#WE ALSO HAVE A GIANT PRETZEL TO MAKE LATER

[aintmyjewelry]

round 1 of food has been set out 🫡

[dgttwisted]

Matilda's friend

Matilda much like Malleus find it rather difficult to make friends because most are intimidated by her. her strength her magic capability and the intimidating arua she gives off a "if looks could kill" vibe.

but in realty that look is actually one of a sleep deprived fea that has a hard time articulating her feelings. despite such an aroura the cheerful Catar can be found chatting her up quite frequently.

"Matty! i found a cafe in town we have to check out later!"

"Mat Mat!! look they had these giant pretzels aren't they cool lets share!"

"Matty! you're not looking so good did you get enough sleep? here let me recommend you some podcasts to fall asleep to"

At first it was a mutual friend that invited him over now Catar comes of his own accord just to chit chat with her. she doesn't mind it she finds him quite refreshing to talk to even if a lot of the social lingo's go over her head. She still enjoys his company none the less

They also from time to time help each other out with things that the other struggle with.

"You will give me the details in which to track you down later!"

"yikes no thats to intense an you phrased it like your hunting them not that you want be there friend try something like this" clears his throat "your tots cool lets hang out later! i'll give you my contacts!~"

Matilda had a very serious dead pan expression "hmm this is proving difficult"

"don't worry Matty you got this try again"

She took a deep breath "you there child of man i find you a delight to be around I'd like to ask for your number so that we may converse later!"

"close lets try less intense"

i imagine them like that meme

Matilda: "excuse me he asked for no pickles"

[nashusglasses]

it's always a surprise when the tide comes in

note: this is a writing exercise for exposition. I hate hate HATEEEEE writing it!! it makes my skin crawl i just want everything to happen at once!!!! -_- anywho. this story is the background story of this drabble

i love the idea of gojo in an office setting bc he’s already so silly like that would be a 10 times silly buff. Also the thought of him and yuuji having deep conversations about pop culture scratches a very good itch in my heart :3

note 2: this is literally yuuji n gojo in this au im going to HURL !!!

PAIRING. gojo/reader SETTING. work husband au (or, "you keep being suggestive in front of all our coworkers to the point where everyone knows we're not dating but we COULD be and it's silly so I'll go along with it!!!! ...wait why are you asking me out on an actual date?" au) WARNINGS. twilight references. shitting as a threat. hime n gojo hating each other bc they both love oc =3= SUMMARY. He’s a liar, but only for good reason. WORD COUNT. 2.5k

Someone is going to die today.

You’d been so diligent in choosing your hiding spot in the break room fridge. Your one yogurt cup—the one with the strawberry bits swirled in the vanilla—sitting behind the giant bottle of mustard at the bottom of the fridge door shelf. Gone. You try in vain to scour for your snack, but there’s nothing else save for labeled Tupperware and three quarters of a cake from Mei Mei’s birthday celebration yesterday.

The list of culprits shouldn’t be that long, anyway. 

First: Nanami. He wouldn’t. Your boss is built on black coffee and the occasional vegan bao from the restaurant across the street. You’ve never seen him eat anything else.

Utahime, the freak owner of the mustard bottle because she eats it with her pretzels, is lactose-intolerant. There’s no way she’s risking an explosive gut when she’s always busy at reception. 

Nobara’s too new to the office to try inciting violence against her seniors. You’d probably let her off the hook, regardless—she’s too hardworking to stay mad at.

You’d brood more over The Case of Your Missing Yogurt, but Satoru’s loud talking at the lunch table cuts right through your ruminations.

“—like I know it’s personal preference, but I think it’s so lazy,” he grumbles. “My uncle: Hiro. His son? Hiro, junior. God. Corny people piss me off.”

“Right.” Yuuji, the other new junior associate, hangs off Satoru’s every word. “It’s kind of like Bella from Twilight.”

Satoru slaps the table with passion. Yuuji hastily clings to his cup of coffee from spilling over. “Exactly, Yuuji. Exactly! You named your kid not only after the dad but also your ex who wasn’t even your ex?! The combination didn’t even sound good.”

“Edward Jacob,” Yuuji recalls.

“Disgusting.” Satoru shivers. “I don’t—Jesus. Don’t let me think about that. It’s so vile.” 

You close the fridge door, trek a sad path to the chair next to Satoru. Yuuji gives you a quick smile. You decide to scheme your murder plan later, because now you just want to pinch Yuuji’s cheeks off—your juniors are so cute! “Hello,” he greets politely.

Satoru sneaks an arm around your shoulders, resting it on the back of the chair. “What’s up with you?”

Is your sadness that obvious? God, you were waiting for that yogurt all morning.

“I’ll tell you later,” you say, because you might start languishing if you think one more second about your lost snack. “Hi, Yuuji. What were you guys saying about naming babies?”

Satoru huffs. “I hate parents who name their kids stupid names.”

(Yuuji takes a sip of coffee.)

“You wouldn’t do that with our kids, right?” Satoru asks you next.

(Yuuji, promptly, chokes on his coffee.)

“Absolutely not,” you answer, just as nonchalant.

“Hek.” Yuuji dissolves into five seconds of hard coughing. “You—you two are married?”

“Nope,” you both chirp at the same time.

The poor boy just stares, coffee blushing on his shirt. “Ah,” he says. “I see.”

Satoru shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d have babies with her. But she makes my coffee wrong every time I ask for it. I don’t think I could share my bank account with someone like that.”

Yuuji looks at you for a response. You reach over to pat his hand. “Don’t listen to him. You just keep working hard. And don’t tell Nanami that we gossip too much.”

“Right. I guess—well.” Yuuji stammers. “Does..? Am I? Is this… a secret?”

He sticks a hesitant finger up, pointing it at you, then at Satoru. Satoru wiggles a finger right back.

“Whatever Utahime tells you is wrong,” Satoru says, and Yuuji stares at him like he’s waiting for an explanation, but all Satoru does is wave him off. “Lunch is done.”

“Oh. Right.” Yuuji stands up, bows quickly, then remembers his mug. He runs to the sink to drop it off, then says, “I’ll–I’ll be careful around Utahime!”

He doesn’t wait for a response; he scampers out the room like he’s got a secret to share. 

Satoru’s always been lax with new hires—you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d explained his entire life story to Yuuji in the last hour. But his ongoing charade of touting you as his much-more-than-coworker co-worker is the oldest secret of Office Drama there is.

Utahime, your best and first co-worker friend who worked in the same room with you as clerks. Satoru, whose first day was the last day of your probation period, booted her out of the office because she got the full-time reception position she applied for. He proved himself a competent coworker. Steadfast in work ethic, a little too up the ass about gelling his hair properly in the morning. Had to look good to do good, he claimed. 

Utahime’s been out for his ass ever since, complaining that he was using his good looks to steal you away from her. Satoru took the bait right away. Made it his mission everyday to make Utahime green with explosive jealousy for having taken her rightful spot as your Worker Bestie for the Resties.

It started with the little gestures. A gentle hand on your lower back when you passed by reception (Utahime, who zeroed in on the touch from her desk, scoffing loudly). Complimenting your outfit choice of the day (“I think she’s beautiful everyday!”). Making you laugh with his stupid Arnold Schwarzenegger impressions (she hated this the most; she said he sounded like an ugly troll). 

“That’s the love of my life you cad!” Utahime bellowed, once, when Satoru trailed after you from the elevator one morning. Nanami said she had to stop playing sad Drake songs every morning when you passed by her desk because the melancholy brought the office morale down.

“You know I take good care of her,” Satoru called back. “And nobody says cad anymore, harlot!”

(They insulted each other for two more minutes using outdated expletives. After Nanami came to intervene, you gave him five bucks for his vegan bao to calm him down.)

You don’t really know when Satoru’s attempts to establish workplace dominance turned into straight-up flirting, though. Utahime didn’t need to be around anymore for him to butter you up. He’d leave little sticky notes he left on your monitor to remind you about deadlines, the next fire drill, drawing those little hearts at the ends of his sentences. The hand on your back turning into an arm draped on your shoulder. 

You told Utahime about it when Satoru took a sick day. She was livid. Then, immediately, she started tearing up.

“So I’m demoted from Bestie for the Resties and he’s trying to get into your pants?!” She moaned, sliding dramatically down her chair in the lunch room. “I’m going to pass away right now.”

“It’s not like he’s being serious,” you contended. 

Utahime gave you a hard look. “Please don’t tell me you actually believe that.”

You looked at her blankly. Wholly unfazed, because you really did believe Satoru had no other motive. He was just your stupid coworker–who sat across from you and did nice things and said nice stuff and you were pretty sure the older lady from accounting had a crush on him, anyway. 

“It’s nothing,” you decided, and Utahime shook her head, scoffing.

“Look. That garbage can’s been going after you since day one. You may not see it, but I have eyes, my pumpy-wumpkin bugaboo.” She tapped your nose. “You owe me twenty when you see I’m right.”

And that was all she had to say about it.

If anything, you figure it’s better for Yuuji to learn right from the source than be wrongfully convinced by Utahime that Satoru was a piece of shit homewrecker who lived to piss her off. Regardless of whatever lie is being fed to the junior staffers, there is one universal truth: you are the crowned jewel of this office floor, and that means everyone’s being lit on fire till you find the person who stole your fucking yogurt.

The second the door closes behind Yuuji, you glare daggers at Satoru. He still has his arm around you. 

“I might kill you,” you start.

“You say that everyday.” Satoru grins. “Don’t tell me the thought of having my babies scares you that much.”

Steam might actually blow out of your ears. “That’s not—stop trying to confuse me! My yogurt! It’s gone from the fridge!”

Satoru stares at you. Then his face morphs into a mix of shock and disbelief, and he screeches: “Are you saying I took it?!”

You sag in your seat, give him a look that tells him he should just confess before you find the closest sharp thing in this room. He just levels your stare with the same offended look, and you give in first because you don’t have time to argue anymore. Lunch really is over.

“Fine,” you sneer. “But if I find anything incriminating I will crucify you.”

Satoru fakes a shiver. “Ooh. Threaten me again. I can take it.”

He screams when you pinch the sensitive spot just below his armpit.

.

.

.

Right when the clock hits 4:59, Satoru hauls himself up from his seat. 

“Meet me outside. I’m getting my stuff then ripping ass in the bathroom,” Satoru tells you.

You snort. “Which one?”

“The one closest to the elevators.” In other words, right next to reception where Utahime is closing right now. Satoru is nothing if not calculating in his efforts to vex that poor woman. “See you.”

At this point in the day, the despair of losing your yogurt has simmered down to lazy indifference. You’ll just have to interrogate everyone tomorrow. Maybe print out a missing yogurt paper to stick on the fridge with no reward but your sincere gratitude and the promise to stick out for their missing lunch, should the same depravity befall them too. 

You turn your monitor off, make sure your desk is neat. Swiping off any crumbs from Satoru’s desk because he snuck in a sandwich today after forgetting to eat when he was talking to Yuuji.

And then you see it.

The silver shine of ripped plastic in the trash. 

At first, you’re skeptical. You’re too tired to spark another match of anger. But surely enough, when you hunch over to look, an empty can of yogurt sits innocent, perfect. All your strawberry vanilla goodness wiped clean.

You think of all the spectacular ways you could beat the shit out of Satoru, because he didn’t only lie; he thought you were stupid enough not to see the evidence right across from you. He could have at least thrown it into Mei Mei’s trash. Snuck it into Yuuji’s bag when he wasn’t looking. If there’s one thing you hate, it’s being underestimated.

So when you meet Satoru outside the elevators, the first thing you say is:

“You’re a giant fucking oaf and I want you to stay exactly one metre away from me till we get to our cars.”

He always parks his car next to yours.

“O-kay.” He puts his hands up in surrender, maintaining his distance. “Actually, that’s a good thing. My ass. It’s weeping. Ow.”

You quickly realize that this is the best course of action you could have taken, because you know the one thing Satoru hates, and it’s being ignored.

And you do it well.

“Your hair looks pretty today,” he says when you step out into the garage.

“I like the jeans you picked out,” he notes when you walk ahead without him.

“I’m going to crash my car into the first pole I see,” he whines the second you reach your car, and he traps you against the door with a hand pressed above the window. Distant enough to keep you comfortable, but you still feel more warmth than you’ve ever felt from him before. Like those slow burn romances where the lead slyly flirts with the pretty girl he’s been chasing for two seasons, except you’re one second away from kneeing his balls into painful oblivion. “Why are you being mean?”

You cross your arms. “Because you lied.”

“About?”

“You know what about!”

He clicks his tongue. Then his eyebrows lift in realization. “Ah.”

You wait for him to continue. Maybe you’d ask him to go down on his knees, get those nice linen pants dirty with grime and dust just to gloat about his passion for you and only you. You’ll partake in his drama for the sake of an inflated ego. But all he does is smile, and he’s got a handsome face, and for some reason, you’ve got nothing for rebuttal.

“So I have a confession to make,” he starts. 

You nod.

“I did eat your yogurt. Don’t say anything yet!” Satoru interrupts your open mouth. “I just. I didn’t think you’d be too upset.”

“Hm,” you concede. “Go on.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

This is too easy. You feel like an ant trapped in a glass jar. You’re used to the bickering, the roundabout conversation because somehow, he always makes you laugh. Your conversations are never serious. 

But this. This feels serious.

“How?” You ask, gut heavy with dread, anticipation.

“I’ll take you out for lunch,” he suggests, and you wait a heartbeat for him to tack on a sike, I’m broke, but he almost looks nervous. Like he wants so badly for you to understand something he knows so well. 

“It–um. Like… tomorrow we go across the street and get those baos Nanami loves so much?”

You’re stalling. Satoru laughs. You think you’re starting to like the way he looms over you like this.

“Like on the weekend, I pick you up, and we both look pretty, and you say you’re paying but then I slap your hand away from your card, and I pay because I need to give you a good impression,” he rambles.

“You don’t need to give me a good impression.” You’re almost breathless. “You–you…”

Satoru tilts his head, and it’s annoyingly charming. “Me?”

“I thought–I thought we–this is just–it’s you and me?” You stumble. He watches you shift your feet. Takes his hand off your car, uncrosses your arms with a tug on your wrist. You think he’s about to hold your hand, but he pulls away at the last second.  

“It’s always been you and me,” he repeats. Then scratches the back of his head because you think he’s floundering, too. “Just not for everyone else this time.”

You think you might genuinely explode. All your synapses stretch to the absolute limit, you’re almost convinced you’ll bleed from your ears. “You’re being serious.”

He nods. There’s zero indication that he understands the gravity of the situation. But it’s quiet in this garage. You hear it then, the tapping his shoe makes when he’s impatient.

“When–when you told Yuuji about sharing bank accounts,” you continue.

“Okay I’m not in that deep,” Satoru defends. “Well. Who knows. Maybe I could be.”

You shove his shoulder. “You can’t just say that!”

“You’re so violent.” He rubs the spot you’ve tainted. As if you did any damage. He’s just doing it to fuck with you. “Do you hit all the guys you’re into?”

“Are you trying to make me say no?” That’s a lie. You know this. You’re just still in shock that you might actually owe Utahime twenty bucks. Satoru clicks his teeth.

“Look. You don’t have to answer me now. And I’ll buy you your yogurt back.” He digs in his bag, taking his car keys out. “Just… let me know, okay?”

He lingers in his spot. He’s not the main character in this romance scene, though. It’s you, the unforgiving lead who can’t decide what they want for themselves, and when the opportunity comes for a new start, they stand frozen in time. All those past mistakes a whirlwind behind you, threatening your security, and the glass breaks, and all of a sudden you’re in a garage, making a fool of yourself in front of the character who never deserved a bad ending. You wouldn’t do that to him.

“If I say yes,” you murmur. Satoru perks up instantly. “Can I choose where we go?”

“Depends. Do they have free ice cream for dessert?”

Of course that would be his only stipulation. You’re glad he’s easy to feed. “Probably.”

Satoru nods. He clicks his car unlocked. “If you say yes,” he repeats, rounding the back of his car to the driver’s seat, “I’ll go anywhere for you.”

He leaves you gawping. You watch him open his door, sit down. Adjusting the air conditioner high because you know he’s always blasting it. He doesn’t roll the window down to say bye, just pulls from his spot, and you mind your feet, mind the way he waves at you, but not as enthused as he usually is with it.

You stand there, thinking about your yogurt, and about Utahime’s face when you tell her you’ll say yes.

[invisiblegarters]

Hidden Agenda Ep 3

Time for real dating that Joke badly disguises as fake dating shenanigans! I am here for it.

Is it just me, or are a lot of GMM boys lefties? I started noticing it in Enchante and now my head just won't stop noting all the left handed writers (although I guess in Enchante it could have just been for the "mystery").

Ah, posture training. I remember that not so fondly. Although I will say I am grateful for it. I may not sit with the best posture anymore (I tend to pretzel), but I do walk well. And thankfully the person who taught me wasn't whacking me with a giant stick.

Shopping date!

"Fashion isn't about price tags; it's about taste." True, actually, but also. Sometimes your taste exceeds your means.

Aw Joke full on lost his breath for a second there. I don't think Zo looks particularly gorgeous in this outfit but who am I to judge, really? I'm not the one with the giant crush.

I also feel like comfort does have something to do with it. I am making no claims to being the arbiter of taste, but I do feel like if someone feels self-conscious in a thing it will detract from how good they look because they will keep doing things like tugging at their clothes, etc.

Well look at that handsome dude. I love how both of his friends' jaws drop like "who is this person and what have you done with the old one?" But it's a good look on him.

And yes, Pat totally knows about Joke's crush. No way he'd be reacting that way if he didn't. He knows and he's rooting for Joke, for whatever reason. I wonder if we'll get more background on that later.

Fine tune the details indeed. This is totally a date that Joke is going to pretend isn't a date.

Yep this is a date. Zo is not going to cotton on to the fact that it's a date, but it's a date.

The restaurant is pretty. The date advice isn't bad but also, it's still good to think about what she might like. I think that it was sweet that he tried to think of somewhere Nita would be interested in going, but one thing that neither of them are considering is that he could always ask where she wants to eat.

This poor smitten boy. He's so far gone he keeps losing his breath and Zo's just here like "you okay, friend?"

"All due respect to Aphrodite, but she was stupid. I would never leave someone I loved alone like that."

Is that not what he said?

THE PINKIE THING I CAN'T. It's so good. Look, I adore the longing looks and the stares and the way that Joke keeps trying to be cool and failing utterly, but the pinkie thing is so deliciously subtle and just rocked Zo's world completely off of its axis. It basically drop kicked him out of his all too comfortable oblivion and straight into awareness. That there's been something between him and Joke this whole time I think is obvious, but now he's finally aware of it, at least on his side. And Joke is so obvious I doubt it will take Zo long to pick up what he's putting down, now that he is primed to look for it. Primed to want to look for it. Plus there's just something about a soft touch that speaks of repressed longing that does it for me.

Laughing forever at Zo's attempt to try to recreate the atmosphere he had with Joke with Nita, and her reaction. My kind of girl, honestly. Nita is not the hopeless romantic that you think, Zo. That one is a little closer to home.

"All this random reading is fine and all but uh, aren't we here to do an assignment?" NITA. I love her.

Okay Joke is such a liar about not feeling fluttery feelings when he has a crush. But his attempts to comfort Zo are actually really sweet. His offended little look when Zo shoves his hand off of his shoulder is funny.

Now they're going on another date. I am pretty sure Joke has decided to drop subtlety completely at this point.

Part of me does have to wonder, though. The whole thing is about hidden agendas, and as much fun as it's been to watch Joke completely fail to keep his interest in Zo a secret, I can't help but think that maybe we haven't gotten everything.

Then again, maybe we have. Who even knows, really. It could just be pure fluff. I would not be upset about it at this point (although it will make me wish harder than ever that this were airing alongside a more dramatic offering from GMM, since the fact that I seem to be in the mood for it means that it would be the perfect thing to cut the angst I expect from stuff like Dangerous Romance or Only Friends. I love angst but even I need a palate cleanser on occasion), but I do wonder,

[mew-ya]

UGGH Maren maren I'm so excited to read this let me tell you. Going to give my play-by-play commentary.

So first off, I know I already gave some feedback on this cus I saw it in its early stages, but I just love this whole setup/vibe for young Maren. It feels very in-character for him to be the giant pokey dude with no one around him.

PUTTING OUT YOUR CIGARETTE ON HIM IS SO FUNNY OMFG and you know he'd be kinda in to that anyway from someone he's attracted to. also very fitting for him to be excited about a terrible pretzel, then get three of them.

"slightly garbled by his full mouth, which he does not hesitate to speak through" oh my god why is this so hot Maren I hate you. Also him insulting a band but also having a patch of it on his vest HES LITERALLY SO RELATABLE.

The lighter scene made me go OOHHH the SIZE DIFFERENCE I'm hooting and hollering. I hate/love how much I can relate to this reader lmao, I was the same way when I was in college--unable to do anything even if my mom couldn't even see it but desperately wishing I could just be myself. I wasn't as rebellious as them though, but god I wish I could've been.

The visual of sitting on Maren's flexed arm during a concert is truly adorable. Absolutely some shit he'd pull--if was sweatin he would never admit it haha. I enjoyed the bits of them enjoying the concert together, time spent together at a concert really feels like a different breed. Wish I'd been able to go to more when I was younger! The mosh scene was great too, reader kind of half trying to impress Maren but also just being genuinely curious and wanting to do it!!

Loved the detail of Maren finding perfect holes in reader's argument and them just being like WAIT. HES RIGHT? FUCK. Very Maren lmao, like I'd want to talk to him about my problems but I also think he'd make me cry (in a good way)

Him spreading the information about the band is so DGKHDFG tiny lil Maren and then the entire crowd rioting cus reader set them off is such a fun idea!! I can't help but go into panic mode in my own brain because I know how often this sort of thing leads to deaths by trample but I liek to think that the bigger guys here were very conscious of where they were walking. And LMAO of course Maren would've stolen a guitar, what a story it'd have now. I haven't really come up with any stories for where he got his banjo or guitar, this is makin me wanna cook up some ideas. Just like "Where'd you get that black guitar?" "Stole it" what." "From a pedo" "…what" "Stole it from a pedo" "…ok"

Oh good lord getting taught to play guitar IN HIS LAP IM SCREAMING thats so good…

I ended up reading the next bits really fast because they're super hot lol the kiss…the thigh…the dry humping size difference stuff <3 My shit!! I love the "just let me sit on you and you can get smaller and we can figure out the size" and then the riding him and him being like "ok my turn" DFKGHDFG RARRGH you got him so good!! I loved every moment of this fic, genuinely thank you so much for taking your valuable time and spending it writing my boy. This was such a fun and hot read!

i also loved the final bits -- i think the bittersweetness of it is awfully fitting for him, and the obvious loneliness hes experiencing. hes someone who spent most of his life not really being a consistent part of others lives aside from his pirate crew. kata was such a change for him. i'm interested to think of how this reader might react to seeing his wanted poster...and probably how amused they'd be many years later to find that he ends up marrying Katakuri, a man who is similar to reader but Worse(tm)

it makes me want to make more work of young maren & his interactions with the world since his life didn't really revolve around Katakuri/WCI shenaningans until later. (he did technically meet Kata when he was 28 but his memory gets wiped so not counting it)

"The Fall of Ideals"

Character: Maren (young adult version)

Reader: AFAB

Word Count: 11.3k

CW: recreational drug use, explicit N.SFW content, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, size difference/size kink

Summary: Going to the Riptide Rock Festival instead of studying for your exam was one bad decision. A chance encounter with a stranger leads you to making several more.

Ao3 Link

[Happy Birthday @mewiyev! I swear I'm normal about Maren (hides word count) >.> In all seriousness, I truly adore this amazing character that you've created and I hope that shines through in this gift! Thank you for sharing him with the world!]

“This next song has never been heard before!” The lead singer of Violincense announces into the mic, prompting screams of excitement from the crowd. “We’re debuting it here at Riptide, the single for our next album–we present to you, Smokescream!”

The sound drifts from afar as you hurry back toward the crowd, having left to throw away your empty cup between songs. A rookie mistake, you soon realized, as the crowd closed up behind you, and now you were having trouble penetrating the throng of bodies. Had you any experience with these things, you would have just held onto the damn cup. Now you’re going to miss getting a good view of the band for what is possibly history in the making. You know Violincense was on the cusp of making it big, and here was your chance to watch it happen, front and center.

The crowd had formed itself into groups roughly based on size, with the tallest people closer to the back and sides. Some people of average height opted to stay close to their big friends, often sitting on their shoulders. One especially big man even wore some kind of shoulder-mounted table, carrying six of his friends. You can't help but feel a little jealous as you squeeze past them. You’re here alone, after all.

“S’cuse me…” you mumble, feeling out of place. Everyone else was dressed in band shirts and worn jackets, spiked bracelets and collars and chokers. In comparison, you look plain, but even if the trip to this venue hadn’t been last minute, you would’ve had nothing to wear anyway. It wasn’t your wisest choice to abandon studying for your big upcoming exam and blow all your food money on tickets, travel, and board for a rock festival. But now that you're here, that all seems like minor worries, a drop in the bucket of life. Who knows when you would get to do something like this again?

The Riptide Rock Fest was one of the biggest rock festivals on the Grand Line. Sporting multiple stages across the grounds and a myriad of different tents, it was a three-day haven to all fans of rock music genres. Each day had one big headliner show in the evening, with lesser-known bands filling the side stages throughout the day. It was currently the second day of the festival, and Violincense was one of the small bands you had been especially excited for, so you were eager to get back to a good spot before they started.

Alas, you were still stuck behind a wall of taller folk, unable to see the stage. The sound of drumsticks striking each other sounded as the band counted off, before a heavy guitar riff started the song. You paused to take it in, then shook your head and kept anxiously making your way along the perimeter of bodies, unable to find your way in and too polite to push through.

Finally, you spot an opening: closer to the middle and slightly off to the side, there's a little bit of space. The only person there is one of the big people, some guy that has to be at least fifteen feet tall. For some reason, he's being given a wide berth by those around him, but you don’t give it any thought as you dart for that spot before it gets taken. 

As you get closer, you see the potential reason people are leaving him be: rows of large, menacing spines stick out of his back through his clothes. However, those spines are far too high up to be a danger to you, so you step into place next to him and are at last able to get a decent view of the stage. Up close, the man is even more massive–not just tall, but thick-bodied and muscular, his burly arms alone bigger than you are. You decide to just avoid eye contact and return your focus to the show.

Smokescream, like all of Violincense’s music, sucks you right in from the start. Hearing the band live is a completely different experience. Sure, a studio recording could let a band trim off the imperfections in the sound, but it isn’t the same. This was how music was meant to be heard, you think. The fast-paced, harmonic chords strike you personally, heavy drums feeling like they’re replacing your heartbeat. Swept up in the music,  you’re so invested you don’t notice that the huge man is staring at you until halfway through the song, when you glance and accidentally meet his eye.

You stare back for a moment, stunned. He’s astonishingly handsome, if not a bit intimidating; a broad jaw and strong nose that balanced his features well, long, reddish brown hair that matches the color of his spines, a simple goatee, and gauged ears. He's wearing a black leather vest covered in various patches, but no shirt, showing off his husky build, a pair of faded green cargo shorts, and platform boots adorned in belts. His light skin sports a fair share of bruises and he's a bit scuffed up, likely from a mosh pit. Unlike you, he looks entirely in his element. 

The man watched you with a sour, unimpressed look, eyes slightly narrowed. Suddenly self-conscious, you look away, distracting yourself by pulling out one of the spliffs you had rolled earlier from your pocket and lighting it. After a few hits, you’re able to relax a little more, turning your focus back to the stage. You don’t think about the man until the next song comes to a close, the crowd cheering on the tail end of the final notes, when he leans over slightly in your direction.

“Do you need something?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

It wasn’t just his spines that kept others away. You’re abruptly aware of the prickly energy he’s giving off, his tone as guarded as his body language. Still, you have no idea what he’s talking about, so you just give him a look of confusion in response.

“What are you doing here?” he presses.

You look over at the band, then back up at him. “...Is that a trick question?”

“I mean here, in this spot.” He points at the ground. “Do you normally make a habit of approaching strange men?”

“You talked to me first,” you point out, pulling the cig from your mouth.

“Everyone else got the damn hint,” he says gruffly.

“I’m too short to care about the spines,” you say, wondering what his problem is. “And anyway, I wasn’t aware you owned this section.”

He leans forward a bit more, towering over your space. “It ain’t the spines you gotta worry about, small fry.”

“What are you gonna do? Bite me?”

“That’s right.” He smiles, showing off pointed teeth. It's not a friendly smile, but it looks good on him anyway, though it makes you uncertain–he really is enormous, easily a threat to someone your size.

Maybe it’s because you’re in a new place, already out of your comfort zone. Maybe it’s the few beers already in you at that point. But instead of giving him space like a sane person would, you instead respond, “don’t threaten me with a good time.”

That makes him smile even wider, leaning forward just a bit more. “I’m part Fish-man, you know. My teeth are razor sharp.”

“Even better.”

He laughs, his face lighting up in his amusement. You feel your face get warm and quickly stick the cig back in your mouth before you say something else embarrassing. He has a nice laugh.

The band announces that they are playing their last song of the set. Neither you nor your neighbor speak for the entirety of it. Either he likes the music too much to bother you, or he decided you were alright after all; regardless, he leaves you alone until the song is over. After the cheering of the crowd dies down, he turns back to you.

“I gotta say, I didn’t expect that coming from you.”

You rub the back of your neck, distinctly aware how plain you look. “I know I’m not dressed for a concert. I don’t really own any band shirts.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not allowed.”

“Not allowed?” He suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Are you a teenager?”

“Nope. Just a college student with a ruthlessly strict mother.”

“She sounds like a bitch.”

“Don’t call my mom a bitch,” you snap, all playfulness gone.

He isn’t thwarted even slightly, lip curling into a sneer. Reaching out with one giant hand, he pokes you in the chest, easily making you stumble back and imposing the difference in your strength. “What are you gonna do about it, small fry?”

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you could have sworn he had gotten bigger. You falter for a second, shocked that he would get physical and a bit intimidated. Then you get mad. If he’s going to be a cunt, you would be a cunt right back.

You stub out your spliff on his finger, hearing it sizzle. The man jerks his hand back with a yelp. “Ow! Fuck!”

“I'm not gonna let you push me around,” you bluff, pretending to be braver than you are. Jerks usually prefer easy targets, but there's still a chance he might get aggressive. You bare your teeth and pray he's all talk. “We're surrounded by people. Try me.”

“Are you stupid?” he growls, cradling his burned hand. “You could get seriously hurt, messing with guys like me. Sheesh…and you still haven’t taken the hint.” He grumbles, sticking his finger into his mouth, but he does not do anything else, and you deflate a little in relief.

Violincense announces that they're playing an encore, and the crowd roars as they launch into a familiar track–one of their most popular songs, Nightingales.

Attempting to ignore your surly neighbor, you close your eyes to really take in your favorite part of the song. Then you stare at the stage intensely, trying to burn the image of the band playing it into your memory. As it comes to a close, you glance at the huge man again. He’s closed his eyes, too, a serene look on his face as he listens. Right then, you feel bad for him–he just wants to enjoy the music in peace, like you. Maybe you overreacted.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him once the music stops.

“Whatever,” he spits, then mumbles, “you must be lonely, talking to me.”

“Yeah, I am,” you shrug. “But I’d bet you are, too. I mean, have you heard these lyrics?”

He looks surprised that you’d admit it so casually. Then he huffs, looking away. “I know em’ by heart.”

The crowd starts to move around you as the band packs up their things. You stick your hands in your pockets, feeling awkward. “Hey, uh, look… I’m sorry I did that. Really. I’ll make it up to you,” you said. “Want a pretzel or something? I’ll buy.”

The man visibly perks up, giving you another look of surprise. He’s kind of cute like this…

“They’re stale and oversalted,” you say enticingly, offering a hesitant smile. “But the cheese dip is…well, it also sucks, but at least it’s hot.”

“Fuck yeah,” the man grins from ear to ear. “I won’t say no to free food.”

You both head to the food tents, introducing yourselves on the way. You learned his name was Maren–“just Maren,” as he said after you gave him your last name. A lot of the patches on his vest were of bands you liked, so you were able to find some common ground despite the rough start.

You ended up buying Maren three soft pretzel sticks, just because he was so much larger–it only seemed fair. His attitude did a complete 360 at that, thrilled at the gesture.

“Thanks,” he says, and you nod, pulling out a program flier to see where the next band you wanted to watch would play. Maren peers over your shoulder as he shoves a cheese-slathered pretzel stick into his mouth. “Where ya headed next?”

“South stage,” you replied. “Shitty Kitties is playing soon.”

“Hm,” his voice is slightly garbled by his full mouth, which he does not hesitate to speak through, “Shitty Kitties? Kinda gimmicky, don’t ya think?”

“They're cool! The lead singer is a puma zoan. He transforms his vocal chords to do these crazy growls.”

“Exactly. A gimmick, not real skill.”

“Who cares how he does it, so long as it sounds good?”

“He leans on it too much. He can’t sing for shit, small fry.”

“Small fry,” you echoe, “is that a Fish-man thing?”

“Because of your shirt,” Maren points. You’re wearing a graphic tee that has cartoon french fries and tater tots, engaged in a shootout and bleeding ketchup.

“This my favorite shirt,” you say defensively.

“You have dorky taste.”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?”

Maren grins. “Watch yourself, sweetheart. I haven’t decided if I’m going to eat you yet.” Despite his words, he’s less intimidating with a bit of cheese sauce smeared on his mouth.

“There you go again, threatening me with a good time,” you joke.

He smiles back, and your stomach does a weird little flip. For being kind of a jerk, he really is good-looking. Still, it’s probably in your best interests to wish him well and part ways here.

“Wanna go to the south stage together?” Maren asks.

“Yes,” you immediately reply.

You only made it to the Riptide Rock Fest by doing what you weren’t supposed to–what was one more bad decision?

Maren stuffs the rest of the food into his face, finishing it in two huge bites, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. You stare as he licks the sauce off his hand, following the trailing of his tongue. He meets your eyes as he does, grinning to himself when you break eye contact to look away and clear your throat.

“What is it, sweetheart? See something you like?” he teases.

“No–I wasn’t–you’re just messy,” you stammer, failing to save face. Trying to distract him, you point up at his vest. “Hey, isn’t that a Shitty Kitties patch? What gives?”

Maren looks a bit embarrassed. “That was from years ago. I’ve had this jacket for a long time–hey, don’t change the subject, now.”

Caught red-handed and losing your buzz, you start to walk away, feeling your usual shyness resurfacing now that the intoxication is wearing off. Maren follows you, hooking his thumbs into his pockets and chatting as you walk. He has no trouble making conversation, and picks up the slack where you falter. You find it easy to talk to him, and the more you talk, the more you want to know more about him. However, he dodges questions relating to himself, either outright ignoring them or just deflecting with more questions. By the time you make it to the south stage, you feel like you're talking about yourself too much, but he seems to prefer it that way.

“So where are your friends at?” Maren asks, as if it would be unthinkable for you to have come by yourself.

“Where are yours?” you try.

“Came alone.” It was the only direct answer from him in the last twenty minutes.

“Me too.”

“What, your friends don’t like rock?”

You shift from foot to foot, unsure how to respond in a way that doesn’t make you sound like a complete loser. “I don’t, uh… I don’t have any friends,” you admit. “Not where I live, anyway. After I graduated high school, mom moved us halfway around the world. Relocated to the best college she could find. I haven’t made any new friends since. Most students at that university are the entitled, wealthy type.”

“And you’re not?” Maren teases lightly.

You wrinkle your nose. “I got a full ride through scholarships.”

“Sure, sure,” he grins when you make a face at him, enjoying riling you up, “so you’re the nerdy type of smart! I knew it.” 

You doubt he really knew it, and are starting to wonder if he’s flirting with you. He seems to like your company, anyway. Oh, shit, is he flirting with you? 

Suddenly uncertain, you went for the only distraction you could think of, digging into your pocket for another pre-rolled spliff. “If I was actually smart,” you say, “I wouldn’t be here. I should be studying for this huge exam, but…” you trail off.

“But…?” Maren prompts.

“I felt like if I looked at one more book, I’d completely lose it.” You pat your pocket to search for your lighter. “All I ever do is study. I’m sick of it! I had to do something else or I’d snap. And I’ve always wanted to go to a concert–ugh, where the fuck is my lighter?”

Maren pulls a lighter from one of the many pockets on his shorts. “Here,” he says, crouching down low in front of you. You reach to accept the lighter from him, but he gently bats your hand away and instead holds the lighter up to your mouth. His hands are so large compared to the tiny spliff that he has to lean in close and focus, his tongue sticking out slightly. Carefully, he lights the spliff, his face filling your vision, and you find yourself staring again. The warmth from the lighter’s flame almost doesn’t register over your own heated cheeks.

“There we go,” he says, eyes darting up from the lighter to meet your own gaze. You glance away, the eye contact a bit much for you sober, and when you look back, he’s still leaning close, now smiling big. “Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you reply quickly. “You, uh, want a drag?”

“Depends. What’s in it?”

“Just weed and tobacco.”

“Hell yeah, hand it over.” 

You hand him the spliff, and he takes a deep drag, nodding to himself in approval. “This is good shit. You’re not as straight-laced as you seem, huh? Guess momma doesn’t know about this.”

“I have special hiding places for it,” you say. “No matter how much she digs through my shit, she won’t find it.”

“Sounds like you need to live on campus.” Maren passes the spliff back.

“I do,” you say bluntly, taking a drag and exhaling in a sigh. “She searches my things when she visits.”

“Yeesh. Why do you defend her?”

It’s not as simple as Maren makes it sound, and you aren’t sure how to put that into words. Luckily, before you can think of an answer, a familiar, high-pitched snarl echoes over the speakers. You look to the stage as the crowd cheers, but the view is completely obscured by other concert goers closer to Maren’s size. If you want to actually see Shitty Kitties, you’ll have to part ways and head up further to the “smalls” section of the crowd.

“Aw, hell. I guess I gotta go,” you say reluctantly.

“Wait!” Maren shouts to be heard over the lead singer’s introduction. “You can sit on my shoulder!”

“You’re full of spikes!” you shout back.

Maren pauses, thinking for a second. “No big deal! Here, sit on my arm!” He flexes one burly arm, patting it. “No spines and a perfect view of the stage! Deluxe seating, compliments of Maren. Whaddaya say?”

You blink, flattered at the offer but not wanting to impose. “But…won’t you get tired?”

“Nope!” Maren flexes his arm further, showing off his impressive muscles and grinning proudly.

He doesn't want you to leave, you realize. The thought gives you butterflies in your stomach that the spliff doesn't help to calm. Maren is roguishly attractive and good company, and he wants you around–why not accept?

“Alright,” you nod. “How do I get up theRE–!”

The moment you consent, Maren picks you up, wrapping his hands around your hips and hoisting you onto his upper arm as your words turn into a cry of surprise. Suddenly fourteen feet off the ground, you grip the fabric of his vest tightly, tucking your legs under his arm to hold on.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” Maren says cheerfully, patting your shoulder with his upheld hand.

You giggle nervously. From up here, you can see above the heads of the taller people and have an excellent view of the stage. Just in time, too, as the lead singer of Shitty Kitties finishes hyping up the crowd and begins counting down to their first song of the set.

“One, two, three!” The lead singer yells, then snarls into the mic.

“Oh! Oh!!” you exclaim. “This is Blightmare!”

Maren grins at your excitement. He nods along to the music, careful not to move you too much, and you pass the spliff back and forth as you enjoy the song. Blightmare was an old cult classic, one of your favorites. Once it hits the main verse, you're far too enthralled to not scream out the lyrics–hell, everyone else is.

“ROWR! I’m the wrong kinda crowd / I’m the devil in the day / and I’m no good for you / but you like it that way!”

You glance at Maren to see that he’s singing along, too. You can’t hear him, much less yourself, but you both grin at each other as you sing. The high of the spliff compounds the intoxicating feeling of the music, until you wrap one arm around Maren’s upheld one so you can steady yourself while headbanging.

“Fuck yeah!” Maren shouts, throwing devil horns up with his free hand. The both of you get swallowed up by the energy of your surroundings, screaming along song lyrics and pumping your fists for every song that plays. The set concludes what feels like far too early, and people begin to move around the two of you as they make their way to other stages.

“That was amazing!” you laugh, exhilarated. 

“It was pretty cute, hearing you try to growl like the lead singer,” Maren says.

Your chest tightens in a good way, and you giggle nervously, shaking your head. “My vocal chords will regret that tomorrow. But fuck it, right?”

“That’s right!”

“I didn’t know this would be so much fun! I’m so glad I came!”

“Is this your first time?” Maren asks, crouching down so he can let you off him.

“Yep. First concert ever.” You land and get your bearings, patting down your jeans. “There are lots of things I’ve missed out on because all my time was spent studying. Morning drills before class, prep school after, then homework in the evening.”

“Why don’t you just quit?” Maren asks like it’s obvious, and you balk at him.

“What? I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. It sucks, you clearly don’t like it. So quit.”

“You don’t understand,” you explain. “Mom gave up everything to get me here. We were dirt poor. She would even skip meals to make sure I was fed. She worked hard to give me this opportunity! I can’t just throw that away.”

Maren doesn't look convinced, but he doesn’t argue, either, merely shrugging. “Well, alright. Where ya wanna go next?”

You look down to hide your smile, thrilled that he wants to keep hanging out with you. Pulling out the flier, you squint at it. “A band called ‘M-K’ is going to play on this stage. What’s ‘M-K?��”

“Monochrome Kaleidoscope.”

“Oh. Well, they’re up next. And on the east stage, there’s Taka Tora Batta… and BB Thunder on the north. They should all finish around the same time, right before the headliner plays on the center stage.”

The headliner for the second day was Preyer, a band with a self-described “carnivore gothic” theme that was rapidly growing in popularity. Maren hadn’t brought them up at all yet, which was surprising–they seemed to be right up his alley, considering his taste in other bands.

“I don’t have a preference either way–I’m good with whatever,” he says.

“Me too. Why don’t we stay here, then?” you suggest. “We can move up closer and get a better spot in the crowd. If we go stand right at the border between the large and small section, you won’t have to hold me up the whole time.”

“I don’t mind,” Maren winks, making you flush warm, “but alright. Sounds like a plan.”

You feel far more at ease walking through the crowds with Maren at your side. Concerts are supposed to be a group event in the first place, and with such an open venue, you had some concerns about being by yourself. But even other big people would think twice before starting a fight with Maren, which was all the more reason you should have never gambled on ticking him off earlier. A stupid risk, but in a weird way, the action seemed to gain his respect–and now that you had each other to hang out with, you’d never been happier in making such a string of poor decisions.

You and Maren find the good spot you had mentioned earlier, the people behind you all larger like him, and the people in front of you average-sized. Maren opts to sit down, as he’s still tall enough from there to see over the “shorties,” as he calls them. You, on the other hand, can't sit without losing sight of the stage, so you lean against him instead, mindful of the spikes.

Monochrome Kaleidoscope was a band that seems to be a mix of electronic and jam rock subgenres. They switch off between playing songs from their newest album, Shatterstatic, and having jam sessions right there on stage, improvising for five minute segments. The drums and synth players decide on a beat and background, and the rest of the musicians jump in with their instruments one at a time. You've never seen anything like it before, and let Maren know as much in between songs.

“Oh, yeah, M-K’s great.” He gives you a lazy grin. “I need to see if their merch table is selling patches later. Don’t have theirs yet.”

“If you hold our spot, I’ll go look for you,” you offer.

“Alright! Thanks, sweetheart.”

You flush warm and quickly excuse yourself before your flustering becomes obvious. As you weave through the “smalls” section, you couldn’t stop smiling to yourself. Maren is the last person you’d ever expect yourself to crush on. A small voice in the back of your mind tells you not to get too smitten, to keep your wits about you. You have only known Maren for a few hours, and he didn’t want to talk about himself. Maybe there was a reason for that, and that reason could have been a dangerous one. But he liked your company. And you craved the attention, truth be told. You never realized how starved you’d been for it.

The merch table was an assortment of stickers, buttons, patches, guitar picks, vinyls, and even some pricey tone dials. All of them had black-and-white designs around the band’s logo. Your hand hovered above the patches. For a moment, you considered getting two. But you didn’t have anything to put it on, and if your mother found it, she would likely throw a fit. The thought brought you out of your high somewhat  After tomorrow, you’d go back to your regular life. Back to the mundane rigors of academia and arithmetic.

There was no doubt this was the only time you’d get to hang with Maren. He’d eventually go back to whatever island he was from–hell, he might have even been a pirate (a scary thought,) in which case there was a slim chance you would ever see him again. You clenched your fists as you decided, right then and there: this weekend was your only chance to try something new. So what if he was literally rough around the edges? So what if you’d regret it later? You were far more afraid of the regret you’d feel if you didn’t take advantage of this opportunity.

Maren might only be your friend for a day, but that was one day more than you had in years. With that in mind, you went ahead and purchased a patch for him, and a guitar pick for yourself. You didn’t know how to play guitar, but the pick would be an easy-to-hide memento. 

When you returned, two songs had passed, and Maren was standing, looking far more scuffed up than when you’d left him, his hair all messy and a new rip in his pants.

“Woah, are you okay?” you ask, reaching up to touch his forearm, where a fresh bruise is forming.

“Yep. A mosh pit formed behind me, so I joined in,” he replies, letting you examine his arm. “So did they sell patches over there?”

“Yeah! Here,” you take the patch out of your bag and hold it out to him.

Maren’s eyes go wide. “You–you didn’t have to buy me one.”

You shrug. “I, uh…I wanted to. No big deal.”

He looks genuinely taken aback, a faint dusting of pink contrasting with his freckles. Then he smiles big. “Aw, thanks, babe. That’s real sweet of you.”

You’re already flustered from the pet name, so when he reaches up to brush your cheek affectionately, your brain nearly short-circuits. Face burning, you deftly avoid his gaze, staring at his arm and changing the subject.

“That looks painful,” you say, tracing the edge of the bruise.

“Nah, it’s nothing. It was fun. You should try it!”

“Moshing?” you blink at him, incredulous. “No way. I mean, me?”

“Why not? You can start one up in the ‘smalls’ section. I know you shrimps need to get out your terrier energy.”

“Wha–hey!” you laugh, making Maren grin.

“I’m serious. You said this is your first concert, right? Trying new things is good for you.”

You’re not sure what part of knocking into other people is good for you, but for some reason, you feel yourself drawn to the idea. You shouldn’t be, but what if this was the only concert you’d ever get to attend? And what is it about Maren that makes him so convincing? He’s not even pressuring you, not really. You just want to look cool in front of him, despite the fact he probably thinks you're a total dork. You want him to like you so bad, but clearly he already does, so why are you considering this?

Maren sees you looking out over the crowd hesitantly, and raises a thick finger to point. “See those people down by the southwest row? The ones jumping up and down? They look primed for it. All you have to do is scurry over there and give them a little push.”

You bite your lip. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he nods. “Don’t shove people who look like they don’t want to be involved, and don’t use brute force on anyone smaller than you. Help up anyone you see on the ground. Other than that, go nuts.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay…”

Maren salutes you as you head forth. You walk a little quicker, gradually picking up your pace. When you reach the aforementioned group, you're at a brisk jog, and, feeling a bit nuts, you shove into the most energetic looking guy there. 

He stumbles slightly, looking surprised. You freeze.

Suddenly you're shoved from the side by a random girl. She shouts something at the group as you recover, and then the man you shoved comes back and pushes into her. There's more yelling from the group, and then four of them start throwing themselves into the crowd around them. Pulse racing, you collect yourself and join in, running at the nearest person.

The lead singer shouts and points at your section of the crowd. The guitarist jumps in, shredding an improvised solo like a crazy man. Suddenly the area around you seems to erupt, your small group becoming a massive, frenzied pit of at least 30 people. You get jabbed with elbows and shoved into bodies, never knowing where the next impact is going to come from, but your adrenaline is pumping like crazy and you don't want to stop. 

A particularly hard shove sends you off your feet. You hit the ground and tense, expecting to get trampled, but multiple hands come out of nowhere, lifting you back onto your feet. You pause, get bumped into, and resume throwing yourself into the swarm. 

You get knocked down several more times, but every time, hands reach out from the crowd like magic and pull you back up. It's only after you're out of breath and hurting that you decide to call it quits, making your way to the edge of the mosh pit, through the crowd, and back to Maren.

“Ahh!” you inform him, overcome with adrenaline. It feels like you just got off a roller coaster. “I–I did it!”

“You were like a little tornado,” Maren chuckles. “How was it?”

“Fun!” you shout. Your body hurts in various places, and you're banged up and bruised, but grinning like a maniac.

“Attagirl!” He holds out his fist to you, and you punch it.

It takes you a bit to catch your breath. You lean against Maren in the meantime, trying not to smile when he loops his arm around your hips.

“It looks like they have so much fun playing,” you say after MK finishes their last song. “I’ve always wanted to learn to play the guitar.”

“Why don’t you–wait, let me guess: you’re not allowed?” Maren raises both brows pityingly, and you lightly punch his arm.

“I just haven’t had the free time.”

“I could teach you, if I had a guitar,” he says, then pretends like he’s thinking hard, rubbing his goatee. “Tell you what. You sneak backstage and steal a guitar, and I’ll teach you to play a song.”

For a moment, you find yourself seriously considering it. Then you laugh at yourself. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A straight-laced person like me, committing theft.”

Maren laughs too. “I think breaking the rules would do you some good.”

“That’s not the kind of person I am.”

“It could be.”

“It’s not, and I’m okay with that.”

“Boooring.” Maren sticks out his tongue.

“That’s okay, too.”

He regards you for a moment. “You seem to have it all figured out.”

“I have to,” you say simply. “I mean, my own mother doesn’t know me. If I don’t know who I am, then no one does.”

“…”

“Anyway, if I get caught and jailed. I’d be kicked out of college, and then I’d lose everything. So no theft for me.”

“Would that really be so bad?” Maren says suddenly.

“Wha–of course. Everything my mom did…”

“Okay, but it doesn’t make sense to me.” Maren looks at you seriously. “What’s the point of all that sacrifice if you aren’t happy?”

You open your mouth, but can’t find a response. The words sink in slowly, slowly, and you try and wrap your mind around them. He…He's right. This punk you've known all of several hours is completely and totally right, and you have no idea what to say.

“Uh,” you say. “Um. Wow. Okay. I mean, yeah. Yeah, you have a point there.”

“Don’t sweat it too much, sweetheart.”

Easier said than done–you’re mulling over what he said for the rest of the set, only breaking out of the trance when it finishes and the crowd starts to move. You and Maren get up and follow the flow of the crowd. Everyone’s headed in the same direction–the side shows are all done, and it’s time for the headliner at the center stage.

The excitement at seeing Preyer live cheers you up a bit. You like several of their songs, and you’ve heard they have a great stage presence. Some of the people around you even have signs, though they don’t look nearly as happy to be there as you would think someone who went to the trouble of making signs would be.

Come to think of it, Maren doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic, either. His grin is entirely absent, like it was when you first met him earlier in the day. After you both find a good spot to stand at the center stage, you decide to bring it up.

“I guess you don’t like Preyer?” you ask.

“They sound alright, but the bandmates themselves are douchebags,” is his reply. “I’m not about to hold up a sign over it, but I’m not going to cheer them on, either.”

The comment strikes you as weird, and you follow Maren’s gaze to get a proper look at one of the signs someone’s holding. Rather than a message of endearment, like you expected, there is bold, bright red letters reading out:

‘PREYER OF CHILDREN!!!’

The other signs read similarly, and you frown. “What's with those signs?”

“You haven't heard?” Maren says.

“No… Did something happen?”

“You could say that.” He narrows his eyes. “The lead singer of Preyer likes to hook up with underage fans.”

“What?!”

“Yep. Several teenagers have come forward about it. Apparently drugs were involved. But there wasn't any hard evidence, so nothing’s been done.” 

“Oh! That’s awful!”

“Sorry you had to find out like this.” He pats your shoulder, resting his giant hand there. “I know it kinda ruins the vibes of the festival.”

“It's not ruined,” you say quickly. “I mean, maybe this particular concert is, but I'd rather have known.”

Maren nods. “That bastard let down every single person who came out here. Everyone who looked up to him.” His grip on your shoulder tightens, his smile tense. “He doesn't deserve to be the headlining show. He doesn't deserve to play at all.”

You shake your head in agreement. When you next glance up at Maren, he has a sly gleam in his eye, his grin stretching like he just thought of something funny. 

“Maren?”

“I'm gonna head to the restroom. Wait for me, sweetheart.”

You both already made pit stops before coming to the center stage. He might just need to go again, but even having only known him a few hours, you get the distinct feeling that he's up to something. Before you can say anything, though, he pushes through the crowd behind you and disappears.

You wait for him. The time passes, and several minutes turn to half an hour with no sign of Maren. Just as you really start to get concerned, you realize that the crowd has grown unusually tense. It's not the excited kind of tension, either, not an eagerness for the show to start. Rather, every few minutes you look around for Maren and see more and more people looking restless, even angry. People are starting to turn to their neighbors and talk. 

Something is definitely going on. You focus, trying to pick out individual conversations.

“... serious! He slept with a minor, and…”

“...gave alcohol to a kid…”

“... can't be true! He's a good guy...”

“...she was my daughter's age…”

The rumors of what the lead singer did are spreading like wildfire, it seems. You've never seen anything like it. You're not sure how it's happening–there are some protesters, but not enough to cause this–until you see a shock of familiar, burnt-orange hair a ways down the crowd.

But, wait. That can't be Maren. He’s 15 feet tall, and those guys over there are only about 7. You squint, confused to see that yes, it's definitely Maren, albeit shorter somehow. He's got his hand cupped to someone's ear, their face changing from neutral to shocked to angry in quick succession. Maren pulls away and works his way to another section of the crowd, and you suddenly know exactly what's going on.

Maren’s making sure not a single concert-goer hasn't heard about what's happened! You're in shock. He didn’t strike you as the type to care that much. That, or he just wants to start trouble. You're reminded again that you really don't know him that well, but you can't bring yourself to look down on what he's doing, either. 

You lose sight of him as he disappears into the crowd again, and don't see him until the band has finished setting up, when he seemingly materializes next to you.

“Those pretzel sticks didn't agree with you, huh?” you joke. “Looks like the crowd does, though.”

“Imagine that,” he grins. 

The lead singer starts speaking into the mic, only for the crowd to erupt into a cacophony of boos. You glance at Maren, who’s joined them in full force, then at the crowd. You can't help it– you join in too.

The lead singer tries to pacify the crowd to no avail. He can't get a single word in. He grows more frustrated with each attempt, until he finally screams, “Fuck you! We are Preyer, and we're going to rock your world! Five, six, seven, eight!”

The band launches into their first song. It's a shame–the music itself is good, but you can't enjoy it the same, especially not with the undercurrent of jeering. You figure the best option at this point would be to just leave, but Maren has other ideas.

“Charge! The! Stage!” he starts chanting, and your eyes get huge. Before you know it, the people around you pick up the chant. It's barely audible over the music, but steadily, more and more people start joining in, and it grows louder, and louder.

Maren notices your alarm and crouches down next to you, shouting so you can hear him over all the noise. “All good, babe?”

“All good? You're starting a riot!”

“Fuck yeah, I am!” He holds his hand out to you. “Are you with me?”

You stare at his hand for a moment, wondering how you got to this point. You knew, you just knew hanging out with him was a bad idea. He was everything you weren't! Everything you were taught not to be, brash and opportunistic and self-concerned. He would only make you worse, you were sure. But…god help you, you wanted to be like him. You wanted just a piece of that energetic confidence, to feel the warmth of the fire that burned within him. 

Even if you would get burned.

You swing your arm and clasp Maren's hand tightly. “Yeah!”

The crowd festers, the chant spreading like a plague, madder and louder until even avid fans are screaming it. The dissent is close to bursting, but it isn't quite enough. It needs something to push it over that edge. You look around. The larger fans toward the back seem eager to go, but people your size at the front, while angered, are still in place. Those at the back can't move forward until the ones up front do, not without trampling the smaller concert-goers.

You suddenly have a really, really bad idea. It's so, so unlike you, but, hell. If you want to be different… Maybe not at home, but here, maybe you can be…

What's the point of all that sacrifice if you aren't happy?

Fine, then. You'll make the change for yourself, if you have to.

Without warning, you start pushing through the crowd. Maren shouts after you, but you don't stop, and his voice is swallowed up by the chorus of rage. Heart pounding, you elbow and shoulder your way past the throng of people, row after screaming row, the stage getting closer and closer, the music so loud it's deafening. You can't hear the crowd anymore, nor your own crazed, panicky breathing. Only adrenaline keeps you going. Up at the front now, you can see a line of several security guards dotting the space before the stage. You break through the last line of people, charge forward, vault over the divider, and leap for the stage. 

Somehow you make it. You scrabble up and on. A security guard grabs you by the foot, but you yank your leg, your shoe coming off in his hand. The band keeps playing, but the lead singer stops. You charge him, and he scrambles back. But you're not going for him, much as he deserves it.

You grab the mic and scream one word with all your lungs:

“RIOT!”

All hell breaks loose.

The crowd roars, surging forward like a busted dam. The band stops playing. The security guards who followed you onstage are swiftly overwhelmed. One grabs you, but is pulled off you by three other people. The stage is quickly overrun, shouting and chaos all around. You get pushed and jostled by the rush of bodies. Equipment is being thrown, instruments trashed, wires torn. You can't see anything past the bodies and can't gain enough footing to move in any direction of your own choosing. When the larger people from the back reach the stage, you start to worry about getting trampled. Your fear is quickly realized as you're knocked hard onto the ground.

Out of nowhere, a large hand grabs you and pulls you high up–Maren, lifting you into one burly arm.

“You alright?” he shouts.

“Yes!��� you half shout, half laugh. 

He grins wide. “Cops are coming. Hold on!”

Maren runs away from the stage. You cling to his vest, but his hold on you is secure. The people around you are going every which direction, some still charging for the stage, some making a break for it like you are. Policemen start cutting into the crowd, rushing to protect the band.

“Where are you going?” you ask him once you've gained some distance from the crowd.

“No clue,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.

“Let’s go to the Saltwater Inn! I have a room there.”

“Where's that?”

“Head south.”

After you're a safe distance from the chaos, Maren slows to a stop and sets you down, catching his breath. You're panting, too, mostly from adrenaline.

“That…that was…” you pant.

“That was insane! You're amazing!” Maren yells.

“I don't know why I did that!” you yell back. “I–I hope no one saw my face! Oh my god…”

He laughs, one hand on his hip. “I was wrong about you, sweetheart. That was pretty ballsy.”

Right then, you notice that Maren has a guitar in his other hand. “Where did you get that?”

“I stole it from backstage while everyone was distracted.”

“Maren!”

“What? You did far crazier back there.”

You should feel guilty, and normally you would, but his toothy grin just makes you break out into a matching smile.

“Okay, good point. But let's not stick around.” You tug on his free hand, and Maren lets you lead him toward the inn.“I saw something weird while you were in the ‘bathroom’,” you say while you walk. “I could have sworn I saw another, smaller you in the crowd.” You give him an accusatory look.

“Heh. Yeah, that was me. I can change my size, cuz I'm a porcupinefish type Fish-man.”

“This isn't your normal size?”

“Nah, but I prefer it.”

The two of you chat as you make it back to the nearby Saltwater Inn. You were lucky enough to reserve one of the last rooms available back when you impulsively decided to attend the festival. The bed was made for someone Maren's size, so you overpaid, but it was worth it to be within walking distance from the festival. You ask Maren where he was sleeping that night while you both remove your shoes, only for him to reply that he had been camping out. At that point you weren't surprised by his answer.

“Wellll…” you flopped back onto the oversized bed. “If you wanted to…you could, you know…stay here? With me?”

Maren flops back next to you, making you bounce and giggle.

“Wellll…” he mimics your tone. “If you're gonna twist my arm about it….” He flashes you his signature grin.

Faces inches from each other, looking into his sparkling eyes, you're suddenly and totally overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. But you haven't kissed anyone in years, and he's so attractive, you don't even know how to begin to process that urge. Cheeks warming, you sit up abruptly and clear your throat.

“You said you could teach me to play if you had a guitar,” you say.

“That I did.” Maren sits up and picks the guitar up off the floor. It's huge, jet black and crimson and covered in stickers. He gently sets it in your arms. “It's a bit big for you, but you should still manage.”

Maren goes over the basics, then spends a few minutes trying to position your fingers. When you still struggle to mimic him, he changes strategies.

“Here,” he says, and picks you up by the hips, making you yelp in surprise. His large arms coming to rest over yours. Like this, it's easier for him to reposition your fingers on the frets. Your face quickly gets hot, but Maren is entirely focused on teaching, his grin more relaxed than it has been all day.

Despite everything you've gone through since meeting him, you don't think he's ever been as attractive as he is when he's guiding you through a song. The intent focus on his face, the warmth of his skin against yours, his low voice praising you as you do well–it all makes your head spin. He goes at a slow, steady pace, teaching you one section at a time, until it’s an hour later and you’re playing your very first song.

You’re brimming with excitement as you finish. It’s your first time playing music, and you think you’re in love. You look up at Maren with a sense of awe and wonder. You created music, almost by yourself. He seems genuinely thrilled to have shown you, too.

“Well done, sweetheart,” he says. “Did you like it?”

“Maren, I loved it! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“It’s the least I could do,” he says.

You set the guitar aside and lean back against him, and he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you.

“I’m glad I met you, Maren,” you say.

“Me too.”

You crane your neck back to look up at him. He grins, but it’s not as intense as usual. It’s soft, in a weird way. That feeling of wanting to kiss him washes over you, and Maren acts like he can sense it, because he cups your cheek.

“Whatcha thinking about, sweetheart?” he almost whispers.

“I–I. Um, I.” You giggle nervously. “I think you’re really hot, and I want to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” He leans closer. “What’s stopping you?”

“Nerves, mostly.”

He chuckles. “Alright, then. How ‘bout I kiss you first?”

You nod, heart racing so fast you think it’ll bruise your sternum. Maren’s thumb strokes your cheek as he takes in your flustered expression. Then he leans in. You shut your eyes, and a moment later, feel the smoothness of his lips pressing to yours.

Tingling, burning warmth courses through your veins at the contact, a taste of his fire. You open your eyes just as he pulls away, his face flushed like yours.

“Fuck,” you say, surprising him into laughter.

“Good?”

“Yeah. Really good.”

“Again?”

“Please, yes–”

He leans in again, and you shift in his lap to straddle one of his giant thighs, lips slightly parted as he kisses you a second time. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck, and you stretch up to meet him so he doesn’t have to bend so much. The second kiss is longer, lighting up your entire body with its passion. He’s not as intense as you expected, almost hesitant in his kissing. You’re not sure you’re doing well, either, but he stays put, so you gain confidence, parting your lips slightly and humming in approval. His tongue probes out to trace your lips, and you gasp before sliding out your own to meet his.

At the touch, you feel the blood rush between your legs. It’s a bit ticklish and wet and so warm, and as Maren closes his mouth to suck on your lower lip, a soft moan trickles out of you before you can help it.

You want him badly, you want all of him. You can feel the desire pouring out of him, too, that inner flame blazing bright and consuming you. He seemed confident throughout the day, but you can’t help but sense that you’re both seeking a kind of solace in the other. It’s been so long since you’ve been close to someone, especially like this, and he’s working up a need in you that’s impossible to ignore.

Maren moves his hands down your back and to your ass, squeezing before tilting you back slightly so he can deepen the kiss, tongue filling your mouth. His kisses turn messy and you do your best to keep up with his heated, dizzying pace, a second moan breaking free when he moves to kiss your neck. You tilt your head to give him easier access, his head filling the space between as he starts to suck on the skin, making a jolt rush straight to your center. You can barely feel the scrape of his sharp teeth, but he doesn’t bite. Maybe it would be dangerous, but you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

“Ah…Maren,” you breathe, “Bite me, I–I want you to bite me.”

“Huh? Wait,” he pulls away, giving you both a chance to get your bearings. “I wasn’t kidding when I said my teeth are sharp.”

“Just a nibble?” you plead. “Small and shallow?”

“What are you, a masochist?” Your face burns, but he’s grinning. “Hah! Alright, but hold still, sweetheart. I’ll try not to make you bleed.”

“What are you, afraid of a little blood?” you challenge.

Instantly one of his hands is in your hair, gripping tight by the roots to keep your head still. You moan at the roughness, feeling his grin against the base of your neck before the razor points of his teeth rake your skin. You squirm, and his other hand comes up to grab your shoulder to keep you from moving. The anticipation rockets your arousal from a spark to a burning need, but thankfully he doesn’t make you wait.

There’s a slight, sweet blossoming of pain as his teeth barely sink in. You gasp, legs squeezing his thigh, your breath hitching again when his tongue follows, soothing the sting. He licks back and forth along the spot before slicking his way back to your neck to suck another bruise there, and you can’t help it, you start grinding on his thigh to grant yourself some much-needed relief.

“Fuck,” Maren curses in surprise, pulling back to watch you. The sight must make him impatient, though, because a moment later he grabs your wrist and puts your hand on his crotch. There’s a very large, very hard bulge there, far bigger than your hand. You don’t hesitate to stroke him–you have to work your whole arm to do so–and are rewarded with the beautiful sound of his first moan. His hips cant forward, pushing into your hand, and he’s panting slightly.

“Lie back,” you instruct, and Maren complies, lying back onto the bed. You reposition yourself between his legs so you can grind your crotch directly onto his bulge. He throws his head back and gasps at the same time as you do, his hands coming to grab your hips and pull you onto him harder.

Before you risked buying a small, discreet vibrator, you used to get off by grinding on stacked pillows. The sensation of grinding on Maren, however, was so much better that you found yourself whimpering. His bulge was large enough to provide a firm pressure against your entire vulva, and his breathy, restrained moans only fueled your need. After all the teasing of his kisses, you were already worked up, and it didn’t take you much longer before you were rapidly climbing up and over the peak, a soft cry as you cum.

The orgasm wracks your body, and you hump him desperately throughout it until it finally subsides. You go still, leaning against his belly and catching your breath.

“Why’d you stop?” Maren raises his head to look at you. His brows rise in realization. “Did you cum?”

“Y-Yeah,” you pant. His toothy smirk makes you feel tingly all over again, and you crawl up his body to kiss him some more.

You make out feverishly, all earlier hesitation gone, replaced by hot, needy kisses and nibbles. You pull away just long enough to take off your shirt, throwing it to the side before your bra follows. Maren’s hands are on your breasts in an instant, kneading the soft flesh and making you moan into his mouth. It turns to a sharp cry as his thumbs find your nipples.

“Ya like that?” he husks, and you nod quickly, going to kiss him again and whimpering against his lips when he continues to rub the sensitive nubs. He grants you a brief reprieve as his hands slide down your sides and hips, fingers hooking under the band of your pants, and you break away to remove them and your underwear.

Maren slides a finger between your lower lips, eyes widening at the amount of slick he feels. “Shit, you are so wet.”

“Maren, please–”

You don’t need to say anything more. He slides his middle finger through your folds, up and down, up and down, building up an anticipation that shatters as his finger sinks inside you.

“Ahh!” you cry out as he pushes it deeper, grabbing his forearm to stabilize yourself. His hands are so large, fingers so thick that he can reach all the way to your cervix without stretching. You clench down on the thick digit, dizzy at how easily just one fills you up.

Maren starts to pump his finger slowly, and pleasure shoots through you. The muscles of his forearm flex beneath your hand as he soon fingers you into a mess, your legs shaking as you grind into his palm. He’s biting his lip at the sight of you coming undone on just his hand.

“Kuh, keep going!” you pant desperately. “More, more!”

“More?” he pushes his ring finger at your entrance. “Like this?”

“Yes! Nnnh–!” Your back arches as he pushes the second finger inside you along with the first, the stretch persistent and pleasant and filling. The slick, wet squelch rings in your ears. You rub your clit desperately with one finger, eyes rolling back.

“Shit,” he curses. “Look at you, so needy. Who woulda thought under all that, you’re just a needy little slut?”

Maren slides his other hand up your side to flick at your nipple with his thumb, and his fingers curl abruptly inside you, making you cry out in surprise and delight, the mounting pleasure spiking in intensity. He rubs insistently at your g-spot, and this time, when your orgasm slams into you, he can feel it fluttering around his fingers.

“Ah, ahh–!” You curl forward, almost weak from the intensity, shivers going through you along with the throbbing of your clit. “Coming!”

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel you,” he says, kissing your forehead. “It’s cute how easily you cum.”

“I want my third one to be from you fucking me,” you state intently. His eyes go wide a moment before he laughs.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

“That’s right. I want you to make me regret ever having run into you. I want to think about tonight for the rest of my life.”

Maren’s blush deepens, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he grins. “You keep catching me off guard, you know that? Alright, then. You think you can take it, then I’ll give it to you.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and uses the slicked digits to tease your nipples. The stimulation is different with the new lubrication, but in a good way, a sigh falling from your lips as he works heat into your body anew. You take his hand, pulling it up to your mouth, and lick the sticky fluid from his fingers. His breath hitches as you surprise him once more, a tender moan coming out when you start to suck on his fingers, one at a time.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Maren groans, his other hand reaching down to undo his zipper. He hastily shoves his boxers down to pull out his cock, jerking himself to the sight and sensation of your little mouth on his fingers. “How–how do you want to do this? I don’t have a condom.”

You take his fingers out of your mouth with a pop. “I have the implant.” You glance over your shoulder and flush hot all over at the sight of his massive cock in his hand. Naturally he’s proportional, and there’s no way it’s going to fit as he is. “Um…you’re huge, Maren. I don’t think it’s gonna–wait, you can make yourself smaller, right?”

He looks conflicted at the idea. “How small are we talking?”

You weren’t sure what his aversion to being smaller was, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Thinking for a moment, you offer, “what if I mount you, and you just shrink until it goes in? If you get to a point where you don’t want to keep going, you can stop and we’ll do something else.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Maren nods, seemingly put at ease.

You tug at his vest. He chuckles and removes it, then his pants and boxers. As soon as he’s naked, you throw your arms around his neck and start making out with him again.

“You know,” you say between kisses, “perk of you–being smaller–can kiss and fuck me–at the same time.”

He hums in response, not outright rejecting the idea. At his current height, riding him meant he couldn’t kiss you without breaking his spine. But at his current height, nothing was going to happen anyway.

Maren’s heated kisses work you back into a frenzy of need until you’re breaking away, licking the large scar on his left pectoral before kissing down his chest and belly, until your ass is pressed against his cock. It’s so big it touches your lower back, leaving a smear of precum on your skin.

“Okay,” you say, taking hold of his cock and positioning yourself over it. Maren sucks in a breath at the touch, and you follow suit as you press the blunt head against your vulva. It’s like trying to fuck an eggplant, it’s just not gonna happen, though the wet, smooth skin does feel good against you. “I’m ready.”

Maren nods and lets out a sigh. You feel a slight shift, not immediately realizing he’s changing, until a second later when you realize his head no longer reaches the pillow. He shrinks slowly, losing inch by inch, and you wiggle your hips a little to feel if he’s small enough yet.

You both gasp as he starts to penetrate you, but he can’t get further than the head.

“A-Almost,” you stammer. Another inch of height off, and you’re able to sink down onto him slowly. “There! Yes!”

Overall, Maren’s only lost about four feet of height. At 11 feet tall he’s still huge in comparison to you, and you’re a bit surprised at yourself. 

He must be, too, because he asks, “It’s not too much?” 

“I think–I can handle–nnng…” You lose focus as he bottoms out. His cock is still huge, bigger than anyone you’ve been with or any toy you’ve used, and the stretch hurts just a little bit. But he seemed so reluctant to get smaller, you don’t want to push him any more than he has. You just need some time to adjust, and you tell him as much.

“Ya sure, babe?”

“Yeah…It’s, it’s kind of good like this…” you hang your head down, looking at the point where your bodies are connected. There’s still several inches of him left out. He’s so thick that the broad head of him pushes firmly against your g-spot and doesn’t let you forget it’s there. You lift your hips experimentally, and the movement makes you both gasp again, a jolt of intertwined heat.

“Fuck, how are you taking so much? Little thing like you,” Maren’s hands rest on your hips as you start moving up and down. “You like big dick, huh, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes, yes,” you pant as you start riding him in earnest. “Oh���oh, fuck, Maren…”

“You’re more wild than you let on. I think you’ve been waiting for something like this, huh? Waiting for someone like me.” His breath is heavy, his husky words encouraging. “So wound up when we first met–turns out all you needed was to let loose, hmm?”

He’s not even dirty talking, not really, but the way he speaks to you just makes you wetter. You’re able to keep going thanks to it, keeping the friction from getting uncomfortable. Panting, you roll your hips as you ride him, grinding him where you need him most.

“Tell me how it feels, tell me how that big dick feels,” Maren says.

“Good! Feels so good!”

He rewards you with a sudden, hard spank, and you gasp.

“You got tighter! You are a masochist.”

He smacks you again, making you cry out. “Maren!”

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name!”

Smack!

“Maren-!”

Your pace slows as you tire–the festival has you drained–but Maren doesn’t hesitate to grab your hips, bracing his legs against the bed to thrust up into you. His tongue pokes out slightly as he pants, bouncing you on his cock, and you’re able to rub your clit now that he’s picked up the slack.

He moans, grip tightening on your hips as his pace picks up. Each thrust shoves you closer and closer to the edge until you crash over it with a strangled cry of his name, orgasm ripping through you.

“I got ya,” he pants, his hurried thrusts work you through your orgasm, head spinning at the feel of your walls spasming around him. “Gonna…ah, shit, I’m gonna cum…!”

He stops abruptly, pulling you down onto him so hard it hurts a little, head thrown back and moaning from deep in his gut. His cock throbs as he empties inside you, and then there’s no sound left but the both of you catching your breath.

He softens inside you, but is still so large he doesn’t fall out until you get off of him. You collapse next to his side, resting your head against him, a thick haze of relief and sated pleasure fogging up your brain.

Maren’s arm slings over your body, pulling you closer. You look up at him. He smiles when your gazes meet, that charming, devilish grin that got you here.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“Never been better.” You match his grin. “Next round, can you fuck me against the wall?”

“On the wall, on the table, on the floor…” he trails off, and you both giggle. “What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“One more day of the festival left.”

You cuddle into his side. “Will you spend it with me?”

Maren’s gaze softens. “Of course, sweetheart.”

It turns out that Maren has far more stamina than you do. He puts you through your paces, and you’re exhausted and sore the next day, leading him to practically carry you around. The final show is incredible, and when the day comes to a close and it’s time to part ways, you tear up a little. Maren’s as cheerful as ever, but you can see past the front he puts out just a little, now–you know he’s bummed, too.

“Keep your chin up, sweetheart. Maybe someday we’ll meet again.” He says, wiping at the corners of your eyes. “Promise me you won’t miss a guy like me too much?”

You smile and nod, even as you lie through your teeth. “I promise.”

[sanguineterrain]

Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup​’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.  

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner. 

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.” 

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails. 

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.” 

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.” 

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly. 

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.” 

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter. 

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even. 

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter. 

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment. 

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours. 

“How’s it goin’?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.” 

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look. 

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you. 

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.” 

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you. 

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?” 

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.” 

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you. 

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table. 

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?” 

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons. 

“Yeah. We always do.” 

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore. 

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.” 

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table. 

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone. 

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week. 

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home. 

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you. 

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye. 

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening. 

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

[loving-all-for-loki]

i really love your writing sm. could I maybe request something with Loki and reader being slow to realize that the feeling is mutual? if you dont mind <3

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoy my writing, that makes me very happy to hear. I tried my best with this, I wasn’t really sure how to go about it, but I think I did a fun little twist to it. The italics are flashbacks. ALSO, you don’t need to know the song “Stuck In The Middle” to read this, but it will make this fic a little bit cuter if you do, so go stream it! It’s by Tai Verdes (actually just go listen to his whole album TV). I hope you enjoy this, nonnie.

Stuck In The Middle

Loki x reader

Word count: 2255

Warnings: fluff, maybe swearing I don't remember lol

Tony decided to throw another one of his giant parties, but no one is really sure why. There’s no holiday, no accomplishment to celebrate. All you know is that the tower is filled to the brim with high named people and well rounded faces. Music is blaring as people lounge around drinking or casually dancing. The Avengers are all around, scattered among the faces.

You on the other hand are leaning against a wall drinking some pop and trying to ignore the creepy men that hit on you. Parties are fine, you don’t mind them, but you don't go around gloating about your business or accomplishments. You watch Tony walk around getting praised by millionaires and celebrities with a smirk on your face. Shaking your head, you look down and give your glass of water more attention than the people.

“You really should get out there.”

Steve stands next to you with his little suit on that makes you laugh. You’re not used to seeing him all dressed up.

“I’m not a boaster. I’ll dance here and there, but conversation isn’t my forte.”

“You're having a conversation with me, so what does that say?” He laughs.

“I don’t need your technicalities, Cap,” you laugh as well.

“You don’t even have to talk to people you don’t know. We’re all here.”

“Fair enough.”

“Do you want me to stay here with you?”

“No, Steve. Go have fun.”

He smiles at you before returning to his seat at the bar by Bucky and Sam. You smile at the three of them. You do truly love your friends, even if they bother you during alone time.

“Why would you enjoy them if they bother you?”

“Loki, stop reading my mind.”

“I can’t. You’re quite loud,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes as you take another sip of your water.

“Do you not like these grand parties?” He asks.

“Eh, I don’t mind them. Just not a bragger.”

“Ah, yes. One night dedicated to gloating about your own accomplishments while putting down others.”

“No, that’s the Oscars,” you joke.

“Who is Oscar?”

“Never mind. Why you go out and dance? I bet you have some moves.”

“Not without a partner. I’m more of a partner dancer.”

“Well, there’s plenty of pretty girls around you to ask to dance.”

“Why dance with a pretty girl when I have the most beautiful one right here leaning against a wall and ignoring everyone? That’s more my style.”

“Loki, I’m flatter,” you laugh, “is this your way of asking me to dance?”

“Possibly. Thor has been bugging me to ‘get out there’ and I don’t like anyone here beside you.”

“Such a gentleman.”

Loki rolls his eyes as he takes your hand in his and leads you to the dance floor. The song changes into a fun chill song you recognize as “Stuck In The Middle”. You and Loki dance together as the two of you laugh. At some point, he pulls you into him, holding him at your chest.

“Remember when we first met?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do. You were arguing with Tony and Thor.”

“I want to return to Asgard and I will no matter what you say.”

“You’re a war criminal serving time here for your attacks. If you even attempted to go back, the American army would shoot you down.”

“And good luck to them.”

“My brother is a god, Man of Iron, do not forget.”

“Shut it, point break. You can try to leave if you want to die.”

Loki scoffs at Tony’s threat. As he goes to open his mouth, he sees a girl wander into the living area and scour the kitchen. The three watch her in silent and she opens every cabinet. Loki is curious by the girl with her long black hair and sweats on, clearing not caring about the argument happening. She finally turns around with her mouth filled with pretzels from shoving them in. She looks at the two gods and Tony with a wide eyed look, clearly asking “what” in her face and shrugging.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asks after swallowing.

Tony laughs and shakes his head, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re fine, sweetheart. We’re just having a disagreement. Go enjoy your pretzels,” Tony chuckles.

Loki watches the way she submits to Tony and follows his lead, wondering who she is and why she listens to Tony without hesitation.

“I was so intrigued by you, this small little thing who looked so full of life. What happened to her?”

You laugh hard, “You got to know me, that’s what.”

Loki hadn’t seen the innocent girl in two weeks, wondering if she was even real. There had been some kind of glow to her so had he known better, he’d say she’s an angel.

Loki decided to coop himself up in the library while he was stuck on Midgard. Since he was stuck here, he thought he’d at least spend time doing something enjoyable. He’d spend hours in there until he had read every book and started to reread them. Then, as if the universe had heard him, the innocent girl had returned, putting a book away and getting a new one. She immediately walked out of the room and down to the tower’s elevator. Without hesitation, Loki got up and followed her at a quick pace, wanting to get in the elevator at the same time. As he walked in, they stood in silence next to each other and Loki realized he had no plan.

“I’m Loki. I don’t think we properly met.”

“Y/N.”

Loki feels his heart pound as she speaks to him with her heavenly tone. She sounds exactly like he thought she’d sound. It fits her so perfectly and he wants nothing more than to listen to her talk all day.

“I apologize for anything you heard the other day. Stark and I don’t see eye to eye.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughs, “He can strike a nerve sometimes.”

“That is an understatement,” Loki says, losing himself in his anger towards the billionaire.

You laugh at his comment which eases his anger. Loki is filled with joy knowing you find humor in his words, learning you’re not as stuck up as the other Midgardians.

“You read?”

“Yes, I love to.”

“What’s your favorite book?”

“Sense and Sensibility.”

“I don’t think I know that one.”

“It’s a Midgardian classic,” you say with some snark.

“I’ll have to read it. May I ask what you are doing for the rest of the day?”

The elevator opens and the two of you walk off, Loki still following you with awe.

“I’m going to spar with Steve for a little bit. You can join if you want.”

“I will not participate, but will not refuse to be of company.”

You smile at him as you walk towards the training room. Steve stands there getting ready and is surprised to see the stoic god behind you.

“Is he joining?”

“Just to watch.”

Loki sits down on the bench and leaves you to get changed and stretch. He can’t comprehend how something as sweet as you can be so willing to fight one of the super soldiers. He can’t even lie that he’s scared for you, but he’s soon proven wrong in seconds as you knock Steve down to the ground in a sweet kick. You and the super soldier go at it and you prove to be a worthy match for Steve. Loki is shocked by your swiftness and strength, clearly underestimating you.

“Well, I’m impressed.”

“I didn’t expect you to be as tough as you are.” “Wow, you underestimated me. I’m hurt, Loki,” you tease.

“I’ve learned to expect the unexpected with you.”

“How so?”

“I think we all remember your silly holiday ‘April fools’.”

April fools is one of your favorite holidays and now that the trickster god is living with you, all of the avengers are on high alert all day. No one realized he didn’t know about the special day, so Loki wondered why everyone seemed to ignore him more than usual. He walked into the living space to see you sitting on the couch with another book.

“Did I do something?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m aware I’m not well liked, but it seems that I haven’t seen anyone all day except for you right now.”

“It’s because its’ April fools and they’re scared of you.”

A little ping of pride hits Loki.

“They’re scared of me? And what is April fools?”

“It’s a dumb holiday here where you prank people and they’re worried you’re going to pull something. After all, you are you.”

“You have a whole day dedicated to messing with people?”

“Yeah, usually it’s something simple like telling people you’re pregnant when you’re not or tying the spray nozzle on the sink together so everyone gets wet when they use it. Other people go big which is what they expected from you.”

“That doesn’t shock me,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I wanted to prank them, but I think they’ve left the building entirely.”

“You say we have the tower to the two of us?” Loki can think of a couple ways he’d spend alone time with you, but the idea of messing with the Avengers with your help is too tempting. He’ll have to put his other ideas to the side for the moment. “We can still do something.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure, but you could think of something, I’m sure.”

“We could glue everything down so you can use anything?”

“Like stick the together?”

“Exactly, but we could use your magic so we could reverse it later.”

“I like how you think.”

About two hours later, the Avengers return from wherever they had been throughout the day and run to their rooms to avoid Loki. As soon as they noticed the two of you relaxing on the couch, they tensed up and sprinted. You pretended to not have told Loki about anything and watched them get nervous, trying to hide your amusement.

It’s only minutes later when they all run back in yelling at you about how they can’t pick anything up or open drawers. Loki looks over to you among the chaos and smiles, seeing the wide proud smile across your face.

“That was a lot of fun. You surprised me in the past though, too.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He laughs.

You had gotten hurt on a mission and found yourself with a broken arm. Every day activities became 10x harder because you have to do it with your non-dominant hand and it’s started to get annoying. You’ve been attempting to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for about 25 minutes now. Loki walked in to see you struggling with peanut butter all over your hand and a glob on the bread. There’s a giant tear in the middle of the piece you’re spreading it on and a frown on your face.

“You look like you’re struggling.”

“Thank you, captain obvious!” You exclaim in an angry tone, glaring daggers at the god.

“Do you need some help?”

“I would love some because clearly, I’m having some difficulty.”

Loki comes over and helps you finish making your sandwich. You sit down to eat but because of your bad mood, you don’t even want it now. Loki notices your distress and shakes it head, waving his hand by.

“You’re healed, now eat your sandwich.”

You look at him in confusion until you realize your arm doesn’t hurt as much when you move it. You rip off your cast and feel around to feel how your arm is completely healed.

“Thank you!”

“You can be very sweet sometimes.”

“Don’t let Stark hear that, he’ll think I have mind controlled you.”

The Avengers all sit around the bar and watch you and Loki dance. They have a big smile on their face as they see you two have fun, laughing and talking. Thor has never seen his brother look so relaxed and joyful before, it’s refreshing to see him happy. Steve and Tony don’t miss the way you look at Loki, it’s filled with more love than any friends would look at each with.

“You think there’s more there?” Thor asks.

Steve and Tony turn to look at him with confused yet amused faces. “Thor, you really are an idiot,” Tony laughs.

The song comes up to the last chorus and you and Loki have stopped talking. He swings you around and holds his body next to yours. The music get’s both of your attention.

Cause we’re stuck in the middle of lover and friends

And we’re losing every part of the benefits

You’ve hurt me more than I ever knew

But it’s shitty because I’m doing the same to you

As the lyrics set in, you remember all the things Loki has done for you. Making your PB&J, recommending books, keeping you company when the Avengers are away, dancing with you at New Years parties, giving you a hug when you return from missions, and not leaving your side when you’re hurt. Loki thinks of all the things that made you bearable. Your sense of humor, the smile on your face when you see him, the way you’ll reread books you love, the way you make fun of others with him, and how you defend him when they make fun of him.

“I think I like you,” you both say.

[mmvalentine]

The Bargain Pt 7 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

Rhys and Feyre sat on the sidewalk passing a tray of chips between them.

Rhys had woken up in a good mood. The two of them were meeting at the mural site, and on the way Rhys passed a cart selling hot chips and slices of sausage with a curry sauce. Not a conventional breakfast, but delicious.

Today, he was spending the day alone with Feyre, making a giant painting, and he that sounded like the best offer he'd had in a long time. In fact, they would be doing this for the next five days. He had whistled on the way there.

Feyre had turned up in these adorable little paint splattered overalls, with her hair piled up in a bun. Part of Rhys wished he was painting her today.

They were staring up at the wall where their mural was going to go, armed with an array of paint tins and aerosol cans and discussing how to start. On the one hand, when designing the piece they had taken turns and that had worked really well. On the other, it didn't make sense for only one of them to be working at a time. In the end, they decided they would lay down the base structure, and work from either end until they met in the middle.

When they finished their chips, Feyre got up and started pulling out reams of string and weights from her pocket to make a grid, the same way she always started. Then the wind picked up, blowing the string out of her hands and Feyre cursed.

"What are you doing?" Rhys asked her, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Making the reference grid." Feyre looked at him. "Don't tell me you were just going to freehand the whole thing. Don't be a hero, Rhys."

Rhys laughed. "I was going to use a lazy grid. Use a gibberish reference instead of a grid, so you don't have to get the lines perfect."

"I don't know what a lazy grid is, but if it cuts out the straight lines, then be my guest."

Feyre put the string back in her pocket, while Rhys picked up a can of pink spray paint and gave it a shake. Then he walked up and down the wall, making big sweeping letters all over the white base.

Rhysand is a spectacular person. Rhysand is the most handsome mural artist.

"Hey," Feyre said. "What about me?"

Rhys didn't turn, just filled in the last section of the wall.

Feyre you look absolutely delicious today.

The wall now filled with pink squiggles, Rhys back down next to Feyre. Where she smacked him across the arm.

"Since when are you such an outrageous flirt?" she asked him. "I don't know," Rhys answered honestly. "I'm just in a really good mood today." He smiled broadly, and Feyre rolled her eyes at him. But he caught her grin before she turned her head away, and his day just kept getting better.

Rhys completed his lazy grid: took a photo of the wall, uploaded it onto his laptop and then overlaid their design onto the photo. Instead of having a square grid as a reference point, they could now see what parts of the design matched up to what curly letter on the wall, and plot the painting scaled up.

And then they started painting.

By the end of the first day, they got the outline and main structure filled in. Feyre used a broad brush for her half, but Rhys used a lot of spray paints to cover large sections. At one stage, he got so lost in the process, unused to having someone painting by his side, that he nearly forgot Feyre was there. Until he took a step back to check the image from a far, and realised that Feyre had painted Feyre is the most delightful mural artist along the bottom of the wall where his pink script hadn't reached.

On day two, it was Feyre who showed up with breakfast. Fresh pretzels and pastries filled with cherries, and more hot coffee. Rhys traded his aerosols for brushes and they began painting in broad sweeps of rainbow colours, in Feyre's style. He painted blues across the bottom, yellows in the top, and a stripe of green across Feyre's left ear. She shrieked and flicked purple right across his chest before she had realised what she had done, and then looked mortified.

"Rhys, your shirt, I'm so sorry," she had said. Rhys pretended to be outraged for a minute, and then swiped orange across her nose before running away from her and letting her chase him down the street before calling a truce. And leaving a handprint on her back for her to find later.

On the third day, Feyre brought a speaker and they had music to work to. They added shadows and depth, and the image started to come alive before them. A wave of summer rolling from left to right. And everyday Feyre and Rhys worked closer and closer until they met in the middle. They had been swapping which side they worked on, too, so that they could make sure it was nice and cohesive. Rhys started leaving tiny messages in the spaces he knew Feyre was going to paint over.

I like the colour you put here, he wrote in one section.

In another: This bit reminds me of picnics.

And then especially well-hidden: I never thought I'd see you again.

When Feyre found the last one, she said out loud, "Rhys you big baby you have me on Instagram, you can talk to me whenever you like."

"I couldn't," he said, "you were a client." "I'm not now," she retorted, "so you can."

And then she returned to her painting, leaving Rhys to wonder what he might text her if he did.

Day four was the day of details. They picked up smaller brushes, and picked out careful patterns, finer outlines, points of solid black and white. Highlights, dot work, and the points on curls and tendrils. When they reached the centre, and then crossed the road to see the full effect, neither Rhys not Feyre could tell which parts were theirs and which parts were the other's.

Rhys whistled, and flung his arm over Feyre's shoulders.

"I think we might be done, what do you reckon?" he asked her. "I think we might be done, too," Feyre agreed. "A day early. We should call Tarquin."

Suddenly, it hit home that if they were done, he'd have to go home and Feyre would a continent away.

"No," he said. "Tarquin's not expecting us to be finished until tomorrow afternoon. Let's just have fun tomorrow, take the day off and tell him it's done at the end of the day."

Feyre looked up at him from under his arm, squinting through one eye.

"Rhysand you diabolical thing," she said. Then she stuck her hand out. "You've got yourself a deal." They shook on it, and Rhys breathed a sigh of relief. He was sure he could make one day last a lifetime.

"Come on," she said. "We'll just sign our names on the bottom."

She picked up the brush and put her signature in the corner, and then handed the brush to Rhys. He squatted down where she had been, pushed up his sleeves, and scrawled his name in next to hers. Then looked up and grinned at her.

But she was staring at his hands with her jaw hanging open. His smiled faded, as he followed her eyes and saw what she was looking at. Not his hands. His arm.

And the coloured tattoos that he had inked there after she drew them on in sharpie at their last booking a year ago.

****

Okay but lazy grid, or doodle grid method is so genius. I'm trying to write but my brain is mushy today so if you happen to be interested here's a great explanation video. Anyway I know I've slowed down a bit and I wandered off to make some Jurdan there, so thank you all for your patience.

Also! There seem to have been a flurry of new followers lately so if you are new here welcome and thank you so much for being here ❤️

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen

[folerdetdufoler]

What are Magic 8ball Evak doing today? I miss them.

xo

hey, sorry, you sent this a few weeks ago i think and i really got hung up on it.

usually this kind of thing would be fun to think about but because of the way time works i didn’t know how to write around it! like, when you sent it it was late august, and technically that had like, just happened in the story. we’d just had a late august, so i couldn’t figure out if i should write another “late august day” almost a year after the story finished, even though i only finished the story back in april. that felt like too much of a time jump though, and i hadn’t given isak and even enough time to grow after the story ended. someone else had asked for an update in the comments on ao3 and i couldn’t give them one, not the same way i have been doing for mondays. but i do want to do something, so…

even’s birthday fell on a sunday. it was the first one isak would be celebrating with him, so isak wanted it to be special. but so did sigrid, and she worked faster than him. she invited them to their house for dinner months in advance, which annoyed even. the saturday before, when they were all hanging out at elias’s apartment, even spent most of the time grumbling about it.

“i thought things were getting better with you guys?” elias asked from his throne.

even sighed. “yeah, i mean, we’re fine. this guy is her new bff.” even patted the head of curls sitting against the couch between his legs. “but i just know it’s going to be this over-the-top thing that i don’t want to have to deal with on my birthday of all days. i don’t want that attention.”

isak paused the race he was playing against mikael and whipped around. “you love the attention.”

“yours, not hers.” even gave that same head a correcting tap and isak returned to the game. “if she actually wanted to celebrate my birthday with me then she would ask me what i would like to do, and then maybe it would be something i would enjoy.”

isak scoffed but didn’t pause the game this time. “if she did that you would just tell her to leave you alone.”

“happy birthday to me!”

“then you should just tell her no, you don’t want to spend your birthday with her.” elias doled out the reasonable and obvious advice.

“i would have, but she invited both of us and isak accepted immediately. besides, it’s kind of a regular thing now, sunday dinners.”

“that’s cute,” mutta noted as he walked in from the kitchen with a bag of pretzels and jar of peanut butter. mikael pointed to the coffee table, a silent command to place the snack within his reach.

isak felt a little guilty then, but he kept it to himself. they kept playing their game until it was mutta’s turn, and then isak pushed himself to his feet. he gestured to even to follow him to the kitchen.

even had a big smile on his face as they stepped away, because he was probably thinking isak wanted to kiss him in the privacy of another room. isak did pull him in close by the waist, but it wasn’t for kisses. “we can skip tomorrow,” he offered instead.

even froze for a second, but then shook his head. “no, no, we can go. i would only make it worse by skipping.”

“i would be happy to tell her we’re skipping but take her out to dinner on her own another night, smooth things over.”

even chuckled. “i absolutely love that you feel comfortable having one-on-one dates with my mother but it’s really not necessary. I’m just…complaining. and i’ll complain a little bit more in therapy, and then i’ll work through why i’m complaining and then i’ll be in a better mood for tomorrow. okay?” he reached up and rubbed isak’s shoulders in reassurance.

“will you tell me about it when you get home?” sometimes even shared what they’d talked about and sometimes he didn’t. isak was getting better about asking permission to cross the ever-changing border.

even’s eyes shifted to the side. “it depends on what we dig up.”

isak accepted this. “okay.” he leaned in to kiss even’s cheek, physically changing the subject. “my next question is…how angry do you think elias will be if i steal the big pillows?”

―――

isak had moved into even’s apartment right before christmas, hauling bags and suitcases back and forth over a few days until most of his belongings were at even’s. he fit a desk and his nice chair in the bedroom, and somehow all of his clothes fit in even’s closet. the giant pillows he’d bought had stayed at elias’s apartment, mostly because they would get more use there; the boys still gathered on saturdays and needed the extra seating. but after even left for therapy this was isak’s chance to make the steal without ruining his surprise.

mikael helped him carry them to even’s apartment, since he was ready to leave around the same time as isak. they didn’t talk much on the walk over, but isak knew that that was mikael’s preferred level of communication, and they were both comfortable with it. isak would much prefer a mikael at peace than a mikael ready to launch an attack.

they deposited the pillows in the living room and mikael turned to leave. “we should be here at six?” he asked over his shoulder.

“yeah. i don’t know how late we’ll be but if we leave early then that would be a good time.”

“okay. and elias still has his key?”

“yup.” isak followed mikael down the stairs to their shoes.

“aight. we’ll see you tomorrow then.” mikael offered his hand for a casual slap-shake goodbye, the most physical intimacy isak had ever experienced with him.

“thanks for the help!”

mikael disappeared. isak went back upstairs to find his phone and finalize plans with kari anne in the group chat.

―――

isak dressed nicely for dinners at sigrid & jan’s house. this time he had a red fair isle sweater and dark wash jeans, and some chunky socks keeping his feet warm in his leather boots. even wore something very similar, but his sweater was cream with a different pattern. “do you think she’ll want to take pictures of us again?” even wondered while he combed back his hair, then gently mussed it into a style.

“of course. it’s your birthday. and we look handsome.” isak was applying a dot of concealer just because he could, though he would have to ask emma for more if he wanted to keep up this routine. even put his comb bak in the drawer then leaned in to kiss isak on his opposite cheek. he added a smack to his ass on the way out.

isak liked to dress up a bit because it felt like sigrid and jan dressed up too. it was the polite thing to do, but also isak knew that conversation would flow better if they were all on the same page, even with their appearance. they were all putting the same level of effort into the gathering, and then no one would feel out of place. and it wasn’t too much extra effort, because they would just save the same outfits for work the next day…as long as they didn’t get any stains on them.

they gathered their outerwear as they walked down the stairs, pulling hats and scarves and heavy coats from the hooks along the walls. isak checked in with even right before they left. “are you sure?”

even nodded and smiled and isak didn’t doubt the honesty of his response. he’d shared that his session yesterday had gone well, and they’d talked about certain behaviors from sigrid and himself that he wanted to avoid. “like i’ve been remembering things she’s said and reacting to those instead of what she’s actually doing now. when i feel ready to discuss those past…transgressions, then i need to have a conversation specifically about those moments, versus whatever might be triggering those memories now, whether they’re related or not. otherwise it’s kind of like these mixed messages. she won’t understand what’s actually upsetting me.”

on the way over isak suggested a dinner with just his parents, where isak stayed home. “would it be easier, or give you more of an opportunity to discuss those things without me there?”

“maybe another time. sundays are nice with you.” he gave isak’s hand a squeeze.

they held hands in public now, while they were commuting to work or grocery shopping or walking over to elias’s or meeting emma for dinner. if isak happened to catch a stranger’s curious look, he might tense up a bit, but he didn’t let go anymore.

sigrid & jan’s house was a tiny thing that they’d moved into after even went to university. its yard was bigger than the actual house, but it was completely filled with jan’s garden. another nice thing about going to visit was that they always came home with plenty of seasonal crops. and in the winter it was usually canned fruits, jams, or pickled veggies. sigrid greeted them with big hugs and jan immediately presented two very small jars of “blackberry jam! i got just enough off of that bush at the back.”

“i thought it had died!” even exclaimed, the genuine shock and delight at the gift lifting his voice.

“it’s definitely on its last legs…uh, roots.”

“he was out there every day scouring the brambles.” sigrid shook her head but she was clearly proud of his efforts. then she took isak’s hand and pulled him to the kitchen. even and jan went to the tall closet at the back of the living room where jan stored his jars. “you both look so cozy today. remind me to take a picture later.” she brought him to the stove where she had two large pots simmering. she pointed to one. “i need you to blend that while i get this bread finished.”

“what is it?”

“that’s butternut squash, and this…is a ministrone. kind of. i’ve taken some liberties.”

isak picked up the immersion blender that was sitting next to the stove. sigrid had gotten it started but it was still chunky in spots. while he stood there and mixed the soup she sliced a loaf of bread and laid it out on a baking tray. each slice got a thick spread of butter. isak stepped to the side so she could open the oven and slide the tray in for a quick broil.

she flicked her eyes toward the living room and then leaned toward isak’s chest. “how has he been?”

sigrid asked this question every time they were together. isak had thought it was just general curiosity about the new relationship, but once isak revealed that to even he had rolled his eyes. she was asking isak because it was the nervous curiosity that even had tried to distance himself from years ago. eventually he told his mother to stop using isak to get answers about her own son. that turned into an argument where sigrid nearly started crying about how even wouldn't answer her so she had no choice. she excused herself from the table and jan was left to host the boys through the rest of a very quiet dinner.

at this point isak was comfortable pushing back to defend even’s boundary. “sigrid, you know i’m not going to speak for him. how’s this, is it smooth enough?”

she glanced into the pot. “yes, that looks good.” isak’s deflection seemed to work. “now grab some bowls from the shelf for me please. thank goodness he found a tall one to bring home,” she muttered to herself. isak blushed but easily picked four bowls from up high.

even and jan came to the kitchen shortly after, with jan still talking as they headed to the table. isak passed them the silverware and glasses to set out at each seat. then he helped sigrid carry the pots to the table. before she sat down she dropped a kiss on the crown of even’s head. “how are you doing?” she asked as casually as she could as she moved to her chair. isak sat on the other side of the table, so the couples could look at each other directly. isak studied even as he answered.

“i’m fine, mamma. a little nervous about pappa’s grand scheme over here, but everything else is okay.” isak couldn’t hear any tension in his voice so he relaxed a little bit.

“oh, is he trying to get you on his side about buying a van?”

“how else will i transport my vegetables, sigrid?” jan sounded exasperated by her skepticism.

“dearest, you don’t even have the stall permit yet. don’t put the cart—excuse me, the van—before the horse.”

“catch me up?” isak requested of the table in general. jan gleefully started from the beginning with his grand plan to join the farmer’s market that summer, with the full list of his crops and ideas for clever names for his backyard farm.

most of dinner was spent discussing this great undertaking, with even contributing creative enthusiasm and sigrid sprinkling it all with caution and logic. then they pivoted to jan’s work at the office, and how he found his attention shifting so easily in the warmer months. jan and sigrid lived comfortably and were starting to entertain plans for retirement. that led to talking about the cabin, which turned into the perfect segue by the time they were clearing the table for dessert.

Isak fetched smaller plates from an even higher shelf, and even clapped when sigrid revealed his cake. it was a tall layer cake draped in swirls of light blue icing. there were six candles on top and even’s name written in a shaky, dark blue script. “do you remember that picture you put in the folder for me? the close-up of his face?” sigrid asked isak. he nodded. every few weeks he picked a photo (with even’s approval) from his phone and uploaded it as a wordless update for his parents. that one had been from early december, when they went out for lunch on a random tuesday, just to get some sunlight. “i zoomed in on his eyes and picked the blue color from there.” sigrid twisted to even and cupped his cheeks with her small hands. even leaned into the adoring gesture and those blue eyes crinkled up with a smile. they shared a silent moment of connection and then she released him to stand in front of her chair. isak stood up too. jan struck a match to light the candles.

even laughed and gamely clapped while they sang the birthday song. he watched isak spin around with a little flare, and isak genuinely enjoyed performing something he used to roll his eyes at. then even paused to make a wish and blew out the candles. isak knew he would ask him what he wished for later.

the cake was delicious, and they each had two slices. even tried to flick icing across the table at isak but sigrid threatened him with a spoon. “if you get icing on my wall you are cleaning it up, birthday boy.” even agreed to those terms and kept trying. then jan left the table for the bedroom, and returned by sliding a tall, skinny cardboard box through the kitchen. it had a blue bow stuck on top, which was enough, since it would’ve taken an obscene amount of wrapping paper to cover the whole thing.

“eh?” even stood to look at the box.

“happy birthday, dearest.” sigrid looked very proud of the gift and was enjoying even’s puzzlement. jan stepped back and let even walk around it. they had to hold it at the top so it wouldn’t fall over.

“it’s heavy….” even’s eyes scanned each side. “is…did you get me a bed?” he gripped the box to turn it around, showing sigrid and isak the diagram on the other side. it was, in fact, a bed. “thank you,” even whispered, without much conviction.

“it looks like a nice bed,” isak added, coming around the table to look at the dimensions. “we can get the guys to help us carry it upstairs.”

“oh no! no!” sigrid nearly yelled. “it’s not for—it’s for the cabin. you don’t have to carry it anywhere. pappa and i will take it up on our next trip and build it in your room, so now you’ll have a proper bed for when you and isak visit. i didn’t want those flimsy beds from when you were a kid stopping you from staying in ålesund.”

even’s face relaxed as his mother explained and the bed made more sense. he leaned the box against the nearest counter edge and moved around it to give sigrid a hug. “thank you,” he said again, with actual gratitude. “that’s such a lovely gesture for the both of us.” he pressed a heavy kiss on sigrid’s cheek and isak saw her squeeze her eyes closed. she was going to cry. she let out a tiny gasp when even pulled back. he went to jan to give him a hug as well, and sigrid turned away from them to hide her tears. but isak stepped in and opened his arms for a hug as well, and she fell into his chest and let loose against his sweater.

“thank you, sigrid. that means so much to us.” he rubbed her back to calm her down. “let us know when you’d like a family vacation and we’ll try to clear our schedules for it, okay?” her blonde hair scratched at his chin as she nodded. isak knew it was a big promise, committing to a vacation with his boyfriend’s parents, but that seemed to be the least they could do since they bought them a bed. aside from the literal comfort they were providing, it felt like a grander statement since the gift would serve both of them. isak felt like it was his birthday too.

when even and his father separated, jan peeled off the bow and stuck it to even’s chest. they shared a low chuckle, and then jan slid the box back to the bedroom where it had been hiding. “you know, if we have a van, it will be a lot easier to transport this up there!” he sang as he left. isak let go of sigrid and spun into even’s arms. she plucked a napkin off the table to wipe at her tears while isak was crushed into a hug with the bow.

“we’ll keep the little mattresses, of course. you never know when elias and mutta and mikael want to come for a visit too. but yes, this will be a nicer frame for you both.”

“it’s such a thoughtful gift, mamma. thank you so much.”

“you know…i thought of it as soon as you came back from your first trip, when you brought back the clean sheets and blanket. it might’ve been presumptuous but if…if isak was having a nice time then i thought he might want to come back, and then i wanted it to be ready, and you two could have your own space.”

isak laughed as he pulled out of even’s hug. he kept to his side though, and wrapped an arm around even’s waist. “you were very right to presume. though i suspect i would’ve had a wonderful time even if i had to sleep on the floor.”

sigrid looked horrified when he suggested such a crime, but that just made even laugh. jan reappeared. “oh i forgot to bring these out.” he was carrying a colorful quilt and coordinating linens, also with a blue bow on top. even let go of isak to accept them, and both boys admired the pattern.

“pappa helped me pick those out. they were on sale after christmas. oh, and if you bring them back to the city to wash, you could just use them on your regular bed too. everything fits.” sigrid returned to her pleased homemaker attitude, with any remaining tears in her eyes only there out of pride. she’d surprised her son with a useful and enjoyable gift, that doubled as a reason for him to visit her at the cabin. it was a very successful birthday dinner.

―――

they enjoyed a little bit of champagne in the living room before they left, relaxing on the couches and catching up on the skiing gossip from sigrid and jan’s most recent trip. isak disclosed that he hasn’t skied since he was very young, which sent even giggling, picturing his boyfriend flying down the slopes. “this might be even better than my skateboarding fantasy.” luckily neither sigrid nor jan inquired further into what that fantasy actually was.

when isak noticed the time was getting close to seven he made the gentle suggestion to head home. sigrid and jan were happy to let them go, having enjoyed the whole bottle together and noting their earlier bedtime now that they were getting older. but she also demanded photos once they were standing, so isak took a few pictures of even with his parents and then jan took a few of isak and even alone. they had to brainstorm a way to take a picture of all four of them together, but then sigrid cleared a small space on the fireplace mantle to rest a phone. Even set the timer, they lined up with the boys in the middle, and they wrapped their arms around each other. they smiled.

after another round of hugs and kisses they bundled up and went home. isak carried the new linens in an oversized shopping tote over his shoulder. “that went well, yes?” isak looked over to see even nodding into his scarf. he pressed the button for their stop.

“it was really lovely. i had to, like, constantly remind my brain to not interpret what she was saying negatively, but that’s…what i’m supposed to be doing.” they stepped off the bus carefully, navigating the packed snow on the sidewalk. “maybe after a few more visits it will be less of a conscious effort. but even as it was, i enjoyed myself. i liked seeing you with my parents.”

“speaking of me with your parents, i kind of promised sigrid we would go on a family vacation with her to ålesund.”

isak could barely hear the chuckle underneath the scarf but it was there. “i think that was a given. that was the whole point of the bed. it was quite clever on mamma’s part.”

“mm,” isak agreed. “so we’ll have to start looking at our schedules. and now we have the weekend farmer’s market to take into account.”

even’s laugh was louder and drew his mouth up above the warm wool. “he really has leaned into his gardening in the last year, jesus. if you had asked me five years ago what hobby i thought my dad would pick up next, i never would’ve thought ‘fruits and vegetables.’”

“forget hobbies; he’s halfway to his own business.”

they approached their building. isak had his own key now, and he unlocked the first door for them.

“what are you thinking about?”

isak was thinking about the surprise that was waiting for them upstairs, feeling nervous that he didn’t have any texts with updates, even though he didn’t ask for any. but he quickly thought up a work excuse that would explain his distance. “um, how maybe someone from jakob’s team might be interested in profiling jan. has there been a surge of home gardens lately? what’s the process for joining a farmer’s market? how profitable is it to bring produce into the city from a farm versus urban, hyperlocal crops? what resources are there for farmers when it comes to direct-to-consumer sales?” he felt ridiculous spitting out these ideas because they were rushing out without a filter yet they sounded somewhat legitimate. he really should be putting these questions in a voice memo, but even was climbing the stairs in front of him and that was…well that took priority.

the bag of linens landed with a light thump on top of isak’s pile of shoes. they removed their outerwear slowly as they climbed, hanging everything back up. isak listened for noises but didn’t hear anything over the shuffle of their own clothes. there wasn’t any light coming through under the door. and even—even was still undressing. isak reached up and tugged at his belt. “what are you doing?” he hissed. even threw his sweater and undershirt over his shoulder, and they skimmed isak’s head as they fluttered down the steps.

“getting naked. wanna help?” even was still climbing and his hands were at his belt buckle.

“even, no!” isak was torn between holding his boyfriend back and trying to reach for his shirt, while also not pulling them both down the stairs.

“what…what’s going on? you love when i get naked.”

isak blushed, praying whoever was on the other side of the door was far enough away to not hear them. maybe they were hanging out in the living room. even undid his belt but he did stop climbing to look at isak.

“do you want me to blow you down there?” he pointed down to the graffiti door and isak was going to melt from the flames burning his neck.

“shut up, no, just….” he stumbled down the steps to fetch the sweater and chucked it back up at even. “put this back on. we can’t be naked.”

“why not?” even was seriously confused but he did as isak asked. “we always get naked.”

isak pinched the bridge of his nose. “not tonight, okay babe?”

even dropped his sweater and his jaw. “is this…is this the first time you’re saying ‘no’ to a fuck?”

“even! i’m not—that’s not what this is. just please put your clothes back on until…until later or something.”

even reached into the pocket of his sagging pants and pulled out his phone. “i need to document this. for the record.” he snapped a photo of isak staring up at him with an annoyed look on his face. “this was the first time isak denied me.” even snorted. “it looks like you’re about to give me a very angry blowjob though.” he showed isak the photo.

if he weren’t so frustrated by the situation, isak would’ve laughed. that’s exactly what the photo looked like with that angle. unfortunately isak’s face just made even want to persuade him even more, so even tucked his phone under his chin and promptly shoved his pants down to his ankles. he was wearing bright red boxer briefs and he shook his ass in isak’s face. then, before isak could get a grip on his body, sexual or otherwise, even waddled up the few remaining steps and reached for the door. isak screamed, “NO!” at the same time as their kitchen, full of friends and coworkers, screamed “SURPRISE!” at a nearly naked even.

maja screamed, marius howled, and mikael took approximately 50 photos, the flash of his phone camera lighting up the kitchen like a red carpet. isak was so embarrassed he sank down behind even’s legs. even laughed and made no move to get dressed.

“pull up your motherfucking pants even! i came here for your birthday, not a peep show.” kari anne's booming voice had a hint of a laugh in it.

it did not occur to isak until just then that all of their friends were not just seeing even in his underwear—they were seeing even’s boner in his underwear. so despite isak’s desire to melt into a puddle right there on the steps, he now felt enough possessiveness to lunge forward and pull up even’s pants from behind. it was a challenge to dress someone blind, especially when that someone was a giggly, wriggly mess. isak got a flash of the kind of future where he was getting a toddler dressed, but he had no time for that future right then. he got even’s jeans up to his butt and then he had to forcibly turn his boyfriend around in order to navigate his bulge.

“looks like dinner with the parents went well, then!” elias shouted out, making everyone laugh again and isak’s cheeks turn an impossible red.

“oh, babe.” even finally noticed isak’s general struggle. he took over with his pants and hefted them up to his waist. “i’m sorry. i should have listened to you. but this was amazing and hilarious. are you okay?” he buttoned his jeans and cupped isak’s jaw.

isak was still too flustered to say anything. his eyes darted from even’s face to the gleeful faces behind him, checking to see who was still laughing. “come on, bedroom.” even started walking isak backward toward the privacy of their bedroom. “five minutes!” he announced to everyone else.

“i thought you only needed two!” someone else shouted back.

―――

the laughter and voices faded as soon as the door closed. isak spun around and flopped himself on the bed face first. “surprise,” he mumbled. even collapsed on top of him, blanketing him with rough denim and warm skin.

“this was the best surprise ever. i’m sorry i embarrassed you with my penis.” even added a little thrust as if that would convey sincerity. the heat that flushed isak’s cheeks now was a slightly different kind. even nuzzled his face against isak’s cheek and gave him a few kisses. “i’ll get dressed and we can hang out with my favorite people.”

even pushed up and went to the closet. he swapped out his jeans for grey sweatpants and put on a white t-shirt. isak kept his jeans but opted for a clean white t-shirt too. even swept isak into a hug before they went through the door. “i love you in general and i love you for this. thank you for such a nice gift, and the perfect way to relax after the family dinner.” he squeezed across isak’s back and then shifted his head in for a kiss. isak demanded tongue as part of even’s apology and he got it, a nice open, wet kiss that tasted like champagne. even grunted when they parted. “um, yes. friends first, but then we’re definitely revisiting the naked thing.”

isak agreed with an aggressive grip on even’s ass. even kissed his way out of it and wiggled toward the door.

the kitchen roared with another greeting when they appeared, birthday wishes thrown from every direction. even opened his arms and accepted all of them with a wide smile. “thank you all for coming. this is such a fun surprise, and i clearly had no idea.”

“it was a fun surprise for us as well,” kari anne smirked.

“since we’re all here and there is a grotesque amount of alcohol behind mutta, have we agreed to absolutely ruin our sunday night?” another cheer went up. isak moved around even to get to the counter by mutta.

as requested, everyone bought the alcohol isak had assigned them and paid for. he couldn’t bring much into the apartment on his own without raising suspicion, so he spread out the drinks, food, and decorations among their friends. maja and marius picked up a cake from a bakery on their side of town. mutta and kari anne brought most of the alcohol. sana and yousef brought food from mamma bakkoush, enough to last them at least a week. elias and mikael were on decorations & entertainment duty. their friends had started drinking, as was to be expected when you’re trapped in an apartment for a couple of hours. since everyone had helped themselves to the juice and ice in the fridge, isak didn’t bother with setting anything else up. he searched for sana in the small crowd, who was chatting with mikael by the entrance to the hallway. when he caught her eye he nodded a question and she held up a full glass in response. with her taken care of he mixed up a dark & stormy for even.

“here you go, babe.” he only interrupted even’s conversation with marius and maja to put the cup in his hand. then he went back to the counter to assess the food. yousef joined him to point out the options.

“all of even’s favorites. mamma didn’t leave the kitchen all morning. this…this tray is okay. these two should be reheated a bit.”

“okay, thanks.” isak reached over to start the oven.

“and this we actually eat cold sometimes, so it would be fine as is.”

they figured out the food and then isak moved on to the living room. everyone was still in the kitchen, so isak got to see the decoration efforts as intended. streamers looped colorfully from even’s shelves, carefully taped as to not disturb his toys. balloons hovered at the ceiling, their strings becoming vines that dusted isak’s shoulders. on the coffee table was a pile of markers and a large brown envelope. he went right to the envelope to see what was inside. “yesssss.” isak dumped out the contents and spread them out. he had found ten particularly embarrassing photos, a mix of recent shots from isak and childhood ones from sigrid, that he’d ordered temporary tattoos of. he had a good feeling that this group was going to get very creative with the placement. in the very least he knew exactly where he wanted a tattoo of even on his own body. he practically skipped back out to the kitchen to get water and a sponge.

everyone had started eating, so isak joined the queue for a little bit of the bakkoush cuisine. no matter how full they were, isak and even would always make room for mamma’s food. isak refreshed even’s drink and then led some people into the living room to eat, for more seating. even stayed in the kitchen at the table with sana, yousef, and kari anne.

maja screamed again when she saw the tattoos. she and marius abandoned their food immediately and took the sponge to the bathroom. three minutes later marius returned with at least four evens plastered across his face. then he dared mikael to do even more. after that, it was chaos.

elias tried to tie a balloon to the back of sana’s hijab. kari anne was the first one to get a tattoo of even on her ass cheek. mutta and mikael started doing shots, and marius and maja were caught making out in the stairwell when it was time to break open the markers on the door. their defense was that maja could stand on one step above marius and they would be a closer height for kissing.

“like my apartment is the only place with steps, get the fuck out.” isak shoved marius against the door. but that’s exactly where everyone stayed. they all shared the markers and wrote silly birthday messages to even on the door, reading old ones and laughing, and recording new jokes that they now all shared. the graffiti door was due for an update and everyone got a chance to leave their mark. isak made sure no one wrote over his original “shithead,” and he added a couple more questionable names wherever they fit.

unfortunately marius convinced maja to paint her lips with marker ink and kiss the door, but then she was stuck with deep purple lips. sana immediately dragged her up to the bathroom to start exfoliating. isak had to console maja from the doorway. “i’ll get emma to give me some lipsticks that would cover it up if it doesn’t come off.”

“matte,” sana instructed.

isak opened his recording app and noted that: “matte lipsticks from emma for maja.”

“anything from a maroon to a magenta should cover it up.” isak added that. “in the meantime, here, you can use this.” sana pulled a tube of lipstick out of her small crossbody bag and opened a drawer. she plucked an alcohol wipe from where even kept them next to the tweezers and cleaned off the tube and used lipstick. she handed it to maja and maja looked like she was about to cry from the gesture. sana nipped it in the bud with a glare and a single finger held up in maja’s face. “just be glad your friends are so clean.”

isak blushed, assuming sana knew that they had those wipes to clean their toys. but then marius burst into the bathroom, shoving isak aside. “baby, it looks like we just kissed too hard for a little bit. ‘cheer up! a hickey from kenickie is like a hallmark card,’” he quoted in his best american accent. this actually made maja cry so isak excused himself and went to get more alcohol.

eventually yousef was tasked with getting mutta and mikael home. marius gave maja a piggy back ride down four flights of stairs and across the city. they found kari anne had removed her pants and crawled into their bed, so they left her there. sana, even, and elias collapsed onto the couch and giggled their way through a nonsense conversation the way siblings do. isak put the food away, got water for them all, and then joined them on the floor with his giant pillows. even found grease on the tv and they watched and sang along with the few bits they knew. then isak fell asleep, his fingers wrapped lightly around even’s ankle and his head resting against even’s knee.

[popculturebuffet]

Amphibia Season 3 Reviews: Hop Till You Drop/Turning Point: I Wanna Be Better

Hello all you hoppy people! We’re back with Week 2 of Amphibia Season 3.  I don’t have quite as long an intro this time as only a little has happened since last time. We have episode Titles for the rest of Season 3a. I say the rest as it ends on the Christmas episode, as does it’s sister show the Ghost and Molly McGee, so I figure similar to Ducktales last year, both shows are going on hiatus after, with presumably Big City Greens and Owl House cycling into their places after the winter holidays. I’ll speculate more on the episodes once we get the descriptions in a few weeks, though i’m very entertained there’s an episode called Spider-Sprig. 

The other thing is the Ghost and Molly McGee itself, which I finally watched. I won’t be adding it to regular coverage this season becaue of Amphibia, but it’s a very charming, energetic show with the first 5 episodes already on Disney+, a schedule I hope keeps up for the next batch. I’ll have my full thoughts on that later. But needless to say my hype for it was warranted. 

So with that almost nothing out of the way, join me under the cut with full spoilers as Polly fights an army of Babies and Karens, Sprig nearly dies a few times, Hop Pop learns i’ts not easy being green while back on Amphibia Grime takes his bed and finds a new friend while Sasha finally deals with her overwhelming guilt for being terrible. 

Hop Till You Drop

It’s mail time....

And Anne is going out to get the Mail when the Plantars, curious, decide to go with her. This also serves as our intro to Sprig and Polly’s proper human disguises for the season: Sprig gets a hoodie, beanie and kitty facemask, which given the state of the world is a type of facemask I own though in a Schitt’s Creek design that says “Ew, Covid” for me. Polly meanwhile gets a baby raincoat and hat, with a blonde wig attached to the hat. 

Naturally not being familiar with earth the Plantar’s not only get lost in the journey to the Boonchuy’s mailbox but get in trouble: Sprig nearly fargos himself in a woodchipper, Polly mouths off to some local tuffs on trykes, and Hop Pop.. nearly sits down with a suit guy for a free offer, meaning he nearly either got an expesnive cell plan or joined a cult. Either way...

Anne is exhausted from this and pounds back a soda, with her parents noticing and empathizing with her, pointing out exhaustingly trying to keep someone from nearly dying is what being a parent is all about. I really like this scene as we get to see Anne’s parents settled into the situation. Understandably they were on guard last episode as they were pretty much stuck with the Plantars and still processing both anne being back and that she’d ended up in a strange frog world and brought back some guests. Now they can trust Anne to handle it and get these frogs are now also family, they can simply focus on helping her, pointing out they gotta ease her into it. And it makes sense: as the episode itself points out at the end Anne took time to adjust to Amphibia and get used to it’s in’s and outs and it’s giant death creatures. While Earth is far less deadly on paper, in practice it’s still a world the Plantar’s don’t know, with social norms they aren’t ready for, and tons of things that could kill them just for being curious that most humans know not to do, like sticking your face in a woodchipper or licking paint or agreeing to go to a party hosted by Rudy Guiliani. 

Anne TRIES to go with easing them into it... but after Spirg nearly licks a fan, Polly tries to get those teens back and Hop Pop falls for a phone scam, Anne decides screw patience and goes with “throw them in the deep end and hope they don’t die. “ You know the technique from the 80′s that 7/10 modern swim coaches have called “child abuse’. 

So Anne decides it’s time to go to the mall, today. She did forget the robot but in her defense Frobo is just a head right now. She’ll take him to get a pretzel once he’s all fixed up. The Plantars scoff at needing training.. then fall down some stairs.. well an esclator. And unlike Marcy they don’t have the luxury of free health care because somehow our health care’s system is worse than the one ran by a tyrannical Keith David newt. 

For now she has a test for each of the Plantars designed to deal with each of their issues: Polly has to go to Create a Carnivore, the second best Build-A-Bear parody i’ve seen, and i’ts only second because Tuca and Bertie had Build a Vibe, leading to this beautiful monstrosity. 

That was also this year. God this is a stacked year of animation. Anyways Polly has to build a Plushie, Anne presumibly gave her money, without getting into a fight due to her anger issues. As Anne points out getting angry at anyone isn’t great when their trying to keep a low profile. It was fine on Amphibia, there she was just a normal kid, but here a fight goes wrong, she could get hurt or have her wig fall off or both.

Sprig meanwhile has to learn to control his desire not to touch things out of curosity by going through a modern art exibit. He’s 11, he has poor impulse control, this makes sense. Finally Hop Pop.. has to go through the valley of the shadow of death.. aka the kisok alley and not sign up for anything. At first Hop Pop’s being scammed constnatly made no sense to me: he’s frugal and wise, he shoudl be used to cons. I realized though that that’s AMPHIBIA cons, ones that are more door to door salesman and stuff he can spot, magic potions and wart insurance. Here he’s being offered time shares, and cults and what not, stuff he’s just not used to realizing is a scam like we are. Anne threatens them that if they fail they won’t be allowed outside so they scamper while Anne watches from the top floor. 

So with that our heroes set out on their quests.. and are BARELY holding it together as you’d expect: Sprig is only not touching things because of the ban, several babies irritate Polly to the point she’s about to commit a LOT of infant on infant infanfcide, and Hop Pop looks creepy with his shaking as he resists the free stuff, attracting a mall cop.. hilariously because he looks exactly like the stranger danger poster. Honestly though all this does is make me miss Ron the Mall Cop from 6Teen, who if you’ve never heard of the show is about a bunch of teens hanging out at a mall. The Mall Cop ron was an overly serious fellow who looked and sounded like christopher walken. And if you don’t want to watch Christopher Walken guard a mall, I can’t help you or tell you while your here. 

So naturally one of Anne’s aquantinces shows up, because apparently she had more than two friends.. and sasha and marcie are more “friendships laced with romantic tension like a cupcake full of question marks and bees” than regular friendships. She won’t shut up about gossip so Anne’s distracted, which springs sprig into touching the art. Meanwhile the other two go off like the nukes their destined to be: Polly goes on a rampage after a  baby rips her completed plush in half and soon gets mobbed by babies and chased by their karen moms, while Hop Pop decides to swim in the fountain for coins which burns him and springs not-ron into action. 

Anne finally notices this, and springs into her own action, saving Sprig from the katamari ball of death, polly from the mob and then sics the mob on the security guy whose very clearly dead now. 

So with Ron dead and our heroes escaped, the Plantars are bummed they failed but Anne waves the challenge, admitting she shoudln’t of tried throwing them in the deep end , because that method of things is dumb about 80% of the time.  She just thought she was which the plantars laugh off. She was not and also nearly died a lot, including falling in quicksand and nearly getting carried away by bonejackers. So they get it and all hug. And go to get hop pop a shower before he dies. 

This episode was excellent and gives me hope for this half of the season, as Season 2a, while not bad, was a bit slow, especially at first. Instaed of building up the characters or lore on the road, it was just a bunch of side shenanigans that wasted the premise. In contrast Season 3 has hopped right to the right and limitless premise of putting the plantars on earth and in Anne’s shoe. 

This episode was also a welcome comedy focused episode, as last episode was light but stilll had a lot of emotional and plot stuff to unpack, and True Colors was...

That. So having a goofy episode about Polly trying to punch a child, Sprig making a katamari doll and Hop Pop turning green among MANY other amazing gags, was a nice breather, especially since it’s pairing episode... is another giant emotional punch to the gut. But it brings my favorite grandpa/child murder do back so let’s get onto that shall we?

Turning Point

So we’ve come to yet another Sasha and Grime episode

As any longtime reader knows, and your just finding out, these have been some of my faviorites series wide and some of the best stuff the show has put out, with Sasha’s tourtured character arc being one of the most engaging. The creators pulled off the difficult task of making a character whose both sympathetic but also a raging, backstabbing asshole with control issues. And they’ve done so well. And this episode takes it to his Apex as Sasha finally realizes the depths of whose she been.. and decides to change it. 

But  before we get there we have to go back a few days earlier, to the climax of True Colors, where we now see what happened immediately AFTER Anne ended up on earth. Sasha also saw the stabbing and was just as devistated, but Grime cuts through that, telling her they need to RUN. As they do two others try to run: Yunan and Olvia, who both CLEARLY want no part of their bosses mad schemes.. but are caught by him before they escape and thus swear their loyality to him to avoid dying horribly and are ordered to take Marcy to a healing tank. Sasha and Grime continue to try to escape and end up surrounded so Grime does the logical thing.. and throws his grandaughter out the window before doing a jump himself. But he forgot one part of the equation...

Thankfully an old friend who i’d honestly forgotten in the shuffle arrives. JOE SPARRRROWWWWWW. Who saves the two , recognizing them as friendly and the two take custody of him since his owner just got stabbed real bad. Problem is they can’t go back to toad tower... he’ll expect them. Plus he just destroyed one of the towers on a whim, so another isn’t that easy. And with most of their troops routed, they have no choice but to go the LAST place anyone would suspect.... all while Andrias, angry at ANOTHER loose end, sends a drone to tail them. 

Thus our heroes land in Wartwood, where the citizens are rightly worried about Anne and everything. Cue our anti-heroes arriving and Sasha bluffing, like Anne herself only telling HALF the truth: she tells them Andrias has gone mad with power and all that, but lies and says Anne is on a mission instead of back home, and that she and grime are here on Anne’s orders. They actually buy it as they trust Anne that much, and she’s more than earned it. So they accept our heroes. 

Naturally this makes Sasha feel worse, and she’s not on board with Grime’s plan to abandon them as soon as he finds anothe roffer. Sasha is tired of it, both drowning in her guilt and having finally realized the cost of what her actions have brought her: the constant lies, betrayal and conquest only drove the girl she loves away from her, and handed the entire world to a creepy sexy voiced Newt man who has eyes on her home world next. She’s lost everything, including her will to fight and with too much guilt asscoiated with the plantars house, she decides to bunk in the barn instead, refusing the comfort of the snails.... at first, as when she’s woken up by Miss Croaker, she’s cuddling both of them. 

She brought them a pie, something their just not used to. Usually their constantly fighting for their lives. Being warmly welcomed and treated like family is new. Hop Pop’s bed is also new and throughly squashed by grime... something I almost forgot to mention, thank god. Sasha is further rattled by wally, who annoys her with a friendship song and MADDIE RETURNS. FUCK YES. She also carries bread and takes Sasha running away frustrated as a sign she’s cutting down on carbs. Classic Maddie. 

The guilt of her lies is clearly tearing Sasha apart, and then she finds the scout. Her and Grime easily take care of it.. but there clearly will be more and Wartwood is now in direct danger. Sasha refuses to leave or keep going down her bad path while Grimes assumes she’s just shaken and wants to meet up with his sister’s forces, ordering her to go into the Plantar’s house and get her head on straight. 

So Sasha does, going to Anne’s room. Already shaken like a polaroid picture at the sight of all of Anne’s things she left, including the Domino plushie why’d she leave that?, she finds her journal... and is utterly broken, finding that Anne had really thought Sasha had changed and was so excited to go back... and thus realizes how badly she hurt Anne, nearly reconcliling.. only to shove it away because she HAD to be in control. She wants to be better.. someone who deserves her. I’m not reading into this, those were her exact words. 

So Grime leaves and Sasha heads to town square as a squadron of robo frogs arrive, confessing to the town that she lied, Anne is lost.. and that lies or no, Sasha’s going to protect them or die trying. She goes out and easily dispatches them... only to instead face a GIANT golden frog, revealing Belos has more than the simple soldiers or the assasian model we saw last time. He has giant tanklike robots that not only fir emissles but produce tons of smaller, weaker, ninja like frog troops. Sasha struggles her best but can’t fight the odds.... only for Grime to arrive. His sister has soldiers.. but only wartwood has his litenaut. Sasha hugs him and they prepare to stand alone.. only for the citzens to gladly aid them. As we’ve seen numerous times despite being seemingly harmless, the ctizens of wartwood, having ot survivie the worst of the bugs and other nightmares of amphiibia, are damn powerful in a scrap, and all of them get a godo showing and easily decimate the mini-frogs to Sasha’s astonishment. This leaves her and grime free to use the Golden Frog’s missles back on him, destroying it and saving the day. 

The Citzens of Wartwood accept Sasha: while she might of lied, she did the right thing in a pinch and they know there’s good in her... because she did what Anne would’ve. With that Sasha’s changed.... she’s realized what she was was wrong and she can’t continue like this, hurting people and trying to dominate. She’s now fighting not for herself, but for others, and for the greater good. And now she and Grime have their army.. it’s time to fight back. 

As should be obvious this episode is awesome, easily a best of the year contender. Seeing Sasha evolve, finally realizing the true weight of her actoins after backsliding last season and resolving to change is great and Anna Akana, as always, is phenominal in the role, showing off Sasha’s pain, depression.. and ultimatae rise to the hero she always could’ve been. It also gives the people of wartwood something to do while the main cast is on earth and having them become the rebel army, given just how deadly we’ve seen them be at times, is a perfect way to keep them around. Add in Grime being a delight as always, even adoping a fruit bat which is just the most adorable thing, please let us see this bat again, and you have one of the series best episodes. 

Next Week: 

Sp[ig fights a truck and the Plantars try to take a cat to the vet. None of this can end well. 

If you enjoy these reviews, consider comissioning one of your own or joining my patreon. Just one dollar a month gets you access to exclusive reviews, and said dollar will get me to review season 1 of Amphibia. All of it. 

[the-huntress]

Little Moth - Chapter 2 - A Friend

[Thank you to everyone that has read my story so far. I really hope that you enjoy it. My apologies for the slow burn, but all good things come to those that wait… <3]

Masterlist

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg. [18+]

Summary: Awoken by the clang of metal another strange dream haunts you as you make your journey towards the ominous ‘village’, searching for your life-long friend, Leon.

Trigger Warnings: Supernatural violence.

Song Suggestion: ‘Keep Me Alive’ by All We Are.

[Photos are my own] The next 24 hours were a blur; bagel, taxi, airport, flight, layover in airport, Frankfurter infused pretzel, flight to worryingly small airport, ride in the back of a 1980s Toyota pick-up truck (with cages full of chickens and feathers flying about), which took you to the smallest train station you’d ever seen (one platform), two steam trains later, a weakened moment of purchasing unidentified brand of cigarettes with picture of a goat on the front from a man that smells profusely like garlic, and then a moment of mildly suppressed panic at being in a completely unknown to you part of the world with not a word of Romanian to your repertoire.

Standing at what kind of looked like maybe the side of a road-ish, you pulled out the badly printed map, co-ordinates and a compass. You looked up at the sky, despite it being overcast the clouds were still thin enough to be able to see roughly where the sun was sat. It was 2pm, your phone no longer had a hope in hell of working out here signal wise, but at least for now, it could tell you the time, after that it would just be you and the sun.

You couldn’t deny as the treck took you further away from the already very small towns and villages, and further into the countryside and wilderness, that the landscape was incredibly beautiful. Snow-capped mountains, like you’d never seen anywhere but the movies graced the horizon, leafless tree branches began to out-number their more lustrous looking sisters, and yet, dotted amongst the white, a spattering of green, forests and woodlands a-like, untouched by the torrents of snow, as if by some magic. The fresh air in your lungs made you feel powerful somehow, like you were on a path leading to destiny, something inside you was being fulfilled. Even during the time sat alone on the steam train, staring at the hillsides and woodlands as they flew past, catching your own reflection in the glass here and there, you’d felt as if you were heading towards something exciting yet familiar.

The day seemed to go much faster than you’d imagined, but then it was late into the year, the days much shorter. Grateful for the fact that you’d chosen to wear a zip up hoodie under your usual work jacket, you still had to give the tops of your arms a rub with your gloved hands. You’d also prepared with thin leggings under your black combat trousers and worn hiking socks under your military boots. There was still more than enough light to see, but the Village was still not yet in sight. The hike had been challenging, your knee was now starting to protest, both with an ache and with a sharpness too it. Just a little further, you thought, wincing against it.

You stopped dead in your tracks. There was a noise nearby but not anything that you were used to. What was that? A train? There were no train tracks running through this part of the wilderness as far as you knew, you’d hoped not at least, else you’d be kicking yourself in the ass if you could have saved yourself from the pain that you were in after all this time. A rumbling, chundering, rickety sound, drawing closer and closer. A light in the distance, a lantern, two of them, swinging wildly now on the front of a carriage and a man’s face, crazed with panic, and what a man, at least two times the size in both height and girth of anyone that you’d ever met before.

“Run my darling adventurer, run, for it is not safe for you here!” He yelled towards you. But you couldn’t, you were frozen solid, seeing now what he was trying to escape; and you’d thought this man was larger than life. What approached behind him… was unearthly. The wind was thrown out of you as you were yanked by the collar and swung onto the back of the carriage. The man had tossed you up to at least temporary safety, although how stable this thing was you did not know. You stared back towards the rear of the carriage, eyes narrowing on what you now identified as your target. In short, you could see some kind of humanoid being, roughly 8 foot tall, muscles rippling, pale, sallow skin, with patches of thick hair covering various parts of its body, a loin cloth, beady, mean cold gold eyes, pointed ears and a mouth full of needle sharp teeth. Hurtling along in front of it, in its grasp were two humungous beasts, covered in shaggy hair, almost like two huge dogs or bears, but with some of the most nightmarish faces that you’d ever seen. All you could see was that fact that they wanted nothing more than to tear you limb from limb.

You didn’t mess around for shit and your pistol was in your hand before you could say ‘boulder punching bastard’. You fired one, two, three times, each shot tearing through the shoulders of the front two beasts.

“You really think that thing is going to take them down?” Yelled the driver, craning his head around to take a quick glance at you. You grimaced, thrown down to the roof by a sudden jolt, and quickly tore your glance back at your enemies. They were closing the gap.

“Make a quick turn, here, around that rock!” You yelled, pointing ahead. The man began his manoeuvre as you’d instructed, and without question, for which you were grateful, you only had a couple of seconds to act and one shot at this. You pulled the aerosol from your pocket. This wasn’t just any can, this was something that you’d created yourself. Looked like a normal deodorant or spray can for sure except for two minor differences; it was re-fillable, and it had a range of up to 15 feet. You swiped the lighter back from your cap and took aim, lighter in your left hand in front, aerosol in your right hand, the U-turn took your right back past the trio as they came tearing down the slope. The noise wasn’t quite deafening, but it was loud enough, and you’d succeeded. The two hairy beasts were covered in flames and yelping, running frantically and tore off into the forest. HAHA! You laughed, another bump and you were back on the roof, stealing a glance at the man steering who had a grin on his face too. “Trick shot!” You called back.

The wolven giant roared in fury, for he was scorched, but his rage burned savagely more so than any flame that you could create.

“Very good little moth, but we need something bigger for that one. In the carriage, the room below you there is something that will help, you will know it when you see it, retrieve it now.” You nodded, not noticing for a moment what he’d called you, but you didn’t have time to think and ask. You slid down through the small hatch in the roof, just wide enough for your body, some kind of sky light you guessed and fell to the floor. The dwindling sun light now blazing red over the horizon and through the silhouettes of the trees lit the inner carriage just enough for you to take in what was around you; a lot of meat for one thing. You were never any good at hiding your thoughts on your face, but no one was here to see that right now. There were a couple of larger crates, a globe, typewriter, trinket boxes. Parts rolled and rattled, but you knew what you were here for, right in front of you on the bed. You pulled yourself back up through the hatch.

“This it?” You called to him, holding up a hefty and yet ornate bow. It seemed to be built in the way that somewhat resembled a modern-day compound bow but had a more traditional look to its materials and smaller details. “That’s the one’” he called back. “Here, take these.” He went to pass a bundle of arrows without quiver, but as he did so the beast threw itself at the back of the carriage. You yelled, the impact threw you into the arrows, your blood now over a few of the heads, and all at once you were thrown into darkness, your back slamming against the floor of the inside of the carriage. Shaking your head, you realised what had happened, scrambling on the floor and grabbing as many of the spilled arrows up as you could. Blood began to soak the garments covering your right hip. It was just a flesh wound, but deep enough to sting, reminding you of a time in your childhood when you’d crawled through brambles and the thorns had left 12 longs scars down your torso.

Back on your feet, you booted the doors open, throwing them into the beast’s face, both his clawed hands firmly sunk into the wood either side of the carriage, half running, half being dragged along. He reared his head and roared at you, and you roared back, raising the first arrow and taking aim. “FUCK YOU!” You cried out, the arrow sliced through his cheek but this only made him angrier, throwing one arm into the carriage now, half in, the other arm pulled him further, you realised quickly with terror that you were very quickly being pinned against the bed at the back. It grabbed you around your waist, yanking you down onto the floor, roaring madly once again, into your face, the foulest smelling breath hot and slick with spittle. Something crashed off the shelf above you and onto its head, almost like it shot out of place of its own accord, against the natural trajectory of the way of which the carriage was now turning. It threw the beast back out of the carriage and you only had a moment to grab onto a fixture on the wall which held tools in place before you felt the carriage begin to topple and hurtle.

You lost count of how many rolls it took, but when it stopped it was deathly silent, like a veil had been pulled over this part of the woods. Rain began to fall on the deathly branches above in the would-be canopy. You pulled yourself out, scathed and bleeding, but you weren’t done. Good job you’d thought to throw on your light armour mid hike. You looked around at the driver, he didn’t say anything, but he was breathing. “Are you ok, friend?” You asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He brought his head up and looked up at you. “Yes.” He replied, placing one of his hands over yours. You nodded and started walking to the hulking heap of hair, blood and muscle only meters away. With each step you took you felt the presence of something growing behind you, like a shadow. The sound of metal scraping. “He’s here.” You heard your companion breathe. You had no idea who or what he meant, but right now you had one thing on your mind and that was your kill.

Still closing the gap without a falter, you took three arrows that you had clipped to your bag only moments ago, set their heads ablaze with the fluid and lighter. You set them against the nock, the flames burning bright now in your eyes, and a shower of metal, knives, bullets, scraps came flying down from around you and into the flesh of the beast. They didn’t just stop upon impact, they kept going, embedding themselves further and further into its flesh. It bellowed and swung its arms in pain, standing tall above you, arching it’s back, but still you stood your ground, unblinking, until it fell back down to the ground, writhing now. You leapt up onto its twisting shoulder, taking aim with the bow and let the trio of burning arrows do their work, shattering through the skull, two ending it all at once, and one at an angle coming back halfway out of its blood shot eye.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity. Staring and waiting. No thoughts going through your mind, the darkness in you waning back to the parts of your mind where it usually hid, flowing away like black smoke or the tide going out.

Something was calling. Not out loud, but in your head, your heart, something was calling just for you, but without any sound. You looked up towards the carriage, which strangely was now upright again, though in a bit of a mess, your friend there besides it, a little worse for wear, and a glint of light, the reflection of the flames that had begun to grow around you in the darkness just beyond, the crunch of the undergrowth, and whatever it was, was gone.

[kwinsispn3]

Shopping Spree

anon request: Hiya Kay! Hope all is with you you and your readers during this time of self isolation.Got a cutesy, and yes, very funny idea for u in which S & D spend time @ the mall w/ their sis, set specifically inside a lingerie store( ex. Victoria Secret). Needless to say, embarrassment(@sis's expanse) & hilarity ensue in which D models bras, offer non helpful suggestions to sis, and just acts like a real dork, while S appears MAJORLY uncomfortable/embarrassed by the whole thing. Can be as silly as u want

Word Count: 1,200

A/N: I honestly did not know what to call this fic lol. But two fics being posted within a week.....!! Finishing up some old requests so once I'm done with those I will open requests again! Also thought this gif was perfect XD

It had been a few days since any of you had found any recent hunting leads, and you desperately needed to get out of the bunker for a while. You know your brothers did too, but you've been around them all week and decided to take yourself on a little shopping trip. It wasn't that often that you got to spoil yourself with new clothes, you thought it would be a nice outing, until Dean had to be nosy.

“Hey, you wanna watch this movie with Sammy and I? Pretty sure this is the uncut version too.” Dean snarked as he held up the dvd case.

“Sounds fun, but I’m actually gonna go on a little shopping trip.” You said as you packed your wallet into your bag. 

“Oh, uh we can tag along with you...” Dean suggested.

“That’s okay, I kind of just need to get out for a while.” You declined politely.

“That makes 3 of us. We’ve all been cooped up in here when were not out hunting. Let’s make it a trip!” Dean cheered.

“Uh, actually-”

“Hey Sammy!” Dean cut you off as he went to fetch Sam.

“Ugh, you've got to be kidding me.” You muttered as you grabbed your stuff.

You three drove to the mall that was a little far, but it had a variety of stores to shop from so you didn't mind. You just didn't think you would have your older brothers tagging along with you. And from your past experience, Sam and Dean hated going shopping, unless it was something in their interest. So you guessed they must've been pretty desperate to get out of the house. But, you weren't gonna let that stop you from enjoying your shopping trip.

You started with a few of your favorite clothing stores, browsing in a few of then you finally found the one that carried stuff more your style. Picking out a couple of shirts and jeans, you turned to your brothers that had been following you around as they ate their mall pretzels. 

“I’m gonna try these on, why don't you guys go look for some things that you like?” You suggested, trying to get them out of your hair for a while.

“Fine. Meet us back by the food court in an hour.” Dean finally agreed.

You tried on a few tops, flannels, and some jeans. Then realizing you could really use some new bras. You wanted a few that you could wear while you weren't hunting, something other than sports bras.

After purchasing the few outfits, you made your way over to the food court. Sam and Dean were sitting on one of the couches with drinks in their hand.

“Did you guys get more food?” You asked, kind of hoping they got something for you.

“Uh, no. Just these.” Dean motioned to his drink cup.

“Sure.... look I wanted to stop by one more store so I’ll be back here in about 30 minutes.” 

“No, c’mon we’ve been sitting here for 30 minutes.” Dean whined.

“Did you guys even buy anything?” You motioned to the bag.

“Yeah, this.” Sam handed you the bag. You pulled out a package out of the Spencers gifts bag and looked it over to see that Dean had bought a fake pile of vomit for pranks.

“Why did you show her?” Dean said with disappointment. 

“Because it’s stupid and she probably wouldn't fall for it anyway.” Sam sighed.

“Whatever, I’ll be back in a bit.” You scoffed.

“Don’t worry, we’re coming with you.” Dean said as he hoisted himself up from the couch.

You knew you weren’t gonna convince your giant twelve year old brothers to sit still any longer so you just kept walking to the underwear store that you wanted to go to. 

“Uh, Dean let’s just wait out here, I don't think she’ll be too long.” Sam huffed as he saw that you went into the Victoria’s Secret.

“Dude, what are you embarrassed? It’s just a store.” Dean nudged Sam as he walked in.

Sam sighed and just followed Dean, not wanting to awkwardly wait outside the store by himself. 

You walked through the aisles and looked at the mannequins and saw a few lace bras that you thought looked comfortable. Grabbing a few, you turned around and saw to your surprise that your brothers had followed you in there.

“Sheesh, how many bras does a girl need?” Dean joked around looking around.

“However many she wants.” You said, not letting your awkward older brothers embarrass you. “I’m gonna go try a few things on.” You motioned to the fitting rooms.

Dean continued to walk around with a very uncomfortable Sam following closely behind. He started looking through the drawers and found a bra with spikes on it, Dean grabbed it and put it around his chest.

“Like what you see, Sammy?” Dean joked.

“Can you put that down.” Sam whispered as he saw a few stares.

“Guess not.” Dean laughed. Once you came out of the fitting room you looked around for a while. Dean showed you his cool find.

“You should get this one, Y/N.” Dean suggested sarcastically.

“Looks like something you'd find at hot topic.” You laughed. Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean started trying on more stuff that was within reach. “Hey I didn't know they sold more stuff besides underwear here.” He said as he put on a pair of girly sunglasses.

“I can't take you anymore.” Sam told Dean as he walked out swiftly.

“What’s up with him?” You asked.

“Who knows. Probably crabby that I dragged him in here. Anyway, you almost done? I kinda wanna get back.” Dean looked at his watch.

“Yeah, and so much for getting you two out of the house.” You laughed as you turned to go wait in line.

....................

You walked out of the store with your bags in your hands. “You ready to go?”

“Yes.” Sam said abruptly.

“Aw, do you feel all awkward?” You teased him.

“No, just wanna get back.” Sam lied. You and Dean looked at each other and silently laughed to one another.

Who knew shopping with your brothers would take so much energy, and embarrassment on Sam’s end.

You drove home since it was your idea to go out. Dean rarely let you drive baby, but he was in a good mood and made an exception. Dean adjusted his long limbs in the back seat, trying to get comfortable.

“So, with what you just bought, who are you planning to wear all that for.....” Dean spoke up.

“Myself actually, if you should be so nosy.” Rolling your eyes at Dean’s overprotective ways.

“It better be for yourself....” Dean trailed off with sarcasm.

“Shut up, Dean. They're just clothes. Can’t a girl feel good for once, it’s not that often I go shopping.” You retorted.

“Whatever you say.” Dean said.

You let out a sigh as you kept your eyes on the road. You hoped to Chuck that you could get out by yourself sooner or later. These brothers of yours could be too much at times, but damn you were grateful for them either way. No matter how dorky they were....

Requests Are Closed

Taglist:

@jackjackljaqui ​@hunting-the-grievers @susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @justsomedreaming 

[destiny-islanders]

Hey Destiny! Planning my first trip to WDW any advice :)

(I do hope you’re planning to go after the pandemic has been dealt with first off-- there are shops, restaurants, and certain experiences/shows that will be unavailable if you go around now-ish, and as far as I know they’re still charging full-price admission. So not only is it dangerous, it’s not worth it.)

But if you try and go next year sometime when life has presumably returned to normal...

If you can, stay on property! 

Not a requirement obviously, but WDW has transportation that can get you to and from the parks so you don’t have to deal with the parking lots at the parks themselves. It’s also really nice as an adult to go to EPCOT and drink around the world without having to worry about who’s driving back

It also makes staying for the fireworks much less painful... Like it is excruciating to trudge back to your car after spending all day at the park and having to deal with the insane crowds leaving the park, and traffic in the parking lots...

Staying on property allows you to get Fast Passes and make dining reservations a whole month before other guests can. Which ties into my next point...

GET FASTPASSES AND DINING RESERVATIONS AS EARLY AS POSSIBLE

If you want to go to Magic Kingdom and go on the Mine Train, Space Mountain, and Splash Mountain with FastPass, you need to have them booked sooner rather than later. Find out when you can book FastPasses and get them the second you can.

If you couldn’t get FastPasses for it, get to the park when it opens and make a beeline to your #1 attraction

I live in Florida and I have an annual pass, so it’s not a big deal if I can’t go on my favorite rides because the lines are too long. But if you’re from out of state and this is going to be your only chance to go to Disney for the year or even YEARS, arriving early is a must

Trying to get on Rise of the Resistance (the fancy new Star Wars ride) in Hollywood Studios?

You need to be inside the park before it opens. Period. That is the only way to ensure you can get on this ride since it is insanely popular. Once inside the park, you need to use the MyDisney app to secure your place in a virtual queue. Everyone in your group needs to be registered on the MyDisney app or you will not be able to make a reservation for them. Once you’ve made the reservation, you’re free to roam the park as you will until it’s your turn to ride

Grossed out by crowded public restrooms? Use one in a sit-down restaurant.

Obviously please don’t bring your whole family into a restaurant to use its restroom. I’m talking like if one or two people in your group have to go. Just walk into the restaurant like you already have a table and go to the restroom in there. Though all of the restrooms at WDW are usually well-maintained, imo they’re even nicer in the sit-down restaurants haha. This tip is a little prissy but eh. Thought I’d include it

Disney snacks you are required by law to try

Magic Kingdom

Cheshire Cat Tail (Really yummy for breakfast while you wait in line for one of your first rides of the day)

Dole Whip Ice Cream (IT’S DAIRY FREE-- my fellow lactose-intolerant people can eat it worry-free!!!)

Sweet and Spicy Chicken and Waffle sandwich (Split with friends if you have lunch or dinner plans-- delicious snack to eat between rides or at a show)

GET A BIRTHDAY CAKE SCONE FROM THE CANDY SHOP/BAKERY!!! THEY ARE MY FAVORITE DISNEY TREATS AND I ALWAYS BRING LIKE 2 OR 3 HOME WITH ME

Animal Kingdom

Cinnamon roll (A classic-- and again, a perfect breakfast treat to share while you queue)

Night Blossom (Or its alcoholic equivalent-- really yummy slushies perfect to sip on in the outdoor queues in Avatar world)

Blueberry Cream Cheese Mousse (Need I say more? Yes it’s kind of dangerous if you can’t handle dairy though. Maybe steal a bite from someone’s just to experience life’s fleeting joys)

EPCOT

Adults who booze are obligated imo to get a Grey Goose Lemonade slushie in France. Tangy and sweet. COLD. Delicious.

Tarte aux Fraises (Honestly you can’t go wrong with anything in France... everything I’ve tried there is amazing...)

Giant pretzel (Not exactly a Disney-exclusive thing but... they’re humongous and a great snack to share with a group)

Side note while we’re in Germany-- there’s a little bar tucked into the corner near the back of this area. If you’re drinking around the world, go in there and get Apfel shots. Trust me I have good taste.

If they have them when you’re there... You need to get a meat bun in Japan. They are one of my favorite things to get at Disney Springs or in the parks when they’re available.

Hollywood Studios

(I’m not gonna lie this is not the park to get your snack on. There’s only one snack here I’m super passionate about...)

If you’re there around breakfast time (which you will be if you got there early for Star Wars), the S’mores French Toast in Toy Story Land is DELICIOUS. Just grab napkins. A lot of napkins.

Giant pretzel 

This is not a recommendation, this is a warning: THE MILK IN STAR WARS LAND IS GROSS AND I HATED EVERY SECOND A DROP OF IT WAS IN MY MOUTH

Rides you should try to do while you’re in the park

Magic Kingdom

Space Mountain

Splash Mountain (I wear a poncho because I hate having wet clothes,,,,,)

I think Thunder Mountain is kinda lame but I guess it’s worth doing if the line isn’t terribly long

Dwarf Mine Train

Pirates of the Caribbean

Buzz Lightyear Space Ranger Spin (smacktalk in the queue and try to maintain your dignity when you get 9000 points and all of your friends have nearly broken 1 million)

Haunted Mansion

Mickey’s Phillarmagic

Animal Kingdom

Expedition Everest

It’s Tough To Be a Bug (this show will probably terrify your young children if you have any, just a warning)

Flight of Passage (I GUESS... none of the rides in the Avatar section of the park are worth a 2 hour wait if you ask me...)

Dinosaur (again, this ride will probably terrify your young children... I think it’s scarier than Jurassic Park at Universal if you can believe it)

Kilimanjaro Safari (get a Fast Pass for this one-- it’s probably one of the most popular attractions in AK)

Kali River Rapids (in which I once again don a poncho like a 50-year-old man)

Festival of the Lion King (corny as hell but it’s fun)

EPCOT

(If you’re not here to check out the exhibits in each country idk what you’re doing here haha)

Test Track (honestly the only ride I like there)

Spaceship Earth (yes it’s a slow dark ride but it’s really charming and there’s a bit at the end that will probably make you and your group cry laughing)

Gran Fiesta Tour (It’s hidden in the temple in Mexico. Cute little boat ride with Donald and the Three Caballeros)

Soarin’ (My friends and I have an endurance competition to see who can keep their legs held out straight the longest throughout the ride. We got some of the people sitting around us to join in the last time we rode which was pretty hilarious haha)

I’ve heard the Frozen ride is fun, but I’ve never ridden on it myself, so I can’t really comment on it

Note about Mission Space: I got really sick on this ride, and I rode the TAME version. Most of my friends also get sick on this ride. It’s worth trying once if you’re really curious, but I was knocked on my ass for half of my day at EPCOT after riding this one.)

Hollywood Studios

Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster (A really fun ride but try to keep your head back or you will have a headache all day... Bring ibuprofen.)

Tower of Terror (Probably one of my favorite Disney rides in any park. Will most likely further terrify your small children who may still be traumatized from the bugs and dinosaurs of Animal Kingdom)

Rise of the Resistance (I don’t care about Star Wars but uh. Yeah. This ride was pretty dope.)

Smuggler’s Run (One of the more immersive rides I’ve been on... The ride vehicle is cool as all get-out and there are lots of buttons you can push and levers to pull... Blame one of your friends for being a bad pilot when you only manage to snag two pieces of cargo)

Toy Story Mania (exhaust yourself and make your arms really sore as you desperately try to exert your dominance over your friends as you pop balloons with darts and throw rings around volcanos before they erupt)

MuppetVision (I’m a Muppets ride or die fan and I still think this ride is charming and funny. There’s usually never a line so it’s a perfect break in the air conditioning with beloved characters)

Minnie and Mickey’s Runaway Railway (I haven’t gotten to ride this yet, but I’ve heard good things-- and the Mickey shorts this ride is based on are HILARIOUS, so I expect good things)

Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular (DISCLAIMER: Only really fun if someone in your group is selected to be one of the townsfolk. My sister got picked last time and it was hilarious)

Fantasmic! (I like all of the fireworks shows minus the Star Wars one in HS because I really don’t care but. Fantasmic stands out. You have to watch it at least once. Try to catch the first show if you can so you can avoid some of the rush of guests leaving the park at the very end of the night)

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

so to tackle the elephant in the room, what are your thoughts on the whole "everyone used to agree P5 was the greatest game ever but now everyone calls it cringey or bad what happened?" thing that's happened since....i think sometime after Royal? i mean, you are the og p5 later haha

Off topic answer: There’s an elephant? Where? 0<0 0>0 :0

Short answer: Yeah I’m not surprised it’s happening (there’s a cycle and its about that time in the cycle).

Long answer: 

Despite being an “OG P5 hater”.....I.....really didn’t want to become one. I really fought hard to reason with the faults I saw with P5. Like Anne, an early analysis (not on tumblr) I had of her was she was like Naoto, had a hard time reading the room (and was an airhead).....but like....that only tracks on the CoOp, it doesn’t with the main story (it’s a giant contradiction of her character). Main Story!Anne wouldn’t make the same mistakes with Mika that CoOp!Anne does.

I twisted myself into a pretzel after I played it in Japanese because......even tho I know something felt off, I was like “no! It must be something I didn’t understand! The english ver will clear things up!” And then the english ver came out and....and by the time I got to the 3rd dungeon, the game had me viscerally recoiled against what it was doing. And that’s around the time I became disillusioned with P5. I mean, while I was trying to figure out what was “off” about P5 prior to the english release, I did read one post or two discussing their issues and I was like “hmmm I’ll keep this in mind when I play it in english and see if I can catch it! :)” and......yeah.....those issues were bad but they didn’t completely encompass what I wasn’t prepared for. 

So despite me being an OG P5 hater, it was never my intent to be one. It just happened.

And the devil on my shoulder, salty goblin part of me is “Yes! I’m glad people are noticing the faults in P5! If there’s more of this, then that might mean P5 can crash and burn and we won’t get anymore and I’ll be out of this hellhole!” (overtly hopeful and unlikely I’m aware). 

Another part is....tired, because I know there’s a good portion of these “haters” that probs never played the game, aren’t fans of the series, and don’t fully understand and “appreciate” what’s wrong with P5. They are just jumping on a bandwagon to bully fans rather than to just....criticize the game. And that’s not cool, they don’t get love from me. 

I also hate the idea that “P5 is cringe” it’s not. 1) P5 has actual issues with it’s lessons and messages, 2) cringe culture is stupid and you should be having fun. You want to write that Goro/Mona fanfic? Go for it. You want to do TikTok dances dressed as Makoto? Go for it. You think Futaba’s weird gremlin internet speak is the funniest thing? More power to you. You get excited when you see Tokyo irl or in another game cause it reminds you of P5? You own that and have fun! You want to make “they’ll never see it coming” jokes all day long? Or Pancake jokes? Sure I might be tired of them but if that’s what makes you happy you go for it. You wanna hc something about a char (even if it’s controversial)? As long as you aren't pushing it as canon and insulting people and pushing it down my/other’s throats then I literally don’t care. 

Some things that are fun for you might not be fun for me and that’s fine. Vice versa is fine too. Some people might not like my nendo obsession or my custom nendos, or my videos, or my edits, or my colorings, or my jokes/memes, or my theories, or my rants, or my analyses. And that’s fine, I’m doing it for me, cause I think it’s fun and enjoy doing it and I want to share it. 

Shit, like I’mma be using “I’ve been waiting for this!” till I die. Not because I think it’s super funny, but because I like using that reference as a means to show that I, in fact, have been waiting for this and am excited. 

Just have fun. Stop worrying about what other’s think. Twitter (which is where I find most of these attitudes happening on) is just the same cycle as people saying pokemon isn’t cool any more in middle school and getting picked on for it, and then “suddenly” becoming cool again because some popular kid said it was. None of it matters just have fun.

“But Silly if none of it matters then why be salty?” Maybe the futility, I can’t change anything, but it’s still frustrating. Hard to change what you feel, even if you want to ignore it. But ignore that, do what makes you happy. As long as you aren’t hurting anyone of course.

Ah...but maybe I should mention my theory on how it was considered amazing vs now. At least with (early) reviewers, my theory is that....they either 1) didn’t get far enough into the game to see it’s faults, 2) didn’t catch the faults (P5 just....dumps so much text onto you), 3) they don’t see the faults via because they haven’t played the other games. For point one, I think they most likely barely go to around dungeon 2 (where there’s issues but they aren’t as apparent). It takes over 6 hours to get through Kamo’s dungeon, let alone getting to Madarame’s....and considering how well written Kamo’s is, I wouldn’t be surprised if the (early) reviewers assumed the rest of the writing was like that. People jumped on the bandwagon. Of course that’s just a theory/thought that crossed my mind...I’d need to dig through early reviews and I just don’t feel like it. It’s not that important of a theory for me. But if it turned out true, it wouldn’t surprise me. 

Tldr; I’m sure there are a good number of people being disillusioned with P5, but there’s also some people who are just using it as a means to bully other’s and that’s not cool. If you like P5 just own it who cares. I like P4 even with it’s faults (some justified and some just made up by the fans cause they have their own idea of how things should work), I’m doing just fine. Separate yourself from the “fandom” if you need to (I did with P4 back in 2014, haven’t really missed anything new since)

[bmichael]

So Long Gone

13.1 miles at 10:28 per mile.

2020-10-12

Yesterday was Columbindigenous Peoples’ Day. It was also the first day off I’ve had in honestly I can’t remember when. Well, actually, I kind of can. I was very sick, and Luna and my partner were in New York, and I lay on the couch all day. I watched Good Time on Netflix and dozed. The movie was great, the day sucked.

I spent yesterday similarly, but it was great!

Parenting, at least the way I do, I never get a day off. When Luna’s off from pre-k, I spend the day with her. On the weekends, when I don’t have work, I spend the day with her. On the weekends when I do have work, I spend the day with her. It’s a lot, but I love it. But of course I hate it, too. How can you not hate never having any time to yourself?

After I dropped Luna off to pre-k I went home and had some leftover sausage and bread. Then I lay on the couch for about 3 hours playing Hades on my Switch and listening to podcasts. 

On Sunday I thought I was coming down with something. I went for a quick run (3 miles at 10:35 per mile) and felt better. At some point between that moment and sleep, I decided I’d go for a long run the next day, and I’d do it somewhere nice.

See, we’ve lived in Syracuse (formerly of Flatbush Brooklyn) for almost two years, and have gone on plenty of weekend adventures to lakes, forests, and trails, but always as a family. Or, more often, Luna and me. Never just myself. I knew there were some good trails along the Erie Canal, so I figured I’d go out there. I’d gone there with Luna a few times, but I couldn’t remember the precise trailhead we used. I googled around Monday morning and found on in Camillus, which was only like 15 minutes away. 

It’s incredible how far a 15 minute drive can transport you.

Around noon, after digesting and gathering energy for a few hours, I drove out to the trailhead. It was a glorious day marked with an inauspicious start. I forgot my gum, my water, and a mask, so I found myself pulling my tech shirt up over my nose with one hand while I rooted around in a Byrne Dairy to get water and gum. I got a big Smartwater of high-PH alkaline water because the label was black and I thought it looked cool. It tasted like... water.

The trail near the trailhead was beautiful. It ran along the canal for two miles. Then, the way most of these trails work out here, they’ll cross a country road and then go on further, isolated from the roads or at least well separated. The next phase was hilly and seemed to be popular with dog walkers. It looked kind of scrubby and industrial. The stretch after that looked even more industrial, with some big Honeywell site fenced off. Finally, after crossing another road, I was in this weird Wizard of Oz type countryside with giant, feral-looking stalks of corn growing beyond a fairly fresh made wooden fence spanning the length of the trail for as far as I could see. On my left was a quiet country road and the random industrial-looking plant or whatever. Giant power line poles with DANGER HIGH VOLTAGE signs. 

Over the course of this first out, my knee started acting up. Around mile 3 I was worried I wouldn’t be able to go as far as I kind of thought I wanted to go. I hadn’t set an official goal or intent, but I knew I wanted to run at least a half marathon, maybe even 16 miles to go longer than I ever had before. Since I was on day 62 of a run streak, I thought it may be a bit foolish to push myself so far, but this countryside.

After running out a bit over 5 miles, I figured I’d turn around and see how I felt after 10 miles. I knew if I felt half alive, I’d make it to 13.1, and I was right. Around mile 8 the struggle was real. I felt like my arms were windmilling, but they were probably barely pumping. My cadence felt impossibly fast and the sound of my feet on the gravel trail sounded like an elephant charge. But my watch said I was barely going 11:00/mile.

I had started out listening to my running playlist, hitting some emotional highs. After maybe an hour I switched over to my audiobook of Malazan, though, and just powered through like miles 5 through 9. After I felt like I was really starting to lose it—despite having plenty of energy in my heart my legs were dying—I turned back to music.

I finally made it back to my car around mile 10, and went for a water break. (Yes, I ran for like an hour and forty-five minutes with nothing but gum. When I began running, I’d get so mad at people who suggested you didn’t need to constantly scarf down water while you were running because running was THIRSTY WORK. But after a few years (?) I don’t really need to drink water when I’m running. I mean, it HELPS, but it’s not necessary.) But in this case, yes, the water was glorious. I also found a few pretzels and chocolate left over from visiting a pumpkin farm Saturday, and god those were amazing.

The first part of the final 3.1 miles kind of sucked. I crossed the road the other way to run on a new part of the trail, and I somehow missed the actual trail and ran for about a mile on a shitty access road to a gun range. It was loose-yet-hard and the odd car went by. When I actually got back onto the Erie Canal trail, it was much better. You were right next to the water, the sun on this side of the wherever I was had come out. I really felt the water and snacks I’d crushed, and knowing I was all but sure to finish felt nice.

The last half mile or so back to the parking lot felt glorious. I hit my mark, crossed the road, and basically started laughing out of joy as I threw myself down on a grassy hill next to the trailhead.

Running in the actual countryside gave my better feelings and stronger energy than I can recall having in like, a long time. It was truly restorative. It feels a bit like a gut punch that I could probably run in a place like that everyday or several times a week if I could “carve out” a little more time alone. I guess I’ll work on it.

I was planning on using this post to talk about the injury I had in March and how I never thought I’d be able to run much again. But perhaps I’ll do that in a later one. I was so happy yesterday. It feels foolish to end on a down note, now.

[angeltrapz]

helo beloved mutual connor, im sorry ur goin thru it rn but i come bearing asks n a heart emoji (💗): bcuz i have had this thought floatin around for a lil bit, wld love 2 hear ur takes on an Adam/Eric/Mallick (+ Art too if u want!) road trip vacation! how long wld they go, do they get motels or camp or just sleep in th car? whats everyone's favorite road trip snack? what sorta shit do they like 2 stop for? (weird tourist traps like giant balls of yarn etc, small town main street stores, cool looking restaurants, nature sites, Actual Destinations, so on n so forth!)

fjkdsd thank u beloved mutual adam,,, <3

ohhh I love tht idea!! road trip fics/hcs are one of my weaknesses,,

but um!! I rly like the idea of th four of them going camping a few hours up north!! (we... don't rly know where. SAW is set so just. imagine a vaguely rural campground lmao. I'm used to camping in th upper peninsula of MI so) it's smth tht Art did a lot w his family when he was growing up, so he's th most familiar w it - Eric went a few times as a kid too, Mallick went Once, n Adam has never rly been camping, w his family or otherwise (he's slept on a trampoline at one of his friends' houses once tho). Art is p excited abt it tbh, it's not exactly smth he gets 2 do often so he's got this whole list planned of things he wants 2 show them!!

it's easiest 2 just take a week in late August, bc they can head back home on a Friday n have the weekend to settle n readjust b4 th coming week + they have to go back 2 work. so they head out around ten on a Monday morning 2 kind of get ahead of th traffic (or at least try to). Art drives both bc he insists and bc he knows they can switch if he needs to, which he does later w Eric. it's a good couple hours (at least 3) b4 they get 2 th campground Art wants to take them to, so clearly it is Music Time + Adam made sure 2 bring CDs! a lot of that time is just spent vibing 2 th music and singing very, very loudly (ESP on Adam + Mallick's end). Art's up front like u three are so fucking goofy (affectionate), but eventually he starts singing too lmao.

Mallick starts th Colour Game, where they try 2 find a car fr every colour of th rainbow. it's smth Eric is familiar w as well bc he used 2 play it w Daniel sometimes, and it's good until they come to purple bc how often do u see purple cars??? so Adam's just like "we're not gonna find pink either" n tht's when this fucking pink pickup truck (noticeably spray-painted, + not done well) passes them n Adam just groans n thumps his head against th window. Mallick is like, trying rly hard not to laugh by pressing a hand over his mouth + Art is biting his lip, but Eric is very openly cackling bc "u see what happens when u assume???" (he gets a very light slap 2 th shoulder but it's still very gentle)

ANYWAY. favourite snacks!! Adam can eat Way Too Many Sour Patch Kids. sour anything, actually, as long as it's candy. yes his tongue hurts and no he doesn't regret it. Eric just gets goldfish bc he tends 2 get a lil carsick + bc it's a food tht's familiar n comforting, n he doesn't rly want 2 be eating anything Too heavy (he's up front w Art, so he can sit by a window in case he needs some fresh air at any point). Mallick likes m&m's, but he switches fr cheez-its every once in a while bc he can only eat so much chocolate. Art likes those peanut-butter filled pretzel bites! he's also partial 2 animal crackers tho. they also bring a good amount of snacks/things they can b sure th four of them like, bc yeah there's a lil store abt a half hour away frm their campsite + they can go there to pick up things if they need 2, but it's easier 2 bring things they like, too. (there's also a mcdonald's in tht town n. they do go there at LEAST twice.)

th campsite they stay at has a lake + a beach, n one of Art + Adam's fave things 2 do is walk along it to see if they can find anything interesting! Mallick goes sometimes too, but mostly he stays w Eric bc Eric can't do tht fr as long as Adam + Art can (not tht he's resentful of it tho). he n Mallick chill on th beach w a blanket (it's kind of like. not necessarily sandy?) n just kinda sit against/lay on each other n read sometimes. Adam + Art come back 2 where they're set up to find them sleeping n Adam has never been more thankful he thought 2 bring his camera!!

on th second day Art + Mallick want 2 go swimming, so th four of them come back out to th beach, but Adam stays out of th water + Eric stays w him. they both know th water will be cold, even if it's late summer, n Adam rly doesn't like being in cold water ESP if it's over his head/he can't touch th bottom. fr Eric th cold can b kind of painful, so they chill n walk along th beach fr a little bit n just talk. Adam gets some good pictures n even gets some of Eric! he also does take a selfie of them, he can't help it. he gets a couple of Mallick + Art too. it's honestly such a nice thing fr them n it just feels like they can breathe easy, not having 2 worry abt looking over their shoulders constantly (tho they're all getting better abt that).

th third day they spend around th campsite to kind of unwind n relax. they might walk th beach a little bit again, but mostly they just sorta chill n walk some of th trails around the campground itself. when night falls they light a small bonfire (Mallick is still iffy around fire, understandably) n they sit around it in their folding chairs w th cupholders (Adam gets red, Eric has green, Art gets blue, + Mallick gets dark green) n make s'mores. they talk abt anything n everything until they're barely able 2 keep their eyes open, n then after making sure th fire is pretty much out they kinda just stumble into th tent n none of them r awake for very long after (they specifically got one tht cld comfortably hold th four of them).

fourth day!! they pack up n head into another little town about 45 minutes away; it's bigger than th one around th campgrounds. after they get situated in a motel room w two beds, they do some window shopping + going into lil stores that interest them! Adam def buys some niche graphic tees tht aren't going 2 make sense to anyone other than th four of them n he's delighted abt it. I like 2 think Eric gets a worry stone, specifically made out of rose quartz. Mallick too, but his is made of amethyst! he also gets a rly cool multicoloured jacket in a thrift store they duck into. Art gets a hoodie w th town's name on it n he's pretty happy w that. they get a few more lil things, just little knick-knacks while they're there, n then they have dinner in this lil diner they'd walked past earlier bc it's inexpensive + the atmosphere is very lowkey n honestly just Nice. there's not a bunch of ppl, the servers r rly kind n the lights aren't too bright, which Eric rly appreciates. it's such a tender moment bc they're squeezed into a booth, Adam + Mallick on one side n Art + Eric on th other, n they're talking n laughing n stealing bites of each other's food n it's Comfortable.

then they head back to th motel n channel surf while unpacking enough 2 get to their sleep clothes. Adam + Eric r sharing a bed n Art + Mallick r sharing th other one, tho Adam is very tempted 2 just push them together so they're all close by (th distance btwn th beds isn't tht big to begin with, but it's the principle of th thing). mostly tho, until they go to bed, they're pretty much just all stretched out Everywhere. Adam is only discouraged frm jumping across th divide btwn th beds bc Art breaks out his Lawyer Voice, despite trying rly hard not to laugh, to say Yr Going To Hurt Yrself, Don't Do That. he grumbles n whines abt it but Adam knows he's right jdhjks (th way he sees it is like. he can b silly sometimes. he's Earned It, but he also trusts Art + wasn't super serious abt tht idea). eventually tho Eric can hardly keep his eyes open n Mallick is just straight up asleep while he's still sitting up so tht's when they all go to bed after making sure every1 is comfortable. they leave a lamp on.

fifth day they pack everything up again n stop 2 walk th trails of this lil park b4 they head home! there's a lil shop near th parking lot so they spend a lil bit of time looking around in there first. they probably pick up a few lil things, souvenirs, n Adam walks around 2 get some pictures. he gets this rly cool one while they're on a bridge, th sun peeking thru the clouds a lil bit n shining down on th water. he's super excited to develop tht one (but he's excited to develop All of them, bc this is his family!!!) + he n Art discuss whether or not they're gonna need another cork board lol. eventually tho they round back to th parking lot n on th way home, they stop at another lil hole-in-th-wall kind of place, but it's just as nice as the first one they'd been to. after tht Eric switches spots w Art n he drives them home!!

they're all exhausted when they get back but they have room to crash w each other while they nap so tht's what they do. they fall asleep all tangled together, Art stretched out w Eric's head on his chest, Adam curled against Eric's back, n Mallick w his head on Art's stomach. there r arms n legs everywhere n tht is okay. they're happy. they love each other. they had a lot of fun on their trip n they're tired, but they're comfortable!! tht's what it's all abt!!! it's just such a good n relaxing experience fr them after all th shit they've been thru.