#03 is bad with clarifying these things

[fabuloustrash05]

Everyone! Give it up for Raphael! He’s the only turtle who doesn’t have April on his love interest poll! 👏 👏

Leonardo | Donatello | Michelangelo

[kurooh]

★ 03. PARTY MONSTER

☆ denki takes you to your first ‘party’ at UA studios to meet his friends and your co-stars. the whole night’s a blur of new people, save for one who catches your eye from the start.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, everyone is over 21, drinking alcohol, introductions, lowkey a filler chapter but there’s better things coming in the future 💔 | 3.6K words

xoxo, juno. showtime is BACK! (i said this the last time i updated which was like 3 months ago…. 🗿) happy early valentine’s day, comment & rb if you enjoyed 🩷 !

SHOWTIME MLIST.

smooth and sleek, the sporty car glides into the parking slot under denki’s ministrations. easily, almost as if he’s trying to impress you, he shifts gears and hops out of the car to quickly race around to your side. a little smile plays on his lips as he helps you out, taking your hand in his own like it’s an unskippable step in a daily routine.

above you, the sky is swathed in darkness and scattered with hundreds of stars, drowned out by the pollutive city light. denki’s car beeps as he locks it, fixing you with a giddy look. “c’mon, it’ll be alright. they’ve totally been dying to meet you!”

“precisely,” you sigh, walking along beside him. “i just . . i didn’t know i was this popular outside of shiketsu.”

“you didn’t see the views or get any proposals to film?” when he grins, lips tugging up at the corners, nervousness bubbles up in his chest. it’s impossible not to be a little starstruck, walking around so casually with someone who’s definitely out of his league. all he wants is to play it cool, maintain his composure and not get too caught off guard like he is right now—looking into your eyes long enough for you to awkwardly clear your throat. he continues when it’s time to stop at the elevator, and his voice slightly cracks. “no way, babe.”

“yeah, i was being ripped off,” your voice is light as you clarify, momentarily recalling past bitterness while he presses his fingertips into the button. “i just had a shitty agent and little access to any of my accounts.”

oh, shit. denki was messing with you, and now he’s feeling heat quickly bloom in the apples of his cheeks like he’s just done something bad. so, he says what comes to mind first, expression immediately softening as he tries to control his surprise. it’s not that surprising, though, considering how common it is to be taken advantage of in the industry—it’s only ever happened to stars outside of UA, ones he’s met on set and occasionally talked to afterwards. but for something like this to happen to you—he’s disappointed.

“god, that sounds terrible,” unconsciously, his fidgety fingers press the button a few more times. “did you report ‘em? oh my god, please tell me you reported that slimeball.”

with a ding, the elevator comes down and opens shortly after.

you suck in a short breath, a little uncomfortable. “heh, something like that . . anyway, i forgot to ask! should i grab some beer or no?”

“well, i’m glad that’s all behind you now. and nope, there’s no need,” denki steps into the elevator, pressing a dull button. the number five comes to life, illuminated by fluorescent light and power as the doors shut behind you. “you won’t need any beer when you try hanta’s cocktails.”

“they’re that good?”

“you’ll get it when you meet him, but i’ve gotta tell you now. hanta’s amazing at mixing shit up! once, he got a frat guy to pole dance for a few at a strip club he used to work at.”

an uncontrollable laugh bursts out of you. “he what? did the guy end up getting the drinks?”

recalling the memory makes a smile spread across his face, and it grows wider once he hears your hushed giggles. “unfortunately, he did, even though he could barely work the pole.”

there’s a few more laughs before a comfortable silence stretches between the two of you, allowing him a moment of respite as he savors the brief journey up with you. it was hours ago, but he’s still thinking about when he fucked you on set and feels a flutter in his stomach whenever it pops into his mind. there’s something . . you’ve got a certain charisma he hasn’t quite encountered with other actresses, and denki’s sure his friends will feel the same.

he had been the first to become totally enraptured with you, since he’d submitted a faceless ad of yours to r/pornid. since then, it’s been history—finally finding your profile set into motion an imaginative attraction that eventually leaked into everyday, casual conversations with his friends. it had led them to also subscribe to you, each of them dreaming to meet you on or outside of the UA sets. see, you’d first gotten your start on camera with a partner, your face usually obscured by his body or out of the frame altogether. it wasn’t often, but you’d revealed your face a few times, only in subscription locked videos that weren’t ever up for more than a few days. eventually, the videos of you with other men dwindled before stopping completely, save for the rare repost of an old clip. word on the industry corners had been that you stopped accepting acts with partners, instead opting to make your own content.

a few years of mystique and intrigue had obviously built you quite the fanbase, many of them prominent actors and actresses at UA studios. now, as you get off the elevator, your pulse quickens in anticipation; even as you try to reassure yourself, psyche yourself up about how much easier future films will go after a simple introduction, your efforts are almost entirely fruitless.

beside you, denki’s equally nervous, just for different reasons. 

honestly, he’s concerned about his friends, praying to any higher deity that they don’t embarrass him. they’ve all got their different personalities, and some are looser cannons than others . . oh god. casually, to hide the tremble of his hands, he cards his fingers through his blonde hair and catches your eyes.

“my friends can be a lot sometimes,” he admits earnestly, giving you a spiel that’s really meant to calm his own nerves, “but they’re cool, you’ll settle in quickly. i just hope they’re not too embarrassing, heh.”

you nod, swallowing the small lump in your throat when he starts to bang on the door. although it’s a brief wait, each second passes and leaves you feeling more hesitant then the last. the muffled sounds of music and laughter seep out from under the door, reminding you of just how new this experience will be. at shiketsu, you didn’t often go to parties or get togethers, something you’re grateful for since that scandal came to light. finally, the door swings open to reveal a tall figure and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

his hair is dark and a little spiky, hanging over his brows as though he’d decided it was good enough in the middle of combing it. warm and friendly, his eyes twinkle with something mischievous, like he’s used to having a good time and pulling others into it too. despite his relaxed demeanor, it’s clear that he’s interested to meet you, extending his tanned hand comfortably. a grin tugs at the corners of his lips, showing off his straight teeth as he starts to talk, gaze never straying too far. “hanta’s the name. it’s nice to finally meet you.”

the handshake is simple, and your firm grip only makes you all the more attractive. a minute hasn’t even passed since the door opened, and yet denki can tell you’ll fit well with his friends. although you’re nervous, you mask it like it’s nobody’s business as you step into the warm apartment. denki slips off his shoes, so you do the same without being asked.

“god, haven’t you opened a window?” denki’s nose crinkles when he shuts the door behind him, immediately taking in the mingling scents of both liquor and food.

“i can’t believe you’re complaining,” hanta huffs, heading toward the kitchen island, which is completely filled up with various pizza boxes, sushi trays, and liquor bottles. it’s not necessarily messy, just crowded with the evidence of too many people crammed into one space at once. “denks, you’re the first to make the place stink.”

“dude! all i’m saying is some air would be good!” he whines, cheeks becoming a blotchy pink as he shoves his friend. for denki’s sake and ego, you pretend to be enamored with a sealed tray of salmon futamaki. 

��nice spread, huh?” hanta pointedly ignores his friend and offers you a paper plate, tossing open the fridge to pull out a sealed bottle of water. “go ahead ‘n take what you like! there’s soy sauce and condiments on the counter behind you, then the napkins are to your right.”

slowly, you make your plate, filling it up with a few different things to try while you make conversation with everyone. not far from the kitchen, there’s a lot of arguing in the other room. whoever it is obviously doesn’t concern themselves with their volume or their word choice, something that slightly puts you on edge. 

denki tries to pull his friend to the side, but his whispering is loud enough for you to hear clearly. “i thought i told you to deal with him! like, seriously. first of all, we don’t need any more complaints from the—”

“long time no see, huh?”

a very familiar voice catches your attention and tears you away from the peeved whispers behind you. holding an empty plate and a cup of something, shoto’s leaning coolly against the edge of the island as he fixes you with a look of interest and a quirked brow. even though you’re not on the set and instead far from it, that familiar professional confidence rises in your chest. “can’t believe it’s been a whole day.”

subtle as ever, the hint of a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he opens the lid of the sushi tray, using his chopsticks to effortlessly pluck more than a few pieces out. “guess you’re making waves already. settling into UA easily, i hope?”

“definitely, everything’s been smooth sailing since the first day,” after a bite of food, you chuckle. “is that your favorite kind of sushi roll, shoto?”

“sorry, i need to grab something behind you,” he murmurs, fingers lightly brushing against your side as he moves past you to grab a small bottle of hot sauce. “i like sushi, but i’ve had enough. this one’s for my friend, he demanded that i come over here and get him a second plate because he’s so busy.”

in spite of the fact that someone’s audible yelling turns into aggravated shouts of his name, shoto’s expression remains serene. it’s when he begins dousing the sushi in the hot sauce that your eyebrows raise, startled by the sheer amount of spice.

“he can handle it,” shoto supplies, settling the bottle down and waving you toward him. “why don’t you come with me to meet everyone?”

“i’ll mix up some drinks while you’re at it!” hanta calls, grabbing liquor bottles by their necks while denki throws open a cabinet to look for supplies to assist his friend.

not trailing too far behind shoto, you shuffle into the living room, where it’s a little warmer than the kitchen. the air’s thick with the smell of pizza and soy sauce, mixing with the low hum of the tv. everything’s laid back, both figuratively and literally; two people sit in front of the tv, ps4 controllers in hand while another lounges on the couch with his legs sprawled out. there’s something familiar about them, but it’s nothing you can place immediately—you’ve definitely seen their faces before, and it wouldn’t come as too much of a surprise if they’ve seen you too. when he speaks above the mingling voices and video game noises, shoto introduces you with a gentle hand atop your shoulder. “everyone, she’s here, and also the reason the kitchen’s quieter now.”

in an instant, the flashing lights of the game come to a stop as one of its players hits pause. the strong, defined muscles of his back ripple beneath his shirt, drawing your attention until he turns around with a wide grin on his face. those sharp white teeth gleam in the low light, and he’s enthusiastic as ever when he introduces himself. “it’s really great to meet you! kirishima here, i hope you’re enjoying the party so far!”

“tch, whatever. no need to make it weird,” seemingly uninterested, kirishima’s video game opponent looks back at you, curiosity briefly flickering in his eyes as he quietly accepts his plate from shoto. “hey.”

with dark, green hair hanging just over his eyebrows, the person on the couch seems a little more frazzled than the others when he jumps up. he stumbles slightly, tripping over his foot before regaining his balance and extending a scarred hand. “hi, i’m midoriya! nice to meet you!”

so many new, different personalities thrust upon you all at once. it certainly bodes for an interesting night, the kind that would be much smoother with a drink or two; just as you’re offering midoriya a smile and nod with your hand in his own, denki’s right on cue, bumbling down the hallway holding a heavy tray filled with drinks. dewy condensation beads on the sides of the glass, stray droplets of water mingling with the juice from the carefully sliced orange perched on the edge. “alright, people! who’s ready to loosen up a little, huh?”

“don’t you dare spill that,” hanta warns grimly. of course, it doesn’t bother denki in the slightest, his face still lit up by an excited grin. like some kind of featherlight ballerina, he hops from one spot on the carpet to another, handing out drinks as his energy fills the room and people in it. some of them, at least—the ash blond guy who’d been playing video games with kirishima aggressively wipes hot sauce from his chin. 

“i’ve gotta get going soon.”

“c’mon, kacchan,” orange liquid sloshes over the rim of the glass when denki hands it to him, whining either to convince him to stay or to piss him off. “why do you have to go so soooon?”

“shut up,” he snaps immediately, scowling when some of the drink splashes onto his pants. “i have a goddamn schedule, and you already know that.”

“let’s not get too worked up,” midoriya’s lighter voice cuts through the bickering and ultimately makes things worse. “here’s a napkin for the—”

“shut it! i never asked you to get started too!”

you watch as the scene unfolds, nodding a thanks when denki hands you a drink. beside you, shoto tips his head down and whispers into your ear, “they’re always like this.”

“even when they’re working?” it sounds horrific to work with arguing co stars, especially if they’re not acting. “does he act like that on set?”

finally, you learn his name. “bakugo’s always been like that, on and off of it.”

denki claps his hands enthusiastically, ignoring bakugo’s grunt of fuck you doing that for? and successfully draws everyone’s attention. “now that we’re on the road to getting drunk, it’s time to make things interesting.”

“don’t you dare suggest seven minutes in heaven,” hanta pins his friend down with a glare and a disdainful shake of his head. “just don’t.”

“and let’s please forget about never have i ever.” midoriya takes a sip of his drink while bakugo grunts in assent, still dabbing at the orange stain on his pants. 

“alright, fiiiine!” denki relents easily, holding up his hands in mock surrender before wickedly rubbing them together as a lightbulb turns on in his head. the small gold hoops in his ears catch the low, comfortable light, swaying subtly with every exaggerated motion. “i raise truth or dare instead.”

“aren’t we adults?” shoto sips his drink as though he didn’t say anything at all, while the others collectively nod in agreement. 

“i swear, if you make me kiss someone—” bakugo’s ready to jump up and strangle his friend, infuriated by the mere thought of the imaginary scenario. 

“there won’t be any kissing! c’mon, kaminari, tell him!” strong arms pull him back even though he thrashes against kirishima’s chest, nearly clawing out of his grip until hanta steps in to help too. 

childish as ever, denki continues on with his unbothered smile stretching from ear to ear as his eyes glint with obvious mischief. “we’ll give everyone a turn before we move on. there may not be any kissing, kacchan, but it’ll be exciting nonetheless. hanta, it’s time to whip up some more drinks, man!”

☆ ☆

“whoa, don’t reach for that,” the words are laced with concern as he gently pulls the liquor bottle from your grasp and sets it down. quickly, his dutiful hands fetch a cup from the shelf and fill it with cool tap water. “here, drink this instead.”

“i’m f-fine,” it doesn’t even sound like you talking, not when you’re wobbling on your feet and grabbing onto his wrist to steady yourself. careful, as if he’s afraid to let you go for fear of you somehow losing your balance and falling, he helps you lean against the counter. “it’s, um, kinda hot in here.”

“that’s why i’m handing you the water,” kirishima presses, his own cheeks flushed a rosy pink from all the alcohol he’d drank during the game. “take one sip and i’ll stop bothering you about it, okay?”

the game.

right, that’s what led to the decline of your inhibitions. almost everyone in the circle was throwing back as many drinks as you were, some of them getting too wasted to do much more than sit or pass out. a giggle slips out from your mouth before you can realize it or care enough to stop what starts to happen next. lightly, your manicured nails rake over the skin of his wrists, feeling him up and making him laugh as he slowly pulls away.

“do you even know how drunk you are?”

“you’re as drunk as i am,” you whine, eyes drawn to the visible crest of his flexing muscles beneath his t shirt. that initial pull you’d felt a few hours ago when you met him is stronger now, and much clearer than before, something the alcohol likely has an effect on. he’d been magnetic from the start, flashing you a winning smile and comfortably talking with you throughout the time you’d played the game.

he hiccups, eyes widening at the beginning of an entire fit. 

“see? just look at you.”

“hand me that cup of water.” once he gets ahold of the cup, he immediately guzzles it down as if he’s been dehydrated for days. “oh, god.”

a laugh tumbles out of you, the kind that he wouldn’t normally appreciate, but in this drunken, defenseless state, he doesn’t quite mind it. “if we kept drinking, maybe the hiccups would stop. didn’t think of that, huh?”

“i’m not blacking out in their apartment,” kirishima grins, pushing his fingers through his vermilion hair. the spikes fall, softening under his light touch. “plus, i don’t think you’d want to risk a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

more slippery than it’d be if you were sober, the floor seems to give out beneath you—or maybe it’s your legs? either way, time slows as you inevitably plummet toward the tiles, until a pair of strong arms catches you. they hoist you up onto your feet once again. when your eyes refocus to take in your surroundings, an intangible heat permeates the air. you’re close, close enough that you can make out a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and dark flecks of crimson in his irises. startled by the proximity, kirishima’s face steadily flushes a darker color, but the thought of pulling away does not cross his mind.

his gaze flickers to your lips, and the mid-laugh expression on his face starts to melt away. it’s a subtle sign, but his intentions are nothing less than clear—he doesn’t lean in until you give a slight nod, an invitation that he’s more than eager to accept. it’s a gentle brush of skin against skin, one that is infused with the essence of hesitation and innocence. 

but then, the growing heat of the moment takes over and kickstarts the kiss into an unrestrained rush of alcohol and physicality, which deepens between clashes of teeth and heady gasps for breath. it’s too much and all at once, in the best kind of way—your brain shortcircuits as your body surrenders to the sensations of it all, and everything outside of this bubble you’ve created is muffled, irrelevant. the pleasant scent of cedar cologne twists and twirls in the air, filling your nose each time you inhale. polite hands grapple at the small of your back as kirishima pulls you flush against him, reveling in the softness of your body as his mind races to memorize the blurry details. 

here, now? kissing in the kitchen doesn’t seem like the wisest idea or even the soberest. although you want to think about what you’re doing and why, kirishima’s teeth lightly graze your lower lip and turn each thought back into the air they came from.

a loud bang from the living room shatters the moment, ending the kiss as abruptly as it began. slowly, you back away, still tasting the alcohol on his tongue and feeling the remnants of his touch. dazed, you gather your bearings as you wipe away the glossy string of saliva that connects your lips to his. “that was . . interesting.”

“interesting’s one way to put it,” he clears his throat, voice a little rougher than usual. “guess we got carried away, huh?”

you laugh lightly, feeling the alcohol buzzing its way through your veins. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

a sheepish chuckle escapes kirishima as he rubs at the back of his neck, focusing on ignoring the sweltering heat pooling in his stomach. “well, for starters, i may not remember this at all tomorrow.”

“for now, let’s just leave it at this,” you suggest with a cheeky grin, making him laugh. “we’ll pick it up on set or outside of it.”

“sounds like a—”

“oh my god, you two!” hanta’s raised voice cuts through the air as he races into the kitchen with an unlit cigarette between his lips and a face that plainly says he has news to share. “we got todoroki to do a fucking handstand! c’mon, you have to come see!”

[seokminfilm]

angel | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warnings, non-idol au, biker!seokmin, one-night fling (NOT a one-night stand okay just to clarify), bad boy!seokmin (yes it gets a warning), forbidden romance, angst, one suggestive comment (if you miss it it's not even suggestive), morality struggle, kissing, mutual attraction, seokmin calls reader angel, one mention pinning against the wall (also needs a warning), seokmin is described to be hot, kind of plot-heavy??

🪄 summary, why was the only person who could give you respite in your suffocating, perfectionist world a rogue motorcyclist who kissed you last night?

🪄 author's note, long story short an anon of mine was like "hey you should do racer seokmin" and i was like "wowie yes!" and yeah 😭 this is how it came about! this may not be racer seokmin BUT the only good idea i had was with biker seokmin so....🤷 this may be on the longer side because i'm working on making my fics longer this year....i love the little drabbles i do, but i want smthn more than 1k 😛 anyways enjoy, and thank anon for the idea!

🪄 playlist, 01. riez, stromae | 02. la solassitude, stromae | 03. million dollar baby, tommy richman | 04. dancing in the flames, the weeknd | 06. a lonely night, the weekend

🪄 word count, 2.9k (LET'S GO) | for @kstrucknet

"What determines what's right or wrong?" He asked you, face a few hairs away from yours as you stared up at him, mouth parted just slightly. You didn't know the answer to that question, and you could honestly care less: the man who had your heart and soul ever since you bumped into him on the street now had his slender, very pretty fingers under your chin, lips seconds away from touching yours as he questioned you. Your back was pinned against the brick wall of the sweaty bar, Seokmin just inches away from you.

"How would I know the answer to that?" You echoed softly, sighing as you inhaled deeply. You could taste his cologne on your tongue, and you hadn't even kissed him yet. He was everywhere around you, it seemed.

The man smiled, lips curving into the prettiest thing you've ever seen as he chuckled. His voice was like honey, dripping with something that you were sure was amusement as he shook his head. His leather jacket crinkled with his movements, suave and taunting as your fingers felt the roughness of the material. It was just like him─rough.

"You tell me." You say, feeling a sudden rush of boldness coarse through your veins. Your hands find the back of his neck slowly, fingers playing with the dark hair on the nape of his neck. His breath is hot against your cheek, and you find it drawing you in, closing the distance in what would be your first kiss. Ever.

Even now, the thought was warm, playing on repeat in your head. You were a sheltered kid: your parents were very strict with what you wore, what you watched, how well you did in school, who you talked to─all of it.

From a young age, you knew nothing but good, morally correct things, and were taught to never dabble in things like one-time flings, dressing loosely, or cursing. You were what everyone would call a "good girl"─perfect in everything good, unable to do anything bad.

You were okay with it when you were younger, but now, you couldn't stand it. It made your blood boil knowing how truly restrained you were from living your own life.

"We're going out for the day! Stay indoors, and don't leave unless one of your friends knows where you are!" Your mom's voice comes as a bitter wake-up from downstairs, and you sigh, crashing back into your pillow as your neck burns. It's hot against your silk pillow, as if it's remembering what happened to it last night. If you tried hard enough, you could feel his soft lips pecking at your neck right now.

Sighing, you face the wall, tears brimming in your eyes you grip your pillowcase. It shouldn't hurt so much; it was a one-time thing, something you know you shouldn't have experienced. You were so confident, too─so ready to be defiant all of a sudden and go against everything you ever knew. Where was that confidence now?

As you heard your parents' car speed away, the house finally returned to its quiet state. Finally alone, you could take a breath, standing up as you let some light into your room.

It was decorated nicely, as your parents were well off, but it was devoid of anything that was truly you. It was generic, still resembling a child's room in a way; lavender-covered walls and sheets pulled the whole idea of a nursery together, and you frowned at the massive, pristinely white bunny rabbit still sitting perfectly in the corner of your room.

Silently putting your clothes on, you tugged at your hair, willing yourself to stop thinking of the man you had met last night. Everywhere you looked, you saw something that reminded you of him.

The gold necklace you had hanging on your vanity was scarily similar to the one the biker had worn last night, and you remembered intertwining it around your finger to bring him closer to you. The Mary Janes you had in the corner were identical to his loafers; you were surprised a person like him even had loafers.

Even the blush compact peeking from your bag matched his lips─plump and soft as he kissed your neck over and over.

You were daydreaming about this man, and you didn't even know his name. What would your mom say to that, especially with what type of man he is? What would happen to you if they found out you had been with a guy last night? If you had kissed him?

A knock at your door distracts you from all of those thoughts.

Wary of the unexpected knock, you run towards your window, eyes looking out above your driveway. The sky is still cloudy, dark and brooding from last night's downpour. You can even still see puddles in the street, swirling from the wind gusts dancing through the skies, and the clouds move in a slow migration eastward, painting the skies slowly and softly.

Finally getting a good look at the driveway below you, your eyes widen as you see a sleek black motorcycle expertly parked, helmet missing from the handles as another knock comes on your door.

You recognized that bike. You had just ridden it last night.

He was here? The man you had met last night─the man you had (kissed) last night─was here, at your home. He was knocking at the front door, for whatever reason. Your prayers had been answered, but you also knew that were was only going to be trouble from here.

Quickly slipping on your jacket, you tiptoe down the stairs, still terrified of what would happen if your parents returned. What would they think, seeing a motorcycle they didn't own sitting in their driveway? What would they think was happening to you?

Now standing in front of the ever-so-looming doorway, your hand shakily wrapped around the doorknob, telling yourself that you had one more chance to back away. One more chance to run back up to your room and pretend like no one was home. One more chance to choose to lock the mysterious stranger out of your home and consequently─out of your life.

Why would you take that chance?

You open the door.

"Hey, angel," The pet name comes naturally to him, rolling off of his tongue like it was your birth name. Before you can fight it, your body becomes hot, and you struggle to keep your composure, eyes wide as your voice trembles when you speak. "Why are you here?"

The man looks at you with a smirk on his face, holding up a familiar jacket. That jacket was the one you had left on his bike when he dropped you off at the park just ten minutes away from your house so you could walk the rest of the way there alone. You had forgotten your jacket, though, and your parents questioned you because of it.

"I returned your jacket for you." His smile showed teeth, blindingly white and straight as he handed it to you. It was surprisingly dry and smelled like his cologne. Like (his) cologne.

"Thank you, but─you shouldn't be here." You say, eyes darting down to the ground.

You knew more than anyone that you were going against your parents' rules, and if he knew that you were, he would probably never stop teasing you about it. You had a feeling that he already (knew) that he was risking it being here, and that he was just using it as another way to get high on adrenaline.

"I know that." The man's voice is sure, strong as he smirks at you. "I could care less about your parents, though. Fuck your parents." Hearing the curse fall from his lips so easily made your cheeks burn hot, and he catches onto this, taking one step closer to you to see if you'll back away. You don't, and he chuckles, taking your chin in his hand again.

"Suprised, angel? It's just a bad word." The pout in the mysterious biker's voice makes you want to get closer to him, but you will yourself against it, pulling away as you frown.

"You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be on my porch. I don't even know your (name)." And you were right; you hadn't heard his name once last night, and you kept referring to him as 'the man' when you daydreamed about him. Hell, it was even more embarrassing to be dreaming about a guy you met and not even knowing his name.

"Seokmin. Lee Seokmin, at your service." The man you finally now know as (Seokmin) cheesily bows to you, causing you to give a little giggle as he glances up at you from his position. He stands to his full height again, towering over you easily as he smiles with that self-confident grin. "Now you know my name, angel."

Speechless, you look away, unable to go against him. Why does he make you want to abandon everything you know? You know he's bad for you; you know that he goes against everything that your parents had told you to stand for. It was remarkable, how good Seokmin was at making you hate the life you were in, just to want to be with him even more.

"You should come in," You say slowly, glancing at Seokmin's bike resting in your empty driveway. No one was home at the moment, and all the tattletale neighbors weren't at their houses either, meaning you were truly alone for the first time in what seemed to be forever.

Seokmin could come into your house right now, and no one would even know he was here if he left on time. The feeling that coursed through your veins was dangerous─it was hot, searing like bubbling oil as Seokmin smirked down at you. He was thinking the same thing you were: you could get into big trouble for this, but you were starting not to care if you got in trouble or not.

"Don't mind if I do." Seokmin steps into the lavish foyer quietly, slipping off his shoes and putting them beside your house shoes. The sight was domestic, and it made your cheeks heat up with how quickly you had to bash the idea.

"So," You pause, staring around at your empty house. You trusted Seokmin not to break anything─he was careful with things when he wanted to be, whether it was a glass pot, or your chin in his hand. You preferred to only think about the former. "What do you want to see first?"

Seokmin hums, as if he's thinking of his answers, but both you and him know he was just bluffing. He knew what he wanted to see.

"I wanna see your room, angel." Seokmin smiles at you, and you can't help but giggle, turning your nose to him exaggeratedly as you put on a haughty voice. "Of course you do─you uncouth rascal. What? You haven't seen a girl's room before?" You add sarcastically, and Seokmin shakes his head, grinning at you as his eyes crinkle up.

"I've seen plenty," Seokmin adds lowly, and you fall silent, neck heating up as your brain automatically seeks to read between the lines.

"Oh my god," You finally sigh out, and Seokmin giggles, letting you take his hand as you lead him upstairs to your room. Your hand burns in his grasp, and it shocks you at how much you don't want to pull away. The lingering thought that your parents could be back at any time burns in your mind, and you swallow, trying to push it away.

Once you open the door to your room, Seokmin's mouth is already opening, ready to say something to tease you. "Love the bunny." His tone is saccharine, and you blush, throwing a stray shoe at it as an act of defiance.

"Oh, shut up." Seokmin chuckles behind you, admiring the painted walls and clean carpet as he sighs. "Cleaner than my room would ever be."

Giggling, you sigh, approaching Seokmin again as that fleeting wave of confidence returns to you. Before you know it, your hands slide over Seokmin's shoulders and down his chest, slowly removing the familiar leather jacket from his body. His arms bulge from underneath his white tank top, and you swear you can see the dip of his abs from your vantage point. Seokmin is stunned, throat bobbing as you stare up at him with those boba eyes he can't resist.

"Fuck. Who knew the good girl could throw away her reputation just like that?" Seokmin's voice is teasing, warm and dangerous like lava as he smirks at your newfound boldness.

Shrugging, your lips puff up, pulling yourself closer to Seokmin as you take his chin in your hand, pulling it down to you.

"No one except you." You whisper, voice hot as Seokmin's lips capture yours in a searing hot kiss. It was like last night's kiss─warm, long, and expectant. It was as if he was waiting for something, waiting for you to confirm your want to him.

"You should take me on that bike again," You mumble, the sentence cut off by Seokmin's slow and sweet kisses. "Should I?" He questions innocently, and you nod, pulling away as Seokmin's playful eyes and matching smirk meet your gaze.

"You should. I want to feel the wind in my hair again." You say, and Seokmin smiles, sighing as he holds you to his chest. Even though you two only met just last night, no one would know if you didn't tell them─you looked like two young adults in love, soaking each other up like a sponge does water. You felt like your head belonged on his chest, and your body only felt right when he was hugging you.

"Do you want to feel the wind in your hair? Is that all you want to feel, angel?" Seokmin's question seems simple but has so many layers to it, but you fall silent, heart clenching at his words. What you said was partially a lie: you did want to feel the wind in your hair, but you just wanted to feel anything at that point. Anything would be better than feeling trapped in your life of perfection. You could breathe when you were with Seokmin. On his motorcycle, with your arms around his waist, you felt like you could let go and be who you truly were.

You could scream like a madman from the back of the bike and Seokmin wouldn't judge or laugh at you. He would laugh with you, probably mimicking your scream in a terrible impression of you. Even though your life was at risk in so many ways, you felt like you could trust yourself in Seokmin's hands. He would take care of you. He would love you. He would make you his priority. Not focused on perfection, or how you carried yourself, but just how you were─uncensored and finally free.

"Maybe." You say softly, refusing to have Seokmin see you cry. Blinking the tears away as fast as you can, you study Seokmin's sharp nose and thick eyebrows; you memorized every part of his face from your last meeting, everything down to the little mole on his cheek. Seokmin did the same to you, taking in your wide eyes and perfectly done hair. He adored you, even if he had just met you yesterday night.

Seokmin rarely got attached to people: he had learned to not get attached the hard way too many times, and now, it was just natural for him to lock everyone out. That's all he could do to protect himself from the real world. When you came into the picture, Seokmin did the same, only sticking around to watch over you while you were alone in the shady bar. When you had introduced yourself to him, Seokmin didn't think he'd get so attached to you like he did.

You were so innocent, so untouched by his side of the world─that it only drew him to you even more. So much was expected of you, and you seemed to expect a lot from him too─something that Seokmin had never experienced before. He was something more than just a misunderstood biker to you. You cared about what he did and who he talked to. You cared─you cared so much.

"Are you still in there?" You ask Seokmin softly, smiling as he nods slightly. He was so drawn into his thoughts that it was just as if he was on his motorcycle again, nothing but the night sky to talk to. He could be as loud or as quiet as he wanted to be with you. He loved that.

"Kiss me again." You whisper, pleading softly as your hands go right back to the place they did when you first kissed him. They tousle with the dark hair on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as you're now just inches away from his sharp nose. Your eyes lock with his dark ones, and you glance down at his lips, soft and waiting. Waiting for you.

Finally, you close the distance, and you can feel it all again. The sprinkling of the rain on your cheeks. The passing whoosh of cars in the street behind you. The coolness of the brick wall supporting your back. The distant chatter of teenagers in the distance.

And─your personal favorite part─the feeling of Lee Seokmin's sweet lips on yours, warm with life, freedom, and desire.

[irisintheafterglow]

assassin!sakusa au: the dagger games, part 01 of 03. (original drabble here!)

"did you talk to him?"

"of course not." kuroo gives you a pointed look and waits for you to reveal your lie. you wait and stare at each other, the only light in the room the moonlight streaming through the window. "well?"

"fine."

"i knew it," he sneers and you chuck a pillow at him, which he punches away easily and positions at the foot of your bed. you can tell he's trying his hardest not to panic, focusing his attention on the dark city outside. "even after all these years, you still can't muster up a good lie."

"yeah, yeah. i get it," you interject before he can continue his rant on how earnestly truthful you are. "i'm an idiot."

"yes, you are. you get comfortable and suddenly you're breaking every rule i told you when you first joined the crows."

"you act as if i'm having a threesome with the twins from the foxden." you chuckle when a visible shudder travels through kuroo's body at the sheer thought of you even interacting with one of the foxes.

"i wouldn't put it past you, if you're suddenly all buddy-buddy with a weasel."

"can we talk about what was in the vial from said weasel now? please?"

"that's why i'm here," he replies cryptically and you roll your eyes. if there was one thing the cats were known for, it was melodrama.

"i know that's why you're here; i called you here in the first place." he scowls, like you'd interrupted his monologue.

"and i'm sorry to disappoint, but we don't know." kuroo crosses his arms and his eyebrows pinch together in unease. "i'm serious," he clarifies when you give him a dumbfounded look.

"what do you mean, you don't know? you're the best chemist in the city!" he tosses you the tiny glass vial and you catch it in one hand, inspecting the shimmering emerald powder inside. it dances around the space like fine sand, submerged in some kind of dense liquid that bubbles near the corked top.

"when we tried to open it, it was like the energy in it disappeared. i barely got the cork off before kenma told me it'd turned pitch black. usually, sudden color changes like that are bad news."

"so what i'm hearing is: you're too scared to open it," you state and your best friend's frown deepens. "c'mon, i've never known you to fear anything."

"i fear tomorrow," he says frankly. "first dagger games of the decade and every crew is headed by young guys, us included. and now there's this mystery substance that a weasel gave you. everyone's active, and it's dangerous."

"why's that a bad thing?"

"young leaders are hotheads--"

"you included," you joke and he scoffs, but he doesn't argue. "sorry, go on."

"and, hotheads get their crews hurt. they tell 'em to do stupid things, like bombard territory or steal marks."

"castles have been doing that ever since oikawa joined as fresh meat."

"that's exactly my point," kuroo emphasizes. "we need to be ready for anyone to play dirty." your mind jumps back to a few days earlier, when oikawa and two of his guys stole a bounty from you while you were training kageyama and yamaguchi. if it hadn't been for that lost bounty, you probably wouldn't need to play in the dagger games in the first place. at least the cats and the crows had a mutual alliance, and that alliance extended to the owls so long as their ice-tipped leader didn't get trigger-happy.

"are you and the cats gonna turn on the crows?"

"over my dead body," he vows darkly. if there was one thing kuroo valued more than foolproof defense, it was loyalty. "will yours?"

"you know daichi. he's a righteous one."

"right. well, let's just hope everyone else has a similar change of heart overnight."

part 02.

[theblueskyphoenix]

I head you just got into 03 XD what’s your opinion on everyone? /gen question

XD Well since you asked dear Anon, though I'll try to keep this brief since I can go for hours.

So general thoughts on the turtles:

Leo is best boy and my favorite turtle of this iteration.

This Leo was the first Leo I ever got to know. Cause one thing to clarify: I hd seen part of 03 before I just didn't get fully into it till recently thanks to Stormy. (I had basically only seen season 1.)

Anyways, back to Leo, I love this dork. He's chivalrous, kind and family means everything to him. He's a good boy and is doing his best. Even if he's a bit too hard on himself. Honestly I relate to him a lot, all the more reason he's best boy for me. Also, I love the fact that while he is a serious young man, he also knows how to have fun. Adds a lot to why I love him so much.

Then we have Mikey!

XD He is such a goof ball and I love him for it. I can not tell you how many times this little ball of sunshine has made me laugh with his antics. I also appreciate the fact that while he is a goof, he can take things seriously and overall, he never has any ill intent. He always means the best.

Also his relationship with Klunk gives me life.

Raphael from 2003 is probably my top Raphael.

I ADORE the arcs he gets in 2003. Plus, I love how they give him so many layers to his character. He's not just the angry one, he also has a gentle heart at his core. And he realizes he does have a temper and is trying to better himself. And I appreciate how he serves as a kind of a balance for Leo. The two kind of keep each other in check. (Especially during Season 4 when Leo was going through it. Raph really was the MVP in noticing Leo was not okay.)

So... yes I adore this tough turtle with a heart of gold.

Then finally we have Donnie! The war criminal- I mean precious sweet baby child who totally did not commit grand theft auto multiple times.

Okay all joking aside I adore this guy. I do admittedly have a soft spot for nerds and Donnie certainly fits the bill. Plus he's a sweet heart and a gentleman. Which is all the more reason I feel so bad he gets to see all the horrors. (and endure horrors. Season 4 was rough for this guy.) Also, love the fact he just wants to help anyone in need. He's got the same chivalry as Leo and it makes me happy to see it.

Then as a bonus because I will take any opportunity to squeal about this character because I feel he is under appreciated and is my favorite non turtle character:

Zayton Honeycutt AKA The Fugitoid! (I often call him Fugi lol)

Oh boy I could go for hours about why I like this silly robot man. As stated with Donnie I have a huge soft spot for nerds and Fugitoid is no exception. He's the embodiment of a dorky scientist and it's adorable. Plus, I appreciate how considerate he is of those around him. Like when he met the turtles he just immediately wanted to help them instead of just leaving them high and dry with the federation. He really is a good bot who wants the best for everyone, even if it means sacrificing himself to keep those he cares about safe.

And there's my overall thoughts. <3 Loving 2003 and looking forward to finishing my marathoning soon. Still got a season and half left to go. Looking forward to finishing and making more fun fan art for it. Especially for my sister's fanfict she's working on. (Fish Out of Water. Please give her some love when it comes out. It's gonna be good I promise.)

[yzafre]

thoughts on tmnt 2003

I finally finished watching 2003 for the first time! I've been compiling thoughts as I go along, so here they all are, for the "I like hearing what new people think of my favorite things" crowd (and also just to give myself a place to put them).

Spoiler alert: it's mostly positive, and forgiving of the less-than-positive. This gets long, so I put it below a read more:

Okay, so I saw everyone talking about how different Rise was from 2012, and how it jarred people, and some people couldn’t stomach it, but I never saw anyone mentioning 2003’s place in this discussion?  Because I didn’t realize just how much 2012 pulled from 2003, and I feel like the expectations that set about what it means to do a new iteration of the franchise definitely had a place in how people received something different

On that note, I kind of want to do a “who wore it better” post about all the arcs 2012 adapted... (although 2003 probably also pulled its ideas from somewhere else – I've heard the comics, maybe?  I barely know anything about those, so have no idea how closely they’re connected.).

The City at War arc (good series of episodes, btw) really clarified a point of difference for me in how I understand 2003 and 2012 Raphael.  And by that I mean I think 12!Raph would agree with 03!Leo?  Not on the honor/it’s our fault point, but on the “the gangs are out there hurting people, and we should do something about it”. I’d need to re-watch some episodes to check my work here (I think the episode where they meet Murakami sticks out most in my head?) but 12!Raph seemed to have – at least verbally – an investment in the idea of stopping bad guys simply because they were hurting people.

Okay so obviously Same As It Never Was is agonizing, BUT.  Leo in Usagi’s world was SOOOOO funny to me.  omg.  Everyone just being all “ninja deceit”!  “Dishonorable ninja”!!  With Leo’s whole... deal.  Like from the beginning of the show I was like “isn’t bushido a samurai thing?” when Leo brought it up, so to see it being highlighted here is.  Mwah.  Even Usagi being “bluh bluh you’re turning me into a ninja with all this sneaking around >:(".  SO funny.  I was dying.

I’ve talked several times on how 2012 invested in inter-connected, long-form plots rather than being purely episodic, so it’s interesting to see 2003 move that way as the seasons go on!  I don’t think it ever quite reaches the level of ‘12, but you can definitely see how the writers were inspired by the plot work going on here, and went “okay, can we do that but more?”  The differences between how the two shows do it is interesting, too, but that would be a whole other conversation.

Similarly, I can see how part of Rise’s inspirations might’ve been some of the weirder world-building stuff going on in ‘03.  Everything about the underground city/ the Y’Lyntians, the idea of the Utrom/Kraang being here since long ago, all the more mystic stuff that ‘12 only sometimes dabbled in.  ((I also think part of the way Rise was written was to be in dialogue with the themes of ‘03 and ‘12, but that’s also a different conversation.))

I was aware of Grudge Match before watching the show, but given what I knew about it I honestly expected Mikey to be much more obnoxious about it?  Like yes he wouldn’t shut up about it in the multi-part immediately after the Nexus arc, but after that it seemed like he only mentioned it, what, once every couple episodes? Grudge Match implies he was louder about it off screen – which would be in character – but given how good the show usually is at “show don’t tell” for setting up characterization it stood out to me.

Okay this is petty but.  I am getting very tired of the constant movie quotes.  Stop that.

Okay so on the topic of “show don’t tell” characterization – Leo's ptsd arc was good.  Like this was a thing I knew about before starting the show but everyone was right it was goooood. Like obviously within the limitations of a kids show, but a wonderful amount of nuance for that audience. It tracks so well start to finish, even from season 1 where Leo was shown to have this.  Really strong but devastatingly rigid sense of identity?  Like what it means to be a warrior, and who he has to be because of that.  Like the thing with his identity being tied to the swords, and then the reason why he was tempted by Shredder’s initial (lying) offer. It all tracks to like.  Okay when he fails.  When he can’t live up to it.  Of course it shattered his mental state and threatened his sense of identity.  Of course it did.  And then just several arcs of different plots but with this other character story woven through them.  Just in how he was approaching it.  This is the shit I was wanting from ‘12 the whole time.

And Usagiiii.  Usagi.  I love him so much, and this was such great use of him. Building up a solid, believable foundation for a very enjoyable relationship between him and Leo, then bringing it back at this critical juncture in Leo’s character.  FUCK their conversations in Samura Tourist were so good.  Amazing.  Fantastic.

Actually just all the work that’s done with the turtle’s allies is great.  The homeless/junkyard people.  The super-heroes.  Leatherhead.  Usagi.  The Daimyo.  Just... all of it?  I love it?  It makes the world feel more alive and the turtles grounded in it as like.  Real people.  Who make connections and upkeep them and.  Yeah I love it.

I reached Tale of Master Yoshi and noooooo it’s.  It’s the 2012.  It’s the 2012 backstory.  The inspiration for 2012’s whole thing… its right here… ((Although is it just me or,,, does Yoshi (our hero) look a lot more western compared to Mashimi (our villain)?  There’s something about that.... hm. Hmmmmm.))

Hello season 5! A!Ni!Me! Bullshit!!!  Very accelerated anime bullshit.  Obliviously this is a huge inspiration for Rise, though I appreciate that that show took more time for the powers to build up.  Also the ninja tribunal are assholes and very questionable teachers.  Would it kill you to actually explain anything ever.

Huhhh okay so I am picking up a LOT of Rise vibes not just from the mystic powers/glowy lines, but from Splinter’s deal with the ninja tribunal, and how they wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice the boys, and how the brothers need to stick together.  VERY reminiscent of Rise!Splinter’s deal with the Hamato.

Noooo not Oroku Saki getting possessed by a demon.  Hello Rise backstory.  I see.  It really all comes back to 2003 doesn’t it?  Rise was definitely made by people who looked at S5 and went “okay, can we do that but more?”

Have I talked about how much I love that from the beginning the show was just like “oh yeah also actual superheroes exist in this world, it’s just an accepted thing”?  Because I do.  Love it a lot.  Having most of them be really old/kinda retired/people are forgetting about them was a good idea though because otherwise.  Their spotty presence at cataclysmic events would be much more noticeable.

Dragon fight is cool.  That is all.

The fact that at this point Stockman is just straight up like “Let me die.  Please let me die” is.  Well it sure is something!

I’d heard the last two seasons weren’t as good and… yeah.  Like it’s not bad, it’s just… less good.  I miss the world and characters of the previous season.  Though hey did the Rise gear designs steal some inspo from this season?

HOWEVER.  The episode introducing the dark turtles.  Where Leo’s like “if you’re really my clone, you should value honor and the code of bushido!” and his counterpart just... stares solemnly for an extended time before being like “lmao yeah nope” and sucker punching him was hilarious, and got a sharp laugh out of me.  Favorite moment in this season.  I actually liked this episode overall, too.

So.  Hm.  Mikey has always been very un-serious – a jokester, (verbally) a bit of a coward at times, easily distracted.  But as this season goes on it really feels like they’re amping it up/exaggerating those traits, to the point of stripping away anything else at times. Similarly, his brother’s willingness to indulgence/reactions to his silliness seems to fluctuate wildly, but on a downward trend - they always razzed him, but in this season... well they paired his increased goof-offs with increased put downs/jokes about it. This, while a bit annoying to me as a characterization choice, does track on a more meta-textual level.  By this point it’s 2006-2007.  2007 is the year Big Bang Theory aired, which I find to be, uh…. Tonally representative of the cultural attitude in the US between 2008 annnnd… 2013-ish?  There was this extra-concentrated feeling of, like… snideness and sarcasm that I remember around that time period.  It’s also very prominent in TMNT 2012 – especially in Season 1 (when binging that show I was hit by high school memories so viscerally that I said, out loud, “oh, GOD, we really were all Like That, weren’t we?” only a few episodes in).  Similarly to my post about the increasing frequency of the “Gibbs slap”, I find it interesting to see the way the changing attitudes are reflected in the same show as time passes.

LET STOCKMAN REST jeZUS

Overall, I see three kinds of episodes in season 6: mediocre, good, and what I call “good but out of order”.  What I mean by that last bit, is like… okay, the Graduation episode was good in theory, but felt very strange coming after Season 4/5, you get me?  Things where the concept is solid, but seems to be placed in the wrong position in their arcs, which I think is a knock-off effect from the lightened tone of the season.

Oh.  I just got to the second episode of S7 and.  I don’t…. hm.  So, I could deal with the simplified designs in Fast Forward, because they got some cool new gear stuff added in as well, but this is.  Uh.  Worse. But even beyond that – the dynamics also feel sort of off.  If Casey has been going to this gym for a while, why is April only now doing something about it….?  I don’t feel like she would have let this go just because the guys weren’t there. Also I'm putting it down here now that I think the whole digital world thing is kinda dumb

I do think 2012 looked at a lot of the ideas for S7 and went “interesting idea, we can do it way better”, which I commend them for.  Admittedly, these can also be stock tropes: April getting possessed also reminds me of Ghost Busters/Zuul, and mind control is a pretty standard trope, but… well, you know.  2012 took so much else from 2003, you can’t help but wonder if they pulled inspiration here, too.

Oh they are wayyyy over-using the Shredder/Foot Clan sting/motif this season and it is getting,,, annoying,,,

I kept waiting to see what they were doing with it, but they did not handle Donnie’s guilt arc with anywhere near the finesse they did Leo’s.  It wasn’t… horrible, I guess.  It’s just notably lacking in comparison. They didn't even have Leo really sit down with him to talk about his own experience like???

I did appreciate them bringing back all those side characters in the finale.  I’ve already mentioned I love the plethora of allies and friends they gave the turtles in this iteration, so obviously that was going to please me, though they could have gotten a little bit better showing in the final fight.

Lmao the guy I thought was gonna be rat king!!!!  He’s there lurking and watching in the distance???

Good show!  But yeah I’d agree with people who say that the heart of the show is really in the first 5 seasons.  After that the characters and stories feel a bit��� flattened? The more I pushed through the last two seasons, the more I was missing the first 5, which I really, really enjoyed. Ranking on my personal tastes of the series I’ve watched so far, meeting each show where it's at, it goes Rise > 2003 > 2012.  Rise and 2003 are really close, with Rise just beating it on account of “it was my first show” and also “I REALLY like anime bullshit”, although there’s potential for that to shift or fluctuate as it marinates in my brain. That being said, 2012 is the one that makes the creative part of my brain go crunch-crunch, so take that as you will. Continuing to go backwards puts me at the 1987 series, so I suppose that’s next.  I have plans to watch the new TotTMNT with family during the holiday season, so unfortunately I’m up for an (agonizing) wait on that one.

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

I really think father and hohenheim should have been the same character? I mean, father is such a bland villain. Maybe I just haven't looked enough but I haven't seen even the most hardcore bh fans talk about him? It's all just about how ed punched god or whatever. No one's actually interested in the guy himself. I can think of several ways them being the same person would make it a lot more interesting, at least to me. I mean, first of all ed and al having to fight their own shitty father is some delicious angst. Second I really like the mad scientist type character and that's what hoho would be in that scenario. Third I think it would be fun to analyse the "sins" he took out of himself if he was a human to begin with. Ohh and come to think of it, it would go really well with Ed's whole "alchemists are the closest things to God yadda yadda" speech in the beginning wouldn't it? Honestly I can't think of any reason why they had to be different people at all...Ah, except how can I forget. Arakawa's writing this. Of course they have to be two different people. One who actually did all the wrong things and the loving father and husband who's going around trying to make everything right(nevermind that he left Trisha to care for their 4-5 yos all alone with no support. Nuh uh he's perfect) If she held the fact that the two can in fact be the same person it might just explode her world. I'm rolling my eyes.

Father and Hohenheim as the same character? Who is a mad scientist? Who as a result reimburses Ed's pompous "Alchemists are the closest things to god"? Blends aspects of being an unforgivable monster with having loved his family? I've got your guy!

🎉Hohenheim of Light!🎉

Oh sure, he's not the final big bad that the Elric bros have to fight, and sure he's more of a retired villain who's mildly penitent for his centuries of bloodshed, rather than continuing to enact widespread destruction. But we do get to see the results of all his transgressions against humanity and his own first son too! So, 🎉 ta-da! 🎉

To actually address your ask:

Besides what 03 had already done, for awhile I actually thought Father WAS Hohenheim in Brotherhood.

To clarify: I avoided the online fandom from 2009 onward in order to prevent getting spoiled for the (at the time) new fma adaptation. I kept putting off watching it for well over a decade (lol), and for no other reason then a combo of 1) not being in the mood for more fma, and 2) when I was, I would immediately run right back to fma 03 without fail, and then be so thoroughly satisfied with revisiting a long time fave that I just. Would put off watching Broho for another time.

Still, being online in any capacity meant that every once in awhile I was unavoidably being exposed to the odd screenshot, text post, and fanart. No big deal, nothing really spoiled anything heavily enough for me to know the full story, and I could easily scroll away before making sense out of anything.

But I did one day stumble into a screenshot of Father glowering in his underground throne. And here I thought "Oh shit! Hohenheim is actually in full villain mode this time around?! We're going to actually explore the mass annihilation he commits for philosopher stones and how his sons will have to contend with their own father. This will surely dig even deeper into Ed and Al's heel turn against the military, and what alchemy means as a method of power and control. Man, this is gonna fuck!"

lol

lmao even

So to my now endless disappointment I finally watched Brotherhood this last spring. And although I surprisingly liked* this affable, bumbling, rather tragic version of Hohenheim (which stumps me, given my initial assumption for Brotherhood AND being a long time Hohenheim of Light enjoyer) (I still like Hoho of Light more tho), Father was such a fucking let down on every front.

*Don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming Von Hohenheim didn't do wrong against Trisha and his kids. As much as he had to build the anti-circle around Amestris, it doesn't erase the fact that Trisha had to shoulder the full burden of raising their kids, and child Ed's sense of abandonment and outrage against him is highly warranted.

Even keeping Father as a homunculus that duplicates Hohenheim's appearance, he still could have been an interesting character and villain. But every step of the way he was just the obvious big bad mostly relegated to the background, stored away except for a few key encounters and flashbacks. He was paper thin, an easy excuse for why the core ills of Amestris are all his exclusive fault, and conveniently the canon has an in-baked reason for why he has the personality and stage presence of cardboard. Woo. hoo.

God the lore and function of homunculi blows in mangahood. At the very least make me actually feel like they are parts of this once former-cyclops in a bottle! And still make Father an actually compelling character! In fact the other homunculi could have potentially been an effective vehicle for that, but noooooo-

Honestly, I agree. It would have been so much more affecting for Hohenheim and Father to be one, singular character. Of course much of his backstory would have to change, but that's not a loss in my hater's opinion. The implications for the Elrics, for their paradigms to be entirely torn asunder and have to be rebuilt in order to survive and make sense out of their position in Amestris, it would have been juicy.

You're right, I have seen next to no deeper interest or investment into Father as a character and as a narrative device from hardcore fans either. I'm sure it does exist, given Brotherhood's immense popularity, but damn if we can be forgiven for getting the impression that most fans just don't give a rat's unseasoned ass. I see more posts and fanart for Von Hohenheim than I do Father lol

Mangahood simply can't have (or actually address) any truly murky topics, or depict messy and complex characterization, if it doesn't ultimately shine the brightest, most admirable, most absolving light on our protags as possible. So why would Von Hohenheim have anything to do with Father besides having been his victim?

We remain starved by the emaciated, sorry excuse for 'pathos' that is Father's whole deal. What a shame.

[memesmadefullmetal]

Fuck, marry, kill:

Mangahood hohenheim, 03 hohenheim, Father

❤️‍🔥 Fuck - Mangahood Hohenheim (just to clarify this does NOT make us Hohenhoes. He’s simply the best of a bad bunch…)

💍 Marry - 03 Hohenheim (Your mods’ reasoning differed here, Mod Hawkeye chose this because she doesn’t have to fuck him, and she wouldn’t touch 03 Hohenheim with a bargepole given the whole Dante and melting skin thing 😖 Mod Mustang chose 03 Hohenheim for the eternal life thing: might as well get something out of it 🤷🏻‍♂️)

🔪 Kill - Father (man literally has no personality and if you sleep with someone who thinks they’re god, it’s gonna be the lamest lay of your life 🙄)

- Mod Mustang & Mod Hawkeye 🔥🦅

[taffycandyqt]

Alright I shall take my pass to resubmit my rq now lol so here we go attempt two on the platonic hcs for how the 03 turtles would be with a reader who’s a former purple dragon, reader still behaves and thinks like a member of the dragons and it’s very obvious they only started helping the turtles+left the dragons cause they gained the biggest crush on Casey

Also again I’m so sorry for not clarifying which Brooklyn boy I meant the first time I forgot there’s two 😭 (also please don’t feel too bad about the mix up tbh I’d probably do the same!!)

LOL you are so good my dude and honestly I am happy to do this again so HERE WE GO! *cracks knuckles* round two!

Ex Purple Dragon with a thing for Casey

Masterlist

Request Rules

Pt 2.

You were a member of the Purple Dragons but ended up leaving after finally meeting the dragons myth of the hockey masked vigilante.

Warnings: none

Platonic turtles, Casey x reader implications

As a member of the purple dragons, you have always heard stories of the masked vigilante that hunted down members of your gang.

Boy was that guy popular.

at first you didn't really care.

After a while though he just began to annoy you.

He stopped important business from happening and even caused your teammates to come back bruised and bloodied.

Though to be honest most of them probably deserved it.

You respect the hustle of the guy, but you relied on your teammates to come back with the goods so you could finish things on the business side with Hun.

And he was making that very hard. The only reason you haven't been 'put to sleep' yet is because your good at talking yourself out of things.

Even though this was the case you never cared for "right" or "good", your ideals were a Purple Dragons through and through.

But then those turtle guys came into the picture.

They really tore down everything your division tries to maintain.

Usually you were good at keeping things going, even with setbacks, but these guys were making it impossible.

And just when you thought you were a gonner, they burst in and distracted Him long enough for you to escape.

Before you could though a masked figure caught you.

One that you'd only seen in pictures.

Hockey mask, baseball bat and all.

Suddenly you didn't feel like leaving.

You quickly started to fight along side them, immediately making you a target of the dragons.

After the fight was over and you escaped with the turtles, you had a pair of swords pointed at your neck.

As a reaction you started fighting but we're quickly overpowered as it was 5 to 1.

it took a while but you were finally able to communicate that you weren't trying to hurt them, but join them.

They were skeptical, but, Leo decided to give you a chance.

Casey, as you soon learned his name to be, was the most skeptical.

It didn't help that your opinions nor mannerisms changed all that much.

You didn't care about the law and constantly got in trouble and yet you claimed to be changed?

yeah he wasn't buying it.

it took him hearing about how Hun burned your cheap motel room to the ground before he even humored the idea of giving you a chance.

It took a lot of time and work but eventually, you two actually became good friends.

Casey would invite you to hockey games with him or on nights out.

you also accompany Casey on a couple of his jobs.

He enjoys having you around while he fixes electrical and you get him back on track when he's distracted.

Your not so great at dealing with clients though so he just advises you to stay quiet.

Dispute this though, Casey still admires and respects you a lot.

Even if he does have to bust you out of trouble a lot.

You ended up living with April after your run in with Hun cost you your cheap little motel room.

She tries to have girls nights with you and sometimes it works and sometimes if doesn't.

either way it's through those that she comes to understand the depths of your affections for Casey.

You'll try and play it off as just thinking he's cool but she can tell by the way that you talk, that you only left due to your FAT crush on him.

everyone is led to understand this in their own way.

Leo liked sparring with you. Your fighting was a far cry from ninjitsu.

But you were efficient and effective, and it gave him some better practice with street fighters.

He came to understand your feelings for Casey after he totally pummeled you after you got distracted by him.

Raph, surprisingly, enjoys sitting with you.

He uses you as a body double in a way while he is trying to finish a kitting project.

Sitting and doing nothing however makes you jittery so normally you'll just pace inform of him and talk about whatever's on your mind.

The only time your quiet is when Casey comes around, thats Raph got the hint.

Mikey likes to spend his time watching movies or playing videogames with you.

If neither of those things are involved then there has to be food.

Mikey knew about your feelings for Casey way before anyone trusted you.

It was pretty obvious to him but🤷‍♀️

He uses this to catch you off guard when your winning so he can beat you.

Lastly Donnie likes going scavenging with you. You don't mind getting dirty or staying out late and you were good at picking out the types of things he's looking for.

On top of that, you didn't have any particular reservations about being caught or possibly arrested.

He got suspicious of your feels though when you mentioned not wanting to smell like trash cuz your hanging out with Casey later.

Like, since when did that matter? You came to the lair smelling like dog water all the time?

Lastly Splinter is just glad you get along with everyone. (All he asks is that you don't do any substances at or around the lair, he doesn't need his sons exposed to that)

He knows you've been through a lot and will serve you tea when he can sense you feeling particularly distressed.

He was the only person that you directly told your feelings to.

He advised you to not lose yourself in your feelings.

Leaving the dragons was a HUGE change for you, even bigger was joining their biggest enemy.

On top of that, the others had been trying to get you to go clean since.

Splinter doesn't approve of your activities. But he knows they are also a part of who you are and he doesn't want to become something your not for someone else.

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

I think I'm gonna do a part two cuz this got really long really fast and I didn't really get into the romance part of it soooooo. Stay tuned for whenever(if) I do that🤷‍♀️

[kranagok0]

I remember reading a post or some comment from someone about what season 3 would have been like if Anders hadn't been taken to the fairy island but Johana had.

First we must clarify that Johana would end up on the same island as Anders, meeting Victoria and cooperating together to survive.Anders would now be taking care of Hilda and learning to be a responsible father, and with this understand how hard Johana's life was having to take care of an 'adventurous' girl (I imply that Anders lives the life of an adventurer and therefore that goes where it wants without worries. Well, now Anders will know what it's like to have to take care of another adventurer and try to understand why his daughter does such dangerous things)

*Anders and his daughter would be looking for Johana all over the place. Obviously they wouldn't find her, nor would there be any trace of where she could have gone. Hilda fears the worst, and Anders tries to calm her down by telling her that he may have gotten ahead of Trollberg and that everything is fine. After that, Anders takes Hilda back to Trollberg to wait for her mother.

*After spending the night waiting (and sleeping) on the couch, Anders realizes that Johana is not coming back. Hilda obviously starts to worry, even more than when Twig ran away.We will see the topic of how Hilda and Anders feel about Johana's disappearance in another post that I will do over the course of this weekend, so pay attention (it is both a warning and a threat because I don't know if it suits me or not)

*For a whole week Anders has had to do the things that Johana did in her daily life:*Anders gets up early, earlier than he is used to, just so he can cook something for his daughter to eat (even if it's just a little, worrying about his mother took away most of his appetite). On the first day Anders tried to cook something for his daughter in record time (it was 5 minutes before Hilda's classes were to start and both of them hadn't even fully woken up). In the end everything burned and Anders had to quickly go to a store to buy his daughter lunch. That's when Anders realized that Hilda didn't eat meat (he literally saw her open the sandwich and take out the ham while looking somewhat disgusted).

*Anders was learning to drive the new family car (that car that wouldn't start and seems to be closer to being junk than being a vehicle). They were late consecutively that week, it was a miracle if they arrived 30 minutes after the bell rang.Cleaning clothes should be easy as long as you had a washing machine, that's what Anders thought when he put as many clothes as he could into the washing machine and started it. For obvious reasons, the washing machine overheated because it had exceeded the maximum load and exploded (the family washing machine was also a bit old). Anders had to wash everything by hand (at least what was not destroyed after the explosion) (Hilda got very angry that day with her father for accidentally destroying the sweater that Johana had knitted for Hilda, Anders felt very bad that's why).

*Every day after school, Hilda left school to look for her mother everywhere. The first time Anders came for her after school was a little after 30 minutes when the school had closed. (Yes, it was the same day that the washing machine exploded and Anders arrived in the car while his clothes were still wet from quickly washing all those clothes by hand).And we're just getting started with parenthood.

*Every time Anders brought Hilda home from school they didn't spend much time together. Hilda simply arrived home, changed her clothes, and went outside to look for her mother with Twig and her friends (Alfur had even sent a report to gather information to find out if anyone had seen Johana). At first Anders saw no problem in searching for Johana separately, so they would cover more ground. However, with each passing night, Anders noticed how Hilda came home later and later. It was the last straw when she returned at 03:00 A.M. Anders thought something horrible had happened to his daughter or that someone had kidnapped or tricked her. Anders tried to ask Hilda about where she was and what she was doing... And well, the situation escalated just like when Johana started asking Hilda about her adventures.

*Anders hadn't screamed that loud in years, neither had Hilda (and even though she had argued with her mother a few times, it was strangely new to try to scream louder than her father).

*After the sun rose they both apologized, curiously they both had a nightmare where the other also disappeared like Johana did. Nobody wanted that to happen. They hugged and reconciled (I would add more drama and other ideas, but I would like to know how you would develop this father-daughter situation)Well, these are some of the things I thought about Anders being a single dad.

However, I would like to know what you think. Seriously, I love reading other people's opinions and thoughts regarding all kinds of fanfics, AU's and also their head-canon of the series. I will be reading them all (if they post anything)

[perennialiris]

Date formats

How do you write dates? I see people post things like this to make fun of the ‘American’ format (when you write it like January 15, 2025).

I get it, I get it. We make fun of Americans because they use the imperial system for measuring distances and volume, which are both sort of dumb. I don’t think this is as bad, though.

When it comes to keeping track of dates in a big list or document, I always use the ISO 8601 content, which is for some reason being associated with some Asian countries and Iran here. It’s 2025-01-15, or sometimes you write the month with letters to remove any possible ambiguity (because ‘09-03’ could be September 3rd or March 9th), and because it just improves readability: 2025-JAN-15. There’s a common 2-letter short-form, which is used for date labels on food. The cream in my fridge just says ‘FE 02’.

The two-letter version has some unfortunate possible ambiguities if you don’t remember which letter is which. ‘JA’ has to be January, ‘FE’ has to be February, but then ‘MA’ is May, but that looks like it could also be March. March is ‘MR’. When I worked in retail, at least a few times every April, when we started getting products shipped in that had ‘MA’ as their best-by dates, customers would bring one to me thinking it was something that had expired in March, either to alert me or asking if I could get them something fresher. I had to clarify that March is ‘MR’. It’s something that slips people’s minds, because I point out that ‘MA’ is May and their reaction is always “oh yeah, duh, shit, nevermind, sorry”. This could’ve been avoided if May was ‘MY’, since ‘Y’ is its only unique letter. But the problem is that May is spelled Mai in French, and all our short-forms in Canada are bilingual (every 2-letter short-form works in both languages). I have seen some places suggest using ‘MY’, but ‘MA’ remains normal.

June looks like it would create ambiguity because if you make it ‘JU’ then it looks like it could be July, and if it were ‘JN’ then maybe that could be January. But in practice, we use ‘JN’ and I don’t think many people confuse them, perhaps because they’re far enough apart in the year.

Here’s a random date fact, by the way: the months July and August were named two thousand years ago after the Roman emperors Julius and Augustus. They later proposed changing more months to be named after emperors, but only those two were accepted. At some point the Roman government was going to change the name of September to name it after the current emperor Tiberius, but Tiberius himself vetoed it, so it remained September.

What was I talking about?

The reason the ISO date format is good is because it creates a natural sort. If you have thousands of pictures and you want them arranged by date and they were all saved as YYYY-MM-DD, then you can just arrange by name and everything will end up in chronological order, because you sort by year, then things with the same year are sorted by month, then things with the same month are sorted by day. Duh, right? If you save things as 11-28-2024, then all of your November 2022, November 2023, and November 2024 files end up together.

But in real speech, it makes sense that everybody gets used to saying the month first, and then put it first in writing (written speech emulates spoken word more than the other way around), because the month is the most meaningful and relevant information about when something happened in the vast majority of cases that we talk about when something is happening. Like, when did that article come out? In November. When did your wife get that job? Oh, back in February. When are you guys moving, when are you getting that bonus at work, when is your vacation, when are you going back to that college class, blah blah blah. There are so many practical things that just round off at the month because that’s specific enough. It gets us to a ~8% chunk of the year (1/12).

The year? That’s sometimes specific enough, especially for stuff a long time ago. When did you get that job? Oh, I was hired in 2015. I got this car in 2019. I remember when I got laid off in 2021. My husband and I got married in 2017. And sometimes you talk about days, obviously. I have an appointment on the 23rd, and the US president’s term doesn’t start til the 20th, and this year Easter is on April 20. These examples aren’t eye-opening. But my point is that I’m pretty sure the month being the most important time unit outweighs everything else, except when talking about things that are so short we don’t even bother giving them dates at all (e.g. “yesterday”, “this evening”, or things you refer to by days of the week, like “oh hey on Friday could you…”).

And of course, the date on its own is meaningless. Imagine if you ask when something happened and I say it was on the 13th, but I don’t remember of what month. What the fuck kind of answer is that? If you had to remove one thing from all the dates in your database, obviously it’d be day. Just round everything to the month. This form was filed in April 2022. That’s close enough. I don’t care what day. Something I noticed recently is that even people who ask my birthday are often satisfied if I just tell them the month. They really just want a vibe of what time of year it is.

But if you have engineer-brain and want to make the “US” solution (on that image) seem clean, maybe this will help: months go from 1–12. Days go from 1–31. Years go from… well, uh, a there’s a lot of possible years. So by saying MM-DD-YYYY, we’re going from the narrowest range to the widest. That’s a triangle, if you care enough to draw it as one. Bitches love triangles.

[ao3feed-newsies]

Did the Moon Hear You?

by, CleverEverest by CleverEverest “Who’s the ‘we’ you’re referring to, Fi?” Spot checked. “Race and I,” Finch clarified. Speaking more to Race, he said, “I don’t know if you remember it, but… you and I have made out before — when we were drunk, don’t forget that part.” “Holy shit,” Race laughed out, Albert immediately joining in at seeing his and Spot’s reactions. -- It starts when Finch shares something he'd never told his friends before. Spot doesn't know what to think of it, and things spiral into the realm of impossibility for Race and Albert. [ Newsiestober 2024 - Day 18: Bad Moon Rising ] Words: 10563, Chapters: 8/8, Language: English Series: Part 2 of The Moon's Kind Of... Fandoms: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M, Gen Characters: Racetrack Higgins, Albert DaSilva (Newsies), Finch (Newsies), Spot Conlon, Background & Cameo Characters, Mush Meyers, JoJo (Newsies) Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies) Additional Tags: Newsiestober 2024, Bad moon rising, definitely stretching with this but hear me out, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Husbands, No cheating, Body Swap, Confusion, Full Moon, POV Alternating, Swearing read : https://ift.tt/j5DRG1X - November 03, 2024 at 12:11AM

[automatismoateo]

As a 16 year old black male who grew up in a Christian family I will attempt to deconstruct the existence of God - step by step. via /r/atheism

As a 16 year old black male who grew up in a Christian family, I will attempt to deconstruct the existence of God - step by step. Before I begin, I would like to clarify that when I say “god” I’m simply just talking about the entity that’s supposedly “all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good, transcendent, invisible, disembodied mind and omnipresent. (You are free to attack my arguments however you want) Ok first and foremost, unless christian apologists can coherently define what a god is, that’s when we can consider the mere possibility of gods existence. But as far as I can tell, each individual property of god is contradictory by definition, and it gets even WORSE when you shove it all into one entity. So i’ll demonstrate exactly what I mean by this. Example #1 of incoherence: can an omnipotent entity, create a rock so heavy in which another omnipotent entity cannot lift? ^ people may say "omnipotence can only do anything thats logically possible" or "god cant contradict himself". But apologists fail to realize that this doesn't attack god, but demonstrates how incoherent and inconsistent omnipotence really is. Incoherence #2, The problem of evil: Many apologists LOVE to strawman this argument just to close it off with the typical "its just free will bro." But embarassingly fail to grasp unnessecary evil that doesn't provide any sort of benefit whatsoever (e.g. a typhoon hitting japan, or an earthquake hitting turkey.) And let me just carefully define what I mean by "evil/bad" so people don't get confused. Evil (in my terms): any thing or action that neglects empathy, cooperation, pleasure, and self intrest to ultimately harm our species, and/or other species that contribute to these principles. ^ and by this definiton, we can easily put god into the catagory of evil, just from natural disasters ALONE, and it'll get even WORSE considering any religious book. Incoherence #3, god is a dummy head: If god is all knowing and all good, why does he create people prematurely knowing their final destiny will end up in hell? ^ you can attempt to argue your way out of this with a "its just free will bro", but you'll embarassingly fail due to the fact that god predetemines your future wether you like it or not (since he's all knowing of course) So to conclude, if we have all these contradictory and paradoxical abilities, it simply just can't be possible that "god" exists unless we redefine him... but apologists even say "if god doesn't have these attributes, then that isn't god" --> words I actually heard from multiple apologists. ^ Therefore, by using even the apologists definition, god does NOT exist. well I'm getting tired, so ill make another reddit post later just absolutely shitting on all of the "top 10 arguments for gods existence!!!" because literally every single one of them relies off of personal incredulity and strawmans... (trust me i've seen every one of them) Submitted July 13, 2024 at 03:44PM by Infamous_Ad51 (From Reddit https://ift.tt/zfCiDTc)

[qs63]

Oh this is a great comment.

You're absolutely right there is no canonical age for Riza other than us knowing she's around Roy's age but younger than Roy (from the use of honorifics).

I actually base the idea of Riza being around 16 at the time of Berthold dies on the OVA "Yet Another Man's Battlefield". There, Roy is 18 when he joins the military academy and everyone we are shown (including Hughes) seems to be around the same age as Roy. We also see Roy's upper classmate (meaning there's more than 1 year of academy) and we see that Roy has graduated and is a Warrant Officer when Berthold dies which Brotherhood dates as 1905 putting Roy at around 20 years. So the military academy is only two years long.

Now, we know Riza was still in the academy in 1908 during Ishval thanks to Hughes, that's three years after her father's death. If she had joined the military right after Berthold's death she would have been graduated. So Riza should have more than a year since enrolling in the military (because I doubt they would send a freshman to the battlefield, if anything for lack of training), but less than two years (or she would have graduated). If we assume she joined at 18 just like Roy and Hughes, perhaps due to an age restriction, she would be 19 during Ishval and 16 at the moment of Berthold's death. Be as it may that coincides with the age given by the 03 complete book: side story.

Of course I could be wrong and she could be younger or older, and I should have clarified that. That's my bad. That doesn't change much of the analysis, Riza could be as young as 14 at the time of Berthold's death and she would still have completed Meiji Era elementary school education. She could be older and the same would be true.

Meiji Japan was all about modernization with a heavy emphasis on westernization. One of the things they did was make sure everyone could have access to elementary school (age 6-14) even in the rural areas. They were very good at achieving this and these elementary schools served as a platform for indoctrinating the Japanese people during the Imperial Japan era (hello WWII). The same seems to be true for Amestris as Resembool which is VERY rural had a school even during a civil war. It makes sense too. They're a military dictator ship, schools are great places to promote ultra nationalistic and pro-militaristic ideas (hello pre-Ishval Roy and Riza).

People back then rarely went beyond elementary school and only 4 years of those were mandatory, so even graduating elementary school was proper education unless you were aiming for university to be a doctor or such. It is said secondary schools were mostly academies to prepare people for university and almost exclusively reserved for middle and upper class peers. I saw that only 11% of graduated boys and 5% of graduated girls attended higher education. Even if Riza only completed schooling from 6 to 14 that is still a good education, unless she wanted to go to university.

Now regarding the boys and Winry... Winry is there in the photo you linked. She's the kid sleeping behind the book. We also see her going back home from school with the boys a few panels later.

Ed can't be 11 here. He became a State Alchemist at 12 on 1911, a year after the failed human transmutation. Ed had already lost his limbs at age 11. The school scenes also happen in between the brothers leaving and returning from Izumi's, and we actually know the year for this because we see a flier saying the civil war is over, so this is late 1908.

The last time we see any school panel is right before the transmutation so the boys would be around 10-11, 9-10, that complies with the 4 years compulsory elementary school education system.

I do hope this clarifies things a little bit more, and I'm sorry for the confusion about Riza's age.

I've been thinking about this panel a lot and what kind of education Riza and Roy (and the other characters) received.

We only ever see the main trio going to school, and even that timeline is confusing as the brothers leave with Izumi when they're 10 and 9, and we see Winry working with her grandma from an equally young age.

So what does "a good education" mean in the world of FMA?

To answer this, I decided to look into what must have been Arakawa's influence for the FMA educational system: Meiji Era Japan.

Unsurprisingly the structure of the Meiji era education seems to fit Fullmetal Alchemist.

Meiji era Japan had a compulsory 4 years elementary school system (later expanded to 6 compulsory years) for kids aged 6-14. Only a small portion of elementary school graduates from the upper and middle class continued on to five-year academic secondary schools for boys or five-year secondary schools for girls; the majority entered the labor force or to two-year higher elementary schools. [1]

In FMA this would mean the brothers must have only completed the 4 years of compulsory elementary school, and then left to study alchemy with Izumi. Same for Winry, who seems to have started working with her grandma around the time the boys left.

When Riza says her dad made sure she received a good education, that would mean that at the very least he had her complete all 8 years of elementary school. But considering the timeline (Berthold dies when Riza is 16) and her emphasis on good education, it is likely he also had her complete the 2 years (from age 14-16) of higher elementary school.

Mind you, free compulsory education only became a thing in Japan after 1900, and the fees for education seem to have been high enough that people complained. For a poor family like the Hawkeyes a good chunk of their money must have gone to Riza's education.

In the case of Roy we have less information about his childhood, but it's very likely he also completed all 8 years of elementary school since there is no indication he started alchemy training as early as the brothers, and his aunt seems wealthy enough to afford paying the fees.

Whether Roy attended higher elementary school is a harder question to answer, but I'm leaning towards him not going beyond the initial 8 years of elementary school.

From what I read, science was mostly left to secondary school education in Meiji era Japan, and we know Roy didn't attend the 5 years secondary school as he was studying under Berthold in his late teens. Still, Roy would need a solid base of scientific knowledge to start his alchemy studies, which elementary school wouldn't provide. It's more likely that Roy studied science by himself after he completed elementary school until he had the basis to become Berthold's alchemy apprentice.

Let me know your thoughts and speculation about their education. 😄

[thepixelelf]

and the universe said,

03 "this day will make the you of tomorrow"

genres/tags: soulmate au, idol au, comedy, romance, dumbassery chapter warnings: language, relationship(s): ot13 x reader

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

series masterlist

prev ⭒ chapter three (2.9k) ⭒ next

It’s not lost on Lee Jihoon that, even though he's written love songs since he was fifteen and poems even before that — which is privileged information he’ll never share with anyone — he’s only been in love once.

And he’s grateful for that. Sometimes he thinks about her; about what kind of life he’d be living if certain things went certain ways. And he smiles. Not because she was beautiful — which she was — or because in his imagination, he acted braver — which he didn’t — but because even though that love would never know if it was returned, he still felt it. He knew it was real. It was at once an infinitely warm and bitingly cold feeling. Jihoon’s written quite a few songs from that first and last love.

Except, he doesn’t think that was his last love. Not really. Maybe it’s true in the romantic sense, but…

He won’t say it, of course. What he feels for his members. His friends. His brothers.

No… no. Speaking it out loud is unnecessary.

Mingyu’s hand grabs his, encasing it in a soft but tight grip as Yejung calls for the attention of the room. Jihoon doesn’t squeeze back, but his thumb lightly curls around Mingyu’s palm.

“If there really is a person that’s attached to all of you through your marks, we need to plan a course of action.” Yejung fidgets with her hands, and Jihoon can tell she wishes she was pointing at a slideshow on the wall and showing them interaction rates, rather than this unquantifiable soulmate business.

“We still don’t have a dating ban here,” Myungjun says, arms crossed as he lets his eyes roam to each of the boys. “But I think we all know what happens when famous heartthrobs get hitched. I was never worried about it before because you’re all, frankly—” He glances at Jihoon. “—bitchless, but…”

Chan makes an affronted sound, and someone whines, “Hyung!”

Jihoon can only hold in a pout because Myungjun looked at him when he said that, and he’s right.

Yejung lightly smacks Myungjun’s shoulder. “What we’re trying to say is this: Seventeen’s ratings are skyrocketing because of this whole soulmate thing,” she explains. “But I can’t imagine those numbers moving in a positive direction if these fans find out your marks connect you to someone unfamiliar rather than each other.”

Myungjun nods. “Whatever outcome, it wouldn’t be good.”

“Don’t Carats want us to be happy?” Seokmin dares to ask.

“Well—” Yejung's expression turns pained. “Yes, it’s just that—”

“You guys are one of the biggest kpop acts on the block right now,” Myungjun supplies easily. “Despite how good I’m sure most of your fans are, there will always be people who aren’t. Just a few bad apples can spoil the bunch.”

Yejung clarifies, “It’s about safety and privacy. There are sasaengs who follow you around and take pictures without your consent. There are people who would do anything to support their favourite celebrities, including defaming you guys by any means necessary. The internet is a powerful weapon. Who’s to say it won’t be used against you because of this?”

No one argues with that. Each of the members has dealt with the bad side of the internet more than once, if in different ways. Though none of them refute what Yejung said, it’s her next question that really gets their minds turning.

“Who’s to say your soulmate won’t get hurt?”

Your soulmate.

Jihoon’s soulmate.

Hurt? No.

No no no no no.

A rising panic stains the room, and Yejung and Myungjun share a look that all but a few miss.

“Which—” Yejung puts more volume into her voice to grab the attention of the members, and maybe to pull them away from whatever spiralling they were about to do. “—is why we’re asking you all to just lay low for a while.”

“Lay low?” Junhui echoes.

Myungjun nods again. “For now, the short-term plan is to continue propagating the idea that you’re all each other’s platonic soulmates.”

“Just while research is still being done,” Yejung says. “It also gives us at the company an opportunity to figure things out in the meantime.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow, suspicious. “What are you asking us to do to” —he puts his fingers up in air quotes— “‘lay low’?”

Myungjun and Yejung share another look, and he sighs, knowing that he’s better adept to being the bearer of bad news.

“Don’t go looking for your soulmate.”

The room practically bristles.

Yejung puts both her hands out, as if the irritation in the air is something she can actually push down. “Actively,” she clarifies. “Don’t go actively searching for this person. The last thing we want is to stop you guys from finding, uh, love, but… you can understand how weird this all is, right? The entire situation is a grey area.”

For the first time since this whole meeting started, Jeonghan actually looks a bit put off. "But they're my soulmate," he says, ignorant to the way some of the boys react to his use of the word my.

"They're also an unknown variable," Myungjun replies. He too ignores the mumbles and grumbles of the members; he's had years of practice with that. "This is nowhere near the same thing as one of you having a secret boyfriend or girlfriend or partner. You guys are all connected to this person. We can't just walk into this blind. One wrong move, and your soulmate’s well-being could be at stake. If worst comes to worst, they might be forced to forget what ‘privacy’ even means.”

Jihoon can tell, easily, Myungjun is weaponizing the safety of his — their soulmate to influence their compliance, but shit, it works. He feels something itching under his skin, an urge to protect someone he doesn’t even know. “Okay,” he says.

Scandalized, Soonyoung gapes at Jihoon like he just claimed something truly offensive like, actually, tigers aren’t that cool. “Jihoon! You can’t be serious— my soulmate is waiting for me!”

Everyone’s getting a little too cozy with this whole my business…

But Jihoon just shrugs, his face the picture of stoicism and maturity. “It’s just for now.”

“Just for now,” Yejung reassures.

Seungcheol nods, his lips in a contemplative pout rather than the typical whining one. “You’re right,” he cedes to the staff. “It’ll be a media circus if word gets out.”

“Wouldn’t it be worth it?” Vernon asks no one in particular.

He doesn’t get an answer.

Myungjun clears his throat. “Look, we’re just asking for some time here. Everything I’ve heard about soulmates suggests that you will find this person, whether you go looking for them or not. I, for one, want to be prepared for when — not if — that happens.”

Relaxing a bit in his chair, Seokmin lets out a tiny sigh through his nose. He looks at his hands in his lap for a second, then back up at Myungjun. “Promise?”

Yejung seems to find relief in the gradual lessening of tension in the room, and she smiles. “Promise.”

Jihoon watches the way Seokmin’s smile grows, then gets pushed back as Seokmin tries and fails to hide his giddiness as he looks down at his lap again. The idea that this fated meeting is, well, fated is eliciting a similar reaction in many of them.

“For what it’s worth,” Myungjun cuts into whatever the heck is happening between the boys without care. “We’re asking you guys not to look for them, but if they find you…” He lets out a half-chuckle. “Well, not much we can do about that.”

⭒

Writer’s block is certainly not something Jihoon’s never dealt with, but as he sits there in his studio, one hand hovering over the keyboard and the other clutching uselessly to the mouse he hasn’t done anything with except swirl around for the last hour, he wonders if it’s ever been as bad as this. The same pressure as always weighs upon him. More songs. More hits. More collabs. More More More More More.

It’s strange, though. He’s had days where he’s not coming up with anything. Weeks. He’s gone through longer droughts, so why is this one night making his entire body ache? Why does the dull pain seep from his chest to the tips of his fingers?

He wants to write for you, but he doesn’t know who you are.

“Hyung?” Seungkwan pokes his head into the studio, hair still mussed from when he woke up. “Have you been here all night? It’s almost eight.”

Jihoon just grimaces in response, and Seungkwan clicks his tongue.

“And you say you love sleep so much… tch. We have that radio appearance in three hours, so I was sent to save you from yourself. The makeup team can take care of those dark eyebags” 

Though he could probably use the rest, Jihoon pinches the skin around his wrist to keep himself from falling asleep in the van as it gets driven from the salon to the broadcasting station. If he falls asleep now, it’ll be a whole hassle to get him back up and alert again.

He stares at his mark. The five straight lines just sit there, blank.

His soulmate hasn’t sang in a couple days — not since that meeting about them.

Jihoon has to wonder. Do they not know how the mark shared between them and the rest of the members works? Or… are they doing it on purpose? To sever the mark before it can lead him anywhere.

It’s almost like they know.

Oh? Your company doesn’t want you to find me? You got it, boss. Never liked singing anyway.

He has to admit, though, his soulmate didn’t sing much before, either. When he could catch his mark playing, it never lasted long, but he always pulled his phone out anyway to record it on video. He would play the video back, humming along to a clef and key he’d have to guess, then sing what he’d come up with into google and hope for the best. A couple of Day6 songs, some American artists, one Mozart and one Beethoven, some tunes he couldn’t even identify — maybe they sang out of key or just skipped notes they didn’t feel like hitting. He could hardly blame his soulmate for not singing every day. It’s not everyone’s job.

But if they know their soulmate can see it… wouldn’t they sing at least a little?

Jihoon is hungry.

“I would kill for an iced coffee right now,” Seungkwan says from the backseat.

Joshua doesn’t look up from his phone. “There will be some at the venue.”

“But their coffee always tastes so bad.” Wrinkling his nose, Seungkwan crosses his arms. “It’s like ninety-nine percent water, and then they pour it over a full cup of ice.”

“It’s free. What do you expect?” Jeonghan counters.

Seungkwan frowns. “Coffee.”

Seokmin opens his mouth to join the budding conversation, but he stops short when Jihoon groans out, “Can we pull over?”

Their driver meets Jihoon’s eyes in the rearview mirror, a bit surprised. She asks, worried, “Are you okay?”

“Just wanna grab something to eat.”

The car pulls up in front of a cafe, which looks empty enough for the staff member in the driver’s seat to give it their stamp of approval. The boys don’t generally run into trouble in public eateries, but they still try to be careful.

“I’m going to park around the corner,” the driver tells him.

“Get me an iced coffee while you’re in there!” Seungkwan yells out the window after Jihoon slides the van door in his face.

Jihoon lifts one non-committal hand halfway up in the air as he walks off, not caring if Seungkwan sees it or not.

Neither the coffee shop nor its menu are anything to write home about, but Jihoon stands patiently in line while the person in front of him tries to explain to the tired barista that they had to have the drink they want in stock because they ordered it last time, while the barista calmly states that they’ve never even heard of a frappu-cappu-latte. He eyes the pastries and sandwiches in the display case, and when the customer in front of him finally walks out with a huff, he orders something to eat for himself and a coffee for Seungkwan. Not because of feelings-that-shall-not-be-named, of course. Jihoon just felt like it is all.

He’s about to walk out when that familiar sensation pinches at his right hand, and he looks down at his mark. Notes, for the first time in 79 hours — not that he’s been counting — flit across the staff, and his eyes widen. With his left hand, he puts down the paper bag with the sandwich in it and pulls out his phone, ready to record the music, but he pauses. He recognizes the notes. It’s easy to read because it’s playing right now.

A soft rock song plays quietly through the cafe speakers, going on about zombies or something, and it corresponds exactly with the notes on the hand still holding Seungkwan’s precious coffee.

Jihoon whips his head up and around, desperate for something or someone just on the tip of his tongue. There aren’t that many people in the coffee shop, and he can quickly tell that neither the barista nor the old couple sitting in the corner are singing.

He sees your back first, your face hidden as you look out the window, and then he hears it.

Slowly, he approaches behind you, your humming becoming more and more clear with each step. He wants to roll around in a field of your voice. He wants to drink it like warm soup.

What the fuck? He needs to get his shit together.

Say hello, his brain oh so helpfully supplies. Don’t be weird.

And he means to. He really does. Jihoon is mature and chill and calm under duress. He’s pined after by millions. He’s humble and cool.

He’s pouring Seungkwan’s coffee on you.

Your entire body jolts, your drink flying out of your hand before you turn around with shock and fury mixed in your eyes.

Oh, god, your eyes.

“What the fuck!” you blurt out, and Jihoon’s eyes flick down to his hand, where the notes have disappeared and left only the five lines behind.

You’re real, you’re here, and—

“Hello?!”

—and you’re extremely pissed at him.

“Shit,” he whispers, so quiet even he can barely hear it, and no one could tell he’s saying anything underneath his mask. “Fuck. Shit. Fuck.”

“Why would you do that?!” You step closer to him, and in the back of his mind, Jihoon registers that he’s crushed both the cup in his right hand and the lid in his left. You squint, eyes skirting over his facial features not hidden by his mask. “Do I even know you?”

Jihoon stumbles back, half because this is exactly what his company told him not to do, and half because he’s incredibly intimidated. “I… I’m— Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean? Didn’t mean to straight up pour your coffee on me?”

Intelligently, he says, “It’s not my coffee.”

You scoff in clear disbelief, and Jihoon wants to smack himself. Lifting your hand, you open your mouth to no doubt tell him off some more — well deserved, honestly — but an alarm sounds. Gasping, you turn around and hurry back to your table, grabbing your phone and silencing the alarm with a quiet, “Damn it.”

Jihoon can only stand, frozen, while you quickly pack up your things. You almost speed-walk right past him to leave, but then you seem to change your mind, a determined frown on your face.

Weird how that’s cute, too.

“Give me your phone.” You hold your hand out.

Jihoon blinks. “My…?”

“Phone,” you finish for him, moving your fingers as if to say, come on, hand it over.

Well. How can he argue with that?

You type something into his phone that he can’t see because he’s busy being stupefied.

“Here.” You click his phone off and hand it back to him. “If you block me, I’ll kill you.”

And then you’re gone.

Jihoon just stands there, in the middle of the cafe, his phone in his hand and the plastic cup abandoned on another empty table.

On his phone, a text thread is open to an unknown number. Only one message has been sent, technically from him.

I’ll pay you back for the shirt

He stares at the text for a good while, a text from his soulmate to his soulmate.

Holy fuck this is his soulmate’s number.

Jihoon’s gawking is only interrupted by a message popping up over the unknown number.

[jeonghan] staff says get back here or we’re gonna be late

When Jihoon returns to the van, not just Seungkwan, but he and the rest of the vocal unit all give him a weird look. He’s holding his phone close to his chest, clutched so tight between his fingers you’d think it’s made of pure gold.

Yejung’s words from the meeting, right before dismissing everyone for the day, echo in the back of his mind.

“If you do happen to cross paths with your soulmate, tell us immediately. We need to keep this in-house.”

Jihoon smiles, almost a breath of a laugh, and he shakes his head to himself.

Oppositely, Seokmin frowns, and he leans closer to Joshua to stage-whisper, “I think he’s more sleep-deprived than we thought.”

Seungkwan addresses it directly, though. He scrutinizes Jihoon’s free hand, which is, well, free. 

“Did you even buy anything?”

⭒

In the cafe, a tired, broke, just-trying-to-get-through-college barista mops the floor clean of two drinks, muttering, “One more weirdo and I’m quitting this fucking job.”

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[h2obased]

Oh please, they're not that blue (Bucky Barnes One-Shot)

Pairing: Bucky x F!Agent!Reader

Summary: A little flirting never hurt nobody, unless you're Clint Barton. (This is not a Clint Barton fic.)

Notes & Warnings:

"Oh please, they're not that blue" just stuck to me yesterday, and the only way to move on from the line was to write this. I think I'm going to try doing more one-shots in the future. :)

Sexual innuendos and situations, flirting, fluff, canon-typical violence.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied/reposted/translated anywhere. I only post stories here and on AO3.

Word count: 3,983

My masterlist

No one ever talked about how missions were typically only 10 percent combat-related and the rest was logging reports and expenses, training, traveling, arguing with someone on a screen, pleading your case to someone who outranked you, and worse than that, waiting. Sitting around, hoping for the best. Working with highly-skilled individuals sent on covert missions that were so deadly, so way above your clearance level, your main contribution was getting them to the target site on schedule and crossing your fingers.

Praying, if you’re on the spiritual side. Performing light maintenance work on the Quinjet, if you’d rather do something with your hands.

You felt bad about complaining about boredom from the safety of the sophisticated aircraft.

“Glorified aircraft babysitter,” Bucky Barnes called you. He’s not entirely wrong. These jets practically flew themselves, but the government limited use of unmanned planes (with good reason, just google Tony Stark + unmanned suit) so in the meantime, pilots like you had a job.

You checked the engines for the second time that hour and before that, ran a 20-minute lap around the aircraft because you’re not allowed to leave the jet unattended.

The third hour arrived without ceremony and you slipped into the cockpit for the second check-in. You would kill for a hot cup of coffee just about now. There were supplies at the back but those things were nasty.

The tell-tale glimmer on the horizon signaled sunrise in a few minutes. You landed on a clearing approximately 10 kilometers from the target site a little before 03:00 hours that morning. Cloudy skies gave you some cover from the moon. Sunrise was a different story. The Quinjet will be fully exposed to satellites within the hour.

You stared at the speakers on the overhead panel, as if anyone would sense you through it. Blowing raspberries through your lips, you reached for the call button. Your finger hovered the green notch.

Bucky ordered you not to break radio silence unless absolutely necessary.

“My capture? Not urgent.” He reminded you hours ago as he and Clint Barton strapped their weapons on after the plane landed. Clasps snapped and adjusted. Accessories clipped and secured. You didn’t want to keep tabs on how many guns Bucky was packing but he definitely had more guns than he had hands.

Bucky threw you a stern look because you were more interested in the small knife he just slipped inside his boot. “Barton’s capture? Not urgent.”

Clint cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I’d say that’s a matter of urgency, but does anyone ever listen?” He tapped his modified hearing device which glowed purple in his ear. “Comm check.”

“Check.” You tapped your own lightweight device. “I’d plow the Quinjet through a building to get to you, Clint.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite Uber driver.” Clint pointed to you appreciatively as he examined his bow before attaching it to the specialized quiver on his back.

Bucky ignored the lighthearted exchange, intent on clarifying what constituted “necessary use of comms.” “My death-”

You waved him off. Grim and gore, not your thing. “If you croak, then there’s even less of a reason to break silence because that would only alert the enemy to the location of the Quinjet.”

With a few quick steps, Bucky stood right next to you. Your arm grazed his belt. He stared you down as if you weren’t taking the mission as seriously as he was. His breath fanned your ear when he leaned into you. “And we don’t want the jet to fall into the wrong hands, do we?” His low voice sounded sinister. It’s his job to scare you and keep you on your toes.

You don’t agree with his methods all the time, but one of you was a military veteran and the other one got their job because they happened to be fantastic at video games. Still, standing this close to him affected you in more ways than you’d care to admit.

Bucky reached for his ear device. “Comm check.”

The static pierced your ear but you didn’t wince because he didn’t. “Check.”

“Damn right,” he whispered before finally straightening up and following Clint out of the exit ramp. He pulled his hair back using a hair tie from his wrist as he took quick strides.

“Bucky!” You rushed to the ramp.

He turned with his head tilted. Under the moonlight, you imagined his frustrated expression. You’re not supposed to be hollering in the woods even though you were in the middle of nowhere.

You held your left fist up and tapped your wrist watch. Don’t forget the check-in.

He nodded from a distance and mimicked you. I won’t. Without wasting another second, he jogged into the opposite direction from Clint and disappeared within seconds.

Your thumb tapped the speaker impatiently. The training manual said a delayed check-in must be reported within five minutes. Neither operative made contact yet and it’s 13 minutes past schedule.

The waiting was always the worst part, because within that period, everything you dreaded could have happened already. Enemy ambush. Capture. Torture. For all you knew, the world was about to end while you were checking inventory and fiddling with lines of code you promised Tony Stark you wouldn’t touch.

You checked the horizon again, noting the subtle transition, from red gold to yellow as the sun ascended over the mountains and planes in this part of West Asia.

“Fuck it,” you declared, reaching for the button again.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Bucky’s voice came through the speaker in bursts.

You immediately scanned the area through the windshield and spotted a figure in a dark tac suit approaching. He could not have seen what you were about to do. No way. His eyesight was amazing, but not that amazing… No way. You watched him marching toward the plane. Your thumb flicked the ramp switch and in a couple of minutes, Bucky entered from the back of the jet.

Cool air entered the cockpit. You hurried to the back to see if he needed help.

He unzipped his thick outer jacket immediately and discarded it on the floor. “Gimme a break, I’ll clean that up later,” he said when he saw you eyeing the mess. You nodded to the bruise forming on his cheek. “Walked into a door,” he lied without a second thought. “I’m fine,” he insisted when you continued to look at him openly. Bucky Barnes didn’t have a monopoly on glaring, even though he believed he did.

The dark-haired soldier removed two hand guns from behind him, and two more from the jacket on the floor, and deposited these in the firearm safety cage. After double checking the lock, he collapsed on a bench and stretched his legs out.

“Where’s Barton?”

He stretched his neck and rolled his metal arm. The sound of Vibranium plates readjusting filled the jet. “I don’t know,” he replied after a few seconds.

“Let me try-”

“Wait.”

You stopped in your tracks not only because he was the mission leader, but deep down you also trusted he had the experience you lacked. Too much experience, he would say with a dry laugh, if only there was a way he could pass on knowledge to you expeditiously.

“You mean like stick your hard drive into her?” Sam commented with a deadpan look. Laughter erupted around the table in the mess hall.

Bucky scowled. It was more of a reaction to Sam’s existence than the dirty joke. You couldn’t be mad because you teased Sam about performance issues in front of his date weeks ago. This was payback in installments.

You reached across the table to steal a fry off Sam’s plate and maintained eye contact with him as you popped it between your parted mouth, making sure to suck your bottom lip loudly while chewing.

“Damn woman,” Sam chuckled.

Life at the base was a cake walk compared to the tense gaps during field missions when absolutely nothing or everything happened. You’re supposed to sit tight.

Bucky waved at you to sit next to him. “Come on, you should be used to this by now.”

You crossed your arms and stayed put. “No, I don’t think I want to get used to worrying about my friends.”

His messy bun fell apart when he leaned his head against the side panel and closed his eyes. “You know what I meant.” He smirked and opened one eye. “Did you just admit to worrying about me?”

“I said friends.” You slammed the medicine drawer shut and threw an ice pack at him, which he caught without flinching.

Bucky’s smirk intensified. He placed the pack over his face, humming quietly. “Sit and try to relax instead of watching me like it’s my fault Barton’s late.”

You’re used to his glib comments. “First of all, I don’t need to relax. You’re the one who’s like ‘oh I don’t need to be saved, stay off the comms, don’t attract attention, fuck the manual’ this morning and secondly, you’re really full of yourself if you thought I was watching you.”

With a silent sigh, you retreated to the cockpit, taking a tablet with you to review flight logs for the fifth time that day.

The Quinjet was quiet for several minutes. You and Bucky each remained on your end of the aircraft. You wondered if he fell asleep at some point because you couldn’t pick up the slightest movement but you didn’t want to be the first to turn around and speak.

He’s an oaf, a huge block of a man who filled every room he entered with his presence and wouldn’t hesitate to kick a door down on a bad day. His ability to move like a cat, navigate a room without making a sound, and slide into spaces gracefully boggled the mind.

Your mind, in particular, but you haven’t told him that. No sense giving Bucky one more thing to be smug about.

Your eyes landed on the speakers again and when he called out your name, you were convinced Bucky could see into your head. That’s the only way to explain all of this.

He added vowels to your name when he pronounced it with a teasing, jovial tone. When you didn’t respond, Bucky approached, his footsteps even and quick, boots scraping the floor on purpose. He wanted you to know he’s crossing the invisible line in the middle of the jet.

“Listen. Barton’s fine. Give him some credit. But don’t tell him I said that.”

You looked up from the tablet. “I need to move the jet deeper into the woods soon. We don’t have cover here.” You checked the skies out of habit.

Bucky crouched next to you in the cockpit, looking out of the front window too. Part of you wanted to let him know how relieved you were when his voice came on the speakers earlier. You breathed a little easier. You and Bucky sniped at each other, but his presence reassured you more than anything.

His eyes scanned the perimeter, his gaze reaching twice, triple the distance your eyes could see. His pink lips pouted, which only meant he had something in mind and he’s having an internal debate about letting you in or carrying the burden by himself.

He’s a pretty good looking guy especially when he’s brooding.

Without warning, his eyes flicked toward you and he grinned because he just caught you gaping at him. “See anything you like?”

Heat fanned out from your core to every limb. Bucky observed your flustered reaction with amusement. It was a game you played with him often, but it still stirred butterflies in your stomach. You always struggled with the boyish charm on display when he’s being a self-centered prick around you.

“Maybe,” you raised your eyebrows suggestively.

Bucky’s jaw dropped and blushing cheeks made his eye color pop. You thought you had him. He grabbed the back of your seat. “I suspected you have a thing for these baby blues.” He tucked his hair behind an ear to give you a better view. He spoke with such confidence and delight and in that moment you decided you would have to worry about Clint later. Right now you had to get away from this cocky bastard.

“I’m going to need some air because your ego just sucked all the oxygen in here.” You pushed past him to leave but it was going to take some maneuvering. Bucky refused to budge. He blocked the path, forcing you to lean into him in an attempt to elbow your way out of the cockpit. It was like asking a concrete wall to move but you were equally as stubborn, if only for the sake of your pride. He laughed over your muffled grunting, like he was being tickled. On the other hand, you began to get exhausted.

After a minute of this childish shoving competition you had no way of winning, you clambered over the seat instead, propping a hand on his shoulder on your way out of the cockpit.

He followed you to the ramp, soft chuckles mocking you. “Just admit you like my eyes; I won’t feel objectified.”

“Oh please, they’re not that blue!” You retorted before storming down the ramp.

Immediate embarrassment flooded you. It wasn’t from lying about the arresting blue of Bucky Barnes’ eyes; it came from realizing he’s on to you now. Your boots hit the dirt as you stomped your way to a lone tree a few feet from the jet.

“What, just sorta kinda blue then?” He said from behind you, which you pretend not to hear.

There’s no justice for ordinary humans like you, who recently realized just how into Bucky you were. It’s not even funny when he winked at you at the compound, prompting Sam to say things like, “You guys are too adorable, now stop making eyes at each other, people are trying to eat here.”

“Blue-ish?” Bucky continued to blab from the foot of the ramp.

You paced under the shade of a tree, faking interest in a patch of weeds and wishing he’d shut up. He couldn't even name another shade of blue; he just kept repeating the word. Bluesy. Bluer than blue. Ocean blue. Blue like your faded jeans.

He was setting bait. You’d be stupid to bite, but the urge, Jesus, the urge to list shades of blue to his face was nearly impossible to resist.

Part of you entertained the idea of confessing from where you stood. That ought to shut him up for a few seconds. If you were lucky, he’d smile sincerely and give you the “aww shucks” look he did so well, the one where his puppy dog eyes twinkled and you forgave him for whatever stupid stunt he just pulled.

If you weren’t too lucky, he’d say he’s flattered but he just doesn’t feel the same. Sometimes he can be quite an ass, but he’s a good guy at heart, Bucky, and the thought of him letting you down gently made you feel nauseous. It would devastate you and you’re going to have to ask for a transfer, plain and simple. The threat of rejection was enough to make sure you kept a lid on that little chest of explosive emotions.

Your apprehensions drowned out Bucky’s rambling. You didn’t even realize he’d followed you under the shade. He startled you when he grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him.

“What’s wrong with you? I asked you to get back to the damn jet three times!” He dragged you back with him to the aircraft without waiting for a reply. Bucky’s grip didn’t ease up, not even after the ramp retracted and he sealed the jet.

His fingers pinched your arm, close to cutting circulation off. He pushed you against the side panels without another word, standing so close to you, his feet planted next to yours.

“Buck-”

He frowned and shook his head. Bucky’s forehead creased. His eyes were on yours and you could tell this was no longer about how many kinds of blues he could name.

He wasn’t angry at you. He was trying to focus. You gingerly placed a hand over the one clutching your arm. “Starting to lose sensation here,” you spoke softly, careful not to contribute to the tension.

His eyes followed your hand and within a blink, Bucky released your arm, but he did not step away. “Fuck. Did I - shit I’m so sorry. Fuck I’m sorry.” He kept whispering apologies, his lips brushing your ear, and his hand caressing the air next to your arm. He couldn’t bring himself to touch what he’d been so close to seriously hurting.

You moved your hand over his chest to get his attention. His heart pounded against your palm and you immediately realized something was amiss. “What’s wrong?”

He inhaled sharply. “Three to four vehicles headed this way. We have a couple of minutes.”

“Clint?”

Bucky shrugged. “No way to tell.” He inspected your hand on his heart and released a strained sigh, not unlike the one you made earlier. “I’m sorry - you have to believe me, I just - had to get you back inside; it’s safer here.” He rested his forehead on yours to catch his breath. When he finally lifted his head to address you again, Bucky wore a determined expression. “Gotta deal with incoming.”

Your head spun. You registered the mounting worry in the back of your head. “What does that even mean?”

He sighed impatiently. “As soon as I’m positive Clint isn’t out there, I’ll let you know. Get ready to leave.”

You didn’t like it, but you had to agree it’s the best course of action.

“Listen for my signal.”

You truly despised waiting, especially when Bucky sacrificed his own safety to ensure yours. A limp hand fell to your side and you turned away in an attempt to hide your fear.

“Thought you’d be happy to see a handful of henchmen rough me up some.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know how I really feel, Bucky,” you snapped at him. You pushed him away, knowing it was a futile attempt. Bucky didn’t move unless he wanted to.

“Hey.” The urgency in his voice was enough to make you stop struggling against him. “This sure as hell isn’t the time for this, but I'm not stepping out there thinking the love of my life hates my guts.”

His words knocked the irritation out of you. Even Bucky appeared stunned by his own admission. For the first time since you’ve known each other, Bucky looked like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next. He recovered after a moment. With a gentle, steady hand, he lifted your chin. He seemed amused by what just took place but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was also relief in his face, like a weight has been lifted. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said.

He switched into super soldier mode the moment he stepped away. Within seconds, he’s armed and ready. When Bucky glanced at you again, he was the mission leader ordering you to open the rear.

You hit the button with a resigned fist. The ramp descended and this time the air entering the jet felt dry and suffocating. Your heart raced and you nearly missed the crackling radio signal under the droning ramp gears.

“Clint?” You pressed the device deeper into your ear even though that did nothing to improve the signal.

“...got a bike!” His agitated voice yelled over the roaring engines. “...two jeeps on my six!”

You raced to the cockpit and checked the display panel. As if on cue, the monitor picked up incoming movement south of the jet. “We see you.” Within seconds, you’ve readied the jet for take-off.

“Barton, are we doing magic tricks or Shoot To Thrill here?” Bucky kept watch by the rear. The racing vehicles kicked dirt up in the distance.

You didn’t know what those words meant, but you assumed you’ll find out soon enough.

“Ah-” inaudible chatter followed. “- see if I can lose them first… wait…”

“Barton, forget it, just get yourself back in here! I know someone who flies a fighter jet pretty well. She'll take care of them.” He didn't look in your direction, but a tiny smile lived on his lips. Your heart swelled as you looked at his profile.

Silence followed. Clint could have gotten cut off or lost signal again if he swerved deeper into the woods.

“I hate waiting,” he mumbled after a quiet minute. “Remind me to punch Barton in the face later.”

See, everyone hated the waiting. It was your turn to chuckle, but before he could even ask you what was so funny, Clint’s garbled voice returned. “Trashed the bike but problem’s been dealt with.” He paused to catch his breath. “Give me a couple of minutes to get there because I ain’t running.”

You checked the monitors. “We can come to you.”

“No. I’ll go to you. Just in case they have more friends on the way. It’s best if they don’t see the jet.”

Bucky didn’t argue with that. He continued to glare at the horizon. He must have fixed his bun ten times since Clint made contact.

You tiptoed toward him. “About what you said.”

“I say a lot of things,” he responded without taking his eyes off the view.

“You do.” You stepped in front of him with your back to the ramp. When Bucky didn’t move away, you looped your hands around the back of his neck. The tension in his shoulders evaporated. Encouraged by the searching look in his "not that blue eyes," you found your voice. “I love you too, by the way.”

The “aww shucks” grin returned, wider than before, and lit up like a Times Square billboard. Bucky rubbed his face in an attempt to hide it. “Yeah?” His tone was wistful, nose scrunched. He couldn’t quite believe what he just heard.

You nodded and tiptoed.

He received the message instantly, his face swooping to meet yours. Bucky’s skin was on fire and he kissed you frantically, like a time limit had been imposed and he needed as many kisses as you’d give him. “Don’t even know why I waited this long to tell you,” he muttered, his lips covering every inch of exposed skin.

His scent always made you feel slightly drunk; it’s why you’re flustered when he moved around your space. You fell asleep to the feel of his arms around you and the sound of his steady breathing. You woke up inhaling his warm skin tangled in your sheets. Bucky only had to exist to get you feeling some type of way.

Your nails dug into his back when he nuzzled your neck.

He panted against your collarbone. “C’mere.” He hoisted you up, lifting your legs to his waist. His satisfied, commanding smirk greeted you as you reached his eye level. “There she is.” His arms secured you in place. “That’s better.”

You traced a finger across his jaw and saw a twitch. “Marginally.”

“That right?” He grunted before tossing you gently in the air, testing the friction.

You whimpered and your thighs automatically clenched around him. “Bucky.” It was half a plea, half a warning.

“Yeah, thought so.” Bucky’s hungry lips descended on yours again.

Just as you began to think about the long term effects of oxygen deprivation, someone cleared their throat.

“And this is why I said I didn’t want to go on missions with couples.”

Clint’s disgusted voice forced you apart, although Bucky didn’t release you from his arms. He only turned to your teammate, proudly demonstrating the hands cupping your bottom in your current position, and said “You’re late.”

Clint gave both of you an exasperated look. “Yeah, and you’re welcome assholes.”

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