#I’m upset but it’s not entirely about the dumb teens

[thefictionaffair]

y’all ever think it’s ok I’ve grown I’ve moved past this, this cannot hurt me

only for the thing to happen and suddenly your 13 all over again, and because I am not actually 13 it feels worse actually

[hey-august]

August, if you ever wonder if some of your readership would like to hear your thoughts about Buggy and Reader in a poly relationship with either crossguild or Shuggy… WELP. There’s at least one.

I just want that clown to smooch me and also several other men who may or may not scare the shit out of him or incite deep feelings of rage in him. He’s very smoochable and I’m willing to share (and I just like to think about the added hilarity with any of these characters still in the picture)

omgggg yes!! I deeply adore the dynamics of all those relationships. The clown is just so...adaptable? Blendable? Sharable? Adorable.

I do have some Shanks x Buggy x Reader headcanons to share!

But first, for Cross Guild x Reader needs, I so strongly recommend @discordantwritings stories here (I'm pretty sure Our Precious Assistant Pt 2 changed my brain chemistry) and @turtletaubwrites' Numbers Game, which just started and is so good already. ❤️❤️❤️

Nowwww, let's talk Shuggy x Reader.

Word count: ~1.2k Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, shanks x buggy x GN!reader, mix of fluffy and smutty thoughts, teasing, oral reader + m receiving, insertion sex, threesome, some praise, sorry for anything that's extremely ooc

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Date Nights

The first time you had a planned date with Shanks, Buggy sailed away so “date night” became “date week.” Buggy was jealous and embarrassed, which you both expected. You were annoyed at first, because this had been planned and discussed, but talking with Shanks calmed you down. This was new territory for all of you and it would take time to navigate. So when Buggy came back, no one made a fuss about it. If anything, you and Shanks were a little softer and a little kinder with the clown. Buggy picked up on the acceptance in your actions and it made him feel better. This also kicked off weekend-long dates, which you all look forward to.

One of your favorite dates with Shanks was when he took you to a town he frequented. The afternoon was spent strolling Main Street and shopping, although that was more of an excuse for Shanks to show you off. The evening ended at a cozy pub where he regaled you with alluring tales. Even though you heard some of them before, listening to him talk puts stars in your eyes. An expression that simply melts him.

Your favorite Buggy date was actually a party on his ship. You two were inseparable the entire night and the highlight was singing along to music at the end of the night. “Singing.” You were both bottles deep and could hardly get full words out, but the (hazy) memory of laughing and giggling your ways through the inebriated performance while holding on to each other always makes you smile. Buggy often catches that particular goofy grin on your face and he just adores it.

Buggy and Shanks also spend time together, which is surprising-not surprising. Buggy might claim that he’s upset with Shanks and needs to go yell at him, or wants to gloat about something. Shanks tries to entice Buggy with the promise of shiny goodies and treasure. Everyone knows it’s a farce, but it’s how they show they care for each other. There’s no denying the sparks in their eyes afterwards.

Petty Arguments

When these two get together, their inner children teens come out in full swing. And so do the jokes and petty arguments.

Shanks messes with Buggy any chance he gets. Teasing comments, swapping his nearly empty drink with Buggy’s fuller glass, dumb jokes.

He’ll also tease you, but in the form of cheesy pick-up lines. “If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together.” “I was feeling a little off today, but you've turned me on again.” “Did you do something to my eyes? I can't seem to take them off you.”

Buggy can’t stand when your attention is on Shanks for too long, so he’ll try and out-do the other pirate. He has a repertoire of card drinks and sleight of hands, which often do the trick.

Shanks knows what Buggy is doing and teases him. “I know you’re a performer, but there’s no need to make a scene.” Buggy didn’t like that one.

There was the one time Buggy challenged Shanks to a juggling challenge. When Shanks declined, Buggy was ready with his own comeback. “It’s not because of the arm, it’s because he doesn’t have the balls.” Surprisingly, that spurred Shanks into joining the 2-man competition.

Speaking of being competitive…

Sex with them individually is nothing like having sex all together.

At first, you were often at the mercy of the two men who were intent on proving how well they could pleasure you. Once, they wanted to see who was better at oral and could make you cum the most times. The more orgasms you had, the less lucid you became and the competition turned into finding out who would you beg to fuck you. Even though the countless orgasms emptied your head, you remembered that this all started with oral and you didn’t want to mess with the rules of their contest. When they realized you were trying so hard not to whine and ask for their dicks, they started asking you. - “Baby, want me to fuck you? C’mon, don’t you want to feel this inside you?” - “You look so good on my tongue, but you’d look better on my cock. Tell me you want it.”

Unfortunately (fortunately?) there was no clear winner. Buggy was between your legs yet again, with your fingers entwined in his hair and your head was flopped to the side. You said “please, want you inside,” but they couldn’t agree on who you were talking to. Shanks is adamant that you were looking at him, but Buggy calls bullshit and claims you were talking to him because he was the one making you feel good.

There are sessions where you and Shanks focus more on Buggy. It took a lot of time for Buggy to feel relaxed enough to accept the attention, but you two wore him down and won him over. He’ll rarely admit it, but Buggy loves being sandwiched between you and Shanks. The feeling of sinking his cock into you while he’s stretched around Shanks is so overwhelmingly delicious that Buggy gets greedy. He can’t get enough of moving his hips so he can fuck you and fuck himself on Shanks’ cock. The sweet moans and whimpers he releases are intoxicating. Buggy’s often the first to cum in this position, but Shanks will continue to fuck you through Buggy, knowing how to maneuver Buggy’s hips and thrust until you climax.

In turn, there are the moments where you and Buggy cater to Shanks. He never gets tired of watching you and Buggy fight to suck his leaking cock. The way you struggle to throat his member while Buggy focuses on smearing his face paint on Shanks’ thighs and balls through sloppy kisses is a vision that gets Shanks hard at a moment’s notice. Buggy’s attention is fierce and demanding - he’s trying to unravel Shanks entirely. It's a power trip thing. Whereas you balance that heat with restrained touches. When Shanks cums in your mouth, you always share with Buggy and make sure to show Shanks that you both swallowed his entire load. Seeing you hold Buggy by his hair and squeezing the clown's cheeks to present his empty mouth is a sinfully beautiful encore.

Your favorite times are the ones where you get to spoil Shanks and Buggy. You tend and care to their needs. Your gentleness wipes away their fierce competitive streaks. You make sure that you give them both a surplus of attention and shower them with desire. If you’re riding or under one, your hands and eyes are on the other. You pour praise and compliments until they’re overflowing. And the way it overflows is music to your ears. They turn the praise to you and to each other. - “You look amazing on Buggy’s cock.” - “Get on Shanks and make him feel good, I wanna see that sweet face you make.” - “Pretty thing, you’re taking him so well.” - “Good job, you know how to make him moan so loud.” - “You’re going to make him cum, keep going.”

The cuddles after these sessions? Heavenly. Amazing. Buggy, who normally takes up the entire bed, sleeps so peacefully when you and Shanks are on either side of him. Sometimes, when Buggy passes out first, you’ll claim the middle spot and wake up to the two pirates wrapped around you. It’s a little sweaty and a lot comforting.

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 8 - The Heat Is On

IN THIS CHAPTER: A college acceptance letter, Hawkins High School's The Weekly Streak gets a new assistant editor, and Eddie puts his plan in motion [4.4k]

WARNINGS: college anxiety, eddie being mean to himself

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

You can make a break, you can win or lose That's a chance you take, when the heat's on you

Wednesday, April 30th - 1986

“Dude, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

It was a stormy Wednesday, the last day of April, and Mrs. Click had just finished writing the units her final would cover on the blackboard when Dottie inched her chair towards Jeff with a worried expression on her face. World History was their last class before lunch period, and as the minutes ticked on, Jeff had progressively sank down further and further into his seat, as if he were melting from the inside out. He blinked a few times before lifting his head from his arms to look at his friend sitting beside him.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he laughed breathlessly.

“D’you need to go to the nurse? I can tell Mrs. Click-” Dottie was already getting up from her chair when he extended a hand towards her general direction to stop her and shook his head.

“I’m okay. Don’t- don’t get up. I’m just…,” he sighed and slid an official looking envelope that was hiding under his notebook towards her. “This arrived today.”

She craned her neck to see the fancy letters on the corner of the paper, her eyes widening in surprise. Holy shit.

“Is this…?”

“Yep,” Jeff replied, popping the last letter past his lips.

“It’s not open.”

“No, I, uh… I wanted to open it at lunch with everyone else,” he admitted. “I’m starting to think it was a terrible idea.”

“What? No, no, no, this is great, Jeff, oh my god! I’m so happy for you!”

“You don’t even know if I got in.”

Dottie held the envelope in her hand, feeling the weight of Jeff’s entire future on her palm. West Virginia State University, read the logo at the top. She knew what was at stake here; this was the last college he’d applied to but it was the only one that he actually gave a damn about. In the back of a drawer in Jeff’s bedroom desk sat three rejection letters from places he hadn’t even dared to dream he could attend: UPenn, UC Berkeley, and UT Austin, but with his GPA and SAT scores he knew they would never be a possibility for him. He would have had to go back in time and redo his entire high school career to even be near the level he had to be to get into any of those three. Still, he had gone through the trouble of applying to them to appease his father who was still upset he wasn’t willing to get shipped off to the military as his first option like he had done. Like his older brother had done. But there was something special about WVSU, the college his grandfather and mother had graduated from, an HBCU, a place where he would mean something, could become someone. A place where he would be more than yet another dumb teen being handed a gun he was terrified of ever having to use.

No, WVSU was the place he needed to be at. He wanted to be a Yellow Jacket more than he had ever wanted to be anything else in his life. He wanted to make his granddad proud, wanted to be his mother’s son. The bell ringing snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned to look at Dottie, his face turning green, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

“You got this,” she grabbed his hand and squeezed, grounding him. “We’re gonna be proud of you no matter what this letter says, but I just know that you got in.”

“I can’t go to the military, Dot.”

“You won’t. You got into West Virginia. Breathe, Jeff. Breathe.”

He nodded once, twice, and finally gave her a weak smile, moving to collect his things and head out for lunch. He realized he hadn’t copied what was on the blackboard but he was sure he could ask Dottie later. She had been writing as Mrs. Click was talking, she had to know what their exam would cover. In all honesty, he was very comforted by the fact that he could turn his brain off and let her take over for him, only worrying about silently existing within his own body and focusing on getting his nausea under control.

With the letter carefully tucked into his coat pocket again, he grabbed his books and followed his friend towards their lockers; Jeff was only barely aware that Donny had joined them on their way towards the cafeteria, excitedly chatting with Dottie about a mixtape he was working on for Eddie’s birthday. She kept a gentle lock on his arm at all times, guiding him through the hallways until they reached their table, the other boys already in their usual seats. Jeff sat down feeling heavier than he’d ever felt in his entire life and took a sip of Coke with trembling hands around the cold can in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

“You alright, man?” Eddie asked, looking him over carefully.

“Yeah,” Jeff’s voice came out strangled. “I, uh. I have news, I guess.”

“Okay,” his wild haired friend lifted his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

“Jeff has a very important letter to open, and he’d like to do it with us,” Dottie clarified when the boy didn’t reply.

“College?” Eddie mouthed to her quietly, and smiled when she nodded once, her eyes wide. “Alright, gentlemen,” he lifted a hand to bring everyone’s conversations to a halt. “I’m gonna need everyone to be respectful and supportive right now, ‘kay? Jeff is about to find out if he has been granted safe passage out of Hawkins.”

Jeff stared at the letter with unfocused eyes for a few beats before he shifted forward in his seat. He thrust his hand towards Eddie and swallowed, making his decision as he spoke.

“You open it.”

The older boy looked at him with curious eyes and silently took the envelope from his hands, paying attention to how Jeff seemed to tense up but also relax at the same time once he realized there was no turning back now. Everyone at the table was waiting for their leader to take charge and Eddie felt a very familiar sensation settling on his chest - this is how they looked at him at the start of each Hellfire session: with trusting eyes, hopeful, excited, and, perhaps, even a little bit scared. He ripped open the letter, careful to not destroy what was inside, his face giving away nothing as he gave it a quick overlook.

“Dear Mr. Jeffrey Patton,” he began, rising from his chair and using the clear voice he had stored inside for pompous characters in his campaigns. Dustin chuckled and he continued. “After careful review of your application and supporting documents, we are pleased to extend this offer of acceptance-”

“HOLY SHIT!” Jeff let out the biggest screech they had ever heard coming from him in the many years the boys had known him.

“You got in!” Gareth and Dottie said at the same time, pulling him up and into a frantic hug as the rest of the boys cheered around the table.

“I got in!”

“Keep reading!” Mike pleaded with a grin.

“We are pleased to extend this offer of acceptance into the baccalaureate degree program at West Virginia State University for the September 1986 semester,” Eddie read in his normal voice, watching his friends erupt in celebration. “We are excited about you joining us as a student at WVSU!”

“Dude, you’re going to college!” Donny shook Jeff who still had disbelief painted all over his face.

“You’re not just going to college, you’re going to your dream college!” Dottie added, vibrating with excitement.

“Congrats, man,” Eddie told him, putting the letter back in his hand. “You totally deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Jeff looked at him for a second before pulling the taller boy into a side hug. “For everything.”

“Ah, no worries,” he palmed his back in return. “Come back and visit often, okay? We’re gonna miss our main singer.”

“I’ll kill you if you replace me,” he joked back, feeling lighter than a feather.

As everyone congratulated Jeff and lunch ticked on, Eddie had the sinking feeling that he was losing his grip on his own life in the last few months of his third senior year. He was barely hanging onto the hope that he’d finally get to graduate and pass down the Hellfire torch to Dustin and Mike, but the large backlog of assignments he had never completed piling at the back of his locker was making him much more uncomfortable than he’d like to admit. Yes, he had certainly been showing up for almost all his classes for a month straight now (thanks to a certain wavy haired girl sitting next to him at lunch every day, and also pulling him to the library during their shared free periods three times a week… and also insisting on religiously having a study group meeting every Wednesday after band practice, a meeting he’d stupidly proposed once because he wanted her to see him pretending to be a rockstar) but just showing up wasn’t even 50% of the grade. And Eddie wanted, no, needed to graduate in July. It was getting embarrassing to still be in high school as a soon to be 20 year old.

And now Jeff was leaving for Institute, West Virginia, and Dottie had an already punched ticket for Ann Arbor, Michigan since before he’d even met her, and Eddie felt… left behind. Gareth was gonna go to community college to become a great percussionist, Donny had his family business to get into after high school, and what did Eddie have? His stupid drug dealing gig that he was getting more and more uncomfortable handling the older he got, terrified of ending up in jail like his shitty Dad, and zero job prospects after graduation. He felt like he’d failed before he’d even had a chance to start. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice the cafeteria clearing out, his friends saying bye and hurrying to their next classes along with the rest of the Hawkins High students.

“Ed?” that gentle voice he adored so much reeled him back to Earth. “Everything okay?”

“Just peachy, darling,” he looked up at Dottie, standing next to him, her pastel folder clutched to her chest. “Aren’t you gonna be late for class?”

“No, I’ve got a few more minutes. I wanted to swing by the school newspaper club thingy before Spanish but I can stay with you if you aren’t feeling well.”

“I’m okay, I’ll walk you,” he stood up, grabbing his lunchbox and gesturing for her to lead the way. “Why are you going there, though?”

“Oh, they are looking for an extra editor and I thought it could be fun.”

“I think our definitions of fun are very different, Dot.”

“Shut up,” she chuckled. “I just wanna try stuff before high school is over, y’know? Get a little variety in.”

“Are we boring you? Is Hellfire not enough? Oh my god, are you dumping us?” Eddie said, clutching his chest, ever the drama queen.

“I could never dump you, you idiot,” she glanced at him with a shy smile on her lips and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. She turned towards him as they reached the school newspaper’s room. “I’ll see you at Gareth’s later, okay? We can work on that essay you were complaining about yesterday.”

“I’ll get the guys to play your song as payment,” he leaned next to the door, looking down at her.

“It’s a deal. Now go to class!”

Eddie watched her disappear into the room with a goofy grin on his face, an idea taking shape in his brain. You just gotta clean up your act, Chrissy’s voice rang in his head, clear as day. Help her out a little bit! And did Eddie have the perfect solution for all his problems right at his fingertips.

Dottie stood in front of a sweet looking girl she was fairly sure was in her AP Research class and a boy with glasses and a scar on his face, wringing her hands behind her back nervously. The girl was looking over the resume Dottie had thrown together the previous night, taking advantage of her Dad’s computer to make it look professional and serious.

“Why do you wanna be an editor?” the boy asked as the girl flipped to the second page.

“Ms. Kelly recommended it to me, actually,” Dottie said. “She knows one of my options in college is to major in English and mentioned you were looking for volunteers.”

“One of your options?” the girl lifted an eyebrow, looking at her once before going back to her resume.

“Yes, it’s either English or Elementary Education.”

“Well, your credentials are… excellent,” the girl smiled at Dottie. “We are in AP Research together and I know you get better grades than me. An A in English Literature also. Where are you going to college?”

“University of Michigan.”

“Impressive,” the curly haired girl returned the papers back to Dot’s hands. “Welcome to the team, I’m Nancy, this is Fred.”

“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you both. Congrats on Emerson!” she commented, noticing the shirt Nancy was wearing.

“Thanks! Come back after class and we’ll show you around.”

Donny was smoking under a ledge, shielding himself from the heavy rain while Dottie finished her little tour of The Weekly Streak’s room and met a few other students who were bustling around. Fred filled her in on her duties, which thankfully weren’t many: one of their editors had left to focus on his finals so now it was her responsibility to help edit and rewrite the stories submitted each week until they fit the high standards Nancy set for everyone as the newspaper’s editor-in-chief. As faith would have it, Nancy was Mike’s older sister and she was entirely too amused by the fact that Dottie was the girl that had caused her brother to spend an entire day pestering their mother for birthday gift ideas just a week ago. Once they were done with the show-and-tell, introductions had been made and a stack of papers had been shoved into Dottie’s hands, she said her goodbyes promising to bring back everything that had been assigned to her on Friday before lunch and hurried through the hallways to get to her very patient friend so they could pick up his bass and speed off to Gareth’s house.

Once they were settled in, Dottie, now sitting at her usual spot near the front, pulled out one of her textbooks to use as a hard surface and began to work through the unedited story stack, stopping every once in a while to watch her boys as they rocked the garage for all the neighbors to hear. Eddie was doing his best to distract her from her papers, and he was way too happy about the fact that he was succeeding more often than not; in her defense, she absolutely loved watching them perform and would gladly put her red pen down when her favorite long haired rockstar twirled around with his guitar, making faces and pointing at her when he wanted her to sing along. The last song they got to play before Gareth’s mom pulled up into the driveway was Hot Patootie from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the sole reason why they were now closing every Wednesday band practice with it, was that Dottie absolutely adored Rocky Horror. It was not a song they would have willingly played before, but Eddie kept making them practice it because it made her happy, and if the boys were being honest, they loved making their biggest fan happy. Especially because it meant that she’d be in a good mood going into their study session and would help her friends with their respective homework no matter how difficult the subject was without complaining once.

They were laying around in different parts of the living room, the radio turned on as background noise as they worked steadily through their pile of assignments. Gareth’s mom, happy to see the loud, rowdy teenagers she’d known for the past four years behave like contributing members of society, had brought them snacks to fuel their activities and retired to her bathroom to have a nice, long soak in the bathtub before her husband arrived from work. Donny was working on his Algebra worksheet at the dining table, Jeff and Gareth were going over the units for their Statistics final at the coffee table, and Dottie was on her final newspaper story on the floor next to Eddie who was currently suffering through an old English Literature assignment he had never completed.

“Fuckin’ shit,” he muttered, crossing out a sentence he had just written.

“What’s wrong?” Dottie asked, looking at his profile, his hair falling on his face as he laid on his stomach on the soft carpet. His eyelashes are so long, what the fuck.

“I can’t- I have no more words. Nothing is coming out anymore. I think I’ve used “therefore” at least three times in the same fucking paragraph,” he threw down his pen and rested his head on top of his arms.

“Come on, don’t give up yet. Let me see,” she pushed herself to a kneeling position and crawled towards him, dropping her weight so close to him that their shoulders were now touching.

Dottie read from his notebook carefully, snorting every once in a while when she found a sentence particularly funny or charming; he turned his head on his forearm, resting his cheek by his right wrist and watched her eyes move along the page, mesmerized. She lifted her gaze from the paper and smiled at him, before returning to his surprisingly legible handwriting.

“Okay, it’s not bad, but I think your paragraphs are out of order,” she said, grabbing his pen from the floor and drawing a few arrows on his notebook. “See, here, you talk about the symbolism in the buildings and make a connection with the importance of reputation, but you haven’t even established who the characters are yet, you do that in the next paragraph. You need to put this one first,” she drew a big number one on the margin next to the second blurb of text. “And here, in the third one, you argue that the story is about the duality of human nature but in the first paragraph you say that Jekyll was always evil, he just needed to let it out, which, fair enough, but if he was pure evil, then where’s the duality you talk about?”

“Can I just not use that sentence?” he watched her tap his pen to her lower lip, deep in thought.

“I mean, it’d be better to rework it but if you cut it out it wouldn’t be terrible. You’d still understand the rest.”

“And what about the million therefores?”

“Change this one-” she scribbled on the page. “-to “consequently”, and this one to “for this reason”. It’s not ideal but it should be alright.”

“Thank you, princess,” he said, lifting himself up on his arms to press a kiss to the right side of her forehead. “What would I do without you?”

“Get a D in English Lit?” she teased, a faint redness spreading through her cheeks.

Adorable, Eddie thought, for what was probably the millionth time since he’d met her. They kept working in silence, Dottie not making a move to get away from him, focused on the last sentences of the story she was checking for spelling mistakes. By now she’d read enough from reporter Mason Kaplan to know that he had atrocious spelling and she couldn’t, no, wouldn’t give his work back to Nancy with such egregious errors. Drawing a little happy face at the bottom of the paper to mark it as revised, she let herself drop to the floor completely and rolled to lay on her back, eyes closed and hair falling around her head like a halo, letting her shoulders and neck rest for a bit. The movement distracted Eddie, who turned his head to watch her tired expression melt into one of pure relaxation.

She sighed, exhausted, and he had the overwhelming need to kiss her closed eyelids, help her sink into a comfy nap in the safety of his arms. Instead, he twirled his pen in his hand in an attempt to control his own limbs from doing something stupid mere feet away from their friends. At this point in time, Eddie had to admit to himself that he didn’t entirely care if they noticed him following her around like a lap dog, but he wasn’t ready to face rejection just yet. His plan was barely in motion; he hadn’t made his moves, he hadn’t “cleaned up” like Chrissy had suggested yet.

“You’re staring,” Dottie whispered, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“How would you even know that, your eyes are closed,” he muttered back.

“Because I don’t hear you writing and I know you,” she turned to look at him, noticing his big, gentle brown eyes on hers. “You’ve been distracted all day.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“Would you…” he began, stopping to check that the other boys were too busy to overhear their conversation. “Can you help me with school?”

“Is that not what we’re doing with this study group thing?” she was confused.

“Yes, but, like… more?” he cringed at his own words. It was hard to think with her face so close to his. “I really, really, really want to graduate and I think I’m close this time but I’m so stupid I-”

“Don’t do that,” Dottie frowned.

“What?”

“Don’t call yourself stupid. You’re not. You’re so smart, Eddie, it’s infuriating.”

A beat passed with them looking at each other’s expressions; hers was frustrated, his was disbelieving. It occurred to Dottie that no one had ever bothered to praise him, at least certainly not in an academic setting, and she wondered if that was part of the reason he felt nothing he ever did was enough so he had just stopped trying. She felt words spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them, but truthfully, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hold them back this time. Not when he was staring at her like that.

“It’s actually upsetting how badly you think of yourself sometimes. Yeah, big deal, your grades suck but it’s because you don’t do the work, not because you can’t do it. I’ve literally gotten better at Calculus since I’ve started sitting next to you.”

“You had an A in Calc before you switched seats.”

“Yeah, and I used to cry while doing the worksheets before I had you to explain them to me. Why the fuck are there letters in my numbers?” he chuckled. “My point is that you are as smart as you are lazy.”

“Ouch,” he said, dramatically. At her pointed silence, he continued. “Look, I know that I’ve had plenty of opportunities and I blew them on my own, alright? And I really am grateful that you help me enough as it is but I was wondering if maybe you could, I don’t know, help me out for the finals? If I have to do senior year one more time, I’ll end up dropping out. I don’t wanna put my Uncle through that, I’m sure he’s embarrassed already, and it’s not like anyone will give me a job if I never graduate.”

He looked so dejected. Like he was carrying the world’s heaviest backpack and couldn’t afford to misstep now. Dottie’s heart broke for him and began running dates and numbers and bulleted lists in her head. She was going to make a study plan for him, and she was going to make sure he stuck to it no matter what. It was time someone showed him that he wasn’t doomed yet, that he could do this. She reached out a hand to his face, palm resting on his cheek and his eyes fluttered at the gentle gesture.

“You got this,” she said with such confidence that he couldn’t help but agree. “We are gonna figure out everything that you need to do to get your grades up, and we’re gonna work on that until finals week, okay? And you’re gonna come with me to the library on every free period and you’re going to actually do your work instead of watching me do mine while you doodle all over my books,” he smiled, knowing that she didn’t mind having his silly little drawings on the margins of her pages. “And we’re gonna get together every day after class and we’re gonna study. Three weeks, Eddie. Even on the weekends. I’m not gonna do your work for you.”

“I know. I don’t want you to do it for me, that’s not what I’m asking. I just kinda... need you there to tell me to do it.”

“Then I’ll do that for you. But you gotta promise you’re gonna listen to me, okay?”

“I always listen to you, darling,” he lifted his own hand to envelop hers, dragging it away from his face and pressing a kiss to her wrist.

“I’ll do everything you tell me to, I’m gonna pass all my exams and I’ll graduate and I’ll- I’ll fucking take you to prom. Hellfire Class of ‘86. I promise.”

“Good. Now finish your essay so we can go home before it starts hailing again,” she got up, heart racing and rosy cheeks, and quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

Three weeks. Eddie could pretend to be a fucking valedictorian candidate for three weeks if it meant he wouldn’t be disappointing her. And his Uncle, who had supported him all this time while he had been nothing but a piece of shit who refused to even crack open a textbook. May was his last chance. He could do this. He was gonna pass all his finals, deliver all the assignments he owed, turn 20, and get that goddamn diploma, or he’d die trying. And in all honesty, Eddie Munson had no desire to die just yet because there was a gorgeous girl that thought he was smart enough twirling around to a pop song on the radio in Gareth’s kitchen that he really wanted to kiss before his heart officially gave out.

taglist (let me know if you want me to add you!): @munsonology

[odetoviscera]

Liveblogging Mission: Impossible, I Guess

alright let’s start with FOR THE RECORD this is ENTIRELY the fault of @leupagus, who always does this to me, i swear to god i have been onboarded to more media by this villain (affectionate)’s posts than any other, so goddamnit it here we go MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE I GUESS

I GOT A PARAMOUNT+ SUBSCRIPTION FOR THIS AND BY GOD I’M GONNA BLOG ABOUT IT

warning: liveblogging below.

FIRST MOVIE. 1996. I AM SIX YEARS OLD. I DO NOT WATCH THIS FILM CONTEMPORANEOUSLY FOR OBVIOUS REASONS. i have a vague memory of watching it at some point in my teens, but remember almost nothing except a vague impression of like. A Claustrophobic Hallway. might not be from this movie. i’ll call it out if it’s real!

OH my god the paramount military drum roll is alternating left and right channel in my headphones. brain is flustered. inauspicious beginning.

(dead prostitute even less auspicious beginning.)

(undead prostitute/agent?)

ah I see they are spying on Russian Rocky Balboa and the (un)dead prostitute is a plant.

OH Tom Cruise is the cleaner, I was wondering why he wasn’t in the room with all the surveillance equipment. hang on, did MI INVENT the Suspiciously Lifelike Plastic Mask Gag? also yes that was the least horrific screengrab i could manage.

so undead prostitute and Mr. Cruise clearly have Chemistry. I do sort of wish undead prostitute’s first lines had not been in a ridiculous baby voice lol.

OPENING CREDITS. god, that was the logo? very b-average middle school powerpoint presentation. wait, tom cruise was a producer on this? on the FIRST one? damn, this really is the man’s anchor franchise.

these opening credits have TV Show vibes-- you know, “here’s a bunch of split-second clips of future episodes” except all for one movie. which is... oh right, movies used to be under 2 hours.

is this how we did movies on flights back in the day? a stewardess walks around with a tray of cassettes like she’s shilling the in-flight snacks??? nowadays to pull this stunt you’d have to have a coded conversation with a chatbot and convince it you know which squares contain stop signs before it would deliver your self-destructing message.

also the contrasting formality of codewords and passphrases and top-secret clearances and shit (displayed where any passing passenger could see it walking to the bathroom MY GUY WHERE IS YOUR OPSEC)-- paired with the Voice On The Radio calling mr. phelps JIM several times is kind of wild. everything is simultaneously deadly serious national security threat and “two dads discussing their respective divorces at a barbeque”. also i can’t tell them apart yet and their hair is too similar, which of these lady agents is undead prostitute and is it claire, jim’s wife (which, btw, seems like a conflict of interest) bc if so the divorce thing may be more literal, tom “ethan hunt” cruise was getting pretty soft-boy handsy with her face

mid-briefing YEP UNDEAD PROSTITUTE IS THE WIFE, also in person it’s very clear how much younger she is than jim, wonder how that relationship came about. also also SEEDS OF SUSPICION sown about why jim is always swanning off on “recruiting assignments” and the team doesn’t know where he is during these times. also maybe i’m paranoid I DID READ THE POSTS @leupagus

"if they're exposed, they'll be executed." bit of a buzzkill there jim

so much intra-team flirting! you’d think that would be counter-regulations but i guess jim is married to one of his operatives so the rules must be pretty lax lol

okay no mr. hacker/the team q making ethan a stick of EXPLOSIVE GUM when ethan has been chewing gum this ENTIRE set of scenes during the planning of the op-- that is a piss-take, lol. that is a loving piss-take. this is “here you dumb bastard i made something in your colour” energy. JUST DON’T CHEW IT. i’m love them. i know they die and i will be upset about it.

the first-person perspective is fascinating film-making. (obviously i, obsessive video game nerd, am making immediate parallels to video games that won’t come out for another half decade or so, lol.) this feels so disjointed and claustrophobic, though-- it’s a narrower FOV than you usually see in a first-person perspective, and we don’t have any of his peripheral vision. being trapped in ethan’s head (or more correctly, i suppose, in the camera on his glasses) seeing only what’s in his field of vision for these scenes is making me overanalyze everything lol. i feel like half the guests are staring at him.

oop, meanwhile jack is fighting elevators. i worry for my boy. i have known him five minutes. i should not have learned he had a name other than “mr. hacker” now i’m invested.

dslkfhas;ldkfhas;lkh stop roasting him ethan he’s in an elevator shaft! on a 1996 laptop!

elevator/spy tetris

oh my god this mark had a FLOPPY DISK on his person. the 90s were insane.

The Flirting Continues

ah, the classic Lover’s Embrace Distraction. kind of interesting to see this done with sarah, who is NOT ethan's flirtatious love interest (that's claire; sarah has something maybe going somewhere someday with jack, hypothetically) honestly it kind of reinforces that this is very much just an "it's part of my day job" move for them, i like it. and they both move into it very fluidly, without discussion or hesitation-- it's a standard play.

oh noooo jack. “i don’t have control” says jim, man who just had control. HMM I HAVE DOUBTS YOU ASSHOLE. :(((

…hang on, is the drunk laughing couple the pair i clocked staring at ethan earlier in the night or am i hallucinating bc i can’t tell actors apart

ooooh, ethan’s going off book. admittedly the book is bad but still, bad form.

“they’re covering this frequency, cut all radio communication” mmkay except what’s your evidence of that, bc we’ve seen nothing to indicate that’s the case-- jack was killed where he was supposed to be during the whole op, and you could have been spotted and shadowed from the safehouse. none of that had to be gleaned from radio communications

Convenient Les Miz River Death. also the angle on that gun ethan saw in his little camera watch was pretty sus, but he's under a lot of stress, so i won't hold it against him for not noticing.

ethan, babe, how you gonna call an abort right after ignoring an abort, of course she’s not listening to you. (however, heartbreaking: the tiny little “god!” when he takes off running back to sarah. guy is having the worst night of his life and it’s just getting started.)

WELL THERE GOES CLAIRE AND HANNAH

sarah's still following the mark so i assume she was too far away to hear that. and i KNEW there was something shifty with the drunk couple

damn the mark is getting got too. aaaand finally sarah. full house.

EVERYBODY got fucked on this op

kdfjal;skdhf;lakh god idk if i’m even supposed to trust the nice calm voice on the phone (Kittridge) like my dude ethan is focused on relaying the vital intel (little bit of shouting but the circumstances are, admittedly, DIRE AS FUCK) and you’re using your soothing kindergarten voice.

“one hour, i’ll be there myself” BITCH? HOW? YES ETHAN EXACTLY THE FUCK, WHY IS THIS GUY IN PRAGUE??? SUSPICIONS RAISED AGAIN

aquarium diner is kind of out of place/distinctive here. like, cool location, but damn, not what i’d call inconspicuous. 

i think the shock is setting in, ethan’s walking like he’s half-dead already and so far the worst that’s happened to him physically is Running A Lot.

oooh, ethan spotted something. OH OKAY the drunk pair and the embassy pair were two differently suspicious pairs lol.

extreme dutch angle on kittridge. spooky boy. not the first dutch angle we've seen so far, even in this scene, but definitely the one i've noticed the most.

oof. whole team died for Nothing. ethan’s resistance to aborting the mission was AT LEAST partly predicated on the threat that had been presented-- literally dozens, if not hundreds, of lives directly in the crosshairs if that list got out. and it’s fucking. Nothing. and as far as ethan can possibly know at this point, the only reason the WHOLE team got wiped out is that he ignored the abort. sarah, at least, he could have hypothetically saved by keeping her with him instead of sending her after the mark.

“dying slowly in america, after all, can be a very expensive proposition.” BITCH. MURDER HIM ETHAN. SET THIS WHOLE PLACE ON FIRE. anyway, this was in 1996, nice to see capitalism hasn’t improved at all in nearly thirty years. doing great. oh the explosive gum, YES BABE, jack’s last gift to you! blow a bitch up!

“kittridge, you’ve never seen me very upset” ooooh the VENOM. ethan has been kind of a kitten so far-- soft boy, very few stunts actually! kind of a jokes boy! he’s a PERFORMANCE ARTIST, his role has been Wear The Mask and play a specific part. he is, in leverage terms, the SOPHIE, not the eliot. we have not actually seen a SINGLE instance of real violence from him yet-- even taking out Russian Rocky Balboa was with a drugged drink that sarah delivered.

alright admittedly blowing up the aquarium was probably the better move but i would have liked to see kittridge get it in the face

also holy FUCK ethan can run

now here's a logistical question: does this count as an Ethan Stunt? bc so far he hasn't done any of the characteristic No One Else Would Do This shit that is famously his hallmark. i don't think this does count, honestly-- it's fairly low stakes by the standards of an Ethan Stunt, and although obviously the fish are gonna be upset about it, the overall risk to ethan himself is not high. worst case scenario if he couldn't outrun the flood was getting arrested. i'm gonna call this Typical Spy Nonsense unless someone can convince me otherwise.

listen i know all this counter-espionage shit like crunching the lightbulb to make a broken glass noise trap and unscrewing the hall light is shit he was taught in Spy School however i would like to forward that my IMMEDIATE thought whenever he does something clever is just OH MY BOY IS SO SMART

i have trauma-bonded with ethan hunt. it took exactly half an hour. goddamn it, i get it now @leupagus

And Now He Has A Gun, let’s see if he uses it.

okay the emergency money not being in the safehouse is another dick move by jim.

job 314… job 3:14?

OH MY GOD IT IS

seriously is this what the internet was like in 1996. i was an aol kid, i missed the usenet era, but i also don’t trust hollywood to know what the internet was like lol

MY BOY IS SO SMART

although doing all this in what must be the compromised safe house maybe is less so

here begin the PTSD Nightmares

oh shit! claire’s not dead! alright maybe the gun wasn’t such a great addition to the inventory lol although i’ll given ethan points for what looks, to my very untrained eyes, like a pretty solid firing posture. maybe got his elbows locked a little but he’s Stressed.

the Aggressively Sexual Frisking i could do without. very 90s though lol, and i will forgive ethan’s behaviour bc he’s having a Very bad night and claire’s shock isn’t helping with his justifiable paranoia. STILL. BE BETTER.

claire still using that baby voice. ma’am please speak with your whole chest, you sound like a toddler, i can’t take you seriously.

Spy Shenanigans ahead. back in ethan’s limited POV for a bit! i like the framing on the pickup car responding to the match.

ooh, max is a maxine.

dutch angle on max. they like that technique a lot. and a very tight framing. 

fkjha;djfh;lksh MA’AM. you haven’t even CLEANED THE BLOOD OFF, you’re gonna gunk up your disk reader

imf sure is efficient-- okay no i love the cleaning lady just “fuck it, i keep vacuuming”

Fucking Kittridge. this man has the most smarmy affect upon this earth outside of an actual british butler in a murder mystery. also what looks like an extremely fake tan. hate his guts. wish him death.

ethan has been 100% Manic Grin at max since the mask came off and i am not sure how much of that is a front and how much is ethan running at 100% capacity on 10% fuel. let this man have a nap.

lol max likes him. he’s Charmed her. “aggressive, but playful” is her type lol.

god are claire and ethan STILL staying in the safehouse? i mean I GUESS at this point imf must not know the location but this still seems dicey.

i get the impression claire actually loved jim, which makes this whole setup Wild. The Chemistry is there with her and ethan, but clearly nothing has actually come of it at this point, and if/when it does, it will be totally justifiable bc she is, to her knowledge, A WIDOW. really played yourself there, jimbo.

oooh, they’re gonna hook up with other disavowed ex-spies. …however, i will observe that it seems ULTRA FUCKING STUPID to keep a list of the people you’ve explicitly decided to cut ties with??? isn’t the point of disavowing/burning an agent that they can’t be legally tied to your organization? imf competency varying wildly lol

damn, they’re getting fucking leon on the team lol. hang on i have to google something-- yes, leon: the professional came out two years before mission impossible, this joke works.

ethan as mission planner is Much ballsier than he was as a point man/Face lol

oh my god luther’s Hacker Names lol

luther the fact that you know this much about the system already suggests you’ve thought about it lol

ethan: i’m hiring you for an impossible job the team: no such thing ethan:  Let Me Explain

luther looks like his hopes and dreams are crashing down around his ears during this security breakdown lol

Theme Music!

we love an Emergency Services Scam. big bulky costume and everybody’s in too much of a panic to think too clearly.

oop, krieger’s a loose cannon, lol. (leon!) guess ethan is still hoping to get his job back, doesn’t want to Kill Coworkers. understandable. holding out hope for an exception being made for kittridge.

i wondered if this vent crawl might count as the first proper Ethan Stunt, but krieger’s doing it with him, so i think it’s still on the side of “a comparatively sane operative would do this”.

sidebar, tom cruise in this glasses headset getup is giving me farscape john crichton vibes, which is baffling given john crichton does not wear glasses.

oh we TRAP the laser instead of turning it off. Clever.

krieger sneeze into your ELBOW my guy.

and this is the iconic Hanging From The Ceiling Scene! oh holy shit i didn’t realize krieger was there to HOLD ETHAN’S BODY WEIGHT, damn.

excellent treatment of the tension with the silent shot and only luther’s whispered warnings. ethan is remaining REMARKABLY phlegmatic.

holy shit this guy would be the most annoying officemate. i mean i know he’s been poisoned but still. get thee to a cubicle nowhere near me.

that flip! my boy is BALLETIC

OOOOH NO WHY ARE THERE MICE IN THE VENTS OF THIS SUPER SECURE AGENCY. MOUSE THEY GOT LASERS HERE WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING

df;lakddf;laklsh;lk aaaand the slip

excellent handling of the tension again

legit how did ethan get his hand into position for this catch with so little space

KRIEGER YOU DUMB BITCH SECURE YOUR KNIFE

and now there actually is an evacuation! lol. back to the safehouse.

krieger is gonna be a problem if you don’t communicate, ethan. ah, yes, and here we see him proving me right. we know a bastard when we see one.

MY BOY. IS SO. SMART.

i’ll be surprised if we keep working with krieger lol he doesn’t seem like he takes an insult well

OH HO. DRAKE HOTEL IN THE GIDEON BIBLE. the penny drops.

oh, i think ethan’s suspicious of claire again. jim’s wife, after all.

oop! kiss! but is it legit or is it to throw him off his game?

man, no one play poker with ethan hunt.

“i’m not gonna let this get out in the open.” luther for best boy

oh my god kittridge you fuckwit

seriously ethan do a murder you’ve earned it

holy shit is that jim in the phone booth next to ethan???

IT IS

blaming kittridge. couldn’t throw a nicer asshole under the bus, lol

oh excellent touch with ethan envisioning it with the knowledge that it’s actually jim. doesn’t fall for it for a second, but plays along, and lets the audience in on it. we get to see exactly how smart ethan is, without a doubt, but jim doesn’t get clued in. smart, smart movie.

oh shit! krieger was the assassin on the op! i missed that completely

and now ethan's debating claire’s involvement with himself.

my poor boy looks like he’s gonna have a breakdown right here at the table

“you got a lousy marriage and 62 grand a year” first of all, bitch, your wife is extravagantly attractive and doesn’t seem to be an idiot or an asshole, your marriage is probably fine; second of all, in the year of any lord 2023, NEVERMIND in 1996 money, i would kill for 62 grand a year. shut the fuck up.

okay, jim keeping the secret from claire PROBABLY clears her

love ethan continuing to write to max with bible verses bc she thought it was fun the first time lol

tasteful fade to black lol

honestly why are they bothering with having the shade pulled down to hide jim’s face lol

dlfkahsd;lkfhas;lk max enjoys ethan SO MUCH lol. i am undecided on whether she wants him carnally but i suspect she wouldn’t complain if he suggested it

oh no! overly helpful train attendant gave the game away!

oooh, max is playing both sides. unsurprising lol

i’m here for claire’s Itty Bitty Skirt.

oh shit! she DOES know about jim! damn it claire, i believed in you! fortunately ethan is more suspicious than me lol

“having tasted the goods” fucking classy, jim

eyyyy! foiled by the camera glasses! can’t believe i have to be team kittridge. offensive.

well, there goes claire. and ethan still isn’t quite at full Action Man, so he gets the shit knocked out of him.

okay i think ethan climbing the back of a bullet train with no assistive devices is his actual first Ethan Stunt. this is where this shit starts to get beyond “spy shenanigans” and into “i have no time to plan and no one else to rely on, so my improvisation is the WILDEST SHIT YOU’VE EVER IMAGINED”

fkha;ldkfha;lskhdl;kh he never did actually use that gun outside of pointing it at claire Once or perform any other acts of violence, so ethan’s first confirmed attempted murder is tying a helicopter to a train to fuck kreiger. of course.

the gum again! ethan did jack give you a whole PACK of that. also i’d like to point out that, while the circumstances are certainly warranting it-- he hasn’t got his hands free, he’s holding on to a helicopter-- when jack first presents ethan with the explosive gum, ethan handles it like it is a Very Delicate Grenade, and now he’s pulling it out of the packaging with his teeth. we are definitely past ethan caring much about his personal safety.

ethan legit came like. two inches from death.

wonder if luther’s gonna get reinstated for his part in this stunt

sounds like yes!

aaaand the chatbot stewardess is back and not taking no for an answer. guess ethan doesn't get to retire after all.

-----

ALRIGHT. LIVEBLOG COMPLETE. Claustrophobic Hallway never appeared, although there was a generally claustrophobic feeling to the whole film due to the very tight shots sometimes. i was haunted by the vague sense that i should know more about this movie than i did, lol.

in summary: ethan hunt is such a good boy and he is having SUCH A BAD TIME. literally at the end of his harrowing revenge/name-clearing adventure he just gets on a plane to england-- maybe back to those london apartments he liked? seems like it would have bad memories now, which has some interesting implications for how ethan deals with his traumas, namely “go roll around in them for a while and see if they start to feel comfortable instead of horrifying”. he’s so disillusioned with the whole pack of them that the tells luther he can’t imagine why he’d be doing it if he went back, and promises to remember luther as “disreputable”.

something i noticed while going back to get some screengrabs to illustrate a few of these points-- in the team briefing, the whole team is never framed together around the table. in fact, i believe this is the only time we’ll even see them all in the same frame. in the opening shots, sarah is on the other side of the room, pulling the shade down. claire is sitting next to ethan, and ALWAYS finds a way to be very close to ethan outside of the actual operations, which leads me to wonder how much of the Chemistry™ was being manufactured even this early on (and, by extension, earlier than the film shows us.) also poor hannah gets almost no job on this op and almost no characterization in this movie. they could have cut her out entirely and nothing would have been lost.

also in retrospect there were more clues about claire’s culpability-- she tells ethan later (during the Aggressively Sexual Frisking) that she walked away when the abort was called, but we SAW HER sitting in the car, watching ethan speedwalk past her with a frown, after she said she had already complied with that order. ethan says this when he's holding her at gunpoint, and she never actually produces a compelling explanation, she just kind of hustles us all past that by getting teary-eyed! excellent manipulation! she already knew the plan at that point, and presumably if ethan had complied with the command to abort the mission, he would have been somewhere else that claire and jim had predicted he’d be for their frame job to work. possibly claire’s Wiles would have come into things at some point there, instead of the 4am Frisk that ended up happening.

also also not to be "ethan hunt is feminine-coded" on main, but ethan hunt has quite a few Cinematically Feminine traits, especially in this action spy genre. he is the subject of violence, not the performer of it. he runs AWAY from confrontations instead of engaging them. his most successful grifts are Conversations and Disguises, and he mostly uses those tools to de-escalate. claire tells him how many bullets he has for his TWO GUNS at one point, and he never fires a single one. he is blind-folded, taken to the villain's lair, charms the villain with his good looks and witty banter. his one moment of really Macho Aggression is in a panic after a PTSD nightmare, is ultimately defused, and never recurs. will be interested to see how this develops in further films.

10/10, if ethan hunt was a dog he would be a border collie.

[tin-wufborf]

Am I the only one who thinks the Argents are a fucking joke of a hunting family?

I have never understood the boogeyman-esque fear that exists around any single member of the Argent family, except for maybe Gerard, but even then, only a little bit (I don’t understand fearing the elderly, like, at all). Like, our first introduction to this dumbass fucking family is Chris Argent and his Unnamed Goons running around the forest at night and shooting random shapes in the night. Dude had no actual proof that he was shooting at a werewolf when he shot Scott in the arm because (and believe me, I checked) he did not have any sort of night vision or even a fucking scope before he was just out there, letting crossbow bolts fly.

Also, what fucking dweeb uses a goddamned crossbow to hunt something like a fucking werewolf? Are you looking to die, Chris? Do you want that werewolf to become extra pissed off and just rush your dumb ass before mauling you to death? You have wolfsbane laced bullets, Christopher, and it’s been established that there are different strains with varying levels of lethality. If you feel confident enough to shoot at a random person in the dark with a crossbow to presumably steal them away for “questioning”, you should feel confident enough to shoot them with a bullet because that would at least prevent them from getting the jump on your mundane ass when you do send your lackeys to go “take him” if that person really does turn out to be a werewolf. Because it’s pretty obvious that, once you pull that fucking bolt out, these fuckers are healing and well enough to at least flee, but I don’t think that’s an entirely realistic outcome. Trust, if I were a werewolf and some dumb fucking bitch shot me in the arm with an arrow while I was busy minding my own business, getting into a useless fight with the only other werewolf I knew, I’d be foaming at the mouth trying to tear that fucker to shreds. I would become the monster that hunters are so sure every werewolf is in, like, 0.05 seconds flat. Like, how dare you? I am a creature of the fucking night, and you hit me with an ouchie stick. Now I’m fucking annoyed. I’m about to ruin your night, at the least, and fucking murder you, at the most.

And don’t get me started on Kate Argent. First of all, that fucking cunt didn’t even have to open her mouth for me to know that something was seriously off in her head. Our first introduction to her, she’s rolling into town in what is probably the least helpful vehicle to a hunter, a Kia Soul, and is applying an ungodly amount of lip gloss. Ma’am, it is 2 AM, who the fuck are you applying this whore gloss for? Your brother? Because I wouldn’t put incest past you. No one but you is lookin’ at them thin ass lips. I’m all for looking pretty for yourself, but not at 2 AM after what was probably several fucking hours of a road trip. No one has ever cared that much, but this psycho is out here in her lime-green toaster with an unsecured shotgun shoved between the seats and slicking them nasty lie-flaps down with KY. She is obviously a fucking problem.

Side note, I am the previous owner of a Kia Soul, and I loved that little black square of aerodynamics-defying scrap metal, but let me tell you, it would not have been my chosen vehicle of choice if my number one enemy was a fucking werewolf. The wind was enough of an issue for me. If something like Peter’s Alpha form hopped onto my Kia Soul, it would have caved the roof and sent me into a ditch because those things operate at such a specific stasis of balance and motion that if you upset it in the slightest, you’d for sure crash and die. And also, the engine ran on a hope and dream. I lived my life in the slow lane with that car. There’s no chasing down Camaros with a Kia Soul. That was the singlemost unbelievable thing I ever saw happening in Teen Wolf. But I digress.

But back to Kate Argent’s general life as a fucking dumbass monster: I fully believe that that dumb bitch just got lucky with the fire. Let’s be honest, Kate’s plan was not that of a mastermind. Sure, she put in an inordinate amount of background work to get it done, but she really, really, really did not need to. Ya’ll think I’m joking about this but remember: Kate went to a chemistry teacher to find out how to make an untraceable fire, but the dumb bitch turned around and hired historied arsonists to pull off the fire and then paid off the insurance inspector anyways (I also assume she paid off the arson investigator as well, because that’s who actually makes those sorts of calls, not insurance companies). Why even bother racking up that number of co-conspirators and loose ends when she could have just done everything herself without repercussion because no one would have suspected her otherwise? She could have spoken to no one beforehand, surrounded the house in mountain ash, threw down some gas, lit the bitch up, and then still paid off the investigator? Also, how dumb can you be not to go back and kill the comatose survivor of your murder plot? Even if the idea was to use other people just in case one the Hales managed to get out and take action, she could have avoided that entirely by doing what she could to remove her own sent, buy and wear a layer of brand new clothes from any clothing store, and then put on a layer of Derek’s clothes so they’d just think it was him instead of a mass-murdering bigot. Kate Argent may be a raging narcissist and rapist, but she’s no genius, and she’s hardly anything to be afraid of. She spends too much time patting herself on the back for the one thing she ever succeeded at to be a real threat to anyone. Personally, even as a werewolf, I’d have stolen a gun from someone and used it to shoot that overconfident bitch right in her fucking face and then left her in the woods to be torn apart by wildlife. She didn’t deserve a funeral or to even be known for her crimes. That wasn’t justice. She should have died alone, never been found, and never be given credit for what she feels is her One Great Deed in life. It’s like how so many school shooters and serial killers just want to go down in infamy. Take away their recognition, and they’ve then achieved nothing. They’re just as fucking useless as they were before because no one should give them the satisfaction of being known for their crimes.

And Gerard Argent. Oh, this fucking man, I hate him so goddamned much. I feel like everyone spent all of season 2 just conveniently forgetting the fact that he was about a million years old and that he was super duper fucking sick. Like, you could probably have poked him in the side too hard and he would have died. In fact, how about instead of Scott betraying everyone’s fucking trust to pull off what ultimately was a failed plan, he could have just took dude’s meds period and let the pain medication he must have been taking wear off, and then we could have disappeared that fool. He was a sick old man! What is scary about that?! I felt like I was taking crazy pills the whole time I watched season 2 because why the fuck are we out here being afraid of an old as fuck crazy person who is presumably chock-full of tumors and only existing because he's pilled up all the time? And why are we acting like murdering this guy specifically would have made us into bad guys ourselves? Gerard Argent had all of the potential to become the werewolf hunting version of Hitler, which is what he basically did in the end, I assume (idak given that I quit the show after the first half of season 5 and only know what happened afterwards because I have the internet and can read a synopsis). This is like that dumbass moral question of “if you could go back and time and kill baby Hitler, would you” because the answer to that question should be yes. Yes, I would murder baby Adolf if it meant potentially avoiding the absolute insane number of senseless deaths that occurred during Hitler’s reign, and honestly? I’m judging you if your answer would be anything else. Gerard Argent at the start of season 2 is baby Hitler, and if someone had just had the fucking balls to slit that fucker’s throat when they had the chance, he wouldn’t have been able to come back and amass a fucking army of hunters to attempt that level of murder. I’m not even going to get into just how stupid and fucking dangerous Scott’s plan was because it had the potential to backfire exponentially if Gerard had so much as looked at his pills beforehand, but fuck man. Why are we acting like it would have been the worst act committed to just kill that fucking guy and be done with it?

And like, on the Argents as a whole, give me one example of a time when these fools are any more or less dangerous than the average human being. There’s a reason they’re just called hunters and not supreme-being freedom fighters or some shit. They’re not any more extraordinary that a man who chooses to hunt deer except that what these fuckers hunt are people, plain and simple. Everything they do is well within the realms of human capability and most of their tactics are based on pre-existing hunting and/or military tactics that have been used by humans since time immemorial; the only difference is, when humans do this sort of shit to each other, we call them murderers and/or evil. Or, you know, the government.

The point is, people need to stop buying into the idea that the Argent family is (or, I guess was) some great hunting family as opposed to the borderline bumbling idiots they actually are. They’re too fueled by their own emotions and personal vendettas to be precise enough to hunt down a bunch of children in the woods, and they’re not nearly well-trained enough to boot. I mean, it’s like I said. They are out here constantly getting thwarted by a bunch of teenagers whose primary skills are Google and “hope for the best”. I mean, think about that. The whole Teen Wolf gang is out here flying by the seat of their pants and just Googling the shit out of things whenever something unknown comes up, and they have managed to thwart the schemes of the OG hunting family. And if the Argents are supposed to be the best, then my god, what does the worst hunter look like? Because Sam and Dean managed to fucking decimate the supernatural community with a handful of allies and about a thousand active warrants for their arrest, but they weren’t out there acting like god himself couldn’t fucking touch them (the irony of this statement, lol) or like they were guaranteed to survive or even be correct about every situation. While it’s a pretty well-known fact that Sam and Dean Winchester are just two overgrown serial killers, they at least have moments throughout that show’s run where this 1) becomes apparent to them, 2) gives them at least a brief moment of pause and 3) opens them up to actually helping the creatures the hunt from time to time instead of standing behind some bland fucking moral code like that somehow magically undoes all the active murder they were doing. Not the Argents. These fuckers hide behind that code and just outright ignore their very obvious instances of wrongdoing as if they have the fucking right. Fuck the Argents, fuck hunters, and fuck this blandly moral shit that stopped everyone from just handling the problem when they could and should have.

[sidecharactersdomatter]

This gets rambly but I swear it's relevant to your Disenchanted rewrite. Disenchanted was not a good follow-up to the first film. It just lacked the magic the original film had and did their characters a disservice. This is why I'm always wary when I hear a sequel is being made because I have to ask "Are they expanding on any plots or arcs that were present in the first film in any meaningful way" and if not then it's probably gonna be some unnecessary additions and a poorly executed story. Which is upsetting because it can and has been done well in the hands of writers who know and care about their characters. So I guess what I'm trying to ask is what are some story elements from Enchanted you are hoping to elaborate or improve on in your rewrite?

No I don’t think you ask is rambly at all. The reason I’m writing The fairytale of my life is because I was so pissed off by how Out of character Giselle, Robert, and Morgan were portrayed in the sequel I felt like metaphorically vomiting and got rid of my Disney plus app. Since Disenchanted was released on Plus and the sneak peek clips on YouTube ended up killing the hype, this move never stood a chance with the Rotten Tomatoes critics, by offending the audience who grew up watching the first movie and accomplishing absolutely nothing. Nobody on the writing team understood the assignment, and when it was announced that Kevin Lima wasn’t going to work on the sequel, that’s when you know something’s gonna go wrong. You’ll definitely see me type ‘Nothing happens’ when I answer more questions on why Disenchanted and as my break down my to do list.

A few elements that I will improve on in my rewrite are:

Adding a sense of realism, to make the story and characters feel grounded and relatable. Disenchanted completely tossed out their realism and it ended up getting overweighted by the Fantasy aspect like an unbalanced measuring scale. That’s why Tftoml is fully operating on Studio Ghibli logic since it’s films are masters at weaving in realism.

Keeping the main cast consistent, especially Morgan, Robert, and Giselle. That’s why I changed Morgan’s character entirely to make her the main protagonist of my fic to make her more likable since her portrayal in Disenchanted offended and disappointed a lot of teen viewers. It’s a good thing I gave 6 year old Sofie a purpose in my fic as well and her personality is supposed to be a blend of her parents. Robert also ends up acting like a better parent in Tftoml since I gave him a more better character arc, related to his place in his family, since the whole ‘middle aged dad gets a mid life crisis’ is a cliche trope that has been done to death in animation. Spoilers for Tftoml, he doesn’t commute to work but he got transferred to work in his new hometown. Giselle’s character also gets drastically changed since she’s the deuteragonist of Tftoml because Oh my God she suffered from main character syndrome and flanderization from completely forgetting her development in the first film. Spoilers for tftoml She doesn’t want to have the whole dumb ‘fairy tale life’ but her goal is actually related to her new family, trying to be a good mother, a theme the sequel failed to deliver is that “family isn’t defined through blood, but through love” and that’s a message I’m using for my fic.

Finally having the main theme of Emotional maturity. Giselle especially learned this in Enchanted when went from being a Disney Princess archetype to a multi dimensional humanized character. This is a theme that I’m going to have Morgan learn, since unlike the sequel, The fairytale of my life is going to be a Coming of age. A few main lessons I’m going to try and show are, Not every family is going to be perfect, (you all don’t know that the Philips are functional in my fic right now) Not every parent is going to be perfect, not every mother is going to be perfect (Giselle is going to be a good example of this in Tftoml) and the then of accepting change. Some serious topics that will be shown are Childhood trauma, Low self worth/esteem (Both will definitely be shown through Morgan) Toxic femininity and positivity (Which Giselle will embody in my fic), dysfunctional family relationships, and accepting your loved ones for who they are. I’m trying so hard to not be too ambitious.

That’s all I got for an answer and I’m going to stop answering any asks for my fic right now since I’m going to be busy at the start of this month working on chapters 2-3 and I promise I’ll update next post.

[redheadjustin]

Can I get a fic of Adam from Mighty Morphing Power rangers (Black ranger) nervously introducing his boyfriend to the group cause he’s only recently discovered he’s bi

You watch Adam pace the floor of the youth center with an amused smile. Adam was always the one to show his emotions on his sleeve. It was part of his charm. You stood up from your bar stool and moved behind Adam and wrapped your arms around Adam’s waist. “Babe, It’ll be alright. I promise. I’ve known Kim and Billy since diapers. If they don’t accept us then they can find a new black ranger.” You said as you kissed your boyfriend’s cheek. The smile that lit up Adam’s face warmed your heart. You knew how big a deal this was for him. Adam had JUST figured out he was bisexaul and he wanted you to meet the other rangers. Yes, you know about Adam being the black ranger. You were told by Zordon himself.

It was a week or two after Adam met you. And you had Adam all out of sorts. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and your soft, S/C skin, your H/L H/S H/C hair and of course, your beautiful E/C eyes. It was cliche but It was love at first sight. But, with his obsession on you his work in the field got sloppy and everyone noticed. Tommy informed Zordon about Adam’s decline and the wizard told the white ranger that he would speak to Adam. And when Zordon discovered that Adam fell in love with one of the original candidates to be a ranger. It was in the two weeks between Meeting Adam and being told about the rangers that you fell in love with Adam. You never met a kinder boy and you were smitten from the start.

You went to kiss Adam when you heard a familiar laugh. You knew it was Kim’s. She had been your friend since you could remember. So had Jason, Billy, Zach and Trini. You weren't surprised to know they had been and or are Power Rangers. Though you were upset about them not telling you. You were just happy your friends weren’t doing drugs or something dumb. You smiled at Adam's pout. “Don’t worry, my love. Once we tell them you’ll get as many kisses as you wish.” You told the black ranger and you knew you had to fulfill your promise as the smile the master of the lion thunderzord sent you.

“Tell us what?” Kim asked as the group stepped close to you. You couldn’t help but laugh as the pink ranger put her hands on her hips. You were reminded why you never could keep a secret from her. “Uh, well, I got big, Uh, news and I’m very excited to tell you guys but, uh, very um nervous about how you’ll react.” Oh Adam. You chuckle at how your boyfriend rambled on. “Oh, Adam. You know we care about you no matter what.” Kim said as she placed her hand on Adam’s cheek. You looked at your boyfriend telling him that he can do the honors. “Um, Well me and Y/N are dating and I’m bixsexaul.” You smiled as the entire group, except Tommy, Engulfed Adam into a hug. As Tommy stood next to you, you failed to notice Bulk and Skull behind you.

“If Adam gives you any trouble you tell me.” The white ranger said as the group hug broke up. You went to speak when you heard Bulk’s annoying ass voice. “I Always knew Y/N and Adam were fags.” You heard the overweight Teen say to his friend as they walked by enjoying the glares from the rangers. “Next time let the putties beat them senseless? What? Oh, I know you guys are power rangers. Tacos anyone?” You said with a smirk. Oh yes, the Rangers loved Adam’s new boyfriend.

[phoenixyfriend]

More of "Obi-Wan Declares Himself Dad-Shaped"

(With help from @atagotiak​, see original post here)

One of the fun elements of this AU is that timey-wimey Anakin is now physically more or less the same age as original-timeline Obi-Wan.

I want to imagine they run into each other and Anakin is, despite having his own dad-shaped Obi-Wan, very upset that this younger Obi-Wan doesn't know him at all, and is thus very bitchy and petty. Teen Obi-Wan has no idea what he did to piss this guy off so bad.

(He’s probably a lil bitchy back, which would upset Anakin more.)

(It’s not the normal fond/exasperated kind of bitchy Obi-Wan’s supposed to be like, this is a travesty.)

Ahsoka off to the side like "My brother's dumb."

Ben is just off actually doing real work after tricking “technically a stranger, but a fellow Jedi, so we trust you” Qui-Gon into babysitting duty.

Tiny Feral Jetii Manda Togruta Girl comes up and tugs on Obi's robes and tells him that her brother wants to be his friend, he's just dumb about saying stuff like that, go ask him about speeders.

ALSO I want to say Shmi is like... five years older than Obi-Wan? Maybe eighteen when they arrive, which is three years before Anakin is born. So one day the fam begs off from Mandalorian space for a few days (weeks?) and goes to Tatooine to Find Mom, who is not yet a mom, but Anakin's crying on her anyway.

"Prior to my claiming him as my own child, Anakin was a Skywalker. The Force told us to come and find you, and I imagine your name is why." One of these sentences is true.

Tia asked:

Do the true mandos go to galidraan or avoid the planet entirely? Like if that trap doesn’t take there’s just gonna be another and this would help to communicate and stuff.

I’m just imagining like. The confrontation is a lot calmer, but there is what appears to be a random Jedi youngling that attempts to kill Dooku

“Why are your kids just radiating hostility at me specifically?”

To which I say: Ben negotiates with the Jedi while Fett "negotiates" with Viszla.

When the Jedi ask Ben things like "who are you" and "you're clearly a Jedi, why are you with these guys" and "why do none of us know you when you're obviously a Master" and he just pulls a page from Qui-Gon's book and tells them The Force Willed It and everyone hates that answer because the Force is confirming it.

I feel like Anakin radiates hostility while Ahsoka is trying to see if she can look so gosh-darn cute that people miss out on the fact that she's picking their pockets.

(She’s very good at it, to Ben’s eternal exasperation.)

It's a pity Anakin already has three-hundred-and-fifty-two conflicting feelings about Obi-Wan's general existence, or else they might have gotten along like a house on fire.

I need you to imagine Anakin just picking Ahsoka up and pulling her away from someone while hissing.

Also lots of Kenobi-specific "I have raised this boy for over a decade" no-thinking-needed motions for Ben, where he doesn't look up from a datapad to grab the neck of Anakin's robes as he tries to throw himself headfirst into a fight with someone three times his size.

Anakin would win, but the ensuing drama as people complained about losing to a tween would be a pain to deal with.

I'm very in love with the mental image of Anakin being unnecessarily aggressive, but tiny, while an even smaller Ahsoka is just constantly laughing at him and everyone he interacts with because this is honestly much lower-stakes than she's used to, and generally very silly. Also, sometimes Master Kenobi lets her hide inside his robe and then she can pop out and scare people.

"Ben, where are your kids?" "Hunting." "Hunting... what?" "Whatever's the most dangerous, I imagine." "You're not worried? Your girl's eight." "I'd know if they were in trouble. Jetii osik, as you like to call it."

[bokettochild]

Day 4 - Trust Fall

Went with the prompt 'taken hostage' for this one, and I'm quite pleased. I might follow it up from another prompt on the list, but I quite like how it ended.

Suffer :)

There are many people who hate the Hero of Warriors.

It was a well-known fact, and something that had haunted him since the ends of the war, but he couldn’t exactly blame the folks who did. After all, it was for lust of the hero that Cia had killed so many, and there were families all across Hyrule who had lost loved ones because the hero had refused the affections of one lonely, corrupted woman.

Zelda had tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but that changed nothing; people had still died because of Cia’s lust, and still more had died because of his own over-confidence. So, when he walked the streets of Castletown and the people who wanted to thank him faded to the background as a single soul would stand and spit insults loaded with venom more poisonous than a deku baba, he would take their words and let them speak, never once challenging them, even when his men would protest and beg for permission to reprimand his attacker. Zelda had pleaded for him to stop, claiming that he lowered the moral of the army by not carrying himself strongly and with honor, but how could he rob someone of their voice when he’d already robbed them of everything else?

There was one upside to it all though; when Warriors met Legend, there was nothing the younger hero could say that could truly hurt him. Legend would huff and complain and tease and jab, but his insults were a gentle nudge in comparison to the hearty shoves into boiling lava that he’d seen from his own people, and he welcomed the verbal sparring with the other hero. It was nice to be able to speak back without having guilt rise in his chest, and he enjoyed getting to tease and bother the veteran hero in return.

In that manner, an unlikely friendship had formed between a hero who hated soldiers and a soldier who hated being a hero.

He was close to all of the others of course; Sky, Wild and himself would spend hours discussing their worlds and the systems of knights and training and the like. Time and Wind, his boys and the pride of his heart, would mess around with him and it warmed him body and soul to offer them advice or comfort after a long day (and having the two of them cuddle up when they thought no one was looking was an extra warm bonus on multiple fronts).

Four was- well, there was no words for the relationship he shared with the smithy. It was a relationship of exchanged looks and mutual silence. One of two brothers who knew each other as well as if they’d actually been born to the same mother, and who could read the others actions as if they were reading their thoughts. It was them flopping over each other and Four climbing onto his shoulders to reach things, it was him throwing the smithy bodily up towards high places and leaning on the top of his head when he was drained or feeling playful.

Wild and Hyrule were his baby brothers, the chaotic ones who he was helping to bring up right, the boys who needed a guiding hand and a firm voice to push them and guide them, but who reveled in warm hugs and teasing or encouraging words.

And Twilight? Twilight was his sparring partner, his closest brother and the one he’d probably end up socking in the face one day. There was enough said on that front. Legend very nearly made the same rank, except...

Except Legend was, truth be told, as much a kid as the others and despite their verbal battles, he didn’t think he could actually ever hit the kid for real, no matter how often he cuffed the pink head or pushed the short vet over in jest, he didn’t think he could ever cause the younger hero harm. Yeah, yeah, so maybe it was the big brother and father in him that said he wouldn’t live with himself if he hurt the kid, but it was also the soldier and captain that saw a reflection of every cocky recruit he’d ever trained and a certain mask wearing child in the vet’s painfully rare smiles and much more common snarky comments.

And he just couldn’t bring himself to hurt a kid in the first place.

No matter how much of an ass they were being.

“Seriously though, how have you not died?” Legend was scoffing, but the vet’s arms were wrapped tight around himself as the kid rolled his eyes. “I mean, one bokoblin? How is that the first time an enemy has ever grabbed your scarf?”

Warriors would have laughed it off with a tease about the vet’s lack of leg protection, but he could see the worry shining in violet hues and feel the tender bruising that wrapped around his own neck. He hardly remembered the last battle, adrenalin and the concussion had seen to that, but legend had been weirdly snappish with him since, yet simultaneously clingy in a way that was painfully uncharacteristic of their salty veteran. “Most monsters are just dumb.” He’d shrugged off at last, but Legend hardly looked contented, picking at his tunic and scowling at his boots as if there was something more he wanted to complain about or say, but he lacked the words to say it.

Oh goddesses, the vet really was like Mask, wasn’t he? All bashful worry and fussing disguised as insults and annoyance, but underneath just a kid who desperately needed the assurance that the people around him weren’t seconds away from death.

“I’ll be fine, you grouchy little bumblebee.” He scoffed, tugging at one of the vet’s long ears, just as he did with Time when the now older hero was getting to wrapped up in his head. “We’re in my world anyway and the monsters here are dumber than rocks.” Usually he’d just say ‘dumb as rocks’ but they’d met a talus in Wild’s Hyrule and he couldn’t honestly think of that phrase the same way since.

“Black blood makes them smarter.” Legend huffed, batting his hands away with a scowl, nose wrinkling up in an almost adorable manner as he sidestepped a swipe at his hair. “And I just fixed that thing for you, I don’t want to have to do that again.”

So much like Time had been, did the vet see it? Just like his middle kid and it was messing with his brain in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. How upset would Sky be if he gathered Legend in amongst his boys as well? The Skyloftian wasn’t particularly possessive of his descendants and he might not mind sharing responsibility over the vet. He’d have to ask, but only once he was sure Legend was out of earshot, the kid was barely tolerant of Sky coddling him, and even then, usually only when he was sleepy or scared shitless.

“Are you listening, Captain? I’m not mending that scarf again this week, you ass.” Legend flicked his ears, irritation at being ignored coloring his face with a scowl that quickly faded into surprise as a blue heap of fabric settled over his head and shoulders. Of course, the surprise disappeared too once Legend’s face was covered with the tail end of the scarf, and he had to grab the back of the vet’s tunic to stop him from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over the rocky path.

“What the heck, Wars?!” The teen squeaked, fumbling with the fabric as the captain let a laugh rumble up through his chest into his throat.

“You keep fussing about the scarf, yeah? Well,” He reached out to tug the loose end down, chest thrumming with warmth as the pout on Legend’s face beneath the scarf and a fierce blush. “So how about you keep it safe for me, just for a bit.” He shifted the fabric again, arranging it to lay better around the veteran’s thin shoulders. “You can give it back after the next battle, yeah? Then you’ll know it’s not damaged.”

The pink-haired hero rolled his eyes at that comment, but Wars didn’t miss how the kid nestled in amidst the blue fabric with a soft hum.

Oh yeah, despite all the teasing, it was clear Legend liked the scarf as much as his other boys. He hoped Sun and Sky didn’t mind sharing too much, because there was no going back now.

“Dramatic arse.” Legend huffed, but despite the vet tugging the scarf up over his nose and mouth he still saw the grin the lay beneath.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Time and Wind exchanging whispers while Twilight grumbled something exceedingly rude and fond all at once.

“Should we split up to find supplies then?” Sky asked, pointedly ignoring Twilight’s comment as he addressed the group as a whole, earning a thoughtful nod from Time.

“Probably best.” The man hummed out. “Groups of three, Hyrule and Wind, you’re with the vet, Four and Sky, you’re with Wars, Cub, Pup, I want you two with me, if something happens I want a responsible adult on every team, as well as someone who knows this Castletown well.”

Agreement thrummed over them as they split up, Wind catching his party members by their hands and pulling them off towards the tailor and apothecary shops so Legend could restock on thread and fabric and Hyrule could gather more healing supplies. Time’s group turned the opposite way, heading off into the main market square so Wild could restock on food stuffs and a new haversack for the traveler as Hyrule’s had had a hole worn in the corner that even Four doubted he could fix. Warriors himself led his team towards the fletchers and the forge, with the intent of buying more arrows and getting Four permission to repair a few of their weapons.

The chatter of the town was cheerier than usual, and to his surprise, not a single person spoke to him beyond the occasional inquiry about directions or an apology or insult after bumping into them. It was like he was invisible, or very nearly, and even those who made a point of calling out thanks or insults only waved cheerily to him as if he was just another passing soldier.

At the smithy, the Master Smithy, Gaepak, blinked in surprise for a good minute when Wars had approached to ask for use of the workroom. “Gen’ral? Is ‘at yew?”

He cocked a brow at the question. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Gaepak boomed a nervous laugh, motioning to his own short neck with a faint flush on his face as his ears twitched lightly. “’Ard to tell you apart from yer men wit’out that scaaf of yers.” The man apologized, and the apprentice at the blacksmith’s side nodded nervously.

He couldn’t help back slip into a disarming smile (although he had to fight not to slip into their heavy accent as well when he spoke). “Quite alright, gentlemen. I’ve just let it out to one of-”

“Yer boys.” the smith nodded knowingly, earning a snigger from their own short-statured smithy and a light chuckle from Sky.

Warriors flushed slightly. Really, the people of Castletown knew him too well. “Yes, one of my boys.”

“An’ a moighty fine father ye are.” Gaepak drawled with a grin. “Use the forge ta yer ‘eart’s content.” The smith added, moving back to his own workstation with a cheery wink. “Jist moind ye clean it up when ya done.”

Four had shouted something of a reassurance before moving to the offered work station with shining hazel eyes and fingers already flitting over the available tools to familiarize himself with them. In the meantime, Sky had shot him a knowing smile, eyes twinkling as the captain had flushed softly.

Four was deep into his work and the two of them had already finished a lengthily talk and a trip to the fletchers when Wind and Hyrule had burst in, heavy breaths heaving through the two and a healthy flush over two sets of rounded cheeks as wild eyes had turned to the two adults.

“Wind, you can’t bust into a forge! Four shouted over the clang of metal. “It’s dang-”

“Legend was kidnapped.” Wind blurted out, voice strained and barely holding onto the collected and controlled report method Warriors had drilled into all of his soldiers during the war.   Four’s hammer froze mid-air as the three had whipped around to face the two younger heroes, both knights stiffening instinctively as all laughter left their faces.

“What happened.” Warriors demanded, stepping forwards, jaw set and eyes hard as he met the sailor’s wavering gaze.

The aura of peace faded in instants, and soldier met the eyes of soldier as Wind snapped a neat salute. Unnecessary, yes, but trained into the kid by the other soldiers and probably a comforting sort of habit to revert to in the moment (Warriors felt the same about standing at parade rest as he listened to the kid’s report). “We were just entering the apothecary when a couple of folks approached Legend outside the door. He waved us inside to do our business while they talked, and Hyrule and I did as he asked. We gathered the needed supplies- that doesn’t matter though- the point is, when we were at the counter ringing up-”

“There was shouting outside!” Hyrule interrupted, fingering the strap of his faded satchel. “We thought it was just Legend being Legend, you know how he is but-”

“But then there was something of a scuffle and some bangin-”

“- and when we finished at the counter, because the man wouldn’t hurry up and refused to let us leave ‘till we’d been rung up-”

“Legend was gone!” Wind exploded, eyes shining with near panic as they met his own.

“Where were you exactly?” Wars demanded, mind already flitting across the list of people who were likely to have taken the vet. There weren’t many people the kid would have interacted with here, especially not alone, and saving the soldiers he’d accidentally embarrassed a couple of switches back (kid needed to wear some pants if he didn’t want to mistook for a girl) there wasn’t anyone he could really think of that would have cause to try anything. Sure, Legend’s winning personality might earn him a blow to the face from some of the rowdier townsfolk, but at worst he’d be left on the street on in an alley with a bruised face and a fractured rib or two, not taken away entirely.

As he considered, Four was already tidying up behind him only to have Gaepak wave them off with a worried look. “Moi boys will see to this ‘ere mess, don’t botha. Yew got a kid missin’ you go fetch ‘im, goodness knows Gen’ral that yew don’t need to be suff’rin’ that again.”

It was a bitter reminder, but he’d nodded his thanks all the same and grabbed ahold of Wind’s hand as he led the charge back into the street, Hyrule and Sky tagging along as Four made arrangements to come back later for the still cooling weapons before scampering out after them.

Searching Castletown’s streets would take hours, but after they’d run into one of his men, Bav, he’d filled the soldier in on the situation, and hardly had the words ‘my kid’ been out of his mouth before the other was nodding and agreeing to get the rest of the squadron to search the town. They’d found the others not long after, and the trio had dropped everything (even Wild’s slate for a hot second) to come rushing after them, their now two groups weaving in and out of alleyways and streets.

“Your wife?” A painfully familiar farm-wife had tutted. “First your poor daughter and now your poor wife. I’m sorry, luv, but I haven’t seen a thing.” Wind had crooked a smile at the groan Warriors had barely stifled as he led their group away, Sky and Hyrule both staring at the duo in confusion as they pressed further into the crowd.

Continued asking had brought up nothing, and after hours of trotting through the streets in a growing panic, Sky at his side and Hyrule nearly fluttering along with them, they’d finally been pulled aside by one of the soldiers and made to sit down in a guard-station long enough to drink some water and be caught up on the soldiers’ findings.

“Nothing yet, General Link, but we’ll keep looking. Until then, you should take a rest-” He’d moved to protest only to be cut off by a frown from one of his mates. “You’ll be run ragged by the time we hear word, and if the scamps intend harm of any sort, you’ll be in no state to help.”

He’d had to agree after that, but it hadn’t stopped him pacing while Sky held the other two close, rocking them softly and humming soft reassurances to the two smaller heroes that he’d bundled in his cape. The other four joined shortly after, Time demanding that Bav tell him what was happening and Twilight bundling over to grab Hyrule from Sky and curl up around him, the rancher’s nose buried in Hyrule’s curls as Four had settled between him and Sky, the smithies callused hands gently rubbing both their arms as he murmured soft reassurances to the others.

It was Wild that pulled him down to rest, flinty blue eyes sparking dangerously as the kid pulled him down to the ground and thrust something edible into his hands. Vaguely, he processed eating it, but his mind was too lost in spinning to take note if it was hot or cold or even what it tasted like.

When word finally came, it was with Bav’s face drawn and the entire guard having had to leave the post in wake of the nervous energy that flowed out from the exhausted heroes.

“Well?” He’d snapped to his feet, jostling Wild on accident as he did so and making the kid nearly toppled over with his sudden movement.

“An ultimatum, General.” Bav replied, clipped and carefully emotionless, even if there was pain in his eyes. “It’s addressed to General Impa, but-”

The note was snatched from waiting fingers before the other soldier had a chance to finish, and he was already breaking the seal as the man stepped back with a shake of his head and a murmured ‘poor man’.

The text that stared up at him stank, copper assaulting his senses as looping crimson script stared mockingly up at him. “General Impa,” The note read. “We have in our possession your branded puppet; the ‘hero’ of the war. We write to you now with a warning; should Hyrule and her queen not repay the debt owed to those fallen and forgotten, he will not be the first to pay the price.

“Repay that which is due, and release the prisoners who you hold unjustly under the claim of treachery. If this is done, your ‘hero’ will meet a kinder fate, and we may even allow you access to the corpse.”

The note was left unsigned, save a spattering of blood over where the signature ought to have been.

“A threat.” He choked, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. “It’s only a threat.”

“I wish, sir.” Bav’s eyes were downcast. “But they sent this as well.” A bundle, already unwrapped by the soldiers was offered to him. “But based on your description, that kid- I'm sorry, Sir.”

Trembling fingers tore aside the stained brown paper as he stared at the contents within.

A blood-soaked blue scarf stared back up at him.

[andypantsx3]

say the word and you know i’ll follow

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 3,262 words

summary: While moving in with Shouto, you get caught up reliving the scene of his confession. Quite literally.

(A smutty oneshot sequel to my fic if i could keep cool.)

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, smut

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, cunnilingus, light bondage

notes: Also cross-posted on my AO3! The manga really has me all in my Todo feels rn but I don't wanna write a whole other fic before I finish the Hawks one, so please have this fluffy smutty one shot as a compromise. It likely won’t make sense unless you’ve read if i could keep cool first, so please check it out if you have the time!

It was sweltering when you stepped outside to make your way to Shouto’s apartment.

A thin film of sweat immediately began to build wherever your skin pressed against the box you carried, and the sun beat down furiously on the crown of your head. You instantly started to second guess your choice to take the train, wondering how dumb of a move it had been to decline an alternative means of transit. It was going to be like being packed into a sardine can and roasted over a hot stove.

Shouto had offered to send an agency car, but there were only so many more times you were going to make the trip from your crumbling student apartment to his place, and you had wanted to make the most of it. You didn’t even really need to bring boxes over just yet--as Shouto had hired a moving company to take care of everything next week--but you didn’t want to lose anything that was inside this one. This one held all your most treasured items--keepsakes from your friends, a pressed white tulip, and all the gifts Shouto had ever given you (minus, of course, the vegetables).

Steeling yourself for an uncomfortable twenty minutes, you set off towards the station, weaving through the tired crowds of people who looked just as sun-weary as you. Thankfully, with a hat over your face and a box you could shift to obscure your features, very few people seemed to recognize you as you did so.

A lot of the media attention surrounding your mishap a year ago had died down, and you had been good about keeping your relationship mostly private, so you weren’t exactly a household name to most people. But there were enough twitter-savvy teens and meme-literate college students that you were sometimes recognized as you went about your daily life.

This time, you were only eyed curiously by one pair of teenage girls as they bundled into the train car across from you, but they didn’t say anything to you, didn’t ask you to reenact the most embarrassing five seconds of your entire life into their phones, as many often did. The box hid you from the rest of the train car, and no one else seemed to take interest in your presence.

After exiting the train at downtown, you made it to Shouto’s building in record time, all but rocket-fueled by your desire to get out of the hot sun. The security team in the lobby of his building gave you friendly nods as you passed, one of them graciously pressing the button for the elevator so you didn’t have to fumble around your box.

You thanked her, making your way into the elevator and elbowing the button for Shouto’s floor. The elevator was even cooler than the lobby, and you shivered in delight as the frigid chill of air conditioning washed over you. God, this building was so fucking nice compared to yours. You were going to be spoiled as fuck once you lived here.

You made it to Shouto’s floor without incident, though digging in your bag for your keys was impossible at the moment, so you knocked on his door as firmly as you could manage with the box still balanced in your arms.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then, the door swung open and Shouto stood there, grinning at you.

His hair still looked a little damp from a recent shower, and he was wearing a dark button up over a soft tee shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He looked unbearably good, as boyishly handsome as ever, and your heart gave an embarrassing little stutter, like it always did whenever you saw him. You suspected it was always going to be like that, no matter how long the two of you had been dating.

Shouto’s eyebrows went up as he considered the box in your arms. That heterochromatic gaze picked over you curiously, expression going carefully blank, like it typically did when he was up to some mischief. And then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“You’re not wearing the scarf,” he said, sounding upset.

You stared up at him, feeling your brow wrinkle. The scarf? It was fucking summer, and the scarf was neatly tucked away in the box you were holding. It was literally boiling hot just outside the well-air conditioned hallways of his building. Why on earth did he think you would be wearing--

You inhaled a little sharply when the answer hit you.

The scarf.

The scarf was the first thing he had mentioned the day he had finally confessed to you. Well, after you had confessed first, really, on national television earlier that week, that you were thirsty as hell for him and were also really bad at picking up subtle clues. Or overt clues. Or any clues, honestly.

But now you were standing in his hallway with a box again, and he was clearly remembering what had happened the last time you had done so.

You wracked your brain for what you had said to him in reply that day, trying to hone in on the words past the sudden swell of embarrassment.

“Uh, it’s in here,” you finally replied, gesturing to the box.

That grey and blue gaze dropped to the parcel in your arms, then flickered up to your face. You pushed the box at him, the way you had the day he’d confessed, feeling just as squirmish as you had then.

What else had you said to him? Something very watery and over dramatic, likely. Something like...

“It’s all, um, there--if you wanted to check,” you said. “Except for the vegetables obviously. But I can pay you back, if you give me a couple months.”

Shouto was clearly suppressing a smirk as he feigned curiosity. “Pay me….what?”

You suppressed your own absurd laugh, wondering how far down mortifying memory lane he wanted to go.

“I also wrote down a recommendation for a new cleaning lady, if you want,” you said, patting the top of the box. “It’s in there. Her name’s Mika, she’s super nice. And I can message you or your manager when I have the money. Just let me know which one you’d prefer. Or I can have Mika drop it off.”

Shouto gripped the box, then, long, elegant fingers pulling back the flaps for him to peer inside. He looked absolutely delighted to find the scarf actually within. In one fluid movement, he pulled the scarf out, depositing the box behind him, and turned back to grab your sleeve, pulling you quickly into the apartment with him.

“Okay, what are you doing with the scarf this time?” you laughed, breaking character.

One white eyebrow went up as Shouto gripped your wrist firmly, eyeing you closely as he pulled off your baseball cap.

“Mm,” he hummed absently in his deep tone. “Something I should have done the first time.” He caught your other wrist, pressing it into the sinfully soft fabric of your favorite accessory.

You looked at him, bewildered, feeling your mouth twist into a slight frown. You rather liked the way things had gone the first time around, considering that you had ended up with a boyfriend at the end of it all. What was his bone to pick with the first time around?

“Uh, if I’m recalling correctly, the first time went great,” you said to him. “Like, really really great. Christening your countertops several different times great.”

There was a flash of white teeth as Shouto grinned.

“Ah, but I missed an opportunity,” he said. A soft sensation slid over your other wrist, and you looked down in confusion.

Then it hit you what he was up to, and your face instantly went up in flames.

A firm tug had your wrists knotted together, and Shouto smirked down at you, tugging you closer by the silky fabric of your scarf. Your stomach swooped at the intent look in his eye.

“I had been upset you weren’t wearing the scarf,” he said. “But there was an easy way to fix that.”

You swallowed heavily, your tongue feeling strangely thick. Your brain was suddenly, but predictably, very very empty.

“Y-yeah. But technically you, um. You did fix it,” you babbled helplessly, limbs growing shivery with static as Shouto pressed closer. He was so warm, and he was so stupidly handsome.

“I’ve, uh, worn it a lot since,” you managed.

Shouto considered you quietly, a familiar, wry little smile pressing at the corner of his mouth.

Before you’d started dating, you’d been confused as hell by that expression, suspecting it meant he was bewildered by your very existence but was too polite to say so. After just over a year together, however, you had learned that was just what his face did when he thought you were being unreasonably appealing. Which, mystifyingly, was mostly when the working part of your brain disconnected from your mouth.

You scrounged around for other coherent words, thoughts thick and sluggish, like you were thinking through pudding.

Shouto, however, was merciful, putting an end to your suffering by leaning down and taking your mouth with his.

All the coherent thought you’d managed to dredge up melted away like frost under the morning sun. You pressed yourself closer to him, leaning up to give him better access to your mouth. Shouto kissed you as stupid as he always did before a hot hand came up to cup your face, thumb sliding over your cheek affectionately.

“It seems I’ve got you in the scarf as I had wanted,” Shouto said quietly, once he let you up for air. “But now I find that the scarf is all I want you in.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you might have said was as much a mystery to you as anyone. But all that managed to come out was a choked, breathy little noise.

Shouto laughed.

Then there were large hands on your waist, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at the wood paneling of Shouto’s floor as it moved underneath you. Shouto adjusted you over his shoulder briefly, and then he was charting a brisk course to his bedroom, depositing you like an errant pillow back onto his sheets.

Your cheeks burned as he crawled over you, gaze hot and searching.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

You nodded vehemently, eyes pulled to the little flat sliver of his abs where his shirt had ridden up.

“Good, yeah, I’m so good,” you managed to garble out. You were going to be so embarrassed about this later, but as usual when it came to him, you really couldn’t help it. If you’d learned anything in the year you’d been together, it was that you would always have the world’s fattest crush on Shouto Todoroki.

Strong fingers came up to grasp your chin, tipping your face up for another searing kiss. You managed to loop your bound arms over the back of Shouto’s neck, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and pulling him down to you more firmly.

Shouto flattened himself against you, so that you could feel every strong plane of his body, every hard muscle. You shuddered, and you could feel Shouto smirk against your mouth.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, hands pulling at your shirt. You wiggled so that he could pull it out from under you, sliding it up to rest just below the scarf. In the next second he’d also gotten you out of your pants, so that you were mostly bare to him in the cool apartment air.

Shouto looked you over for a moment, looking like he still couldn’t believe you existed. “Having you over the countertops was something that I wouldn’t change. Something that I won’t change, once you move in.”

Your face went hot and you squirmed underneath him.

“However,” he said softly, “I believe I would have liked to have been more deliberate with you. Taken my time with you,” he paused. “Perhaps...I might have made you come once for every photo of me on your twitter.”

The tips of your ears went hot. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t be serious.

You had deleted that twitter over a year ago, and though he’d apparently been allowed access to the contents by his manager (rude) there was absolutely no way he could remember how many pictures of him you’d retweeted. You’d been the one doing the retweeting, and even you didn’t remember, though you thought the number was probably embarrassingly high.

“There was like, one,” you squeaked out.

Shouto’s smile went dark and he leaned over you, his perfect, infuriating mouth so close he might have kissed you again.

“Thirteen,” he said, mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “There were thirteen photos of me on your twitter. All while you tried so hard to act like you didn’t want me, that you wanted to be just friends.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to be my friend,” you protested. You jerked when his hand slid up your side to cup a breast, thumb slipping under the band of your bra.

“You weren’t accepting my gifts,” he said, fingers grazing your nipple. You bit down on an embarrassing noise, letting out a sharp breath. “How else was I to make you take them?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Shouto made another pass over your nipple, and a moan escaped you instead.

“That’s right, love,” he said encouragingly. “Now I’m going to make you give me something in return. Thirteen somethings, in fact.”

He peeled down the cup of your bra, fastening his hot mouth over your breast. You whined, twitching when he flattened his tongue, dragging it slowly over the point of your nipple. A strong arm came up to press your hands down over your head.

“Shouto, thirteen is insane,” you panted.

He paid you no mind, instead swirling his tongue in a way that made your vision blur.

A tugging at your wrists made you look up, in time to see Shouto one-handedly looping the long end of the scarf through the slats on his headboard and pulling tight. Your whole body clenched up at the implication.

The slide of fabric over your breasts told you that Shouto had also managed to get your bra up, and hot mouth closed over your other nipple, long fingers carefully plucking at the other. “We have all weekend, love. Thirteen is ambitious but quite possible.”

You made a weak noise of acknowledgement, hips shifting forward against his stomach.

Shouto laughed, hot breath ghosting over your breast, and then he was crawling down your torso, hands grasping your underwear. He pulled it down slowly, torturously, until he managed to get it off you, then pulled your knee over his shoulder.

You whimpered, feeling like you might actually pass out from how hot he looked, one thigh thrown carelessly over his shoulder, gaze intent, staring down at you like a starving man looking at a hot meal.

You squirmed, trying to pull your arms down to get your hands on him, but the scarf held fast, pulling more firmly over your wrists.

“Shouto, please,” you said, though whether you were begging for him to touch you or to let you go, even you didn’t know.

Shouto seemed to take it as permission. Those two-toned eyes passed over you hotly, and then he was leaning down, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh. You jerked violently, but he held you in place, mouth trailing slowly, slowly down to where you wanted him.

You thought you might actually black out before he got where he was going.

“I can’t believe I ever told you you were unwelcome in my apartment,” he murmured, sucking a slow bruise into the skin at the crease of your thigh. “Once you move in, I’m never going to let you leave it.”

“Oh my god,” you said.

Shouto’s tongue flicked out, catching the edge of your sex, and you tried not to choke on air.

Then, finally, he moved, fastening his mouth over you, exactly where you wanted him. All reason completely left you.

After that, everything was an unbearable flurry of feeling--a soft tongue swirling over you, the tickle of his bangs on your stomach, the press of broad shoulders between your knees. There was the rasp of his sheets between your shoulder blades, the slow, deliberate press of two fingers inside of you, a firm grip on your thigh, fingers digging in tightly.

You could feel every point of connection with him, every minute movement of his mouth over you, and the sensation built up into something so horribly, terribly good. You were unable to do anything but writhe and pant underneath him, babbling something that sounded like it might be an approximation of his name.

Shouto hummed and sucked softly, those long fingers curling inside you. He finally hit a spot that made you see stars, and you practically lifted off the bed, back bowing. Shouto licked you through it, tongue curling expertly around your clit while you sobbed out his name, only slowing when your body went slack, collapsing back into his sheets.

When you could see straight once more, you realized he was staring up at you, that wry smile curling the corner of his mouth again.

You fought down a blush, feeling an embarrassed grin pull at the corner of your own mouth.

“You’re unreal,” you said. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to have you all the time.”

Shouto pressed a short kiss to the skin of your hip. “You already have me all the time.”

You flapped a hand in its bindings. “You know what I mean. I can’t believe we’re going to live together.”

His fingers slid gently over the back of your thigh. “I’d have had you in here sooner, if you hadn’t insisted on graduating first.”

You laughed. He was always so very straightforward about whatever he wanted.

He had been making very unsubtle noises about living together only a few months into your relationship, but you’d insisted that you wait at least a year. He’d grown up with more conservative mores, having been raised a rich boy, and taking things quickly once he knew he was serious about you seemed to be the style of things. But you, despite your frankly unreasonable thirst for your own boyfriend, knew the value of taking things just a little bit slower.

So you’d waited a year, just to be prudent, though you’d known all along how things would end up.

And now he finally had his way.

“I’m all yours now,” you promised, laughing. “Soon you’ll be sick of me hogging the bed, and leaving books everywhere, and getting so blackout at the farmer’s market that we don’t have room for all the vegetables.”

“Ah, you’re using me for vegetable access,” he accused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile he was attempting to smother into your thigh.

“A girl’s gotta have her priorities,” you grinned.

Something lit up in Shouto’s gaze again, and he shifted up against your thigh to lean over you more fully. His fingers gripped the back of your knee tightly.

“I'll make you pay for that,” he promised darkly. “Twelve more times.”

You shivered as he took your mouth again, fingers sliding back between your thighs with obvious intent.

And then you really did. You paid for it.

Twelve more times.

[sanseru]

Kazuichi Souda Deserved Better

SPOILERS FOR DANGANRONPA 2 AHEAD  (Despair arc is also mentioned but I don’t think it’s very spoilery)

Okay, this rant sorta ramble thing has been sitting in my docs for a while now but I really want to get this out finally. This is my entire essay on why Kazuichi Souda was completely screwed over in Danganronpa 2 as a character and why I think he does not deserve the amount of hate he gets.

So, Kazuichi Souda. One of the more dislikable characters in Danganronpa and my personal favorite. Now, I want to start off by saying I absolutely understand why people hate Kazuichi or at the very least, heavily dislike him. He’s an obnoxious, perverted asshole who unintentionally goes out of his way to make Sonia Nevermind incredibly uncomfortable with his constant badgering and flirting. Not to mention, he’s declared Gundham Tanaka his love rival for clearly getting along with Kazuichi’s crush better than him. He rarely helps in the actual trials and can be incredibly obnoxious at times. So with all that being said, how the hell can I try to redeem Kazuichi and claim him as my favorite character? Well, for starters I absolutely adore his aesthetic. I can’t help it, bright, funky messes make me happy. So does his design get him a couple points in my book? Absolutely. However, the main thing that ended up winning me over completely was something most people don’t even end up checking out: his free time event. And that same thing is what frustrates me the most about how he was used throughout the main game. 

So now I want to review Kazuichi’s free time events for those who haven’t seen them. Throughout most of the interactions, Kazuichi is shown that his carefree and “cool kid” attitude isn’t entirely real. He grew up in a household with little money and seemingly no good friends. When asked about his dreams for the future, he gets embarrassed, his confident facade falling before he finally reveals that he wants to work on a rocket ship someday. However, it’s after this interaction that Hajime compares Kazuichi to a delinquent, accidentally and visibly upsetting the mechanic. The second to last event, Kazuichi reveals one more thing about himself: his belief that all humans are no more than animals that’ll eventually betray one another. It isn’t until the 5th and final free time event that Kazuichi explains everything mentioned before in more detail. He used to be a quiet, weak child who trusted people unconditionally. However, one day Kazuichi was betrayed and abandoned by a close friend. After that, he found himself so sick of being pushed around that he changed his appearance and attitude, even if he really didn’t want to. Soon enough, Kazuichi got grouped in with the punks and delinquents and was even frightened by the amount of girls that suddenly seemed interested in him. Throughout the conversations, we quickly come to learn that he’s an anxious, socially awkward and nervous type of person more than anything. Though he really does want a good friend he can put his faith in, he finds it difficult because everything he’s seen has proven to him that that wouldn’t happen. 

Now, after finishing Kazuichi’s free time events, I couldn’t help but feel something was off. Like his free time events didn’t really line up with his character throughout the game. His distrusting of Hajime in the fun house made more sense but one detail kept gnawing at me. How could someone so scared of being betrayed, so clearly fed up with popularity, want to date a woman who he only knows to be a princess that has an unnerving obsession with murderers and true crime? I know human beings can be irrational but that never sat right with me. And maybe you can make the argument that Kazuichi only distrusts men but even that can be proven away with how buddy buddy he gets with Hajime in SDR2 and Fuyuhiko in Despair Arc (though I suppose that relationship is equally as confusing considering Fuyuhiko’s ultimate). Perhaps I’m missing something, but it just doesn’t add up to me. 

So what’s my point at the end of all of this? Put simply, I think that Kazuichi Souda’s character is a mess. I personally see his free time self and in game self as two completely different people and would’ve strongly preferred to see more of his backstory shine in the primary game. I feel as though Kazuichi was given the creepy, stalkerish traits just to have another male character for people to blatantly dislike since Teruteru was killed off so early. As though they needed someone who would annoy the player throughout every trial. That, above everything, is what frustrates me to no end. I feel like Kazuichi is a greatly relatable character to some people, myself included. I like his backstory and honestly, I find him somewhat endearingly dumb at times. Now I’m not saying we should completely throw out his girl crush or anything like that but at the very least, they could’ve possibly toned it back. Maybe instead of outright making Sonia viscerally uncomfortable, he’d try and fail to talk to her, like a proper, clumsy teen who’s never flirted a day in his life. Maybe he tries talking to Hajime about girls and stereotypically manly stuff because he’s not quite sure what other guys like to talk about and that’s the first thing that comes to mind. Maybe he doesn’t make Gundham his enemy, annoying the crap out of him at every turn, but is instead simply jealous of the guy, trying to figure out what he has that Kazuichi doesn’t. Perhaps he’s not even really jealous of how Gundham talks to Sonia but more that Gundham has so much more confidence in himself than Kazuichi has. My point is, I feel he didn’t have to be this obnoxious, useless character for people to poke fun at and could’ve genuinely struck a cord with some people.

But all in all, that’s just my opinion on Kazuichi Souda as a character. I doubt I’m going to be able to win over anybody who genuinely dislikes Kazuichi with this post but I do want to try and maybe explain why I love his character so much. 

[wxnderlustfandoms]

not a villain [loki x teen!reader]

[not my gif]

pairing: loki x teen! reader (platonic), avengers x teen!reader (platonic) 

description: you try to make loki feel more welcome after thor brings him to the compound, thinking it would be good for him. he thinks you’re just trying to get on his good side for selfish reasons, but after overhearing you defend him to the avengers, he realizes you see the good in him

word count: 2291

warnings: none really. 

a/n: not me taking this description straight from my shifting script and turning it into a fanfic lmfao

in a way a continuation of this headcannon because the reader’s powers are the same and its the same backstory. 

After the fight at the airport between the avengers, they all realized how stupid the accords were and how it provided them no freedoms to do the things they needed to. However, you pointed out that the idea of an accords was okay because if we’re being honest, the avengers didn’t really think about collateral. The avengers all met with the countries that made the accords and worked together to revise them to work the best for both parties. 

Once that was settled, you all moved back into the compound and returned to normal life. Well, as normal as you can get with the avengers. 

One day, you heard a loud booming noise outside and saw a flash of light come from outside. You opened your window and flew out quickly to investigate. When you got closer, you saw a tall blonde with longer hair and a hammer. With him was another tall man with long black hair. A few other avengers were already there and they seemed to be on edge. 

You landed next to them and realized that the blonde was Thor. He was an avenger and you remembered seeing him on tv when New York was getting attacked. 

“I’m sure you all remember my brother, Loki,” Thor introduced, gesturing to the man with black hair next to him. Loki looked about as excited to be there as everyone else was to see him. 

“Wait, wasn’t that the guy who attacked New York? I saw him on TV when I was a little kid,” You asked Sam quietly, whispering towards him. Sam nodded his head and you looked back to Thor confused. 

“Why is he here, Thor?” Tony asked, holding his armor-covered hand up to him, prepared to attack if he needed to. You seemed to be the only one not in a fighting stance, but to be fair, you really didn’t understand what was happening. 

“I believe that it will be good for Loki to come and live with us all here! Who knows, maybe he could even become an avenger with the proper training!” Thor boomed with a smile. You felt yourself smile a bit just looking at him, he radiated so much pure, optimistic, happy energy. 

“Absolutely not, he tried to take over the world, Thor. He killed people,” Natasha argued back.

“My brother may have had a complicated past, but I just know that this will be a good opportunity for him!” 

You didn’t feel as though you were in any place to take a side, as you were not there in New York and did not know anything about Loki, but you felt as though if Loki was here to train to become an avenger, he should be able to. He didn’t seem like a terrible guy. You listened to them go back and forth for a while, discussing things you once again couldn’t input on because you were a child when these things happened. 

Eventually, Thor convinced the rest of the Avengers to let Loki stay with them. However, he was basically on house arrest at the compound until they deemed him trustworthy enough to leave, and Tony made sure to tell Loki how he believed that to be a long, long time. Loki seemed to not be bothered at all, and hadn’t really talked throughout the entire interaction. His brother kind of took the lead and spoke out for him. 

The next week, you didn’t see Loki much around the compound. He seemed to be brooding in his room or something like that. You shrugged and just thought he might be taking his time to get comfortable. 

I mean, he did try to kill a lot of people in this compound. It's got to be awkward to just run into them in the same compound now that he lives with them, You thought, walking into the kitchen. Your wings flexed in surprise when you saw Loki in the kitchen. He looked up when you walked in and he looked like he was going to leave once he was aware of your presence, but you stopped him.

“You don’t have to leave, you know? We both live here and this kitchen is big enough for the two of us,” You said. 

His face didn’t betray what he was thinking, but he didn’t make another move to leave. You got out some ingredients to make a sandwich for yourself and looked over to Loki, who was looking through the cabinet. 

“So… you’re like… a god?” You asked him the question you’d been thinking the whole time since he moved in. 

He looked at you and raised an eyebrow. The look on your face told him you were being serious. 

“Yes,” He responded bluntly. You raised both of your eyebrows in your surprise that you got a verbal answer. 

You hummed, going back to making your sandwich. Loki didn’t seem to find anything he wanted in the cabinet and made his way to leave the kitchen. “See ya, Loki!” You said as he exited. 

The next few weeks went the same way, you running into Loki and initiating conversation with him, trying to get to know things about him. He was very blunt, his answers short. Sometimes he didn’t even answer and the conversations were very one sided but you still didn’t give up trying to get to know him. You knew that because Thor was still taking care of things on Asgard and coming back and forth, he didn’t really have time to check on how Loki was but for a few minutes. And the other avengers made no attempt to socialize with the god. So you decided to. You weren’t sure if they knew you were talking to him all the time, but if they did none of them made an attempt to stop you. They knew you were trusting, but they also knew you weren’t dumb, so they trusted you. 

One day, you caught Thor when he was visiting the compound and asked him what Loki’s favorite earth food was, or if he could bring him some food from Asgard. Thor was surprised a teenager was concerned about Loki, but thanked you for thinking about him. He told you about an Asgard dish that could easily be made with Earth food and you thanked him, going to the kitchen and started making it. When you were done with it, you went to Loki’s room and knocked on his door. It took a minute before he opened it, but he was surprised to see you when he did open it. 

“Hi! I noticed you didn’t seem interested in any of the snacks in the cabinet and haven’t really eaten any good meals since you got here, so I made you something. Thor said it was similar to an Asgardian dish. I’m… not sure exactly which one. It was pronounced weird. But I hope you enjoy it!” You said, handing it to him. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just looked at the dish and then back up at you. 

“Anyway, I hope you have a good day, Loki!” You told him, walking back to clean up your mess in the kitchen. 

Loki stood there with the door open, looking at the dish. His thoughts were jumbled and he couldn’t figure you out. What could you possibly want from him that would make you try so hard to get on his good side? He appreciated the gesture, but he didn’t trust that it was just out of the kindness of your heart.

Later that week, you were hanging out with a majority of the avengers in a lounge room, TV on in the background, but you all were mostly just talking. 

The topic of Loki got brought up quickly. They started talking about still not being able to trust him and how awkward it is he lives at the compound now. Usually you wouldn't say anything because you didn’t feel like it's your place but you just had to this time. 

“Well maybe, if you guys even tried to talk to Loki, you would know he’s not a terrible person,” You defended. 

Bruce laughed, “Are we talking about the same man that mind controlled Clint and made me go all hulk mode on everyone?” 

Clint agreed. 

“Jesus,” You stood up, wings ruffled in anger.

“[Y/n], why are you getting so defensive?” Sam asked. 

You turned around and gave him an annoyed look. “Because you all are sitting here, saying Loki could never be anything but a villain, but won’t stop treating him like he is!” You threw your hands up in defeat. Walking a bit to the right before turning back to them. “Like, how is he supposed to prove to you guys he’s good when you won’t even give him the time of day! I’m not saying to go in trusting him 100%, I know he did bad things in his past. But haven’t we all? Isn’t there some part of our past we wish we could go back and erase because it was a mistake?” You looked to Natasha especially while saying this. 

“[Y/n], I understand what you’re trying to say, but it’s incredibly naive of you to trust Loki, and to compare what he did to any of us,” Clint responded. You looked at him, confused and hurt. Looking to the other people sitting in the room, they agreed, nodding their heads. Your eyes started tearing up. 

“If I’m too ‘young’ and ‘naive’ to understand these things then why am I even an avenger? You can’t sit here and constantly bring up my age and lack of experience when I try to say things just because you don’t think I’m right! If Loki’s villainy in the past never affected you guys personally you wouldn’t be sitting here holding this, what? 5 year grudge against him!?” You felt a few tears fall down your face and you brushed them away, almost angry that they decided to fall when you were trying to talk to your comrades. You were trying to tell them that you don’t want to be treated like a kid, but here you were crying like one. 

“[Y/n]...” Sam started, getting up when he saw you were crying. You shook your head, turning away from them and running back to your room. You collapsed onto your bed and let out a few sobs. 

You weren’t necessarily crying because the avengers didn’t accept Loki. It upset you, but that wasn’t why you were crying. You were crying because this wasn’t the first time they have brought up your age to belittle your opinion or said you were not experienced enough to have an opinion on something. You were sick of them treating you like that when you’d been a part of the avengers for almost 2 years. You jumped slightly when you heard a knock at your door. You thought it was Sam coming to talk to you, but you didn’t want to speak to him.

“Go away, Sam,” You yelled. 

“It’s Loki,” You heard his voice from the other side of the door. Your eyes widened in surprise and jumped up off the bed. Walking to open the door. You tried to make it look like you weren’t crying, but when you opened the door he could see the redness and puffiness around your eyes. 

“Is… something wrong?” You asked, having no idea why Loki would come talk to you of his own accord. 

“Can we talk?” He asked. You nodded and led him into your room. He looked around for a second, taking in your room before you sat on the bed and invited him to do the same. You sat more towards the middle of the bed, crossing your feet in towards you. Loki sat near the edge, barley making an indent in the covers. It was probably as awkward for him as it was for you. 

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve been annoying you the past few weeks. I’ve been trying to make you feel welcome here but I know it's been a lot. No one really wants a teenager all up in their business. So… I’m sorry,” You started, looking up at him.  

Now, you were usually good at reading people, however, ever since Loki moved into the compound, you could never read his face. Even now, you looked at his face and couldn’t see a single expression that revealed what he was thinking.

“I don’t understand you. Why are you so nice to me? And why would you go against your teammates to defend me? What exactly does that accomplish you?” You sigh a little as you realize he overheard you talking to the group of people out there.

“I don’t really have a reason to be nice besides wanting to make you feel welcome. I know what it’s like to feel… out of place.” You gesture to the wings on your back and the horns on your head. “Ever since this happened, the avengers are the only people that seem to accept me as the way I am. And I believe everyone deserves to have that. Even if the avengers don’t end up being that for you, I hope you do find it.” You explain. “I trust that you have good in you. Being mischievous doesn’t mean being evil,” You smile at him.

For the first time since Loki moved in with the avengers, he smiled. Even if it was a small smile, it was genuine. He nodded and got up, on his way to leave. Before he did leave though, he turned around and revealed he was never truly annoyed by you and enjoyed the talks you had. 

[intheticklecloset]

A Good Tickling (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

This one is a direct sequel to “Wardrobe Malfunction,” as requested above. It’s also officially the longest fic I’ve ever written for any fandom, clocking in at 3,000+ words, so buckle up! I really had fun delving into this one and exploring Kirishima and Bakugou’s friendship on a bit of a deeper level while still turning it into a tickle fic by the end. I sincerely hope you enjoy! <3

6: “You want me to tickle you that bad?”

25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”

8: “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

20: “Stop resisting!”

19: “I see that smile. Come on, laugh!”

25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”

You’ll notice for some of the numbered prompts I didn’t use the exact quote, but a variation thereof. This was to help prevent repetitiveness as well as maintain believable story flow. They’re still in the fic, just perhaps not word for word.

Warning: Slight angst.

~

Kirishima was quiet. Like, really quiet. Too quiet. And Bakugou was extremely aware of it.

The silence had come on gradually, over the course of a couple of weeks. At first it was just small pockets of time during which the redhead seemed to shrink in on himself for no discernable reason, but he’d soon bounce back when someone started talking to him, Bakugou included. But as time went on, those pockets of silence became entire hours, which became days by the time two weeks had gone by.

Then Bakugou noticed something even more disconcerting.

Kiri would only be silent around him.

He’d walk into a situation in which Kiri was his normal self, having a good time with their other mutual friends and classmates, and boom. Instant shutdown. It was impossible to ignore after the second time it happened that Kirishima was going silent because of his presence, and Bakugou was actually getting worried about it.

It all came to a head one night when Bakugou went downstairs for dinner, where Kiri and some others were already starting to eat. As soon as he entered the room Kiri’s face went dark and he stopped speaking, which was already bothersome to the atomic teen before the redhead then stood up, put his practically uneaten dinner in the fridge, and left the room.

That was the moment Bakugou realized he’d done something wrong. Somewhere along the line and without knowing it, he’d upset Kirishima so much that his closest friend couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him anymore.

No, he thought. I have to fix this. So he turned right back around and followed Kirishima to his dorm room.

“It’s open,” Kiri called when Bakugou knocked, and as soon as the door was open enough for him to see who was visiting, he turned his back and didn’t say anything.

Bakugou felt awkward closing the door behind him as he entered the silent space, but he’d resolved to find out what was going on. He hated this rift that existed between them now. He wanted to close it up. To be close with Kiri again. He missed him, dang it.

For a long while words failed him. How was he supposed to approach this when he didn’t know what was wrong? Finally Bakugou cleared his throat. “Hey. Are you mad at me?”

Kiri’s shoulders slumped. “No.”

Well, that was a relief, at least. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Bull. Bakugou fought back an angry retort and said in his calmest voice, “You can run from me all you like, Kirishima, but at the end of the day you can’t hide that you’re upset with me about something. It’s written all over your face every time you look at me. So…” He sighed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Kiri still wouldn’t look at him. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to you,” Bakugou shot back, “and I don’t like that you aren’t yourself around me lately. Where’s that loud, obnoxious, spiky-haired idiot I usually hang out with?”

“I don’t know.”

Bakugou’s irritation was rising, but he used every ounce of willpower he had to fight it. He tried to think rationally. When had this all started? Not long after that day in the locker room when he called Kiri’s costume stupid. Was that it? “Is this because of what I said about your hero costume?”

Kirishima tensed, but shook his head. “No.” His voice was quieter now. “It’s not that.”

“Well, you started being really weird around me after that, so what gives?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The redhead got up from his seat at his desk and finally turned to look at him, and the look in his eyes – the upset, lost, desperate look – was like a sucker punch to the stomach to Bakugou. Guilt washed over him, and he still didn’t even know why.

“Yes, it does.” Bakugou felt something inside him soften. He dared to take a step closer. “Please, Kiri, tell me what I did wrong. I want to fix it. Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

Kirishima seemed to have some kind of struggle within himself. He grabbed onto the back of his desk chair and gripped it so hard Bakugou thought it might splinter. Finally he muttered, “It’s just…I’ve tried everything I can think of. Nothing’s working.”

“What isn’t?”

“I’ve tried tickling you,” Kiri continued, his eyes everywhere but the blonde. “I’ve tried outing you to our friends, I’ve tried tickling you in public, teasing you in public, saying things I thought would make you angry enough to retaliate…nothing!” He shoved his chair into his desk so hard it made Bakugou jump. “And then when you finally tickle me and call it revenge, we’re in the middle of class so I can’t even enjoy it because I don’t want to get in trouble. And I try challenging you openly and still nothing!” The redhead was on a roll now that the words were finally coming. “Even Sero has tickled me nearly to death, and he almost never does that kind of thing. Everyone seems to get it. Everyone can tell when I want it. But even when I outright tell you to do your worst, you do nothing!”

Bakugou was stunned.

“Why is it,” Kiri continued, voice rising, “that all of our friends know that I love being tickled and will tickle me when I want it, but my best friend just stands there even when I’m practically begging him to destroy me? I don’t understand!”

This time, the silence was on Bakugou’s end. He had no idea what to say. He’d never seen Kiri so openly upset, and over something that could have so easily been avoided if he’d just pulled his head out of his butt long enough to see how much damage his apathy was doing.

A long minute passed before he was able to speak.

“I…” Bakugou cleared his throat. “I didn’t know…I mean, I knew you liked it, but…I didn’t realize how much…” He frowned. “You want me to tickle you that bad?”

“Ugh!” Kirishima covered his face with his hands and cried, “Yes!”

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Bakugou took another step closer. “Kiri, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. It…it means a lot, doesn’t it?”

“It’s so stupid,” Kiri growled, but Bakugou could tell even before he turned his back again that his friend was on the verge of tears. Another sucker punch to the gut. “It’s so stupid. It’s just tickling. I shouldn’t be so upset over this, right? It’s so dumb of me.”

“Oh, heck no.” No way was Bakugou letting him go down this path with his thoughts. He strode right up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him around. “Do not feel bad about this. This is my fault. This isn’t because you weren’t clear enough. I knew what you were asking for and I just stood there, like you said. Like a complete and total jerk. Do not apologize for my mistakes. Let me do that. Kiri, I’m so sorry.”

Kiri said nothing, but he swallowed thickly, and Bakugou pulled him into a hug before he could think twice about it. He held the redhead close and waited, hoping that his apology would be accepted. The silence stretched on for what felt like forever. Then, finally, Kiri wrapped his arms around him, too, sighing heavily into his shoulder.

“What is it?” Bakugou asked softly, genuinely, trying not to disturb the moment. As much as he hated sentiment, he didn’t want to screw this up any more than he already had. “Why is it so important to you? I want to understand.”

“That’s just it,” Kiri mumbled in reply. “I can’t put my finger on it, exactly. It’s just…it’s so much fun, and it makes me feel good, and when it’s with my friends I know I can feel comfortable and be open about it without judgement, and even when I’m getting absolutely destroyed I know I’m safe and they’ll stop when I really need them to. But until then I can just…laugh until I can’t breathe.” The redhead pulled away from Bakugou, keeping his eyes averted. “I don’t know. It’s just so much fun. And with you, I know you’re good at tickling; I’ve heard Midoriya talk about it, I even experienced it a couple of times. And you’re my best friend, so more than anyone else I want you to tickle me into next year. So when I openly asked you to and all this time has gone by and you’ve had lots of opportunities and you didn’t, I just…” Kiri bit his lip. “I felt like maybe you really didn’t care. You act like it a lot, but this time…this time I wondered if you—”

“I care,” Bakugou said quickly, desperate to bring an end to that train of thought. “I care, Kiri, I’m just a complete jerk.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “God, I really screwed things up. I’m an idiot.”

Kiri offered a weak smile. “It’s okay—”

“No it’s not okay!” Bakugou snapped. “Are you kidding me? Look how upset you are over this! How is any part of this okay? No.” He shook his head. “No. I have to fix this. I want to fix this.” He thought for a moment, then met Kiri’s eyes. “Do you still want me to?”

Kirishima stared at him. “W-What? Now?”

“Or later,” Bakugou said quickly. “If I haven’t ruined everything. But – but yeah, I’ll do it now, if you want.”

Kiri took a step back. “Talk about whiplash.”

“I know I’ve been a jerk, and I know you’re upset, but if you’re okay with it I’d much rather make you laugh right now—”

“Bakugou,” Kiri said, “I want you to tickle me. But only if you want to. Don’t do it just because you feel obligated. Do it because you mean it.”

Bakugou nodded once. “I mean it. I’ll tickle you into oblivion now, and then later I’ll do it again and again and again. I do want to make you laugh, Kiri. Really.” He dared to smirk. “But even more, I kind of want to see how much it will take for you to beg me for mercy.”

Kiri frowned. “It will take a lot. I’m not kidding about that.”

“Then bring it on.” Bakugou tackled Kirishima onto his bed, making the redhead yelp in surprise. He swung a leg over to straddle him and paused, just once. “You sure this is okay right now?”

“For the love of god, Bakugou,” Kiri groaned, “if you don’t make good on your promise right here and now I swear I will end our friendship and then end you!”

“Good enough for me.” Bakugou grinned wickedly, shoving Kiri’s arms above his head. “All right, then. When you really can’t take it anymore, tap out. Until then, I will not stop. Got it?”

“Prove it,” Kiri spat, but his eyes were hopeful.

“Keep those arms up there.” Bakugou growled, releasing his hold and sitting back. “Move them and I’ll make it worse.”

“All bark and no bite?”

“Hah.” Bakugou smirked. “One more thing. I want to make you laugh so hard you forget your own name. But before that, I want to see how long you can go without laughing. Bet you’re not going to be very good at that part.”

Kiri smirked back. “Bring it on already.”

Bakugou did, lightly trailing his fingers from Kiri’s underarms down his ribs and sides to his stomach, watching the redhead twitch a little but – surprisingly – do very well in keeping himself in control. “Hmm,” the blonde mused. “Should have had you take your shirt off. That would make this easier.”

“Want to enjoy the view?” Kiri teased. “I told you I look good in my costume as it is.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Give me a break.”

“The shirt stays on. You made me wait this long. Now I’m going to make you work for it.”

“I don’t think that will be hard, considering I can just do this.” The blonde shoved his hands up under Kiri’s t-shirt and raked his nails down his ribs roughly, making Kiri choke on a startled yelp. “Giving in already?”

“No way!”

“We’ll see.”

Bakugou got to work, starting very lightly and increasing the pressure with every pass, making sure to focus on the ribs when he circled back to them each time, knowing that was Kiri’s worst spot and very likely the place that would break him and make him laugh first. Kirishima kept his arms above his head as instructed and his smile widened more and more, but he did better than Bakugou was expecting at keeping his mirth at bay.

“Dang, you’re stubborn,” the blonde muttered after a few minutes of this. “Stop resisting, already.”

“Y-You’re the o-one who wanted m-me to h-hold out,” Kiri stammered. If nothing else, he sounded close to breaking, and that was satisfying just on its own. “I’m c-c-committed n-now.”

“Well, knock it off. I see that smile, but I want to hear you laugh, spiky hair.” Bakugou decided to be a little mean and press his thumbs into Kiri’s bottom ribs, kneading gently. “Come on. Let it out.”

“Agh, n-no,” Kiri’s voice wobbled as he tried to stay in check, his grin splitting his face. He squirmed a little. “That’s cheating!”

“Oh, is it? Too bad. Playing dirty is kind of my thing when it comes to tickling. Ask Deku.”

“I k-know all about that. He’s t-t-told me how r-ruthless you ahare.”

Bakugou kneaded deeper. “Was that a giggle?”

“Ah! N-No, no!”

“It sounded like a giggle.”

“It w-w-wasn’t!”

Feeling evil, Bakugou kept up his kneading pace and began to tease. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

Kiri whined. “Oh, y-you so don’t p-plahay fair!”

“Now that was a giggle.”

“You s-s-suck so much--!”

Bakugou dug his fingers in deep to Kirishima’s ribcage, and with a shriek of surprise, the redhead finally broke.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHERK I WAHAHAHAS DOING SO GOHOHOHOHOHOOD!!”

“Too good,” Bakugou corrected over Kiri’s laughter, impressed his friend’s arms were still above his head, albeit flailing now. “I was getting tired of you showing me up from such a helpless position. Forget resisting. It’s time to make you laugh your guts out.”

“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU SOHOHOHOHON OF A--!!”

Bakugou slapped a hand over his mouth and tickled wildly with his other hand, enjoying the look of sheer panic that came over Kiri’s face. The redhead started to bring his arms down. “Ah-ah-ah! What did I say? Keep them up.” Kiri whined, fisting his hands into his hair while his legs kicked wildly, the sounds of his distress muffled. “Well now, this is satisfying. You look hilarious, all freaked out like that. Didn’t think I’d pull out all the stops, did you?”

Kiri screeched when Bakugou started pinching his bottom ribs.

“I mean, I suppose I could also tie you up if I really wanted to be mean. But that’s your call, and you can’t talk right now, so I’m not going to assume anything.”

Kirishima started to bring his arms down again, then settled for covering his face with them. His laughter was loud and crazy, even behind Bakugou’s palm over his mouth. The blonde smirked down at his friend, marveling at how much he seemed to enjoy this, despite the obvious ticklish distress he was in.

“You’re probably thinking, ‘I thought you said you wanted to hear me laugh? Why are you covering my mouth?’ Right?” Bakugou chuckled. “I do want to hear you laugh. But it’s so much fun to make you desperate first. You’re just dying to let it out now, aren’t you? No more holding back?”

Kirishima managed a split-second glare in the midst of his muffled hysterics before nodding frantically.

“That’s what I thought.” Bakugou finally pulled his hand away and used both hands to rake up and down Kiri’s ribs.

“SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMEWHEHEHEHERE ELSE!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, PLEASE GO SOHOHOHOMEWHERE EHEHEHEHEHELSE!!”

Bakugou laughed. “What’s wrong? Can’t take it here anymore? But I want to hear you laugh, Kirishima.”

“I AHAHAHAHAHAHAM LAHAHAHAHAHAUGHING!!” Kiri screamed, his arms flailing wildly above him. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKUGOU!!”

“Honestly, I’m just trying to find the technique that will make you bring your arms down to stop me,” the blonde said with a shrug. “So I can make it worse.”

Kiri’s laughter was wild already, and they were only a few minutes in. He squealed and shrieked and thrashed and kicked but – somehow – kept his arms above him the entire time. Bakugou was impressed. That had to take serious effort on his part.

Now, how to break that concentration?

He’d tried kneading, pinching, and raking – all obviously effective forms of ticklish torture. But nothing had made Kiri’s fight-or-flight instinct kick in the way he’d hoped it would. What was he missing?

“Oh, I think I know what will drive you nuts.” Bakugou laughed, suddenly leaning down to blow the longest raspberry he could manage on Kirishima’s bottom ribs. Sure enough, not a whole second had gone by before he felt Kiri’s hands grabbing at his hair frantically.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DOHOHOHOHOHON’T DO THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!!”

“Well, well. I told you to keep your arms up.” Bakugou smirked, grabbing Kiri’s wrists and pinning them to the mattress by his sides. “Now I’ll have to punish you.”

Kiri gasped for breath while he could, his eyes wide and cheeks pink and hair wild, but behind it all, it was obvious to Bakugou that his best friend was having the time of his life. He couldn’t believe he’d made him wait this long. Made him practically beg for something as simple as a good tickling.

“Y-You’re gonna…b-break me,” Kiri stammered between breaths of air, sounding surprised. “I w-won’t be able to…to take it at this rate!”

“That’s the idea, isn’t it? You wanted me to destroy you, right?”

Kiri beamed. “Yeah.”

“Still good to go?”

“Yeah!”

Bakugou took a big breath, then blew another raspberry. Then another, then another, then another. Then he got to work absolutely destroying Kirishima with tickle torture, digging into his underarms and sides and hips and knees and feet, but especially his ribs, until the minutes added up and added up for nearly an hour, and by the time they were done Kirishima was laughing so hard his voice was giving out and tears streamed down his cheeks and he was pounding the mattress as desperately as he could to gain some shred of mercy from the tickle monster that was Katsuki Bakugou.

And when it was all over and Bakugou finally relented, Kirishima kept giggling even without the tickling stimulation, shaking his head in disbelief and gasping for oxygen. “I c-can’t…breheheathe…”

“You asked for it,” Bakugou reminded him, but he couldn’t help but grin at the mess he’d made of his closest friend. “And I promise, the next time you ask for it, I won’t hesitate to do this to you again. And again and again. As many times as you ask for it, I’ll destroy you, Kiri.”

“W-What about…playful tickles…?”

“Those, too.” Bakugou nodded. “I swear I’ll stop being an idiot about this. You ask, I’ll answer. I promise. I won’t ever let you give me the silent treatment again. I’ll be a best friend worthy of the title.” He wanted to cringe at himself for saying it, but it was all true, and besides that, Kirishima’s response was more than worth it.

“You were already a great best friend,” the redhead replied tiredly, lifting his head off the pillow to grin at him. “This just makes you that much better. Thank you, Katsuki. Seriously.”

Bakugou swallowed, feeling a little awkward due to all the sentiment in the room. He nudged Kiri’s leg. “Thanks for putting up with me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Sure you do. You’re a little rough around the edges but you’re a cool dude, King Explosion Murder.”

Bakugou’s lips twitched. “I told you if you called me that again there would be consequences.”

“Yeah?” Kiri chuckled. He leveled a clear, challenging smirk at the blonde. “Prove it.”

[therealtsk]

tsk i’m DYING to hear your play-by-play on which worm characters have dumb fanon interpretations

UH OH YOU JUST OPENED THE FLOODGATES so the short answer is pretty much every major character but I am a high-effort bitch so let's do this: Taylor Hebert: jfc, I could probably hit a word count limit talking about Taylor alone. First you have the dumb as shit TINO (Taylor In Name Only) phenomenon where people just straight up SI as Taylor but pretend it's her and she's basically a different person wearing Taylor's skin like an ill-fitting suit. Then there's the Memetic Escalator Taylor interpretation where Taylor's Warlord era characterization is flanderized so hard that she turns into her world's version of Doomguy where her response to literally everything is ultra violence, mutilation and torture and she can totally beat up anyone you guys hahah coin sock goes brrrrr you go brutalize those totally deserving victims queen. And then there's shy, stuttering, soft spoken "useless lesbian" Taylor which is not as common but still, fuckin straight men and the way they infantize gay women. Taylor is perhaps the most consistently inconsistent characterization I've seen in fandom, it's fucking wild Lisa Wilbourn: Has two fanon settings. Taylor's best friend who exists solely to give exposition and get the "Stop Coil" subplot rolling (occasional gay subtext will be added in a way that feels fetishy) Or, the evil bitchy blonde who is first target of the SI. I constantly wonder if the people who write the frankly masturbatory SI's are aware that we can tell they're still bitter about girls not dating them in highschool. Brian: basically does not exist in fic aside from the occasional joke cause racism and also because of how popular wlw ships are in Worm fandom. you deserve better dude Alec: has a few token appearances in wormfic fandom that usually have him as the comic relief alongside Aisha, which might actually be for the best considering he's a rapist and the Worm fandom's uhhhh tendencies. Moving on- Aisha: prankster girl that alt!Taylor will adopt as a younger sibling. hopefully is not part of the totally-not-a-harem considering she's even younger then the rest of these teens Bitch: Another girl to fall into alt!Taylor's definitely-not-a-harem, but with more butch tendencies. Basically has no personality in fanon outside of her dogs Parian: SHE DOESN'T HAVE A SHOP FFS also another member of Taylor's totally-not-a-harem Flechette: yeah it's a harem Sophia: holy shit you think Brian's bad? The racism in pretty much every fanon depiction of Sophia is off the charts. Hyper-violent, super edgy, "predator/prey" speech inbound, will get humilated/killed in some new, supposedly satisfying but actually just deeply uncomfortable way, probably throw in some E88 shit too just because Emma: again, do the writers know we can tell they're still malding over the fact that the pretty girls in highschool didn't date them? fanon emma is pretty much a cardboard cut out of whoever was mean to the author. something something bitches three Madison: in fanon has a C53 fetish, occasionally is also Browbeat. don't ask why Victoria: gets hit with the blonde stereotypes even harder then Lisa, "Collateral Damage Barbie" is one of the phrases that activates my flight or fight responses. she basically is an entirely different character in fanon. bubbly dumb blonde girl with a massive temper and well other sexist bullshiit Amy: I hate even touching this character with a ten foot pole but basically is hit with the "soft useless lesbian" trope hard enough to make her into a completely separate person from her canon self. whether or not this is a good thing is still up for debate Carol: in fanon, an evil bitch who exists solely to bully Amy Mark: who? The rest of New Wave: cannon fodder for Leviathan Danny Hebert: literally stale milk instead of a personality, will probably die before the fic is over but we won't care because the author did not care either Armsmaster: hahaha robotman go brrrr or is an arrogant self-aggrandizing shit, can't interact with people without Dragon helping him 24/7 Miss Militia: fanon bat'd into team mom,

idk where this came from considering her first instinct upon seeing children is to pull out a gun holy shit wait is she actually Taylor's true mom- Velocity: canon fodder for levi Battery & Assault: sitcom wife, sitcom husband! please ignore how fucked up this relationship is if you look at it for more than two seconds Dauntless: haha armsy is JEALOUS also cannon fodder for levi Triumph: who? The BB wards in general tend to be incredibly bland, the only ones who have fanon personalities of note are Clockblocker and Vista. The former being such a huge prankster that every other line is a joke- or him complaining about how BULLSHIT Alt!Taylor's powers are. Vista is an angry kiddo who says that Shadow Stalker doesn't count as being a girl on the team The E88: no personality for any of them except that Kaiser is noble and really isn't that bad and also Purity did nothing wrong totally she's just a hot mom trying to do her best, please ignore how she exclusively targets characters of color and literally calls white criminals more civilized than miniorities- the worm fandom has something of a nazi problem i hate it here The ABB: racism and honorable samurai lung even though that has no canon basis so again, racist stereotypes The Slaughterhouse 9: This one makes me just as sad as the Lisa shit because dear god this is such a good cast of villains that fanon completely flattens to bowling pins for the Alt!Taylor of the week to mow down, why does this fandom suck so much. Anyway Jack is just the Joker, Crawler is masochistic, etc i'm moving on now The PRT/Protectorate as a whole: They are an evil paramilitary organization that pressgangs kids into signing up to become child soldiers, and somehow at the same time, they are a bunch of idiots who listen to the PR department and have stupid things like RULES that prevent capes from COMMITTING VIOLENCE. Being called "the biggest gang of all" is common and some shit like "at least the criminals are honest" is a likely statement. Cauldron: whoo boy this one really boils my blood but fanon Cauldron are just a bunch of evil idiots who can't even tie their shoelaces. basically a bunch of dudebros are upset that women run the world and that two of them essentially have "I win" powers so they have to make them lose to their SI- er, Taylor in fics so they can assuage their masculinity, which totally isn't pathetic Scion: Is at once the end all be all of worm you can't write a wormfic without scion or else it's TOTALLY MEANINGLESS because what is the point of a story if all the characters are going to DIE in a few years anyway, and at the same time is incredibly easy to defeat- this ties into how Cauldron is stupid. Scion Truthers pls shut up and go read something else okay I think that's everyone I would apologize but the only thing I'm sorry for is how messy this is

[renaroo]

Other History? More Like Other MYSTERY

as in it’s a MYSTERY how the hell this got past an editor the week before Pride Month are you fucking kidding me?

I was kind of hoping for more than like... a week of being back on tumblr before I breathed fire and ripped a comic book to shreds. But we all know why I’m here.

There are so many preemptive things to get out of the way before I rip into this thing...

John Ridley as a writer in other forms of media has been incredibly accomplished and an important additional voice to entertainment industries. I do not wish to take away from that or to minimize the impact of voices like his.

But, you know, he’s a voice in media. Not the end-all, be-all to all marginalized people worldwide who can substitute his perspective for any nonwhite straight male voice. And I don’t think that has ever been more apparent than the continued spiral down the drain that has been every issue of The Other History of the DC Universe since the first. 

DC’s “new” approach to everything being canon and everything mattering is dumb and filled to the brim with ways it’s going to backfire and reveal itself to be the eye sore of publications that it’s aiming for, but I was curious to see how they would try to incorporate these characters’ long and contentious histories in the comics with the real world issues they often were billed to tackle, and try to fit it into the current pop culture landscape. That was the whole reason I had my eye on this comic to begin with.

By the second issue we were getting some stark warning signs because as much as I appreciated hearing an authentic perspective on how the Teen Titans brand carried on while neglecting its landmark Black teen heroes (Mal Duncan and Karen Beecher), there was a note of cruelty added to the issue that felt otherwise misplaced and uncharacteristic of the tone being set. 

There was no reason to have a significant portion of that issue dedicated to Mal and Karen’s monologues taking some aggressive words out on Roy Harper specifically for being an addict. 

Perhaps it was a quirk of writing from a flawed perspective or a show of how righteous upset and anger could be turned outward to other people suffering in a vy for your own empowerment. 

I’m now pretty sure that wasn’t it at all. I’m pretty sure because it kept getting worse every issue and it’s culminated in today’s issue where the retelling of Renee Montoya’s story managed to be petty, cruel, shockingly pro-police brutality int its adulation of Jim Gordon and especially Harvey Bullock, and managed to make a well-rounded and very beloved Latina lesbian and just retrofit every stereotype she never had before to her without regard for what it did to her story or to the stories of people around her. 

Honestly, lapsed faith and a poke at the damage that Catholic guilt can have on especially queer believers is kind of my jam, so it’s not that I wouldn’t be down for a story with that perspective. I could even understand exploring that with Renee. But not at the expense of her established history.

Which is a question all of its own. Here we have the skeletal structure of Renee’s life events that we have read before (in much better stories), but they are surprisingly out of order and also shockingly twisted in a way to make EVERYONE as unpleasant as possible. 

And in a way that has convinced me that either John Ridley has never read comics featuring Renee, or that he was mandated to change things that had no business being changed.

According to this issue Renee hated Batman and other superheroes? Which, ah, I don’t even know where that could come from. Ever since the animated series where she got started, Renee’s whole bag has been “the acolyte of Jim Gordon, only other cop who supports Batman”. Like I don’t even know how you get around that.

But according to Ridley she’s hated them all along as an extension of her internalized homophobia and self-loathing. Great.

What follows out of that is that apparently? Renee and Batman specifically butted heads over wanting to rehabilitate Harvey Dent? As in Renee wanted to help him and BATMAN was the one flipping out and saying Harvey was a sociopath and couldn’t be helped.

Like. I’m starting to question if Ridley has read Batman comics before. I don’t know where that interpretation could possibly come from? Bruce and Harvey were friends? Bruce has always held out hope for saving Harvey from his psychosis? It’s like. THE storyline for Two-Face.

The cop stuff... I don’t really know how to talk about the cop stuff to be completely honest. If you mention the LA Riots on one page and a few pages later try to frame it so that over policing and methods of brutality weren’t a thing until 9/11... I don’t know what to say to you. 

I’d say maybe I was being ungenerous here except there were two characters who got entire full page spreads about what good cops they were. And one of them was goddamn Harvey Bullock with the explicit commentary that Renee USED to be uncomfortable with his torture methods and general brutality but figured it was “okay” because he knew how “innocent people screamed different” and that he “never collared someone and it didn’t stick” because. Y’know. Police violence and falsifying evidence never go hand in hand. what the actual fuck ever right?

The timeline for Renee and Kate’s relationship is also completely changed which means that we get to add a trope I just LOVE as a lesbian personally, which is that lesbians can’t keep relationships and can’t keep from cheating on their loving partners. Especially when they are butch. 

And I’m not talking about Renee cheating on Kate. Oh, no. Ridley decided Kate was the Other Woman during Renee’s relationship with Daria. 

And just.. the cruel commentary that Renee had about both Kate and Daria throughout. It made my skin crawl. The way she talked about other women in general made my skin crawl. “Uncomplicated women” “Broken souls” “Can’t be with someone better than yourself”

So I actually planned to go into a full rage post about just the queer content because 1. my lane and 2. it honestly affected me so bad I was shaking and tearing up in anger a bit. Every single friend I know who loves Kate and Renee, see themselves in Kate and Renee, have been the same kind of mess I am after this.

The NASTINESS of the internal monologue. I don’t know how to explain it more than this is how poorly men think of flf and to have one use a character so meaningful to the community to spout this hatefulness has revolted me in a way I... haven’t had happen to me for a while.

I was going to talk about the weirdness of just... randomly deciding to retcon Renee’s parents into being undocumented when that’s never been a thing before and just doing NOTHING with it the whole while after. Or how it’s pretty questionable how Renee suddenly became so adherently Catholic when it’s never been portrayed like that before (that’s Hel B’s bag, JPV if you squint) but it’s entwined with any of her commentary on her ethnicity p sus too but I don’t have the nuance for that discussion right now.

Rena Rants are back and what a fucking JOKE this comic was. 

I didn’t pay for it and neither should you.

P.S. bringing back Tim Fox and calling him “Jace” is dumb as fuck too

[unchartedthelostlegacy]

Chlodineweek Day 3: Reunion

It was good that Windows XP somehow didn’t notice that she had already failed at entering the correct password five times. 

Chloe gritted her teeth and glared back down at the keys, and began to peck at them one at a time like they were the platforms she’d jumped across in the axe fortress.

Tommyiscute2003.

Wrong.

TommyIhateyou03.

Wrong.

“How important is this?” Nadine called from Chloe’s childhood bed. She was flipping through an ancient Shonen Jump.

“Oh, don’t even start.”

“Why can’t you access it on your phone?”

Chloe touched her lips. “I think I wrote it...in my diary.”

“Frazer, let’s look at the Neopets on your phone and be done with it. You know they’re all dead anyway.”

Her casual tone made Chloe bristle all over again. She didn’t even remember what had started the argument. It had to have been something about Nathan Drake. Their entire trip back home to Chloe’s mum’s house in Australia’s capital had been peppered with back-and-forth character assassination focused on which of them had neglected and starved her Neopets more.

“You’re going to be dead before my Neopets are,” Chloe retorted, pushing back her hair, and noticing Nadine had slid off the twin bed and was rooting around in the drawers. “Excuse me, I didn’t give you permission to--”

“Find this?” Nadine tossed a book at her.

Chloe recognized it the moment it hit her hands. A pink-and-blue diary with a cute lock on the cover.

“I’m assuming you still have the key, Frazer?”

“Oh give me all of three seconds,” Chloe said with a chuckle, sitting and pulling the lockpick from her hair. “These are never--” click. “Here we go. Ah, it’ll be on the last page...I think.”

Nadine had rested her arm across the chair and around Chloe’s shoulders. “What’s that drawing?”

“That is me.”

Nadine’s laughter was scoffing. “And--and the hair?”

“That’s what I looked like,” Chloe paged away from the emo self portrait. “Makeup and all.”

“Oh, that hasn’t changed.”

“Very funny.”

Nadine leaned forward. “Who’s this Tommy you mention on every page?”

“You can actually read that? I’m impressed. I definitely have better handwriting now--”

“Chloe?’

Somehow, they hadn’t noticed footsteps on the stairs and down the hallway, but the click of the door made them both jump.

Chloe’s mother walked in, holding some mail, and blinked. Why would they have a guilty conscience now? Why did it feel like they’d been interrupted in something important and bad?

They were only two grown adults trying to break into an ancient computer because Neopets wasn’t mobile-optimized, after all. Chloe wanted to hiss to Nadine that her job was the lookout, but Nadine looked more terrified than Chloe had ever seen her; she had just about hopped back from the chair.

“Something came for you,” Leah Frazer said.

“I...see that,” Chloe said, hand going to her hair. “You can leave it, mummy.”

“Think it’s from your school.”

“From...which school?”

Leah shrugged her shoulders. “The uni you never went to? It’s from Tim M. Pierce High.”

And she wonders why I never visit. Chloe stood, pushing her hand through her loose, damp hair one last time, reaching out for the envelope with the familiar emblem in the corner.

She’d worn it on her silly skirt-and-polo uniform all those years ago, fighting its conformity with home-dyed streaks in her sharply cut hair and her eyeliner even more intense than she wore now. She might have switched it up with novelty contact lenses sometimes too--she wasn’t proud of that--but she could stop a black-pentagon-bedecked ball with one black-nailed hand and aced all her history tests.

Yes, Chloe remembered Tim M. Pierce, and she also remembered opting out of another few years of being treated like she was weird and dumb.

“Are they...asking for donations? Or something?”

“I think it’s an invitation,” Chloe’s mother said. “Might be having the reunion soon.”

“The reunion,” Chloe said, as if the word was foreign to her.

“Nice timing, isn’t it? You being back for the first time in forever. You could go.”

Chloe breathed out sharply through her nose as her mother closed the door and her footsteps paced back down the hall.

Nadine leapt in front of her. “Let’s go to a hotel, ja?”

“Are you scared of her, love? She’s not going to kill us.”

Nadine shook her head so emphatically Chloe actually had to look up from turning the envelope around in her hand. “She doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like me here.”

It took a long, embarrassing moment for Chloe to even pick up on what she meant.

“Oh. No, no,” Chloe laughed, waving her hand and turning back. “No, she’s mad at me, honey. Because I haven’t been in awhile and--”

“Frazer--”

“Nadine this is my mother. She doesn’t even know--no. She had--you’ve misjudged her.”

Nadine said, flatly, “I’ll find one myself.”

“Nadine, she’s not like that. She’s just snappy. I--I get it from her,” Chloe said, sitting back down. “Where were we? Oh yes, let’s find the password.”

“You didn’t even call ahead to tell her we were coming?”

Chloe felt the nerves in Nadine’s voice, but she also felt sick that her mother had inadvertently upset her. “I’ll talk to her, Nadine. I’ll tell her to--”

“No, no, no!” Nadine was really losing it, wasn’t she, wandering around the emo-band-poster-walled fortress with her face in her hands. “Don’t say it. Don’t say I told you to--that she--”

“Was making my partner uncomfortable?”

“Ja, that’s what you don’t tell her. Do not tell her that.”

“Oh relax,” Chloe said. “Between you and Nate, she’d throw him out of the house first.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That she judges character. Well. About that. You wanted to know about Tommy?” Chloe held out the open journal, showing a double-page spread of a crude drawing of a boy and her very impractically dressed self, holding hands. “He was my widdle baby crush. Mum didn’t like him.”

“Was he the psychopath type you always go for?”

Chloe laughed. “He was a good student. Squeaky-clean. She still hated the sight of him.”

“Ja, your drawing doesn’t really sell him either.”

Chloe returned fire by throwing the entire journal back at Nadine, who snatched it out of the air and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, glancing back at the door. Chloe turned back to the keyboard and typed the password that had been scrawled beneath the drawing:

ChloeAndTom4ever.

“Open sesame,” she said, as the startup noise pinged and the cursor did its loading animation.

“You think he’ll be at the reunion?” Nadine said.

“Oh, who goes to those? Did you go to yours?”

“My schools didn’t have them.”

“Well,” Chloe chuckled, but it was flat, nervous, “I didn’t enjoy my time at school, and I don’t see why I would want to be reminded.”

“Maybe he’s still single.”

“I doubt it. He’s balding and divorced, Nadine, one hundred percent. Crushes in your teen years do not hold up. Ah, here. Just...click on internet explorer...”

“God this is ancient,” Nadine muttered, having come over to hover at Chloe’s shoulder again. “Does it even have an antivirus?”

Chloe hovered the mouse over the taskbar. “McAfee.”

“Oh,” Nadine said. “Then, no.”

“I used the same password for Neopets! Let’s see. Oh. Well, the map is different. Didn’t it use to have Mcdonalds?”

Nadine bumped her arm. “I thought you called it Maccas or something here?”

Chloe squinted at her and said, “‘Didn’t it use to have Maccas?’”

Nadine’s laugh was worth it, even as Chloe reached up and gave her a poke in her stomach. Nadine held her stomach and flopped back on the bed. Chloe loved Nadine’s laugh to pieces, loved how it completely overcame her.

“See? My Neopets are all here. Nadine, pull yourself together!”

Nadine did, eventually, and came over to peer at the screen, at Chloe’s five Kaus and two Kougras of varying shades. “Starving. Starving. Starving,” Nadine recited, hovering the mouse over all of them. “Great parenting, Frazer.”

“All right, but they’re not dead, are they? I’ll just go get a free omelet and feed them now,” Chloe said.

“They’re not even wearing any clothes.”

“They’re animals, silly. They don’t wear clothes.”

Nadine snapped, “Let me log in.”

And Chloe had to stare at four perfectly dressed Mynci. Skirts, hats, entire outfits. And they were all fed.

“Someone,” Chloe said darkly, standing and grabbing Nadine’s shoulders, “Waited for me to fall asleep on the plane and logged into her account on the sly--”

“Or maybe I’m just proper at Neopets, Frazer?”

Nadine grappled her back, and they fell onto the twin mattress, giggling and slapping at each other.

“You didn’t even know they could wear clothes. All of them can wear any clothes--” Nadine was saying, as Chloe shook her by the shoulders, “not like those MMO’s that gender-lock everything--oh shit it’s your mum again--”

Nadine said the last few words lightning-fast, trying to separate from Chloe, who only grabbed her tighter, and they both tumbled to the carpet as Leah Frazer walked in.

“What are you doing. Chloe, I swear to God,” the woman said, setting a pitcher of lemonade down by the computer with two glasses. “Stop hitting Ms. Ross. You never grew up.”

“We weren’t fighting.”

“Oh come off it,” she said. “And get these posters off the walls. It feels like these freaks are about to stab me every time I walk in here.”

“You could have taken them off,” Chloe said, struggling to keep Nadine pinned to the fluffy floor. “Could have made it a nice guest room, chucked all my stuff in the bin--”

“So dramatic,” Leah said, taking her elbow and forcefully pulling her off Nadine. “And immature. Where did you get these cuts?”

She looked at Nadine too, taking her wrist, searching for the scabs that hadn’t quite healed off in the week or two since the end of their adventure in India. Nadine had treated hers, but Chloe’s definitely had worsened. “What were you doing there?”

“Mum, you remember how it was, the mosquitos--” Chloe said.

“Tree branches,” Nadine said tightly.

“--hiking is a--a contact sport--”

“You’re both lying,” Chloe’s mum said. “And to think you brushed it off when I told you about that insurrection. I was watching the news getting worse and worse and you didn’t even call to let me know you were all right, Chloe Frazer.”

The woman headed back to the door, but remembered something, as parents will after having already scolded you, and turned back. “Maybe you can show those photos at the reunion. They’re gorgeous.”

“Mum, I told you, nobody there was on my wavelength.”

Nadine burst out laughing.

A very rare smile came to Leah Frazer’s face. “Well, they usually allow a plus-one...”