#ARE THESE QUESTIONS RANDOM?????????? WHAT ARE THE FUCKING ODDS I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE THIS

[infizero]

THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING WAY THAT SCAR GOT THIS QUESTION

OUT OF ALL THE FUCKING PEOPLE ON THIS SERVER SCAR GOT THIS QUESTION??????????????????? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKKKKKKKKK ARE YOU KIDDING ME

[messengerhermes]

Intrusive thoughts are not you, they're an asshole that needs to pay rent in your brain.

So a thing I wish was better shown about intrusive thoughts, particularly if you've suffered with them for years is how fucking tedious they can get. So I deal with a thing called Moral Scrupulosity. It's a kind of OCD where my brain fixates on the idea of morality--specifically it measures every action I do against my own personal moral code and decides whether or not I am Good or Bad. Only, the game is rigged and I am destined to always be Bad. Not just regular Bad. Tainted Bad. Evil Bad. Destroy everything you Touch Bad. This is a problem I've had for a very long time, but had no idea what the fuck was going on til like 2 years ago. I just thought this was regular depression. I've now hit a stage where this shit comes and goes in terms of severity, though it's always ambiently kind of around like a fart in an elevator. Right now, I'm in the midst of a Harder Time, where I have pretty steady intrusive thoughts. Intrusive thoughts if you're wondering are: Thoughts that you cannot control, that interrupt whatever the fuck you're doing, to say something that is upsetting or disturbing to you. Because I have moral scrupolisity, my intrusive thoughts revolve around: -Me secretly being a terrible person. -Self-Harm as the solution to me being a terrible person. -A random stream of horribly unpleasant things that are at odds with my own morality (usually something about slurs, something about violence, slut shaming, body shaming, etc.) -Panic about other people observing me, judging me, or attacking me. These thoughts used to really really fuck me up every time they started getting bad. I used to question myself and my goodness, and be afraid that I was a terrible disgusting person. Then I learned that intrusive thoughts are not what you actually believe. They're basically like if your spiritual nemesis moved into your head with a bullhorn. This was life changing. Realizing my intrusive thoughts are a mental illness, not what I actually believe or feel, has let me separate my identity from them. I am not my intrusive thoughts. They're just a fucked up interloper in my head. A TV I can't shut off. That does not get rid of the stress they cause me, but it does lessen it significantly. I no longer go into a tailspin with these episodes. I'm still drained by them, but not nearly as much. Because now I focus on rerouting my attention. My thought patterns now look more like: "Ah, yeah, I gotta order groceries today [INTRUSIVE THOUGHT] yeah yeah, alright Timmy. Do I still have oat milk left, or is that shit going bad?" They don't take up nearly as much space in my life, despite however much space they take up in my head. It's still tiring, still annoying, but I'm no longer wasting my life questioning if I'm Secretly Evil pretending to be kind. If you have intrusive thoughts, I hope this post makes you feel less alone, less ashamed, and less afraid. You're not your intrusive thoughts.

[roscgcld]

GOJOTWINS!AU || greatest gift

request: I have a request for the twin-sided-with-Geto AU if you're up for it (as angsty or as fluffy as you like)? As a last request, Y/N twin asks Satoru to look after his niece/nephew. A child that looks just like Geto but with his sister's eyes.

note: hmmm....I was more concerned between if I want to make it angsty or make it fluffy, since this idea was definitely interesting for me to explore. However! This definitely gave me some creative juices! The entire ‘jjk men as parents’ trope is honestly so cute >< I wish Gege showed more scenes of Geto with his two ‘daughters’ - domestic!Geto sounds so fucking hot 😣😣 but writing this also makes me want to write something like ‘the adventures of uncle gojo and his niece’

warning: spoilers for anime-only fans! proceed with caution

pronouns: she/her

gojotwins!au masterlist

“You need to finish your veggies, Rei-chan. You know the rules.”

The young girl that sat before Gojo pouts softly, crossing her tiny arms over her chest as she turns her puppy eyes up at the older man. Gojo looks down at the pouting girl, his own oceanic blue eyes were shining behind the darkly tinted sunglasses as the young girl - Rei, as she was named - tried to use her puppy eyes to get out form eating all the ‘tiny trees’ that sat on her bear themed child plate. 

From the outside you would assume that Gojo was probably just babysitting the toddler; the man is wearing an odd uniform in Japanese norms, but it is still certain that he is in school. And from the looks of things, he is definitely a young adult - no older than a college student, despite how good looking he was. And they were right to some extend; the young girl, besides the eyes, does not look like Gojo Satoru at all. 

But Gojo and Rei definitely shared a unique relationship than your average ‘babysitter and child’ one. “Come on, bunny - you gotta eat all the greens if you wanna grow big and strong like your daddy.”

At the mention of her father, Rei perked up immediately; yet immediately deflated at the sight of the broccoli that was held out to her by Gojo once more. Rei lets out a soft whine and a huff, yet she reluctantly leaned forward before she ate the broccoli; making a face at the taste of it on her tongue. “Not a fan, huh?”

“The tiny tree taste bad..,” Rei mumbles quietly as she finishes chewing her mouthful of broccoli, pulling another face that has Gojo chuckling quietly as he grabbed a napkin from the napkin dispenser to clean Rei’s chubby cheeks. “I know they do, bunny. But you gotta eat them to make sure you grow strong, right? You wanna be a sorcerer like me one day, don’t you?”

Geto Rei was not your average child; born with Gojo blood flowing through her veins, she is the ‘love child’ of Gojo Y/N and Geto Suguru; Gojo Satoru’s twin sister and her boyfriend. When Geto first went ‘rogue’ and kill the village he was sent to, Y/N had found out that she was pregnant with his child. She was sure it was his, since Y/N and him have been dating for about a year up to this point. There was no denying who the father was. And that terrified her; she was worried that the elders will do something bad to the child that was growing inside of her. 

Even if she is one of the strongest sorcerers of the century, she is still a woman first - and women who are to have kids outside of marriage, and with someone who isn’t approved by the elders of the clan, are just asking for trouble. And whilst she was sure she can take on whatever the elders will put her through, the thought of her unborn child having to deal with the leftover anger from her parents’ actions, to be brought up in a world where others would shun the little bean, was too much to bear. 

So, even with Gojo’s pleas for her to stay, Y/N had packed up and left without a trace for others to find her. Yet Gojo was certain she had upped and left so she can spend her ‘future’ with her boyfriend, even if she knows that their love story will only end in tragedy. So you couldn’t believe Gojo’s shock when he opened the door of his apartment one random night, having been roused from his slumber in the early mornings; only to find a baby sleeping peacefully in blankets placed at his doorstep. 

Pinned to the front of the baby’s blanket was a simple letter addressed to him, and immediately Gojo knew what the content of it was. There was no denying who the young baby, who Gojo found out was a baby girl, was either. Because in the morning, when the little youngster finally opened her eyes, were a pair of his very own Six Eyes staring up at him curiously as a thick and fluffy head of black hair surrounding her.

“Dear God...wait until ma and pa find out about this...”

That is how Gojo found himself today; third year college student quietly coaxing the young toddler to eat her veggies as they waited at a café for another two kids he had ‘adopted’ to get off from preschool. He was honestly questioning everything he is doing with his life right now. “Since you’ve been a good girl...maybe later, when ‘Gumi-nee and ‘Miki-nii come over, we order some ice cream~”

Just the mention of the frozen treat had the little girl perking up in excitement, causing Gojo to laugh as he gently rests a hand on her head; already being able to sense the waves of excitement that is coming from Rei. “But in exchange, you have to finish your veggies,” Gojo continues as he gestures towards the child plate before Rei; which held a few pieces of veggies from the small salad that came with her meal.

So that was how the Fushiguros found the two in the café, having grabbed some lunch whilst they waited for the two to get off from school. Rei, who looked over when the café doors were pushed open, perked up at the sight of the familiar duo walking towards them. Gojo just grinned and picked her out of her babychair before he sets her down on the ground, watching in amusement as Rei ran towards Megumi and Tsumiki on her chubby little feet.

Megumi, who was her target today, paused before he bends down to catch her as she stumbled into him; scowling over at the smirking Gojo who was still seated at the table. “Don’t worry Megumi-kun. I was 100% sure that you were going to catch her~,” Gojo called back teasingly, his grin only widening at Megumi’s annoyance as the young shikigami user made his way towards the table where Gojo was seated at once more. “Turn that frown upside down, Megumi-kun - try to be like Tsumiki-chan more, she’s super cute.”

Megumi just rolled his eyes as he settles down in a free seat, letting Rei cuddle up into the younger male whilst Tsumiki giggles at Gojo; who had reached over to playfully tug at her cheek. Soon though Gojo gestures for the two kids to order what they want for lunch before they go home; a habit of theirs now since Gojo cannot for the life of him cook. 

The one time he tried cooking...well...lets just say the kids have since begged for him to never attempt cooking ever again. 

Hence why, after a brief lunch and a brief visit to the grocery store, the four of them made their way back towards Gojo’s home. He had long since moved out from the apartment that he rented in the beginning, understanding how important it is for Megumi and Tsumiki to have their own private spaces to retire to after a long they. Because after all that they’ve been through and are going to be going through in the future as people touched by the jujutsu world, they are still growing kids first. So Gojo had invested in a nice home close that is close to the college, yet not too far away from the city where the kids might feel cut off from their friends on the outside. 

“Alright, time to get you into the shower,” Gojo grins at a giggling Rei, who he had set in her baby seat as he puts away the groceries; Tsumiki had offered to make some katsudon for everyone for dinner tonight. Hence the brief stop at the grocery store. Since it was still little early into the afternoon, the two Fushiguro children retired in their rooms to unwind and catch up with homework before preparing for diner. So for now, Gojo and Rei were alone once more. “Gotta make sure you’re cleaned up before your nap~”

Rei just giggles and smiles over at the older man, reaching her arms up so the man can carefully picked her up as he made his way towards his bedroom. It was a normal routine for him to give Rei a shower after coming home from the outside, worried that she was going to be carrying dirt and germs into her bed before she is laid down for her nap. So Gojo carefully filled the baby tub he set out inside his shower stall before he carefully filled it with warm water and bubbles; making sure the water was warm enough before he carefully strips Rei and sets her in the warm bath. 

Many people have questioned him before as to why he was taking care of her like she was his own child. Even though she is her niece, her parents are Curse Users; they defected from the jujutsu world in order to live in a life of crime. Or more so Y/N leaving behind her family and friends for something as feeble as her ‘love’ for Geto Suguru. Many people call her delusional, stupid, naïve - no one can picture just what was it that made her choose between the life on the run with Geto, for the luxurious life that the Gojo estate has, and still would, provide to her. Even after Rei was born.

However, to Gojo, he just knew she saw it differently. 

If there was one person who he can rely on completely, without having to fear of judgement, it was definitely Y/N. She was his twin sister, someone who ‘cursed’ with the same power as he was, and knows all the struggles and stress that comes with being ‘the strongest’. When she had found out she was pregnant, she was terrified - running into his room in the middle of the night with the positive pregnancy test in hand. She was scared shitless with the entire idea that she was going to be a teen mum alone.

And no matter how much Gojo had tried to reassure her that if Geto was here, he would be ecstatic with the idea that he was going to be a father, Y/N was inconsolable. She was terrified at the idea that not only would the baby will not have a father, they might even have to suffer through the stigma of having a parent that was a murderer in their world. Y/N was also going through it as well; it was clear as day that Geto was the last thing that was truly keeping Y/N sane. Although Gojo and her had a special bond, it was like Geto was that extra support that made sure both of the Gojo siblings were still staying strong. 

Maybe it was the stress of the idea that she was going to be called out by the elders of the clan, or her parents might be disappointed in her, or maybe the idea that she was going to be a teen parent itself officially cracked her. Gojo, to this day, isn’t 100% sure as to why Y/N chose to do what she did; chose to stay with Geto even though she knows that it will bring more stigma onto her daughter after she was born. 

At one point even Gojo had admitted to himself that she was naïve and selfish for choosing what she did instead of facing the brief music that will come from the adults in her life.

But as he playfully makes animal noises at a giggling Rei, Gojo hopes that Y/N rest easy knowing how many people loves Rei. How Shoko, Mei Mei, and even Utahime had essentially dubbed themselves as Rei’s godmothers and spoil her even more than he does; and that is saying a lot. Sure, the elders were not as welcoming to Rei, even more so because she was not carry the Gojo name on top of the fact that her parents were not married when they had her, were definitely not helping her case.

However, Rei was special. She was born her with her mother and uncle’s Six Eyes; and it was because of this that the elders have yet to officially cut Rei off from her surviving biological family. 

Whilst he was thinking back about everything, Gojo’s body went on autopilot as he bathe, dried, and dressed Rei like usual. He kept her occupied to the best of his abilities, but from the trip they had earlier today plus the grocery store trip, Rei was already nodding off when Gojo was blow drying her soft black hair. This caused him to smile as he carefully gathered the little girl in his arms, letting her curl up against his chest as he made his way towards his messy study desk. 

Even if he is a sorcerer and taking care of 3 young kids, he still needs to do mundane things like homework before he can fully graduate from Jujutsu Tech. And as much as he wants to just cuddle Rei and sleep as well - he’s been putting off this essay for about 3 days now. And its due date is tomorrow; so he has to get cracking on this essay if he wants to be eligible for the final exam this year.

“I wish I can live as carefree as you do, Rei-chan,” Gojo mumbles quietly to the young girl in his arms, glancing down at her sleeping features as she rests her ear above his heart. It was quite jarring honestly, since the little girl looked like one of his best friends, Geto Suguru. A man who he sometimes wish late into the night that he had made a better effort into reaching out to when they are at their lowest.

Gojo knew that the death of Riko had effected all of them in their own ways; and although Gojo had asked Geto a few times if he was alright, he just wished he tried harder. Maybe if he wasn’t so full of himself, that he tried to spot more of the chances in Geto’s behaviour - just maybe, he might still be here right now. He would be the one who witnessed Rei saying her first words (it was ‘dog’ because of Megumi’s Divine Dogs that he lets out at home), to her standing up on her own for the first time, to her first steps. 

Gojo felt guilty for being the one to witness all of her firsts when her parents should be the one to do that.

“I hope you know just how much your parents love you, bunny,” Gojo mumbles quietly to the sleeping toddler in his arms as he cuddles her closer, his somber eyes watching her tiny back as it rose and fell with each one of her deep breaths. “I know you don’t really understand things now, but I hope you do not grow up resenting your parents for giving you away before you even have a chance to know them. Your mother is a brave woman; she knew what she had to do in order to ensure that you’d get to live a fair and comfortable life.”

Only silence greeted Gojo after his soft admission, yet all that did was make Gojo let out a brief chuckle through his nose. “She may call me a dumbass, but she trusted me enough to know that there was no way I am going to let you fend for yourself in this cruel world,” He hums as he reaches up to stroke her chubby cheek ever so slightly, a soft and fond smile tugging against the corner of his lips at how Rei just cuddled closer to him in her sleep. 

“Because at the end of the day, you’re the greatest gift that has ever been gifted to all of us.”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform.

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 10

AO3

Prev

Marinette glances around the silent table, willing Jason to say something. Or do something. Or even Dick. She needed one of them to start a conversation, because Adrien hated awkward silences. And if this silence went on much longer, he was definitely going to say something and then she would regret it. Horribly. 

“These rolls are purr-fect.” Adrien says, out of nowhere. Marinette lets out a groan, of course he’d skip straight ahead to the cat puns. Of course that’s where his freaking mind was tonight. 

“Aren’t they? I’d say Alfred’s cooking is pretty claw-some, myself.” Dick speaks up, grinning at Adrien. Marinette looks at him, wide eyed. 

“That’s it. I’ll find a new trapeze partner and a new best friend. Both of you are out of my life.” She deadpans, ignoring Adrien’s offended gasp. 

“But Bugaboo, who else would give you a hand with your crazy schemes?” Adrien asks, and Marinette turns to him, narrowing her eyes. 

“I swear to god if you take your arm off right now you will never find it again.” She threatens, pointing her fork at him from across the table. 

“But Mari, that joke needs the arm. It doesn’t work without it.” He pouts, she rolls her eyes and turns to Damian. 

“I apologize for him. He thinks he’s funny.” She says, turning her glance back at Adrien. “He’s wrong.” 

“Tt. I’m unbothered by his sense of humor. I have lived with Grayson for eight years. His humor is nothing compared to those horrors.” Damian quips, and Marinette swears his lips almost quirk into a smile. She snorts. 

“Guess I made the right choice in throwing Dick to the curb, huh?” She teases, ignoring Dick’s gasp and Adrien’s reassurance to the man. Honestly, who was the adult here? 

“It was for the best, Dupain-Cheng.” Damian says and Marinette winces slightly. The only person who called her by her last name (in regular conversation, anyway) was Chloe. And while the girl had long since given up full on bullying her, she still wasn’t Marinette’s best friend in the world. 

“You can call me Marinette, my last name is kind of a mouthful.” She says, trying to be nonchalant about it. She’d heard him refer to everyone else as their last name the entire evening. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but him calling her Dupain-Cheng was going to make her uncomfortable in the long run. 

“Very well.” He says, and though he doesn’t say her name, she still counts it as a win. A throat clearing catches her attention and she glances at Jason who was glaring at Damian. 

“What’s up, Jay?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Nothing Pixie Pop. Just thinking about the time you kicked the ass of that would be mugger.” He says, and Marinette frowns. Mugger? “You know, the one that was obsessed with you?” He clarifies, and she understands. Copycat had been reakumatized during Jason’s stay in Paris. And he had wanted nothing more than a date with Ladybug. Though, she couldn’t understand why he was bringing it up now. 

“I am so lost.” She admits, shaking her head at her pseudo-brother. He grins. 

“That’s fine, just sharing that you can kick ass with the table. In case someone wants to try something.” He says pointedly. Oh. He definitely caught the heart eyes she sent Damian back in the gym. Can he blame her, though? Her weakness was green eyes. And Damian’s were the greenest. 

“I did walk in on you hogtied, Todd. I assumed she was a reputable fighter after that.” Damian says, and Marinette blushes furiously. 

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Mr. Wayne asks, his vapid (and fake) smile replaced with a faux look of bewilderment. She briefly wondered if it was exhausting, putting on a constant act, until she remembered how tired she was throughout collège, before she started lycée and decided she didn’t really care. Yeah, acting constantly was tiring. But why did he do it? Jason nudges her lightly and she blinks, focusing back on the conversation. 

“Oh, Jason and I sparred. He apparently had forgotten that I use my surroundings to my advantage and that Adrien is always on my side.” She explains, shooting Jason a smug smile. Jason huffs. 

“Not always.” He says, and Marinette raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and giving him a challenging look. 

“Oh really? Name one time that Adrien took your side instead of mine.” She challenges. She grins as Jason starts to think, obviously wracking his brain. 

“Earlier today!” Adrien pipes up, and she immediately turns to him, glaring. 

“What?” She asks, confused. What had- oh. Of fucking course. “That doesn’t count!” She protests, narrowing her eyes. 

“Why not?” Adrien asks, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. She scoffs. 

“Because it wasn’t a fight or argument or anything. It was a joke.” She says. 

“Are you talking about the adoption shit, cause that was definitely not a joke. All the kids B adopts definitely have trauma and certain features.” Jason cuts in, and Marinette sighs. Of course he would clue in. 

“But- no. No. That was a fluke. A glitch in the matrix, obviously. You literally cannot name a singular other time. And technically, ya big jerk, you didn’t even name this time. Adrien did.” Marinette points out, glaring at Jason. 

“I’m sorry, how long have you three known each other?” Mr. Wayne cuts in again, and this time- this time- she sees that some of the confusion on his face is real. But it looks odd, like he wasn’t used to expressing a real emotion. She really needed to remind herself to talk to Jason about this later. She didn’t necessarily want to make it a habit to stick billionaire fathers with asshole tendencies in jail, but she would. She’d do it for her boys. Any day of the week. She hums in thought, adding up the time. The anniversary of Gabriel’s defeat had been a few weeks ago, which meant-

“We’ve known Jason for just over a year.” She says, before glancing at Adrien and grinning. “But I’ve been stuck with this goof for four years.”

“You know you love me.” Adrien says with a wide grin. She rolls her eyes. 

“How exactly did you meet Jason?” Mr. Wayne asks, and she kind of wants to throw her fork at him. What was it, interrogate the random kids at dinner night? Though, to be fair, they were random kids in his house. But she refused to like the man until she’d talked to Jason about the potential assholeish tendencies. 

“He helped me learn some self defence after I got caught up in an akuma attack.” Marinette lies smoothly. Well, it was technically a half truth. But the Waynes didn’t need to know that she was always caught up in akuma attacks. 

“Akuma?” Mr. Wayne asks, and Marinette glances at Jason with a frown. Had he not told his father about anything? Not even the basics? 

“Wait, is that what the thing that flooded Paris is called?” Dick asks suddenly and Marinette nearly flinches from the memory. That was one of the akumas that still gave her nightmares. One of the ones that was burned in the back of her eyelids when all she wanted was to sleep. And not think about bloated corpses and dead classmates for one goddamn minute. She lets out a steadying breath, glancing at Jason whose face had changed from annoyance to concern. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She could talk about akumas. It was the past. Sure, she had refused all of the therapy options her parents gave her and Adrien, but she didn’t need it. She was fine. 

“Yeah. Technically, her akumatized name was Siren. But, the general term for those attacks was ‘akuma’.” She says, gripping her fork a little tighter than necessary, grounding herself with Tikki’s reassuring nudges from inside her purse. 

“There were more?” Dick asks, his eyes wide. Marinette glances at Jason and raises an eyebrow. Why had he not said anything? He’d been there for an entire month of Hawkmoth’s reign. He’d seen dozens of akuma attacks. Jason shrugs. Thank Jay. Super helpful. 

“When you get down to it, there were probably hundreds if not thousands more. Some people, like Siren, were turned into the same akuma several times. Some people became a different akuma when they were akumatized again. I think it just depended on the person or their issue.” Marinette explains, hating how dry her mouth felt all of a sudden. She could talk about this. She could. So why was everything a little too bright? Why was the sound of forks against plates a little too loud? 

“Did the Justice League stop it?” Damian asks, though by his tone, he seems to already know the answer. Odd. 

“No, the local heroes did. Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Marinette says, ignoring the constricting feeling in her chest. 

“Why-” Mr. Wayne starts, but Jason clears his throat. Everyone glances at him, and Marinette is unsurprised to see the flicker of anger in his eyes. Especially after she glances at Adrien and sees how pale he’s gotten. She kicks him lightly under the table to get his attention, frowning at him in a silent question. He nods, slightly. She purses her lips, not believing for a second that he was actually okay. But they could talk later. Away from eager ears. 

“I’m sure you remember what Dick said about my phone call from when I first arrived in Paris. Marinette and Adrien dealt with attacks like that interrupting their day to day lives from thirteen to sixteen. I get that you’re not the best at knowing when to drop the damn topic, but I really think you should drop the damn topic.” Jason says, and though he’s smiling, Marinette can see the danger behind it. The warning. ‘Drop it, or I’ll make you’. 

“My apologies, it was just so interesting.” Mr. Wayne says and this time Marinette winces at the falseness in his voice. And the smile on his face. God, this man could not have lasted a day in Hawkmoth’s Paris. 

---

Finally, finally, dinner was over. After the akuma talk ceased, it was extremely awkward. Mr. Wayne looked like he would rather be anywhere else. And Marinette couldn’t blame him, wanting nothing more than to get back to her hotel room and away from the constant lack of real emotion on the eldest Wayne’s face. It was tiresome, just watching him. 

“Thanks again, for having us.” Marinette says, mostly directing her comment to Dick and Alfred. Alfred just nods. 

“Of course! Come back any time. Really soon, actually, so we can work more on the trapeze. I can’t lose my new trapeze buddy.” Dick says with a wide smile. Marinette holds back a sigh, nodding instead. She liked Dick, she did. But she’d definitely have to make sure that Mr. Wayne wouldn’t be around. She still wasn’t sure what to think of him. 

“You should also spar with me, some time.” Damian speaks up and Marinette blinks in surprise. 

“Spar. With...you?” She says, tilting her head in confusion. That came out of nowhere. 

“Yes. You took down Todd easily, and I am far superior. You would actually have a challenge if we sparred.” He says. She smirks, and suddenly, with a burst of confidence she didn’t know she had, says:

“Sure thing, Pretty boy.” Before turning and walking straight out the door. The second she’s outside, she drops her head into her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She mumbles under her breath. 

“Pretty boy?” Adrien says with a smirk, she glares at him and moves down the front steps. 

“Fuck you.” She says, no real venom in her voice. The boy knew how she got around crushes. He’d seen it firsthand. With him. With Luka. With Kagami. With the girl with bright green eyes who worked at the coffee shop across the street from the bakery. She was an absolute disaster. He was worse, but still. He wasn’t the one with the quickly developing crush on the youngest Wayne. 

“Pretty boy?” Jason asks, a scowl on his face as he catches up to the two. 

“Not another word, Jason.” She scowls at him, crossing her arms defiantly. He holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Sure.” He says. Her mind rushes suddenly to her previous thought. Youngest Wayne. Damian Wayne. Hadn’t Lila- she snorts, before erupting into uncontrollable laughter, ignoring the worried looks from Adrien. 

“I- oh my god, Jay.” She manages to say, straightening up and following Jason to the car he was borrowing to drive them back to the hotel.

“I’m completely lost.” He says.

“Join the club.” Adrien adds, and Marinette just laughs again. 

“Your little brother is Damian Wayne.” She says, as if it should be obvious. Jason doesn’t get it, and neither does Adrien. But after a moment-

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious!” Adrien cries, letting out a chuckle. Jason huffs as the trio get into the car. 

“Care to share with the class?” He asks, and Marinette snorts. 

“Absolutely not, I dislike the majority of those people.” She says, referring to the group who was hopefully already in their rooms and not in the lobby of the hotel. “Now it’s funny that your brother is Damian Wayne because Lila made us come to Gotham instead of New York and London, because she’s dating him.” She explains and Jason scoffs. 

“Yeah right.” 

“Obviously she’s not actually dating him, Jay. But it’s freaking hilarious that she thinks she’s gonna get away with it. He definitely goes to Gotham Academy, and people are definitely going to call her out.” She says, not even trying to hide the absolute glee she’s feeling. If there was ever a time for all of Lila’s lies to come crashing down around her, now would be good. When she can’t just run away and claim Marinette set it up. If people Marinette didn’t even know called Lila out, well, that would be irrefutable evidence, right? 

“Her regime is gonna topple and I’m gonna take you guys out for ice cream to celebrate.” Jason declares and Marinette laughs again. She was so against the idea of Gotham originally, but now, with Jason at their sides again, she’d decided that it wasn’t so bad. Suddenly remembering what had been on her mind most of the night, she turns to Jason. 

“Jay, I have a serious question. And I know it’s a little hard to talk about but just know that we’re here for you to support you, and that we’ll figure out a way to make sure you and your brothers are safe and-” 

“Whoa, Pix, calm down kiddo. You’re rambling again.” He says gently, furrowing his eyebrows. He pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to put his full attention on the two. “What’s bothering you?” He asks. 

“Is Mr. Wayne abusive?” She asks and Jason blinks. “I saw how hesitant you were to call him your father, and you were tense around him a lot of the night. And I don’t think the man had one legitimate expression all night. He was acting the whole time.” Marinette says, looking at him worriedly. “Look, Jay, I don’t necessarily want to make a habit of putting billionaires in jail, but I’d do it for you.” 

“Is he- you would-” Jason stops and lets out a breath, obviously trying to compose himself. “No, kiddo, he’s not.” He finally says. Marinette frowns. 

“Really?” She asks, and he sighs. 

“Yeah, look. Our relationship has been...rough, for a couple years. We had a sort of falling out when I was a teenager and I stopped talking to him for several years. We reconnected a while ago, but it’s still rocky at times. I don’t usually call him dad or father or anything. He’s just Bruce, or B, to me.” Jason explains and Marinette nods, letting out a small sigh of relief. 

“I was worried, Jay.” She admits, and Jason grins at her before pulling away from the curb again. 

“I didn’t even catch on.” Adrien says with a frown. Marinette rolls her eyes, smiling at him with fondness. 

“Course you didn’t Kitty. Reading people isn’t really your strong suit.” She says with a small smile. He huffs, but nods in agreement. 

“True.” He says and Marinette laughs. She could officially take Bruce Wayne off her ‘threat to be dealt with immediately’ list and move him to ‘possible future annoyance’ list. A big improvement for the man, and it would mean she wouldn’t be as tense around him the next time she saw him.

Next

Tag list: @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z @daminette-56

[salsdemise]

Can I request a Sally face x reader fic? Possibly a confession and first kiss an da party or something like that, thank you!

Hey anon, sorry if this is bad, I'm assuming you meant sal, and if not just lmk and I'll re-write this for another character if you want.

Warnings: Underage drinking, underaged smoking, parties, y/n used in place of your name, really awkward with the confession part? idk how to write those

word count: 1479

other: gender neutral terms used, sal's speech is in blue bc sometimes its unclear whos talking bc i didn't know what to put between the words spoken lol playlist listened to while writing: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5SMv6Go27KIcbfL07wkQ4m

This party wasn’t where you wanted to be right now. Hell, you’d rather be at school, getting pushed around by the kids in the hall right now. Anywhere was better than this loud, flashy,party filled with the smell of cigs, weed, alcohol and sex wafting off of every teen you passed.

Why you had come to this party in the first place had slipped your mind, as now you were more focused on not getting backed into a corner with a potted plant by a group of your peers. Maybe it was because your friend Larry wouldn’t shut up about how fun it was going to be, maybe it was because you would have felt bad saying no, or maybe it was because you certainly weren’t going to pass up on an opportunity to potentially hang out with Sal Fisher, your long time crush and close friend.

Holding your now empty red cup, you navigated your way through the crowd of drunken and dancing teens, most who were nice and giggly as you passed, slurring apologies at you if they bumped you.

While you weren’t all sober yourself, you had enough remaining cognitive ability to form full thoughts, and the only one on your mind was finding one of two people; Sal or Larry. You had no doubt Larry was off smoking with gods know who, so that left one option, and if your brain wasn’t mistaking you, you had seen the electric-bluenette near the door to the backyard in the kitchen not too long ago. So that’s where you set your sights.

When you arrived at the kitchen, you were happy to know that you were indeed correct on where you had last seen Sal, just outside on the patio, sitting hunched over a cup, the bottom straps of his prosthetic undone and dangling. Murmuring a few ‘excuse me’s at the teens you passed on the way, you made your way out to the back, opening and exiting the door and catching the bluenette’s attention. Seating yourself next to him, you said nothing, not sure of what to say.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show. Lar said you were coming, but I thought he was bluffing again,” Sal spoke, sipping on his drink.

You laughed at this, “yea, no, he actually convinced me to come. Not sure how, but he did. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see you here either. You always talk about how much you hate parties, especially ones that have inebriating drinks,” you set your cup down next to you, and a small breeze knocked it over as soon as your hand left it.

“I don’t, hate em. Managed to get someone to get me something non-alcoholic, though. What have you had to drink?” He motioned to your, now rolling, red cup to emphasize.

“Oh, nothing too strong. They had a punch bowl in there so I took some of that,” thinking back to it as you spoke, it was odd the hosts of this party put a punch bowl out at a party with no need for it. However, you and Sal both seemingly shrugged it off and continued talking.

Conversation between the two of you had always come so naturally, switching between topics and tones, talking about people, your home state, his home state, and the likes.

“Man, I cannot believe he did that! It was like, super awkward between us for a week,“ you laughed, finishing a story about how Larry had tried to ask you out when high. Luckily the guy wasn’t too upset and took no for an answer.

“Hey, y/n, about asking people out...have you ever done it?” Sal questioned, messing with his sweater sleeves now that his drink was gone and his cup had also flown off.

“Oh, uh, not like, here at Nockfell, but in the past I asked a guy in my grade to go to a valentine’s day dance with me. Why?” you responded, tilting your head at him.

“I want to ask this person out, but I’m not sure how.”

“Oh. Well, what do they like? How long have you known them? And how close are you two? You can’t just ask out a random person you barely know, it won’t go well.”

“Well, they like a lot so it’s...kinda hard to put into words. I’ve known them for years now, and I’d like to say we’re pretty close.”

Thinking, you went quiet. As much as it hurt you to know your crush liked someone else, you were going to help him as best you could.

“Well, I’d give them a note, personally. I’d probably piss myself if I tried to tell them upfront. But it depends on how you wanna do it.”

Sal quietly thinks for a few seconds before standing up and fixing his mask, “Thanks for your help dude. We should get going, I’ll go find Larry and we can get out of here.”

You nod, standing and following Sal back into the house, heading for the front door while Sal went off to find Larry. With your mutual friend acquired, you all left for home, depositing Larry at his place and heading to your own beds, tired now that the social buzz had worn off.

Over the next week, you and Sal talked less and less, notes popped up in your locker, and small things like patches, stickers, pins and snacks appeared with them. You were confused to say the least. You loved everything this admirer gave you, and the notes were adorable, even if they were typed and printed rather than hand written, but you wondered why Sal had stopped talking to you as often as he did.

As the weeks progressed, you had started to like the secret admirer that was leaving you small gifts and notes reminding you how much they liked you. But the most recent note, which you had gotten on a sunny and warm Wednesday, really caught your attention. This time, it was handwritten in blue pen ink, the handwriting surprisingly neat, completely eliminating who you thought it was.

The note read: “y/n, meet me in the courtyard during lunch/break time. -<3”, and not wanting to disappoint, you waited with an uneasy shake until lunch came around where you went straight to the courtyard. Seeing no one, you sat on the ground by a tree to wait until your secret admirer got there.

10 minutes later, the heavy doors opened and closed with a thud, catching your attention and causing you to look up where you saw Sal, mask in hands, and looking down.

“Sal? Are you the one that wanted to meet me here?” You were..puzzled to say the least. Sal had hardly talked to you in weeks, and you thought he liked someone else like Ash, but it seems you were mistaken.

“Uh, yea, I am. I know you’re..probably upset at me for not talking to you in the past few weeks, but I didn’t want to say something stupid too soon. I hope you’re not too mad..”

“Sal, I’m not mad. I thought you were busy trying to get your mystery person to like you..and I guess I was right, but I didn’t think it’d be me..”

“Who else would it have been? You and I are as close as Larry and I are, we like the same things and I’ve known you since you got here. Hell, I’ve been pining over you for years now, but last year when Lar told me he was gonna try and shoot his shot, I tried to get myself to like Ash so I wouldn’t feel like shit if you said yes.”

“Oh, Sal. I thought it was Ash, you talk so much about her sometimes, I thought you actually liked her.”

“Oh, no, I don’t. She helped me with this, actually. Which reminds me, if its not obvious already, I really fucking like you. Like, you make me feel happy and just thinking about you makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.”

Smiling at his words you stood to go over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders so he would look up at you, “I like you too, Sal. Like, a lot. I have for a while, and when you asked how to ask someone out,I..it hurt a little bit.”

Saying nothing at your words, Sal moved forward and wrapped you in a hug, his mask landing in the grass behind you two. Before you could return the hug, Sal backed up and his hands grabbed your face pulling you in for a kiss. Giving you time to react this time, you kissed back, your hands placing themselves over his.

Now, sitting at a college party with your boyfriend, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe parties aren’t so bad after all.’

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[astridthevalkyrie]

summer rain: chapter 3

Your days in the Training Corp aren’t too out of the ordinary. You make friends, you train hard, and you eat dinner every day.

Oh, and you’re also hellbent on getting revenge against Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

Chapter 2, Chapter 4

You don’t keep your promise to yourself. Very unwillingly, you let Lieutenant Levi catch out after hours again, a few months later, in very different circumstances.

The day goes pretty well before the incident, actually. Nothing extraordinary or painful happens, and you even get Grumman to tell you in that gruff voice of his that you have good form. A good day deserves a good night, a nice farewell. It’s the end of the week, and since tomorrow is everyone’s day off anyways, you decide you want to have a little fun.

The usual suspects want no part in it. Millie doesn’t support sneaking out of the base, Ricky is too busy studying, and Stephen cannot stay awake past dinnertime and is always out like a light. Traitors, the lot of them. There’s absolutely no fun in sneaking out alone, so you start asking around. Surely there must be someone who feels as cooped up as you do.

And that’s how you find yourself in a bar with Traute and Nifa.

It’s an odd combination, you know that much. Nifa is bubbly, bright, and speaks very loudly when she gets drunk. Traute, on the other hand, has a glare that turns out to be helpful to ward off any amorous intruders, but when directed at you, it can be scary. She doesn’t drink at all, giving you a hard stare when you ask her if she wants anything. You only have a single glass yourself before getting up to do what you really came here for - dance.

You start off slow, the alcohol leaving your brain just a bit fuzzy after not drinking for such a long time. The musicians playing on the stage at the side sweeten everyone’s ears with a gradual but energetic melody. You grab a random man’s arm, swinging into step with him. He complies with a hearty chuckle, and now you have a dance partner. In turn, he grabs his friend, who grabs theirs.

Claps and cheers fill the air. You feel the heavy steps under you as your arms flail and you spin, right in the center of it all and enjoying every last second of it. Your hair bounces around you, falling into your face. Someone grabs your hand and tugs you into a waltz. Eventually, dancing turns to jumping, but you don’t care, you live for every second of this. The dancing, the music, the crowd, the sinful act of sneaking out and getting so handsy with everyone. The music is only egging you on.

Your hands are in the air, twirling for all you’re worth. The crowd is cheering you on, the melody is reaching its peak, the room is spinning, and you raise a leg up to finish with a grand pirouette and a wide grin.

The song finishes and you stop to a resounding wave of applause, your arms still thrown in the air.

Right in front of you is Lieutenant Levi, and he does not share the crowd’s enthusiasm.

You stay exactly in the position you are, hands frozen as though he’s caught you. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation, or maybe it’s that he somehow went to the same seedy bar you did and caught you dancing and is now listening to your admirers enthusiastically shouting for an encore as the next song starts playing. Whatever the reason is, you start laughing.

He looks funny, with his bored, fed up expression. Why does he always look like that?

Sighing at your disorderly conduct, he beckons you forward with one finger. Feeling particularly pleasant, you follow him out of the crowd, pausing only to bow with a flourish to anyone who looks at you. Apparently, Lieutenant Levi does not appreciate your desire to please the crowd, because he grabs your arm and shoves you out of the bar. You giggle, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

“Who did you come here with?” he asks, and you waggle a finger.

“I’m not telling.”

“It’s your little quartet, isn’t it?”

“I’m not telling,” you repeat, taking a few steps back from him. You have no desire to get enthralled in him once again. The last time replays in your mind enough times as it is.

The lieutenant gives you a hard look. You try your best to match it, but you end up breaking out into giggles again, the giddy feeling too good to leave you so soon. He sighs.

“You’re drunk.”

“Ooh, so clever.” You smirk, completely unbothered. He doesn’t look too mad, and you’re not worried about Traute or Nifa either. They’ll find their way back. And now you have an escort! It��s truly a special night. “I’m not, actually. I’m no lightweight. I just feel good.”

“That won’t last long,” he promises, “you just ruined my plans. Instead of having a drink, I get to babysit you. So rest assured I’m going to make your life hell, (L/N).”

Your voice unwittingly comes out in a whine. “But you already do that.”

He sighs that sigh again, placing a hand on the top of your head to spin you around and push you in the direction of the base. You laugh loudly, finding his exasperation hilarious until he gives your temple a painful flick.

“Ow!”

“Fucking brat.”

“Ooh, you’re infuriating.” The good feeling is still there, but it’s a little more bitter. He just has that natural effect on your emotions. “You make me so mad.”

“Likewise,” he responds dryly.

The lack of engagement in his voice only serves to make you more sour. For a few minutes, you remain quiet, the two of you walking side by side. More than once, his knuckles brush against yours, but you pay no attention to the contact. You’re simmering in quiet annoyance, months of being thrown around, embarrassed and disrespected all coming to a head now. The liquid courage you consumed earlier doesn’t help either.

“Was it ugly?” aren’t exactly the words you wanted to say, but they’re the ones that come out.

“Hm?”

You look at him, an uncharacteristically vulnerable look displayed on your features. “My smile. Was it so ugly that you just couldn’t stand it?”

“What are you talking about?” He’s raising a brow at you, the breeze playing with his collar a bit. You realize this is the first time you’ve seen him out of uniform, in only a simple white buttoned shirt. He looks nice.

“The day we met. The first day of training. That day.” You wave a hand to make him understand. “You didn’t like my smile, so you...did what you did. And then you did it again later. That was mean.” There’s a pout on your face now, as you remember all his past transgressions. “It must have been an ugly smile if it made you act like this.”

“What are you trying to say?” Levi looks irritated. “Spit it out, (L/N).”

So you do.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and yet he doesn’t halt. He merely scans your questioning face, your downtrodden expression and the downward direction of your lips. You’re not trying to be difficult this time, you’re really not. You just think that you have a right to know just what you did to make him constantly come after you. Maybe once you hear it, your ridiculous attraction to him will stop.

“What makes you think I hate you?” he replies, genuinely, honestly, and your heart clenches. Before you can reply, he goes on, “I wouldn’t be training you if I hated you. Wouldn’t put up with your annoying ass presence all the time.”

Not sure what to do with such a backhanded compliment, you press on. “So what, you like me? I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies.”

“You would hate to see it,” Levi hums in agreement, and leaves it at that. There’s no confirmation as to whether or not he likes you, which you take to mean he merely tolerates you enough. That does nothing for your feelings. Oh Maria, you can’t actually believe you’re entertaining the idea of having feelings for him in the first place. There’s an attraction there, sure, in a if-he-asked-you-to-sleep-with-him-you-would-probably-say-yes kind of way. You can appreciate his features, you can admit that he’s ridiculously attractive (for a midget). But it doesn’t go deeper than that, and you know now that it doesn’t go deeper for him either. You’re a thorn in his side, who he begrudgingly agrees to train out of some sense of duty. That’s fine. Except…

Except your fascination with his eyes doesn’t just stem from you good you think they’d look above you. It’s been the same thing since day one - there’s just something about him you crave. His closeness, his attention. He’s interested you since the beginning, and you just don’t know why. It looks like you won’t ever find out.

“Hey.” Levi flicks your forehead again, ignoring the glare you throw his way. “You’re thinking too loudly. Cut it out.”

You cut it out.

Not even a whole minute later, he asks, “What were you thinking about?”

He just can’t make up his mind, can he? What an adorable little sadist.

For maybe the first time since you arrived here, you think carefully about your words before speaking. “I was thinking about something that happened once back home.” When he doesn’t say anything, only raises a brow, you continue, “Millie and I went out this one time, with this guy I liked but was too shy to tell. It was pretty late, and I was really tired, so we got separated somehow. I ended up in front of this large mansion. Large, large. Like, I grew up there as one of the richest girls on the block and I still thought it was huge -”

“Get to the point,” Levi grumbles, and you smirk at his impatience. You really do think he should hear this one.

“I knocked on the door, and these two women opened it. I told them what happened, and they agreed to let me stay the night. So I ate dinner with them and then -”

The lieutenant just isn’t content with letting you tell your story without interrupting. “You actually went in? That’s so fucking stupid. Not to mention dangerous. Why didn’t you just try to go home?”

“I’m scared of walking alone at night.” You wave your hand dismissively and hurry on before he can chide you further about how unsafe it is to trust strangers. “So anyway, I went to sleep in one of their spare rooms, but in the middle of the night...I heard something. A scratching sound. It freaked me out.”

He scoffs. “I would guess you got murdered after that, but since you’re here, I guess we weren’t so lucky.”

You look at him crossly. “Ha-ha. No, I made it through the night. I asked them about it the next morning -”

“And then they killed you.”

“No. They told me they’d love to tell me, but they couldn’t, because I wasn’t part of their secret society that they had built the mansion for. So I left, but a month later, I ended up getting lost there again.”

“You’re fucking useless.”

“Shut up.” You’re not sure where you get the gall to tell him that. “I stayed the night again, I heard the scratching again, and I asked again. But they said the same thing. So I said, screw it, I really want to know, I’ll join the secret society. They tell me that first I need to tell them how many houses there are in Stohess. It doesn’t have to be exact, but it has to be close.”

Levi’s brows are furrowed in concentration. He shakes his head with a frown, clearly running it over in his head. “I can’t see how you could figure something like that out. It would take you ages to walk through every single street and count all of them. Why would they need to know that anyways?”

You shrug. “Haven’t the faintest clue. But remember I said there was that guy I liked? His father is actually a mathematician, and the man’s a chip off the old block. So I go to him, and he helps me out. Approximates the shit out of it. I thank him with a kiss and then go to the mansion, and give them my final answer.” You lick your lower lip, basking in how intently Levi was listening to your story. “They said I was close enough and that they could finally tell me where the sound was coming from. They lead me to a gold door, and give me a gold key. Actual gold, Lieutenant.”

“Fascinating,” he mutters sarcastically.

“It is,” you agree, humming, “I open the door, but then there’s another door. This time it’s silver.”

There’s deep confusion in those grey eyes. Something is very thrilling about having him hang on to your every word.

“They hand me a silver key, and I open the silver door, and then there’s a bronze door. At this point I’m really irritated, but they give me a bronze key and promise that this is the last door. So I put it in, unlock it, and open the door. And then I finally see it.”

You’ve arrived at the base. Snapping your heels together, you press your fist to your chest and salute. “Thanks for walking me back, Lieutenant. See you tomorrow.”

“What?” His eyes narrow. “Finish the story, (L/N). What was making the sound?”

You gasp in mock surprise, scandalized. “I can’t tell you, you’re not part of the secret society.”

If only you could capture his face in this very moment. It’s as though he goes through all the stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance all in one second. His mouth falls open in surprise, and you burst out laughing, pointing at him gleefully.

“Ooh, I got you so good!”

Levi gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen, which only serves to make you guffaw even louder. You grin broadly - it feels so amazing to one-up him, even if it’s in this brief, stupid exchange. He can take this as your revenge for flustering you in the hallway a few months ago. Just who did this man think he was playing with? You are the product of the bitches and bastards of the fakest place in the world, so yeah, you can tell a story, and you can act your heart out. In fact, what were you doing here in the military? You should’ve joined a traveling theatre group, now that would have put your many talents to good use.

“Your sense of humor is shitty,” the lieutenant informs you flatly. Oh, you beg to disagree. “Laughing at your own jokes doesn’t make them good. So it was all fake, then?”

You do your best to control your giggles. “Y-yeah. I don’t just sleep over at random mansions. And I’m not scared of being alone in the dark.”

“All of it was fake?” he asks again, and this time it’s your turn to be confused.

“Yes?”

He tsks, whether at you or himself you’re not sure, then lets out a tired sigh. Sparing no further pleasantries, he orders you to bed, warns you not to be late tomorrow, and adds that he’s looking forward to the fresh hell he plans to inflict on you. You salute again, just to be extra, then start walking to the female barracks, still laughing to yourself. Hopefully this won’t seem like a hazy dream tomorrow. You got him, you really got him.

Just before you change into your nightgown, a fleeting thought pops into your mind.

Was the reason the lieutenant double-checked that the story was fake because you mentioned that there had been a guy you liked? No, that was ridiculous. He probably just wanted to check that his subordinate that he was investing so much time in wasn’t a complete idiot. But the thought is stuck in your head now, and you fight back a smile, burying your face in your pillow. Maybe you are a little drunk, but you could go back to hating him in the morning.

____________________

It’s astonishing to you, but you’ve actually improved. Gone are the days of your legs aching after running a few measly laps. When Rashad attempts to pin you down, you can flip him over and hold him there. The ODM gear starts to feel more natural, and zipping through the air is slowly becoming muscle memory. Even the swords feel just right in your hands, although it’s weird that you could run out of them and then have nothing to defend yourself with. Oh well, you don’t plan to be in that kind of situation anyways.

You hate to admit it, but Lieutenant Levi’s training is paying off. It’s not something you realize until you learn, with a start, that you are in the top ten. Number six, to be specific. Ricky mocks you endlessly for being one of those people who say they don’t care when they in fact care very much, as though he’s not two ranks below you.

Without telling Millie, you send a letter to your mother, telling her about your achievements.

Mama,

Sorry for taking so long to write. I wasn’t so sure you wanted me to. I still don’t know. But l wanted to tell you that I’m doing well here. I’m number six in the ranks. Isn’t that cool?

Millie’s doing well too, although I’m sure Mrs. Shackel keeps you updated. We have these two boys who follow us around like annoying flies. One’s from a village in Rose, and the other’s actually from an outer city of Wall Maria. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to marry a poor boy. I’ll find someone rich to settle down with eventually.

I hope you’re taking care, and I hope Grandma is too. Her condition hasn’t gotten any worse, has it? If you need me to send something from here, I’ll do my best to see if I can find it.

I wish I was the kind of daughter who could write you a longer letter. Sorry, Mama, but I’m not sure what else to say. Who knows if I’ll see you again?

Lots of love,

(F/N)

____________________

“I” - huff - “need it.”

“No.”

“I” - huff - “will” - huff - “kill you.”

“Tch. You’d try.”

“Just give me the water, please.”

“You still have a lap left.”

“I’ll do it, it’s important to stay hydrated!”

“Do the lap, then you get the water.”

“If you don’t give it to me now, I’ll faint.”

“Then I’ll leave you out here.”

“You wouldn’t - well, you would, but you shouldn’t.”

“Don’t want to. So get to it.”

“God, fine!”

“...”

“Now can I” - huff - “please have it?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

“You are such a -”

“You talk too much.”

“Oh my” - cough - “God. Are you trying to choke me?”

“You wanted the water.”

“To drink, not for you to shove down my throat and waterboard me with!”

“Ungrateful wretch.”

“What are you, a charming prince from a novel?”

“Yes. Now drink up, my bratty duchess, we’ve got more work to do.”

____________________

There’s dirt on your face, your sleeves, and your shoes, and yet you stay still, with a small grin on your face. You’re lying down, facing up, hands pressed up against the ground. To anyone flying above, you’d blend in with the dirt perfectly. Or at least, that’s what you’re counting on.

Somewhere out there, Ricky is on the hunt looking for you.

Your gear lies hidden a few feet away, since you didn’t want anything chunky to ruin your brilliant camouflage. Obviously a good long wash will do wonders for you later, but for now you stay quiet, ignoring the filth on your otherwise pristine self. The forest is quiet, with the light chirps of birds that you’re sure are very cute but would take a shit on you if you stay here too long. You breathe in and out quietly, stomach tense as you wait to see if your plan will work.

The wait isn’t long. You hear him before you see him, faint clicking sounds that his ODM gear is nice enough to alert you with. Pressing down into the ground, you hold your breath and close your eyes halfway, convincing yourself that you’re part of the nature that surrounds you. If you believe it hard enough, maybe this will actually work and Ricky won’t spot you.

After a second that feels like an hour, you hear him fly away and you breathe easy, running a hand through your hair.

Only then you feel something brush up against your finger, something hairy that’s crawling up your hand -

You let out an ungodly shriek, jumping to your feet. The poor bug that crawled onto your hand is flung off as you thrash your arms this way and that, smacking your skin just to get it off, get it off, get it off!

For all your efforts, Ricky hears you scream and immediately zooms back, chortling. He lands down in front of you, placing his finger on your nose as soon as you calm down.

“Found you.”

You sigh. This extreme version of hide-and-seek may have been a bad idea.

____________________

Millie has her head in your lap, a map in her hands as she shakes her head. Apparently there’s something marvelous about the document, since she can’t keep her eyes off it.

“I don’t think I ever realized how large the space is between the walls,” she mutters, “there’s so much distance between Maria and Rose. It didn’t feel that way when we came here.”

“Yeah,” you hum, absentmindedly tracing designs on her cheek, “makes you wonder how different people get the more inward they go.”

Millie’s nose wrinkles in concentration. “Stephen has a slight accent. Have you noticed?”

“Mmhm. He does good work hiding it, though. It’s hard to pick up on it unless he has to roll his r’s.” You try snatching the map from her hands but she holds on tightly, scolding you over trying to give her a papercut. Well that’s hilarious, considering the two of your are covered in scratches and bruises all over, but that’s Millie for you, always striving for the closest thing to perfection she can get.

You lean your head back against the bark of the tree, leaving her to her observations. It’s been a while since the two of you have gotten to hang out together, away from everyone else. It’s really no one’s fault, you’re both busy and it’s not like you haven’t already spent most of your lives together. Millie has her studies to religiously focus on, her rivals to crush, and apparently her maps to drool over. Meanwhile, you have friends to playfully compete with, horrible doodles to draw next to your scribbled notes, and your mind is strangely preoccupied with…

“Look, it’s your best friend,” Millie said noncommittally, nodding her head to the right.

Deja vu hits you like a merchant’s cart. You’re sitting under the same tree, he’s walking in the same direction. When he catches your gaze, you decide to complete the scene and give him a bright smile and a friendly wave.

Levi stares at you for two seconds, and then rolls his eyes and keeps walking. You bite your lip, just slightly amused.

It’s an improvement.

____________________

"(L/N), you’ve got a letter too!” are the words that shake you out of your sleep haze in the morning. You jump up, pushing past the others trying to get their hands on their mail. Reginald, the man who's nice enough to put up with this crap once a week, thrusts an extremely fancy envelope in your hand. Your name is written on the back in your mother’s expert penmanship. You eagerly walk back to your seat, ignoring the glares and eyerolls from some people who obviously weren’t getting their letters in pretty envelopes.

You sit back down at the table, opening the letter with extra care. It’s from your mother, and that makes it precious, so you want to savor it the best you can. Across from you in her normal seat, Millie raises a brow.

“Your mom wrote to you?”

“I wrote to her a few weeks ago. Just wanted to catch up,” you say quietly, not meeting her eyes, “I’m surprised she wrote back.”

Next to Millie, Stephen’s brows furrow. “Why wouldn’t your mother write back to you?”

“No reason,” you answer quickly, “she’s just a busy woman.”

With your friends’ watching your reaction carefully, you unfold the piece of paper, beginning to read.

To my darling daughter,

You say you don’t write much, and yet it gave me a headache just to read that much. You know that I like to be organized, so I’ll answer your unwanted letter point by point.

It’s certainly wonderful that you’re sixth in the ranks. Perhaps that means you’re the sixth least likely to die? Maybe the next time I hear from you, it’ll actually be from your commanding officer telling me how special you were, but how that didn’t stop you from meeting your terrible end. Hopefully there’ll at least be a small pension that comes with it.

Mrs. Shackel and I met for tea last week. She told me you were being personally trained by the best soldier in the Scouts. I have an idea - marry him, someone with such a valuable skill set surely isn’t poor, and is much better suited to your tastes. That way not only will you leave me without a daughter, but you’ll also leave the poor man a widow as well. Would that satisfy your cruelty, dear?

I am taking care. Grandma is taking care. We are doing fine without you. We don’t need anything from you. I don’t think we ever have. Had I known I was raising such a manipulative, heartless girl, I would have prayed to that ridiculous church that you die during childbirth. Unfortunately, Sina did not give me the good instincts to run a knife through you the second you were born.

Please do not write again.

Lots of love,

Your doting mother

“(F/N),” Millie starts immediately, taking in your stricken expression. She must have a good idea of what the letter says. “Forget about it, she’s a -”

You clear your throat loudly, standing up. Stephen looks worried, but he also seems unsure as to what to do. You don’t want him to do anything, hell, you don’t even want Millie to do anything. You want to get out of here. The room is suddenly suffocating. Your eyes are stinging but you are damned if you’re going to break down in here, so you only shake your head, unable to form words. You wave a hand at Millie, hoping she gets the hint not to follow you.

Without looking at anyone, you rush out of the mess hall. Despite your determination to wait until you’re definitely in a secluded area, tears start flowing down your face the second you step out. With an ugly, pained sob escaping you, you break out into a run.

Now that it’s getting a bit chillier, the cold bites into your eyes, making them water even more. You stop running after a few minutes, in the middle of the grounds. With everyone still having breakfast, there’s no one here yet, and you take that as an invitation to drop to your knees and start crying in earnest.

Why did she have to be so cruel?

You’re not a crier, you’re really not. An avid complainer, sure. A whiner at times. Definitely a sore loser. But you don’t particularly get any catharsis out of crying like so many other people do. When it comes to your mother, though...she’s just always known exactly where to strike her punches to turn you into a helpless little girl again. She can make you start blubbering so easily, and you hate that she can control your emotions even from so far away.

So you read the letter over and over again, until you’re mouthing the words on your lips that taste salty from the waterworks coating them. You’re trying to be quiet, but it’s beyond your control. You’re sobbing and wailing, and showing no sign of stopping.

There’s a quiet rustling beside you as someone walks up, and you shut your eyes tightly for a second. “M-Mil, I’m fine, I swear.”

“Are you?” Levi inquires, and you choke on a surprised sob, swallowing the embarrassing sound at the last second. Furiously wiping your eyes, you make to stand, but he crouches down instead.

He’s been in close proximity to you before, but never like this. Right now he’s near enough for you to reach out and touch his cheek if you so desired, but far enough that he’s not overwhelming you, and yet you can see the pores on his cheeks, the individual lashes lining those gorgeous grey eyes. You wipe your cheeks angrily. Great, just great, this incident will set you back several months on your plan. As though he was someone who needed to see you in such a vulnerable state.

The lieutenant outstretches his hand expectantly, and you’re not sure why you give him the letter so easily. You watch as his eyes scan the cruel words.

“I know,” you say before he can speak, “I know it’s not a big deal. But she’s my mother, I just - I just wanted her to - I thought she could at least be a little proud - “

You don’t realize another tear has rolled down your cheek until he brushes his thumb across your face, wiping it off easily. God, he must think you so weak. You wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to stop your private lessons right here and now.

But when you look at him, there’s no condescension on his face. There’s not even pity. You can’t place it. To an outsider he might look angry, but after knowing him for almost a year, you know that’s not it. It’s something strangely...protective. Fierce. You never expected him to look at you like that. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Stop crying,” he orders, not unkindly. It could be taken as a request. “Do you want to keep this letter?”

“I - I don’t know.”

It seems your body is more obedient than you are, because you stop tearing up, and when you wipe your face again, it remains dry.

“That’s it,” Levi murmurs, as his hands hold yours, warming them up. “Personally, I’d rip it to shreds. But that’s up to you.”

What’s going on? He’s being...well, he’s being nice. He’s never nice. He’s not always unpleasant, and he indulges in your silly banter, but he’s never been so...soft, especially not with you. And just why are you so easily warming up to him, going as far as to curl your fingers around his? Is it because his hands are warm against your cold ones, or is it...is it because…

“I want to keep it,” you blurt out, partly to keep yourself from the unwelcome thoughts inside your head.

He nods. and then gently grasps your arms, bringing both you and him to your feet. He places the letter in your hand, and then proceeds to brush the sides of your uniform off. It’s rough, but you’re emotional and this feels like the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you.

“Thanks,” you breathe. It’s hard to say, but you spit it out anyways. “I - I don’t know what to - thank you.”

Finally, Levi looks like himself again, because he rolls his eyes and mutters, “I just picked your lazy ass up, (L/N), don’t look so fucking grateful about it.”

You smile softly, but he looks away, obviously feeling awkward. He truly goes through moods like he’s trying on different outfits, the weirdo. You decide that just this once you can spare him - besides, you need to save face too. You turn around, intending to walk away.

The lieutenant grabs your hand at the last second. He grips it tightly, keeping your arm outstretched. If only your heart could stop lurching like this, it’s not as if he’s going to pull you in for a kiss - he’s not the type.

“(L/N).”

“Yes?”

“From now on, if you’re going to cry, you’re only going to cry because of me. Understood?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes, sir.”

He nods, satisfied, and lets you go.

____________________

You can’t believe you’re doing this.

In the past year, you’ve been to Lieutenant Levi’s office once, maybe twice or thrice. Either you had something to tell him (like how you couldn’t train due to severe emotional trauma, which was usually denied), or he led you there himself, to quickly grab something. How come he gets an office anyway? You’re pretty sure one has to be a captain or section commander to get their own space, and Levi is neither. You suppose being humanity’s strongest comes with its own benefits, even if it is an unofficial title. He gets to enjoy the finer things in life. Lucky him.

Anyways, you hadn’t planned on showing up here after hours, and certainly not with a steaming cup of tea in your hands.

Swallowing every bit of your pride, you knock on the door. “Lieutenant?”

No answer. You knock again.

And again.

It’s right as your knocks get just a touch louder that you hear him groan, “I’m coming, just hold on a second.”

When Levi opens the door, you take the quickest second to note that he looks how he did the day he walked you home, dressed in casual clothing. Realistically you know that no one stays in their uniform all day, but it’s still jarring to see him out of it. Someone might mistake him as approachable, although that ridiculous notion would quickly evaporate when they got a good look at his face.

He gives you a quick annoyed lookover, clearly waiting to hear your reason for disturbing him at this time.

“Chamomile,” you say with a grin, thrusting it forward, “Helps you sleep.”

He gives you a long, deadpan look.

“Who asked you to make this?”

“No one asked me.” You let out a puff of air to blow the loose strands of hair that have fallen out from your bun into your eyes. “I’m being nice. As thanks for...you know. Just take it.”

Levi doesn’t take it, but he does turn and go back into his office without closing the door, so you take the invitation and slip in, shutting it behind you. He slips into the chair behind his desk and you make yourself comfortable in the one in the front. There’s important looking documents all over, but there’s an order to them - a method to his madness. There’s not a single pen out of place. Of course, this is your obsessive compulsive midget who organized it, so you can’t expect anything else.

You slide the cup across the desk, where there’s another cup of tea already half empty. Oops, you’ve accidentally fueled his caffeine addiction. “That doesn’t look like chamomile.”

“It’s not. Just regular black tea.”

“Won’t that keep you up even more?”

“That’s the idea,” he says calmly, relaxed and leaning back.

“Wow, you’re a proud insomniac.” You shake your head in a disappointed manner. “If it were me, I’d at least try to sleep.”

Levi gives you a little glare, then pushes aside the paper he was working on to pick up your gift. He peers at it, looking a bit tired all of a sudden. It’s as though the day or the month or the entire year is catching up with him, and his eyes flicker to your eager face before he lets out a long sigh, raises the cup and brings it to his mouth.

Almost immediately he gags, slamming it down as his face scrunches up in disgust. “What the fuck, (L/N)? This is shit!”

Well, excuse you. You’re not a professional tea sommelier, and this isn’t some dainty cafe.

Still, you wince, crossing your arms and curling back into the chair. “Sorry. I’ve never actually made tea before. I’m not a fan.”

“Let me guess,” Levi says in a scathing tone as though you just admitted to cold-blooded murder, “you drink coffee.”

What an ignorant thing to assume.

“I drink milk, I’ll have you know.” You snap this at him, only realizing a second later that it’s not really something to boast about so proudly.

Something he clearly realizes as well, because he’s fighting back a smile and failing pretty miserably. “You drink milk.”

Well, there’s no taking it back now. “Yes.”

“Milk.”

“It makes your bones grow strong, okay?”

He laughs at you, leaning back in his seat. “Of course it does.”

“Don’t make fun of me, it does!”

You bite down the comment that comes to mind, which is that he must not have drank much milk otherwise he’d probably be taller. You’re here to be nice, you remind yourself, even if he’s being his usual infuriating self. There’s lots of nice things you can do, like...like…

Oh my gosh, are you the mean one in this relationship? No, that’s impossible.

“Looks like you have a lot of work,” you say, gesturing to the piles of paper on his desk. “Want some help?”

Levi raises a brow at you, as though to ask you how much help you possibly think you could be. That’s fucking rude. “No, I wouldn't want to waste your strong bones on some boring paperwork.”

It’s your turn to glare. Maybe focusing on his totally wrong opinions about your choice in beverage will help you ignore the fact that the two of you are sitting, dare you say, cozily, in his office. He’s not kicking you out, he’s indulging you in conversation, and he’s even taking another sip from the supposedly terrible cup of tea you made for him. Sure, he grimaces after drinking it, but he’s not throwing it out. That’s...something.

Your relationship with the lieutenant is quickly becoming something dangerous. You’re enjoying his company a little too much lately. You’re thrilling in his laughter too often, you’re drowning in his eyes an unhealthy amount. It could be chalked up to the fact that you’ve just grown accustomed to him, since you see him so often, but you know that’s not it. The more likely explanation is that you just have such low expectations for him that the second he shows basic human decency, you mistake your surprise for some newfound affection for the man. You want that to be the explanation, at least. The alternative is too awful to think about.

“So,” he begins, and you think you’re about to be kicked out until he says, “shitty mom. What’s that about?”

You sigh. That’s about the only conversation topic you don’t want to breach, but you suppose it can’t be avoided. “Typical rich girl problems. She wants to use me for her own purposes, so she’s not happy I got up and abandoned her. Plus, Dad died outside the walls, and she’s not really a fan of me following in his footsteps.” You feel comfortable telling him this much.

Levi looks thoughtful. “Do you plan to die out there?” He’s not fazed by your blunt attitude at all, which is kind of refreshing, actually.

But the question is still...well, how do you answer that? How do you answer it without disappointing him? And why does it matter if you disappoint him? You don’t have the answer to any of these questions, so you only shrug and avert your eyes, letting them drop down the floor. Your goals are your own, and he doesn’t need to know them. He doesn’t pressure you, only hums in understanding.

“I’ve really never had a cup of tea this bad.”

You smile, grateful for the change of topic. “No one’s forcing you to drink it. Lieutenant.”

“Insolent brat, you go a whole conversation and then add the title like you’re doing me some kind of fucking favor.” He’s good at avoiding the topic too. Your eyes light up, and you lean forward.

“Pardon me, sir. Lieutenant Levi. Your grace. My prince charming. The duke of destruction. My deepest apologies.”

“Not forgiven.” He smirks, thoroughly entertained. “Try harder.”

“Make me.” The response slips naturally through your lips, inviting and seductive.

Oh for the love of Rose, you think to yourself, please shut the fuck up. It’s like the second you resolve to keep things neutral with him, he sets something up so well that you have to say something borderline flirtatious. It’s just too easy with him. You lose all semblance of self control, and always end up saying something stupid.

“Should I?” Levi muses, a gleam in his eyes now. “Your mother did suggest that you marry me. Maybe I should take her up on that.” He leans forward with a cruel smile, as if the idea is perfectly enticing to him. “Would you finally be a good girl and listen to me then, (L/N)?”

You freeze, mouth falling open. You had really, truly forgotten that your witch of a mother had included that in her oh-so loving letter, and that he’d read it. Holy hells, the universe wouldn’t be satisfied until the man in front of you had humiliated you in every way, shape and form. And this right here, this is exactly the fucking problem. He never stops you when you unintentionally flirt with him - most of the time he ignores it, and other times he encourages you and you daresay he flirts back. To mess with you, of course, none of this is genuine, but it makes the butterflies in your stomach freak out either way.

“Probably not, sir,” you force out when you find your voice, “I’m actually not looking to get married at all, so if someone did make a wife out of me, I’d fight them tooth and nail.”

He snorts. “Of course you would. Have to make use of those strong bones somehow, don’t you?” This fucking midget, he somehow musters up the audacity to leave you flustered and then moves on and pretends like nothing happened. What an asshole.

“Oh my God,” you groan, “leave me and my milk alone, caffeine addict. Seriously, I know it’s bad out there, but it can’t possibly be bad enough for you to act like such a hardass all the time.”

Levi pauses, the sharp retort that he was surely about to fire dying on his lips. There’s a brief flash of sadness in his eyes, and you bite your lip. Fuck, maybe you’re the one who crossed the line this time. You have a quick apology ready to go. but he speaks before you get the chance.

“For your information,” he says coolly, “I’ve always been like this.”

Well, that’s interesting. He’s not wartorn, just a grump? No one is just negative all the time for no reason, they have to have been screwed over by life somehow. You can’t take his claim at face value, you just have to do some more digging.

“And why is that? Rough childhood?” You snap your fingers, invested in this new guessing game. “Orphaned as a baby. Cast aside by a sibling.” Your eyes sparkle mischievously as you grin. “Abandoned at the altar by your long time lover. She left you for your cousin!”

“It’s past your bedtime,” Levi says, standing up, “lovely of you to drop by, but you better get going.”

The cup that you gave him is now empty.

“Injury. Business deal went wrong.” He pulls you up by your arms, ignoring your scientific hypotheses. “Your favorite pet died. Ooh, I know, the company your father left you in charge of went bankrupt! Wait wait wait, Levi!” He’s pushed you out of the room and has a hand on the door, but before he can close it, you place your palm against his chest, looking at him very seriously.

“Is it the altar one?”

“Why do you need to know?” he asks, seizing your wrist to take it off.

See, this is what you mean by setting you up perfectly. It’s his fault, all his fault. “If my betrothed has a scandalous past, I think I have a right to that information.”

Levi shoves you out and slams the door shut, leaving you beaming as you begin to jog to your dorms. That’s another point for you, and now that you’ve paid him back for comforting you earlier the two of you are even, and you can return to planning for the battle that he has no idea he’s participating in. The stars shine brightly that night, and you sleep easy.

____________________

“Look, they’re back!”

Everyone ignores Grumman’s instructions to stay right where they are, an action they’ll probably pay for in blood, sweat and tears later. The Scouts are returning from their latest expedition, finally. Everyone around the base is always tense when they leave, and now people can rest easy knowing that the next one won’t be for a few months. There’s apprehension in the air - as of right now, no one knows who made it back and who wasn’t so fortunate. You feel a twinge of guilt at the relief that you know the only person is the Survey Corp that you care for know is the most likely to have survived.

Sure enough, there he is next to Captain Erwin, looking weary as he gets off his horse. You’ve pushed forward to the front of the crowd of cadets, all scanning the crowd. You find yourself sandwiched between Ricky, whose long legs make it easy for him to keep up with you, and Petra, who is sighing with a dreamy smile on her face. You follow her gaze, confused.

“What, one of them bring back some food?” You crane your neck to figure out what she’s looking so lovingly at.

“No.” Petra points discreetly, and you follow her finger. “It’s just, he’s rather handsome, isn’t he?”

“Who, Erwin Smith? I mean, I guess, but he’s not really my -”

“No, (F/N).” She shakes her head fondly. “Lieutenant Levi. Don’t you think he’s extremely good-looking?”

Next to you, Ricky barks out a laugh, and you elbow him as you utter with the grace of someone who hasn’t been fantasizing about Levi’s eyes since the moment you met him, “No, not really. You can do better, Petra, trust me.”

A soldier rides in late, his face panicked and sweat trickling down his face.

“Oh, come on, I know the two of you have your differences, but even you have to admit that -”

One second, you’re chattering with Petra and wrestling Ricky with one arm as he grinds your foot against his.

The next second, your ears are ringing with the words that the soldier screams as loud as he can.

“The titans have broken the outer wall! They’ve gotten into Shiganshina!”

In a single moment, everything you know and hold dear changes.

All at once people are shouting, screaming at the poor soldier who delivered the news to explain. The titans have gotten into Shiganshina? How could they have? Is he out of his mind? Who sent him? How many drinks has he had? What does he mean, they’ve broken the outer wall? It’s a wall, it can’t just be broken, so what does he mean? What is he talking about?

It takes you a minute to notice Ricky has completely frozen next to you. His hands are trembling, and he’s mumbling to himself and shaking his head, as though this is a nightmare and he just needs a good pinch to wake up.

“My - my mom and dad, and my sisters,” he’s saying. “They’re not...they can’t fight titans, they’re not soldiers. They need...need help…”

With a terrifying realization, you remember that he’s from Shiganshina. You’re grabbing his arm to steady him, words of reassurance getting stuck in your throat. You don’t know what to say - you can barely control the consuming fear growing inside you, let alone soothe his.

In the next few seconds, Commander Shadis has learned everything he’s going to learn from the messenger, and he lets out a scream you will remember for the rest of your life. The order that’s delivered to you on humanity’s darkest day is simple.

“All Survey Corps members will refill their gas and restock their blades immediately! I want you all back on horseback in five minutes, you hear me? We are riding back to Shiganshina right now! All cadets and other personnel at this base are to gather the rest of the horses and get behind Wall Rose to assist the soldiers there with the refugees! Is that understood?”

He’s met with the chilling cries of at least a hundred people shouting, “Yes, sir!”

Your voice was not among the people who answered. As people run past you to prepare, you run forward, because suddenly you’re scared. Suddenly you’re not so sure that he’ll come back. And you can battle with yourself all you want later, all that’s important to you right now is getting to him. Even as you see tearstained faces pass by, you keep running, because you have to catch him before he goes, you have to -

You catch up to him right before he disappears. Steely grey eyes meet yours as people rush past you, no one sparing even a second glance to the two of you.

For a second, he’s surprised. Then he turns cold, and hard, and you know that many people are about to die. And he’s going to have to witness every. Last. One.

“Is there someone in Shiganshina you need me to look out for?” Levi murmurs, with all the softness of someone who might be riding out to his death.

No, you want to scream. Ricky’s family, maybe, but you don’t even know what they look like, and he’s going to have to worry about saving enough people without you placing an extra burden on his shoulders. No, it’s nothing like that, you just want him to...you need him to...

“Be careful,” you manage to get out in a foolish, rushed request, “please be careful.”

Shock makes its way to his features, as though he thinks it’s out of this world for someone to ask him to stay alive for his own sake. Your heart clenches, but you’re not leaving until he promises you he’s going to come back.

“Levi!” Captain Erwin calls. You don’t have any time left.

Even before he speaks, you know that he’s not going to make you the stupid promise you were hoping for. He’s not flowery, and certainly not one to feed you bullshit. No, he’s real, the realest person you’ve ever known, and his answer is going to be as authentic as he is.

“I’ll do my best.” Levi pulls away from you. “You be careful too, (L/N).”

With that, he breaks away from you and is lost in the crowd.

You don’t even realize you had been holding onto him until your hand is left feeling bare, reaching for him in an endless sea of soldiers storming to their doom.

ohhhhhh, i’ve been waiting for this for a long time. surprise, things are happening!

mommy dearest is rather harsh, isn’t she? reader’s no sweetheart herself, but damn.

yes, there’s a slap on titan reference in there.

poor carla is getting eaten right about now, and reader is here having a moment. sigh.

comment and let me know what you think!

[ghostiewriter]

AJSKDJLES you’re so nice!!! I was 100% using my birthday to manipulate you into giving us more headcanons lol but I wasn’t expecting you to actually get to it today! 🥺🥺🥰 take your time and no pressure but I definitely wouldn’t say no to hearing more about them making wild melodramatic accusations to make each other laugh in public because I can 100% see it. And I can totally see it starting on the surf trip because no one knows them so they’d just like try and embarrass the other? Amazing.

Sorry it’s a day late but I hope you had a great birthday bestie and enjoy the chaos of this wee blurb😂tbh I love this headcanon for them because it’s something they would totally do! But happy late birthday and I hope it was an enjoyable one!!❤️

Word Count: 1.6K

It started of a silly little game.

Keeping true to their word, the second they had graduated from high school and had those diplomas in their hands, JJ and Kiara wasted little time in planning the logistics of their surf trip around the world. So many places to go, waves to surf, sights to see—it was impossible to choose a place to start. However, thanks to Pope and his intense need to create a plan so his two best friends wouldn’t be thrown into the world as they “go with the flow”, he had organised a proper scheme.

JJ didn’t think it was necessary, and Kiara knew they wouldn’t stick to it. But they let Pope continue with it regardless.

Against their better judgement, his route and itinerary around Europe was insanely helpful for the couple as they ventured through the countries, excited to see places they could only dream about. Especially for JJ, it felt absolutely surreal that he was leaving the island, let alone travelling the world with the love of his life at his side. It was something he would never fully believe, but cherish in fear that he would wake up from this perfect dream and return to a shitty life in reality.

But as he turned to look at Kiara, her hair swept back by the breeze and her eyes watching the glittering city below in awe as they stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower, JJ knew that no matter how many times he pinched himself that this was his reality.

“If you’re about to make some cheesy joke about how the view is pretty but you’re prettier, I will throw you off this tower.”

JJ only grinned in response, shaking his head as he finally shifted his attention to the city view. They had just witnessed the sunset and it was one of the most breath-taking views either of them had seen, without a fucking doubt.

“Well now that you’ve stole my thunder and ruined it…” He trailed off with a sigh, but his smile only widened when he heard the soft giggle that escaped her lips.

“Whatever.” She muttered, her features softening as she leaned against the railing and took in the sounds of the streets of Paris.

“I can understand why so many people propose up here, it’s beautiful.” He admitted after a few moments.

Kiara only scoffed.

JJ turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You don’t agree?”

“Because there is nothing more romantic than having a bunch of other tourists watching one of the most intimate moments of your life whilst horns are beeping down below and the wind is blowing hair into your lip gloss.” She deadpanned.

Kiara was a romantic person when she wanted to be, but some gestures were even too much for her.

“Well when you put it like that, it’s no fun.” JJ muttered with a small chuckle, though he could see her point. “Does this mean I should keep the ring in my pocket and scrap the proposal?” He asked with a grin on his face.

Kiara rolled her eyes but she smiled. “Sorry to break your heart, babe, but if you got down on one knee right now, I would have no shame embarrassing you in front of all these people.” She said with a brief glance at the other tourists standing up here with them.

But JJ’s eyes gleamed at the sight of the challenge.

She didn’t have time to question him when he slipped one of the rings off, holding it in his palm before he cleared his throat and got down on one knee.

Her eyes widened as she looked down at him in confusion. “Jay, what are you doing—”

“Barbra Gertie Stonehend,” He started in a loud, boisterous voice to (successfully) catch the attention of the other tourists. “We have spent years together, helping each other through many hardships. I have been there for you since your bed wetting days when you were twelve, I have been there for you since you got your braces stuck in the railing at the zoo, and I have been there for you since your pet piggy was tragically knocked down by a bike. But now I ask that you do me the honour of being there with me at the end of the aisle by the alter?”

He finished his obscene speech, now holding his ring between his fingers and looking up at her with a faux hopeful expression. She pressed her lips together to hold in her snickers as she glanced around, seeing all eyes on them as they awaited her answer. And when her gaze returned to JJ, there was something quite smug shining in his eyes.

JJ had always been the best liar from them all, the way he would so easily be able to spout out nonsense at the drop of a hat. But she was just as competitive and determined as the blond, and willing to challenge him at his own game.

“Oh Bernie…” She sighed, hand placed on her chest as she looked down at him. “How could I ever marry a monster like you! Marge told me everything, I cannot believe you would expect me to marry you after you were the one that killed my pig!”

A few gasps could be heard from the crowd around them.

JJ urged himself not too laugh, though his eyebrows were raised in silent appreciation.

“Boo-Bear, it’s not what it seems! I didn’t mean to kill Vincent!” He urged, reaching out to hold her hands in his own. “I am more than a cold blooded pig murderer, please give me a chance!”

“I love you, my snookums, but I cannot!”

“Please, honey-bunch, don’t listen to Marge!” He cried out as she ripped her hands from his. “She is just jealous of what we have!”

“Then why are you having a child with her?!”

Kiara could’ve sworn she heard someone utter ‘holy shit’ under their breath but urged her face to remain neutral.

“It’s not mine!”

“Then who’s is it?” Kiara demanded, her hand clutching her imaginary pearls.

“My twin brother’s!”

“No!” Kiara gasped, feigning utter shock as she took a few steps back. “It cannot be Bobby’s…because he is the father of my child!”

Another series of gasps echoed amongst the landing.

“You…you were cheating on me with my twin brother?” JJ asked, finally standing up as he looked at her with a look of betrayal.

“I’m sorry, Bernie…” She whispered but JJ dramatically turned away.

“I can’t believe this,” He muttered before heading towards the exit. “I’m taking the dog and going home!”

“BERNIE, NO—”

“Goodbye, Barbra, enjoy your life with Bobby and his stupid exterminating company!”

Whispers murmured around the group and Kiara urged herself to keep a straight face as she waited a few moments before following him down. Once they reached the bottom, it took one glance at each other before they burst out laughing, tears streaming down their faces as they clung onto each other and walked back to their flat.

It was the start of an odd game they played for the rest of their trip. In the most random places they would play out insane scenarios, the aim to be as dramatic as they possibly could until one of them had to physically leave the scene before they burst out laughing. It was just a wee game to spice things up when they were out in public, plus it helped knowing they would never see any of these people again.

The word ‘Eiffel’ just had to be said and the game would begin.

And boy, was it entertaining.

There was the time they were in Austria visiting a vineyard, when suddenly Roberto was just sick and tired of holding back his secret affair he had been hiding behind his wife’s back. Little did he know his wife, Carla, had been sleeping with his secretary too.

Or the time they pretended to be spies on a mission whilst walking through a museum in Australia, pretending to mutter things to one another and even went to the extent of buying walkie talkies so they could suspiciously communicate from opposite sides of the room. That one kind of backfired because they did end up being thrown out by security.

Or the time they were in a small village in Turkey when it was suddenly revealed that Topanga would be leaving her fiancé, Johnny, for a prince that promised her wealth in power. However much to her shock, the prince she had been talking to was actually Johnny catfishing her.

Or there was the time they decided to re-enact the whole plot of Mamma Mia in Greece to see how long it would take people to notice how familiar the whole situation felt. It turned out it took people a tragically long time.

It was a stupid game that they adored and it followed them through the extent of the surf trip and even sometimes when they would returned home. Not to the same extent as they did in the past with fake identifies, but sometimes just odd scenarios to really fuck with their friends’ heads and keep them on their toes.

There was just something so satisfying about turning to each other, matching grins on their faces as they sat at the kegger and listened to some random touron talk about how nothing interesting ever happened on this island whenever she would visit her grandmother.

Ideas racing in their minds and all the possibilities of how they can make this night one to remember were jumping at the possibility to put on a show. With his eyebrows raised, JJ turned to his girl.

“Eiffel?”

“Eiffel.”

“HOW COULD YOU?! THAT GOLDFISH PIZZA MEANT EVERYTHING TO ME AND YOU JUST ATE IT AFTER EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH?”

After all, it started as a silly little but it always ensured chaos.

[jennsmischievousmind]

Chaos Therapy

Session #4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You were assigned to a field mission, with particulars co-agents, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. One mission turned into multiples. After each missions you are debriefed by a therapist, Dr Noach just as Sam and Bucky. Thing is, they don’t know that you are much more than an agent.

Warnings: pining, bit of angst, Buck/Sam bickering, violence (fights against enemies), mild swearing (still real bad at warnings)

Published: 2021-02-21 Completed: 2021-03-30

“Lettonia?” You fastened your weightlifting gloves looking back at Bucky.

“We have a lead on Zemo.” his face fell a little

“Hey” you searched for his eyes “kick his ass for me,”

His smile returned a hearthy chuckle leaving his lips, hesitantly his hand reached your forearm brshing down to your fingertips, he took a step forward and pressed a kiss to your temple, your eyes closed on their own and you squeezed his hand in yours, he let his forehead rest against yours.

"See you in a few days," he whispered, you nodded and he took a step backward,

"Don't kill each other," 

"noted,"

You watch him go, his broad back passing the gym door. Your stomach immediatly churning, "Buck!" you ran out the gym, he was waiting at the elevator, "Bucky!" he panicked seeing you ran to him.

"Doll,"  your fingers interlaced with his dog tags, you stopped the motion your face inches from him, his eyes fall on your lips. A tug on his dog tags and your lips collided, his arms circled your back, a hand splayed on your waist the other   slowly going up your spine to your nape as your free one caressed his face, feeling the pricks of his beard under your delicate fingers.

“Bucky, I .. “ the ding of the elevator distracted both of you for a second “I’ll have to tell you something,”

“you’re okay ?” the worry in his eyes had you tongue-tied, your hands tightened on his shirt. “Yea, yea just .. be careful out there,” the smile you gave him unknitted his brows, his hands brushed your arms.  You couldn’t bare to tell him, not now, he will know the truth soon enough anyway. He hesitantly leaned in pecking your lips before getting on the elevator. 

“What’s going on ?” Sam squinted his falcon eyes at Bucky who did everything to avoid his scrutinous look.  “Oh, oooh you and Y/n finally!!” Sam let out a proud laugh, clasping Bucky’s shoulder.

  “Y/N what do you make of their duo?”

“It works somehow. I know it seems unbelievable especially when you see them from the outside. The thing is, they both lose Captain Rogers, the person that believe in them both and now they can only count on each other and believe in each other that’s why it works. Sam believe in Bucky being able to heal and get redemption, while Bucky believe in Sam being worthy of the Shield. The constant bickering is their way of showing their affection. They have a strong teamwork.” you conclude.

Noach nods, all the while analyzing your features.

“Thank you, they’re another mission coming up_”

“Yes ma’am. But I’m not allowed to join them for this mission,”

“I know, I’ve talked with the Director, that’s a shame, it’s a big one,” you both stand up and she walks you to the door “Y/N” she stops “I’m planning on ending the therapy when they come back from this mission.”

“What is it?” she says seeing your face fell.

“You know exactly,” you passes your badge on the elevator sensor. 

“It was necessary,”

“They won’t like it,”

“They? Or he?” you gave her a grave look, “You want me to say that I shouldn’t have engage anything with Bucky,”

“No, I don’t blame you, you’re both human attraction is normal. Though now a long discussion with him awaits you.” Your head tilt back knowing too well she was right.

Sam and Bucky were back from Lettonia, you had some undone work back in the cave you didn’t have the time to greet them yet.

“Now, in order to round off our work here, I needed a closer look at your teamwork and general relationship,”

“You bugged us, Doc?” Sam scoffed, you facepalm behind the one-way mirror.

“Not exactly. I need you to know it was necessary to prove that your duo was fit for combat,” she turned to the mirror behind her nodding. Your cue, clenching your hand on the door handle, the voices inside increased as you pushed it.

“Agent Y/F/N mission was to evaluate your compatibility and capacity to work as a team, outside those therapy sessions. Agent Y/L/N beside her I.T work is a trained therapist,” 

“That’s some fucked up therapy,”

“Mr, Wilson,_” you blocked their discussion as you were focused on Bucky’s reaction. His clenched fits on his thighs, his locked jaw and his gaze fixated on the wall before him. You jumped slightly as he stood up and left the room. Noach and Sam looked at you stopping their discussion. “I’ll be right back,” quickly walking out, you breathe in deeply. Bucky’s back facing you, the tension in his stance visible.

“Bucky,..” he glanced on the side

“I’ve been lie too for a longtime Y/n, ..” taking a step forward carefully you observed his side profile “I guess you can hurt me in the end,”  his voice melted with anger and sorrow stopped you, the lump in your throat getting bigger, the prickling in your eyes accentuating.

Biting your lower lip, you tried to find your voice back. Like approaching a wild wolf, you were on edge yet cautious, reaching his shoulder you softly pulled on it “Please look at me,” he turned around but his eyes never reached yours, his hands on his hips you took them gently, interlacing your fingers with his. Against what you thought he didn’t reject you. His eyes still cast away, you rested your forehead on his chest, closing your eyes, you felt his hands twitched in yours, his chest heaving a little faster.

“You have to understand,…” your murmured feeling your throat tightened.

“you could have told me!” he spoke quietly yet the tightness in his voice showed his anger.

“Really though,” an anxious smirk reached your mouth for a millisecond “it was my mission Buck. I .. I didn’t plan on falling for you, it changed a lot of things.” He stayed silent at your confession; panic took over, his silence giving you the chills. Clearing your throat after an odd silent long second, you let go of his hands, taking a step back, and took your most serious professional voice “Please come back in the room, Dr Noach has some more questions.”

Noach arched an eyebrow seeing you enter the room alone, you sat next to her, facing Sam. Like Noach predicted Sam was “easier” to get by, he was still reluctant obviously but not closed to discussion. Bucky never came back in the room, before leaving Noach gave you gentle smile squeezing your upper arm.

“You won’t have to see much of me now, don’t worry,” you said to Sam who slowed down to a stop next to the elevator.

“Well, we’re not through it yet, the director of intelligence asked to see the three of us,”  you stepped into the elevator with him.

 “As you know the image of super-heroes is not at his best. After the few events with the flag smashers and the chaos in Lettonia” he looked at the boys gravely “the governments are not willing to brush this away as nothing happened. Moreover, rumor has it flag smashers are still quite upset about the docks operation. I suggest you lay low for a few days, weeks maybe. I can’t have you fighting flag smashers around the country, and cause much more mishaps,”

Sam clapped is hand all of sudden, turning to you and the silent Bucky next to you “Mi casa es su casa,”

You look at them wondering, Bucky avoiding your eyes. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” you left the room after the director dismissed you.

Starting your way to the elevator you paused hearing your name, “Sam’s house is safe, and you will be safer with us,” Bucky’s concerned warmed your heart.

“Hurts me to say it but tincan’s right,”

Although you knew they were 100% right, spending 24/7 with them, moreover around Bucky, it would have been great if it wasn’t for the fact that he totally despised you at the moment.

Passing by your place you grabbed a backpack and shove a bunch of random clothes in it. Sam and Bucky were waiting in the car. Seating down on your bed, the exhaustion caught up with you, your mind going blank, staring into the void.

Bucky look in the rear-view mirror “She’s taking too long,” Sam hummed. “Maybe we should check on her,”

“Maybe,” Sam looked at Bucky, pushing up his sunglasses onto his nose, reclining his seat and crossing his arms. Bucky rolled his eyes opening the door with a bit too much force that it cried out.

A knock on your door made you jump, blue eyes met yours, he was standing there at your bedroom door. He looked around taking everything in, if you were both in another mindset it would be thrilling.

“We have to go, the longer we stay here_ “ 

“I know, sorry,” grabbing your pack you slide down your bed, opening on your drawer near the door you grabbed the gun in it, slipping in your pants. Bucky eyed you, hands in his pocket. 

He didn’t budge as you passed by him. His aura embracing you, overwhelming your senses. Daring a glance behind at him, his eyes were lost on you, his lips moved as he was about to say something but as soon as he refocused his jaw clenched a second. “Let’s go,” he walked to the door, you squint your eyes unwilling to see him past you so coldly. A warmth enveloping the hand holding your bag brought you back, his flesh hand brushed yours as he grabbed your pack, then left without looking back.

“So, we’re just going to follow orders?”

“It cannot hurt,” Sam glanced in the rear-view mirror “we all need some time off...” The ride was so awkward Sam was trying to loosen up the mood every so often, you tried to keep up with him but at one point you were too exhausted and fell asleep.

Bucky kept glancing at your sleeping form curled in the backseat. “When we get there you two will talk!” I’m not spending a week or more with a depressed cyborg and a torned beautiful woman!” Bucky frowned at Sam, “I haven’t dealt with that kind of problem, in a while.” he sighed the all sentence.

“Well, get with it!” Sam’s voice woke you up, “Good timing, we’re here!” The light blue and white big house appeared before you. “Sam that’s a really nice place!”

“Thanks, in the family for generations!” he was rightfully proud of the building.

“Rooms are upstairs,” he turned around letting his duffle bag hit the ground, the both of you standing awkwardly 2 feet apart.

“I don’t want to hear anything…” his look paused on you then Bucky his look insisting. You rolled your eyes at the insinuation. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” You drag yourself up the wooden stairs.

“Dinner at 9, Everyone pitch in to cook, house rule,”

“Believe me Wilson, you don’t want me near fire and sharp knives.” You yelled from the landing, missing Bucky hiding a smile as he joined Sam in the living room.

“Here,’ Sam walked down the pier, handing a bottle of beer to Buck who was watching the sunset.

“You know she had to keep it from us,” Sam calmly said, his VA side resurging.

“I know,”

“And that she wouldn’t feel so bad if she didn’t care about you,” Seeing Bucky staying silent his brows knitted, Sam stood up “Man, you got to talk to her, she reached out it’s on you now,”

“You realized it’s not that easy,”

“It is, you walk up to her, show or tell her what’s on that cyborg brain of yours, and that’s it, avoiding her it’s not the right way to do it.”

After a good shower you sat by the window overlooking the pier, the boys were on the dock enjoying a beer. “It’s gonna be fine,” you pep talked yourself eyes trained on Bucky’s silhouette.

Session #5

MASTERLIST  

Published: 2021-02-21 Completed: 2021-03-30

[vodkassassin]

🥒✈ doing fuck marry kill using whoever. Obviously they will be overheard, by mqf, mbj, or both. Also can have sqh state his sexuality which is nothing. Ace rep baby.

Yesss danci I can always count on you! Thanks for slipping my hc ace!SQH in there. Ily @dancibayo

—

“I’m bored,” Shang Qinghua grandly announces.

“Yes, so you’ve said, fifteen times already,” Shen Qingqiu states dryly, but his friend steamrolls right over him.

“I am so bored, so,” Shang Qinghua says, “Shen-ge. Fuck, marry, kill.”

Shen Qingqiu startles, nearly dropping his fan. He whips around to stare at the other with wide eyes. Shang Qinghua props himself up onto his elbow and the grin that’s on his face is mischievous and evil.

“Wh—Airplane?” He nearly squawks, and then returns the grin. “No, stop—!”

Shang Qinghua’s grin nearly splits his face. “Fuck, marry, kill! Tianlang-jun—”

“No!” Shen Qingqiu laughs, reaching for the nearby cushion to chuck it at his cackling friend.

Shang Qinghua ducks the projectile and continues. “Tianlang-jun, Zhuzhi Lang—”

“Airplane!”

“And Sha Hualing!”

“Her?” Shen Qingqiu shrieks, diving for another pillow. His fan tumbles to the floor. “Out of everyone you could have picked for the choices, it had to be her?!”

Shang Qinghua, nimble bastard that he is, managed to avoid this cushion too. “First round will be easy! I definitely didn't have a brain blank and totally forgot anyone else existed. Plus! Shen-ge, I have to cater to the player! Bi-represent!”

“If it’s catering to the player, then this isn’t the game to play when it comes to you,” the Qing Jing peak lord grumbles.

He grabs his tea up from the table he sits at and down the entire cup in one go as if it’s a shot.

“You gotta choose!” Shang Qinghua needles, and Shen Qingqiu casts him a glare.

“Goddammit, fine,” he groans. “Um…. Fuck Tianlang-jun—”

Shang Qinghua bursts into laughter.

Shen Qingqiu scowls, but it directly contrasts the grin that is unwillingly stretching across his face. “What? At least I know he’s got experience!”

“Oh my god,” Shang Qinghua gasps, and then waves a hand. “Okay, go on, go on.”

He narrows his eyes at him, and then slowly continues. “Marry Zhuzhi-lang, and kill Sha Hualing.”

“Do you really hate her that much?” Shang Qinghua asks curiously.

“No,” Shen Qingqiu shrugs. “I mean, she’s practically a teenager, and I hate teenagers on principal, but no. She was just the only one left.”

“Fair enough,” Shang Qinghua bobs his head in acquiescence. “Why marry Zhuzhi-lang, though?”

“Well, I can’t fuck him—”

“I mean, you could, you monsterfucker—“

“You’re so goddamn rude, you know that?” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. “He’s just way too…. too baby. I can’t fuck him, so marry it is.”

“Oh, yeah,” Shang Qinghua finally agrees, staring up at the ceiling in thought. “He is just baby, isn’t he? Okay, good choices, I agree.”

“Your turn,” Shen Qingqiu says dangerously. Immediately, Shang Qinghua raises his hands into the air in surrender.

“I can’t play this game!” He whines. “I can’t fuck anybody! That drastically tilts the answer results!”

“Just change fuck to something else!” Shen Qingqiu demands. “You don’t get to just be the one who asks the question every time, that’s boring as fuck. Listen — kiss, marry, kill?”

“Kissing is like, the same as marrying though,” Shang Qinghua squints at the ceiling. He’s lying on his back now, feet dangling off the side of the bed. He gives them tiny, little kicks as he thinks. “Maybe, like, cuddle?”

“Isn’t that the same as kissing?” Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Just use kiss, moron.”

“Fine, okay, fine. So! Kiss, marry, kill… who?”

“Kiss, marry, kill… Liu Qingge, Mu Qingfang —”

“Oh my god, bro, please—”

“Listen, this is my revenge — and Mobei Jun.”

Shang Qinghua turns his head away from the so very fascinating ceiling just to glare at him. Shen Qingqiu feels so special, very loved. “You totally suck.”

Shen Qingqiu stoops down to grab his fan off the floor and flips it open just to smirk over the top of it at his friend. “You gotta choose.” He quotes.

“I fucking hate you.”

“I mean, you could go back to being bored, it’s all the same to me.”

Shang Qinghua scoffs, lifting his legs up and pressing the heels of his feet into the bed. “God, okay! Umm… kiss… uhh…”

Shen Qingqiu presses a hand against his mouth to smother his laughter. “I’ll wait.”

“Why the hell did you make this so hard for me?” His friend grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “You totally hate me don’t you? Um, kiss Mobei Jun—”

“Called it.”

“Shut up, monsterfucker. Kiss Mobei Jun, marry Mu Qingfang, and— oh fuck,” Shang Qinghua sits up and turns toward him, pout out at full force. “There’s only kill left! Shen-ge! I can’t kill Qingge!”

“You gotta,” Shen Qingqiu shakes his head sympathetically. “That’s the game.”

“This isn’t fair! I gave you an easy out on your first go with Sha Hualing, you have to return the favor!”

“You already started choosing!” Shen Qingqiu argues. “Anyone else I give you now is just me choosing a random person for you to kill!”

“I totally forgot kill was a choice after you gave me the names! Shen-geeeee!”

“Goddammit, fine! You can kill Yue Qingyuan, for me, okay?”

Shang Qinghua pauses his wailing to shoot him an amused look, pout vanishing into nothing. What a brat. “You really have it out for that guy, don’t you? Um, alright, sure, I’ll kill the sect leader for you, but only because we’re bros.”

“Don’t turn this back on me! You’re the one who begged me to give you someone else to kill! Anyway, it’s your turn.”

“Haha! Fuck, marry, kill — Rong Qingsheng, Ju Qingsong, and Qi Qingqi.”

“Easy,” Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Fuck Rong Qingsheng, marry Qi Qingqi, and kill Ju Qingsong. At least try and make this hard for me, Shang-ge, c’mon.”

“Wow,” Shang Qinghua sits up again to look at him, tugging one of the thrown cushions into his lap to hold. “No hesitation at all! You decided that so fast… what’s the thought process?”

“Rong Qingsheng is pretty, and not a douche at all, so I’d rate him pretty up there on the fuckable scale just for that. Qi Qingqi is a scary lesbian Amazonian warrior, and if I wasn’t male I’d definitely go for her, but if she ever needed to marry a man as, like, a cover for her true lesbian activities while under the thumb a homophobic dystopian government or something, then I wouldn’t mind submitting my application for that.”

“She can be pretty, uh…” Shang Qinghua makes a face. “I mean—”

“Purposefully provocative because she likes watching macho men squirm when she takes them down a peg and also has bigger muscles than them?” Shen Qingqiu sighs dreamily. “Yes, it’s boss as fuck.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to word it exactly like that, but yeah,” Shang Qinghua admits. “And Ju Qingsong?”

“He’s an annoying pest. Kill.”

“Bro!”

“What? Please, You cannot tell me that you haven’t daydreamed about wringing his neck even once?”

“I mean. He can be kinda—”

“Irritating? Aggravating? Drive-one-to-murder?”

“—But! Under all that he’s a good guy! He can be really sweet, actually! He’s only really like that because he’s got a useless gay crush on—!”

The door is kicked in. Shen Qingqiu startles, dropping his tea straight into his lap while Shang Qinghua gives a loud yelp and falls completely off the bed with a resounding thump.

They both whip around to stare in uneasy and slightly-guilty silence at the group of people standing outside the door.

“Oh my gods,” Ju Qingsong says, face pale and arm still outstretched. “It was so amusing at first, but please don’t kill me, I promise I’ll be better!”

Rong Qingsheng leans around the man and stares at them for a moment, before casting Shen Qingqiu a wink.

“I wouldn’t mind,” the mild-mannered man says, and Shen Qingqiu brings a hand up to rub over his face.

“Not that I’m not incredibly interested to hear what this was all about,” Mu Qingfang says, from behind them, and Shang Qinghua squeaks. “But, it’s time for Shen-shixiong to take his medicine.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Shang Qinghua pleads, holding his hands up to cover his beet-red face.

“I’ll do you one better,” Shen Qingqiu says calmly, pulling off the tea-drenched outer robe. “If any of you eavesdroppers have loose lips about what you heard here, to anyone, then I will kill you. Understand?”

Ju Qingsong makes an odd sound in his throat, one that sounds both terrified and furious, and the way that the man glances between him and the smirking Rong Qingsheng leads Shen Qingqiu to believe he knows exactly who Shang Qinghua was going to say his ‘crush’ was. How adorable. Too bad for him, then, that Rong Qingsheng seems to find him just as annoying as Shen Qingqiu does.

“There will be no murdering of martial family,” Mu Qingfang says mildly, stepping into the room. “Is that water boiled? I thought I’d try the tea blend, since the capsule form doesn’t agree with you, shixiong.”

“Many thanks,” Shen Qingqiu says.

“Oh, it’s never a problem. Shang-shixiong, Qingge was looking for you. I believe he has the location of one of those flying thunder beasts the two of you were discussing the other day?”

“I don’t wanna go monster hunting again,” Shang Qinghua wails. “Why can’t he just play go with me and call it a day?”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome, Shang-ge,” Shen Qingqiu tells him, smiling politely at the betrayed look his friend shoots him. “Would you mind escorting these two out?”

“See if I ever bring you the newest tea leaf export again,” the An Ding lord huffs, climbing to his feet. “Rong-shidi, Ju-shidi, lets go.”

“Qingsheng, Qingsheng, let's play that game too—!”

“I’m not doing this with you, Qingsong. Shang-shixiong, let's go. I wanted to talk to you about next month's produce quota.”

“Sure thing, Rong-shidi!”

“But, Qingsheng—!”

“Bye, Shen-ge, see you later!” Shang Qinghua chines cheerfully as he tugs the moping man after him. Rong Qingsheng walks out ahead of them. “I had a lot of fun today!”

“Sure,” Shen Qingqiu says, fan fluttering before his face.

He’d enjoyed it too, of course, but he’d never say that out loud. Besides, Airplane already knows, right? There’s no need.

[thiswasinevitableid]

since i am obsessed <33333 with the sternclay fill you did for this prompt, can you do 57 with indruck nsfw?

Here it is! Note: this mentions mating talk.

57: we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle

This is it. Duck’s new low. Standing under the high ceilings of Wal-Mart at two in the morning, trying to decide if his dignity can take the hit of someone seeing him scale the shelves to grab the lone leftover bag of valentine’s candy.

Fuck it, those are Ghiradeli caramel squares, he deserves them after today.

Just as he’s choosing his foothold, a large, feathery shape rounds the corner. It figures that the one other customer in the store would need to be in the exact same place as him. He’ll just wait the mothman out.

Duck’s mostly used to seeing random monsters around town; back in the fifties, an interstellar gate opened up in Kepler, making it the home of a small population of cryptids know as Sylphs. When he was younger, he hated the fact he grew up in such a weird-ass place, but these days his brain barely differentiates them from the other Keplerites. They come to the national forest where he works, order their dinners in line ahead of him and, apparently, come to big box stores in the dead of night.

“Ah, excellent.” The mothman chirps, grabbing the bag of caramel squares from the top shelf.

“Hey!”

The antenna-topped head swivels, owl-like, and red eyes regard him with surprise, “Yes? Oh, apologies” he tucks his wings in “I didn’t mean to block your way.

“That ain’t it. I was gonna buy that.” He points at the bag.

The creature cocks his head, “But it was still on the shelf.”

“Yeah, because we ain’t all seven feet tall. I was about to grab it.”

“It’s not my fault you’re short.”

Duck bites back an unkind retort, sighs, “will you just give me the damn bag?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve had a very bad day and this is my conciliation prize.”

“You’ve had a bad day? I went out to a singles night for the first time after gettin dumped a month ago. Figured I’d finds someone to take home, but not a single fuckin person OR Sylph was interested. If anyone needs that candy, it’s me.”

A haughty flick of antenna, “I see your disappointing evening and raise you a reminder that it’s been five years to the day that anyone’s wanted to touch you.”

“Please, this town is crawlin with monsterfuckers, you can’t find someone to mess up those pretty feathers, that sounds like a problem with your personality.”

The mothman chirrs, annoyed, “There’s no need for such remarks. Wait, what was that about my feathers?”

Okay, so maybe Duck has jerked off to mothman porn once or twice. Or a few dozen times. He’s not about to admit that here.

“Uh, I, uh, fuck, I don’t not know, fuck-” he grabs for the bag, hoping to distract the Sylph. It works, but the mothman simply raises it above his head. Duck growls, too committed to his bad idea to back down now, and jumps for it.

A toothy grin, “Since we’re speculating, maybe everyone you encountered tonight was simply in search of a taller partner.”

“Fuck you, I’m five six.”

“What was that? It’s rather hard to hear you down there.”

“That’s it fluffball” He jumps again, fingers grazing the bag before it’s passed to the mothman’s upper set of hands. Mid-leap, he can tell he’s going to fall on his fucking knees, and a broken bone is the last thing he needs. His body acts on panic and wraps his arms and legs around the only stable thing.

“What in the world are you doing?” The mothman trills, lower hands catching Duck’s legs so he doesn’t slide straight to the floor.

“Tryin to get what’s mine.”

“This is ridiculous.” He keeps the candy out of reach as Duck tries to climb him.

“I know, but I ain’t about to let you win.”

“Gentlemen.”

They stop grappling and stare at the beleaguered employee at the end of the aisle.

“Please just get out. Don’t even worry about paying for that, it’s like two bucks and that is not worth dealing with you for.”

They both mumble an apology. Then he lunges up, snatching the bag while his opponent is distracted and bolts for the door. He’s without his car, so he’s half a block from the store when a shadow glides overhead and drops down in front of him.

“That was rude.”

“So was insultin me.”

“You started it.” The cryptid looms over him, “and you only have minor ego bruising to blame for your short temper and poor judgement. I spent the entirety of my day arguing on the phone with government officials until one of them finally listened to me about a dam bursting north of here. I, I deserve something nice.” The last part is said more softly, as if he’s not sure he believes it. That slaps Duck back to his usual sensible state.

Duck sighs, reaches for the cryptid’s arm, “Look man, how about we-”

When his hand makes contact the mothman purrs, then flattens his antenna. Duck runs his hand up the smooth chitin, making the purr double in strength.

“I, I apologize. I didn’t even know this could happen with a human so I did not check the futures for it.”

“For what?”

“I, my kind use playfighting and chase as a mating ritual. Which, combined with those gentle touches just now, means my body thinks you’re a potential partner.”

A thrill creeps up his spine, and he pets the Sylph once more just to hear him purr, “So, uh, what should I do?”

“I suggest you take the candy and” he shudders, “walk home, and we both pretend this never happened.”

“What happens if I run?” Duck sets his hand on the down of the cryptids chest, shivering as it sinks into the fluff.

The mothman looks at him, confusion warring with desire on his face, “I chase you. And since I foresee you asking, if I catch you I will take you then and there unless you tell me not to.”

“Got it.” Duck steps back, smiles when the cryptid tries to follow his touch and then catches himself. He could just walk home and wolf down his hard-won candy. But they’re right by his shortcut through the forest to his house and no one has wanted to chase him for months…

He takes off into the trees.

For the first few yards there’s no sound but crunching leaves and his breathing. Then soft, determined wing-beats glide through the treetops. The canopy is thick here and no one but him knows this path, so he likes his odds of making it home. He even knows where the most troublesome roots are so he won’t trip and lose ground.

Duck’s nearly home when nature betrays him; a deer springs across his path, startling him and sending him to the ground. He scrambles up, listening for signs of the Sylph’s location, but the wingbeats are gone. Did he give up? Is he lying in wait up ahead? Did Duck actually lose him?

The questions spin through his mind as he scans the treetops. There’s nothing, only shadows and bark.

“You know” a voice lilts, coiling around him, “I’d think someone who worked in the woods would know many moths excel at camouflage.”

Red eyes appear in the branches to his right. He gets out a single “fuck” before the mothman swoops down and knocks him into the leaf litter. The candy hits the dirt a few feet away as he’s roughly rolled onto his stomach.

“Holy fuck.” He pants as clawed hands undo his pants and push his shirt up his back, “holy fuUUUuuck, oh christ that’s good.” He rests his head on his forearms as the mothman drags his tongue up his back again.

“Mmmmm, what a lovely little mate I’ve caught.” One set of hands pulls his pants and boxers to his knees while the other caresses his ass, “all dressed up too. I cannot imagine why others passed you up tonight but I am glad they did. Hmmm” claws prick his inner thighs as they’re pushed as wide as they’ll go, “you’re a bit aroused already-”

“Wonder why.” He teases.

“-but I ought to make sure you’re ready to take my cock.” A long, flexible tongue traces circles on his folds. He groans, pushes his hips back in hopes of getting more. The Sylph grants his wish with a purr, thrusting his tongue in hungrily. Duck moans, then snickers into his arms.

“‘At’s ‘o ‘unny?”

“F-feathers, ticklish.” Is what he manages to get out before the tongue curls and finds his G-spot, making it impossible to focus on anything but the being behind him. But the Sylph only gives him a minute of delicious sensation before pulling back.

“There, now you’re ready. I, ah, I suggest you hold on.”

“To whatAHFUCK, fuck, jesusfuckingchrist” his fingers dig into the earth and dead twigs scrape his knees as the Sylph grips his hips and shoves in all at once. The upper set of hands drops to either side of his head as the cryptid hunches over him, snapping his hips while sharp trills and chirps fill the air.

“That’s it sweet one, goodness, years without a partner and the first warm hole I can catch is a tight one, I, I do so love fucking humans for that reason alone, but you, you feel exquisite, ohyes, yesyesyes” he chirrs triumphantly and Duck moans; he’s never been able to feel a partner cum like this. When he glances down his torso, he’s surprised to see the droplets shimmering in the moonlight as they drip down his thighs.

“That was fuckin incredibleAH!” He’s flipped onto his back, the mothmans body blocking out the sky.

“Did you think we were done?” He’s grinning again, the expression as charming as the starlight on his feathers.

“Kinda? Not, uh, not that I mind if you wanna go again.”

“I do.” The cryptid lifts his legs, removing his shoes and clothes as he adds, “again, and again, and again. After all, look how much it likes you” He adjusts so Duck can see his dick. It’s not the size that startles him; it’s the series of ridges on it and the fact that it’s fucking pulsing like it’s got a mind of it’s own.

Duck spreads his legs, “Only it likes me?”

“I’m beginning to share it’s opinion” The tip presses in and the purring intensifies, “though I must say you’ll need to be far more polite and submissive a mate to make up for your--ohgoodness--earlier behavior.”

“Yeah?” Duck smirks, dragging his hands up the soft feathers of his chest, then glides them out to stroke his inner wing “how’s that for a start?”

The Sylph’s chirrs change, growing needier the more Duck pets him, “So very good. No, no one has touched my wings in years.”

Duck studies their sheen, the little speckles of grey and white, and digs his fingers deeper, “Damn shame.”

A soft trill accompanied by three demanding thrusts and then cum spills into him once more.

“Heh, you like when I compliment your feathers? Ohfuckyes” He moans as the Sylph starts thrusting, slower than before but made far more obscene by the sound of his cum being fucked back into Duck’s body.

“I, I do.” He drops his forehead to rest above the top of Duck’s head, “it’s been so long. As you said, this town is full of people who would gladly take a werewolf to bed but have...reservations about one such as me.”

“Their loss” Duck nuzzles the ruff of feathers around the Sylphs neck, runs his hands greedily along his wings, “these alone are so fuckin gorgeous there oughta be a line of folks beggin for the chance to mess ‘em up while they ride you.”

The mothman whimpers, chirps when Duck leans sideways to trail kisses along his right wing. His hips are moving lazily in time with the roll of Duck’s own and he sighs with every thrust, as if Duck is his favorite place to be.

“Got some broken feathers.” He murmurs.

“A peril of fast flights and living alone. It’s better if someone else pulls them free and grooms them for you.”

“I could do that.”

A hungry moan as the mothman noses his hair, “You’re making me wish I hadn’t caught you so soon; had we played longer, my ovipositor would have joined the fun, and you’re so wonderful a mate I ought to lay in you.”

“Jesusfuck” Duck fists his hands into his chest feathers, bucking his hips.

“Oh, do you like that? The thought of being a handsome little hole for me to stuff my eggs in?”

“Yes, holy fuck yes.”

The thrusts turn demanding, “Just one more way in which you’re perfect. You’re strong, you’ve a lovely shape” one hand runs possessively across Duck’s belly and chest, “and it only takes a little bit of vigorous fucking to make you well-behaved and willing to be properly mated.”

“Fuck, fuckin christ that’s goodOH, ohfuckrightthere” one of the ridges is catching his dick, pushing him towards orgasm, “please don’t stop, don’t you dare fuckin stop-”

“Never” it comes out in a growl, “I want to see you be a good little human and cum on my cock while I fill you up. Oh yes, yes” he smiles down at him, “it seems you’re about to oblige meAHhnnnn, goodness you tighten so nicely when you finish” he speeds up, jostling Duck as his climax renders him limp, “yes, yes sweet one hold out just a moment, nnnf, oh, ohyes” He spills into him, Duck’s body unable to contain it all and sending it running down the cryptid’s shaft and the humans thighs. Then the mothman eases out with a low chirp and sits back on his heels.

Duck flops his arms about until he finds plastic, pulling the bag of candy to him as he sits up. He yanks it open, undoes the foil, and freezes. The cryptid isn’t looking at him, isn’t making any noise. He’s just hunched forward, antenna flattening.

“You okay?” Duck finishes freeing the chocolate square.

“Yes” there’s a sniff, “yes I’ll be fine.”

“That ain’t quite what I asked.” He holds the candy out. Antenna twitch, but the mothman keeps his head down.

“I apologize, I, I meant to wait until you left but I, I got overwhelmed. You were so sweet, you let me do all that and I, I don’t even know your name.”

“That’s an easy fix. I’m Duck. It’s a nickname.”

The cryptid finally looks up, takes the offered treat between his claws, “I’m Indrid.” He pops the candy in his mouth and chews miserably.

Duck pulls his boxers on to avoid getting any more pine needle pokes on his ass, then scoots closer, “So, uh, Indrid. Is there somethin special we need for groomin your wings? My place makes the most sense as a next stop, but if there’s a special tool might be better to go to yours.”

Indrid blinks, cocks his head, “You...you want to groom them? I, I thought that was just dirty talk.”

“Can be. But I was serious; now that I got a taste of those wings, I wanna touch ‘em whenever you’ll let me.”

“This is the least likely timeline.” Indrid whispers to himself

“What’d I do in the other ones?”

“Thanked me for a good time and left.”

“See, I thought about that” Duck tentatively moves forward, smiles when Indrid allows him into his lap to stroke his face, “but then I thought, ‘this fella’s fuckin mind blowin in bed, but I wanna get to know what he’s like the rest of the time. Can’t do that if I up and leave.” He offers another chocolate. Indrid eats it out of his hand, then wraps his wings around him.

“I, ah, there’s a special oil for my feathers.”

“Should we go get it?”

“We could. Or” he smiles, hopeful, “we could go to my place tomorrow morning. After we rest at your home and you let me buy you breakfast.”

Duck kisses his fuzzy cheek, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33-Epilogue

Neither Lucy nor Natsu sat through the closing arguments, but according to Gajeel the defense stood firmly on their case for insanity. Touka’s attorney argued that his client suffered from a disorder that should put her in a hospital for treatment, not a jail cell, and not only that, but the so-called victims in the case drove her to do what she did. It was a very risky move to blame the victims. Of course, the prosecution countered that not only did Touka not suffer from any condition but that this was a simple case of jealousy gone wrong. Natsu and Lucy were innocent victims of a selfish woman who tried to kill them. Period, and for that she should go to prison for the maximum sentence allowed.

The prosecutor implored to the jurors heartstrings. “You saw the effects that Ms. Shiromajyo caused to her victims. The tears shed on the stand and the genuine fear in Ms. Heartfilia’s testimony as she recounted the events in question. Ladies and gentlemen, this young woman stared death in the face and watched her boyfriend almost get killed by the defendant. They had to fight to survive! Ms. Heartfilia and Mr. Dragneel have experienced something that no one should ever go through.” He gestured at the timeline board facing them. “Ms. Shiromajyo stalked multiple people over the course of several years to reach her goal, intimidating people that really had nothing to do with her. Ms. Shiromajyo paid a person to kill Ms. Strauss, threatening and intimidating her. And most of all, ultimately took this whole situation into her own hands when all of her efforts didn’t work out. She is a danger to society. I urge you, the jury to give her victims the peace of mind that she’ll be off the streets in a cell getting the treatment that she needs, and the punishment she deserves.”

It was a nerve wracking time for the victims as they waited outside of the court room for the jury to deliberate. Lucy and Natsu stayed in a side room with the prosecutor along with their closest friends and family there to support them. The prosecutor assured them that they’d done their best and the odds were in their favor. But of course, it only took one hold out to cause a mistrial, and Lucy didn’t know if she could go through this again. She was already unhappy that even if convicted, Japan’s sentencing structures were not as stringent as other countries.

The jury deliberated for four hours before reaching a verdict pronouncing Touka guilty of all charges. Upon hearing the guilty decision, Lucy and Natsu slipped back into the court room to hear the final disposition.

“Rise Ms. Shiromajyo.” The judge then read the decision to the standing defendant. “You have been found guilty by this court of two counts of attempted murder that caused injury. One count of kidnapping for profit. And three counts of intimidation. Do you have any last statement to make to the court before I render sentencing?”

Touka hung her head as if resigned to her fate. “Yes...” Surprisingly, to all those in the courtroom, she apologized for her actions. “I see now how much pain I caused to everyone because I couldn’t control myself and I hope one day they’ll forgive me for it.”

But her words of contrition were too little, too late. The judge sentenced Touka to the maximum of the highest offense, which was 15 years with work, but instead of the work condition, imposed a special circumstance that Touka be ordered to undergo mandatory psychological treatment while in custody and to adhere to any treatments and medications prescribed for her own good.

“Ms. Shiromajyo,” the judge spoke directly to the woman. “You’ve apologized at the end, but I hope you truly feel that way. Based on all of the evidence presented in court, your actions were clearly towards a one-sided love affair with a man who wanted nothing to do with you, and for that you tried to punish an innocent woman who got in your way. I do not believe, and the jury agreed, that you do not suffer from a legal defense of mental defect, however you should spend the time in prison to get your mind right again, so that when you re-enter society in the future, you’ll no longer suffer from whatever emotional problems brought you here in the first place. You are very lucky that I cannot under the law sentence you to concurrent sentences for every single charge. Bailiff, take custody of the prisoner. This case is adjourned.”

As the final gavel bang echoed in the court room, Natsu and Lucy who’d made it in time to hear it all, broke down in tears and elation as the court room erupted in cheers around them. A rarity for the poised population. This case was certainly anything but common for Japan, especially because the perpetrator was a woman and journalists had kept the public up to date with its progress. A lot of people were affected by this case personally, but the fear of what Touka had done rang cold for onlookers too. For the public, the idea that someone you may know could harbor ill will and do something this heinous was a scary proposition.

While the case was now over, Lucy knew her own struggles with anxiety were not, despite the tiny relief she’d felt in hearing the words guilty. She’d made it through the trial by sheer determination, but the experience had set her back in her progress. Reliving all the worst events and being grilled by the defense had re-traumatized her. Not all the way regressed, but the nightmares were back anew, starting immediately after her recall testimony.

It wasn’t just the old memories that haunted Lucy, but a new, troubling thought brought out during that testimony. When the defense attorney tried to make her think she was just as bad as Touka, there was a point when she thought... was it true? And the more she pondered, the worst the correlation became despite her loved ones conviction that she was nothing like the woman. Because... why not? If Touka’s deluded mind really believed she was protecting what was hers, well isn’t that the same logic Lucy used to defend herself and Natsu? Then there was the rage she’d felt. Was the attorney, right? If Natsu hadn’t stopped her from beating the woman, would she have killed Touka? Did that mean she had a killer instinct too?

All the publicity surrounding the trial didn’t help one bit. Just trying to get out of the court room after the verdict had been a complete circus of cameras flashing and microphones being shoved in the couples faces wanting their opinions of the verdict. Oh, how Lucy wanted to scream in their faces! How do they think they’d feel?! Yes, it felt great to be vindicated, but 15 years for almost killing them? Where were their assurances that when Touka was released, she wouldn’t pick right back up where she’d left off and hunt them down?

All these irrational thoughts fueling the new regression were different from before. Lucy didn’t feel as anxious. She was a little depressed, but now she was also— angry.

When she arrived at her therapy session without Natsu, Lucy sat on the couch facing the woman with her arms crossed. The therapist was quick to note the way in which she was holding her poise because it wasn’t a comforting arm cross, but a firm one. The muscles in her forearms were tense along with the tight lipped and brows furrowed expression gracing Lucy’s face.

“Well, this is certainly new,” the woman put her notebook down as she spoke. “Something has changed, shall we talk about it?”

Lucy’s hands clenched firmly as her eyes look away slightly. “I had a small argument with Natsu this morning.”

“I get the impression it wasn’t small.”

“Okay! It was a big fight! Happy?!” Lucy’s arms unfurled and gesticulated. “I don’t even know why it got out of hand, but it did.”

“Tell me what happened and let’s figure it out together.”

“Tch,” Lucy crossed her arms again and looked away. “I woke up from a nightmare. He started comforting me like he al—ways does, and I told him to stop. But he didn’t.”

“Why’d you tell him to stop?”

“I don’t know... I was just, irritated.”

“With him?”

“Yes... No— both, I don’t fucking know! Just pissed off, okay?! I was just angry and didn’t wanna be bothered!”

“I see... and how did Natsu react?”

“He, well, um,” Lucy’s shoulders dropped a bit. “He just said okay, I’ll give you space if you want it and left the bedroom. And we haven’t spoken since then.”

“It sounds like Natsu respected your wishes to back off. But why is that making you so angry?”

The therapists question brought instant tears pooling in Lucy’s eyes. She knew why, but she didn’t know why, and holding it in was tearing her apart. But she also didn’t know how to articulate all of the random thoughts plaguing her in a way that made sense. So, at that moment she just broke. Through fitful sobs the cacophony of broken, fragmented thoughts spewed out in no logical manner. Lucy just spoke every word and sentence that came to mind as the therapist sat quietly listening.

This was her first session since the trial had ended, so all of the wounds were painfully fresh. Shouldn’t she be happy it was over? They were free for now and it was time to move forward but all she could think about were the things the attorney had said. And that made her angry with herself. Lucy’s always thought she was so much stronger, yet this experience or rather the effects left her feeling lost and broken, and weak. Even more infuriating for her, she knew these thoughts were completely irrational! It’s one thing to not understand, it’s another to know how stupid it sounded and not be able to fight back against it. Weak. That’s what it made her feel. Stupid and weak for losing herself. They may have won against Touka, but Touka had taken something away and Lucy feared she’d lost it forever.

Who she was.

The therapist moved over to the couch and hugged tightly to a sobbing Lucy, stroking her hair and cradling her head. Comforting in silence allowed the blonde to just cry, as hard as she needed to and release everything that had been held inside where it shouldn’t stay. When the tears slowed, and Lucy’s breathing had the normalized, the therapist spoke softly.

“You’re not broken, Lucy, and you’re not dumb. You’re rightfully in pain after everything you’ve experienced, and that’s okay too.”

“How is that okay?” Lucy sniffled. “It shouldn’t be okay!”

“It’s not fair what you had to endure but being upset and feeling pain because of it means you’re human. Even the anger is a good feeling right now.”

Lucy snorts an annoyed laugh at such a ridiculous sounding statement. Anger being, okay?!

“There are positives we can take from this.”

Again, Lucy huffs. “Yeah, right. That makes a lot of sense.”

The therapist pulls back and settles into a more professional pose to continue. “Your anger means you care. Think about it, if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t get angry, right?”

“I guess...”

“In all these months, this is the first time I am seeing a deep passion coming from you. Lucy you aren’t really lost, and this anger are those feelings screaming ‘I’m still here!’ You can use that same energy to push forward.”

“But what about Natsu?” Lucy’s eyes cloud up. “I think I really made him mad a-and I don’t want to lose him.”

“Did he come with you today?”

“Yeah, he’s in the waiting room.” Lucy mumbled through a frown. “But I think he just came cause he felt obligated.”

The therapists eyes softened along with her tone. “I have a feeling that’s not the case. He might feel hurt and confused right now, but I’m sure he still loves you deeply. Maybe we should bring him in here and talk things over? That way I can help you through it.”

Lucy paused for a moment before nodding weakly. “I’d like that.”

The therapist brought Natsu into the room and as soon as he saw the puffy red eyes and Lucy’s disheveled appearance immediately stumbled over and hugged onto her with tears of his own flowing down, apologizing over and over for upsetting her that morning.

Although Lucy stiffened up at first when he’d hugged her in fear of what he might say, his words instead stunned her. All along she’d felt the fight was her fault, not his. She’d been the bitch to him and now his pain brought her tears back along with a loss of her anger. “It’s not your fault,” she hugged him back. “I was angry with myself and took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

“But I shouldn’t have walked away like I did.”

“No,” Lucy exhaled, “you did the right thing. I... I needed something to wake me up.”

Natsu pulled back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Lucy smiled weakly. “Coming here mad, I couldn’t hide it so she made me talk about it. Now I see how that needed that to happen and I feel a lot better because of it. I was just worried you’d hate me for the way I acted.”

“I could never hate you,” Natsu smiled and cupped Lucy’s cheeks. “I told you, you’re stuck with me.”

By that point, the therapist had gone back to her own chair and with the session almost over for that day, addressed the couple together. “Lucy right now I think you are at a very good point in your progress. Your anxiety had gotten better, the depression is still there, but it’s not as debilitating as it was before, so now it’s time to take the next step in the healing process. You’d mentioned wanting going back to school and the next semester starts in a month. Perhaps it’s time to consider going back?”

“I-I don’t know if I could handle full time...”

“Maybe reach out to the school and see if they’ll work with you on a modified schedule?”

“I guess I could...”

“And I’ll help you,” Natsu added on as he squeezed Lucy’s hand. “They’ve been really supportive so far.”

Lucy let out a long exhale. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

“I’ve got another suggestion too,” Natsu added. “If you get angry, you could take it out with a physical sport or something.”

“That’s actually a good outlet,” the therapist agreed. “Is there anything you’re interested in?”

“Um...” Lucy thought about for a couple minutes. “I thought about taking self-defense classes.”

“That would be cool! Maybe we can go together?”

“I’d really, really like that.” And first time in a long time, Lucy truly meant it.

[tarhalindur]

Rebellion’s Biggest Outstanding Question

(Big fat PMMM+Rebellion spoilers under the cut, natch:)

Homura, at the end of Rebellion, believes that she is rebelling against Madoka’s will.  But is she actually doing so?  Or is she acting in accordance with it?

Let me explain.

I’ll start with the point I’m sold on either way (and have commented on at least twice before, including my explanation of Madoka’s other big mistake): Rebellion is directly downstream of Madoka making a single mistake immediately after her ascension in episode 12, a moment when she could not afford to make any mistake at all.  Much like Madoka’s other big mistake in episode 10, this one is not obvious on the surface and only becomes clear when looking at the events through a symbolic lens.

Specifically, a Buddhist symbolic lens.

I’ll leave the full explanation there to this post, which lays out the Buddhist influence on base PMMM’s themes and imagery and on Madokami’s ascension better than I could.  (Although its author is missing a few points.  First, the shot of Madoka expanding to galaxy size is DIRECTLY out of ego death symbolism.  Which makes sense, because there’s enough accounts to suggest that regardless of whether or not it has any deeper meaning beyond brain chemistry the people who’ve had it are describing a single class of subjective experience, and “one’s consciousness expanding to the size of the galaxy” seems to be a common feature of it - I’ve read at least one account of that kind of experience from, of all people, a random Protestant minister who claims to have had such an experience on a vision trip to the Amazon and only later realized that there was precedent for that kind of experience in Buddhist traditions, and he mentions that exact expansion as part of what he went through.  Second, the flower on Madoka’s bow is a rose, not a willow... which makes sense, because “Guanyin/Kannon and the Virgin Mary are two aspects of the same goddess” has been a theory in certain parts for at least a century, and the rose has a traditional association with the latter goddess - there’s a reason they call it the rosary, after all.  (I’ve seen speculation out of a few polytheist/less orthodox Christian circles I keep tabs on that Pistis Sophia is yet another aspect of the same goddess, too...)  Third, note all the mandala symbolism floating around - most obviously Walpurgisnacht’s appearance and Kyubey’s exposition in episode 11.)

And that influence is important here, because part of the process of the escape from samsara is the breaking of all karmic ties to the world.

Except... Madoka does not do this.  She leaves one karmic tie behind.

This one, to be precise:

Now, in theory it’s possible that the tainted miracle of Homura remembering Madoka has another root.  But I have my doubts, and the biggest piece of evidence there is the OST: the track that plays when Homura meets Junko in the finale and offers to give up the ribbons is named Taenia Memoriae, aka “the ribbon of memories”.  HMM,

(That Junko scene is in this regards the single most enigmatic scene of the main series finale to me.  My instinct is that it’s drawing off of Christian mythos again, either canonical or Gnostic, but I can’t quite place what piece; I kind of want to compare it specifically to the Denial of Peter.)

Now, there’s two other pieces here that are worth noting.

1) While Homulilly is described as the Nutcracker Witch in Rebellion, Homulilly’s name and Witch card are first revealed in the PSP game, and there she goes by a rather different epithet: Witch of the Mortal World, nature is karma.  Which is rather on the nose (the Mortal World [shigan] being another term for samsara), but then that’s probably by design - main series PMMM is not subtle at all when it wants to make a point.  And it is this epithet, not the Nutcracker Witch, that the Doppel versions of Homulilly in MagiReco draw off of, which suggests the staff considered it important.  (There’s a second distinction in the latter, because Moemura’s version of the Doppel implies that Homulilly’s nature was originally slightly different again - Witch of the Mortal World, nature is closed circuits - but I think for our purposes here this is a difference without true distinction, much like the Witch of the Near Shore pun for swimsuit!Moemura’s version of Homulilly.)  And there’s echoes of this even in Rebellion: the Clara Dolls are of course referred to as the Children of the Mortal World, plus of course the obvious “Homulilly’s Rebellion barrier as the Mortal World” take.  (Which, hmm.  Hello second-order symbolism - Homura failing to “break out of the egg” as failure to escape the cycle of samsara.)

2) The red ribbons of course suggest a very specific form of karmic tie - the Red String of Fate.  And you can be very, very sure that the staff intended that, too.  To drag a certain piece of key animation back out from storage:

While it’s hard to tell at this size, it sure looks to my eyes like the two ends are specifically tied around the girls’ pinkies.  You know, exactly where the proverbial Red String is said to be tied.

Or, to put it another way: AI YO.

Everything in Rebellion is downstream of this.

But all this is prologue.  Now that we have established the mistake, we can address the actual outstanding question: Did Madoka intend to make that mistake?  People have noted the applicability of Junko’s comments about intentionally making a big mistake when backed into a corner to Homura’s actions in Rebellion; do they also apply to the action Madoka took that led to that?

I am not sure.  Both cases are consistent, and I’d put about even odds either way.  But it’s the affirmative case I want to lay out here, to show that it does in fact exist:

- Let’s start with the one point someone else might bring up that I don’t really weight: Madoka’s final conversation with Homura in the flower bed.  This one, I think, can mostly be discarded.  We have word from both Kyubey and Sayaka that Madoka does not have her memories here; I can’t see both of them lying here.  (Also remember that Kyubey seems to have restriction that is sometimes said to apply to demons, at least under certain circumstances: he cannot directly tell a lie.  This is of course a very different thing from having to tell the truth, as episode 9 alone is enough to attest, but in this specific case it’s a boost to his credibility.)  If there’s an actual argument here, it’s a second-order one; it is possible, especially given her divine abilities, that Madokami was running a Xanatos Gambit and counting on her amnesiac projection to unwittingly relay her true feelings.  (In which case I would have to grab a certain infamous line from another well-known anime: “Just as planned”.)

- That one shot of Madokami’s gloved, scarred arm reaching down through the window to touch Homura.  Operative word scarred.  (And honestly, looking at one of the subs for that scene again Madoka’s comments there look potentially consistent with her actually supporting of or at least accepting Homura becoming a demon...)

- Mata Ashita, specifically the lyrics thereof.  With the perspective of the full series, Madoka’s character song is fairly clearly from the perspective of Madokami, and it’s suggestive that she is not entirely happy with the results of her wish and ascension.

- The fact that Rebellion happened at all.  There’s a complaint that I’ve seen regarding the mechanics of the Incubators’ plot in Rebellion: logically, by the wording of Madoka’s final wish the Incubators’ plan to use the Isolation Field to block the Law of Cycles should not work, since part of Madoka’s wish was to rewrite any rule or law that would prevent her from destroying Witches with her own hands, including the one the Incubators set up with their Isolation Field - doubly so if you take Madokami’s statement can see every world that ever existed or could ever exist and apply it to the Sealed Reality the experiment generates.  Except... there is one way that argument fails, regardless of anything else: namely, if Madoka saw what the Incubators were doing and intentionally allowed their experiment to proceed.  And at this point there is precedent for her doing something very similar; AIUI in her Magical Girl Story in MagiReco Madokami does something very similar wrt the MagiReco timeline, deliberately declining to destroy it despite its continued existence conflicting with the Law of Cycles.

(- Magia.  This point of argument I’m not convinced of either, but let’s lay it out.  (Honestly, even if I’m right I’m not sure how much of this was consciously intended, but creations can have a life of their own - especially creations where fucking natural disasters delay them so that they’re released on the most appropriate day possible!)  There’s two pieces to this, one I’m more sure of than the other:

1) The visuals.  Here’s the spot where I feel most solid about interpreting Magia: the ED visuals are clearly a reference to Madokami’s ascension.  (The show loves hiding that sort of foreshadowing in plain sight, why would you be surprised?)  Note the second half particularly, both Madoka’s hair lengthening and the starfield she’s running past.  (I think the order of the four other girls in the first half is probably how long they held out without Witching out.)  That leaves two issues, one more obvious to Western audiences and one less so.  First, that enigmatic and ominous shot of Madoka in fetal position (appropriate - her request in 10 and then her wish in 12 can be rephrased as “don’t let me grow up”) in the eye of Mephisto.  Second, there’s a point I’ve seen raised in analyses of Connect: in Japanese cinematography, motion from right to left indicates a correct course (unlike its Western equivalent, where the opposite applies)... and for the entirety of Magia Madoka is moving left-to-right.

2) The lyrics.  This is the part I’m less sold on, but once again let’s lay out the affirmative.  My line here derives from a hunch: Connect is famously from Homura’s perspective despite appearing to be from Madoka’s, perhaps the inverse is also true?  I’m still not sure there, but especially if you’re considering the TV version it can work... provided the lyrics are specifically from Madokami’s perspective again.  Grabbing the wiki version of the translation: “The light of love lit within your eyes will transcend time” sure fits better if we’re talking about Homura rather than about Madoka, likewise “with this power that can break even darkness” sure sounds like a better fit for Madokami to me.  And in that case the most interesting stanza is the second: “Swallow down your hesitation.  What is it that you wish for?  With the direction of this greedy admiration, will there be a short-lived tomorrow?”  The former two lines  are quite consistent with Homura’s decision in Rebellion (and I note the visual of Homura biting down on her Soul Gem to break it!), and “tomorrow” is consistently a reference to the possibility of Homura and Madoka meeting again in other PMMM songs (Mata Ashita again, Colorful, Connect full version) - which is realized courtesy of a greedy admiration, no less.  So.  Magia’s full version might count, too - there’s lines there that are harder to square from a Madokami perspective (”if I can move forward without hesitation then it’s fine if my heart gets broken” especially), but “Someday, for the sake of someone else, you too will wish for great power; on the night love captures your heart, unknown words will be born” fits Homura’s fall better than Madoka’s wish, I think.)

- If Madoka’s mistake in 12 is intentional then it more closely mirrors her (unintentional) mistake in 10: she’s implicitly asking Homura to once again do something she can’t and stop her from/alleviate the effects of her making a mistake.

- At a Doylist level, if they go for a proper happy end (either in Walpurgis no Kaiten or in a hypothetical sequel to the same) I’m not sure there’s any way they can get there without using this interpretation.  (In general, the two outcomes that make the most sense to me are “Akuhomu becomes the core of Walpurgisnacht, cue ending scene with Moemura making her wish” (the Logic Error ending, consistent with the Eternal Return of the Self; cue MagiReco as the way out) or an ending based on the answer to this question being yes - the easy version being a movie of everyone except Homura fighting to let Madoka rejoin the Law of Cycles only for her to surprise everyone with some sort of ending based on “actually, I was counting on her to do this from the start”.)

[jamaiskookie]

How To Ask Your Crush Out: A Guide For Dummies [knj x reader]

⚖ warnings: intense amount of crack and very very trashy writing 

⚖ word count: 3.3k (very smol boi today, just wanted to get this little drabble out)

⚖ genre: crackity fluff; my specialty :-)

⚖ A/N: been preparing for halloween so forgive me for the short fic, i’ve been pUMPING out content for you guys recently. 

masterlist asks 

⚖ synopsis: Prof. Kim Namjoon is pleased and delighted to present his new class: How To Ask Your Crush Out For Dummies; A comprehensive, follow-along six step guide for the introverted and shy. 

A triumphant Kim Namjoon jumps into frame in front of the huge chalkboard in a huge lecture hall, holding a piece of white chalk in one hand and a pointer in the other, with a slightly maniacal grin stretched on his face. His black thick rimmed glasses are crooked and skewed, sitting on the bridge of his nose, completely lopsided. He’s been awake for- oh he doesn’t keep count. Possibly 28 hours by now. 

“Good afternoon, everyone!”  (It’s 6 in the morning, and nobody is in the audience.) He stretches out the long, metal chalkboard pointer, who he has named Bertha, and smacks it against the chalkboard. It echoes through the empty hall. He secretly loves the sound the long pointer makes. It’s so satisfying, and the fact that he got it on Amazon Prime for only like 2 dollars makes the sound so much better. 

“Welcome to today’s class!” He’s still talking to an empty room. It might be the desperation in him, or just his good ole’ friend sleep deprivation fueling his somewhat insane behaviour. “Today I am completely focused on solving the greatest mystery I have ever encountered in my lifetime. Arguably, this is the most scrutinised cold case ever seen in the world. Today we’ll be tackling: How To Ask Your Crush Out. Would anybody like to start off by introducing themselves, their crush, and how long you’ve been infatuated? Hm?” Crickets. 

“Ah, there’s nobody here!” Namjoon exclaims cheerfully, as if he only just realised. He swings back, turning to the chalkboard and continues teaching. “My name is Kim Namjoon, or Professor Kim to you,” Again, completely empty room. “And I have had a crush on Y/N L/N for almost two years now.” His smile falters when he realises it really has been two whole years. Clearing his throat, he smacks an A3 sized picture of a pretty girl onto the chalkboard. 

You are wearing a long cardigan sweater in the photo, candidly reading with headphones wrapped around your neck. Namjoon has written a barely visible small ‘Y/N, October 4th’ on the top corner of the picture. He’s always had a bit of a photography hobby, but his pictures always seem to turn out better when you are the subject. 

It’s a bit odd how you look so much better when you don’t know he’s taking a photo. All the selfies and old pictures from university he has of you are just as beautiful, but there’s something ethereal about you in your natural state. Sitting down and reading a book in a library. That photo is miles better than any of the stupidly extensive photo-ops you plan out for your Instagram pictures. He stares at the photo before turning back to the (imaginary) class. 

“Let me introduce the- as the kids say- lomél. I believe this is an abbreviation for Love Of My Life. L-O-M-L, if anybody wants to write the spelling down.” He swerves Bertha around to point at your picture. “This,” He says, seriously. “Is Y/N L/N, my… my friend since freshman year of university. I have never confessed my feelings to her, despite trying many, many times. Today, we’re going to trouble-shoot and hopefully solve this problem, while examining a shy person’s abilities to socialise and freely have a love life.”  Namjoon ignores the small voice in his head that mentions how a successful Philosophy professor who speaks in front of hundreds of students every day such as himself should be able to say ‘I like you’ to the girl he’s had a painfully obvious crush on for the past two years. 

“Step ONE:” Namjoon yells, writing a big ‘1’ on the chalkboard. “Do not start off a confession by mentioning a Confucius quote if your crush is not in the philosophy or ethics community! They will not understand no matter how obvious it is!” On the chalkboard, he draws an old man with droopy eyebrows and huge beard- Confucius. Then he draws a huge circle around it and crosses it out with a line using so much force he almost breaks the piece of chalk in his hand. 

“In fact, just don’t mention anything about philosophers! And don’t try to confess to them through a math problem, they will not understand!” Namjoon winces. He learned that one the hard way. (He asked you to isolate ‘1’ in ⅓ < 3, which is a seventh-grade level inequality. You had pushed him away and yelled at him for making you do math. The answer to the inequality equation would have been 1 < 3u.) ((1 < 3u = I <3 you. He thought it was pretty obvious.)) 

He draws a subtraction and addition sign and draws another circle, crossing through it. 

“Step TWO!” Namjoon shouts, cringing at the horrible scratchy noise the chalk makes against the board. “If you do get the chance to confess to them and manage to get through without substantially embarrassing yourself, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT laugh and agree if they ask if you are joking! They will! Laugh along with you! While you try! To hide your pain!” 

“I cannot emphasise this enough!” Namjoon is basically screaming by now. He hopes nobody from campus comes in to complain. The picture of you on the board with the symbols that he’s drawn along with the big ‘FLIRTING AND DATING 101’ written on the top of the board could lead to some severe misunderstandings. “Do not laugh if that ever happens again- I mean, if it ever happens to you! It’s more likely than you would think if you are in love with a dumbass! It will happen! Misinterpretations and concerns will happen! Learn from them!” Namjoon writes a huge ‘laughing to hide the pain = bad ❌’ onto the board. 

“Does anybody have any questions?” More crickets. 

“Okay then, moving on!” Namjoon writes a ‘3’ below the notes for step 2. “Step THREE: Confessing via call, facetime, or handwritten letter would be optimal for the average introvert. I suggest a handwritten letter would be best for this kind of confession. Still not ideal, but it gets the job done. Can someone tell me why a handwritten letter would be better than a call, facetime, or anything on the internet?” Without waiting for his non-existent introvert class to respond, he snaps his fingers, a satisfied look on his face. “That’s right! Facetiming or hearing your crush’s voice would be too nerve wracking and inevitably, you’ll mess up and say something like ‘Did you know that Barbie’s real name is Barbara Millicent Roberts’ instead of ‘I’ve liked you for two years’...  I do not speak from experience.” 

Awkwardly, he clears his throat again, averting his eyes from literally nobody. “Texting would not be good! Texting is considered insensitive and is not a good way to confess your feelings. If the idea of a face to face confession is too intimidating or not ideal in your introverted situation, the aforementioned options would be your best choices. I strongly advise you to stick to those three. In order of a likelihood for a successful confession, it goes: Letter, facetime, then call.” He writes ‘letter > facetime > call > speaking in real life (?)’ on the board.

“hoWEVER,” He says, pointing at the large ‘3’ he wrote with Bertha. “If you do end up choosing to write a handwritten letter- write this down, this is an important note- do NOT forget to sign your name! Your crush will end up throwing it away thinking it’s a random admirer or a prank. MAKE SURE TO WRITE THIS DOWN!” On the board, he writes down ‘My name → Kim Namjoon.’ He nods thoughtfully. “Yes,” He says. “It’s important to write your name.” He mutters it over and over, staring glazed at the words written on the board. 

Close to bursting into tears, he grabs a hold of his hair and cradles his head in his hands. “Why didn’t you write your fucking name, Namjoon?” He frustratingly mutters to himself. Sighing, he puts his hands on his waist, marvelling at what he’d written so far. The peaceful silence doesn’t last for very long. 

“STEP NUMBER FOUR!” It’s not like him to be so loud. It’s probably a good, balanced combination of his lack of sleep and being alone with his inner thoughts. He’s pretty sure he has an alternate personality who thinks he’s Freud. Freud occasionally throws in some pretty deep psychoanalysis prompts for him to consider when he can’t sleep. 

“If… And only if you build up the courage to ask her out in person-! Well, firstly, congratulations, we’re all very proud of you. Secondly, do it in public! You might be thinking, Professor Kim, why on earth would I want to do it in public? Getting rejected in public is so much more horrible!? Well, BELIEVE ME, UNBELIEVERS- Getting rejected in public is sO much better than getting rejected in private! Due to our tendency to not draw attention to ourselves and the way we like to shrink in public, it’s much more likely that we won’t break down in tears if we get rejected in public! Well, once you get back home, you might start breaking down, so maybe this is just a temporary solution, but it’s still better than sobbing in front of your crush when you devastatingly get rejected!” 

Knitting his brows together, Namjoon corrects himself. “Not when you get devastatingly rejected, sorry. If. If. Yes, if. If you get devastatingly rejected. Come to think of it, in a purely logical way, you have a 50/50 chance of succeeding in your confession. ‘I like you, do you like me?’ That’s a yes or no question, isn’t it? A confession is exactly the same as flipping a coin! You have a 50% chance of getting heads, 50% chance of getting tails. Either way, you get on with your life despite getting heads or tails. So… the odds are kinda in your favour!” 

“Except when you flip a coin, you wouldn’t get nervous to the point where you accidentally push the coin into a mud filled pond where the coin’s favourite shirt got ruined so then the coin proceeded to ignore you for the next two weeks, making it the most miserable two weeks of your entire life… But that probably won’t happen again.” Namjoon mutters underneath his breath.  “Coins don’t wear shirts anyways.” Somehow, that seemed to comfort him. He writes down ‘coins can’t wear shirts’ on the chalkboard. 

“Step number FIVE!” Namjoon shakes his head, taking a sip of the espresso that’s been sitting on his desk for hours. “What was step number five agai- oh right. Step number five: look your best!” Namjoon catches sight of his reflection and winces. “Okay, maybe I don’t have a great example right now.” He reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair, almost puking when he feels the amount of grease and gunk buried in his scalp. He should probably shower. And get some sleep. His eye bags do not look very attractive right now. Maybe he should get a haircut too, it’s kinda getting wild up there. In his own defence, he’s been standing in this exact pair of sweatpants and glasses for the past couple hours, so he smells a tiny bit. Don’t girls like it when guys wear grey sweatpants? Frowning, Namjoon makes a mental note to do some research later on. 

“Shower, change, put in contacts, cologne, flowers…” Namjoon starts writing a to-do list onto his small notebook. “Would she like flowers, actually? Is it misogynistic of a guy to bring flowers or is it just a cute, nice gesture? Am I overthinking this?” His phone vibrates in the middle of his feminism breakdown, and he pats his back pockets before realising his phone was across the table. He grunts as he leans over to pick it up, and thoughtlessly, he accepts the call and brings it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Your voice is both a comfort and a shock to hear so early in the morning. He can already see you sighing aloud and scrunching up your nose cutely, a habit you picked up from him himself. He does it when he’s embarrassed, but you do it when you’re angry. It doesn’t really work because now whenever you get mad he just swoons and gushes over your cute nose and chubby cheeks. 

“aH- Um… What time is it?” Namjoon fumbles around, jumping up. 

“It’s like 7 in the morning? Hello, you promised to come workout with me today? Come open your door, I’ve been ringing your doorbell for forever, but I think it’s broken. I’ll call the repair guy for you later.” Namjoon lets out a nervous laugh, guiltily looking at his shoes even though he knows you can’t even see what he’s doing right now. 

“It’s already seven? Wow, time flies really fast. I’m- ” He yawns, bringing the phone away from his ear for a moment. “- really tired.” A beat passes by. How is it possible that he can hear you get angry at him from here?

“Namjoon.” Another awkward laugh rings through the lecture hall. 

“Ahahha. - Yes?” 

“Are you at work right now?” You ask, voice suddenly turning stone cold. 

“Um, well, that’s a debatable question. See, is it really, honestly my work if I love doing it? Sure, it makes me a living, but of course I don’t consider it to be my workplace, you know? Like, I get to come in and do what I love every single day, educating the next generation. It’s actually a really bad mindset because once you refer to your job as ‘work’ you don’t-”

“Namjoon.”

“Okay yes, I’m at work.” He relents, pushing his glasses up and sighing. 

“Joon, it’s seven! Like, seven in the morning! Have you been in there since you clocked in yesterday morning?” You ask worriedly. 

“Uhh, I think so?” To be honest, he’s been here for two nights already, crashing out on a beanbag and brushing his teeth in the staff bathroom when he needs to. 

“Namjoon!” He mumbles out an apology. “What the hell could you have been doing in there? You don’t even have that many classes this week!” Namjoon lets his eyes trail over to the chalkboard, then back down to his notebook. 

“Uh… it’s kinda complicated?”  

“Okay, okay, I’ll come home now, don’t worry!” He says, even before you can demand he take care of himself. Sometimes, you’re just a teensy bit overbearing. It’s a messed up miracle he managed to fall in love with you in the first place. 

“Be careful, okay? It’s flu season, too, so you really can’t be this reckless! You’re literally going to drive me into an early grave, for fuck’s sakes. You’re always fussing over how overworked I am, so how could you not take care of yourself? That’s so hippo- hypo- ugh, what’s the word?” 

“Hypocritical.” Namjoon says into the phone while packing up his things. 

“Hypocritical, yes. You better be here in ten minutes or less, Kim. Come home, take a shower and then sleep. I’m guessing you have done neither of those things since yesterday.” Namjoon doesn’t have the decency or humility to give you an honest answer, so he just stays silent. His eyes are still fixed on the chalkboard. Where was he at when your phone call interrupted? Ah, yes. Step number six: ‘I love you.’ Step number six was a piece of advice he had gotten from Min Yoongi, a music theory professor who taught just a couple minutes away from Namjoon’s office. He’s been dating Jung Hoseok, another mutual friend of Namjoon’s, for a few years now. 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi just blinked when Namjoon asked him, stared blankly at him, lips threatening to pull up into a smirk. 

“What do you mean, ‘What do you mean’?” Namjoon said, huffing. “How did you confess to Hobi?” 

“Bro,” Yoongi said, now freely laughing at Namjoon. “If you can’t confess to her, just wait until you get around to thinking about proposing. Never been more nervous in my life, swear to god.” Namjoon had never been a violent type. Up until he met Yoongi. 

“Just- tell me how you did it, would you?” Yoongi gave a rare, small smile and beckoned him closer. He leaned in, about to tell Namjoon a big secret. 

“Just say it.” He whispered into Namjoon’s ear. Namjoon rolled his eyes, pulled away and rested his head on the sofa. 

“That’s the most useless thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“No it’s not!” Yoongi also leaned back into his seat. “Just say it. ‘I love you.’ It’s nothing difficult. Just say it!” Namjoon scoffed and left, but Yoongi called something out while he was walking away. “Hey, you’re going to lose her if you don’t do anything.” Namjoon froze, but continued to walk. Yoongi watched, two seconds later, amused as Namjoon came rushing back in, sat himself down on the sofa and demanded Yoongi tell him everything he needed to know. 

Thus, his six steps were born. 

If Min Yoongi, a person who is possibly even more shy and even more introverted than Namjoon, (Which is a big feat) can ‘just say it’, he should be able to do it easily. Namjoon nods to himself, rolling his head back and cracking a neck bone. 

Taking a deep breath, he speaks into the phone. 

“Hey, I have something to tell you.” 

“It can wait,” You say. It’s so like you to ruin a love confession, Namjoon thinks, laughing. “Come home, go sleep for a couple hours, then we can talk. It’s not important, is it?” He stares at the chalkboard, letting out a satisfied exhale. 

“Nope.” He says. “Not that important. I’ll tell you later.” 

“Okay,” He hears you grunt from the other side of the phone, shuffling around. “Hey, I’m gonna hang up first, I’ll wait for you to get here. Where’s your spare key again?” 

“Underneath the compartment in the hanging plant. Yeah- the one above the front door.” He hears the familiar jingle of his keys and your adorable ‘a-ha!’ from the phone, and his smile stretches wider. 

“Ohh, okay, got it. Thanks! You don’t mind if I go in first, right?” 

“Nah.” 

“Okay, bye!” Before he says it back, you hang up, and he’s left with an annoying beeping sound that repeats in his ear. He misses you, Namjoon muses to himself. He hasn’t seen you for much too long. Happily, he skips to the back of the lecture hall. (which he then immediately regrets when he finds out his legs don’t work properly after staying in the exact same position for hours without end.) He doesn’t even mind that you’ll see him in this horrendous state if he gets to see you fuss over him again. Your soft side coming out is like spotting a rare bonsai tree on sale in a run-down store- extremely special and only happens once in a while. 

Okay, that analogy was really bad, he just really wanted to mention his bonsai trees.

He spares one last glance to the filled chalkboard. With good luck, nobody will walk in and see that mess all over the board. He’d probably get fired. 

“I love you.” He says to himself. Maybe Yoongi was right. It does sound pretty easy. Namjoon walks out of the lecture hall, switching off the lights and running off to see you. 

Kim Namjoon’s Six Steps Towards Confessing Your Love: Introvert Edition

Do not refer to anything academic or clever in your confession. 

Do not laugh when they ask if you are joking once you confess. 

Letter > facetime > call

Confess in public. 

Look your best!

Just say it. 

⚖  wanna talk to professor!joon? or add yourself to the taglist?

[smallestclowninthecircus]

Season 3 notes popping off

due to my desire to not completely fail all my classes this year i made myself slow down significantly while listening to this season, and the fact that the other person i'm listening along with had to catch up. We've managed to convert several other people to start listening and its pretty great.

ep 81: what does it even mean to be chosen by one of them? And if he was chosen by the eye. we know Gertrude wasnt? Because she cut the eyes out of the magazines?

ep 82: elias lmao. I understand why people like him so much bahshdhdk i thought he was gonna snitch on Jon but he didnt so he's fine. Ok but how do we think he knew all that stuff. Idk probably just institute connections. I love the fact that the recorder just wants to record stuff randomly bjahsjdhd. Elias feels a lot like Michael in the sense that he knows more than he should and talks in a way that implies he just wants to wait and see how things play out for his own benefit. I understand him knowing the things that happened but his description of her emotions implies something paranormal. Maybe he's connected to one of the entities. Which one I cannot guess.

ep 83: did a file get delivered randomly to the place he's staying at? Probably elias lmao. He thinks the mannequin is related to the stranger. Idk I would believe it.

ep 84: worms? I know he says earth worms but idk. Again? Is she making gordon golems out of trash? Martin popping off. You can tell the statements get to him more that they get to Jon. How come martin is so mad about it? I want to assume he just doesnt want her to get stuck there but idk. Jude Perry. The calliope organ. Jon heard a circus in one of the last episodes

ep 89: he's talking to perry? Like jude Perry? He says ... God? Is that what it is? Lmao. The Desolation. Jon is tired of ppl being vague and not telling him stuff lmao. Oh God Jon is so confused. Compel her? Is she assuming he has some kind of power? Does he have powers? Hmm. im agreeing with jon here please jesus christ why does everyone have to be so cryptic. Just say what you mean. "maybe you get an itchy eye" bahasjkdfklsjdf girl what. Agnes saved her? Oh this is the girl from the cafe story? So theres the Cult of the Lightless Flame? They worship whatever entity this is? The Desolation? Why do they all seem like they sorta worship her then? Is Gretchen gonna die oh god. fuckin michael. a different michael aaah. i see. dont do it shes gonna burn you. sir. please. sir dont you dare do- WHAT DID I SAY what did you think was gonna happen hhh.

ep 90: try to make it less obvious you're trying to get fired big T. Elias that doesnt sound like the most healthy thing to do. oh dear is this gonna be triggering for me. uuuuuh. uuuuuuuuuh. doesnt seem like it ok gonna keep listening. Jared. hmmmmm. Ok we've seen Keay and hotner or whatever his name was.

ep 91: Michael Crew. Oh is this the lightning scar guy. Mister jon sir did you just die. No? God everyone is so fuckin cryptic. Say normal things please. They all just like to go on about pain and agony and j e s u s c h r i s t we get it you got hurted by whatever thing. So theyre avatars? question mark? Jude Perry is an avatar of The Desolation? hhhh fractals. thats a spiral thing innit. Yup. messing with your perceptions. God they all talk about feeding their god and feeding that which feeds them and. hh what does that meann. Leave big J. please. uh oh. is it daisy? how come he has the web lighter still? the tape recorder just turns on sometimes you know how it is. So he can compel people? not that he knows it obviously but. a bit wack. powers go brr i guess? If the eye just wants knowledge i guess he feeds it by getting the statements? b/c i doubt it wants him to murder ppl or whatever.

ep 92: elias you all knowing fuck what do you know. (i guess all given what i just said) Lukas. Heard of them before. Mordecai Lukas. Loneliness. The lonely even. Jonah Magnus. Elias ur sounding like a bit of a dickhead rn. lmao jon's just like "i dont care" elias what is ur deal. Why does he want to tie her in. ohh i see. lmao theyre all just like "elias why" The Unknowing lol seems very much like something the eye wouldnt like. lol elias is gettin all philosophical. what does it really mean to be human. this still doesnt answer why gertrude wanted to destroy the archives tho.

ep 93: bahsjdfh he seems so dead inside rip. awww admiral. i love him already. ghh breacon and hope. purple mold. doesnt sound like anything we've seen so far. I think the funniest explanation for breacon and hope is that they dont actually serve the stranger they just kinda happen to be a random neutral party that cart around random spooky entity related stuff. ooooh. when we hear the slight static of the tape recorder it's cuz he's compelling ppl.

ep 94: the end! listen man they were all just grayed up for 4/13.

ep 95: the end also? death but also savagery/ animalistic shit. aww martin. lmao becerra. she's just been chillin in the corner.

ep 96: return to sender. haha minecraft go brr. prediction: breacon and hope? yup there we go. jon why is there an echo. are you in a stairwell? is he gonna eat it- yup. how did i call it. unsure abt what theyre talking about but ok. they kidnapped someone? Sarah Baldwin. ooooh that guy.

ok im just putting this here so i have notes for when nicholas gets to this part. It seems like (from jon's conversation with jude perry) that the desolation and the eye are kinda at odds with eachother? like i guess not directly but it seems like they dont really vibe? so how could be with both. Cuz if he has the heat powers and shit then we know he's an avatar of the desolation. but then why does he have so much eye imagery. also he got burned intentionally? like jude did when she went on her monologue about the feeling of burning? but then why did he wear the eye pendant. it stops him from being burned all the way which seems like he's not fully accepting the fire or whatever.

Nooooo I lost like a bunch of my notes rip. I keep forgetting to save.

Ep 104: tim gives a coherent statement without jon even being there. Ugh. Fucking robert smirk. Dont like him. Joey. Dont recognize the name. The show must go on. Clown. The spooky circus?

ep 105: total war... shogun 2? jon is just understanding languages again. "if i understood mandarin or cantonese" are you sure you dont big man?

ep 106: havent we heard this one already? mans in space? oh no this is just another episode in space. fairchild... uuuh. cant remember. oh! this is related to that! this is one of the ppl from the other side. sounds like a Vast thing. oh he's the one that the dude saw? but that guy didnt have a face... she's sorta like jon. wanting to dismiss the statements. lmao i love the workplace gossip. ace jon for the win! oh cmon elias dont be a dick. sunny meadows or whatever. thats the place we heard about.

ep 107: oh great is it jude perry again. Third Degree. bahahsdkfj she was arrested. sorry but imagining this old british lady getting arrested is funny. she was trying to resurrect him. using the skin book. he's not feeling well. jon take a nap. i wonder if this is what happens when he uses his powers too much. He gets into The Zone when he reads statements lol. didn't we have a burning train car in anothre statement? is it julia fairchild? bahahahs "kidnapped. Again." poor jon honestly. julia... about her dad. daughter of the murder shed guy? hunting like your dad liked to hunt or normal people hunting. oh hunting vampires!

ep 108: melanie has been suffering. poor martin peter lukas why do you have to be like this. can he not just use the front door? does he have to bother the ppl doing statements?

ep 109: how come he cut her off? kinda rude tbh. its either jon's influence or there was smth he didnt want her saying. is it gerard on the table? this sounds kinda like smth from one of the university episodes. is it the closed eye on the hand? yup. he's like one of the students! if the thing listening in is elias then... he can do that without the tape recorder yknow. plus who's to say it wont just turn itself on again

110: who wants to bet its a leitner?

111: Lukas related to The Lonely. I used to not like Gerard that much but i like him more now. but i thought there were 15? ohhh thats right isnt flesh newer? gerry for the win honestly. finally telling jon things.

112: lol "again" no one ever tells any of these ppl anything. tim and basira are just out of the loop constantly. music, like the war episodes. The hunt or the slaughter? probably the hunt. so Daisy is related to the hunt right? basira likes the reading, she's doing fine at the institute. daisy's getting worried...

113: it just turned on randomly. what is it lol. explossives! oh boy. why do they always assume he turned it on intentionally. melanie youre not making me like you that much. which entity is this about i cant tell. lol he was disappointed it was just the end. The title Breathing Room made me think it was gonna be about the buried but i guess not. So many of these entities deal with death but the end is one that deals in just death. it has no need for fancy deaths, just death is enough

114: more hilltop road statements? the tree. oh boy. ok the tree has 8 arms obviously theres the spider parallels. was she taken into an alternate universe? oh no. jon tries to phrase things so he's not asking questions. thats honestly good. "sometimes i was kidnapped" oh dear. they got gertrude. daisy ur so odd lmao. who wants to bet they dont know the tape recorder's running?

115: silaca? or whatever? antique man? meat grinder... related to the meat is meat episode? oh wow. they buy antiques from him. maybe dont antagonize this creature which can kill you?

116: lol theyre all just so done with elias. music? is it like the one band that if you hear them you die or wtvr. oh its chess? i am very much confused. mmm stranger go brr. gorilla skin? oh shit the dance. woah. this is so good. this is so gender. the words are wonderful. "you can just say tim" lmao trying to fool elias never feels like a good idea.

117: except elias lmaoo. oh shit. leitner getting some use for once idk. bruuh poor melanie she has been thru so much shit. martin you can just say youre worried about jon. lol he's so accurate in his jon impression. lol who was that. was that daisy? lmaoo. oop hi tim. oh god i hope tim doesnt die. i feel like i wouldve heard about that? but im not sure. destroying the source of knowledge is gonna be hard for jon. yay jon! you did a good thing. let him rest.

118: go off martin lmao. awww poor martin. oh god the tape gets that squealy quality and its awful.

119: woah. lots of things happening. uhh. POP OFF TIM!!

120: lmao elias giving a statement about jon's dreams lol. damn jon doesnt even get his own dreams? has to stay Watching even when he's asleep? f in the chat this man goes thru so much shit. oh boy its peter. lol martin my beloved. idk i dont trust peter.

[hazzabeeforlou]

Fine Line Masterpost:

A breakdown, musically and lyrically 

In Fine Line, ‘raw honesty’ doesn’t really mean delving into the details of who Harry Styles is sleeping with, but rather it’s a glimpse into the world of a 25-year-old who is both deeply in love and who fucks up a lot; he’s given to sugary supplications, is plagued by jealousy, pouts at consequences, and struggles with understanding an inner self that keeps prodding him towards exploration of his identity.  

The album is constructed to be consumed by various factions of the fandom. There’s no getting away from the surface dedication of HS2 as an ode to a blonde supermodel with a delicious French accent whose new boyfriend’s father owns a gallery, a girl who has golden hair and blue eyes. I won’t be arguing that away, because it’s intentional, it’s meant to be the surface layer. 

The mantle is not the crust, though. Taken individually, each song can be seen as speaking to the queer experience in varied and complex ways, and I’ve seen some truly beautiful explorations of this angle. Especially with TPWK and FL, the anthemic solidarity with queer experience is astounding and gorgeous. I think it’s no accident that this broad take holds true as we zoom in and look at the complex details; Harry has written songs that speak both to this meaning and also hold incredibly personal and intimate significance between him and a partner (in this post we’ll call them Subject). 

I will be focusing on the album as a cohesive narrative in the context of it’s chronological, linear progression. Fine Line details an incredibly personal struggle; it’s a love letter, an at times embarrassing, self-loathing reflection on a love gone wrong, a love struggling, an emerging self, and a hope redeemed. 

Please feel free to ask questions if any of the technical stuff is confusing, but please also remember that these are my opinions, coupled with my analysis as a professional musician (meaning, hopefully I’m remembering those torturous years of theory dictation correctly!) 

Side A 

All four songs share an off-kilter-ness, a restless, unsettled, frantic feeling, as if Harry is balancing, undecided between throwing himself at the feet of the one he loves or pulling away. This is no illusion; the tonic base is missing from each song save WS (but even here the tonic is sabotaged in our ear, as we’ll discuss). We’re on a journey to side B; we start with a hope that sweet memories and lust can salvage love, and we end with Harry going his own way.

Golden: There are only two chords in this song, DM and CM7, the V and IV7 of the implied tonic, G Major. We never get to tonic though. We never touch that home base. The songs “da da da’s” give it a happier, peppier illusion than the text reveals. 

Harry is already broken, already reflecting and hopeless as the song begins. His intended listener, Subject - the sun, the golden one - waits for him in the sky, and is all he’s ever known. Subject has always browned his skin just right, but now, Harry reflects, perhaps has been too bright for him. (Is some aspect of Harry buried in the brilliance of Subject’s light?) This golden Subject is scared, though, scared Harry is so open. Harry doesn’t want to be alone, but he also needs to peel back edges of himself previously unexplored. Stepping into and away from light is a major theme for Harry, and this opening song sets that precedent. Subject is scared because “hearts get broken,” but Harry’s heart is already broken, so perhaps this refers not to interpersonal heartbreak, but situational. Harry recognizes he’s “out of his head...” BUT, he counters, “Loving you’s the antidote!” He naively gushes out poetry while Subject remains unconvinced. We establish an impasse. 

Watermelon Sugar: The Dm - Cm - Am6 - GM chord progression is an odd one; my best guess is that the song is in D minor, so the progression is: 

i, VII, v, IV

 That’s not typical in a minor key. Usually the leading tone note (in this case a C) is raised (so C#) making the five chord Major (V) not minor (v) and the seven chord diminished (viio) not Major (VII). also the Major IV ignores the B flat in the key signature of D minor and instead uses B natural. So all this to say that the tonic base STILL doesn’t feel like a tonic home, because the normalcy around the key signature is erased. Everything still feels unsettled, unresolved. 

Much has been made of the oral sex interpretation, so, ya. This is a song about remembering the best of times, a prayer to Subject, a plea for summertime and bellies and strawberries, and a feeling Harry is desperate to get back. 

Adore You: The three chords in this song, Cm - BbM - AbM, imply an E flat Major key, so vi, V, IV, respectively. The tonic, Eb (I), is (once again) never used, and instead vi, V, IV circle without ever coming to rest. 

Subject, “Honey,” creates a rainbow paradise. This is another love letter to Subject, let me adore you, I’ll walk through fire for you, you don’t have to say anything just listen to me, you don’t have to say you love me too, just please, please... you’ve been on my mind. Let me adore you like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do. By this wording, Harry admits that adoring Subject is not the only thing he ever does, yet he wishes Subject to remember, or imagine, this false reality. 

Lights Up: We’re in C Major here, with the chords Am - GM - FM, creating the same exact chord progression as Adore You, vi, V, IV. We (yet again!) never reach the tonic of C Major. It’s a constant tease of resolution, but there’s no solid home base. We’re suspended in limbo. 

Subject is “sorry, btw.” What does that mean, Harry asks? Sorry we’re here in this place, that this is happing? This song is Harry’s declaration: he’s not staying, he’s not coming back down. It would be sweet if things stayed the same, but no, I’m stepping into the light. “All the lights couldn’t put out the dark”... even all the golden sun of Subject couldn’t heal the void in Harry’s soul?  Harry asks subject, do you know who you are? implying that he’s determined to answer this for himself. I’m reminded of the crab in Moana, singing “Shiny.” There’s a certain bravado here, a reckless glittery happiness, a flaunting, an exuberance in discovery. 

Side B 

Tonics are all over the place. Harry is certainly certain about heartbreak. No ambiguity here. 

Cherry: GM - Em - CM, or  I, vi, IV. We’re in G Major and we know it. Repetitive “cou-cos’s” pepper the track like hanging fruit (let’s imagine from cherry trees). 

The song is a simple one, simple in its jealousy. Harry has let Subject go, and now Subject is at their best... and Harry hates it. He doesn't want his former pet term of endearment used on another, even though he has no claim on Subject’s actions anymore. Harry keeps finding bits of Subject in how he dresses. They’re not talking lately, and Harry perhaps is most upset that this separation isn’t going how he planned... Subject is at their best without him. 

The gallery line is inserted as a bridge, a unique line of music rather separate from the rest, an intentional narrative. But what’s most fascinating is the end of the song. The previous repetitive chord progression changes. Now we have 

GM - AM7 (an added C#) - Am7 (4/2 inversion) - GM

or I, II7, ii7, I

The “cou-cou” lands during the AM7 (the II7) and it lands EXACTLY on the note of B, extending the 7th chord to a ninth chord, before, on its second syllable, dropping to the A and holding there (a kind of suspension) while the chord progression resolves to the Am7 (ii7), making the A a chord tone. This is deliberate. Unless the whole piece was harmonically built around Camille’s random use of a B to A in a voicemail (also randomly in the perfect key for Harry’s voice) this was purposely recorded for aesthetic effect. I for one really love it, I could listen to breathy french girls mutter about beaches endlessly...

Falling: A straightforward progression. In the key of E Major,

 EM - C#m - BM - AM or I, vi, V, IV

With Falling, the only ballade on the album, we see Harry shift from jealousy to self destructive behavior. I don’t believe the ‘wandering hands’ line is about cheating (he and Subject were already apart) but rather, Harry seeking to wound Subject by turning to others. Communication is back open, because Subject says they care, they miss him too, but now Harry’s gone and fucked it all up. What have I become? What if Subject never needs me again? I can’t unpack the baggage they left. I just want Subject AROUND! Harry isn’t even begging for a romantic connection, he’s simply begging for Subject’s presence. He was so sure he could discover himself in LU, and now he keeps asking, what am I now? Who has he become on his own? He’s falling, and there’s no one to catch him. 

To Be So Lonely: This song waffles between two keys, just as Harry waffles between defending himself to Subject and finally, finally admitting (in just one small line) that he is, in fact, sorry. The song seems to start out in C Major, with CM and Am chords (I, iv) but then at the chorus the Am chord elides from a iv to a i, revealing the key is really A minor. The chorus goes on to be:

Am - GM - Em - FM 

or i, VII (lowered leading tone in minor), v (lowered leading tone in minor), VI

A fluttering mandolin mimics a fluttering heartbeat, and a folk music lilt gives the song a certain feel of heartbreak. 

Harry asks for Subject to not blame the drunk caller, likely himself. Harry was away. He missed Subject. He was just a little boy when he fell, and presumably Subject caught him that time. Subject is trying to be friends, they mean well, perhaps have taken pity on him, but Harry cannot stand to be called baby now, not when that name doesn’t mean what it used to, not when it’s a hollow word. Harry’s ‘home’ is suddenly a lonely place, but Subject has his reasons for how he’s acted, presumably good ones, and finally Harry gives his mea culpa, “this is it, so I’m sorry.” 

Interestingly, only after admitting that he’s made mistakes too, that he’s not perfect, that he shares the blame, does Harry confront and open himself to the realization contained in the next song, the heart of the album and the crux of what Harry’s been dancing around up until this point. 

She: In E minor, both verse and chorus use the same progression:

Em - DM - CM - Am - (Bm, a quick lead-in to) - Em 

 or i, II, VI, iv, v (no raised leading tone), i 

This Bowie-esc sounding song is the first to have characters. In addition to the Subject (perennially addressed as ‘You’) there is The Man and She. I would argue The Man and She are both Harry, a duality. The man drops his kids off at school, the man is thinking of You, like all of us do (everyone thinks of their SO perhaps). The Man goes through mundane daily tasks, but is he faking it? Does he really know what to do? He’s playing pretend, so pretend. 

Now Harry introduces She. (When speaking of She, Harry sings in a high falsetto.) She lives in daydreams, she is the first one he sees, and Harry doesn’t know who She is. A Woman just in his head, who sleeps in his (a jump up to the falsetto for just this one word in the verse) bed while he plays pretend. Much has been said about the gender/fluidity discovery in this song, and by better than me. It’s clear what Harry is saying, it’s clear what he’s going through and wrestling with. He’s thinking of Subject, but also haunted by She, in his head, in his mind’s eye, in his daydreams. She is a part of Harry, and Harry wants to know who She is. 

Side C

Uncomplicated tonics! All Major! A shift into happiness perhaps? 

Sunflower: F Major. BbM - FM - CM, or IV, I, V.  The bridge is fancy:

iii, IV, V, vi, I, V vi, V (vi?) V 

Some trippie hippie song from the 60s! Two lines of thought are apparent from the get go; Harry says he wants to get to know Subject, but then says “before I got to know you.” It’s as if this is a new beginning, like he and Subject are starting over. Much is made of the ‘seed’ thing, a metaphor for new life and rebirth, “plant new seeds in the melody.” Harry is trying hard not to talk to Subject, to not seem eager, not act a fool. He was just tongue tied, then he’s still tongue tied, implying he’s done this whole dance before. He implores Subject to hold their sweet memories: domestic times, kitchens, kids. In Golden, Subject was the sun. Now Subject is a sunflower, hung up high in the gallery, out of the shade, in the light a sunflower needs to thrive, into the light, step into the light. Little gasps from Harry interject throughout; is he surfacing from water (LU music video?), is he breathing between kisses, is he suddenly gifted new life like Gandalf atop Isengard? The end of the piece devolves into calls of unbridled, nonsensical joy, like birds song, like mating calls amongst brilliant plumage. 

Canyon Moon: D Major. DM - GM - AM - DM (I, IV, V, I)

 Bridge DM - (Em transit?) - AM - DM (I, (ii), V, I) 

Chorus DM - AM - DM - GM (I, V6, I6, IV) 

Perhaps the most straightforward tonic bound song of the album. Harry is missing Subject, but it’s a happy nostalgia now, a hopeful one, a “two weeks and I’ll be home.” Home is no longer a lonely place, like in TBSL. The world is happy waiting (there’s no rush? No need to have everything figured out?). “Doors yellow, broken, blue.” You can’t bribe the door on the way to the sky a sky where Harry’s Golden sun awaits him, and now the sky door is broken, busted through, that blue door to a blue sky that never looked so blue. 

We get another glimpse of She here; Subject remains You, Harry remains Harry, but there’s also a She who plays old hippies’ love songs and pretends to know the words; perhaps this is another Camille reference for narrative purposes, but I lean more towards this being another reference to She as Harry, exploring odd new music he’s never heard, trying not to be so pretentious about it but failing. (He’s such an Aquarius.) Most charmingly of all, the single whistler becomes two by the end of the song. 

Treat People With Kindness: F Major. This is the most interesting piece in terms of text painting. 

We start with CM6 - FM, then FM6/4 - BbM, then back to CM6 - FM, then we hold on the Am chord, and then repeat the whole thing. So analyzed in F Major this would be V6, I, I6/4, IV, V6, I, iii. 

But. By using the I6 to IV, Harry plays with the idea of a V of IV, where you take the IV chord of the key and pretend it has its own dominant (V) and use the V of IV not as the I chord normally is used, but as a Leading Tone chord to IV. 

ALL THAT TO SAY. He’s illustrating the lyrics. During “Maybe we can find a place” the chords are playing with dual resolutions. Where is the actual tonic? Is it F Major or B Flat Major? It’s ambiguous! We don’t know! We haven’t found our place yet! 

But then! The bridge. “And if we’re here long enough” and look where we land, on a CM chord, then BbM, then FM, a solid V, IV, I progression. And THEN (bless this boy) on the word belong we get the same A minor chord (the iii) but we get a 7th added to the chord, a G, and Harry holds this G in the melody (plant new seeds in the melody), a note that VERY MUCH DOES NOT BELONG because in no universe does a iii chord in Major have a 7th added! And Harry not only ADDS but draws attention to this note, this note that doesn’t belong!!! Then this iii7 chord resolves to C Major (V), making the G note a chord tone, making it BELONG, making it fit perfectly. 

GOD. Weep with me. 

This is Over the Rainbow. This is Hair, this is Age of Aquarius. Somewhere there’s a place we can belong and feel good and people will celebrate and rejoice in us, someday a new age will dawn. 

Harry is plunging into the deep end, dreaming, caught up in his good feelings and his euphoria in being “given second chances.” He’s tentative about admitting reckless hope to Subject; instead he says, “Maybe we can find a place to feel good?” Harry says he doesn’t need all the answers. He said in LU “do you know who you are” then in Falling “What am I now?” then in She “I don't know who she is” and now he’s at peace. He feels good in his skin, and he will keep on dancing. 

Most personally, I think the sudden somber turn of the line “If our friends all pass away” is in reference to grief. He’s speaking to Subject, but also to himself. It will be okay, okay, okay. Harry can’t control his life, he doesn’t have everything figured out, but he’s come to accept that. 

Side D

Fine Line: D Major. We come full circle, returning to the use of only three chords like at the start of the album. This time, though, Harry resolves to tonic in a repetitive pattern used for both the verses and chorus: 

Bm, GM7, DM6/4, or vi, IV7, I

FL is the summation of the album, the thesis statement, the conclusion of the journey. Harry has endured tests of patience, and accepted that there are things he’ll never know. He’s trying to shake off trepidation (of plunging in the deep end? Of hoping?). He says “My hand’s at risk, I fold.” The poker analogy is an interesting one; Subject (presumably) has gotten past Harry’s poker face, has sussed out his fronts and acts and strategies, and Harry is left bare and exposed, vulnerable before them. He’s been brought to this point, but willingly he folds. He laments that “spreading you open is the only way of knowing you.” We should open up before it’s all too much. Harry is done fighting. He’s also done sleeping in the dirt. For the first time he’s not sugar-coating his words, avoiding their problems via sex and pretense and flowery language. He’s matured enough to admit, “Man, I hate you sometimes.”

Again we have the reappearance of She. Harry says to Subject, “We’ll get the drinks in, so I’ll get to thinking of her.” This She is something between them, within them now, another facet of his and Subject’s relationship. Harry is going to spend time thinking of Her. She, I believe, is a part of him. 

A fine line is a balancing act, a tightrope, a suspension between extremes. But Harry calls out into the echo of the music, “We’ll be alright.” A declaration, a hope, a promise. Brass, strings, and a building crescendo, a cacophony of movie-credit-worthy emotion, sweeps us towards closure. Ethereal voices fade out, moving from dominant to tonic, but then a solitary piano plinks on a V chord, twice, hanging in the air, a question, an invitation, a hope.