#I might grab some pieces of what I discussed and make a proper post but OUghhgGGgghh goddd I'm a rambler at heart

[some-pers0n]

I love rambling in the DMs of my friends. Where all of my ramblers at it's just wonderful to just send like 99+ messages and just go on and on is it not?

[zhuhongs]

Ever since I watched Your Name Engraved Herein two weeks ago, I have wanted to talk about Jiahan as whole but in particular this scene right here that starts around the 40 minute mark. 

CW’s: discussion of religion, internalized homophobia, violent homophobia, choking, and lack of consent. Generally, the same cws as in the movie. 

Read more bc it’s uh.. 2.7k

all images are described in alt text

As soon as I watched this scene I just knew it had to be really significant and now rewatching YNEH, I realize that this is a major ideological turning point for Jiahan as a character. From this point on he slowly begins to accept that he’s gay and starts to consciously act on his feelings for Birdy. However, I must first add some context and insights on Jiahan’s prior behavior before I dive into this scene as a whole. At the beginning of the movie, we see that while Jiahan feels different from the rest of his roomates, he still sneaks out with them when they go hook up with girls, despite not showing any interest in the girl he’s with. He feels very different from the rest of his friends, but still goes along with them due to peer pressure. Later, he tries to dissuade them from violently hazing the gay student, Xie Zhenhong, (his name is never said in the film but it says so on his uniform shirt, and that what I’ll refer to him as for the rest of the post) but is reluctantly influenced to gang up on the student as well. He closes his eyes while he’s about to strike the bat down on the student, until Birdy rescues the student-- and Jiahan in a way-- from what is about to play out. After this, his friends accuse him of being in the same stall as Birdy (which he was) but he denies it, not wanting to explain why he was there and the ensuing taunting from his friends.

 While its obvious that Jiahan has feelings for Birdy, he isn’t confident enough to pursue them outright. Birdy is the more confident one in both their friendship and in his sexuality, not caring about how anyone perceives him and does what he wants regardless of the consequences. Jiahan is the one worried about societal stigma and goes along with things he doesn’t want to do. However after this encounter with the gay underclassman pictured above, Jiahan become more brave and honest about his feelings towards Birdy. Interestingly enough in the scene directly after this, Birdy begins to conceal his true feelings for Jiahan and pursue a straight relationship with Banban. He doesn’t do this hurt Jiahan, as he does reciprocate Jiahan’s feelings, but to discourage him from coming out and becoming a social pariah for being gay. Birdy himself doesn’t mind being an outcast, but he does not want to see the same thing happen to the one he loves. So instead of letting Jiahan do that, he tries to discourage Jiahan from ever pursuing him by getting a girlfriend and suggest Jiahan does the same. In the same day, both Jiahan and Birdy come to opposite realizations about their feelings for the other, thereby changing their dynamic for the course of the movie. Someone else has picked apart Birdy’s scene in their own post. If you haven’t read that analysis, please go read it, because its really good at explaining Birdy’s character since most of his story isn’t directly revealed to us. We must read inbetween the lines and piece it together, which can be confusing on a first watch.

Anyways, now we can focus on Jiahan. At this point in the movie, Jiahan is trying to understand why he’s upset that Birdy is showing interest in a girl in their band while dealing with his own internalized homophobia and denial over his sexuality. He then turns to the only out gay person he knows -- Xie Zhenhong, who he sees in the cafeteria with new bruises on his face. He looks at Jiahan with a smile. This makes me feel like Zhenhong probably picked up on Jiahan and Birdy’s feelings for each other since last year, when he saw them exit the same stall in the bathroom. Having been the Distinguished Out Person in a group before, I can definitely relate to the way Zhenhong reacts to Jiahan. It the typical “oh honey, you don’t realize it yet, but I know you’re gay” reaction. 

 Jiahan waits outside the cafeteria and calls out to out him from behind. At first Zhenhong ignores him as we can see that he smirks a bit when he first speaks. He definitely heard Jiahan but doesn’t answer him until he repeats himself a few times. Zhenhong purposely stops when the two are in front of the stained glass window, away from others. Jiahan’s word choice towards Zhenhong is also interesting as he addresses him as “學弟” which is a term for an underclassman. To my understanding, it’s not overly formal nor is it overly familiar, however it is the nicest way that anyone has addressed him all movie. Jiahan than asks him who gave him those bruises, showing concern for his well being. He then reveals why he stopped Zhenhong saying “Actually I want to ask you, when did you start liking boys?” This really seals the deal to Zhenhong that Jiahan is talking to him to try and sort out his own feelings towards Birdy. While his suggestion that Zhenhong perhaps “see a doctor” or “consider getting a girlfriend” read as a microaggression to most viewers, Zhenhong himself can tell that Jiahan is asking him this in good faith. And perhaps, this might be the most understanding anyone has been towards him since Birdy helped him out prior. Before he responds, he looks up at Jiahan and fixes his bangs. This all stumps Jiahan whose eyes dart around, speechless. Zhenhong then circles his arms around Jiahan’s neck, a very intimate gesture, and studies him for a moment. We cannot see Jiahan’s face at this moment but he does shuffle slightly, his body language nervous and confused, but not upset. After looking at him, Zhenhong then goes in closer, assumedly to kiss him. At this point, Jiahan physically stops him and grabs him by the throat. However, Jiahan’s face doesn’t seem to be angry, if anything, his face looks more scared and confused-- akin to a ‘what are you doing?’ moment.

Initially Zhenhong’s choice to kiss Jiahan read very...strangely to me. Why would the screenwriter, as a gay man that grew up in the 80’s, choose to include this? What was there to gain? To me it seemed like it was reinforcing the stereotype of gay men being overly flirtacious and viewed as predators. Why show a nonconsentual attempted kiss at all? I thought about it a lot, both for this scene and the following one with the old man and later between Jiahan and Birdy because it seemed?? Odd to me?? Isn’t that a disservice in representing gay men? I don’t fully have the right answer but I feel like by writing the scene like this, it goes to demonstrate how Jiahan still isn’t fully comfortable with being gay. And also that lgbt people, especially teens, aren’t always going to be good rep. Liu Kuang-hui wasn’t writing the movie to be an perfect, morally uplifting, santized gay narritive. He was writing something that spoke to his real life experience as a gay man in 1980’s Taiwan. In real life, people do questionable things and good narratives are supposed to make you question characters and their actions and judge for yourself whether what they did was right or wrong. The narrative isn’t looking to condemn Xie Zhenhong for doing this. Xie Zhenhong is ultimately a victim of violent homophobia, that will not hide himself or his sexuality despite the violence he faces. He isn’t perfect, nor is Jiahan, nor is Birdy, nor is anyone in the film. 

Although now having rewatched this scene upwards of eight times in writing this, it feels like Zhenhong didn’t assume this action to be without consent. Of course, no words were explicitly exchanged about kissing, and I’m not trying to make the case that it’s okay to kiss someone without their consent, that’s harassment. However, Zhenhong did gave Jiahan time to express his discomfort before proceeding. Zhenhong first got close to Jiahan by brushing his bangs, Jiahan did not say anything or look visibly uncomfortable. He then put his arms around Jiahan’s neck, and stared at him for a good ten seconds. At this point, Jiahan had time to say he was uncomfortable. As we know it, consent does indeed entail a verbal, understood yes from both parties. However given the context, I can understand why Zhenhong thought that Jiahan was consenting at that moment. However the moment Jiahan revoked his consent Zhenhong stopped trying to kiss him. Zhenhong shouldn’t have gone in without getting verbal consent, and Jiahan could’ve done something other than grabbing him by the throat. They were both in the wrong. Violence shouldn’t have been the reaction, nor should’ve kissing someone without their verbal consent. The lines were very blurred, and proper communication could’ve resulted in a better interaction but like I mentioned above, I don’t think the writers wanted to portray the scene in that way. The intent was not to say that Zhenhong’s actions were romantic or something to emulate. It was very purposeful in showing to interplay of homophobia, gay desire, and religion.

The scene is set up like a religious confession. Zhenhong purposefully leads Jiahan to the stained glass, a metaphor for his religious guilt. He doesn’t look Zhenhong in the eyes, his voice is hushed, and body language nervous, and troubled-- it communicates to Zhenhong that he thinks he may be gay and wants either reassurance that he isn’t or acceptance that is. Regardless, it’s a very vulnerable and intimate moment. Jiahan is facing him like ‘hey, I know my friends were bullying you and I wanted to save you but was too much of a coward and almost took part in harming you. I’m sorry. I know you saw that me and Birdy were in the same stall together, and that you saw me just telling him not to talk to the girls, and neither of those are heterosexual things to do. Please, help me.’ He’s asking Zhenhong to pass judgement on him, is he gay or not? By virtue of even asking that question, they both know the answer -- Jiahan is in love with Birdy, but whether Jiahan can accept that or not is up to him. In a way, Zhenhong is testing Jiahan to see how honest he can be with himself. By approaching him like that, he’s testing to see whether Jiahan can accept being intimate with a man or not. It’s not a good or ethical test, but it sure is effective. Because in his head, Jiahan is coming to realize that he doesn’t mind a man being close to him in a romantic way. Although, he isn’t fully there yet. He still grabs Zhenhong. But as Zhenhong stares at him despite the hand around his throat, Jiahan really has to think about his actions. Is that what he really wants to do, or is that what he’s been taught to do? It illustrates his internalized homophobia perfectly. Jiahan is literally staring gay desire in the face, rejecting it, while in front of his religion. Zhenhong finally answers Jiahan that “he has always loved boys since he was little, it’s never changed.” Upon hearing that his grip loosens and he pulls away. And the fact that we can hear him well means that Jiahan was never choking him, his hand was there, but not gripping. Zhenhong pulls him in closer and tilts his head, and says “and it never will.”  Zhenhong’s words are very deliberate. It’s as if he anticipated this might happen and knew exactly what to say. He wants to carve it in Jiahan’s brain that no one chooses to be gay. They always are and no amount of denial, like the kind Jiahan is showing, will change that. He then finally lets go of Jiahan, who is speechless, he thanks him, and leaves. Jiahan, however, stays there for a second, processing everything that has happened, and breathes heavily before the scene cuts to later that day.

Finally, I would like to examine exactly what Zhenhong’s “thanks” even means. Why would Zhenhong be thanking Jiahan? On the surface, it lookslike Jiahan waited for this guy to finish eating, then asked him invasive questions about his sexuality and suggest he should get help and then almost choked him. This should count as a microagression at best and an attempted hate crime at worst. But, as I just dived into, this wasn’t a bad faith jeer by Jiahan in order to bully Zhenhong, this was a genuine cry for help made by a deeply confused teenager. I feel like the “thanks.” at the end of the scene was perhaps just as puzzling to me as when I thought about why the staff would have that scene play out like that in the first place? I think his thanks is conveying many things. Firstly, thanking him for not actually hurting him and allowing him to have a semi normal interaction with a student of the same gender. As far as we know, many,  MANY different students have tried to hurt him in the new semester alone. Hell, we literally do not even know his name as everyone refers to him by the q slur or some other derogatory term, which speaks a lot to how he is treated. He also may be saying thanks for actually asking him about his sexuality. While Jiahan still followed it up with a suggestion he see a doctor, he still genuinely wanted to know why rather fully assume he has something wrong with him. Also, I feel like he might be thanking Jiahan for being brave enough to actually confront his sexualtiy and ask Zhenhong for help in the first place. Zhenhong really seems to be alone as the only gay student at the school but now knowing that Jiahan is realizing thathe’s gay as well, might make him be hopeful that things may slowly begin to change. Sadly, this interaction is the last time we see Xie Zhenhong all film which sucks because I really liked him. And I feel like it would’ve been really nice to see him after the time skip or at least have Jiahan mention him because this moment was one of the things that really made Jiahan start to accept his sexuality. A cut scene with Father Oliver also contributed, but I really wish Xie Zhenhong got more narrative than being the only out student that was then violently bullied. But, I acknowledge that MANY scenes were cut from the film for length so I can’t complain to much.

Oh god, that was a lot to say about a scene that was literally a minute and thirty seconds long. In conclusion!! I just had a lot of things to say about this scene and the scenes surrounding it. I think Jiahan is just a very painfully relatable character for many LGBT viewers and he was incredibly relatable for me which is why I felt the need to spend my day off writing this as opposed to doing homework. This scene is incredibly rich on many levels and I really appreciate YNEH as a whole for not spoonfeeding the viewer information and letting us interpret and question the scenes on our own and come to our own conclusions about the characters and yea. There’s so much going on and a lot of nuance and idk how to properly convey a lot of my thoughts but I tried really hard bc i really do love this movie. I really was puzzled by this scene at first, but now having examined it, it is my favorite scene in the movie. If this scene was changed in any way to make it more palatable, it would’ve been nearly as impactful which was a hard decision to come to, but I stand by it. I don’t know if I feel the same about other scenes but I will be reviewing YNEH as a whole in a different post. I have much more to say but my thoughts on this scene were far too long to not make it a separate post of its own. In essence, YNEH is about growing up and accepting yourself in all ways. Not all of those things are pleasant but if you cannot accept those things about yourself, you’re doomed to be miserable until you can live life unburdened by your own and societies limitations. Goodnight, my fingers hurt.

[lazypeachsoul]

are you thanking me or your god? - u.r.

Pairing: Uhtred Ragnarsson x fem!reader.

Request: by @viktoria12 “Hey can you write a imagine with Uhtred? The content is up to you🙏”

Warnings: Nothing.

Word count: 1.601 words.

A/N: I have to admit this was a bit tricky because I've never read uhtred imagines. But it was fun, i really like uhtred as a character. i hope you like it and I'm sorry it has taken me some time to post it.

Masterlist.

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Winchester was the busiest it had been in a long time. With the coming of spring, the merchants were returning to the city to trade and spending too much time around the alehouse. Spirits were high after the blessing given by the priest on Easter and the year was expected to be calm and fruitful. Except for the danes lurking in the surrounding areas. But nobody would dare talk about that when it’s the Lord’s day.

Good weather meant people would go outside more, and therefore more gossip. Every turn you took on your way to the market, you would hear a different rumour. Most were about the health of the king, some were about the threat of a battle. You even heard one about danes walking around the city freely.

But your head was too centered on the task at hand. Abbess Hild had asked you to go to the market for flour and other necessities, and you wouldn’t dare disappoint the Abbess. You weren’t even a nun and you still followed her orders like a soldier.

Your house was close to the convent and, ever since you walked past the gates and into their garden when you were young, they had treated you like their family. Sometimes too much when it came to the boys your age. But they were only trying to protect you.

Sister Hild, later Abbess, had always surprised you. Not only did she have a strong will and personality, she was also physically strong. More than what a woman of god should be. but still, with all her strength, she needed you to go buy the necessities that they couldn’t get from their garden.

Too distracted by your thoughts and the gossiping going around, you collided against someone making you almost tumble to the dirt floor. If it hadn’t been for a quick hand grabbing your dresses you would be covered in mud and other disgusting stuff.

Looking up you saw a scruffy looking man, but not in a bad way surprisingly. This man looked almost too different from what you were used to seeing around Winchester. Something about his reaction told you he was trained, and the scars in his hands and handsome face gave away he was probably a soldier. For who is what you were curious to know.

Realizing the compromising position you found yourself on, with a man holding your dress, you quickly tried to regain your balance. The man let go and you tried to stutter an apology, but your attempts were stopped by a sweet but authoritative voice behind you.

“Uhtred! I was looking for you, we need to discuss…” Her voice got interrupted when she recognized you in front of the man. “What are you doing here, darling? I thought you would be in the market by now.”

“I tried Abbes, I just had a little-” You tried to speak but were interrupted by a deep voice. In a normal situation you would be angry at such interruption, but when you heard the voice you couldn’t really care about it.

“We had a small incident, Hild. Don’t worry, nobody is hurt.”

The voice fit the man perfectly. With a deep voice he spoke calmly and yet you could pick up a joking tone towards the Abbess. Who is this uhtred man? Why is he joking with Hild? But wait, how does Hild even know a man like him?

Full of curiosity you realized you were still standing between them. Clearing your throat you nodded at Hild and turned around with a smile to your saviour.

“Thank you Lord for helping me. I’m in your debt.” Nodding your head you moved past them, not missing the small smile on the man's face.

“You owe nothing to him, young lady. He's heathen. He doesn’t deserve your compassion.”

A loud laugh was heard from the man along with what sounded like a smack, probably to the leather of his armour. The words of the Abbess circled your brain for the rest of the day. So he was a heathen, a friend of Hild and incredibly handsome. Great, what a mysterious man.

After your chores were done and you took some time to relax outside of your house, the world seemed to dissipate around you. The soft sound of quick steps and panting made you look up from your dress, breaking the peace of your surroundings.

Eanflæd was running towards you, people looking her way either worried or weirded out by your young friend’s race. She reached you just in time to ungracefully collapse on the bench you were sitting on.

“Is everything okay, Eanflæd? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run that fast. Not even when the chickens escaped.”

She was trying to regain her breath, but took the time to pinch your arm for the reminder of the chicken run.

“You...you…” She panted before taking a big breath. “You weren’t going to tell me you have been seeing the Dane-slayer.”

“Who?” You couldn’t hide your surprise.

The only person you had seen outside your family was the man who sold you the produce for the abbey. And also that man…

“Are you talking about Uhtred?”

“You know him enough you don’t even talk about him like a lord?”

You tried to hide your laugh but a small snort came out.

“I don’t know him. He merely saved me from an ugly fall this morning.” Shrugging you tried to dismiss the gossip. “But you do seem to know about him, so tell me…”

The next day didn’t allow for much thinking about ‘the Dane-slayer’. You had been working non stop in your father’s farm and everything hurt. But your mother has asked you to take some fresh eggs to her friend, and you couldn’t say no to your mother’s gentle face.

It was late enough for the ruckus of the market to have died down, but not enough for it to be dangerous or improper for a young woman to be walking around unaccompanied.

Too absorbed in your own thoughts you didn’t hear the neigh of the horse until it was too late for you to react. Looking at the animal getting closer you couldn’t help but try and pray that you would be saved, but no prayers came to your head at that moment.

Just when you were about to give up and close your eyes, something yanked you out of the way making you barely dodge the horse and the man on the cart who was yelling at you. Your heart was hammering in your chest, ears ringing and hands shaking. The eggs were no longer in your grasp but smashed against the floor, although in that moment you could make yourself care for them.

The same hand that had yanked you out of the way, spoon you around. Your saviour was none other than yesterday’s saviour. you really were in debt with this man now.

“Are you okay?” His voice was worried, a contrast to the day before’s joking tone.

Time seemed to slow while you assimilated what had happened. Probably too much time passed before you could answer but the man didn’t seem to care. When you could trust your voice to speak again, the words came out all at once.

“I was nearly trampled by someone’s horse in the street, but you stepped in just in time to get me out of the way even if it put you in danger as well.” He smiled at the jumbled words and after a deep breath you tried to regain your thoughts. “Thank you, lord.”

“Are you thanking me or your god?” Uhtred spoke and you knew he was trying to avoid your shock at the incident.

You thought about the answer and tried to smile, probably looking more like a grimace.

“Both? Yes, I think I’m thanking both.” Your voice lowered, probably to avoid other people hearing you talk that way about the Lord. “Both is good.”

He smiled and took a step back looking at you, probably checking for any injuries. The people of Winchester were used to accidents and didn’t normally care, but you could feel some stares on you. Probably because of Uhtred and his fame.

“You seem to be in one piece, can’t say the same for the eggs.” He pointed at the road.

“You have saved me twice now, lord. I might have to ignore the Abbess and ask you what I should do in return for you.”

“I wouldn’t ignore Hild. You don’t want to know what she can do with a sword.” He tried to dismiss the conversation but your curiosity only grew. “I only ask for one thing in return.”

You nodded, asking for him to continue and still trying to imagine Abbess hild wielding a sword. You knew he was a soldier, and a good one. But Hild? No, she was a woman of God.

“Stop distracting yourself when walking around. If you don’t you might end up like your eggs.”

“But if I stop getting distracted, what would you save me from, Dane-slayer?”

What possessed you in that moment to utter those words you couldn’t really say. You just knew it was not entirely proper and that if your mother heard your ear would hurt from the scolding. But the smirk on Uhtred’s face was worth it.

“So you know who I am. But I know nothing about you. Is that unfair?”

“I have my ways, Lord Uhtred. Maybe when you save me next time I could tell you something about myself.”

"Let's just hope it's not a dangerous situation then. Just to make sure you can tell me after."

taglist: @webreathfandoms

[kintatsujo]

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part TWENTY-NINE

Previous post is here!!!

This is another mostly-prose-with-illustrations post and most of the wrap posts are going to be the same because there’s a lot to cover. 

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Dinravi stabs Nightmare Demise and sends lightning through the blade. As Nightmare Demise fades he suddenly grins, teeth all sharp:

[Image Description: Nightmare Demise is laying on his back, grinning as smoke hisses around him.  “Maybe NEXT TIME, Little Prince,” he says.  Dinravi frowns down at him.  “In DEMISE’S Nightmares, perhaps,” he says.  End ID.]

(Note: I did not expect Dinravi to say that.)

Link manages that second blow, and Fierce Deity stumbles back, still smiling the same as before.

[Image Description: Fierce Deity puts his hand to his chest and closes his eyes, black blood trickling thick from one side of his smile.  He fades away.  Link, who’s gained a bruised cheek and a cut lip since we’ve last seen, stares at him in some confusion and mixed emotion.  End ID.]

At last, together, all three Triforce bearers turn their power on the God's Nightmare in the center of the room along with Eltani and Ghirahim, and with Hylia's Light Queen Zelda closes the tear in reality.

Zelda rushes to the sacristy to check on her daughter. Astramorus is coming through the door to the tunnels as she makes it there, the pendant with the Moon Pearl over his shoulder, the book of spells under his arm, looking exhausted, and they stop to stare at one another for half a breath.

"... Where is Serenumbra?" Zelda asks him.

Astramorus's face twists and then he holds up a limp creature, some sort of snake with a skull for a face that is definitely not a snake's skull.

"We scuffled," he says, as if that explains everything. "He's alive and I'm GOING to change him back, but your Majesty I'm not a young man, this seemed like an easier way to get him back up here."

[Image Description: Astramorus, looking very done and with the Moon Pearl over his shoulder and the magic book under his arm, presents with his other hand a snake with a human skull that appears to be attempting to constrict his arm. The snake is labeled “Snakenumbra.”  End ID.] 

Queen Zelda stares at him with the schooled expression of someone who has made a career of not laughing at the wrong moment.

"We'll discuss this when we get to your sentencing for attacking Prince Dinravi," she says, and Astramorus shrugs.

"I think you know I didn't go after him because of that," he answers.

[Image Description: Link sits on one of the stone beds in the Sanctuary and leans back on his hands. Ghirahim settles down next to him. Link side eyes him.

"You look terrible," he says.

"Thanks for noticing," Ghirahim answers with a tired smile. "You look WORSE."

Dinravi, off panel, sends a "Leave him alone, Ghirahim," in their direction.  End ID.]

"No I've decided that I like this one," Ghirahim shoots back. "We fought a hinox and an eldritch nightmare together and I think he might be a little crazy." He grins at Link, teeth all sharp. "I learned my lesson with the first of you," he says, "The spirit of the hero does something funny to your heads, it's entertaining when it's not frustrating."

Link stares at him and then rubs the mark on his hand. "I thought this was some kind of mistake, actually," he admits.

Ghirahim gives him a flat look as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "I threw your father off a roof and you were ready to kill me, I could see it in your face," he says. "You epitomize your predecessor's foolishness."

Link is absolutely not sure how to take that.

Astramorus thumbs through the book of magic and finds the counter to the spell Serenumbra used to put the princesses to sleep, waking them.

"Well now, Dove," Queen Zelda says, "you're safe now," and Princess Zelda, who'd been holding it together so well, falls into her mother's arms.

Princess Hilda stares at them silently for a moment before saying "I'm so deeply sorry for the trouble Lord Serenumbra has caused."

Princess Zelda pulls away and asserts, "She had no idea, Mother."

Queen Zelda gives Hilda a rueful smile. "You know, I have another arm if you need it."

Hilda is taller than Queen Zelda (she's quite a tall girl) but that doesn't matter; she buries her face in the older woman's neck and begins to sob.

"There now, that's better," Queen Zelda says.

[Image Description: Hilda is folded over Zelda Sr and sobbing into her hands on Zelda’s shoulder, while Zelda Jr is leaning into Zelda Sr’s other shoulder and crying more quietly, giving Hilda a tired and fond look.  Queen Zelda has her arms wrapped around both girls and is making a serious thoughtful face, thinking: “So how do I explain to my husband that I’m adopting the ruler of a neighboring country this time.” End ID.]

Then, at Hilda's insistence, they restore the proper shapes of the Scarred Woman and the Burly Man.

"On the love of Hylia, your highness," the Scarred Woman promises Hilda, "I'll never take another order not from your kind lips."

Queen Zelda purses hers. "I think being turned into.... That. Was more than enough punishment for the part you two played in this mess," she decides. "As for Serenumbra himself-"

Serenumbra's shape is being restored by Astramorus as she says this and he barely waits for a human tongue to open his mouth. "Princess Hilda," he says, smiling paternally, "I was only acting in what I saw as your best interests-"

"Shut up," Hilda cuts him off. She looks like she's ready to cry again. "Your Majesty, do as you please with him, I never want to see him again."

"I helped raise you-" Serenumbra starts, and it's Astramorus who cuts him off this time:

"Don't make me hit you with this book again, Seren," he says.

"I think his fate is my right, at this point." This is Eltani. "He would have had my son either murdered or seduced by a demon to spread bloodshed across Hyrule."

"Well, he's only a little more than half demon now," Serenumbra starts to say.

"What." Ghirahim says.

"I pulled some human emotion into him to make him more manageable," Serenumbra continues as if he hadn't spoken. "There was plenty around the castle, Hilda's a very nice girl."

Hilda gets up and leaves while Ghirahim leans directly into Serenumbra's face and starts screaming at him.

[Image Description: Ghirahim saying his fuckin piece.  He has one hand braced on the wall behind Serenumbra, who is flinching back, while Ghirahim holds his other hand- shape shifted into claws- in a position ready to grab and tear.  Ghirahim is absolutely screaming, although some of the dialogue is cut off.  End ID.]

The dialogue isn’t in the image description because I’m going to share the entire thing including cut-off parts here: “You awful disgusting little man daring to toy with the magnificent Ghirahim even THINKING to tamper with MY PERSON I should cut you to pieces and leave you with your heart still beating in the sun for the lizalfos in the desert to find and we’d see whose problem I was THEN I swear on my last master’s ashes if it wasn’t for my prince you’d already be gutted on the floor for this but you’re not worthy of bleeding on the same carpet that’s touched his feet and that you dared to assume that your disgusting machinations would even work on him proves what a pathetic fool you really are-”

Eventually Dinravi pulls him gently away. "I knew there was something wrong," Ghirahim mutters, then says, "Eltani tell your son to let me kill him I'll never backtalk you again."

"Tempting, even if I don't believe that," Eltani admits. "Zelda?"

Queen Zelda shrugs. "He's all yours, dear."

Finally, finally Serenumbra's smug face drops. "Well, at least my dear old friend will be keeping me company on the gallows," he says nastily, looking at Astramorus.

Astramorus seems unmoved; Link on the other hand is immediately worried, looking to Queen Zelda and Eltani, who both look a bit thoughtful.

Eltani says, "Well, no, he's certainly exiled from Gerudo City, but I think I'm willing to go with the idea that he was acting under duress."

"Seren didn't actually tell me to-" Astramorus starts to say, but she holds up a hand.

"Even now you're calling him a fond nickname," she says sadly. Astramorus looks surprised to have this pointed out.

"I'm willing to acknowledge the help he's been since the incident," Zelda says. "But we'll discuss it back in Hyrule. Lord Astramorus has only done good here in Lorule, it's unfair to sentence him here, especially on the heels of the battle he helped win."

"I think that's fair," Eltani agrees, and with that I'm wrapping the post because holy wow it got long lol

[autumnslance]

Seems we get a brief breather between parts 1 and 2 of 5.5, so Aeryn's snagging her man so they can take care of one another post infiltration and combat. Just two adventurers cleaning up together. The rating actually remains in "older T" levels. You'll see why.

Below the cut on Tumblr for those who prefer this medium: ----

After the hearty dinner their colleagues set out, the senior Scions dispersed. Y’shtola, Urianger, and G’raha vanished to the library to discuss the Hydaelyn theories. Tataru offered to show Estinien his new room with the twins opting to tag along, for better or worse. Aeryn snagged Thancred’s coat before he could leave the dining area. He raised a brow and glanced about as she tugged gently, encouraging him to follow her. No one seemed to pay them much mind, so he did not fight being drawn along.

“Have a plan?” Thancred asked as they headed down the hall leading to the various senior Scions’ rooms.

Aeryn shrugged. “Nothing specific. Mostly I’ve missed you and we seem to have a moment.”

He drew her into an embrace, backwards against his chest. They both still smelled of levin-burnt sand and grimy sweat, tinged with the coppery tang of blood. But her viola hairpiece was also mingled in, familiar and comforting, and he let out a deep sigh he felt he’d been holding for weeks. “I’ve missed you as well.” He leaned closer to her ear to murmur, “I’ve perhaps been thinking of the various ways I intend to show just how much I’ve missed you once we’ve cleaned up.”

She giggled and he could see her expected blush as she leaned into the embrace before stepping away. “Sounds as if you think to get dirty again .”

He grinned. “It’s certainly been a thought, if you’re amenable.” Thancred paused as they came to her door. “I need to stow my gear and check on a certain rodent, lest we be interrupted by squeaky indignation later.”

“Come in when you’ve cleaned up and seen to your other girlfriend,” she teased, giving him a wink before turning away.

“On second thought,” he said, overwhelmed by the idea of Aeryn vanishing behind the door. “I’ll risk nutkin wrath and come in now.”

“You know you’re asking for it,” Aeryn said, keeping her door open for him.

Thancred shrugged, propping his gunblade on the stand by the entrance as he stepped inside. “We played and I lavished all sorts of affection on the little tyrant when Urianger and I were here naught but two days ago, it’ll be fine.” Maybe. His pet had been rather clingy since Thancred had awoken to his body after his time on the First.

Thoughts of the nutkin scattered as soon as the door locked, allowing them to fall against each other, Aeryn’s hands gripping his lapels, his hands in her hair and on the small of her back, pulling them into a long kiss and gods he had been needing that. They had had no time to themselves, not even a brief stolen moment, since his return from Garlemald. The closest they had come was leaning on each other for a brief nap on the airship returning from Paglth’an to Ul’dah.

But now here she was; solid, warm, soft in all the right places, and as tense as she normally was after such adventures—and when worried for a friend. They broke the kiss, both sighing with content as their foreheads rested against each other.

“You’re tense,” she murmured, pushing his coat off.

“Was about to say the same of you.” He let her remove it to hang by the doorframe. It needed a good wash and repairs after fighting through Paglth’an, not to mention a few weeks scouting in Garlemald; there hadn’t been time for proper maintenance the brief times he had returned to the Stones over the last few days. He dropped his gloves behind her so he could slide his palms over her form until he found the buttons and fastens for her own coat, hanging it next to his once he had it off her.

Aeryn started unhooking his belts and harnesses. He thought of protesting, but the weight of his gear was suddenly noticeable as his ammunition, daggers, the holster he kept healing potions and unguents, and various other pouches of practical supplies, were hung on hooks or placed on the nearby desk.

Thancred fought the urge to lean on the wall to turn to her, doing the same with her sword belt, supply pouches, the tie she wore with that coat. He was about to unbutton her shirt, but she was unhooking his armor, and he helped remove his chest piece, feeling lighter—and weary and aching, now that it wasn’t holding him up.

“You’ve a lot of bruising,” Aeryn said, already working on removing his undershirt as she frowned, noting every wince and flinch he made as her fingers traced over him. 

“Well, I was holding off magitek and dragons.” He tried to make it sound light, but he thought he sounded more snippy due to his tiredness. He forced his tone to sound gentler. “It’s after effects, really; Urianger saw to the worst of it already.”

Aeryn muttered the familiar incantation, the electric taste of wintry pine and icy mountain lakes accompanying her spell. The aching faded further, his remaining minor injuries progressing to a nearly healed stage. It was an improvement, and he told her so before kissing her again. His hands took advantage of the distraction to remove her blouse, watching her wince and flinch now as Thancred checked over her shoulders and arms, across her back and midsection, frowning at her cuts and bruises in turn. He tried reminding himself that some had been unavoidable, even with him standing between her and their enemies.

“Would that I could return the favor.” He bit down on the old frustration as she cast for herself under his gaze.

“It’s all ri—ight!” Aeryn yelped as he picked her up and turned to deposit her on her nearby desk, then knelt.

“Allow me to help with this instead,” Thancred said, finding the hidden fasteners on her tall boots before pulling them off. She sighed and flexed her toes, socks sweat-stained, perhaps blood stained too, given some of the discoloration. He pulled off her socks and began massaging her left foot, grinning as she released a small relieved moan and slumped a bit. All the flipping around she did couldn’t have been easy on her long, perfect legs, he often thought, working his way from her toes to her calf before moving on to her right foot.

“You’ll have to let me do the same for you. I know those greaves are heavy.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, knowing it was pointless to argue. Honestly, he was looking forward to it. He left a kiss just below her knee before he stood with a wince.

Aeryn slid off the desk, a hand on his chest, herding him to sit next to make good on that promise. Thancred sighed and allowed it, feeling better with his boots and socks off and grumbling relief as she massaged his limbs, checking his feet as he had hers.

“I could fall asleep like this,” he murmured. She finished her work and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Not before you get a bath,” Aeryn admonished. “Or shower, if you prefer; the reservoir’s heated and ready to go either way.”

“First things first.” Thancred stretched as he stood. He gestured at the vanity in her wash area. “Sit and pass me your hairbrush.”

Over the next several minutes he carefully, section by section, brushed out her fine locks, removing bands and pins and undoing the braids. Why she put it in such a complicated style was beyond him—though he had to admit it stayed more or less in place, and she seemed able to style it swiftly. Aeryn meanwhile enjoyed the attention, only hissing and flinching the few times he hit an unavoidable snag. Smoothed out, her hair fell past her shoulder blades. He drew his fingers through the black strands for the sheer pleasure of it.

“Want to wash it too?” She half-joked.

“Would be my pleasure. We have to finish getting you undressed first, though.”

“As if you’ve ever had problems with that,” Aeryn teased—even as he undid her brassiere.

“No idea what you mean,” Thancred said, leaving a kiss on the round of her shoulder while his fingers danced down her sides and then front to undo her pants.

Once they were both divested of their remaining clothing, he took her hand like a gentleman and helped her step into the tub. She fiddled with the levers on the shower head, making sure the water wasn’t too hot when it poured forth, rinsing away the grime and grit. They took turns washing each others’ hair and scrubbing backs and limbs. After the magical healing, there were still bruises on them both, but they looked days old instead of—gods, was it truly the same day? The sun had risen over the plains after all night fighting, then returning to Ul’dah, and finally home where it was evening again.

It had been a long handful of days.

Aeryn “mrf’d” as he rubbed her shoulders and back, the soap washed off but much of her tension remaining. He didn’t realize he was just as bad until she did the same for him, scrubbing his neck, shoulders, and back, continuing to massage as the warm water rained down. He forced himself to relax, or tried to at least. The temptation to fill the tub and lounge together was strong, but Thancred feared in their weary states they might fall asleep. Not that that would be a problem for Aeryn, given the Kojin blessing. He really ought to look into that for himself; it could be extremely useful.

They shut off the shower just as the crystal reservoir was running out and the water started to chill. Aeryn was quicker, snagging the biggest of the towels—which she wrapped around him, rubbing vigorously. “Gotcha.”

“My only complaint is you are the one dripping everywhere,” Thancred said, grabbing another towel. “All that hair first, then the rest of you.” He wrapped up her hair as she tucked his towel around his waist like a makeshift skirt, forcing him to find a third towel to wrap her in. It also put him in the perfect position to scoop her up, eliciting another surprised sound and giggle.

“I can walk, you know,” Aeryn said, nuzzling his neck. “And I know you’re tired.”

“Not too tired to spoil you what little you allow.” He carried her across the room and around the partition to her bed. He set her among the many pillows and blankets she kept there, pulling away the towels and dropping them to the side to be worried about later as he settled in beside her.

“Shouldn’t we be under the covers?” She feigned innocence as his hands roamed over her body. “And turn off the lights?”

“This would be part of the ‘get dirty again’ plan from earlier.”

“Ah, right; thought you’d forgotten.”

“As if I could.” Thancred denied further rejoinders with another kiss, this one hungrier than the others. Aeryn responded with an equal fervor, pressing closer to him with a shiver as his fingers found sensitive spots along her spine and sides.

He was enjoying her quiet little noises and how she writhed, and he nearly had her to where she would make those sweet, whimpery begging sounds as he prolonged their mutual pleasure, when Aeryn stilled, blinking past him. “...Thancred…”

He heard the scrabbling and had barely enough time to brace himself before four tiny sharp-clawed feet landed on his upper back accompanied by angry chittering, and he wondered how such a small creature could knock the wind out of him like that.

Aeryn was no help, the traitor, laughing while the nutkin continued its scolding. “I warned you!” she got out between giggles.

“How in the seven hells did it even get in here, I know I locked that door,” Thancred growled, wrangling the beast off his back, though it refused to be held, scrambling over his arms, chest, and shoulders, until Aeryn cooed and clicked for it.

“You’re the infiltration expert, I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually,” she said as the nutkin bounced over to her, still chittering indignantly but accepting a cuddle and pets.

“Argh,” was Thancred’s only response, dropping on the mattress, arms splayed. A moment later there was another sharp weight on his chest and more chattering, this less angry and more inquisitive and needy. He scritched the nutkin, begrudgingly pleased with how it chirred and nuzzled him. “One would think you neglected entirely, to be so demanding,” he admonished. He went unheeded beyond a fluffy tail bomfed against his ribs a few times in response to his voice.

Aeryn giggled again and settled alongside him, adding her own tribute pets. “You weren’t kidding earlier when you called this critter a tyrant.”

“Perhaps if fed it’ll allow us to return to our own business,” he grumbled.

“There’s a tin container in the cabinet on my desk for such occasions, since we spent plenty of time together while you were gone. You could get the lights while you’re at it.”

Thancred sighed theatrically, eliciting another round of giggles from Aeryn. He sat up with one hand cupped under the nutkin, who chattered and scrabbled up his arm to his shoulder as he crossed the room, its nails prickling Thancred’s bare skin.

There was, in fact, a tin and food and water dishes in the right-hand cabinet in the desk, the nutkin bounding in gleeful expectation upon the oak surface. “You know what you’re after, little fiend,” Thancred said, adding a few treats to hopefully keep his pet occupied and too full to bounce around much more. He brushed his hand over the soft grey fur while the nutkin dug in, chirring with content as it ate. “Lesson learned; see to you first always. Now no more interruptions, hear me?”

The nutkin paid no further attention, focused on its dinner and the snacks for storing in one of its many stashes around the Rising Stones. There was probably at least one here in Aeryn’s chamber.

Thancred left his fuzzy companion on the desk as he turned out the lights, grabbing extra water glasses while he was up, the room familiar enough that once his vision adjusted it was no trouble to cross the darkened space.

Aeryn had slid under the sheets in the meantime and was starting to doze off by the time he set the water on the nightstand and laid beside her. “Sleepy?” He tried very hard not to be too disappointed; it had been a long, hard few days, and honestly sleeping in her bed and being used as her pillow was itself a heavenly feeling he had missed over the past few weeks, and all else could wait until they were better rested in the morning…

The placement of her hand scattered those thoughts. “A bit, after everything,” she said. “But I’m certain you can wake me up again. We had a plan, remember?”

“Indeed,” he said, pulling her close once more. With any luck the nutkin was finally satisfied, as it hadn’t been the only one missing Thancred.

[stanknotstark]

Astral Pt. 15.1 (Loki x Reader)

So like I thought of Loki eating a marshmallow for the first time and planned it out a little bit like a week or a week and a half ago and very recently before i could write anything I saw a tiktok with the same idea and it made me feel scared and happy at the same time 😂 anyways i got my packing done so i had time to write! It was easy since there was no plot! However I hope you guys realize that all the .1s are never planned....like i literally wake up that day, look at a blank post, and think hmm today i shall do this! LOL

It’s one day before you head out to track down Madonna when you finally break. 

Luckily it’s only Loki around to see it but still you’re a little embarrassed. 

“Why is the magic so hard to control!” You scream throwing a big ball of energy into the open space of the training room. When it hits the wall the entire room shakes a bit then it goes silent. Loki doesn’t say anything just watches you and how you’re going to react now. 

You stand there, haggardly breathing, your eyes closed tight, your hands fists at your side. As you rile yourself up more when you think of Madonna and Kang you don’t realize your magic is starting to flow around you in sparks and flares. 

Loki calls out your name but you don’t hear it. What you do notice is Loki’s hands cupping your face. When you open your eyes you see Loki looking down at you but then you see your magic connecting with his body in random intervals. Every time your magic connects with him it leaves the place searing red, hot, and charred. You look up and see Loki wince when the magic reaches his skin. 

You deflate, embarrassed and ashamed, and your magic that was uncontrolled disappears. You drop to your knees, breaking out of Loki’s grasp but Loki follows you down anyways. You sit on your knees, your face hidden in your hands as you try your best not to cry. Loki sits right in front of you on his knees too. He gives you a little time before he pries your hands from your face and makes you look at him. 

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, I want you to know it’s ok to cry.” Loki whispers to you, his eyes filled with nothing but affection. 

You let out a sob, gasp, feel the tears that had welled in your eyes drop down your cheeks. 

Loki pulls you into a hug and just sits there holding you as you let out your frustration all over his, now ruined, hoodie.

When you’ve let out everything you’ve been bottling you sniffle and pull from Loki’s hug. You quickly wipe at your eyes and nose and do nothing more than smear the unwanted liquids across your face. Then, you apologize. 

“Nonsense.” Is all Loki says before magicking a handkerchief for you. You take it with a small thanks and actually clean off your face. 

When you’re presentable Loki brings a hand up and caresses your jawline. “While it saddens me to see you cry, you’re very cute when you do.” 

You let out a wobbly laugh at this statement, bringing a hand up to cover Loki’s hand on your jaw. “Men, I swear.” You smile at Loki as he smiles at you. 

Loki drops his hand to his lap and gives you a questioning look. “Would you like to talk about what made you so...” Loki waves his hands around. 

You look at the ground with a frown. “I just...I’m really frustrated with my magic right now, and it doesn’t help that we visit Madonna....My mother, tomorrow.”

Loki hums but lets you gather your words. 

“I just...When Thor mentioned I might be adopted I had hoped he was right only so I could find my family and maybe they would actually want me, that I would belong somewhere in a family.” You sigh. “Then I found out my real mother is even worse than my fake mother and sent someone to kill me. She couldn’t even do the dirty work herself.” You say with a glare at the floor. 

Loki brings a hand up and tilts your chin up to look at him. He stares deep into your eyes with a frown. “Have you not found a new family that loves and adores you?” 

At this you frown but realize what he means and your face softens. “I didn’t even realize....” You softly say, a little guilty.

Loki gives a small smile. “While they are not blood, they have come to care for you better than any blood family will. It took me some time to realize this too. With Thor I resented him, pushed him out, but I’ve come to realize that while he may not be blood, he cares for me just as much.” 

You nod at Loki who pulls his hand from your face and stands, then holds a hand out to you to help you stand. When you’re standing next to him he pulls you into his side and makes his way to the door with you. 

“I’ve yet to try these so called marshmallows, I think now would be a perfect time.” 

You gasp and look at Loki excited, breakdown completely forgotten. 

“Oh my gosh, there’s so many new flavors, they originally started as vanilla but now you can find some with coconut shavings on them and you can find some in chocolate too!” 

Loki smiles down as you childishly babble on about marshmallows. 

By the time you both make it to the kitchen you and Loki are in a rousing discussion about whether the death penalty should be abolished. Considering the death penalty still applies in Asgard, Loki believes it shouldn’t be abolished. He says he believes it gives more incentive to not do something bad. You rebuke him and tell him that it didn’t stop him from what he did and that shuts Loki up fast. You smirk at having won this debate. 

Loki leans against the counter and waits patiently as you search all the freaking cabinets for the marshmallows. As you search you question if you’ve ever even seen this much food outside of a grocery store. 

Finally, you find a bag of the mega marshmallows and give a little whoop. You turn and throw the bag to Loki who catches it without issue and looks at the bag with something akin to disgust and curiosity. 

“And you think I’m going to like these?” Loki says slowly. 

You giggle. “Jus open it and try them!”

Loki follows your command and uses a dagger to open the bag prim and proper instead of tearing it like a normal mortal might. 

When he reaches a hand in and touches the marshmallows for the first time you get giddy. His face softens and his eyes are like a puppies. 

“They’re so soft...” He whispers. 

You smile at Loki who shakes himself and pulls one out. He places the bag on the counter and then holds the marshmallow in front of him, eye level. He inspects it for a second then brings it to his nose and sniffs it. He lets out a noise of approval and bites into the fluffy thing. 

You closely watch his face and recognize that he truly likes it but his face quickly changes to one of disgust as he chews on the marshmallow. 

“It’s disgusting.” He states.

You smirk as you quickly move to grab the bag behind him on the counter. “Fine, I’ll give them to Thor then.” You turn and start to make your way to the door but Loki grabs your wrist.

“No, don’t you dare!” Loki yells. 

You turn around and smirk at the god. 

“So you like them then?” You ask, shaking the bag of marshmallows out of his reach.

Loki keeps a hold on your wrist but finishes off the rest of the marshmallow he still holds before he says, “I may approve of them, a bit.” Loki says with a look of defiance. 

“Hmm not good enough.” You say giving a tug at Loki’s hold but not enough to break it. 

“Yes. Yes, I like them!” 

You now full on smile at the god and hand him the bag of marshmallows. The god hugs them to his chest like he’s protecting a baby and glares at you. 

“Tell Thor to buy himself another bag, these are mine.” Loki says snootily. 

You laugh but come up with an idea and make your way to the cabinets again. Loki quietly watches you while eating marshmallows. 

When you’ve found a box of graham crackers and some Hershey’s chocolate you give a sound of happiness. Coming back to Loki you manage to steal one of his marshmallows and stick it on a fork. You place the graham crackers and a piece of chocolate on the counter and then look at Loki while holding the marshmallow up. Loki gives you a questionable look as he chews. You light a small ball of fire in your free hand and put it under the marshmallow and Loki looks on with great curiosity as the marshmallow expands a bit and becomes a little charred, melting.

You place the marshmallow on the cracker and chocolate and make it into a smores. Then you hand it to Loki who takes it without hesitation and takes a big bite into it. 

As you look at Loki you feel the butterflies in your stomach act up. Loki stands there hugging a bag of marshmallows to his chest with his right arm. In his left hand is a messy smores dripping down his fingers. His mouth is covered with chocolate and melted marshmallow. You have half a mind to lick it off of him. 

“Good?” Is all you ask. 

Loki stops, looks at the smores, and glances to you. 

“Quite messy but...” You raise a brow as Loki inspects the smores in his hand. “Yes, good.” 

You nod satisfied and see Thor enter the kitchen. 

“Ah, I see you’ve discovered smores!” 

“This is just the food for you Thor, it’s messy, just how you like to eat everything.” Loki says without barbs, more teasing. 

Thor laughs, “Do not forget who left the table with squashed peas in his hair then refused to be bathed.” 

You pique up at the mention of a good story, you’re sure, but the brothers don’t elaborate. Loki just scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“At any rate, you’re going to have to buy more marshmallows these are mine.”

Thor looks at you with a small smile. “Loki has never been fond of sharing.”

“I share just fine with people I like!” 

Thor purses his lips and squints then shakes his head a little. You laugh and look at Loki. 

“I mean, he has a point, I don’t think I’ve seen you share with anyone but me.” 

“That’s because I like you.” Loki says playfully indignant. At this he gives you his half eaten smores which you take and begin eating, as if trying to prove his point.

“Make sure to get messy, I’d like to lick the excess off your face, darling.”

You nearly choke on the bite you just took with a pitiful glance at Thor who just rolls his eyes and continues on into the kitchen. 

“My brother is insatiable.” Thor says from somewhere behind you. 

You swallow the bite you were choking on and slap Loki’s arm. Loki merely smiles down at you. You giggle a little while looking at Loki’s hoodie arm. He looks down and sees you’ve left smores on his arm when you slapped him. Before Loki can react Thor states, loudly, “No more food fights! Tony said the smell didn’t leave the room for hours even though the room was pristine!” 

You pout and Loki stops the pout with his index finger. Then he leans down and gives you a kiss. As he kisses you you can literally feel the sticky residues mixing. This causes you too pull away with a frown. 

“I can’t do this until we get clean, this is disgusting.” 

“Yes, it is.” Thor supplies from his spot at the oven. 

You laugh at Loki’s glare he sends Thor. 

When you glance behind you at Thor you see he’s making spaghetti. 

“When are you going to cook me something? That’s romantic.” You ask Loki before finishing the smores you have in your hand. 

“Goes both ways, sweetheart.” Loki says. 

You glare at Loki but realize it’s true and shrug. “Fair enough.” You say dropping the matter. 

“I’m going to take a shower, no kisses till your face is clean!” You yell as you walk out of the kitchen and leave Loki there with Thor. 

Pt. 15/Pt. 15.1/?

Tag list: @justfangirlthingies​ @emelieh99​ @high-functioning-lokipath​ @loveableasshole​ @mp0625​ 

[gallavictorious]

11x01 Reaction Post

Random thoughts on and reactions to 11x01; no careful analysis or anything, just the bits and pieces that's not likely to make it into meta proper but which I still want to make note of so I can go back later and remember what my initial reaction to the episode was (since my impressions are likely to change as the season unfolds). Mostly Gallavich related, because duh, but there's disordered rambling on a bit of everything. Under a cut (God I miss LJ sometimes) because this got long.

Ian looks damned good as the homocidal muscle. I don't do AU:s, but if I did... On the other hand, Frank as a member of the Chicago “Eight” looks like a werewolf. Less interested in that AU. And listen, I get that they couldn't get Emmy Rossum for this, but I really miss Fiona showing up in a few random olden day pictures. She's gone, but she's still a Gallagher dammit! Carl at the slaughter house looked weird – and part of me thought that was appropriate because slightly off editing would be a sweet way of communicating that it's all bollocks, but the rest of shots looked okay (Debbie as a milk maid and Frank as the aforementioned werewolf) or good (everything else) so no.

The sound of a baby crying is a horror matched only by persistent lack of sleep so I feel for Lip and Tami so much. Here's to all parents who managed to get through the first year without murdering anybody! I think that maybe you don't get enough credit... I, for instance, want to kill someone just hearing Freddie cry in the background for half a minute. Not sure it bodes too well for their relationship for them to be so ready to spend every night apart like Lip suggests, but a, what wouldn't you do for a good night's sleep, and b, love the thought of Lip spending more time at the old house. Could see them breaking up during the course of the season, though. Not sure how I feel about that – Tami's my favourite out of Lip's love interests, but having too many of the couples staying together all through the finale wouldn't feel quite right (for Shameless) and I don't see them breaking up Ian and Mickey or Kev and V. Don't really expect Sandy or Debbie to last either, but since it's more of a casual thing it might have more of a casual end.

Do you remember when the promo dropped and there was Concern about That Look on Ian's face after he kisses Mickey, and I tag theorized about it being because Mickey stole his coffee? Turns out there wasn't really A Look in the actual episode, but I sure as hell was right about the coffee, and I want noted somewhere. Maybe there should also be a small diploma? A golden statue seems a little over the top, but I mean, if you insist...

I appreciate that Ian is very adament about it being their money but when Mickey thinks it's their breakfast it's suddenly every man for himself. Do you share or not, Ian? Hmm? (Let the record show that I'm joking, please. Ian is damned right to take his toast back, and I say this as a “person most likely to steal their partner's toast right out of their hand”. I also love that Mickey completely gives up on breakfast when he can't have Ian's toast and just grabs a beer instead.) The kitchen scene is glorious and I just really like their dynamic here; the casual kiss, “I only make breakfast for husbands who have jobs”, how relaxed it is even when Ian's a bit annoyed, Mickey being so... Mickey. I do wonder what went through his head when Ian started talking about their wedding present money, though – he seems worried for a moment, but then shrugs it off, and that could be either bravado or just actual lack of concern. I tend mostly towards the latter, since Mickey quite genuinely figures this isn't a big deal (even though he still recognizes that Ian will probably think it one). Please note that he immediately offers to get money when Ian mentions that they need more of it coming in. Not his fault Ian vetoes his methods, right? (Also love that Ian's objection is due to him not wanting to be separated from Mickey, rather than any moral qualms about robbing stores.)

Okay, the gag ball. Would they really keep it like that if they were actually using it? Maybe either of them just tossed it there after taking it off, I suppose... Yeah, I don't know. Not what I'd imagined them being into, but that might be my own extreme lack of enthusiasm for gag balls and harnesses talking. Either they're into it and if so, you do you, boys, or it was a gift and they're keeping it around and semi-prominently on display for shits and giggles. (But if it was a gift, they did try it at least once, right?)

Mickey in the bath remains stupidly and surprisingly gorgerous. Incidentally, I really don't think his question about the meds is any indication of him not thinking them important, but there's little wonder that Ian bristles at the mention of them. Maybe not be an ass just to prove a point, eh, Mick?

I've already talked about how hard Ian is trying here but let's just take another moment to congratulate our boy on his persistent attempts at mature communication. Though he might have given some actual consideration to Mickey not wanting to save the money if he's really serious about them making decisions together... But he gets there! I think this whole situation – which would royally piss most people, including me, off – is actually particularly difficult for Ian, because he might well see Mickey's behavior as uncomfortably reminiscent of Frank and Monica's destructive habits and yeah, that would fuck him up. And still! He forces himself to calm down! He takes Mickey's hand! He refuses to let himself be distracted by Mickey looking SO INSANELY PRETTY I CANNOT EVEN UNDERSTAND IT! Ian, I salute you!

[starwars_eu_nerd_mode]KORRIBAN! YES! HA! TAKE THAT DISNEY! You take your new so-called “canon” and your “Moraband” and you fuck right off. I salute you, Bitcoin Boy![/starwars_eu_nerd_mode]

Ah, the porch scene... This one I do have a bunch of thoughs on that will probably make it into meta proper one day, so I'll leave it for now. It was the one that took the most thinking about for me to square (still not a lot, it should be noted), but now I'm actually very happy about it. (Full disclosure: none of their scenes feel quite right the first time I see them these days, because I'm just so very on edge about what's to come that I kind of miss the forest for all the trees you know? It's not a Shameless thing – it's always like this when I'm extremely invested in something and have waited for it for some time. Will it fit with how I see the characters? Will it be cringey? Will Mickey suddenly profess a love for hideous Hawaii shirts? Also, what are they saying because English is hard... But then I watch them a couple of times and they sink in and I start to get giddy over them. I guess watching actual canon unfold always requires a little bit of re-calibration if you've been busy fanoning while waiting for it to arrive, and while I love that sort of interpretative work, there’s also the fear that the show will veer off into a direction I cannot easily follow.)

Mickey's insistence that he spelled monogamy wrong does genuinely amuse me. Not to mention the whole “No more parking tickets for me!” - “You don't have a car, dumbass.” Also, Mickey being friendly with Carl kills me, in a good way. Family FTW!

Frank's storyline fails to stir even the vaguest hint of interest in me, as per usual. For all his talk of family in this episode, the lack of interaction with any of his kids is striking. If he's to have any value at all this season I'll need him to get involved in the rest of the Gallagher's storylines (which seems like it might be happening at least for a bit later on, so I'm vaguely hopeful?). I find but faint intrigue in Carl's and Debbie's stuff, but it doesn’t annoy me either so I'll call it a win. Kev and V are (almost) always a delight, but do anyone else feel like their kids are only props, even to them? I don't know... I just don't think there's a connection or sense of realness to their relationship, you know? Maybe it's just me... Anyway, here's to hoping V turning pageant mom changes all that! Oh, and I'll need Liam to have some more screentime and stuff to do.

The Tommy and Kermit thing was weird. Eh. Whatever.

Sandy is so gorgerous. I can't. The Milkoviches really be bringing it this episode.

This is only the second season I've watched episode by episode as it airs (other one was S6) and it's a curiuos experience. I think that by and large, and particularly in later seasons, Shameless works better when you binge it, but I love the delightful anticipation of waiting for a new episode and the feverent discussion that follows. Sometimes I also despair over the ferverent discussion that follows, but... you know. It is what it is. Admittedly, any attempts at meta this early in the season is a precarious venture at best, since we don't have the whole story, and it might be wiser to abstain but it's just so much fun, so I'm not very likely to stop.

All in all, I love the Gallavich stuff, am intrigued by Lip & Tami and Kev & V's lives, okay with whatever Debbie and Carl's got going on, hot for Sandy, bored by Frank, and missing Liam. It sets up a lot of promising things, but as an episode all unto itself it felt a bit empty – probably because there were no real plots and the storylines didn't intersect as much as I would have liked them to. Shameless is best when it's about family, which both the show and Frank seems to recognize, but there's little narrative follow-through on that realization in this episode; everyone is pretty much doing their own thing. Adored the Lip and Ian convo, and that house party scene was wonderful, but so short. Think we'll get more of all of them together going forward, though, and more actual plots too, so I'm very excited about it all. Can't wait for Sunday!

[exquisitley-obsessed]

I’m Right Here (part 1?)

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Arthur’s torn up over Mary, and his old friend and fellow gang member y/n drags his pitiful ass on a hunting trip; little do they know, they’re the ones about to be hunted.

Word Count: 3588

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader (some Arthur and Mary angst)

Warnings: Hunting, guns, etc.

A/N: Currently playing RDR2 so please no spoilers <3 Literally took five minutes for me to fall in love with this damn fool and so felt like I needed to write something angsty for him. There’ll probably be a part two to this. (Also this made me seriously realise I cannot spell ‘Arthur’ for the life of me)

REQUESTS OPEN <3

MASTERLIST

“Well he aint in a good mood.”

Abigail was standing near her tent blowing gently on her boiling coffee as she watched Arthur swing into camp, readily jumping off his horse and loosely throwing the reigns towards the hitching post.

“No, he don’t,” Y/n answered. She was sitting with Jack in her lap, watching as Arthur made his way to his tent, cursing venomously under his breath. “I overheard Dutch mention something about Mary being in Valentine - that she wanted to see him.” Y/n shared the gossip with her long-time best friend and fellow gang member.

“Really?” Abigail’s head snapped to y/n as she busied herself with Jack’s excited giggling and blubbering. “She’s got some nerve.”

“Ha!” Y/n chuckled to herself as she bounced Jack about, “You can say that again.”

“It aint a secret that none of us like her,”

“Yeah, someone that even Hosea isn’t a fan of…now that’s an accomplishment.”

“He knows how to pick ‘em,”

“Sure does,” y/n sighed, throwing a glance at Morgan. Watching Arthur and Mary run back and forth to one another was like watching a dog chase its tail – futile, funny and somewhat depressing. With there being such a tight knit in the Van Der Linde gang, Mary had always felt alien and other – like she was a piece that didn’t quite fit in a rather strange and elaborate puzzle. Y/n’s bitterness towards the woman had only grown as she watched Arthur yo-yo between complete euphoria one night to a mild mental break the next; ultimately, it hurt watching him day in and day out tie himself to the train tracks and look with woozy, loving eyes at the incoming train.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Abigail attempted to ask inconspicuously, dipping her nose into her mug as she took a swig. Y/n eyed her, Abigail had made it somewhat obviously clear she believed there to be something more between Arthur and y/n; y/n couldn’t figure out if she was amused or conflicted.

“Not since before this Blackwater mess…not a proper conversation like we used to have.” Y/n’s attention now back on the bubbling child pulling at her braid.

“Not had the chance?”

“Well, no.” She didn’t look at Abigail, “Everything blew up and…Dutch aint been letting me out on any of missions recently so I can’t talk to him then. Not with how badly things went for me in Blackwater.” Y/n was talking about her bandaged right arm, still pink and puckering from that night. When the pandemonium erupted on the waters, y/n found herself caught in a minor explosion when some TNT barrels were caught in the crossfire. The result was a degree of burns lashed across most of her right arm. Dutch, seeing her like a daughter, reacted in a rather extreme and protective manner – extreme by y/n’s standards at least.

“It’s a goddamn joke you know, I have to prove myself to be twice as better just to be even considered to go on missions. They all treat me like I’m gone break or something – I been shooting longer than most of them too.” Abigail nodded along hazily; the gang was somewhat used to y/n’s frequent outbursts and rants, having never been one much for holding her tongue. However, they couldn’t blame here; it was just a result of her start in life.

“Now’s a good time y/n - go take him hunting or something,” Abigail was still peering at Arthur over her mug.

“Hunting?”

“Yeah, you can get some fresh air, help him clear his head and also bring back something Pearson could turn edible.”

“Dutch aint letting me leave camp right now-”

“Oh, come on! You know he’d let you go if Arthur was with you”

“Abi-”

“Don’t fight me on this y/n. He’s hurting, it’s obvious, you’re the only one he’s ever…you know…” Y/n raised a brow at Abigail who simply looked away; she couldn’t figure out what she hated more, the assumptions or the fact that y/n’s heart twinged slightly at the thought of going hunting with Arthur, it being just like old times.

“Fine,” Y/n huffed scooping Jack up under the arm, “Here’s your son back.” Jack’s chubby little fingers reached out for his momma as his aunt handed him over, “But I’m doing this for you.”

“And Arthur,”

“And Arthur.” Letting out a sigh, y/n made her way over to the closed flaps of Arthur’s tent, picking up her hunting jacket along the way. Pausing, she took a breath, before rapping her knuckles across the wooden frame of his camp. “Arthur it’s me.” A pause, a small rustle from within and then he was there, looking down at y/n with a raised brow.

“Miss y/n,” He tried out the words in his mouth, as if her name was a question in itself, “What you doing here?”

“Oh, so I can’t just come and see Mr Morgan whenever I please…is there a queue I need to join?” She feigned looking around.

“Oh, don’t give me that – you know you aint come knocking on my tent for weeks now.”

“Well Arthur, I don’t know if you remember but there was that whole business of Blackwater that somewhat got in the way of our nightly strolls.” Arthur pulled back a little, his brows knitting as he frowned down at her.

“What’s going on y/n? What you want?”

“You really think every time I come see you I want something…I mean, actually now that you say-”

“Y/n-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, Morgan! Come on,” She smirked up at him, he shook and lowered his head, his russet hat covering his face leaving only his strong set jaw and bristly beard visible in the candlelight. A grin had melted into his cheeks and y/n couldn’t help but feel a soft flutter in her gut, he was heartbroken over Mary and yet she could still make him to smile. “I was actually letting you know that I’m going hunting, I thought you might wanna join y’know, ride out like old times,”

“Dutch letting you go?” He asked, leaning against the wagon. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh please; Dutch this, Dutch that. Can’t a girl just live?”

“I don’t know y/n, you banged yourself up real good at Blackwater if I remember correctly,” He nodded at her mummified arm.

“I’m fine, besides, it aint my shooting arm,”

“Y/n…” He sighed.

“Come on…fine. If I can convince Dutch to let me go, will you join me? We’ll take the camp and really do it like old times, stay out all night and catch birds as the sun rises.” Arthur gave her a look as if he was on the fence, but that usually already meant he was coming. Y/n didn’t even wait for a response, just smiled real wide and started walking backwards toward Dutch, “Saddle up and meet me by the horses in 10.” Arthur just shook his head and batted her away, disappearing back inside.

Turning around, y/n tiptoed her way past Dutch’s own quarters, peeking in slightly she caught the sight of him in deep discussion with Hosea. Well, there’s no point in disturbing what seems like such an important conversation. Instead, y/n chose to make her way back to Abigail where she could quickly grab a few things before setting off.

“So, you going then?” Abigail grinned up at her, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,”

“Oh good,” Abigail clapped her hands together. Y/n simply rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You tell Dutch?”

“Um, not quite,”

“What do you mean?” Abigail raised a brow, always the ever-worried mother.

“Come on Abigail, you know Dutch won’t let me out, especially not for a whole night.”

“Course he will, you’re with Arthur,”

“No Abi, I don’t think he will,” Y/n paused her packing and met Abigail’s stare.

“What do you mean?” Her tone was tense.

“Look, Dutch has been treating me real weird since Blackwater, he won’t let me out of his sight. He won’t even let me do watch, no, I stay here in camp where he can see me and do chores. Which would be fine, but we all know that I’m much better out there, in the big wide world.” Y/n returned to packing, “He’s just got spooked from Blackwater a lil and you know how he sees me, he raised me and all.”

“So…what’s your plan?”

“Well…I guess I don’t have one.” Abigail let out a frustrated huff, “Look, don’t be mad! It aint your fault and I can handle Dutch when I get back. I thought tonight I’d focus on Arthur, wasn’t that your plan, come on now Abi.” Abigail simply responded with one of her infamous motherly glares, hands on hips and everything.

“Okay, but it’s getting dark so you best head off now before you loose your way, and y/n…” Bag now packed, y/n was half way out of the tent when she stopped, “Be careful…”

Y/n grinned back.

“Always am.”

 ***

“So, where you wanna go?”

Arthur and y/n had ridden their way out into the fields, far away from any signs of life or civilisation. Free at last. “Since you’re in such a sour mood I’ll let you choose.” Arthur sent her a glare.

“You know, you talking about how sour my mood is…aint making it any less sour.”

“Why are you in a sour mood anyways?” Y/n peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. Their horses had slowed into a rhythmic trot as the flowers and fields passed them by.

“Mary.” It was a gruff, clipped response; but it was enough. Arthur never needed to elaborate on his problems with Mary, it was common knowledge amongst the gang. Hell, it was obvious from day one what was going to eventually happen between the two. “Here, let’s stop here.”

“I’m sorry to hear bout it,” Y/n pulled her horse to a steady stop as they strolled onto a circular ledge, looking out on a cliff drop and the rolling hills that followed, the greenery not stopping until it blurred into the horizon.

“Are you?” Arthur said after a moment, his eyes busy assessing the terrain.

“Arthur,” Y/n snapped to him as if he had hit her, “You know I do.” The two stared at each other, a standoff, then he seemed to soften a little.

“Yeah, yeah I know you do y/n don’t worry. Don’t know what got into me. She’s messing with my head is all.”

“You can say that again,” y/n turned back to her horse, unpacking all the bits and bobs. She began to get a fire going, the crackling flames warming her back as she moved to stand near the ledge, looking out at all the little people and all their little lives.

“Wait stay still a second,” Arthur called out to y/n who of course, didn’t.

“What you doing?” She questioned walking over to him as he fumbled about in his satchel.

“I said stay still woman…almost got it…here.” He pulled out a small, metal box with a look of triumph. “Now,” He instructed holding it up to his face, “Go back to where you were standing.”

“Okay,” Y/n agreed cautiously, walking backwards a few paces, “Here? Wait…you’re not taking a photo of me are you Arthur?”

“What?” He asked, looking up and shrugging his shoulders as if there were no problem.

“Oh Arthur, I don’t want no photos of me taken,”

“Why?”

“Because…” She trailed off. It had been so long since someone had offered to take a photo of her. When it happened, she had venomously refused, spitting out something about keeping her identity secret. But now, looking at Arthur’s innocent smile as he gestured toward the camera, all ideas of protesting against the photo seemed futile. “Oh, all right then, but if I look real bad promise me we’ll burn it on the fire.”

Arthur said nothing, simply smiled wide before holding the camera up to his face once more. Suddenly, she felt incredibly self-conscious of her appearance, her hair was lazily knotted in a braid to keep it away from her face, she was wearing her old work pants and one of John’s old shirts that he had grown out of. She wondered if he thought she was pretty, she wondered if that’s why he wanted a photo of her – she pushed those thoughts away and swallowed. A quick flash, mechanic clunk and it was over.

“Lemme see, lemme see!” Y/n bounded over to Arthur, reaching out for the camera but Arthur swept it out of her grasp holding it high above her head.

“Just wait woman! God…gotta let it develop first then you can see, and then burn it,”

“I was kidding Arthur! You want a photo of me so bad I’ll let you have one – but it’s the only one you getting so you better cherish it.”

“Oh, I will,” He sighed, turning back to the camp and the fire, “I will.” He muttered once more under his breath, his eyes glossy and happy as he carefully rested the camera near his bag.

“Come on, we best settle down,” Y/n sighed, her fingers resting near her gun. The two hunched down together near the edge of the cliff, their feet sloping down with the ground as they watched the last few hours of light spill across the landscape.

“Well if we’re going about this the old way,” Arthur grunted after a moment, before twisting round and grabbing a box from behind him, swinging it around y/n’s eyes widened as she realised what Arthur had snuck off camp.

“Uncle’s secret stash of whiskey,” Y/n stared wide eyed at the crate, “Arthur you didn’t!” She half gasped, half grinned.

“You said it would be just like old times,” He hazily smiled at her, pulling out a bottle and squeezing off the cap. He then looked around, conflicted, “Uh, I didn’t think to grab any cups.”

“Oh, it don’t matter Morgan,” Y/n grinned, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig straight from the lip, “If we’re really doing it like old times, it won’t matter.”

Arthur looked at y/n then, really looked at her. The time of his life when she wasn’t in it had always felt hazy, it had always appeared to him that she had simply just been there, like Hosea and Dutch, even John. Dutch had bundled her home after finding her on the street, she had tried and almost successfully robbed him as he headed back home. She was young, too young to have been living life like that and yet, weren’t they all. He remembered shooting lessons with her John and Dutch as Hosea dipped in and out with scattered pieces and parts of plans.

There had been a time when he was sweet on her. Really sweet on her. They were young, growing up in a wild world where it felt like anything could happen. He never told her, life just seemed to get in the way and, after a while, he just figured she wasn’t into him like that. Maybe there was a part of him that would always be sweet on her, like the way he could never seem to shake away Mary. No, that’s not right. Mary and y/n were different, always had been different and always would be. But then again, what did Arthur Morgan know about love, about women?

“I…have this theory,” She turned to him suddenly, shattering apart his worried thoughts and replacing them with a warm glow.

“Theory? What you doing getting all philosophical on me?” The corner of his eyes crinkled as he grinned back.

“I aint getting philosophical Arthur, it’s just an idea-”

“Okay, okay,” He held up his hands in defence, “What’s this big idea, hm?”

“So…with this Mary business…I think that all she done this past while is talk about how you aint ever gone change, and my theory is that…that aint fair,”

“How come?”

“Because her asking you to give up this life, is exactly like you asking her to give hers; and…I don’t think love should be like that.” The liquor was loosening her tongue, making her slosh a little with her words, “I don’t think you should have to change yourself for love.”

“But aint that the point?” Arthur pondered after a beat, “That love changes you, makes you a better man and what not.” Y/n’s nose crinkled.

“Sure but…there’s a difference between growing with someone compared to changing who you are just so you don’t give them a bad reputation when you walk down the street together,” Arthur reared back a little but ultimately understood there was no malice behind her words, it was just the ugly truth. “I feel like,” She continued, now on a roll, “Mary aint in love with you…or maybe she was at one point but now it’s…I don’t know, hell, the only time I ever met the woman she barely said two words to me.” A soft chuckle, “But…I feel like she’s in love with this version of you, in her head. There’s a reason everyone back at camp, especially the girls, don’t like her Arthur. It’s because she aint like us, she aint ever had to worry about when her next meal gone be or if she’ll get the privilege of sleeping in a bed that night or…”

Arthur’s eyes were steady on the sunset, watching as it swam down over the horizon, disappearing into an inky, spotted night. The sky was surprisingly dull for a sunset, no explosion of colours as the sun sunk lower, no ecstasy of oranges and pinks – just an ever-expanding dull grey hue.

“I don’t like saying it Arthur,” y/n was still going, “Because I know you love her and I know an ounce of love is more than any of us deserve – but please…stop hurting yourself over her, I can’t take it anymore.” Arthur turned his head slightly to the side, peeking at y/n; he wasn’t necessarily upset by what she was saying, just numb to it. I mean, if he didn’t have Mary, then what did he have?

Silence blanketed them as the sun and its warmth slipped over the edge of the world, leaving the cold to creep in from all sides; only battled by the spluttering warmth of the fire. Arthur looked at her, really looked at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving her y/n.” A pause. He waited for her reaction.

“I know.” She did, and her heart ached for it.

***

The mood and pace picked up from then on. With the world at rest around them, being out in the open night with a crate of whiskey and a wheezing fire – it was enough to feel like they were the only ones who were truly alive. Perhaps, in that moment, they were. Old friends who knew each other better than they knew themselves. A conversation concocted with a mix of reminiscing of the past, laughing about the present, and theorising about the future.

Arthur told y/n that she was going to be married before she knew it. Y/n politely told Arthur that the only instance in which she would ever marry would be for money. Arthur laughed and commented on how it was money that was ruining his relationship, not building it.

They talked about Dutch, about how much they had grown from being scared kids with guns too big for their hands. And all of a sudden, Mary felt a million miles away - Mary didn’t even feel important anymore.

They drank themselves silly, forgetting about the whole point of their little getaway in the first place. Eventually, they curled up against the shrubbery, lying on their backs and looking up at the bottomless sky above them. Not even talking, just enjoying for a moment how the world was spinning underneath them.

***

When Arthur awoke the first thing he noticed was the dryness of his throat. Wincing, he coughed some of the dust out of his lungs as he sat up and then lay back down again, the weight of his head pulling him back.

“God damn.” He grunted – how much had he drank? Still, standing up he shook the dust off him, he knew he had gone through worse, an infamous night with Lenny ringing a bell. The sun was high in the sky meaning that he had slept through all, if not most, of the morning. Sighing he looked around for y/n. And looked again. Something wasn’t right.

She wasn’t there; not curled up next to him, not draped across the sleeping rolls, not near the horses – nowhere. She was gone. An ugly, familiar knot twisted its way into Arthur’s gut. Trying to douse the fire inside of him he calmed himself with the idea that she could have just gone for a walk or pulled through on the hunting after all – but her horse was still there.

“Oh no…no…no.” He choked standing up. He couldn’t lose her, not now. His fears climaxed, his whole world skidding to a stop as he noticed a note made from rich paper taped to the whiskey box.

Arthur Morgan,

You don’t seem to want to talk about Dutch. Maybe your friend will.

-        P

Numb, he went completely numb. But that feeling didn’t compare to when he had eventually stumbled back into camp, the note limb by his side as looked up and saw an irate Dutch waiting for him, his eyes black.

“Where, the hell, is she Morgan?”

next part

[phytolacca-a]

A writeup on my most recent try on ABAXACATABAX charms:

I’m reuploading this with additions. I DO NOT intend this to be a How To post. I’m just wanting to share what I did as well as possible expansions since it’s a pertinent time.

Intended Use: Driving out (and protecting from) all sickness and illness for my immediate family members and I. Particularly to help fight against the virus going around. I feel that this charm can be very versatile in application, so I decided to test how it’d work for this situation.

(From Folk Witchcraft, Roger Horne)

Result Findings/Thoughts, My Procedure, Etc.:

————————————————————————-

TLDR, Current Results/Thoughts: 

- 3/18/20: So far the only thing I’ve been told is that last Monday night (the night after I gave the charms to the 3), they each separately noticed they slept much better than usual and the two who wake up super early slept in a longer (healthy) amount. They each noticed this unrelated to each other, and I never mentioned anything about sleeping to them or even when thinking about the effects. My hopeful guess is this: the good-sleeping effect, presumably by the charm, is related to how getting better and restful sleep is associated with strengthening the immune system and helps get rid of sickness. I will see how it goes going forward.

- Edit, 3/21/20: I feel as though the biggest tests of these charms will be in the next week or two. Will be looking out for any hard notice of it working.

- Edit #2, 3/21/20: I believe I’ve noticed the method of which these charms might work through. I made these, or at least started, in the hour of the Sun on a Sunday. It’s occurred to me that the “drive out sickness” aspect is possibly more... prevalent, violent than expected. But although there have been correlations of sickness bubbling up and either dissipating or exiting the body while wearing the charm, that’s all I can say currently- there’s correlations. But I do believe that a main aspect of this charm is turning out to actually physically drive out whatever sickness from the wearer, at least in some capacity.  So far, here’s what the others have said: My grandmother has said that she believes it seems to be working as intended, as she’s said “Well I think it must be working as I could have been a lot worse off” (in talking about something that happened, related to my correlation of it possibly helping literally drive out sickness.) My stepfather has told me that he’s felt that the charm has been protecting him from getting sick since wearing it, as he travels most of the week and has not gotten ill from the heightened human contact. But like I said, the true tests I think are in the next coming weeks. Will be on the lookout.

————————————————————————-

Prep:

I did this last Sunday, starting in the hour of the Sun although I didn’t end up finishing within the hour. I gave offerings to the Sun in asking for aid in my magic working. I had Elderberries and Bay Leaves, paper, pen & pencil, felt and thread. I can’t find the pestle to my mortar so I tried using a blunt end of something in a bowl. Spoilers: trying to crush the Elderberries like that did not work very well at all. I also took inspiration in preparation from Gemma Gary’s Traditional Witchcraft for charmmaking.

Working:

I began by trying to cast a circle.

I cut out 4 3x3in pieces of paper. I then began writing the ABAXACATABAX charm out in pencil. On the other side, I wrote down what the charm is to do which is something I neglected to last time I tried this. I then drew the symbol of the Sun above the will.

This is when I began empowering the attributes. I poured dried Elderberries into a bowl and began trying to pound and crush them into a powder. While I did this, I closed my eyes and continuously repeated what I wanted it to do loud as I pounded the berries. This went on for a long time, probably a longer time than I realized.

Even though this crushing didn’t actually work (most of them were mostly whole…) I felt like I managed to do what I was going for anyways even if I didn’t get powder out of it.

After this I began to go over the penciled words in ink, to finalize what I wrote. Because I was just tracing, I was able to start chanting again forcefully. And again I slipped into that sort of state where I could just repeat it without thinking about it. Whenever I became aware of myself saying the words, I would switch up the phrasing and slip back in until I became aware again.

After this, I put some Elderberries in the center of the paper and folded it like how Gemma Gary’s book described. Four corners in, fold, fold, then making the cloth holders for the charm. Before/while I did that though, I put the folded papers on a tray, circled them in Elderberries and sat a candle right in the middle of them to hopefully empower them more. I used what I had to make portable holders for the charms, which was red felt and white thread. I tried to empower a bay leaf as I took it into four pieces to place inside the little pouches as I was almost done stitching the sides. I grabbed a pinchful of Elderberry not-powder and put some in. I then picked up each charm paper and placed them in, ending off with a little bit more Elderberry and stitched it up.

I made little loops in the felt to place cord through to wear.

After they were all sealed up, I lit another candle (the only one I had at the time was a little red one) in wanting them to soak in extra continuous juice. I lit some incense. I passed each charm into and through the smoke from underneath it to seal them. I then left the charms around the second candle for the rest of the night; I kept reading Gemma Gary mention leaving spells and charms to “cook” so I figured I’d try even though I don’t have a proper working altar or anything yet.

Possible Issues:

Other than the fact I said that making these charms might have been the messiest spellworking I’ve done yet, there’s one large thing. The good news, is this is only for me and shouldn’t effect the other charms. When I was folding the first charm paper, one of the Elderberries I had in there popped out and ripped the paper. I made sure not to let that happen to the others, and made sure to give myself the possibly faulty charm as I’m in the least danger. This might render my specific charm bunk. Or at least, maybe not as strong as it should be or would be. But I’m not entirely sure this even negatively affected it at all; which would be cool if it didn’t! If I find out it did, I’ll just end up redoing mine.

The other issue was the timeframe. This goes into the messiness, but I took SO much longer than I thought I would making these. I started at the start of the Sun’s hour, and ended sometime in Mercury’s hour. I don’t know yet how exactly this affected my working, if at all?

I’ve yet to do divination on this working.

Things I’d Like to Consider for Changes/Additions:

I think that there’s worth in a change in planetary approach; I’ve been discussing a little bit of this with someone who utilized Mercury rather than the Sun for the charm which seems to have turned out less seemingly violent in approach and rather more preservative-protective. So, something I think I will consider more are other combos rather than just utilizing the Sun, possibly adjusting for the context of the situation of use. I’d still like to feed the charms semi regularly to continue the usage, so I might utilize the different combos of planets in the way I refuel/feed? Not sure, but I’ll be considering it. 

But yeah. I’m hopeful for these charms and I’ll be continuing to monitor them as time goes on!!

[thathopelessromantic]

Reckless Good (6/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Fic Rating: Explicit Chapter Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku Note: Thanks again for your amazing support so far! I really appreciate all of you and your comments have been making my weeks since posting <3 This fic will be going on a short hiatus...I'm not sure how long it will be but July has been shockingly busy this year and has only continued to get crazier so I need a little more time to write more of this fic 

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x) Beginning/Chapter One: (x) Previous Chapter: (X) TDDKBB2021 Companion Art: (X)

It’s been three days since the debriefing, and Shouto hasn’t been able to think about much else besides the weirdness of everything that happened in the meeting. Even now, standing under the scalding spray of his shower, he’s going through the motions, but his mind is in the hallway outside the conference room with Ingenium.

“I’m sorry about lying to you regarding Architect,” Ingenium had said solemnly. They’ve grown and their costumes had both changed since then, but without his helmet on, head bent to discuss something quietly, Shouto was reminded of the in-class exercises they used to do in high school. Off to the side in a hallway, as if creating a strategy. Somehow adult-Ingenium had gotten even more serious than his high school counterpart. “I know it was wrong to mislead you, but I knew he meant no harm. I knew he could help with Kou.”

“How?” Shouto had asked, but even then he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“…I’ve worked with him before,” Ingenium admitted. “I know the law, but he…he just wants to help people. And he does good hero work.”

Ingenium couldn’t say afterwards if he thought Architect would still somehow help the case. He knew he would want to, but with more people involved, and more people who knew he had been there before, it would be harder. Shouto can’t articulate exactly why, but somehow knowing he might be what brings more scrutiny towards Architect makes him feel…guilty? It’s not his fault that he didn’t know, nor is it his fault Architect is technically doing something illegal, but he feels guilty anyways.

Shouto’s phone chimes just as he steps out of the shower. Even before he checks it, he knows it’s a new text from Midoriya. While Shouto has thought of little else but the weirdness that had transpired at the debriefing for the last three days, Midoriya has acted as if it never happened. He had been quiet the rest of the day afterwards, but the next day Midoriya had picked up their text chat where they had left off as if nothing had happened. The few times Shouto tried to broach the topic of Midoriya’s behavior at the debriefing, his contacts with heroes, the vigilante Architect, anything from the debriefing, all he got was an abrupt subject change or radio silence for a few hours. After a day and a half of the back and forth, Shouto gave up pushing the subject. For now.

Shouto slings a towel around his hips and grabs his phone off the counter. There’s a new picture attached to the message. Midoriya’s scarred hand holds a large navy book out in front of the camera. The sidewalk serving as a background and the blurred edges of the image suggests he was walking somewhere as he took the picture.

I found a copy of the book!! The text underneath reads.

Shouto can’t make out any title in the picture, but he knows what book it is anyways. There was only one they had really discussed in-depth that would warrant such an excited text. It was an early study of dual quirks. Apparently, according to Midoriya, some of the information and conclusions they came to is now outdated but it is still considered one of the best introductory texts for understanding how dual quirks come about with inheritance. He had been suggesting it to Shouto practically since they had started their text conversation.

Another text comes in before Shouto can come up with a reply.

I can keep this copy in my office, if you would like to come by for it sometime.

Shouto wouldn’t mind going by the professor’s office again. It wasn’t that far out of his way, and it would be a good excuse to see him and talk to him some more – either about quirks, or whatever the hell was going on at the debriefing in an environment he can’t escape so easily. But as he mentally goes through his schedule thinking of a time he might be able to get there, it would be at least another week, if not two.

Shouto grimaces, running a hand over his face.

between normal wrk nd this new case itll be a while…

Of course I understand you’re busy! Oh unless you wanted to read it sooner

Shouto glances at the time. He still has almost two and a half hours before his next shift starts. It would be enough time. Probably. Depending on how long it takes to get Midoriya to agree. He has an idea but he knows Midoriya isn’t going to like it.

are u in musutafu now?

Yes. Of course! I could drop it off at your agency!

i was thinking just my apartment

Shouto puts his phone down to find something to wear. He doesn’t usually wear normal clothes under his uniform, but he figures he has a little while before he needs to change into it. He expects to get a flurry of messages protesting his suggestion as he finds and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, but a full three minutes pass before his phone chimes with another message. It just reads: what, lacking even Midoriya’s usual proper grammar and capitalization.

Shouto snorts. He knew he wasn’t going to like it.

im at the hospital on guard today and ill be out of the office the next few days. it would be quicker

That does set off the flurry of texts he expected the first time, Midoriya insisting that wasn’t necessary and he didn’t need to read it that quickly and a few that just said no a few times. The texts are still coming in, the notification that he’s typing still lit up on the screen, when Shouto presses the phone icon next to his name and starts a call.

The phone starts to ring. And then continues to ring for so long, Shouto thinks he’s going to go to voicemail, when Midoriya suddenly answers. There’s a shuffle on the other line for a moment.

“Entro-er, Todoro…hello?” Midoriya says.

“Hello, Midoriya,” Shouto replies.

Shouto’s simple greeting seems to knock Midoriya out of his stupor, because he immediately jumps back into his protests, picking right back up where he left off in his texts. Shouto waits until he has to stop to take a breath.

“I figured you would really frown upon me texting you my address, so I thought I’d call. Do you have something to write with?”

Midoriya sputters for a moment before he sighs. “You…yeah, go ahead.”

Shouto blinks in surprise. He really expected more of a protest than that. Still, he rattles off the address before Midoriya comes to his senses and changes his mind. Midoriya has him repeat it once, just to be sure he copied everything down correctly.

“Okay. I guess I will see you in a few minutes,” Midoriya says, sounding resigned.

Shouto almost laughs at the tone. “You don’t actually have to bring it to me if it’s any trouble. I can get it from the office eventually.”

“No, I don’t mind and it’s not that far out of the way actually,” Midoriya admits. “I’m a little concerned by your complete disregard for privacy or self-preservation but otherwise, it’s no trouble.”

“‘A lack of self-preservation and privacy’ is pretty much in my job description.”

Midoriya sighs. There’s some quiet mumbling Shouto can’t make out through the phone before Midoriya seems to give up on arguing the point for the moment and says his goodbye.

Shouto plugs his phone in by the bed to charge until he has to leave. Monarch and Momo still haven’t let go of the last time his phone died while he was on duty and he’s sure even being away from the agency for the next few days won’t save him from their ire if it happens again.

Shouto is still toweling off his hair when there’s a knock on his door. He glances at the clock on his wall, but even without the visual confirmation, he knows it has only been a few minutes since his call with Midoriya had ended. It was unlikely he found his apartment that quickly. He throws the towel over the bar in the bathroom and grabs a t-shirt on his way out of his room.

He opens the front door, expecting to see one of his neighbors in the hall. Instead, it is Midoriya staring at him from the other side of the door. He looks almost the exact same as the first time they had met with his thin, crooked wire frame glasses and oversized leather satchel hanging at his side. Though he had replaced his ill-fitting cardigan with a Froppy sweatshirt and a jean jacket over a button-up. Midoriya’s eyes scan over him quickly, pausing briefly at his middle before jumping back to his face and then to the space next to his head.

“Hello,” Midoriya manages quietly.

Shouto tugs the bottom of his shirt the rest of the way down.

“Hello. I…wasn’t expecting you to find the place so quickly,” he replies simply.

“Um, yes, it was closer than I realized too,” Midoriya finally looks him in the eye again, only to look away a moment later to bow his head. “I’m sorry, I should have announced myself somehow.”

“It’s fine, Midoriya. I’m glad you didn’t have to go too far out of your way.”

They stand in an awkward silence for a moment before they both seem to remember themselves and try to speak again.

Midoriya fumbles with the leather bag at his side, searching for the book. “Right, I’m sure you need to finish getting ready for work-” he starts to say.

At the same time, Shouto steps back, opening his door further. “Would you like to come in?”

Midoriya stares at him in surprise for a moment before his gaze jumps to something behind Shouto, brow furrowing.

“Todoroki, do you live alone?”

“Um, yes?” Shouto glances over his shoulder but doesn’t see whatever it was that Midoriya must have seen.

He turns back around, but Midoriya is still staring hard at something in the distance.

“Midoriya, what did-"

A loud crash of breaking glass cuts off the rest of Shouto’s question. Midoriya reacts a second before him, grabbing Shouto’s arm and throwing them both down the hall, away from his door as flames erupt in the apartment behind him.

They tumble to the ground. Shouto lands hard on his back as they roll for a moment, the floor below him and Midoriya landing heavily on top of him knocking the air from his lungs. One of Midoriya’s hands cushioned his head in the fall, but he pulls it back quickly as if Shouto burned him.

Midoriya quickly lifts himself up, carefully checking Shouto over. “Are you alright?”

Shouto nods, not yet ready to try speaking again. The sound of a vicious fire cracks behind them and the smell of smoke is already starting to fill the hallway. Whatever was thrown has a fast-moving fire and Shouto can feel the heat even from a few feet away.

“Will your fire alarm alert the authorities?”

Shouto pushes himself to a sitting position . “Don’t have a fire alarm,” he chokes out. They really need to move. “They go off too easily.”

Midoriya stares at him for a moment like he’s lost his mind before realization dawns. “Right your quirk would probably make that a pain. Okay, I’ll call for help. But we need to get as many people out as we can before they get here.”

Shouto climbs to his feet, using the wall to hold himself up for the moment. Everything seems to feel okay, so he doesn’t think he’s injured, just winded. Midoriya looks worried but he still scrambles to his feet a moment later.

“I can get my upstairs neighbors out,” Shouto says.

“I’ll help everyone below evacuate,” Midoriya offers before Shouto has barely finished speaking. He takes off for the stairwell, glancing back at the last second. “Be careful, Todoroki.”

Shouto stares after him for a moment, incredulous. ‘I’m the pro in this situation,’ he wants to remind Midoriya. ‘And probably marginally more fire-resistant than you.’ “You too,” is all he manages instead as the stairwell door swings shut behind Midoriya. Faintly, Shouto remembers another time he watched a civilian run head-long into trouble, but he brushes off the otherwise long-forgotten memory. It was so long ago, he’s not sure what dredged up the old memory, but dwelling on it won’t help anyone right now.

Shouto forces himself away from the door and his desire to go after the apparently reckless, mysterious, crazy-overachieving civilian he just let run into danger and heads for his closest neighbor. There are only three apartments on each floor. The one next to him has been empty for months, and usually both of the Fukudas were at work during this time of day, but he pounds on the door just to be safe, calling for them both. Smoke is finally beginning to fill the hallway and he knows it will only be another minute or two before the fire itself begins to crawl its way out of the apartment too.

Shouto breaks through the door, calling for either of the Fukudas to answer as he darts through the handful of rooms laid out in a mirror of his own familiar apartment. Satisfied that it is empty, he goes back to the hall heading for the stairs. He can feel his right side rapidly growing colder as his quirk tries to regulate his body temperature. The overheated air burns his already sore chest as he runs.

Shouto is already shouting as he reaches the next floor, hoping to alert as many of his neighbors as he can. One door opens as he throws himself down the hall, an older woman looking at him suspiciously through the crack in her door. For once he’s thankful for his unique appearance because he sees recognition dawn on her a moment later, even without his hero suit.

“A fire started on the floor below, I’m trying to evacuate everyone on this floor and the next, if you have anyone home with you, get them!”

The woman nods in understanding, throwing her door open and running back into the apartment calling for someone. Shouto goes to the next closest apartment, banging on the door and calling for anyone who might be inside. The door to the apartment next door opens and a man looks out.

“What is all the racket about? They went to their parents for the week, no one is in there.”

“The apartment is empty right now?”

The man glares at him, but Shouto pushes on before he can start an argument with him. The first woman comes out of her apartment with her grandson and a small dog in tow. “Sir, there is a fire on the floor below. We’re evacuating everyone.”

The man still looks like he wants to argue, but a moment later the sound of sirens grows louder as help arrives on the scene and that seems to be enough to convince him to cooperate. The three tenants follow him up the stairs to the last floor. Two of the three doors are already open, the tenants looking out obviously wondering what all the noise is about. The woman and her grandson greet one of the two women, immediately filling them in on what’s going on. Shouto goes to the last door.

“She’s at work,” one of the women calls to him. “She lives alone. Except for a cat.”

Shouto nods his thanks for the information. “I’ll go in to get the cat. Do either of you have a window that faces the front of the building?”

The other woman raises her hand. “I do!”

“Please take everyone into your apartment, clear a space in front of the window if necessary and I’ll be there in just a moment.” Shouto instructs. He waits just a moment to make sure everyone is complying before he forces the last door open. The cat in question makes itself known immediately, rushing to the door crying for attention before it realizes he is not their owner. The cat turns tail and darts deeper into the apartment.

Cursing, Shouto uses ice to create a small blockade in the hall that leads to the bedroom and bathroom, limiting the cat’s escape routes as he darts after it, sliding across the hardwood floor leading into the hallway. He catches himself on the wall just as the cat skids to a halt before the ice, trying to turn quickly but the floor is more slippery than its accustomed to and Shouto manages to grab it as it struggles to find its footing. He gets a few heavy scratches across his arms for his trouble, and the cat does its best to escape his hold, but he manages to get it out of the apartment. He wishes he had his tool belt on him, where he might have something that could contain the cat better, and make it easier to transport, but even if the fire-resistant fabric had lasted this long, it wasn’t worth it to try and get back into his apartment for it.

He rejoins his neighbors in the other apartment. Along with the three from the first floor, there are the two women from this floor, one of whom clutches a still-sleeping baby to her chest. From the window he can see the ambulance and two fire engines that have already arrived. And based on the sounds in the distance, the police and at least one more ambulance would not be far behind. Someone offers to take the disgruntled cat from him as he throws open the window.

Smoke is billowing from a window on a lower floor, obscuring his line of sight for a moment as the winds shift. Shouto swears under his breath, he can feel his neighbors growing anxious behind him, but he knows he needs a clear shot of the ground for this to work. It takes a few minutes for the view to clear enough for him to see a good landing place. By then a few people from the lower floors have started to evacuate, and he can see the first responders meeting them as they come out. He can’t tell from here if Midoriya is with them yet, though he has a feeling the answer is no.

Pushing his concerns aside for the moment, Shouto takes a deep breath to focus. Even after all these years of playing catch up, he still has a much better control of his right side than his left, but the overheated air is already putting a strain on his right side as it keeps his body cool. He creates an ice ramp, or perhaps more accurately a slide, from the window to the ground besides one of the fire engines. It’s as far as he dares to go to keep the slide from being too steep without also becoming too thin. He reinforces the part connected to the building and as much of the underside as he can from where he is to keep the fire from melting it down.

He turns back to his gathered neighbors. The adults gathered look unsure at best, if not down right afraid, but the young boy looks excited.

“It’ll be cold going down, but you should be perfectly safe,” Shouto promises. “Who’s first?”

Shouto helps the first woman up to the window. Once she is down safe, the woman with her baby goes, climbing up by herself first before Shouto hands the infant off to her. The young boy volunteers next before his grandmother can stop him, scrambling up to the window and then asking Shouto to hand the dog up to him. The older woman goes next, clutching the terrified cat tightly to her chest as she disappears down the slide.

Shouto waits until the older man safely reaches the bottom after her before he prepares to go down himself. Taking one last look back before he drops, he sees the smoke begin to curl around the edges of the apartment door.

 The fire chief stops Shouto first once he’s down, thanking him for his help evacuating the civilians and asking about the conditions inside. Shouto gives as much information as he can about the fire and where it started. He ignores the concerned expression the chief gives him as he explains how it began. He knows it seems like an attack, and a targeted attack at that, but he doesn’t want to focus on it just yet. Eventually, the chief figures he’s gotten as much as from Shouto as he’s going to for the moment and sends him off towards the paramedics.

Shouto dodges them for the moment, finding the neighbors he helped down first to make sure everyone actually made it down unharmed. Everyone seems okay, the baby somehow still blissfully asleep and the young boy excitedly asks Shouto if he can go down his ice slide again some other time. One of the first responders found a carrying case for the cat until they could get ahold of its actual owner. He recognizes a few of the other neighbors gathered around from the lower floors. A few have shock blankets on and one person is perched in an ambulance with a paramedic attached to an oxygen machine, but there don’t seem to be any major injuries.

Midoriya is arguing with a paramedic, insisting someone else is in more pressing need of care when Shouto finally approaches one of the ambulances.

“What’s that saying about doctors being the worst patients?” Shouto asks.

Midoriya jumps, startled by his arrival, though he quick recovers from his shock to glare at Shouto.

The paramedic throws his hands up. “Entropy, please try and talk some sense into him. This is the fourth time he’s refused care.” The paramedic turns back to Midoriya and waves a warning finger at him. “I’m running out of other patients to look at.” He warns before storming off.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Shouto asks once they’re alone. Midoriya mostly looks okay, his glasses are missing and he’s a little sooty and disheveled, but Shouto figures everyone probably looks about the same in that regard.

“Nothing,” Midoriya starts to say as someone nearby loudly clears their throat over him. Midoriya scowls. “I think I might have landed on my hand funny earlier, but it’s fine, probably just sore.”

Shouto frowns. “You should at least have someone look at it, just in case.”

Midoriya opens his mouth to argue but a ringing phone cuts him off. He fumbles with his phone for a moment, struggling to pull it out of a pocket with his opposite hand. He winces as he finally pulls it out.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s a video call.” Midoriya doesn’t elaborate anymore. He shifts around before he answers, holding the phone up at an angle that keeps his arm and the ambulance mostly out of the camera. He pastes on a bright smile. “Hi, Eri.”

“Oh Izuku, are you okay? I heard you were involved in a fire. Are you injured? What happened?” Dr. Aizawa asks in a rush, her worried face fills the screen. Red eyes move quickly, obviously taking note of Midoriya’s disheveled apperance.

“I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. We’re not sure exactly how it started yet,” he lies. “But no one was hurt.”

“Where are you? I’ll go-”

“No,” Midoriya cuts her off. “I’m fine and I’ll come by the hospital later so you can check me over yourself if you’re really that worried, but I’m fine. And I want to make sure someone is keeping an eye out for Kou.”

“You think this has to do with her?” Dr. Aizawa asks, surprised.

“I’m not sure yet, I would just feel better if I knew there was extra security around her.”

Dr. Aizawa nods. “Okay, Izuku. I’ll make sure someone has an eye on her at all times. I’ll call you later to check up on you.” She says. “And I’ll know if you don’t let the paramedics check on you so don’t even try it this time.” The call ends before Midoriya can refute her last statement.

“I’m supposed to be taking the next shift on the hospital,” Shouto realizes. “I still had another two hours before my shift began when you arrived, but I should let someone know.”

Midoriya offers Shouto his phone. Before Shouto can step away, the paramedic returns with his arms crossed.

“Ready to cooperate?”

Midoriya looks miserably over his shoulder at Shouto but lets the paramedic force him into a seat.

Shouto calls Momo on her private number.

“This is Creati.” Momo answers stiffly after a single ring.

“Momo, it’s Shouto. My phone is…I don’t have my phone right now. There was just a fire-”

“At your apartment building. I know I just got the alert. Are you okay? You were still home, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m fine. No one was injured, but they’re still putting out the fire and I’m pretty sure my apartment is gone. It started there.”

Momo takes a long time to reply. “Your quirk?” She finally asks, but she sounds like she already knows the answer.

“No. I think…It seems crazy, but…” Shouto hesitates. He lives on the third floor, but crazier things have probably happened to him. “I think someone threw something through my window to start it.”

Momo curses under her breath. “I was afraid of that. You haven’t heard from anyone else, yet, have you? There was another attack, across town. Not a fire, but a building came down. A few civilians were hurt, and…”

Shouto tries not to lose his patience with Momo as she hesitates.

Finally she sighs. “The latest report from the police just came over the radio. Mr. Smith was one of the only heroes in the area. He was severely injured while helping trapped civilians. Paramedics rushed him to the hospital a few minutes ago. No one’s sure of his status yet.”

“Fuck.” Midoriya was right. “This is about Kou. The girl from before you have to-”

“I know your schedule, Shouto.” Momo interrupts. “As soon as I got the alert I let them know you might have been targeted. Someone has already been assigned to your guard shift and they’ve added extra security to the hospital.”

Shouto feels himself relax for the first time since the fire began. If there’s one thing he can count on, it’s Momo to be on top of things. “Thank you.”

Momo replies with a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “Is there anything else I can do for you right now? Do you need anyone else at the scene?”

“No, everything seems pretty well in hand for now. But if you could let my mother and sister know, that would help. They’ll see it on the news eventually, but even if my phone survived the fire it will probably be a while before I can get it to contact them myself.”

“Of course, I’ll make sure they know you’re alright. Can I contact you on this number again?”

Shouto glances back at Midoriya. He’s, miraculously, still sitting in the ambulance doors letting the paramedic wrap his hand, but he also managed to call over one of the firefighters to discuss something about the attack. “Yeah, you can use this number again.”

“Let me know when you learn something more.”

“I will.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Shouto.” Momo says just before she ends the call.

Me too, Shouto thinks, looking around at all the people gathered in front of the apartment. He and Midoriya had managed to get everyone out, but if Shouto had been alone he might not have been quick enough. Hell, if he hadn’t been answering the door at just the right time, he might not have been able to save anyone at all. He would probably be right beside Mr. Smith in the hospital. I just wish it could be said for everyone.

Shouto returns to the ambulance, passing the cell back to Midoriya. Midoriya takes one look at his face and knows.

“You heard about Mr. Smith too?”

Shouto nods. “Creati already sent word to the hospital for extra security and for someone to cover my shift watching Kou.”

Midoriya cracks a small smile. Other than the one he wore to briefly pacify Dr. Aizawa, it’s the first smile Shouto thinks he’s seen from him all day. And bizarrely, it puts him at ease for a moment, lifting some of the weight of the attack.

“Remind me to send her a huge thank you gift when we finally get out of here,” Midoriya says, and even though Momo is just doing her job in her own efficient, overachiever way, he knows Midoriya is serious.

Midoriya moves over, offering the extra space for Shouto to sit down. Another paramedic almost immediately descends on them, finally checking Shouto over for shock, smoke inhalation, over-extended quirk usage, and other injuries. Other than the handful of cat scratches that they clean and bandage, he comes out with a clean bill of health. Midoriya is comparing their injuries, complaining that his “bruised wrist” didn’t need more bandaging than Shouto’s cuts, but while his tone is light, his eyes keep focusing on something in the distance, his attention obviously not on their conversation. Shouto can practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he thinks.

The fire chief eventually joins them as the fire dies down and more of the firefighters exit the building for the last time. “Thank you again, Entropy, for your help evacuating tenants before we arrived. And…Midoriya, was it?”

“Dr. Midoriya,” Shouto corrects when Midoriya simply nods. Midoriya elbows him in the side, but Shouto ignores the jab.

“Dr. Midoriya, thank you for your help as well. That was very brave of you. A number of the tenants I’ve spoken with were extremely grateful for your assistance.”

Midoriya shrugs a shoulder, as if he had truly done nothing of note. “I’m just glad I was in the right place to help, at the right time.”

“Do we know anything else about the fire yet? Or the building?” Shouto asks.

“The fire is mostly out, we just have a few more people inside checking for any hidden fires or areas that weren’t extinguished completely the first time. As for the building…it will take a little while longer to properly assess all the damage but the third floor where it started, and the second and fourth floors, took the most damage. At the very least it will be a day or two before it’s safe for the tenants to move between the floors to get their things.” The chief explains.

Shouto expected about as much, honestly he was prepared to hear worse, but it doesn’t make it easier. “Thank you for letting us know.”

The chief nods. “Of course.”

Shouto turns back to Midoriya as the chief walks away. “Can I borrow your phone one more time?”

Midoriya politely, but unnecessarily, turns away as Shouto crafts a text to Momo.

the tenants will b displaced for at least a few days. can we do smthing abt accommodations for them?

It only takes Momo a few seconds to reply.

Of course. Send me the number of people and their contact information and I’ll take care of everything.

A second text comes in almost immediately.

Will you need something too? You could always stay with me and Kyouka. Or I’m sure your mother would be happy to have you for a few days.

Shouto stares at the message for a moment. “Shit.” He hadn’t been thinking about himself. Obviously he couldn’t stay in his apartment. But he wouldn’t want to be housed anywhere near his neighbors, in case whoever attacked tried again. But that would put his friends, or family, in the same line of risk.

“What’s wrong?” Midoriya finally turns back, looking over Shouto’s shoulder. “Was there another attack?”

Shouto shakes his head. “No, sorry to worry you. Momo just reminded me I’ll need a place to stay for a while. I don’t want to risk a hotel or some public housing, if they try to attack again…”

Midoriya doesn’t need him to finish his thought before he nods in understanding. “And you don’t want to stay with your friends or family for the same reason. There’s too much of a risk they will try to target you again.”

Shouto groans, running a hand over his face. Maybe Midoriya was onto something with all his concerns about ‘privacy and self-preservation.’

“Stay with me.”

Shouto’s head shoots up. He thinks he had to have misheard, but the serious expression on Midoriya’s face suggests otherwise.

“What?”

“You can stay with me. No, you should stay with me.”

Shouto feels like he was just transported to a parallel universe. He was actually fairly confident his role as the only one to suggest ridiculous things in this newly-started relationship was already established.

“I-No. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m insisting.”

Shouto ignores him. “I can stay in the dorms at the agency.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes. “That’s an extremely short term solution, at best. And a huge risk. If these villains have kept close enough tabs on you to find your personal apartment and attack it, it would be child’s play to figure out you were staying in your office, with a publicly available address, and target it too.”

“You would still be at risk,” Shouto says, baffled as to how Midoriya somehow managed to miss that very important fact. “The same way Momo and Kyouka or my family would be, I can’t put you in that position.”

“Todoroki,” Midoriya says, deadly serious. “You are not a very social hero. It is common knowledge who you are close enough with to consider a friend. And your family has been in the spotlight for years. Staying with any of them is an obvious and dangerous choice. I’m a nobody. No one knows me, no one knows you know me. Also my house is…private, secluded. Even if someone does eventually figure out you’re there, it will take much longer than any of the other places. Enough time that we can come up with another plan.”

Midoriya reaches over and takes the cell out of his hands. “Now, unless you have a more convincing argument, I will text…” he looks at the phone for a long moment as he trails off. Shouto has no idea how he can casually insist on Shouto staying with him and in the same breath be visibly uncomfortable texting a different hero. “I will text…Creati and tell her you have a place to stay. You should go collect everyone else’s information for her.”

Shouto stares at Midoriya in disbelief while he pointedly ignores him and struggles to craft a text to Momo. He only finally moves when Midoriya all but shoves him off the ambulance step, claiming to be unable to type while he was being watched.

“I…can’t make sense of you,” Shouto finally admits. Midoriya has baffled him basically since the moment they met and he’s beginning to think he might never fully understand him.

Midoriya looks up from his phone with a curious expression, as if surprised by Shouto’s admission, before it transforms into a smile Shouto has never seen before, but that he wants to pull from him again and again.

“I like to think that’s just a part of my charm.”

[today-only-happens-once]

all the truth i could tell

Title: all the truth i could tell

Word Count: 4864

Summary: The court case is about keeping them together. But Roman’s testimony during the trial might just tear Logan apart. For Isa’s Sanders Bro AU. Familial/Brotherly LAMP angst/hurt/comfort.

Warnings: angst/hurt/comfort, detailed discussion of past abuse (physical/emotional/psychological), courtrooms, badgering witnesses, threats, threats about children, vomiting, second-guessing and self-doubt, emotional breakdowns, arguments, guilt (trauma related and also misplaced in so many ways), cursing, crying (some more than others but a lot across the board woops)

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write this fic for months and months. Perhaps one of the angstiest fics I’ve ever written. Got a little emotional while writing it, so I mostly just hope the emotions of the fic translated from my brain onto the page well enough because... I’m not sure, honestly. But I’m never sure about these things. Heh. My immeasurable thanks to @justisaisfine not only for letting me play in the Bros AU again, but for all the work and love and dedication they’ve put in to this universe’s creation. Edited by yours truly. All continuity errors, typos, and spelling/grammar mistakes are mine.

Inspired mostly by these posts from their AU.

Title is taken from “Praying” by Kesha; a cover of which appears in Isa’s playlist for this AU.

…

“Roman Sanders.”

The courtroom is packed, though Logan can’t say at this point that he finds that particularly surprising. It had been packed for the past several days, ever since it first started. And despite this fact, Logan is reasonably confident he hears the inhale of breath that his older brother sucks into his lungs. It is not entirely steady. Roman stands up from beside their lawyers at the defense table and casts a quick glance over his shoulder to his brothers and Thomas. Logan doesn’t know what his own expression is. He hopes it’s reassuring.

Anything to ease that flicker of fear that crosses his brother’s eyes.

Late afternoon sunlight streams in through the windows on the far wall and leaves squares of light on the wood floors. The benches are hard and uncomfortable to sit on, but Logan had gotten used to their discomfort days ago. Besides, a hard seat was hardly the most pressing issue on his mind. He casts a furtive, fleeting glance over at the back of his parents’ heads at the prosecution table.

Roman makes his way to the witness stand, lays his hand on the Bible, swears the oath they’d all heard half a dozen times by now. It’s all very business-as-usual. Logan wonders if Roman’s hand feels like lead to him. Logan’s had felt that way when he’d sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth.

“You may take your seat.”

Beside him, Patton shifts, fiddling with the sleeve of his gray suit jacket. Logan glances at him. Patton doesn’t take his eyes off their oldest brother.

Their lawyer—Walter Coleman—stands, buttons his suit jacket, and casually makes his way over. Logan liked him; he’d been the first person Thomas had called after Logan explained that he’d been gathering evidence just in case their parents came back. He was practiced, successful, and very thorough. Patton had described him as kind, but kindness mattered significantly less to Logan than whether or not Coleman could win.

“Roman, could you do the record a favor—just for clarity—and describe your relationship to the prosecution.”

A routine question, Logan tells himself. One they have practiced several times before. He tells himself this as if it will ease the tension that stretches his spine ramrod straight. It does not.

Roman clears his throat and leans into the mic. “I was their first child.”

“So you are the oldest of the Sanders children, yes?”

“Yes.”

“How old were you when you left home?”

“I was fifteen.”

“Could you describe the nature of the night you left? We have heard your brothers’ testimony regarding that incident, but I think it would benefit to have yours as well.” A brief pause. “Do you remember that night?”

“Vividly.”

“Then please tell us about it.”

Roman nods. Takes a breath. “I came home from school that day. It was late May, I think, and we could hear crashing and yelling coming from inside the house. I ran inside without even thinking about it, really—”

“Could you clarify whom you mean when you say ‘we’?”

Roman clears his throat. “Two of my brothers, sorry. Patton and Logan. Virgil wasn’t in school yet.” He pauses, glances at their lawyer, and continues after his silent, encouraging nod. “When I got in the house, it didn’t take long to realize the sound was coming from the kitchen. Mom was screaming. Shattered plates were all over the floor, and my—and Virgil was sort of hiding in the corner in the middle of the mess.”

Roman’s voice is… wrong, to Logan’s ears. Distant and detached and so unlike his oldest brother that it twists his stomach. Roman’s eyes are boring into their lawyer’s as if he’s afraid to look anywhere else right now.

Roman continues. “Mom was yelling something about Virgil, and she had a plate in her hand and she looked like she was about to throw it at him. So I yelled for her to stop, I asked what she was doing even though it seemed pretty clear, and I grabbed the plate from her hands because I was afraid she was going to throw it at him anyway. She left, after that.”

Their lawyer has his back to the courtroom, so Logan cannot see his expression. “She just walked away?”

Roman’s lips press into a thin line. “I think ‘shoved’ may be a bit more accurate, but yes.”

“And then what did you do?”

“I attempted to talk to Virgil.”

“Attempted?”

For the first time since he took the stand, Logan sees a flicker of something pass through Roman’s eyes. Logan remembers with startling clarity the look in his brother’s eyes when they watched Lilo and Stitch a lifetime ago—and then promptly never watched it again.

“I couldn’t—Virgil wouldn’t respond to me for a really long time.” Roman takes a deep breath. His gaze flickers from their lawyer and drifts out to the crowd. It settles on Thomas, who is sitting on the other side of Patton, for a brief moment before he returns it to their lawyer. “His eyes were kind of unfocused and… eventually, I just picked him up and took him upstairs to patch him up.”

“He was injured?”

Roman nods. “Yeah. He… There were cuts all over his hands. I think he might’ve been trying to pick up the pieces off the floor. His arms too. Maybe his head. I—Truthfully, I don’t remember the specifics of his injuries.”

Another line they’d practiced, Logan thinks. A truthful statement, but a careful one. Not I don’t remember. Not the details are hazy. Roman’s memories are vague around the particulars of Virgil’s injuries, but there is no doubt he was injured.

If he’s being honest, Logan is vaguely surprised at how well Roman seems to have remembered that night. It was a long time ago. And Logan doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the somehow both vacant and desperate look in his eyes as he’d bandaged their baby brother that night.

“Then I told my brothers that I thought leaving was the best decision.”

“Was staying with your parents going to leave you or your brothers in immediate, direct physical harm—”

“Objection.” The interruption comes from the prosecution table, a voice familiar now to Logan from his own experience on the witness stand. It still sent chills down his arms and turned his stomach. The prosecuting lawyer—Tyler Jacobs—is still sitting, but he’s looking directly at the judge. “That question is purely based on speculation. Witness is unable to know what would have happened had they not left.”

“Sustained.”

“I’ll rephrase,” Coleman says patiently. “Did you believe that staying in that house would mean danger of imminent harm?”

“Yes.” The question is immediate, clear, and divisive.

“Did you, Roman Sanders, forcibly remove any of your brothers from their home without their consent or agreement?”

“No. Their own testimonies speak to that.”

“And why didn’t you contact proper authorities rather than leave?”

“I was…” Roman’s voice seems to die for a moment in his throat. His gaze flickers over to the prosecution table for a brief moment and Logan swears some color drains from Roman’s face. “I was scared.”

“Scared. Of your parents?”  

“Yes,” Roman says, his voice returning to that unnatural evenness. “But also of being separated from my brothers. I was fifteen, and they were all I had.”

There’s a surprising pause. Someone a few rows behind them coughs. Coleman regards Roman silently. Roman stares back at him. Logan cannot tell if they’re communicating somehow, or why there’s such a long pause, but then eventually, Coleman speaks again.

“We’ve heard from your brothers about their understandings of the nature of your parents. But could you, in your own words, describe your relationship to them?”

Beside him, Logan feels Patton sit up a little more.

“It was…” Roman hesitates, and Logan doesn’t understand why. “It was uncomfortable.”

“In what way?”

Silence.

Logan feels himself tense. His older brother was a damn good actor but Logan had spent his entire life reading through Roman’s bravado. Alone on the witness stand, it seems unusually brittle to Logan, and he doesn’t understand the tinge of what he can only describe as panic in his big brother’s eyes.

“Roman,” Coleman prompts, in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Roman’s jaw works. He looks away. The panic gives way to something else. Shame?

“You promised this court to tell the whole truth,” Coleman says, still with that surprising gentleness. “All of it, Roman.”

Roman doesn’t look at anybody when he finally answers. “It was… threats, mostly.”

And Logan’s blood turns to ice.

“When none of my brothers were around,” Roman presses on, speaking quickly, like the faster he speaks the sooner he can get it over with and Logan’s head is spinning. “My father would ask if I’d rather he hurt my brothers instead, or said he’d burn Logan again if I didn’t shut up about it, or he’d be sure to tell Mom to hit Patton harder next time if I said anything about the bruises at school, or that he’d lock Virgil away from us for hours—days—if I didn’t—”

Roman’s voice chokes off. He swallows hard, squares his jaw, and looks up. “Sometimes it happened at night. Virgil and I shared a room, and sometimes he’d… he’d come in, knowing Virgil was fast asleep in the bed next to me, and we could both hear him breathing, and he’d ask if I’d imagined what it might be like to not hear that breathing, or to hear it… stop, and that I might find out if I didn’t…”

Patton seizes Logan’s hand and squeezes hard enough that maybe it should hurt but nothing seems to register to Logan right now. Things are spinning and nothing fits together and God damn it, how could he not have known?

Logan doesn’t know if his hand is shaking harder or Patton’s. When Patton clasps a second hand over Logan’s, Logan realizes it’s his own.

“Do you have any regrets about your decision to remove yourself and your brothers from that situation?”

“No,” Roman says honestly. Earnestly. Logan thinks he can barely hear him over the roaring in his ears.

Coleman nods once, then steps back and returns to the prosecution table. Logan watches as if he’s seeing it from miles away as Coleman removes his glasses and scrubs a hand across his eyes as Jacobs stands up.

“How old were you when you left the Sanders’ residence that night?” Logan instinctively tenses at the sound of his deceptively smooth voice.

“Fifteen,” Roman repeats.

“Do you think, Roman, that a fifteen-year-old child is the best judge of what is and isn’t best for other children?”

“I was afraid for mine and my brothers’ safety.”

“But you made that decision for your brothers rather than allowing them to reach their own conclusions, did you not?”

A crease appears between Roman’s brows. “No. Patton said he wanted to leave, too. And I wouldn’t have made Logan come if he didn’t want to.”

“Yes, yes.” Jacobs waves a dismissive hand. “But didn’t you say that Virgil wasn’t responding to you when you tried to talk to him?”

If Logan hadn’t been looking for it, he would have missed the way Roman’s eyes widened imperceptibly. “I… Yes, but—”

“So how could you have known what Virgil wanted? He was five at the time, yes?”

“Yes—”

“So he was capable, physically, of speaking in full sentences. Yet did Virgil, at any point, indicate clearly and without equivocation, that he wanted to be removed from the Sanders household?”

“He had just been—”

“Please answer the question asked, Roman.”

Logan feels Patton’s grip tighten around his own. Logan squeezes back. He wants to look at his younger brother, to see if he is okay, but Logan can’t take his eyes off his oldest brother. Something is squeezing Logan’s chest like a metal band. Sharp and painful and the air feels too thick for it.

“No,” Roman says. “He didn’t. But he wasn’t safe, and I was doing what I thought was right.”

“What you thought was right,” Jacobs repeats with a skeptical glance to the jury. There’s a weighted pause. “Tell me something, Roman, had you ever had a job before you left?”

“No.”

I can’t believe he never told me about dad.

“Had you saved up the money your parents freely gave you?”

Through the weird haze of Logan’s thoughts, he thinks he sees Roman’s jaw tighten. “No.”

“Had you had any prior work experience?”

“No, but I—”

“Legal guardianship experience?”

“No, but—”

“Did you have a specific place in mind when you left?”

“We found—”

“A place you owned that could provide certainty of safety and security from inclement weather?”

“No—”

“And yet you think it was the right decision,” Jacobs cuts in, doing nothing to hide his incredulity. “The right decision for you, a fifteen-year-old child, to remove your younger brothers from their home with no plan, no experience, no job, no nothing. You really believe that was the right thing to do?”

“I—I was—”

“Objection!” Coleman roars over Roman’s stuttered, desperate response. “Badgering the witness!”

The gavel bangs. Logan, Patton, and Roman on the stand all jump in unison. There’s an immediate, ricocheting silence in the courtroom. “Sustained,” the judge says in a tense voice. “Jacobs, you will proceed carefully or not at all.”

“Apologies,” Jacobs says as if its more reflexive habit than legitimate contrition. “Roman, have you ever made a mistake?”

Why didn’t Roman talk to me about any of it? Why didn’t—

Roman hesitates. “Yes.”

“And did you learn from that mistake? Were you capable of change?”

Another beat. “Yes.”

“Do you think your parents are capable of similar change?”

Dad used us to threaten him, and he never—

Roman has a desperate, pained look in his eyes and Logan realizes—so suddenly it jars him—that he’s looking at him and Patton for the first time. “I…”

“You are under oath, Roman,” Jacobs says with a bit of an edge. Or perhaps Logan is imagining it. “You must state your honest opinion.”

“No,” Roman says eventually tearing his gaze away from his brothers. He says the word like it devastates him. “No, I don’t.”

Jacobs eyes narrow. He purses his lips. “Perhaps you have not grown up quite as much as you believe you have,” he says. Coleman jumps to his feet again but Jacobs waves him off. “No further questions.”

Roman scrubs a hand down his face and Logan realizes then that he can see how badly Roman is shaking all of a sudden.

Why didn’t Roman tell me? There’s something hard settled in the core of Logan’s chest that is painful to breathe past.

The gavel bangs. Logan jumps again. “Let’s take a brief recess.”

Patton has jumped to his feet and is out of the courtroom almost before the judge has finished speaking.

…

Logan finds his younger brother forty-eight seconds later in the restroom. He hears the retching before he sees him, kneeling beside a toilet with the stall door still open. Something unnamed clenches impossibly tighter in Logan’s chest.

“Oh, Pat,” he says, as his younger brother flushes and sits back, wiping his mouth. His eyes are dry, and for some reason he can’t explain, that surprises Logan. He grabs one of the paper towels and quickly rinses it in the sink before crossing to his brother and kneeling in front of him.

Patton leans his head back against the tiled wall. “He…” Patton lets the statement go unfinished, his gaze distancing.

“I know,” Logan says, softly, as he wipes away the residue lingering on Patton’s lips.

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Know? Did you know what…what he…”

Logan’s throat is closing. He coughs in a futile attempt to clear it. He still feels a little bit like the ground beneath his feet has shifted. “No,” he manages. “I didn’t.”

And the admittance, out loud, makes something burn harshly in Logan’s chest. Something like anger. Something like grief. Something like… Logan grits his teeth. He had never been good at identifying emotions. But it hurts.

Patton swallows hard. The steel band around Logan’s chest tightens, and Logan moves to sit beside him. He wraps an arm around his shoulder and rocks them side to side. In the back of his mind, Logan is a bit surprised that nobody else had come into the bathroom yet. He figures it doesn’t really matter much.

Patton doesn’t say anything else, although Logan has the odd feeling that he wants to. Patton keeps taking in a breath as if he’s about to say something, then decides against it. Logan doesn’t ask. He hopes Patton knows that he can talk if he wants to, but that Logan won’t press him if he doesn’t.

Minutes pass. He continues to rock Patton side to side a little as his own thoughts wonder, replaying—in a way that never eases the gutted feeling in Logan’s stomach—Roman’s testimony about their father. Logan had always thought Roman was the favored son; Roman was the one that was left untouched, forced instead to use their parents’ unwillingness to hurt him to protect his brothers. Logan had known—had seen—the psychological scars it’d left on his brother.

But that….

Dad used us to threaten him. Logan leans his own head back against the wall and stares hopelessly at the ceiling. Why the fuck didn’t Roman say anything about it? They were supposed to talk about stuff like that. Maybe not Virgil—sure, Logan could rationalize that. Virgil was the baby of the family, and even though he wasn’t much of a baby anymore, Logan certainly understood if Roman was afraid of scarring Virgil more than he’d already been by their parents.

But Logan… He should have felt like he could talk to Logan about it. The world in Logan’s vision blurs further.

How did Logan miss it?

Beside him, Patton sniffles and pulls out of his brother’s arms a little. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” Logan replies, his voice thick.

“I’m kind of worried about Roman. Could… could you go check on him for me?”

Logan’s brow furrows. “You don’t want to check yourself?”

Patton shakes his head quickly, grabbing some toilet paper and blowing his nose before tossing it in the toilet. “I don’t—I don’t think, er… I don’t know if Roman wants to see me….. like this,” Patton offers, but Logan doesn’t miss that the words like this sound like they’re mostly added as an afterthought.

“Patton,” Logan tries, squeezing his arm, but Patton shakes his head.

“Just… Please?”

Logan hesitates, then caves. He gives one more gentle squeeze to Patton’s arm before he stands. “Okay.”

It’s not until he’s opened the bathroom door—a part of him wanting to ask Patton why he seems to think Roman wouldn’t want to see him—when he suddenly understands. With it comes an answer to the question that had been repeating in Logan’s mind with dizzying urgency.

Why didn’t Roman tell me?

Perhaps it was because he blamed them.

…

As it turned out, nobody had been in the bathroom because the couple that had been their neighbors growing up—Martha and Alice—were essentially standing guard at the door. Logan stumbles, startled by the two women flanking the men’s restroom door.

“Easy, dear,” Martha says, catching Logan’s elbow to help steady him. “Is your brother still in there?”

Logan tries to swallow past the growing lump in his throat. “Yes. I… If you could continue to ensure his privacy, I plan to be back very soon.”

He didn’t like the idea of leaving Patton all by himself right now. At least not for long.

Alice nods. “Of course. If you’re looking for Roman, I believe he and that nice movie star he’s always with went in the conference room around the corner. We’ve been keeping a close eye, and I don’t think anyone’s gone back there to interrupt them.”

Logan nods his understanding, surprised at the surge of unnamed emotions that rush through him at the otherwise simple act of kindness. “Thank you,” he says, unsure of how to express to these two women just how much he means them.

Martha winks at him. “Anything for you boys.”

Logan quickly turns around the corner to the first door on the right. Through the long window to the left of the door, Logan sees Roman and Thomas, and something makes him freeze.

Through the door, muffled, Logan can only make out part of the conversation.

“…down, Roman.”

“I’m fine, okay? I’m just...”

“Are you sure?” Thomas sounds like he’s trying to be gentle. Through the glass, Logan can see the vaguely lost and pleading look on the actor’s face. Roman’s got his back to the window, facing Thomas. “Because you don’t… seem…”

“Damn it, Thomas, just—I… Maybe he’s right, y’know? Maybe I… Maybe he has a point.”

“Who? Jacobs?” Roman’s silence is answer enough. “Roman, you can’t think like that.”

“I was fifteen, Thomas. Maybe I… Fucking shit, I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Roman—”

Logan opens the door. The conversation cuts out abruptly, and Logan freezes suddenly as Roman whirls around to face him. Roman’s eyes are red and puffy and startled. He looks suddenly so young and vulnerable and Logan can’t remember the last time he saw Roman like that.

“I—Apologies,” he forces out. “Patton wanted to know where you were and, I… Sorry.”

Because the only thing echoing is his head is that he is, at least in part, responsible for the haunted, broken look in Roman’s eyes and the frantic way he can see Roman trying to piece back together the bravado he so often wore.

“Logan, wait—”

But Logan turns and rushes back towards the bathroom so quickly he isn’t even sure which one of them said his name. He tells Patton that Roman is with Thomas. He’s grateful when Patton seems to relax at that and doesn’t press Logan for other details.

…

When they all go home later that night, Thomas drives Roman and Patton drives Logan. Initially, Logan had refused the offer. But Patton explained that he thought it would help to have something else to focus on—to feel like he was doing something, that it would help alleviate the feeling that he’d been a bystander all day long. And right now, Logan is pretty sure that Logan was incapable of denying his younger brother much of anything.

But Logan can’t get the look on his brother’s face in the conference room scrubbed from his mind. He thinks about texting him.

He also can’t stop thinking about how Roman probably doesn’t want to see or speak to him. Your fault, a voice hisses in the back of his mind. His stomach rolls with guilt. His chest burns with anger.

Logan shifts in his seat. He decides to text Thomas instead.

How is he?

He doesn’t expect an answer for a while. Thomas is driving after all.

Neither Logan nor Patton says anything the entire car ride. It is the longest car ride of Logan’s life.

…

Logan is through the front door before Patton is. Roman and Thomas are already sitting on the couch—Logan and Patton had needed to stop for gas—with their suit jackets discarded on the armchair. Roman has untied his tie, letting it hang loose around his neck. One hand hangs between his knees, covered by one of Thomas’s, and the other is in his hair. He his head snaps up when Logan steps through the door.

Roman opens his mouth like he wants to say something. Logan doesn’t have a fucking clue to say to his big brother. His chest feels like it’s caving and he doesn’t know why except that it presses on the anger that is simmering in his ribcage.

Patton—as he barrels in through the door a moment after Logan—is the one who breaks the silence. “Roman!” Patton’s voice cracks with the name and Roman is on his feet in less than a second. Patton barrels straight into his chest.

“Pat, hey,” Roman says, in that painfully familiar, soft and soothing voice. He wraps his arms around his brother. “Hey, sssh. I’m okay.”

“You really expect me to believe that? You—” Patton’s voice chokes and it’s half-muffled from Roman’s chest but Patton is clinging to him like Roman is the only thing that can keep him afloat. Like he’s afraid to let go. “Roman, you’re my brother and you… you just…”

Logan watches Roman swallow hard. “Yeah,” Roman whispers. He turns a pained gaze on to Logan, still standing by the door, who matches it before his stomach rolls again with a leaden weight. Logan looks away.

“I… How—” The question chokes off with a broken sob and it’s like the dam has finally crashed open. Patton shakes with the force of his sobs against his big brother’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispers, and he tightens around Patton like he can feel the way his brother is falling apart and he’s trying desperately to keep him together. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Patton’s breath is hiccupping. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Roman releases a breath. He smooths a hand against Patton’s mess of curls. “Yeah. Of course, Patton.”

“You-you shouldn’t have had to…. You…”

“Hey, hey, hey. Sssh. It’s okay. I’m sorry if I scared you. I’m sorry.”

Something is breaking inside of Logan—maybe a dam of his own—and the words burst from his mouth before he can think to stop them. “Damn right you’re sorry.”

Roman and Thomas’s gazes both snap towards Logan. Logan’s hands ball into fists to get them to stop shaking. He clenches his jaw.

“Logan,” Roman tries, but Logan can feel his heartbeat against his ribs and shakes his head.

“You never told me.”

“I…”

“We had a deal.” And damn it, his vision is blurring a little around the edges but Logan ignores it. “We talk to each other. We tell each other things. We don’t… Fuck, Roman, we don’t hide things like that from each other.”

Roman looks like he’s floundering a bit, something fracturing in his irises. Like splinters of ceramic. “I didn’t see a reason to bring it up with you.”

“Bullshit,” Logan grits out, storming away from the door and closer to Roman. “We’re there for each other, Roman. That was the deal, from the very beginning. I was true to my word, even when I didn’t want to be. Even when it was hard to be. Because I thought… I thought you trusted me too.”

“I do—”

“So imagine my surprise,” Logan presses on, even if the heat in his eyes is a bit more pronounced now, “when I find out today that you were threatened by dad. Using us. Using me. Imagine my surprise when I learned it’s my fault that my big brother—”

“Whoa,” Roman jumps in suddenly and defensively. His brows are knit together. “That’s not true.”

Logan scoffs and when he blinks, his blurry vision abruptly clears and he can feel the tears tracing down his cheeks. He scrubs frustratedly at them. “Yes, it is, Roman. Dad used us against you and you never said shit about it. I mean, how am I—” His throat closes and Logan gestures helplessly at Roman, who looks stricken. “You used to patch me up. All those times, all those burns, it was always you that took care of… And not once did I even think that…”

Logan swallows hard and shakes his head. “So yeah,” he manages with a wobbling voice that he wishes would be steady. “Yeah, it’s my fault, Roman. I just wish you would have told me anyway.”

Logan suddenly can’t manage the weight of the silent gazes bearing down on his shoulders—that might be more weight than he can manage—and he turns to head towards his room.

“Logan, please,” Roman says desperately as Logan feels him grab his elbow to stop him. In one fluid motion, Roman pulls him closer and hugs him. Logan is suddenly engulfed in the smell of his older brother—linen and cinnamon and salt—and he feels his resolve buckling.

Logan feels Roman press his face into his hair, one hand cupping the back of his head.

“I’m telling you three times,” Roman says in a choked whisper. “It’s not your fault.”

And just like that, Logan is thirteen again and knowing that no matter what may come next, his brothers are the only place he feels safe. Roman had spent his entire life trying to make sure his younger brothers felt safe. Standing here in the living room of their house, Logan tries to make sure Roman feels that way too.

Logan doesn’t let go of his big brother for a very long time. And if Roman is holding onto him just as tightly, well. That’s what brothers were for, isn’t it?

...

Tags:

@helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark​, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, @theburntesttoast, @monroig​, @remussvscohangout

[221bshrlocked]

IV. Fixing

Pretend You Don’t See Her! Masterlist

Pairing: Mob!Sebastian x Reader

Words: 2471

Warnings: Some swearing. Slow burn.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged in the masterlist post. And please comment, like and reblog and tell me how I’m doing. I am in constant need of assurance. This is not beta’d. I’ll reblog with the tags later.

Previous Part | Next Part

Sebastian made sure every one of his men knew what to say to Chris when he came in. It was something along the lines of  “Sebastian will beat the living shit out of you if he got a glimpse of your stupid fucking blonde hair.” He was past angry. He was furious, livid, fucking seething. This was no coincidence and he couldn’t believe it even if it was. But there was no way she just happened to be interviewed and hired here. And he knew Chris had something to do with this because he never told Tony once to hire someone without first seeing him. And ultimately, as much as he hated it, he wasn’t the type of person to get second chances. Life was never this nice to him.

Sebastian spent the entire night in his office, pacing back and forth until his phone rang, signaling him to go to the other bar for a quick deal with one of his partners. He had left by himself yet again, knowing he would most likely punch someone in the teeth if they breathed the wrong way. By the time he was done, he was on his way back home when he realized he forgot his keys in his office. Swearing into the early hours of the day, he walked back to his office, his head hanging low the entire time. He didn’t pay attention to anything or anyone, his mind trying to come up with something to say to you when he saw you next. 

He waved at his men when they tried to say something to him, heading to his office so he could leave before his tongue got him into trouble again. Fishing his keys out of his desk drawer, he was about to exit the office when he ran into someone, the hot liquid running down his chest snapping him out of his haze. He was about to yell when he saw you standing in front of him, eyes widening in horror at what had just transpired and before he could say anything, you were kneeling down and making sure he didn’t step on any of the broken pieces.

“I- oh god, I am so sorry sir, please. I...I didn’t think you’d be coming out of your office so soon and- and I was told to bring you your usual coffee and shit, I’m so sorry sir please, I- I’ll clean this up right away just d-” You were close to crying, not knowing how this could possibly happen on your first day. You looked up and saw his expression fall and you prepared yourself for the onslaught of insults. Quickly grabbing your towel, you were about to ask him if his chest was burned when his voice came out like a growl. 

“Stand up.” He ordered, his eyes piercing your own and finding it insulting that you were yet to listen to him. “Stand. Up.” Sebastian bellowed and you shivered at the outburst, continuing to stare up at him. You noticed his jaws tense, his eyes taking you in before he shook his head and left. 

“Fucking hell,” he muttered right before he turned the corner, leaving you a sad and confused mess. You were still cleaning up the floor when Tony walked by, silently questioning what happened. You didn’t know what to say. Technically it wasn’t your fault but you couldn’t say it was his fault either. So you just stared at him and promised him it will never happen again and that he could take the cost of the mug out of your paycheck. Tony smiled at you and shook his head, telling you it was probably just the first day jitters and that you should watch yourself the next time so you didn’t get hurt. 

As much as you tried not to think about that little mishap of an encounter with him, you couldn’t stop playing the event over and over again, cringing and swearing at yourself because for some odd reason, you still thought he was kind and slightly misunderstood and maybe he was just having a bad day. You hadn’t seen him for a couple of hours and when he finally came back, you were too busy bringing out drinks and cleaning the tables. When the orders died out just a bit, you stood at the back of the lounge next to one of the bouncers, Mark, chatting him up and asking him about the singer on the stage. He’d said something funny about Tony attempting to sing one night and almost getting kicked by Scarlett, the woman on the stage. But when your eyes turned to the room again, you saw Sebastian sitting in one of the corners, his eyes trapping you for a moment before you decided you should get back to work. Quickly thanking Mark for the break, you made your way back to the middle of the room, pretending you weren’t aware of the set of eyes following your every movement.

“Come on Y/N, you need to have eyes on the back of your head.” Tony brushed past you and when you were about to ask him what he meant, he pointed towards the table Sebastian was sitting on. You apologized and set the rest of the drinks down quickly, making your way over to the corner table. 

“G-good evening sir. What would you like to have?” You smiled at the two men standing behind him, your heart rate slowly decreasing when one nodded at you while the other returned your smile. 

You. Sebastian almost replied. When he saw just how nervous you were around him, he looked away and grabbed a few bills, sliding them towards you before ordering a cup of coffee. You took the money and placed it in your pocket before looking towards the other men.

“Would you like to drink anything?” You asked them and almost laughed at the obvious surprise etched on their faces. When neither of them responded, Sebastian crossed his legs and told them they were free to drink anything non-alcoholic. They both ordered sodas and were about to pay when Sebastian stopped them.

“It’s more than enough.” He pointed at your pocket and you nodded, walking away to get them some drinks. You went to Tony and asked him what it was you were supposed to do with the rest of the money to which Tony laughed and told you that was your tip. You gawked at the change left before grabbing the drinks and walking back. After you set them down, you reached into your pockets and set the rest of his money on the table.

“What’s this?”

“It’s your change sir.” You responded instantly, watching his expression go from quizzical to slightly entertained.

“I didn’t ask for it back.” He crossed his arms, smiling up at you as he took a sip from his coffee.

“And I refuse to take it on my first day.” The hint of anger in your tone made one of the men smile while the other’s eyes widened because did you just talk back to your employer? You didn’t care, however, because he may be your boss but you weren’t a charity case. Not giving him a chance to respond, you stomped away from the table, not looking at that corner of the lounge until the end of your shift. 

As you were finishing up, you felt someone standing near you. Turning around, you were surprised to see him waiting patiently until you acknowledged him. 

“I’m sorry sir, I’m not one to take another girl’s table.” You said, referring to one of the other waitresses who served his table after you left. You were pretty sure he wasn’t here to order anything but you didn’t feel like talking to him, afraid you’d say something that might get you fired, or worse.  You could tell he was about to respond but he held back, nodding before heading towards Tony.

For a second, you thought they were looking at you as they were discussing something. It was probably just your mind playing tricks on you though. 

You went to the backroom to change and grab your stuff to head home, hoping you wouldn’t run into him on your way out. But as soon as you exited the room, you saw Sebastian leaning against the wall, one hand ringing the rings on the other as soon as you stepped out and shut the door behind you.

“I- I wanted to...tell you that I’m- fuck, sorry I’m not g-good at this. Shit, I wanted to get this right and I don’t even know your name.” You were completely taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Hours ago he was swearing and yelling at you but now he was barely getting out a proper sentence. He combed back his hair and you almost sighed at the oddly attractive nervous tick.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N.” You never looked away from him and smiled shyly to try and put him at ease. 

“Y/N.” The barely audible whisper of your name sent butterflies into your stomach and you unintentionally leaned forward into him. You were surprised when he mirrored your actions and leaned forward, slowly taking your hand in his before bringing it up to his lips. Maintaining eye contact with you, he kissed your knuckles and smiled up at you.

“Well Y/N, I wanted to apologize for the way I spoke last night, and for how I acted in the morning. My anger was...misplaced. And you didn’t deserve to be treated this way.” Sebastian spoke softly, and refused to let go of your hand even when he saw how slightly flushed you were from the intimate touch.

“It- it’s okay sir. I’m just a waitress. Nothing important.” You kept on staring at the way he was holding your hand, eyebrows furrowing when he tightened his grip and pulled you towards him. 

“Not to me,” was all he said before he reluctantly let go of you, his eyes shamelessly shifting to your parted lips before returning to your surprised orbs. “I wanted to tell you that I told Tony it was my fault in the morning, not yours.”

“Oh sir you didn’t have to-”

“Yes I did. And you’ll be happy to know that he said nothing but nice things about your first day. And I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with the tip. Ask any girl here and they’ll tell you I do that with all of’em. Not just you.” He only got a nod out of you, but it was all he needed to know you weren’t offended anymore. 

“And please, call me Sebastian.” 

“Sir I don’t think I’ll be able to do that.” You turned away from him, looking at the floor and hoping he wouldn’t notice just how much he was affecting you. But then he stepped closer to you and raised your chin so he could look at you.

“Please.” 

You weren’t sure what it was that made you lose all control of your brain. All you knew was that he was looking at you like you were the only thing important to him and that he was close to begging you.

“Anything for you.” You whispered back, flushing under his gaze when he smiled at you and let go of your chin. “You’re going to regret saying that sweetheart.” 

That seemed to snap you out of your haze, stepping away from his distracting scent and his warm touch to have some semblance of control on your body.

“I- I didn’t mean it t-that way-”

“Taking it back already?” Sebastian snuck his hands into his pocket, raising his eyebrows at your obvious flustered reactions.

“I’ll call you that only when we’re alone.” You were proud you didn’t stutter through that sentence but then he chuckled and leaned against the wall again.

“Oh you wanna be alone with me love?” Sebastian knew he was making it worse but he couldn’t get enough of your obvious embarrassment. When he saw you turning around to walk towards the exit, he ran after you and grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you got around the corner. 

“I’m sorry. I’m only kidding sweetheart.” He tried to get you to smile at him again but when he realized he may have pushed you a little more than he intended, he let go and stepped away.

“Good night Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waited, hoping that you would respond to him so he could leave instead of staying and teasing you even more.

“Good night Sebastian,” you said before quickly making your way past the exit, leaving a very content Sebastian in the hallway. He walked back to his office and threw himself on his chair, smiling like a lovesick puppy until he realized he was going to have to, not only confront Chris, but also thank him. As much as he hated him right now, he couldn’t not tell him that his advice worked. He still didn’t know how he didn’t punch his friend in the face when he saw him on his way out in the morning. Chris had miraculously managed to talk him down, telling him he should just go back and apologize for the way he was treating you. And Sebastian was going to do that but then Chris told him to go home and change so he could look semi-presentable when he did finally grow a set and apologized to you. 

It was only later when it finally clicked and Sebastian knew that, at some point, he needed to ask Chris how he knew he misspoke towards you. He wasn’t in the lounge the previous night or that morning so someone must have blabbed to him, which only meant that Chris made sure everyone knew to text him should anything arise between the two of you.

But Chris’ advice seemed to work apparently. He thought he’d need to buy you flowers or something else but when he spoke with Tony once he came back, Tony told him that he was pretty sure you weren’t the type to need any of that. All she wants is to be respected is what he said, right after calling Sebastian a dick, which he wasn’t wrong about.

All Sebastian needed to do now was to control his thoughts, and frankly his reactions and little outbursts, around you, which from the way you said his name, wasn’t going to be an easy task. But he was a patient man. He could wait, he could protect you from himself for a little while longer. The only problem was, would he be able to keep pretending now that he knew he affected you almost as much as you affected him?

[a-crimson-lion]

A Look At Bakudeku’s Development (Based On That One Instagram Post): A Photo-Narrative Analysis

Word Count: 4,287 (Yikes…)

[This got long. Like, REALLY long. Don't expect too many colors. There's a lot to get through...]

For those out of the loop, I recently came across this Instagram post during unhealthy hours in the morning. The purpose of this post, I’d assume, was to debunk any negativity aimed at the Bakudeku dynamic/ship, claiming it was indeed not abusive and that the antis in question are ignoring canon in favor of playing Bakugo’s suicide instigation on repeat. Before addressing the post in question, I would like to state two things:

I am not stuck on Chapter/Episode 1 in the series. I have been caught up proper with every story arc up to the JT Training Arc and am roughly familiar with everything past that point. I don’t just take Katsuki’s now essentially forgotten suicide instigation into account; I’m taking every part of his actions well beyond that moment and how they reflect on him, internally justified or otherwise.

While I’m among the people who believe that Bakudeku as of the latest incarnation of the manga (up to Ch. 280) is indeed abusive, I am open to discussions on why it is not. In any case, however, I cannot ignore the fact that the dynamic/ship is incredibly problematic besides the skeletons in both Izuku and Katsuki’s closets.

So, in order to address this issue to the best of my half-awake brain’s abilities, I will review the screenshots within said post and break down how they factor into the Bakudeku dynamic and the overall development. Be aware that there are some manga and movie spoilers, and this is just MY OPINION. I could be wrong, and I’m okay with that. If you wanna talk without patronizing me, the comments are open. I also apologize in advance if I myself come of as patronizing. All the screenshots I’ll be discussing can be found in the video link above (or here).

Well then, no point in beating around the bush...

1) Izuku Taking Katsuki Out Of The Final Exam Gate (Anime Screenshot)

The first piece of “evidence” used to show the merit of Bakudeku comes from the Final Exam arc, shortly after Katsuki succumbs to All Might’s assault, only for Izuku to come in and deck the #1 Hero in order to grab Katsuki and carry him to safety, allowing them both to pass.

However, this photo marks a recurring trend throughout some of the other photos: they speak more about IZUKU as a character than Izuku AND Katsuki.

Izuku getting to save Katsuki is a major development… for Izuku. One that we’ve seen before. Think about it. The first time Izuku saves Katsuki towards the beginning of the exam, he has to punch Katsuki in the face because he was considering throwing the match just for working with Izuku. And after he’s been saved, Katsuki blows up (figuratively and literally) before aggressively kabedoning him. In this scene though? Katsuki got knocked the f*** out, so he really has no room to protest if Izuku comes in to save him a second time.

Plus, this isn’t really anything NEW with Izuku. We know that he’s aware in an abstract sense that what Katsuki did to him was “wrong,” but he doesn’t hold a grudge or any animosity to him towards that. He’s one of Katsuki’s biggest defenders and supporters, assuming Katsuki allows it. So really, him saving Katsuki isn’t really surprising or a major step forward, ‘cause he was always willing to do it from the get go. And again, Katsuki isn’t conscious during his second rescue, so we don’t really know if he would have let Izuku save him again or if he would have protested.

There’s nothing new here, and nothing balanced to the overall dynamic. Just Izuku being Izuku.

2) All Might Acknowledges The New Bakudeku Rivalry (Anime Screenshot)

Deku vs Kacchan 2 was a big moment for the Bakudeku dynamic. I’m not saying it’s a positive moment, nor am I saying it was necessary, but it was big. And in the aftermath of that fight, where Izuku and Katsuki are having a back and forth, All Might thinks to himself that the two have become true rivals now, or something along those lines. And it’s nice that he’s willing to spell this out for the audience and all, but uh…

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: show, don’t tell.

All Might is essentially telling us that Izuku and Katsuki are rivals now. What does the story have to show for it? A brief conversation during their house arrest, followed by a massive stall due to the Shie Hassaikai Arc and Cultural Festival Arc (albeit with one more instance we’ll cover later), and then what essentially equates to Katsuki yelling at Izuku a lot during the Joint Training Arc.

...that’s ...not much.

And yeah, you could expect me to be a good bean to the author and wait until the later arcs, but even then, the execution… just falls kinda flat, at least for me. Going back to that particular moment with All Might’s thought process, it kind of reminds me of Eraserhead essentially acting as a mouthpiece for the Ochako vs Katsuki fight during the Sports Festival, but that’s a can of worms I won’t be indulging today.

What I’m getting at is this: All Might letting the audience know that Bakudeku have reached rival status is great! Now if only the series could deliver more on that...

3) Standing With Two One For Alls (Heroes Rising)

Okay, seriously, if you haven’t seen Heroes Rising yet, I implore you, GO. WATCH IT. It is an incredible film and I would recommend it with warm words. And I’ll admit, it gives us a better incarnation of Bakudeku compared to the rest of the series.

Yes, I said “better,” not “great.”

Look, I’m all for Izuku and Katsuki working past their differences and the clusterf*** that was their childhood, and maybe Horikoshi not being as integrally involved with the film’s writing as people think he is has something to do with it, but uh… you do not say “put myself as low as to working with Deku” or something like that and expect to be casually tossed aside, at least if you’re me. And while I’m glad there was some genuine emotional tension as Izuku gave Katsuki OFA, some part about it feels… off. Like, nothing was really truly resolved. Katsuki wasn’t given OFA as a sign of forgiveness, as an acknowledgement. Katsuki was given OFA because there was an AFO level villain about to wreck the place and kill some peeps and oh look, the narrative made it so that Katsuki was the only convenient holder around! It kinda stings when you look at it that way.

Not that it matters, because a big thing most people forget is that at the end of this movie, THE ENTIRE THING IS ESSENTIALLY SWIPED ACROSS THE DESK AND ON THE FLOOR. Even if it was going to have some level of effort towards the development of the dynamic, that effort is essentially GONE because Katsuki doesn’t remember SQUAT, and what happens to OFA after the fight is NEVER DISCUSSED. It’s just a hard reset, BOOM, back to normal. *Sigh*

Really, the whole double OFA thing was for convenience, less so for any emotional leveling up that could have been done. And even then, Izuku is still somehow the one putting more emotional input into the entire thing than Katsuki.

4) “I Thought You Were Gonna Get Ahead Of Me!” (Anime Screenshot)

Katsuki’s methods of motivation are… admittedly not for everyone. They seem to work fine for Izuku, as seen sometime after the Cultural Festival Arc, but again, that’s just Izuku. We know how he takes Katsuki’s words and turns it into motivation, but why does Katsuki bother at all?

Well, maybe this comes with desperately trying to find reasons to like a character but progressively despising him and his narrative placement more and more as time progresses, but here’s my angle on it: Katsuki just doesn’t want Izuku dragging his weight for nothing.

Keep in mind, we’re talking about the same Katsuki who held a grudge against Shoto for holding back during the Sports Festival. The same Katsuki who wanted the #1 Hero to go all out and would continuously press to fight him. The same Katsuki who wanted to fight a deadly villain even after being instructed to get back to camp for his own safety. The same Katsuki who challenged Izuku to a fight to finally determine where the gap was, and who was frustrated when he won because the power Izuku possessed was All Might’s, so clearly he shouldn’t have lost.

In short, Katsuki doesn’t like it when people don’t give it their all. And I believe it’s been stated once or twice that once Izuku makes One For All his own, there’s a good chance they’re gonna fight again. So it’s in Katsuki’s best interest to make sure Izuku isn’t half-assing anything, because he wants to prove he can beat Izuku at his best, thus proving that KATSUKI is the best.

So it’s less so for Izuku’s benefit as it is for Katsuki’s own.

5) One Giant Leap (Heroes Rising)

Arguably one of the best moments of the entire Heroes Rising film amongst the fandom is the big handhold scene between Katsuki and Izuku as they make a last gambit effort to take down Nine with two One for Alls. Admittedly this is one of the best if not the best moment throughout the entire progression of the Bakudeku dynamic thus far. I’ll give it that much.

...which makes it all the more frustrating because again: MIND. WIPE. The audience knows it happened, but in canon we never know if Izuku discusses it with Katsuki or if anyone else was aware of the moment in greater specificity. IT ESSENTIALLY NEVER HAPPENED, and I’m starting to legitimately wonder whether or not it was for the best...

6) Datte Atashi No Hero (Anime Screenshot)

First off: how? Second off: huh?

Believe me, the second ending of Season 3 is an absolute bop, don’t get me wrong, but uh… again, it provides NOTHING balanced for Bakudeku, once again relying on Izuku’s perspective on the entire matter. I once read an interesting meta about this ending and how it could be interpreted (take this with a grain of salt), but the biggest contender is that this is in fact Izuku’s fantasy. Think about it:

Izuku is a humble traveling warrior, with nothing to distinguish himself in his own opinion.

Ochako is a magician because she’s alien to Izuku, an unheard of phenomenon.

Tenya being a knight, Shoto being a prince, and Momo being a warrior princess all correlates to their high standings in society, heroic or otherwise.

The reason Katsuki is a barbarian king is because he’s familiar to Izuku in an ancient sense; he’s known him for a long time. The list goes on, but you get the jist.

With this in mind, it’s not difficult to understand that even Katsuki willing to work with Izuku would be another aspect of Izuku’s fantasy: to be able to stand beside his childhood friend once more. And remember the ending of that scene, when Izuku does that big sword slash? That’s him having fully mastered OFA. Both are things that could happen given the manga’s recent direction, but still have yet to happen because this is, again, a fantasy.

And apparently Datte Atatshi No Hero is a reflection on Izuku’s feelings towards Katsuki. Take that as you will, but again, this does not speak for Bakudeku as a whole. Just Izuku’s feelings on the matter.

7) Win to Save, Save to Win (Manga Screenshot)

Since I’ve already penned myself into a short story at this point, might as well take the time to look at this famous phrase from the story.

Personally, I consider it bulls***. It harms both characters overall; yes, I said both. It excuses Katsuki’s need to be a blunt powerhouse that only targets villains, and it redundantly demands Izuku do more of what he was already doing, albeit with less sympathy. I know it sounds corny to say saving is more important than winning, but in the heat of the moment, what gets to the civilians in danger more often? Seeing a guy in a cape deck the latest disaster right in front of them or from a distance? Or said cape guy risking life and limb making sure that this person gets to see life another day?

There’s no perfect answer to it, but that’s my stance.

And this quote, “Win to save, save to win,” justifies the one thing that keeps Katsuki from truly outgrowing his past: his need to be the best. If winning is on the same level then saving, and Izuku has an innate capacity to save, then that means it’s okay for Katsuki to have to win all the time, right?

No. It’s not. And that’s not speaking for all the “Gary Stu” crap, either.

Because being pressured into being the best is what caused Katsuki to hate any kindness offered to him by Izuku. The desire to be the best had him bully Izuku for a decade to ensure that Izuku remained the loser and Katsuki remained the winner. That desire characterizes arguably the worst aspects of Katsuki’s character, and those aspects aren’t gonna fly in the Pro Hero world. Because if Nana Shimura, Shota Aizawa, the Pussycats, Mirio, Sir Nighteye, and a handful of other incidents have taught us anything, it’s that even at their best efforts, heroes don’t win all the time.

Katsuki needs to learn this, or it will crush him in the long term. But he hasn’t. The narrative has kept letting him rack up wins, and his current actions in the manga were spurred on by the fact that he still has yet to truly take a loss.

Say what you will, but I don’t like this line. For what it says about Izuku or Katsuki.

8) The Only One Who Can Accept His Feelings… (Anime Screenshot)

Me @ #7: Wanna see me go off?

Me @ #8: Wanna see me do it again?

Izuku’s perspective on the entire Bakudeku situation is a major reason why most fans condone it. “Izuku doesn’t appear obviously bothered by Katsuki, so that clearly means it’s not abusive/problematic, so just shut up!” or something like that. Well, I’m no psychologist, so I won’t go into a spiel about people ignoring their pain for the sake of others or people trying to excuse others in order to place fault on themselves whether or not it be accurate.

Really, all I can say is that NONE OF THIS should be Izuku’s responsibility.

I’m not blaming this on Izuku because he hasn’t had actual friends or a healthy support system in a long while, but the fact that he decides to take on and enable Katsuki in his element just… doesn’t sit well with me. The logical conclusion would be talking, not throwing hands. I don’t care if they’re “distressed teenagers,” neither of them should be doing this, and Katsuki was fully aware that the teachers would stop them in the first place; that’s not simply adults meddling in what isn’t their business. Katsuki should have really figured out by now that maybe the best course of action is to actually vent to someone without blowing their face off, and I get that he’s absolute s*** at feelings, but really, that’s more of a red flag that he needs to actually get help. And if you think a little too hard on Izuku’s feelings of the matter, well…

Imagine being ostracized for so long that you lose all sense of self worth.

Imagine being told time and again that your worthless, which checks out for you because clearly if your worthless, the guy that enabled that mindset is obviously better than you, and he’s entitled to use you for his own ends.

That’s what I get from this scene.

And again, this is all from IZUKU at this point; virtually NOTHING from Katsuki.

9) Double Detroit Smash (Heroes Rising)

I’ve already said my piece about the film. At this point, it’s beating a dead horse with a stick. Moving on.

10) Word of God (Miscellaneous)

Here’s the thing about Word of God in fandom: the general consensus is that it’s nice to get confirmation from a credible source, but unless it is portrayed in canon, it’s just more words which may or may not be true.

In this case, Kohei Horikoshi, the mangaka for BNHA, is saying that eventually, Katsuki will have to apologize to Izuku. Eventually.

As in, it still hasn’t happened yet.

As in, Katsuki still has yet to decide that what he did in the past was wrong and he should try to fix it.

As in, it currently shows no bearing towards Katsuki’s current character nor the overall Bakudeku dynamic.

Sure, it MIGHT happen, but in another interview (or mayhaps it’s the same one), Horikoshi stated that Katsuki originally wasn’t intended to get as much screen time as he did. Both of these situations are different of course, but with the recent turbulence of the War Arc shaking up the manga, is it really so hard to believe that an apology might slip away from Katsuki’s thought process?

On the bright side, an apology could happen. But until it’s canon, then it’s only a possibility, and therefore can’t be used fully for the intended argument.

11) X-Catapult Handhold (Heroes Rising)

I bet some people working on the movie and some fans on the movie felt spoiled when they included not one, but two handholding scenes for Izuku and Katsuki.

And while the first handhold is certainly a marvel of battle tactics, again, there isn’t much else going on with it. Is it nice to see Katsuki working with Izuku again? Yes, but contrary to popular belief, it doesn’t go past that. Katsuki’s just willing to work with Izuku, full stop. He’d probably be willing to work with anyone because Nine is f***ing tank. And sure, getting a handhold tease is nice, but it’s only to facilitate Katsuki’s subsequent yeeting of Izuku at Nine in an attempt to do damage. Nothing more pressing about the circumstances of their past or anything like that.

12) A Bit of Advice (Anime Screenshot)

Look, this is one of the tamer, better looks at Izuku and Katsuki’s relationship. He’s willing to put his pride aside and give Izuku some advice. But remember what I said earlier in #4?

It’s not just to make sure Izuku gets better, but so Katsuki can feel like it’s a complete win when he beats his ass.

And if we take the line “It pisses me off” into account, we can look at that flaw from the same angle. Remember, Izuku has All Might’s power, the #1 Hero’s power. To Katsuki, that means he shouldn’t have the luxury of making mistakes. But Izuku does. He makes mistakes, and Katsuki sees them and he doesn’t get to exploit them. He still wins, but not because of those mistakes. And part of that pisses Katsuki off. Izuku shouldn’t get to slack. So, Katsuki gives him some advice. Advice that will no doubt help Izuku in the long run, for his (and Katuki’s) sakes. It’s a good outcome from a not very good reason...

13) Have You Made That Borrowed Power Your Own? (Manga Screenshot)

Yeah, no.

I don’t care if Izuku is used to this treatment, it still isn’t reinforcing an overall positive tone.

I don’t care if Katsuki acknowledges at some level that Izuku’s power is becoming his own, he still has the gall to say it was no wonder he passed BECAUSE of his power. Which may be true, but it’s not like Izuku was relying on it 100%, and lowkey comes off as Quirkist.

All it tells me is that Katsuki is starting to acknowledge Izuku, in the “gadfly I can’t get off my back” sort of way. Is this the “best development” y’all are rooting for? Basic acknowledgement of another human being?

14) Outta My Way Punk! (Manga Screenshot)

Katsuki reflexively tells Izuku to get out of his way.

Izuku is used to it, again, that does not excuse it.

Once again, Katsuki reverts back to his usual behavior instead of showing a more subtle approach to show the audience that maybe he’s changing beyond what a chorus of other characters saying “he’s changed!” has to offer.

...even if it’s not abusive, you can’t really say that’s a “good” relationship, either.

15) Blackwhip Training (Manga Screenshot)

Katsuki willing to train with Izuku to help him master his Quirk(s) is nice.

Still blatantly in his element with lots of needless yelling and dominance assertion, but still nice.

And keep in mind, right after it’s clear they aren’t getting anywhere and Izuku tries to rationalize it, Katsuki decides to dip seeing as it’s not worth his time anymore. And even before that, at least in my translation, Katsuki seems to be more interested in beating out Blackwhip instead of having Izuku get a handle on.

Again, maybe not abusive, but not exactly supportive, either.

16) ??? (Anime Screenshot)

I personally have no idea what they were going for with this screenshot, but if I had to guess, that’s after Katsuki gives Izuku an escape window whilst he faces off against All Might alone during their Final Exams.

While I understand that this is early on in their dynamic’s development, the fact still stands that Katsuki still wants to fight for fighting’s sake. He may have been willing to at least give Izuku a chance, but he still sees Izuku’s retreat as cowardly, even though it’s a perfectly valid way to pass the exam. He still just wants to fight.

There’s no mutuality in that sense.

17) Quote from Justin Briner (Miscellaneous)

I don’t have much of an opinion for Izuku’s English VA, but for what it’s worth, I think overall he’s a really cool dude. The same, however, cannot be said for his quote.

I can buy into Izuku wanting to get stronger because of Katsuki, since that is a major plot point. I can’t do the same for Katsuki seeing the good in people because we don’t ever see it, really? In fact, it’s more like people latch on to Katsuki and he just tolerates them until they’ve completely wormed their way into his life. There’s no scene where Katsuki considers someone a good person because of something Izuku did, or anything even vaguely along those lines, at least to my knowledge.

As for their relationship, there have been more downs than ups, and it isn’t relatable to me in the slightest. Maybe that’s just ‘cause I don’t get the overall appeal, but their friendship never really strikes me as a… well, friendship. You could argue that’s the point and that’s what makes them different and interesting, but I would much rather we see more concrete proof of their relationship being at more understandable highs and lows while actually demonstrating it was mutual.

But again. That’s just me.

18) Joint Training Pep Talk (Manga Screenshot)

I’m basically repeating myself at this point. Katsuki might be keeping tabs on Izuku, but again, it’s not entirely for Izuku’s benefit. He just wants to make sure his new “rival” (successor to the #1 Hero, I might add) isn’t dragging his feet through the mud and actually getting s*** done so their eventual third clash will actually be worth his time.

...this relationship is so one-sided in two entirely different ways, I swear.

19) Speaking With Kacchan So Naturally (Manga Screenshot)

Why are we congratulating Katsuki for adding one more person to his already (surprisingly) sizable tolerance pile?

Why are we congratulating Izuku for bridging a gap other people managed to cross with little to no effort even though he didn’t do anything wrong?

Izuku is essentially saying “Good job on me for finally getting the same treatment as everyone else from that one person after over ten years.” Good on him, but uh… that’s not exactly a landmark worth framing the way the fandom does...

The relationship might not be outright abusive, but HOO BOY the bar has never been set lower...

20) “You’ve got a good friend in him” (Manga Screenshot)

And finally, the pièce de résistance. Which is really more narrative mouthpiece-ing.

Even before that, Katsuki yet again can’t take a compliment from Izuku for whatever reason. Yet again, Izuku just shrugs off all of Katsuki’s discouragement, intentional or otherwise. And I love me some Dadmight as much as the next guy, but really, does he have a good grasp on relationships? His only friends in his life were David and Naomasa, and he’s been shown time and time again to not be the infallible man many think he is due to being the Symbol of Peace? But suddenly he goes “Bakudeku rights” and y’all jump on that with no room for argument?

Katsuki has yet to prove what All Might has been saying. Again, telling rather than showing, therefore removing the meaning from the entire thing. Unless Katsuki proves otherwise, I call bulls***.

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

So, my final verdict? Bakudeku is fine. It’s just not as great as the rest of you are making it out to be. I’m not gonna dictate whatever you ship or what you enjoy, that’s not my place, but at least keep these perspectives in mind. You don’t have to believe them, but just… stay aware, y’know?

Alrighty, I’ve wasted enough of your time. If you’ve read it until the very end, then… thanks. Carry on.

-Crimson Lion (10 August 2020)

[cdarkheartzero]

Today’s theme-

Diary of a security guard part 2- “The snack heist”

A request by @crispysadisticcuddlemuffin

Before we get started, this is a particularly long read and I really appreciate anyone who sees it the whole way through. If you love it and want to see more, hate it, want to see shorter ones- whatever- please let me know. I would love to hear all feedback! Also, sorry if there are errors. I tried my best.

“Data Log Entry: 6549 (dear diary). I was hoping today would be different. That little piece of my brain said “You can just do your job and clock out. You won’t want to bring your own ruin.” Looks like the universe has thrown a wrench in my day again. You know... I signed up to keep smeets safe from the outside world. Not protect the outside from the smeets. Okay. Just one smeet. THAT LITTLE SHIT.”

[[MORE]]

“I’m rambling. Lemme start at the beginning- so, I am about an hour into my shift and I see Zim and another smeet, Skoodge in the midst of a real interesting discussion. And by that, I mean I see Zim posing and waving his little demon hands around as his shit eating grin explained SOMETHING I couldn’t quite make out. Skoodge was drooling at the mouth in silent awe at whatever the delinquent was telling him.”

“Now, I am no fool. I know this is nothing good. I try to keep as close of an eye on them as best I can. But I do have an actual JOB to do, you know? This door ain’t going to guard itself. The longer the conversation seems to carry on, the more I notice Zim turning his head in my direction. He knows I know he is up to something. He gives me that smirk. You know those “moments before disaster” photos? That’s what that face is to me.”

“Eventually the two of them move from where they are and casually stroll behind a desk. I can no longer see them. And I can feel myself tense up. “Today is the day he kills me” is the first thought I have. Then I catch myself. “He is a SMEET. I can handle this!”I don’t know how long I zoned out for but I see their little heads peek out at me snapping me out of my one-Irken internal conversation. Skoodge looked scared, firmly holding onto his partner-in-crime for comfort. Ya’ll already know the face Zim was making.”

“Suddenly, I hear metal pieces clap together and the two of them let out a giggle. I stroll over, not knowing what to expect but NOT EXPECTING THIS. They are playing with some scattered toys. Like Smeets are supposed to. They stare at me blankly. I can’t say anything. They technically aren’t doing anything wrong. Dammit! “I’m watching you two” is squinted as I stared Zim in the face. His expression never changed. A blank canvas. Now, the thing about Zim is that his mug was very revealing. I can usually tell when he is about to wreck havoc. When something upsets him. When he has an idea. But this face? Scared me more. Regardless, I return to my post defeated. The moment I turned my back, the giggling and metallic banging continued.”

“IT HAS BEEN HOURS OF THAT DAMN METAL BANGING. The giggles disappeared at some point without my noticing but THAT NOISE. THAT IRKEN SOUND! I don’t know HOW the rest of the Smeetery staff isn’t bashing their heads against the wall praying for the sweet release of death. I can’t take it anymore. I walk over. “

*note says “you lose”

“Somehow. SOMEHOW. They were gone. And this mechanical monstroucity stared back at me, magnets pulling the two cymbals together to make THAT NOISE. I know this handiwork. I have dismantled enough home-made bombs to know. Zim made it out of the toys I saw scattered earlier. Impressive that he crafted this without the proper tools but I don’t have time to admire his creation.”

“I LOST THE SMEETS! OH MY TALLEST, HE IS LOOSE! I DON’T KNOW WHEN HE DISAPPEARED SO HE COULD BE ANYWHERE!”

“Okay... okay. Think Zara. THIIIINK. Clues to where he could be... oh my Tallest if anyone finds out about this I am dead!...Okay...wait...The other one.. he was drooling. I will check the scack storage areas!”

“Called over a fellow guard and told him to take my place right quick. Then I HAULED IT. I checked 4 storage rooms (in record time might I add) before I saw one with a slight slit in the door. BINGO.”

“Yup. This is about what I expected. There was not a single box or package that was not ravaged. Chips and candies covering every square inch of the floor. Sheer carnage. I hear a groan and draw my eyes to this gicantic pile of junk food. The two of them sprawled out. I have been to academy parties that ended tamer than this. I attempt to make my way over without busting my ass on the hundreds of jawbreakers crunching beneath me feet.”

“Skoodge looked like the happiest smeet in the world. His cheeks twice as puffy and his smile the widest I have ever seen on a living creature. He was hugging onto a lollipop. It was kinda cute to be honest. I scoop him up. He doesn’t stir at all. Just snores on.”

“Then I notice next to him was another body. Heavy panting and groaning escaping Zim’s pale face. Oh shit. Was he having a reaction to something??? Please, you little monster, DO NOT DIE ON MY WATCH! I’m afraid to pick him up but I know I gotta get him to the medical station STAT! I scoop my hand under his little frame as gentle as I can and try to make my way out of this room without falling on these two and REALLY KILLING THEM.”

“Ya’ll, I didn’t even make it 4 steps out of the room when Zim grabs onto my uniform and just... lets loose. I did not know that little stomach could hold so much vomit. So, picture me, right? Security guard for the SMEETERY (it is the easiest security job in the empire) with two lost smeets in my hands (IE I am not good at my job) covered in a rainbow color of spew while candy is rolling out of the room behind me.”

“I brought the smeets back where they belong. Zim could choke on his vomit for all I care. Not my problem. I am headed to the showers. I hate that LITTLE SHIT SO MUCH. And NOW, I gotta replace all that candy. I am disgusting. My head is pounding. I’m done for the day. “

“Security guard Zara signing off”

[bookworm-2692]

About a week ago I finally finished bookbinding @airdeari‘s beautiful Zero Escape fic The First Nonary Game. It took about a month (between all the waiting for glue to dry and also several days each week when I was unable to work on it), and was so much fun! It’s so satisfying to just... hold this book in my hands. 

Details about how I made it, along with additional photos (and commentary) below the cut.

So I came across this post on Tumblr, which immediately inspired me to try bookbinding myself. I spent a few days watching so many tutorials from the youtube channel linked in the post (I’ll link the specific tutorials I used in this post), and googling how to actually manage to print pages so they form proper signatures, because the inbuilt booklet creator in Word doesn’t exist in my Word apparently so that’s fun.

Anyway, once I started, I asked @airdeari for permission to print and bind his fic, and he immediately said yes, so that was good. Then I spent a good couple of days copying the entire fic into a Word document, and fiddling with formatting so it would look like an actual book (section breaks, page numbers, headers with the fic title on the left page and chapter title on the right page (this took ages to work and I kept on stuffing it up), and making sure things just... looked nice. I added in the art After The War that @keycrash created specifically for the fic (third pic above), and an “afterword” containing credit and links and the author’s notes from AO3 (because even if I’m the only one who will ever see it, it still feels weird to not add the credit stuff in so it’s there).

I then saved the document as a PDF, and used CheapImposter to correctly shuffle (impose, hence “imposter”) the pages so when folded into signatures, each page would be in the correct order. This program was the first free one I could find, and was great because you could specify the number of sheets you want per signature, rather than stuck with a default. I chose to have 11 signatures of 6 sheets of paper, since that was the amount that would have the least blank pages and the end of the book. The file was 261 pages, so with two pages per side, and two sides per sheet, you divide the number of pages by 4 to get 66 sheets of paper

I then printed. There was only one (1) paper jam in the process, which was great. Unfortunately, I realised after I printed that one of the headers for one chapter was wrong (I hadn’t properly disconnected the two chapters), but fortunately that only involved reprinting 4 sheets of paper.

I used the following tutorials to make the books: DIY Textblock, a general “how to make a textblock” tutorial; DIY Kettle Stitch, a specific look at the stitching for a textblock, since the first tutorial doesn’t focus on this; DIY Book Cloth, since I chose to use fabric for my cover; and DIY Hardcover Book, how to put all those pieces together.

So then I started folding all the signatures. I was watching so much Brooklyn Nine-Nine during both the folding and stitching sections, since it was repetitive actions I didn’t need to concentrate on that lasted hours.

It was at this point that I sliced each signature one by one to make the end smoother and less pointy. In future I recommend not doing it at this point - wait until the very end. Instead, move straight onto stitching. 

I don’t have any photos of the stitching portion, since my phone died the morning I started the stitching, and I wasn’t able to replace it until after all the stitching was done. In fact, originally all the photos from before the stitching were lost too. It was only about two days ago that magically the My Photo Stream thing kicked in and brought back all the photos - if it had worked two weeks earlier I would’ve had more. As it is, all photos from September to January are gone forever, unfortunately. But that’s another discussion entirely.

The above is the first book photo on my new phone, so as you can see, all the stitching was completed, the spine was glued, and the purple paper attached. I couldn’t buy two A4 sheets, so instead I had to buy one A3 sheet and cut it in half. Which was difficult cycling home from the city with an A3 sheet that didn’t fit in my bag on account of being A3 and not A4, but oh well.

I don’t have a book press, so I used a pile of DND books and my brother’s weights instead, as shown below.

I then had to re-slice the book after this point bc my first go wasn’t even, on account of slicing each signature separately. Next time definitely I’ll just do it at the end like this. I then also sanded it to make it smoother. It’s still not perfect, but it’s something that’ll take practice and patience so.

Next I made the book cloth, which involves using appliqué sheets to combine cotton fabric and tissue paper. But first I want to talk about the fabric I chose for the cover, because I’m quite proud of it. I spent ages wandering around the shop, trying to find something that fit the feel of the book. Spoilers for the content of the fic if you haven’t read it yet, and also for the source material (999/Zero Escape). I was thinking about some sort of blue swirl thing, because of the Gigantic sinking. I found that, but hesitated because it didn’t fully fit, and my favourite colour is blue so I always pick blue. I also considered flames/fire because of the incinerator thing, but couldn’t find any. I can’t remember if I just couldn’t find any four leaf clover fabric, or if I’ve just since thought about that as a cover. But instead I chose the butterflies below. They fit in several subtle ways that I’m proud of. The colours of blue and pink(/red) matching the receiver and transmitter coding all throughout 999, as well as the moments of purple as well (I don’t think I need to get into that, I’m sure it was analysed to hell and back when the game first came out). The butterflies also point towards the butterfly effect, and in turn the different timelines present in the series. So together it just works. /spoilers over

It’s also just a pretty fabric.

Now the making of the book cloth. I had to make it twice, because I was too impatient the first time, so the iron was too hot and it steamed, which wrinkled and warped the tissue paper, so the fabric was all wrinkly too. The second time took ages and was a worse quality appliqué sheet, but worked well enough anyway.

(My parents: did you have the iron out? what were you ironing? you never iron)

And then I cut the book board to size, using the measurements from the tutorial video. I’ll repeat them here: front and back cover: width = width of textblock minus 3mm, and height = height of textblock plus 6mm, and spine width = width of textblock spine, spine height = same height as covers

I then glued the board onto the book cloth, and put it under the book press. The dnd books are not large enough to cover the whole thing, and also I really wanted the board to stay flat and not curl, so I grabbed way more dnd books and way more of my brother’s weights. I also accidentally started putting the glue on the wrong side of the board (bc one side is smooth and the other is rough), hence the colour difference as well.

The corners were cut and folded and glued over...

And then the textblock was glued in, and put in my book press for a whole weekend. I added a sheet of paper to absorb the glue so the pages wouldn’t become wrinkly, but instead the sheet I added was fine and every other page in the book is wrinkly. So I dunno what happened there. After the weekend I took it out and looked at it, and then put it back for another week to be sure.

And then the complete book is shown at the top of the post!

As I was starting I was talking a lot about it, like about the process I had to go through, or how I was going to obtain what I needed, etc. Mum asked if she could read the story. I froze, like a deer in the headlights... because this is a fanfic. She saw my fear and immediately backed down, explaining she only wanted to read it because if the story was that important to me that I was going to literally turn it into a book, she wanted to read it to yknow like know me better or something? Which makes sense. And when I got over my initial reaction, and remembered that indeed it was technically my dad who introduced me to fanfic, and thought about it more, I said okay. Because since the fic is technically a prequel to the first game, and most of the characters are technically OC’s (like, from the first game we know that all eighteen children must exist, but most of them don’t have names or anything so they are effectively OC’s), then knowledge of source material isn’t strictly necessary. This fic can probably be enjoyed on its own. I mean I’ll probably have to explain the concept of morphogenetic fields, and the last four chapters might not make sense? But I’m okay for my mum to read it. So when she’s less busy at work I’m going to download the epub onto her phone for her - we’ll see how it goes.

Anyway, this fic is a masterpiece, extremely well written and I highly recommend it. As said, most of the characters are effectively OC’s, and yet they are all given such rich histories and personalities. All of them have access to the morphogenetic field, so I’m just so glad that @airdeari​ explores nine unique relationships with the field - nine unique sibling dynamics, and esper powers and abilities. It’s just so good.

[fantasyoverreality98]

Over You

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Isabelle Rosenberg)

Summary: Isabelle struggles to come to terms with her breakup with Ethan, but the two seem unable to stay away from each other.

Author’s Note: Don’t know why all my Ethan fics are full of angst, but here we go again. I’ve been missing OH, so I decided, why not post this little thing I wrote a few weeks ago to try and cope with my desire for the book? Thanks to anyone who reads and (as always) I apologize for any potential typos or grammatical errors.

Word Count: 2,644

---

It felt like electricity shooting through her when Ethan’s hand grazed hers. He studied her face, lines appearing between his brows as he frowned. She had to resist the urge to reach out and smooth them out, the way she once had.

“Isabelle, did you hear a word I said?”

Baz and June watched the two of them, not bothering to hide their suspicious stares. Two months had passed since Ethan and Isabelle made the mutual decision to call their relationship quits, but her heart still ached every single time she saw him. She knew that it was making everyone at the hospital suspicious, but she didn’t care.

“Sorry, Ethan. Could you repeat that?” Heat rushed to her face when his eyes refused to leave her face.

Ethan sighed, taking his glasses off and setting them down on the table. He looked over at Baz and June, who were still watching without a word. Baz raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as he tried to hold back a smirk.

“Dr. Rosenberg, have you been feeling okay lately? You seem distracted.” The nonchalant tone of Ethan’s voice made Isabelle’s heart ache even more.

She looked down at the table, afraid that if anyone on the diagnostics team saw her eyes, the thoughts running through her mind would be reflected within them. “I’m fine, Dr. Ramsey. I promise I’ll pay better attention.”

Instead of answering, Ethan continued to talk about their latest patient’s symptoms. He kept asking Isabelle questions, ignoring Baz and June’s obvious stares. When they finished for the day, he called out to her.

“Isabelle. Can I have a word?”

“Sure.” She caught June’s eye, and quickly turned away, hating the way the slightest bit of sympathy shone in the doctor’s face. “What is it?”

Ethan waited for the doors to close before he spoke, taking a seat behind his desk. “Something’s on your mind. I’m not an idiot, I can see it. Everyone can see it.”

“It’s nothing.” Telling the truth was not an option. Admitting that she couldn’t focus because she was in love with the head of the diagnostics team, with her associate, would only make things worse.

He watched her, the scowl etched onto his face softening. “Does it have anything to do with me?” Ethan rose from his seat, crossing the room to her. She flinched when he touched her face, running his fingers across her jawline.

“Don’t,” she whispered, not daring to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this with you. I can’t.”

For the past two months, she had been telling herself that this was for the best. The feelings that she had for Ethan were beginning to interrupt her work. Long nights spent together in his apartment had made both of them nearly late for work several times a week, and everyone in the hospital had started to look at them differently. Of course, the chances of them knowing about their relationship were high. Breaking things off wouldn’t convince people that something hadn’t been going on before.

“Maybe you should get some more rest. That might do you some good.” Ethan stepped back, clearing his throat. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Isabelle couldn’t stop herself from snorting, turning away to hide the hurt she felt. Both of them had agreed to end things, and she had thought that it wouldn’t hurt so much getting over him, but she still felt it. Bryce had tried to cheer her up by taking her out to dinner the week before, and while it had been nice for a little while, the guilt eventually forced her to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan,” Isabelle said, keeping her back turned to him. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He started to follow her. “Isabelle, wait, I—” The door closed behind her, and she hurried to get as far away from his office as possible.      

“What’s up Doc?” Bryce approached her when she reached a nurses’ station, a grin plastered across his face. “You don’t look so happy. Want me to help with that?”

Sighing, she turned to face him. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m gonna have to pass.”

He frowned, moving closer to her. “Seriously, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Isabelle started to walk away, but Bryce grabbed her wrist. Surprised, she turned around to look at him.

“You can talk to me about it. I’m here for you.”

Bryce was without a doubt one of the sweetest people she’d ever met. If things had been different, she knew that he was the type of person she would want to spend the rest of her life with. Before there had ever been a possibility of her and Ethan, she’d seen herself ending up with Bryce. The two of them had hooked up on several occasions throughout their intern year.

“I don’t know if I can talk to anyone about it,” she admitted with a sigh.

He pulled her closer to him, leaning against the station as he stared into her eyes. “Does it have anything to do with a certain Dr. Ethan Ramsey?”

“Wha—How did you—”

“Come on, Iz. Do you think the people who work in this hospital are stupid?” Bryce laughed, chewing on his bottom lip as he watched her. “You two were secretly seeing each other.” It wasn’t a question.

With a sigh, she leaned against the station, her arm brushing against Bryce’s. “I suppose there’s no point lying to you. When did you figure it out?”

He smirked, shrugging as he playfully nudged her with his elbow. “I guessed there was something going on between you two when you stopped finding any opportunity to make out with me.”

“Bryce!” She felt heat rush to her face, trying to cover it as he laughed at her. “It’s not funny.”

“Honestly, I think you two make an odd couple. He’s way too broody for you. You seem like the type of person who enjoys having fun.”

Isabelle’s shoulders drooped, memories of times in Ethan’s apartment rushing back. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him. Believe it or not, the man has a sense of humor.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Bryce looked around before leaning closer. “My offer still stands, by the way. I have a few minutes to spare.”

It was nearly impossible for her to remain upset in his presence. “And what, exactly, are you proposing?”

“Whatever you want.” He reached out to grab a piece of her curly brown hair, twirling it around his finger. She felt her heart begin to race when his brown eyes raised to meet hers. “I’ve been dying to get you alone for a while.”

He was so incredibly good at making her forget about everything. She wasn’t sure if she should love or hate him for it. With a shaky breath, Isabelle’s gaze flickered to the on-call room.

No. That was a horrible idea.

“I have five minutes.” She watched someone else enter the room, part of her relieved.

Bryce groaned as he watched the room become occupied. “Guess that’s out of the question. Think there are any supply closets available?”

Isabelle couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head when she looked up at him. “I’m sure there’s one somewhere. But we’d waste all our time searching for an empty one. I really should get back to work. And so should you.”

“You can talk to me about him, okay?” Bryce took her hand. When their eyes met again, he’d dropped the flirtatious smirk. “I’m here for you. Breakups can be tough. I get it.”

Her voice caught in her throat, and she felt tears threaten to fill her eyes. “I keep telling myself that I’m over him, but I know it’s not true.” Isabelle cleared her throat, standing up straight when she saw Ethan round the corner. Their eyes met, and she forced herself to look back at Bryce. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Bryce frowned, moving to follow her, but Ethan stepped between them. He looked back and forth between the two, his shoulders sagging as he took a step back. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you around then. Bye, Iz.”

“Are you certain that you’re fine?” Ethan looked down at her, quickly glancing at the nurse station before he moved closer to her. “We can go somewhere to talk if you need to.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as the two of them started to walk down the hallway. “If I need to? I’m an adult, Ethan, I can take care of myself.”

His steps faltered, and he stopped in front of a supply closet. “Isabelle. Maybe we should have a more serious discussion about us. You’ve been distracted the past couple weeks.”

The way he could talk about their relationship so casually caused a sharp pain in her chest. She had told him she loved him the night they decided to call it off. She had told him she loved him, and he hadn’t been able to say it back.

Getting over him should be easy. It wasn’t like she didn’t have options. Bryce was right there, offering to help her in any way he could. But it felt wrong to use him like that. He deserved better.

“What’s left to talk about?” Isabelle asked, trying to keep a neutral expression as she checked the charts for her next patient. “It was a mutual agreement to end our relationship. There’s nothing else to say.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Ethan had a way of making her lose her train of thought just by looking at her. “Why don’t you come to my apartment later, and we have a proper conversation? I want to help you. I want to keep working with you.”

Isabelle refused to look him in the eyes. She kept her attention fixed on the chart, reading over the same information half a dozen times. “I can’t. I’m busy.” If they met outside of the workplace, she knew what would happen. It had been the same story her entire first year on the diagnostics team. A conversation really meant sex, and sex meant that she would fall right back into the trap.

“I—”

“If you don’t mind, Dr. Ramsey, I have patients to attend to.” Isabelle finally looked into his eyes, summoning what little strength she had left to look indifferent. Bored. “I’m sure you have work to do yourself.” She forced a smile before walking away, waiting until she’d rounded a corner before she fell back against the wall.

The hallway was too public, so Isabelle found an empty supply closet and hid inside. She struggled to breathe, no longer caring about holding back the tears. Quiet sobs filled the small room as she furiously wiped her eyes.

It was stupid to cry over a man who tried his best to pretend they hadn’t been together for eight months. It was stupid to expect that he would ever tell her that he loved her back. It was stupid of her to believe, for just one fleeting moment, that the two of them would have worked out.

“Stop it,” she mumbled to herself, wiping away the last tears before she stood tall and fanned her face, hoping that it wouldn’t be so obvious she’d just cried.

Ethan was standing nearby when she stepped out of the supply closet. With a frustrated sigh, Isabelle walked right past him, hurrying to deal with her next patient. She could see him linger outside the room, watching her as she dealt with the woman around her age.

“You need to find something else to do,” she said to him as she left the patient’s room, praying for one of her friends to appear. “I told you I’m fine.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he watched her without a word. The two of them walked around the hospital in silence. When she’d finished checking in on her patients, Isabelle turned to Ethan with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m serious. What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, it’s impacting the quality of your work. You’ve been almost silent during our last few meetings. It’s not like you.”

She shook her head, commanding herself to get over him on the spot. Things couldn’t continue this way much longer. “You really want to know what’s wrong? Honestly?”

Ethan kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to continue.

Isabelle sighed, putting down her charts to talk to him face to face. “I’m still in love with you. And I know that you don’t feel the same. But I’m trying to get over you, so you constantly following me around isn’t helping. You inviting me over isn’t helping. Your presence in general is. Not. Helping.”

It looked like he was about to respond, but she knew that would only make it worse.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Dr. Ramsey, I have work to do. As do you. I will see you tomorrow.” Isabelle just barely managed to get to the women’s bathroom before she collapsed against the stalls, struggling to breathe. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, listening to the quiet drip from one of the sinks.

She should have been over him by now. Breaking up had never been easy before, but this time it hurt so much more. Isabelle still spent hours thinking about Ethan, remembering what their relationship had been like at its highest point. It didn’t help that she had to see him every single day and pretend that nothing had gone on between them.

Aside from the sneaking around in the hospital, trying not to rouse suspicion, the two of them had gone out in public whenever they weren’t working.

They’d had their differences, the stupid spats when things didn’t go exactly as planned, but those little moments of tension had been worth it for the good times. She loved him. She loved him so much that it was almost impossible to envision a future without him.

Isabelle wiped the tears away, forcing herself to stand and walk toward the mirror hanging over the sink. She studied her reflection, unable to stop from laughing at how terrible she looked. If anyone had had doubts about her involvement with Ethan before, there was little room for questioning it now. Even she could see the heartbreak plastered all over her face.

“I am over him,” she whispered, repeating it a second time, only louder.

Maybe if she kept saying it, told herself that it was over, it would start to become true. They had ended on mutual terms. It had been the decision of them both. Yet, here she was, pining for a man who couldn’t even tell her that he loved her.

Someone entered the bathroom, and Isabelle straightened up, avoiding eye contact with the nurse as she passed by her and back into the hallway. It felt like everyone was staring at her. She wished one of her friends would appear. After taking another moment to compose herself, she continued doing rounds.

Hours later, she encountered Ethan again. He briefly took her hand in his, not seeming to care if anyone else saw. And just like that, she found herself falling all over again.

“Would you like to go out for coffee?” Ethan asked, and she wanted to ask him just what he thought he was doing.

Instead, Isabelle agreed. Perhaps one day she would be over him, but today would not be that day. Neither would tomorrow. But she was done fighting it. She loved him, and deep down, a part of her knew that he loved her too.

Even if he would never admit it.

And so, they would continue their game.