#actually maybe more smarts because its not his focus hes *passively* that good

[menolly5600]

Cave boy Danny has way to much fun fucking with the bats after a while. Jason is too until Danny bites him after some unwanted human contact. Alfred gets a big wave of nostalgia when Danny does it too.

Danny can say that the Waynes have been ridiculously welcoming, all things considered. He still hasn't come clean about not being Bruce Wayne's alternative double, so to throw them off from finding out the truth and have a safe place to crash- he's missed plumbing- he has been invited to the Wayne Manor and has been lazing about when under their watch.

If there was one thing apparent, it was that Bruce Wayne did not laze about. It was mind-blowing to those who knew him to see Danny- a version of Bruce- act like walking across the room for a remote was too much work.

It drove them mad to see such a difference between them, and thus, none of the Waynes noticed Danny's side project to get home.

The Waynes gave him a giant room and helped set up a fake Identity for him while they worked on getting him home. To the public, he was Danny Kane, a long-lost relative recently coming to Bruce for help.

Thanks to the support of Jacob and Kate, they agree to make it seem that Jack Kane- Danny's made-up father- was the result of Bruce's material grandfather having a fling after his wife's death. Jake was hidden from the public eye but had his father's financial support until he was an adult.

Jack was never bitter and told Danny stories of his wayward father, filled with love to prove it. These stories inspired Danny to seek out the remaining Kanes after Jack's untimely death, which led him to Bruce as Martha Wayne nee Kane's son.

The day Danny would be sent home, the Waynes would fake his death, and no one would be the wiser that Danny Kane never existed.

Fine by Danny

. He only planned to stick around long enough to get his ship ready and pinpoint a location that had the vile between the living and dead thin enough to slice his way back to the Ghost Zone.

Unlike Wulf, who could open portals wherever he wanted, Danny had to find points weak enough to punch a hole through. He knows his parent's portal was way out of his set of skills, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give anyone the idea to build their own here. Two percent of portals were already two too many.

He mostly hung around the house- with someone always close by in a poor attempt to hide the fact they were watching him. Most of the time, Danny was either lazing around the house, eating and sleeping, and it felt like a costly vacation.

He refused to help on the coms when the Bats went out to kick ass, even after Dick offered to sit in front of monitors and relay information to the heroes like he was offering the chance of a lifetime.

This seems to disturb everyone else in the house except for Alfred.

If anything, the fact Danny straight-up refused to put on tights and rush into night to fight crime made Alfred adore him. The butler claimed he was worried everyone in the family would forget what everyday life was supposed to feel like.

A few Waynes couldn't seem to wrap their heads around the concept.

"You're not interested at all?" Tim asks, eyes narrowed. He was among the few who thought Danny was suspicious for not wanting to risk his life to fight the corrupted system.

"Nah, man, I'm good here. I got my nachos, I got a movie room and I got the softest bathrobe ever bathrobe." Danny snuggles more profoundly into the pink plush robe that Steph had lent him. "Why would I want to ruin any of these? Sides, I can't even throw a punch."

".....There has never been a single alternative Bruce Wayne that wasn't involved in this life in some way. If not as a hero then he was a villain. Bruce as a villain is one of the most dangerous things that can ever happen across the multiverse" Tim reveals grimly. "We've won every single encounter but only by the skin of our teeth."

"Damn. Let me guess. You guys beat the evil Bruces by sending his kids after him."

"Yes."

"Problem solve. You already know you can kick my ass, so if I try anything, you can take me out, right?" Danny doesn't wait for a answer. He turns away from the teenager to stare at the movie screen showing his picked movie. "I can do nothing but tremble before your bat might."

Tim steps into his line of sight. "I mean it. You do anything to harm this family and will regret it."

"Does that mean I can't bite Jason again? That sucks. It's the only way I can get him to stop trying to drag me to galas. He wants to scare the other rich people with my poor people's manners."

Tim's lip twitches and Danny knows he's fighting to keep his face under control. "You didn't have to lock your jaw in like that."

"I really did. Jason tested me."

Tim tilts his head. "You don't really feel like Bruce. You look just like him at fifteen. Alfred says you act just like him. But for the last three weeks, you've been trying really hard to make it seem like you're okay with doing nothing."

"I am comfortable doing nothing."

"I think you're lying," Tim says, moving closer to stare down into Danny's eyes with frankly a manic glare. Danny's core flares up with the sense of challenge he finds in that dark blue gaze.

Which is a first for a human, and frankly is terrifying. If Tim had been a ghost he would have easily been an Ancient assistant or a baby Ancient. He has to be able to match Danny's power like this. Holy shit.

"I think your parents didn't give you enough love as a child, and now you seek approval from everyone around you while trying to push everyone away because you are too scared to make yourself valuable. You find yourself in an endless loop of self-doubt and self-hate by doing both simultaneously." Danny blurts. He watches Tim freeze, then winces. "Shit, sorry, the psychoanalyze came out as a reflection. Forget that."

Tim is still frozen in a way Danny recognizes as someone hearing something challenging to come to terms with. This is why he needs to break the habit of using Jazz's psyche training as a weapon.

He forgets not everyone insults each other with their deepest insecurities. That's just how he and Jazz love.

"...Do you want to watch the Grey Ghost Marathon with me?" He asks after a long pause. Tim closes his eyes before plumping down next to him.

"I like that."

Neither mention Jason, who is gasping in the last row of seats and attempting to suppress muffled laughter behind the wrist cast that Danny lovingly gave him at the last gala.

On a side note, Danny Kane is called "Rabid Dog." by the elites of Gotham, who watched the boy make three grown men cry after two minutes of talking to him and also witness four Waynes attempt to pry his mouth open screaming, "No Danny drop it. drop it!" while the boy munched on Jason's wrist.

No one has noticed that half of the tech has disappeared.

[euphoricsunflowers]

held against the window — lee hoseok/wonho

request: Could you write a smut of wonho being a secretary and the reader the ceo. OR they are both ceo's. Maybe fuck him against the window of the office building.

a/n: of course darling <33 hope you enjoy <3 gif is mine

disclaimer: that is this is just a fanfic so in actuality please discuss what you are and aren’t comfortable with beforehand with people and don’t just jump into stuff like this. aso please don’t involve other people (aka public sex) in your sex life. please read with caution.

word count: 2.5k

content: sub!wonho, dom!fem!reader, ceo!reader, tall!reader (i’m sorry but there’s literally only like one line and i’m doing this for me) ceo!wonho, fingering (m receiving), pegging, minor nipple play, minor dumbification, fucking him against a window,

summary: he’s a powerful ceo just like you are, but he’s just so sweet and docile and soft that you wonder if he’s even the same person.

lee hoseok.

smart. calculated. muscular. dangerously attractive.

he’s an enigma, in a sense, to you. he’s rich, he’s insanely intelligent, he’s beyond adept at running his company, and he’s just so gorgeous that you wonder how he isn’t the cockiest asshole ever, but he’s also so kind and so sweet and so startlingly shy that it all just throws off everything about him.

“mr. lee is here, miss,” your assistant pops their head in through the door, “should i show him to your office?” you nod, murmuring a small “thank you” before you focus back on your laptop, finishing up typing before the door opens once more, and the man of the hour steps inside your office.

“hello,” you say.

“hello, good morning,” he smiles back, looking almost cute in the way he smiles, sitting in the chair opposite from yours at your desk, “thank you for taking time out of your day to meet with me- can i call you y/n?”

“go ahead,” you tilt your head as you hear him talk, but you don’t honestly pay attention to what he’s saying, too lost in his eyes and the fact that his shirt is way more unbuttoned than seems appropriate when meeting another company’s ceo.

he keeps talking, but it’s becoming visible how out-of-it you are, especially when he tentatively waves a hand in front of your face to get your attention, “everything okay in there?” he jokes.

“yeah! yes, i’m fine, hoseok, please continue,”

“are you sure you want me to?” he asks, voice still soft but now it’s almost teasing in its softness, and it’s startling, flustering because obviously, you don’t. your mind is everywhere but this conversation, “i can- we can do something else if you’re not too interested in what i’m saying.”

“god, i’m so sorry, hoseok-”

“don’t be, it’s okay,” he murmurs, getting up out of his chair, “well, come on, come and get me,” he murmurs cheekily, and you cautiously step out of your chair, closing the distance enough to whisper and have him hear, “look, if i’m reading this wrong, then just let me know and i’ll apologize, leave, and probably never look you in the eye again if i’m being honest,” he giggles out of nervousness, rubbing the back of his head with his hand, “but, if i am reading this right, then kiss me.”

“you’re… demanding, you know,” you complain (not really) as you pull him in fully, touching his jaw gently with the tips of your fingers as you kiss. his lips are so soft and thick that you just can’t help but pull on his bottom lip with your teeth gently. he breathes out a soft and inconspicuous moan, exactly what you wanted, and his hands find your hips as he pulls you closer, and his every movement seems to drive you insane, “how are you so…?”

he tilts his head in confusion so cutely that it stirs a certain feeling inside of you, “so what?”

“so…,” you blank before the perfect word hits you, “perfect,” he huffs, but you continue, “genuinely, you’re just so enticing, you’re so beautiful,” your lips find his neck, gentle in the way you nibble at his neck, even as he squirms in your grasp, making you simply just hold him tighter against you, “you’re so docile and passive, it’s everything i want.”

his small, gasps and breathy moans keep you going, intent on dragging more out of him, “you- can people see us on the outside of that window??”

“if they look up, maybe, but we’re on a very high floor,” you respond between small bites on his neck, and as you become less and less gentle with him, he whimpers, “hoseok,” you whisper, “if you at all need or want to stop, just let me know, okay?”

“i- uhm, okay, i don’t want you to, though,” his hands hold your waist loosely, playing with the edges of your tucked-in shirt.

you chuckle endeared at his response. he’s so sweet (both in the way he tastes and the way he acts) it makes you wonder if this man was even real, “good, because i enjoyed that whimper much more than i should have,” he breathes heavier after hearing those words, so physically affected it’s like this man was created and molded to your exact tastes, “since you brought up the window, let’s give everyone a show, hm?”

“you- uh- what? what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean, baby,” you mumble, the pet name so sickeningly sweet off your tongue that he can’t help the way he succumbs to you, “i’m going to fuck you so hard against the window,” you pull him as you take cautious steps back towards the window until your back hits the window, “i’m going to make sure the whole city knows that the lee hoseok is just my little whore.”

you take the breath out of his lungs with every word past your lips and his knees go weak at your words. you flip over to hold him against the window, finally getting him where you want him.

“is that what you want, hoseok?” you ask, but you know the answer. he nods, biting his bottom lip anxiously, “you want everyone to see you like that? that’s so naughty,” you tease.

“i- oh god-“ he exclaims with a heavy breath as you flip him over, feeling upon his body even if his shirt is in the way, letting your hands wander a little lower to grope his ass. he bites his lips, but he can’t hold in his moans for very long.

“you feel perfect against me, baby, so perfect,” you wrap your hands around him to unbutton his shirt, “let’s get this off of you, hm?” he shyly helps you shrug the fabric off of him, “don’t bother with trying to not get fingerprints on the window, they’ll be a reminder of who touched it.”

your hands resume touching him, running against his skin, feeling up every perfectly built muscle on his torso, noticing how he went from overwhelmed and sensitive to teased and desperate so quickly, noticing how hard he’s gotten. aside from moans or soft curses, he’s quiet. you keep your eyes on his facial expressions, especially when your fingernails brush his nipples, “ah-!” he cries out.

“oh? that’s enough to get a cry out of you?” you smirk, seeing him become flustered at your taunting, “then you’re really in for it, baby. i’m gonna fuck you so hard you see stars, and if we break the window?” you lean in to really whisper to him, reaching down to start unbuckling his belt, throwing it off of him, “then good. i’ll be smiling while i pay for the repairs. now, strip all the way down.”

as he obeys, you do the same, throwing off all your clothes and making an absolute mess of your office. you search through one of your drawers, “ah, there it is,” you say, grabbing a couple more things and setting them on your desk before returning to hoseok, now naked and trying to cover himself as he stands a little bit away from the window, “baby, if you’re uncomfortable with any of this, i need you to tell me,” you say you press kisses to his shoulder to soothe him a bit.

“no, no i’m okay! this is really hot, actually, i’m just-” he’s more nervous as you guide him towards the window again, and he puts him hands up against it just like before, “i’m just getting shy.”

“it’s cute, hoseok, i like it when you’re shy,” your hands massages his skin, specifically at his hip as a way to keep him in place and also comfort him, “but if that shyness becomes discomfort, tell me.”

“i- okay,” he nods, and your hands once again find his ass, and he whines just like he did before.

“you have such a nice ass, you know,” you murmur absentmindedly as you squeeze, “i mean, the rest of you is perfect too, god i just can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“i- i want to touch you too,” he whispers, “i just- you’re giving me all the attention, and you’re so pretty yourself that i just- i want to make you feel good too.”

“maybe later, hoseok,” the way your lips say his name is like a venom and he loves it, it’s all he wants to hear, “for now, just let me have you.”

“oh-okay,” he stutters, giving in so sweetly, “i’m yours, y/n, yours.”

“you’re adorable,” you coo, pressing a kiss to his shoulder again before your wet and cold fingers press against his hole. he’s not even sure he saw you put lube on them but he’s startled when he feels the touch. even still, he lets you push your fingers in to the first knuckle, keeping them still for a moment before making slow circles.

“you can- you know,” he mumbles, and you laugh at his shyness before pushing your fingers in more, watching the strain on his face with a subtle sense of pleasure, he’s just so cute like this. he groans, “oh my god, you- oh, fuck- your fingers feel so-”

“and these are just my fingers, hoseok. imagine how wrecked and fucked out you’ll be with my strap on even deeper in your ass,” you press a kiss just below his ear, taunting him with your words slightly, “i doubt you’ll even be able to stand, but i’ll keep you held up against this window so you don’t have to worry that the people down there don’t get to see how slutty you are.”

he moans with a cry as your fingers brush that spot, and his eyes shut as his cheeks go red with embarrassment.

“did that feel good?” you ask, rubbing your fingers over the spot to try and drag that same reaction out of him, and he’s just a beautiful sight. he’s trying to catch his breath, he’s failing to catch his breath. his eyes roll back as his head falls back against your shoulder, “aw, can you not handle the pleasure? it’s just my fingers, seok. you’re going to need to prepare yourself if you’re getting this messed up over just my fingers.”

“i want- i want more than just your-“ he breathes, his voice so dry and airy that it makes him sound so much more desperate, “please fuck me.”

“sure thing, doll,” you kiss the side of his neck (making him flinch at the now sensitive skin from all your bites. he’s pretty sure you left some bruises) your fingers leaving him makes him whine, but feeling the cool touch of the strap on against his ass reminds him that this wasn’t over; it hadn’t even begun. you push it in slightly, seeing the overwhelmed look

on his face almost makes you hesitate, but you get it fully inside of him before you wait to continue, keeping him still against you while he adjusts, you say, “it’s so fun to think about how someone as powerful and influential as you is, in reality, just a cute little hole for my strap,” he jaw is slacked and his eyes are shut, like he’s not even mentally present at all, “you just look so cute and dumb, it makes me want to lose all control and fuck you until you break.”

“please. please, fuck me- fuck- until i break,” he whines, even pushing back against your strap slightly, and that’s your queue to let go of that caution you’ve been holding, and just go for it. you almost pull out completely just to push back in entirely and harshly, and he cries out.

“you’re really in for it, baby,” you say as you rock your hips back and forth, finding a comfortable pace for yourself that is still intense and overwhelming for him, making sure to hit it deep, holding him close by his waist and pushing harshly, “now, don’t be shy, moan for me.”

he does, crying out moans so beautiful you’d think he has the voice of an angel. he keeps his arms against the window, above his head, and he looks down at all the people. he thinks about what they’d think if they looked up and saw him like this? would they recognize him? why did the though of being caught like this both horrify him and excite him like no other?

but all those thoughts fade away as he gets more and more worked up, only really focused on how good he feels and how he wants to feel even better, “you look so pretty and docile like this, hoseok, but you know, i bet you look even better when you’re cumming,” your hand reaches down to give some attention to his cock, and he moans even louder, even more, “i can’t wait for you to completely fall apart.”

“i- oh, fuck, fuck, god-” he stammers, getting closer, so startled by how easy he was to get this close, this fucked up, but your hand works his cock so good and you fuck him so good that he can’t help that all the stimulation is becoming too much, and he’s getting closer to the edge, “fuck, i’m gonna cum, please-”

“cum, hoseok. show me just how much of a whore for me you are,” you mumble in response, and that’s enough to push him over the edge. he arches his back, his head thrown back like before, and he cries out a loud moan as you continue to fuck him through his orgasm, keeping pace until he starts to whine instead of moan, and that’s your queue to slow down and pull out, holding him up because he might not be physically strong enough to stand if you didn’t.

“t-thank you, that was- that was amazing,” he breathes heavily as you turn him around gently, keeping him up as he catches his breath, “let me return the favor now, please.”

he seems okay enough for you to let go now, and you move to sit on your chair instead, “i mean, if you would like to eat me out until your jaw is sore, then by all means, baby: enjoy your meal.”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @foenixs @hobilluvvr @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9 @silencefavarchive @nct99 @bigkpopstan @monstaxdirtywonk @rosiethefairy @domreaderrecs and always feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist <3

[echo-hiraeth]

The Depiction of Women in Frankenstein: Mary Shelley as a Staple of Social Commentary

A/n: As promised, my final piece of uni writing! This landed me a 13.75/20, which means that it is fairly-well substantiated and a valid piece of literary analysis. The main point of critique was that I didn't interact or go into discourse enough with existing sources. Otherwise my essay was deemed "quite inspirational". So instead of uwu fanfiction I'd like to present you this more scientific and academic (maybe even boring) side of myself. Do enjoy!

P.s. My dm's are always open should anyone be interested in going into this a little bit more or should anyone have any questions.

The Depiction of Women in Frankenstein: Mary Shelley as a Staple of Social Commentary

Daughter of two vociferous literary revolutionaries and wife to a renowned poet and activist, societal expectations for Mary Shelley and her work were always set high. Her publication of Frankenstein was nothing short of successful and pivotal in that “Shelley invented modern science fiction” (Sturgis 59). Though the novel was initially presented and perceived as a “ghost story” (Shelley 7) there appeared to be an underlying tone of social commentary present. This, however, is not surprising, as Mary’s mother, Wollstonecraft, was an avid advocate for women’s rights and gender equality. It becomes apparent through the characterisation of women within the text that Shelley seeks to denounce the idealisation of uneducated, objectified and submissive women. In doing this she presented herself, akin to her mother, as an activist for women and their rights.

In this essay I will argue that Shelley condemns the view of women as submissive, passive creatures through the male protagonists’ descriptions of women. I will do this by analysing the stark contrast in depiction and characterisation of several women within the text, through the male protagonists’ eyes. To achieve this, I will primarily focus on three female characters, namely Elizabeth Lavenza, Safie and the female creature. I chose these personalities specifically because they each represent different values and types of women. In addition to this, I will also be touching on Mary Wollstonecraft’s call to the education of women as addressed in her A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. This because Shelley herself plays around with the same ideas and concepts. In doing so I will bring forward Shelley’s own advocation for the education and emancipation of women.

Before I start analysing Shelley’s work I want to introduce Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. In her work, which was “the first book on women’s rights published anywhere in the world” (Botting 296), Wollstonecraft called for the education of women as she believed that “if woman isn’t fitted by education to become man’s compassion, she will stop the progress of knowledge” (2). She furthermore argues that education was crucial in women’s understanding so they wouldn’t revolt or rebel against their “duty” (Wollstonecraft 2). On top of this, she condemns the sensibilization of women, stating that “their conduct is unstable because they feel when they should reason: and their opinions are wavering because of contradictory emotions” (Wollstonecraft 42). Here we see that Wollstonecraft disapproves of the emotionalism of women and how she wants to step away from the stereotypical depiction of woman as a sentimental creature. In her work she ultimately claims that due to the lack of reason and plethora of sensation, women are considered to be weak and “fragile in every sense of the word” she also adds that they are therefore “obliged to look up to man for every comfort” (Wollstonecraft 42). This then implies that the emancipation of women is achieved through education and reason.

Continuing on, I would like to shift my focus to Shelley’s novel and its female characters. As stated before, I will be analysing the three figures of Elizabeth, Safie and the female creature. In this part of my essay I will concentrate on Elizabeth Lavenza specifically. I will be analysing her characterisation and portrayal through the eyes of Victor, the main narrator in the book. In the novel, we are introduced to Elizabeth through Victor who describes that she, as a “sweet orphan” (Shelley 35) was taken in by his parents. From the very start she is presented as some sort of object, Frankenstein’s mother even referring to her as “a pretty present for [her] Victor” (Shelley 35). He seems to consolidate this sentiment, describing Elizabeth as “[his]” (Shelley 36), the possessive pronoun reaffirming the objectification. Aside from being seen as a possession, we see that after mother Frankenstein passes away, Elizabeth is appointed the new matriarch of the house. This is especially shown here: “She devoted herself to those whom she had been taught to call her uncle and cousins” (Shelley 44). Here Elizabeth is presented as the nurturing, parental figure and even further along in the story we see that she often intervenes as a nurse or caretaker: “how often have I regretted not being able to perform it myself! I figure to myself that the task of attending on your sick bed has devolved on some mercenary old nurse, who could never guess your wishes, nor minister to them with the care and affection of your poor cousin” (Shelley 64). Examples such as these reinforce the portrayal of the compassionate, caring woman. In terms of her personality, we soon learn that Elizabeth is a very emotional and sensitive woman. A good example would be her reaction to the death of William: “She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she again lived, it was only to weep and sigh” (Shelley 72). Remarkable here is that Victor is said to be the ��comforter” (Shelley 73) of the family, which coheres with a concept that Wollstonecraft previously introduced: because Elizabeth is so frail and emotional she needs Victor’s support. Wollstonecraft’s sentiment regarding the wavering of rationality and reason due to overwhelming emotionality is furthermore confirmed when Elizabeth is called on as a witness during Justine’s trial. We see here that while “simple and powerful” Elizabeth’s testimony “was excited by her generous interference, and not in favour of poor Justine” (Shelley 85). In other words: her passions and emotions contributed to the conviction of her friend, thus reinforcing the idea that strong emotions are a weakness, as they cancel out any reason. In terms of characterisation, we also see that Elizabeth is often described as a “sweet girl” with “gentleness, and soft looks of compassion” (Shelley 189-190). Throughout his narration it becomes apparent that Victor sees Elizabeth, as the perfect woman, even going so far as to state that he “never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, [his] warmest admiration and affection” (Shelley 151). We can conclude from this, that Victor deems the emotionally vulnerable, nurturing and motherlike woman the ideal one.

The second character I will be discussing is Safie. Here it is important to mention that unlike Elizabeth and the female creature, this character is observed and narrated from the creature’s point of view. We are introduced to this character in chapter XIII when the monster is in hiding, taking refuge in a local cottage. Very noticeable is that in comparison to Elizabeth, the focus with Safie mostly lies on the woman’s physical features rather than her emotionality. The creature describes her as having “a countenance of angelic beauty and expression” (Shelley 116) and being “charming” (Shelley 121). In terms of her personality, the creature deems the Arabian to be “sweet” as well as “lovely” (Shelley 117). She is furthermore described to be “always gay and happy” (Shelley 118). While these traits are directly worded by the creature, through reading her story we see that Safie is actually a very brave, smart and self-governing woman rather than an overly sentimental one. Her independence and bravery were inspired by her mother who “taught her to aspire to higher powers of intellect, and an independence of spirit, forbidden to the female followers of Mahomet” (Shelley 124). Following her mother’s advice, Safie abandons her religion and sets out to Europe as “the prospect of marrying a Christian, and remaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in society, was enchanting to her” (Shelley 124). This reveals to the reader that Safie’s priorities include intelligence and independence, rather than motherhood or love. While Felix is definitely a romantic partner to her, having been referred to as her “lover” (Shelley 127), the marriage is also a sort of leverage, ensuring her freedom as it offers an escape from her repressive and sexist religion, as mentioned in the quote. However during her travels to unite with Felix, Safie’s companion falls ill and passes away, leaving her “unacquainted with the language of the country, and utterly ignorant of the customs of the world” (Shelley 127). Here her true bravery shines through as she keeps pushing forward with the help of an Italian family, despite being alone in a foreign country. Eventually once settled in with the De Laceys, the creature, who is equally “unacquainted” (Shelley 127), informs the reader on their learning process, stating that “she and [him] improved rapidly in the knowledge of language” (Shelley 118). This then also supports the statement that Safie is indeed a smart woman, being capable of learning a new language in a matter of months. When we apply Wollstonecraft’s philosophy to this, we see that Safie closely resembles that new woman considering that she is in touch with both her reason and passion. She furthermore endorses Wollstonecraft’s educational stance as she actively pursues knowledge. In terms of sensibility Safie has only been described to “[appear] affected by different feelings; wiping a few tears from her lovely eyes” (Shelley 117) once, when meeting Felix. We can conclude that in terms of this character we see a healthy balance between emotionality and rationality, therefore introducing a different “type” of woman. It is safe to say that Safie is to be regarded as “the incarnation of Mary Wollstonecraft in the novel” (Mellor 5).

Moving on, the third and final character I would like to discuss is the female creature. It is once again important to note that this part of the story is told from Victor’s perspective and that this creature was never actually brought to life. She was merely an idea and request. We learn that the idea of the female creature is introduced by Frankenstein’s monster, after he fails to find a human counterpart: “I am alone, and miserable; man will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species, and have the same defects. This being you must create” (Shelley 144). This request, or demand, is however not well-received by Victor: “Shall I create another like yourself, whose joint wickedness might desolate the world? Begone!” (Shelley 145). However after a lot of contemplation and convincing, Victor agrees: “I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe for ever, and every other place in the neighbourhood of man, as soon as I shall deliver into your hands a female who will accompany you in your exile” (Shelley 148). The task proved easier said than done, as Victor struggles to “overcome [his] repugnance to the task which was enjoined [him]” (Shelley 149). Victor seems to think and overthink his decision until ultimately he decides against it, therefore breaking the agreement. He comes to this conclusion after thoroughly considering what a new creation might bring forward:

I was now about to form another being, of whose dispositions I was alike ignorant; she might become ten thousand times more malignant than her mate, and delight, for its own sake, in murder and wretchedness. He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man, and hide himself in deserts; but she had not; and she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation. They might even hate each other; the creature who already lived loathed his own deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence for it when it came before his eyes in the female form? She also might turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might quit him, and he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation of being deserted by one of his own species. (Shelley 165)

This revelation brings more to light than meets the eye and requires a more thorough reading. I will start with analysing the female creature’s speculated character. This is speculation because she was never actually brought to life. In other words: this version of the female creature only ever existed in Victor’s inner thoughts. Nonetheless, we see that this female is depicted as malevolent or violent and seemingly emancipated since she might not conform with what her creator, Frankenstein, imposes on her. On the other hand, the creature is also described as “a thinking and reasoning animal” (Shelley 165), which strives from Victor’s ideal woman (cf. Elizabeth) and makes her a threat. Here lies the sexism and Shelley’s critique thereof. She exposes Victor because “he is afraid of an independent female will, afraid that his female creature will have desires and opinions that cannot be controlled by his male creature” (Mellor 6). What we can also deduce from this is that Frankenstein seeks to adhere to the “sexist aesthetic that insists that women be small, delicate, modest, passive, and sexually pleasing – but available only to their lawful husbands” (Mellor 7). We see throughout the story that aesthetics and beauty are important virtues as both Elizabeth and Safie, though perceived by two different protagonists, are praised for their beauty. This is in stark contrast with the female creature, as Frankenstein reasons that the male creature might perceive her as a “greater abhorrence” (Shelley 165). Shelley with this shows the superficial mind of Victor Frankenstein and brings a whole system of sexism in societal standards to light. It is remarkable to see how, despite never even having lived, the female creature becomes one of the most crucial characters in outing her criticisms.

When comparing the three female characters with one another, we notice a sort of spectrum. On the one end there is Elizabeth who is seen as the perfect woman and wife by Victor’s standards and on the other end we have the female creature who is nothing short of horrifying, violent and a threat to him and his standards. Somewhere in the middle we then find Safie, the fictional embodiment of Wollstonecraft and her ideals. Now, what sets Elizabeth apart from these other two women is her objectification. She is often presented as a matriarch and sometimes even an object or something akin to a pet in relation to Victor. She is submissive and for the most part reliant on the men in her life as previously mentioned. The other two women differ in that they strive for emancipation and independence. Furthermore these two women are described as rational creatures, rather than “sensible” or emotional ones, which is exactly what Wollstonecraft was advocating for.

To conclude, while Shelley’s Frankenstein at first glance presents itself as a “ghost story” (Shelley 7), a thorough, more critical read brings to light a sharp piece of social commentary. Shelley masked her criticisms, which were heavily inspired by her mother’s A Vindication for the Rights of Woman, by writing mostly from the perspective of males. These criticisms entailing women and the sexist expectations that society has provided are revealed through the male depiction of three female characters. There are several things to be established surrounding these women. First of all it becomes apparent that Victor favours his Elizabeth, who is the staple of a housewife: submissive, oppressed and dependent on her husband or provider. Then there is the self-governing Safie, who travelled across the continent just to obtain her freedom as a woman. The third and final personality, the female creature, is pivotal in that she is the epitome of Shelley’s critique. Victor Frankenstein fears this female creation as she is rational and will likely have a strong will of her own and can therefore not be controlled by his male creature. He furthermore is appalled by this creature as she does not conform with the stereotypical beauty standard. Throughout this narration Shelley brought to light the intricate and subtle elements of sexism in which Victor, the man, presents himself as superior to women. Shelley’s work went on to inspire and “managed to change the Western world’s conception of women’s rights, human reason, education theory and romantic love” (Sturgis 55). In her work Shelley advocates, as her mother before her, for the education of women and gender equality and seeks to denounce the submissive woman as a whole.

(2681 words)

Works Cited

Botting, Eileen Hunt. “Crossing Borders and Bridging Generations: Wollstonecraft's ‘Rights of Woman’ as the ‘Traveling Feminist’ Classic.” Women's Studies Quarterly, vol. 35, no. 3/4, 2007, pp. 296–301.

Mellor, Anne K. “Possessing Nature: The Female in Frankenstein.” Frankenstein: The 1818 Text, Contexts, Criticism. By Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. Ed. J. Paul Hunter. New York: W.W. Norton, 2012.

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. Edited by M.K. Joseph, Oxford University Press, 2008.

Sturgis, Amy H. "Feminism, Frankenstein, and Freedom." Reason, vol. 47, no. 2, 2015, pp.54-60, 6.

Wollstonecraft, Mary. A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. Edited by J. Bennett, Oxford University Press, 2017.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Under My Skin (Ethan x MC)

Warning: 18+, NSFW

Summary: Set in the middle of chapter 6, Ethan and Naomi have it out over the current state of the diagnostics team.

Tags: @colourmeshy @virtualrain202 @fanmantrashcan @writinghereandthere @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune ~v~

Naomi stares at the textbook in front of her, eyes tired and blurry. She checks the time on her cell phone and 3:22 AM stares back in bold, white letters. Craning her head slightly, she spots Ethan standing at his kitchen island, looking at something on his laptop. 

She never thought she’d be back in his apartment, but he invited the entire diagnostics team over so they could get some research done on Leland Bloom’s case. Ethan wants it to be solved as quickly as possible, and he wants to be rid of the tech billionaire, so after work they all congregated in his apartment, eating Chinese food, drinking wine, passing around textbooks and throwing out theories. 

They’ve been at it for almost 6 hours now. 

The energy in the room is off. Ethan’s been pissed ever since the board told him they’d need to be for-profit and start accepting wealthy clients and potential donors, and everyone feels it. June, Baz, and Naomi have been walking on eggshells around him, but aside from occasional snark from Naomi, they’ve been extremely curt.

Jenner likes her though. The golden retriever took a shine to her the moment she crossed the threshold to Ethan’s condo, sniffing at her feet and attaching himself to her hip. He’s now lounging with her, head in her lap and she pours over this book, and she’s glad. The friendly dog provides an excellent distraction and Naomi is thankful, because his owner currently sucks.

Naomi has dealt with a lot of Ethan’s moods before: upset, defeated, angry, happy, the works. But she’s never had his ire directed at her before. They’re in this mess because of her, and it’s a tricky space to occupy. It’s not fun.

“As much as I love reading, if I look at another word, I think my brain might melt,” June says, breaking the tense silence. She stifles a yawn.

“I’ve tapped out for the night as well,” Baz adds. “I’ve looked up every possible kidney and bladder disease and disorder known to mankind. I’m on sensory overload. I think it’s time I go home.”

Ethan looks up from his laptop. He knows his team is probably exhausted. He can’t believe they’ve actually stayed over this long. “Well, thank you for staying. Go home, get some rest, I’ll see you at the hospital.”

June and Baz gather their belongings and all of the study material they brought along with them, returning Ethan’s living room to its original tidy state. Muttering goodbyes, the two of them exit the apartment. 

And then there were two. Naomi ignores the tension, ignoring the fact that they haven’t been alone together in over a week. Instead, she buries her face in her book, trying to focus on the words.

Ethan doesn’t bother sparing Naomi another glance before asking, “You didn’t want to leave with them?”

“Why, are you about to go to bed?”

“No.”

“Then, no.” She’s not going to stop now, and give him the satisfaction of thinking she’s given up for the night. Her stubbornness won’t allow it. “I don’t want to disrupt the process. I want this guy diagnosed and treated as badly as you do.”

Ethan scoffs. “I doubt it.”

Naomi has been giving as good as she gets when it comes to the passive aggressive snark, but it’s just exhausting at this point. She refuses to be his emotional punching bag any longer. She whips around in her seat. “God, is being a petulant little crybaby a second full-time job for you?”

That manages to get Ethan’s full attention. He levels a cool glare at the young resident, eyebrow raised in challenge. “You’ve gotten real comfortable calling me out of my name recently. Care to repeat that, Valentine?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Ramsey. You’re being a petulant little crybaby. You’ve been trying to pick a fight with me for the past 2 weeks. Look, I apologized, multiple times, for going behind your back or over your head, but I will not apologize for doing what I believe is right, not just for the team, but the hospital.”

“And you’re an insubordinate know-it-all!” Ethan shoots back. “You’re the type to touch the hot stove despite being repeatedly told not to because you think you’re a special snowflake who’s above getting burned. You lack foresight and analytical thought and self-preservation.”

Naomi recoils, having not expected Ethan to snap at her like that. “Excuse me?”

Jenner recognizes the change in tone between both adults. Not wanting to be caught in the crossfire, he moves from his spot on the couch and trots out of the living room, disappearing into the hallway.

“You thought this was going to be easy, that patients would just come flocking to us, but look at us, and everything would be perfect. We’re part of some social media...something or another’s video diary, we’re competing with a subpar hospital for patients despite being better than them, wasting time and resources because he wants to treat this like a reality show contest, and who knows what’s next, because you’ve opened Pandora’s box. We’re whoring ourselves out to the highest bidder, and the integrity and core foundation of this team has been compromised. So please spare me the martyr act, Naomi, and while you’re at it, please remember that I’m still your boss the next time you want to spout off at the mouth.”

Naomi’s hands are shaking, and she can practically feel the anger boiling in her blood. The nerve of this man. She stands up, ignoring the heavy book that fall out of her lap and onto the floor as she does so. She charges over to him, and sizes him up. Ethan’s almost a foot taller than her, but Naomi doesn’t care about the height disparity. She tilts her head back so she can look him in the eye.

“I’m not a martyr, but you’re a self righteous hypocrite. You’ve been pouting and waxing poetic about Naveen’s mission when you were the first one to mess with his legacy.”

Ethan’s nostrils flare at the accusation. “Excuse me?”

“Last year, you got into bed with Declan Nash and big pharma, compromising your own shaky moral code in order to save the life of one person. I’m trying to keep the team around in order to save a lot more people than just Naveen!”

“That was different!” Ethan argues. It doesn’t even feel right coming out of his mouth, but they’re far too deep in the argument for him to do anything besides dig his toes in.

“The only difference is you were the one in control then. But because it is my idea, you’re rejecting it. You’re being completely unreasonable here, Ethan. We’re standing in the middle of a sinking ship. Edenbrook is in trouble. My friends and I didn’t get our new salaries upon becoming residents, there’s talk of them shutting down the free clinic, and they’ll be coming after our team next. Who knows, maybe they’ll decide that mental health isn’t important and the entire psychiatric department should go. And then the nurses. And then they’ll start ordering less and less supplies, just to stay above water. And maybe you don’t care, because you’re Ethan Ramsey, you’re so wealthy that you only get a one dollar salary from the hospital, you’re established, your livelihood isn’t on the line, and I’m sure any hospital in the world would kill to employ you, but the rest of us? The little guys? We don’t have that option, so again, if you’re looking for me to kiss your ass and grovel because I made an executive decision, you’re going to be looking for a mighty long time.”

Ethan studies her, his gaze coolly fixated on her as she rants because he’s waiting for the second she stops talking, so he can jump back into his own argument. He realizes that it’s not an effective way to debate, and he falters slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Naomi goads, her voice taking on a singsong tone. She’s embroiled in the fight now. “Cat got your tongue?”

In his 37 years of living, Ethan can confidently say Naomi Valentine is the most infuriating woman he’s ever met. A stubborn, impulsive, hot-head with a smart mouth. 

And fuck, he’s made a mistake.

Her mouth. Now his gaze is fixated on it, her full lips that she’s repeatedly bitten down on during this argument, the tackiness of her lip gloss, the way her tongue darts in and out.

Their argument is now the furthest thing from his mind, and he’s actually annoyed by it. What is it about this…woman that completely bewitches him? He wants to argue, not be transfixed on how pretty she is. She doesn’t even have to do anything and he’s under her spell again. 

A sharp jab in the middle of his chest pulls Ethan back to reality. He looks down and realizes that Naomi poked him in the chest, out of anger or to get his attention, he’s not sure.

“Hey!” The fact that he’s ignoring her only makes her more incensed. He started this fight, he doesn’t get the right to dissociate and shut down in the middle of it. “Have you listened to a word I just said?”

“No,” Ethan answers honestly. Naomi’s eyes darken at the response. He didn’t say that to piss her off further, but he won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight.

He can tell she’s going to launch into another tirade, one that’s completely separate from their original issue, because that’s just how things are between them; they spiral before either of them knows what’s happening.

Before she can even fix her mouth to call him another name, his hand cups her jaw, tilting her head back, and he slants his mouth over hers, kissing her fiercely.

She gasps. This is the first time he’s ever caught her off guard and initiated a kiss. She’s usually the one to be in control.

All too quickly, Ethan pulls back, locking eyes with the young woman in front of him. She’s dazed, chest heaving and eyes glazed over.

“Did you do that to get me to stop talking?”

“No, I kissed you because I wanted to. But the fact that it got you to stop running your mouth is a personal bonus.”

Naomi huffs, but doesn’t say anything else. God, he could be such an asshole at times.

“I want to do it again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His blue eyes pierce into her own, and it suddenly becomes hard to focus on anything other than him. “Can I?”

She doesn’t know why it’s so sexy, him asking for permission, but she feels the butterflies in her stomach rumble at the question. She’s barely able to nod her head before Ethan launches himself at her, sending her flying back into the kitchen counter.

It’s so different from any other kisses they’ve shared. This one she can feel all the way down in her toes. His tongue darts out, gliding against her bottom lip and demanding access to her mouth, which she eagerly grants him.

Everything about him invades her senses: the feel of his calloused hands touching her jaw, the scratch of his beard against her face, the smell of his cologne (something by Gucci that she’s been yet to narrow down), his taste (she can still taste the wine on him, even though he drank it earlier), his sounds (the little groans that only she’s privy to, always gravelly and smooth, that make her knees buckle). It all culminates into this one man that is so all-consuming, it makes her lose her mind.

The kisses become shorter, more teasing, allowing Naomi the opportunity to actually breathe. He leaves kisses along her jaw and neck, making her whimper.

Ethan wraps an arm around Naomi’s waist and spins them, pushing her against the wall. She winces upon contact. “Warn a girl next time.”

“You want to know what’s been on my mind recently?” Ethan asks, nipping at Naomi’s earlobe.

“W-What?”

His hands find purchase underneath the grey Henley she’s wearing and he lifts it up. Her stomach clenches under his touch and it’s maddening just how responsive she is to him. “I haven’t been able to get the sight of you out of my mind since I came to pick you up from your apartment the other day.” With trembling fingers, Naomi helps him remove the shirt, and it’s tossed somewhere behind them.

She’s not wearing the grey bra he saw the other day, this one is a soft pink, and he groans at how it contrasts against her skin. There isn’t a color that doesn’t look good on her. “I stood there…” he only pauses to place opened mouthed kisses on her collarbone. “...like a floundering idiot…” this time he kisses slightly lower, earning a sharp inhale from Naomi. The noise does nothing to soothe the erection straining in his jeans. “...while you decided to tease me.”

“You’re the one who decided to stay,” Naomi shoots back with a shrug. “So I had to put on a little show.” He hums in agreement. His tongue darts out, flattening over her lace covered nipple. “Fuck, just take it off!”

“You still have no patience,” Ethan observes. He yanks at the material, until he hears a loud tear.

“That’s La Perla!”

Ethan blinks, struggling to find the significance in that statement. Was it supposed to mean something to him? “Okay?”

“It was expensive, you jerk!”

“I’ll buy you 10 more,” he replies with a shrug before resuming his previous activity, pulling one of her nipples between his lips, sucking lightly. Naomi’s breath comes out in quick bursts, and it’s becoming harder for her to stay grounded to reality. She reaches out, wanting to touch him, but he intercepts, catching her wrist. “Hands to yourself, Valentine.”

Ethan’s fingers make work of the button holding her jeans together, and he drags down the zipper. He yanks at her jeans with the same care he afforded her shirt and bra, tugging them down until they pool at her feet. Naomi does the rest of the work, hopping around until the pants are fully off.

“You and the thin scraps you call underwear, have been driving me insane all week,” Ethan confesses. “The other day when I came to pick you up, part of me was so mad at you because of your blatant defiance, but the other part of me wanted to push you onto that bed, and do very, very inappropriate things to you.”

The wetness that floods her panties is overwhelming. She clenches her thighs together in hopes of alleviating some of the tension, but it doesn’t help. Figuring out a new strategy, she wraps a leg around his waist, pulling him flush to her. She rolls her hips, grinding into him. The growl that escapes his lips only fuels her and strokes her ego. “You should’ve.”

Ethan kisses her again, reveling in the needy way Naomi claws at him. Her fingers are desperate, fingering into his t-shirt, twisting at the fabric. He’s unsure if she wants to take it off, or if she’s impatient enough to say ‘fuck it,’ and just rip it.

Whatever the case, he doesn’t let her continue. Grabbing both of her hands, he forces them on either side of her. “You really do have a problem with listening. No. Touching.”

The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down her spine, but whatever rebellious side of her that wants to challenge the command is squelched with one look into his eyes. She can tell he means business and now isn’t the time to challenge his authority.

With restraint she didn’t know she had, Naomi places her palms on the hall behind her, and she stays as still as she can.

“Good girl.” Ethan smirks and drops her hands. He untangles himself from her and steps back an inch to admire his work. “You followed directions for once.”

Whatever smart aleck reply that was about to fly from her mouth is stifled by Ethan pulling her soaked underwear down and slipping two digits past her folds. The noise she lets out is a mixture of a high pitched yelp and a strangled moan, something that threatens to choke her.

The pace he sets is random and uneven, never giving Naomi a chance to settle into a rhythm, and she wonders if this is his way of punishing her, keeping her keyed up and writhing on him for what feels like eternity, trapped in her own form of purgatory.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and bucks her hips wildly into his hand, trying to keep pace with him.

“Stop doing that,” Ethan demands, using his free hand to pull her lip out of her mouth. “I want to hear you, Rookie.”

Something about the use of her former nickname makes her moan, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Ethan.

“You like the nickname,” he states. “It’s funny, you know.  You take every opportunity to defy me, argue with me, and push my buttons, yet you get off on me controlling you.”

She can’t focus. He’s too close, it feels too good, and her brain can’t function properly under these conditions. He presses forward, the heel of his palm pressing into her clit, earning a hiss.

“Admit it.”

At this point Naomi would admit to committing armed robbery if it meant he’d keep doing this. She nods frantically. “Yes, Doctor.” He groans at the use of his title, and he pumps harder, curling his fingers inside of her. 

Naomi stands on tiptoes and desperately claws at the wall behind her. “Fuck Ethan, please!”

“Please, what? What do you want?” His lips find her neck again, and he sucks on her pulse point, only making things more hazy. “Use your words, Rookie.”

She wants a lot of things. She wants to cry out, she wants to dig her nails into his back until she draws blood, she wants him to keep talking her through this, his gruff voice in her ear as she shatters around him.

Unfortunately, Naomi cannot form a coherent sentence to save her life. She just rolls her hips, shamelessly grinding herself into his hand. “I...I…” The pleasure mounts, building in the pit of her stomach, spreading out. She’s so close, she can almost taste it. 

“Do you want to cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please, I want–” Ethan rewards her for her honesty and his thumb drags into her clit and he rubs the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles. That’s all it takes, and she orgasms with a strangled cry and she’s thankful Ethan is right here because he holds her upright as her legs momentarily give out.

When Naomi regains the ability to stand on her own, Ethan lets go and slowly removes his fingers. Moving fast, Naomi grabs his hand, and without breaking eye contact with him, she slides the two digits into her mouth, licking them clean.

Ethan’s next breath is a shaky gasp that leaves his lung far too quickly. “Fuck, Rookie.”

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?” Naomi suggests, releasing his fingers with a loud pop.

Ethan shakes his head. “No.”

He registers the confusion on her face, but Ethan doesn’t give her a chance to respond. He grabs her by the waist and kisses her again, walking them towards the living room. He only breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt over his head, and it joins the growing pile of discarded clothing scattered around. Naomi helps him speed the process along, getting rid of his belt and popping the button on his jeans. Her fingers hook into the belt loops of the pants and she pulls them down.

Before she can do anything else, Ethan stops her wandering hands. “Wait, wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Ethan knocks his forehead against hers and he sighs deeply. “Naomi, if you don’t want to do this, please stop me now.”

She thinks it’s cute that he’s giving her an out, but she doesn’t need it. Her fingers slip past the waistband of his soft cotton boxers, a warm dainty hand wrapping around him.

Ethan shudders as a warmth spreads through him at the touch of her hand, and he mentally curses himself. He pushes her hand away.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not cumming into your hand.” Ethan spins Naomi around and bends her over the arm of his couch. 

While it’s not the desk in his office, Naomi won’t complain. She feels one of his calloused hands trace the length of her spine and her eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

No patience left, Ethan tugs down his underwear, letting the material pool at his ankles. Without another word, he lines herself up at Naomi’s entrance and thrusts into her all at once. He groans at the sensation.

Naomi has never been more thankful for couch cushions, as they muffle the scream that escapes her.

“Fuck, Naomi.” He digs his fingers into her hips before pulling out and slamming back into her. He doesn’t give her any time to adjust, but she doesn’t mind. They both know patience isn’t her forte. “You’re...so...tight.” His words are punctuated by sharp thrusts that threaten to steal the air straight from her lungs.

He leans forward slacking against her, but Naomi welcomes the weight. His beard scrapes against her shoulder blade, his breath warm against her ear, his fingers which are no doubt going to leave a bruise, all of it makes her dizzy, and god, this isn’t going to last much longer.

His thrusts become sloppier, more frenzied as the pleasure mounts, his blood boiling in his veins like molten lava. The only thing he can hear is the sound of the skin slapping, and his ragged breaths.

“Are you close?” He asks. But Naomi can’t think, let alone actually speak words, even if something monosyllabic would suffice. Why does he keep trying to make her speak? Her head drops with a thud and she mumbles something incoherent.

“For someone who had so much shit to talk earlier, you’re mighty silent.” Letting go of her hip, Ethan tangles a hand in her hair, yanking it back so she can’t hide her face in the cushions anymore. His other hand reaches around and he rolls her clit with his middle finger. Still way too sensitive from her last orgasm, she thrusts back, clawing at the couch with her nails, but he holds her in place, refusing to let her move.

“Ethan, fuck, don’t stop!” The words fly out all at once, shaky, fast and jumbled, but it’s all Ethan needs. 

With a burst of energy he didn't know he possessed, he drives into her, plunging deeper. “Cum for me, Rookie.”

Naomi screams. Loudly, and she’s sure his neighbors might be very annoyed, but she doesn’t care. Everything goes white behind her eyes as he all but pushes her over the edge. She clenches around him and Ethan hisses as she’s holding him in a vice-like grip. A few quick thrusts later, and he’s joining her in ecstasy, spilling inside of her. The hand holding her hair tightens for a second, then relaxes.

She’s pretty sure she blacked out for some period of time because when Naomi is finally able to focus, they’re no longer obscenely bent over the arm of Ethan’s couch. They’re on the floor, in the cramped space between the couch and the coffee table. 

She’s hot and sticky and absolutely exhausted. She places her hand over her heart, willing it to stop beating so erratically. Stealing a glance, Naomi peers up and looks at Ethan. He looks as disheveled as she feels, his hair tousled, lips swollen, chest and neck flushed red.

Her voice is horse and completely shot to hell when she finally speaks, “If that’s how our fights are going to play out from now on, I’ll let you pick more fights with you. And I’m a Cancer, we’re stubborn people.”

“I think we can find a happy medium somewhere.”

Naomi rolls over, until she’s nestled into his side and her head is on his chest. She can feel his heart beating rhythmically under her cheek. “Are we still fighting?”

“No.”

“Are you still mad at me?” He doesn’t answer the question right away, and a sense of dread fills her.

“I was never really mad at you,” Ethan admits after a long bout of silence. “I’m just mad at the entire situation. I’m mad at the budget cuts, I’m mad at our country’s healthcare system, I’m annoyed with your inability to listen to me. I’m mad at Leland Bloom’s obscene wealth and the fact that he gets to dangle his money in our faces like we’re horses waiting for carrots.”

“You made the right call, Naomi,” he continues. “But it’s a call you shouldn’t have been forced to make in the first place. I’m sorry for making you carry the brunt of my misplaced anger.”

“Apology accepted. And since we’re apologizing, I’m sorry for calling you a petulant little crybaby.”

Ethan chuckles. “Do you apologize for calling me a goddamn diva, as well? Don’t forget ‘entitled jackass’ and ‘spoiled child’.”

“You co-signed ‘spoiled child’ so I am not apologizing for it.”

“Fair point,” Ethan concedes.

Blindly searching with an outstretched hand, Naomi finds her cell phone and checks the time. She has to be at work in 2 hours, though she’d much rather get into Ethan’s bed and go to sleep.

“That happy medium that you mentioned? I think I have it figured out.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, yeah?”

“First and foremost, I promise to never go over your head again, if you agree to do a trial run on whatever ideas I may come up with. You can’t shoot me down immediately.”

“I’m...willing to agree to that.”

“And once this all settles down and the hospital isn’t on the verge of complete financial collapse, maybe we can convince the board to only take on one or two billable patients a quarter.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, I tend to have those every once in a while,” Naomi teases.

Ethan stares at Naomi as she laughs at her own poor joke. Everything about her is an anomaly to him. She blew into his life a little over a year ago and here he is, willing to adapt his entire ethical code for her. And here they are, entangled together as if he didn’t spend 2 months on a different continent in order to get her out of his head. What is it about her that he can’t shake?

He gently cups her jaw and kisses her as if she’s a precious gem, like he didn’t just try to devour her. “What are you doing to me?”

Naomi smirks, recalling that it’s the same question he asked her in Miami. “Hopefully something good.”

He kisses her again. “Better than good actually.”

Realization washes over her that once she leaves this apartment, things are going to go back to being the way they were. He’ll go back to pushing her away. “So does this mean you want to have another reset?”

The question throws him off, but he soon understands what she means. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Ethan repeats. If there’s a happy medium to be found between his team and the board, maybe there’s one for him and Naomi.

She doesn’t allow herself to get swept up by his words, but instead she braces herself for the chance that he pulls the rug from under her feet. “Well, what does that mean?”

“It means you and I are going to take a shower together, go to work, and we deal with our obnoxious patient. And after work, you’re going to put on something fancy because I’m taking you out to dinner. How does that sound, Dr. Valentine?”

Naomi can’t stop an annoying grin from spreading across her face. “I think it sounds pretty damn good, Dr. Ramsey.”

[angst-fairygodmother]

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER THREE: CHANGING TUNE

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x (fem)Reader Word Count: 2646 Rating: T - angst (self esteem issues/abandonment issues) canon-typical language A/N: This here is a Cheese sandwich on Whole Angst Toast. I also feel like I should say thanks to the folks who made some suggestions for me, even though I ended up going with a different song. 

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

“Shit,” you muttered, looking up with a grimace of disgust, half-poking your head out from under the awning. You had forgotten your umbrella on your way to work earlier that afternoon, and had spent the whole shift praying that the rain would hold off long enough for you to get home. Unfortunately, it hadn’t and was coming down hard.

“Sean…” you whined, turning pleading eyes on your cousin. 

“No. Y/N, you know I love you, but I can’t. I’m supposed to meet Riley right after work,” he said. “And I’ve already been late to her place three times this month.”

“You’re just going to ‘watch a movie’ and then kick her roommate out so you can fuck. How is that something you can be late for?” you said petulantly.

Derek guffawed. “She’s got you there, man.”

“Just for that,” Sean said, waggling a finger at you mockingly. “Even if I could have given you a lift, I wouldn’t.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, making Derek laugh even more, until you turned your childish, affronted glare on him. 

“I’m glad you find it so amusing that my cousin, my own flesh and blood, would betray me like this,” you huffed dramatically.

Sean rolled his eyes.

“I could walk you home,” Derek offered with a shrug.

You eyed him suspiciously.

“I don’t have an umbrella but it wouldn’t be so bad with company right...like I dunno, solidarity?”

“You’re just hoping the rain will be enough to make my work blouse see-through, aren’t you?” you teased. 

“What, nah! I’m a gentleman, I swear,” he said, placing a hand over his heart. “I want to make sure you get home, that’s all.”

“Don’t you have your car tonight?” Sean pointed out. 

“Come on man, why you gotta blow my cover like that?” Derek hissed with a laugh. 

“What was that about being a gentleman?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“Alright, so it was a little bit about tryin to see your titties. But can you blame me, I mean come on, girl, you’re gorgeous.”

“You are such a dick,” you cried, laughing, punctuating your words by playfully batting at him with fists and the sides of your hands.

He yelped, ducking your ‘blows’, trying to hide behind Sean and the podium.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Mercy!” he gasped through his laughter. “I’ll drive you home, just stop hitting me.”

Immediately, you let up on your attack. “You don’t have to, honestly,” you said, waving aside the offer. “I’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure you can’t actually drown in the rain.”

“You were gonna let Sean drive you.”

“Yeah. But he’s family. He’s supposed to help even when it’s an inconvenience. You have no such obligation.”

“That’s what friends are for though, right?” Derek asked. 

“You’re not an inconvenience,” Sean protested at the same time. “Usually.”

“Friends don’t let friends drive the opposite direction of home just because the drivee friend forgot an umbrella in Portland. That’s like forgetting sunglasses in L.A.”

Sean sighed, rolling his eyes. “Y/N. Just take the ride. Or don’t and get totally soaked. I’m sure your uniform will dry out in the...thirteen hours before you have to be back here.” He shrugged with a pointed look at his watch.

Somehow, in the course of the conversation, the rain had picked up even further, now pounding down in sheets. Very cold sheets. You looked at the waterfalls off the awning with disdain. 

With a grumble and a reluctant protest, you agreed to let Derek drive you home. 

~

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Derek navigated the slick Portland streets. You gazed out the passenger side window, lost in random thought, listening passively to the radio, until you became aware of something beneath the sounds through the speakers, almost hidden by the thrumming bass. 

Slowly, you realized that it was Derek, singing along. 

You felt your breath catch, turning to stare at him in awe. He was really, really good. Trying not to call attention to the fact that you were listening, you shifted in your seat, tuning out the radio to focus on him. It was a crooner’s voice at heart, like smoke and honey, soft and warm with sharper hints of something more versatile and modern. You felt hypnotised as several songs went by, drawn in like a magnet to his sound. At the points it lacked technical brilliance, it was made better for its honesty, like no matter what he was singing, he meant it with heart and soul. 

Eventually, Derek seemed to notice your attention. 

“Y/N?” he asked, his normal conversational tone jolting you out of the near-trance he had lulled you into. “You alright?”

“I didn’t know you could sing,” you blurted, voice breathy and soft with awe.

A deep red color crept up his neck, splaying out over his ears and face all the way to the hairline and maybe beyond. He chuckled nervously. It was honestly kind of adorable, and you mentally kicked yourself as the thought crossed your mind. This was Derek you were talking about. The only way he should be paired with that word was if it was in the sentence ‘look at the adorable kitten/puppy Derek is holding.’ 

“It’s just along to the radio, nothing special dawg,” he rushed to claim.

“No. I heard the radio, and I heard you. That was different, you were different. And better.”

“You’re just sayin that.”

“Have I ever said something nice to you just to say something nice?” you asked, your face skeptical. 

He laughed, unable to stop himself. “I don’t think you’ve ever complimented me at all before.”

“Kind of proving my point for me, aren’t you?” 

He snorted.

“I’m serious. Definitely the kind of voice that teenage girls would pay too much money for tickets just to scream over it in a concert.”

“Ya think?” there was a note of hopeful excitement in his question, and he seemed to turn even redder at your words.

“I mean, I’m no expert,” you shrugged. “But I did used to be one. A teenage girl that is.”

“Huh.” 

Silence, save for the upbeat pop song now playing in the background, settled back over the car as he continued to drive, pondering what you said, and you let your thoughts drift aimlessly.

“So what about you?” Derek suddenly asked, making you jump again.

“What about me?” you asked. 

He paused, a spark of tension crackling between you. He reached a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. 

“I mean, were you...did you used to scream over boybands and shit?” he finally managed to say.

“Nah. I never had the money for concerts. Besides,” you flashed him a sheepish half-smile. “I liked some of it, but my taste was mostly more along the lines of Bowie, Broadway, and Cash than it was Fall Out Boy or whoever.”

He seemed to consider this. “Maybe I’ll have to learn some of that for you then.”

“I bet you could do a good Life on Mars,” you suggested genuinely. “Still won’t get you in my pants though.” You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips.

“Ouch!” he laughed with mock-hurt. “You still think I’m just playin you?”

“Obviously,” you shrugged. “I’m too smart to think otherwise.” 

‘No matter how much I wish you weren’t,’ you thought fleetingly. 

Derek frowned, catching something in your tone, below your usual teasing. Something...sad? No, defeated?

“You don’t think I could be serious? Or...actually into you?”

“Please,” you scoffed.

His frown deepened, hurt that no matter how close you’d gotten of late or how you acted, you still thought that low of him.

“I know I’m not really someone worth sticking around for,” you said softly. “And you’re sweet sometimes, but...that doesn’t change facts.”

He opened his mouth to protest but you kept talking.

“My own parents figured that out, I’m sure you will too. Everyone does. I don’t even mind anymore,” you chuckled bitterly. “It’s just the trying to pretend otherwise that hurts.”

He was silent, unsure where to even start. He wanted to tell you that you were wrong, he wanted to prove it. He wanted to keep the tears he could see building up from ever falling.

 The car slowly rolled to a stop outside your apartment. He realized that somewhen the rain had let up to a fine drizzle, but the gloom had moved inside the car instead. You flashed him a smile that didn’t meet your eyes. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, leaning slightly on the doorframe as you got out, and wringing your hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And...uh...try not to worry about what I said. It’s...no big deal.”

The car door sounded heavier than ever as it closed and you headed up the walk, turning briefly as you put your key in the lock to wave. 

He continued to sit there, well after you had disappeared inside, trying to wrap his head around what had passed between you. Eventually, he had an idea.

“Sean!” he said into his phone when the Irishman in question finally answered. “Yo, I know you’re wit’ your girl, but this is important.”

~

A week or so later, Derek offered you a ride home again, even though this time it was a perfectly clear night, if a little chilly. There was no need for it, and equally no need to agree.

“Sure,” you said, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket and leaning against the building. “If you really want.”

“Great,” he smiled and there was no guile or joke or performance in it, just him, happy that you’d agreed. “We just gotta cash out with Nino and then we’ll go?”

You nodded. Sean lingered at the door, a smug, knowing look on his face.

“What?” you asked, defensive.

“Nothing, nothing. Just quite the shift from ‘oh no I don’t want to be a bother,’” he said in a tone that you thought was meant to be an impression of you, but a very bad one. “To ‘sure, Derek, I’d love a ride home.’” He batted his eyelids for added effect.

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled, feeling your face heat. 

“Admit it. You’re into him.”

“You’re impossible.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re right...it’s not.” You looked down, fiddling with a pen you had found still stashed in your pocket.

Sean’s eyes widened. “Really?” He couldn’t contain the excitement in his voice.

You countered it with a glare. “Keep your mouth shut. And go cash out, before you get ripped off by your alleged best friend.”

~

You settled easily into the pleather passenger seat; Derek started the engine and the radio crackled on. You closed your eyes, letting the music wash over your exhausted mind, secretly hoping that he’d sing again. It only took a moment to register this was very different music than what he’d been playing the other night, but before you could ask about it, he started in, humming the opening, gradually gaining energy until he was belting out the lyrics.

“Thanks to you, Bonnie babe, I can make plans again. I've got lots o' reasons to keep livin' Its true that love can set you free, And this world will remember me.”

Swept up in the moment, you answered with the next verse in equal passion and drama.

“You said you'd go straight. Clyde, I wanna be in movies. I can't name one movie star who's doin' robberies on the side. I know in my heart, babe, that Hollywood is callin', How can I be in the spotlight if we always have to hide?”

The pair of you grinned at each other as you continued the back and forth, voices syncing surprisingly well for having never sung together before. You couldn’t help the sort of giddy rush you felt, losing yourself in the music and the character.

As the last note chopped off, you reached over, turning the radio down enough to have a conversation over it.

“You’re pretty good at that, Bonnie,” he joked.

 “It helps to have a good partner, Clyde.” You winked dramatically.

“I try, I try.” You weren’t sure, but you thought you might see a hint of color on his cheeks. 

“You know,” you mused, with a quirk of an eyebrow, “I didn't take you for a Bonnie and Clyde fan, so I’m guessing it didn’t just happen that you were listening to one of my favorite musicals.”

“It kinda did,” his mouth twisted ruefully. “I know you said to forget it, but I couldn’t stop thinkin about the other night and I,” he glanced over at you, checking to see if you were angry before continuing, “wanted to show you that you’re important to people, that we...I...care about you. So I asked Sean what some of your favorite songs and stuff were.”

You swallowed, fighting back a wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm you. Still, when you spoke, your voice came out soft and breaking. “Oh.”

“I was gonna surprise you by learning some and then find an excuse to sing 'em for you or with you or something, but this is the only one I got so far, and it was by accident.”

“What do you mean?” Curiosity overrode everything else for the moment.

“It just gets stuck in your head man. I’ve been listening to it for days.”

You joined in his laughter. “It does doesn’t it?”

“I can’t figure it out.”

“Probably because it’s so relatable. The dressing’s complicated, but in the end it’s just about people in love, people with dreams.”

He fell quiet, considering. 

Something hung over the pair of you that you couldn’t quite find a name for, or didn’t want to maybe. It felt safe though, whatever it was, and you wanted to cling to it.

Not sure what else to say or do, you nudged the volume up and threw yourself back into the musical, hiding yourself in Bonnie Parker for a time.

~

That girl's got somethin' Nothing scares her Only piece of luck that's ever come my way

Derek was singing softly, and his hand reached out, fingers tentatively brushing against yours. It was on instinct that you turned your hand and slipped your fingers through his, lacing them together for a moment, the action just feeling right. Seconds later, your mind caught up to what your body had done and you recoiled, jerking away as if his touch had burned you. 

“I don’t know why I...I mean I wasn’t...I...sorry,” you stammered.

“Don’t be,” he replied with a half-hearted shrug. “You uh, you have soft hands.” 

Almost in a whisper, he added, “I liked it. I wanna keep holding your hand, if you want me to.”

You glanced down at his still outstretched hand, and then back up at his face. He stared resolutely ahead, eyes fixed on the road, as if that could hide the waiting tension that he practically hummed with. He’d told you, in a way, how he felt and now he was leaving it up to you. 

Hesitantly, you reached back, sliding your fingers back to where they’d been. You chewed on your lip, staring nervously at the juncture where your skin touched, mind racing. You weren’t sure what it meant, or how it would change things, and you were afraid. Derek was already important to you (you took a moment to marvel at that change, wondering when exactly it had happened). If you let the connection grow…You debated retracting your hand. At least if you pulled back, it would be your choice, for once, to lose. 

You felt a slight pressure as he squeezed your hand comfortingly and flashed you a grin. You smiled back. 

Maybe this — maybe Derek — was worth the risk.

[mikrokosmos]

“Beethoven Sucks at Music”

A Response from a Classical Geek

So this video by the ever insightful 12tone channel came up in my YouTube recs, and I knew from the clickbait title I had to respond. To be fair to him, the argument is much more legit than the title would give off, but there are still some points that I want to comment on

“Can you name a Beethoven tune?”

He starts off saying most people can maybe hum a few melodies, but probably don’t know most of Beethoven’s work. Bee’s one of my favorite composers, and I have listened through all his major works. But sure, there are many classical fans who either haven’t listen to much of Ludwig, or don’t even like what they have heard so they listen to others. However, the general public? Well how much of the general public can name a Van Gogh other than Starry Night? How many know the name of the painter of The Scream? If you showed a random person on the street a set of Renaissance paintings, could they tell which artist painted which? What about impressionist paintings? Or have they read anything by Flaubert or Ibsen or Woolf? I’m not trying to gatekeep or be a snob [I couldn’t name the Renaissance painters, and I haven’t read any of those three], but rather to point out that “greatness” in art doesn’t have to equate with popularity. And Beethoven is definitely more popular than most classical ‘greats’.

The Canon

This is a pretty big insight that more people should reflect on. Why is Beethoven programed so much? Because he sells, and he sells because of people who like his music, but also people who want to be the people who like his music because Beethoven is a mark of cultural capital. Doesn’t mean they don’t “really” enjoy it, but that there could be an subconscious [or maybe deliberate/weaponized] desire to show others “I appreciate fine art”. Again, not trying to gatekeep, but think of the difference between...I don’t know, a random teenager who comes across Beethoven online and falls in love with the power of the scherzo from the 9th and wants to hear more, and someone like Ben Shapiro playing a Beethoven violin sonata after making a podcast about how Rap isn’t real music or that today’s music is “worse” than the Western greats. You see what I’m getting at? There is unfortunately a vocal minority of classical fans that want to use the music as fodder for their reactionary arguments.

Next, he does a great job covering the history of “the canon” and the cultural factors that created it.

We say Beethoven is good because of German-centric nationalism

Partly true. It’s especially funny to look at what composers of the 19th and early 20th century were thinking and saying about Beethoven and the Germans. Both the French and the Russians were annoyed by the German superiority being pushed in the music world and wanted to make their own cultural standards for ‘greatness’. And famously, both Debussy and Ravel were sick of Beethoven and were “anti-Wagnerian” in their aesthetics, and most of the “classics” of the Modern era were reacting to and against Beethoven, Brahms, and Wagner. Of course it doesn’t mean that Beethoven’s music isn’t great, rather that German nationalism and also ethnic pride coming from the German immigrants of 19th century America has a lot of cultural dominance. Ask a French person who the greatest composers are and they’re likely to say Couperin before Bach, Berlioz before Beethoven.

He then points out that, while the Canon is a cultural agreement, it is kept fixed and fossilized.

Focusing on Beethoven keeps music students from focusing on what they care about

You don’t have to love Beethoven. But if he’s saying that schools should only focus on what is ‘culturally relevant’, then are we throwing Shakespeare out of the curriculum? I don’t live in the same culture and time as him, but I still find Macbeth compelling, and Julius Caesar, and Othello...they are still great stories, and forget the idea of ‘high art’ because they’re full of lowbrow death and murder plots, sex jokes, fart jokes, and have a lot of badass moments [the witches of Macbeth, the ghosts of Hamlet, the assassination of Caesar, the sword fights and taunts of Romeo and Juliet, etc.]. I don’t live in Beethoven’s time either, but the Eroica pounds in my heart. I don’t think that the old classics should be the only thing we look at, but I don’t think we should only look at contemporary popular culture either. And frankly the best academic courses and professors are those who examine both with a similar eye. We always draw cultural parallels across art through time.

Who gets left out of the Canon?

This is a legit thing to look at. Lately there has been a greater shift at performing and looking into the music of otherwise ‘marginalized groups’. Though it may be too little too late, especially when the zeitgeist of today is knowing that there are so many stories and perspectives that are ignored or shut out from a canon. How often do you see the distinction of “women composers” instead of mentioning people by name? The same happens with “black composers”, or composers from non-European or non-”Western” countries. It’s important and overall a better thing for our culture to highlight these people, but there is still the connotation of them as a footnote to the “real” canon that doesn’t need a modifier [I mean, how often do you hear someone call Beethoven a great German composer, instead of just “great composer”? Lili Boulanger is a great composer who is almost always called a great woman composer…]

I also agree that there is the issue with the idea of teaching only what’s “important” for understanding a class, especially with art since it is cultural but usually it is taught like a forward thinking narrative. The major influencers are mentioned while great artists who can’t serve the narrative are left out. An interesting example would be Schopenhauer and his philosophic influence on classical music for his time, even though his major ideas are from Hindu and Buddhist theology filtered through 19th century German philosophy.

The Invisible Hand of the Canon

Also a great point. Why do we assume that the music of black composers isn’t “good enough”? Or “women composers”? Or “Turkish composers”, “Mexican composers”, “Filipino composers”, etc.? Where are these standards coming from? Let’s bring up two other greats, Mozart and Debussy. Who is better? Really, it falls down to opinion, because the music aesthetics of the two are so different, that you cannot make a real judgment without admitting that you’re assuming one set of standards over the other. Now, the music of Boulanger is much closer to Debussy than Mozart, so why would we judge her against Mozart to determine if she deserves to be sanctified into the Canon?

And I hate to be a gatekeeper, but I love out-snobbing the snobs, so when someone takes the conservative position of the Canon’s greatness, I wonder are they able to listen to a piece by Schoenberg and explain its relation to the German romantic tradition, regardless of if they enjoy it or not? Because I have seen ignorant defenders of Beethoven and Mozart call his work “random noise that a cat could play” and I want to know if they actually engage with the music beyond listening to 30 seconds and getting a rage wedgie

Does Beethoven suck?

He admits no, it was just clickbait. But his attitude or proposed attitude toward Beethoven is much more honest. The ‘greatness’ of his work is the experience you get from listening to it. Or, you can respect his art without really caring about it or listening to it much. But yeah, the more we acknowledge the artifice of the Canon, the easier it is for us to look at more music with a more critical eye, and I think that’s much more engagement than passively agreeing with the assumption of greatness for cultural capital. No, Mr. Shapiro, you don’t look smart or impressive for talking about Mozart instead of Lamar at a cocktail party. And if you do, it’s because you’re trying to impress stick-in-your-ass dull rich people who have no taste.

The End :D

[arigatouiris]

you // bakugou katsuki

Author’s Note: Bakugou Katsuki is someone I can write about anytime anyday. 

Ehh so this is my first time writing anything yandere and this is happening because guess who binged all of season 1 of You in one day? Me. Yes. And while I haven’t been posting as much, it’s been a very very hectic year for me, mental health-wise and professionally, so using tumblr is a luxury. There’s a twist here because it’s more of a reader being yandere than Bakugou.

Word count: 3254

Pairing: Yandere! Reader x Bakugou (there’s a twist)

Warnings: yandere elements, sexual references

❝

It had been a rather long day. 

Not that you were complaining. With rising levels of anxiety, a long day was a refreshing break from all things related to your mind. Honestly, you like being busy because it somehow takes a large load off of you, giving you a chance to breathe, move around in your own space and think of things that are actually worth thinking about.

And you’re really trying here; to make a difference to yourself. You’re really trying to not let the growing anxiety creep under your skin, to tell you about things that don’t actually matter and despite how much you want to listen to the voice that says ‘if it bothers you, then it matters’, you want to do the right thing and focus on yourself for a change. You’re going to do better, you’re going to stop fixating on things that will only damage you, you’re going to move past what can only hurt you and think of better things, healthier things—

     “Hey,” You spun around and blinked, before your eyes slightly widened at the person you grabbed your attention, “You dropped this.”

Oh.

Oh no.

His eyes were on you, not to say it in a creepy way, but there they were—glowing red and power-hungry, falling on you like satin on the floor. Your hands nearly trembled when he handed you the scarf you had ‘dropped’, and your fingers were inches away from touching one another, not that you wanted to touch how his skin felt like, but it wasn’t something you would have minded. Not one bit. You smile at him, shyly, because you don’t want him thinking you were happy about dropping the scarf. 

His hair was all over the place and you wondered how it would feel like in between your fingers when you grasp at them as he’s holding you, breathing down on your neck, caressing your skin and you could finally know what he smelt like—

     “Thank you, I’m sorry.”

You’re glad your voice wasn’t shaky, and your smile sat firmly in place. You didn’t want to creep him out on the first time you met him.

Oh, but you know, deep down, that it isn’t the first time. You remember the first time like you remember falling in love for the first time. There are things you don’t forget, and there are things that you cannot forget—like the time you had your first drink or the first time you have sex or the first kiss you share with a boy you harbored a crush on for the longest time. 

And meeting Bakugou Katsuki was one such thing you simply cannot forget.

     “Don’t worry about it.” 

He sounded gruff like he didn’t even want to be there, but he didn’t mind helping people. You could see through his cold exterior rather well, almost as well as you could understand yourself. And you knew yourself quite well if you could say so.

Bakugou Katsuki was no rude or intimidating person. He, like you, only wanted to be loved the right way. Bakugou Katsuki was rough around the edges, but it was something you were willing to work with. He wasn’t too complicated, but sometimes, he’d like to think he was because then he could hide his insecurities of being terrible with people away deep inside his mind, and not let it show to just anyone who walks by. 

But you’re not just anyone. 

He’ll soon realize that. You were sure to make him see that this time, unlike the several times you’ve been wrong in the past, you were right. You were right about looking for love in Bakugou Katsuki because he was looking for it too.

The first time you met Bakugou Katsuki was not the first time he met you. Yes, it sounds strange when you read it like that, but that was how your story began. A week ago, you were trying to pick the best book from the one bookstore you knew that actually sold books from time to time, and there it was. A loud explosion that almost sent everything outside the store scattering—cars, people, name it. But, the source wasn’t a villain or anything that would normally cause such a scene, it was Bakugou Katsuki.

He ensured no one was hurt, which was remarkable in its own way, but the fiery nature he carried with himself sent your heart to the skies; there was nothing he was hiding. He wasn’t like those other heroes who smiled and was nice to every pedestrian out there. He was doing his job, and he didn’t need to be nice about it. And from the looks of it, he was doing a good job too. It took him roughly 4 minutes to catch the villain, despite the explosion, and that was the time you noticed him. 

Hi, there, your mind spoke to him as you watched him speak to the authorities. You took in his appearance, the way his hero costume sat on his shoulders; the aggression wasn’t passive, he knew what he had to do and that was attractive too because you liked men who knew exactly what they wanted. You knew of him until then but it was the first time you were seeing him in flesh. People gathered around him but kept a distance because of his reputation and you knew he liked that because, despite the loudness, Bakugou Katsuki was a private person. 

You promised yourself you were going to stay in the clear. You weren’t going to involve yourself in someone else because it isn’t good for you. Any sort of obsession is bad, you knew this to be true, but Bakugou Katsuki was inviting especially with the air he had around him. Not anyone can get through it, but you were not anyone. 

So when Bakugou Katsuki was being Bakugou Katsuki, what more could you do but love?

*

It didn’t take you long to find him on social media. He had a private account for everything, but since he was a hero he had a public hero account that he had no choice but to leave public. Despite his arrogance and nonchalance to the rules, he was a pro-hero at the end of the day, and that meant doing things like this from time to time.

You nodded to yourself a bit, swallowing the need to smile and browsed through the ten pictures he had in that account. It was all of him with children and you realized that despite being gruff he was someone who could be soft to kids if he tried. Maybe, he wasn’t in the past but he was now. Now, you jumped to Facebook and it didn’t take you long to find him there but then again, there were several fan accounts and just one public account of his hero page again. You hummed before noticing the various other public figures in his profile—the hero Deku and Shoto, who seemed close but there was one more person.

The hero Red Riot.

You knew from the media that Ground Zero and Red Riot were best friends from their school days, so now you had another lead. You used Red Riot’s public profile to look at Ground Zero; and no, this isn’t stalking, you were just harmlessly checking out the person you knew you were going to spend the rest of your life with. 

And viola. 

There was just so much to see! Red Riot was a social media whore—and there was just so much he wanted to share. Bakugou Katsuki didn’t look too pleased in these pictures, but you could tell from the bottom of your heart that he loves feeling belonged and he loves his friends and the tough guy act was to initially keep unwanted people away but if you were a certain way for a very long time then it becomes who you are now. 

     “I know how that feels,” You muttered because you did know how that felt.

So, you waited. You didn’t want to rush, because you knew the best things came with a slow pace and a calm heart. Though you knew your heart was anything but calm, teaching it calmness is a gift. 

The next morning, you walked into the cafe and eyed the manager there. Your right hand was holding the flier for a new waitress and you were in need of a new job. Things were perfect. Smiling, you walked over to the manager and greeted him once.

     “You’re (l/n)?” He asked, blinking at you.

He was an old man, but he wasn’t weary. He seemed like the most active old man you’d ever laid your eyes on, but no matter. You were going to get this job, and you knew you were hired the second you walked in. All of this was just an unnecessary procedure.

     “Yes. Hello. It’s very nice to meet you!”

You were enthusiastic and didn’t push it. Things were going to go well.

     “Preppy! I like that. When can you start?”

     “I can start right away, haha!”

Oh no, too enthusiastic. You could see doubt cloud in the manager’s eye. You need to play this smart. You need to do something to get yourself out of this mess—

     “Perks of not having a job right now.” You cleared the air, and you finally could breathe again.

The manager laughed once before suggesting, “Today at 5 sound good?”

     “Five sounds great.” 

Five o clock didn’t come soon enough. You were tired of waiting outside the cafe like a stalker, which you weren’t, because you weren’t weird. You were just freshly in love and the enthusiasm was too much for your small heart to bear. If you were being a completely open book, you knew you had a glass heart. You gave too much and expected too little but even that little bit that you expected sometimes never came through. And that hurt. 

You get hurt easily not because you have such little faith in people, but merely because people intended to hurt these days. 

As soon as the clock struck 4:57, you entered the cafe. The manager noticed you, coming in early but not desperate early, and smiled to himself. It was just the first day, everyone comes early on the first day. You tossed him your best smile before getting to work. 

If your calculations were right, then in just 17 minutes, the rest of your life was going to begin.

*

Bakugou Katsuki walked into the cafe being Bakugou Katsuki and not Ground Zero. 

This was a lesser-known fact about him that most people didn’t know, except for his close friends. Red Riot, or Kirishima, and himself were at this cafe calling it “Bakugou’s second home”, which meant he came here a lot.

It was a risk you were willing to take. Who isn’t willing to take risks for love? It’s thrilling, really.

So you made your move, slowly. You were making a fresh start. You were given a clean slate and there was nothing that could hinder this progression or movement. It was going to be Bakugou Katsuki and you, in your love story, reaching a point both of you would be forever happy in. You were so elated you barely noticed someone else walk into the cafe, someone else who could be just as elated as you.

     “Katsuki-kun!”

Now, who the fuck is this?

Your eyes turned to spot the brown-haired, round-faced individual walk in and sit opposite to Bakugou, who didn’t even look irritated, to say the least. You knew who she was, but who was she to Bakugou Katsuki? You blinked a couple of times before feeling the rage build in your system. 

What the fuck was Uravity doing here? 

Wasn’t she with Deku?

Wasn’t she not interested in Bakugou Katsuki?

What the fuck was she doing here addressing your Bakugou Katsuki as “Katsuki”?

You hadn’t even reached Bakugou-kun yet!

You walked over there, carefully, a soft smile on your face—knowing exactly what to say and what to do.

     “Hi, may I take your order?”

Bakugou Katsuki’s eyes shot at you before a small hint of recognition struck his features. He wasn’t going to act on it, of course, he could be wrong, but perhaps it was the entire timing—Uravity, him not recognizing you, everything made it crash down hard.

     “An Americano for him, right Katsuki-kun?”

She even knew his order? What the fuck was going on here?

     “Stop doing that, round face. Jesus,” You felt ease at him insulting her, but it wasn’t enough, “She’s not going to have anything, she was just leaving.”

     “Oh? But we have a very good—”

     “She was leaving.” Bakugou Katsuki interrupted you, and you stopped talking right away.

You weren’t going to let anyone know how elated you really were on the inside. Uravity sighed before grumbling and stopping midway as she was leaving.

     “You know,” She turned around to give him a serious look, “I really someone figures you out.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? You gulped before turning to look at Bakugou Katsuki, wondering what had just happened and why you were so confused.

     “You,” You jumped on your spot, “Americano.”

You nodded once before rushing to get him the best Americano he had ever tasted. While you were returning with your drink, you placed it there with a small savory biscuit and that got his attention.

     “I don’t think you remember, but you saved our lives a week ago. Just a small token of my gratitude.” 

You didn’t need him to know this. He was a pro hero, there was no need for him to know.

     “Book store girl.”

You froze. Your wide eyes didn’t go unnoticed. 

     “You didn’t even come out because of the whole hassle. Yeah, I saw you.”

He’s a hero. He had to be alert and aware of who was around. That was the only reason he knew about you. 

Six days went by, and you were slowly trying to piece together who Bakugou Katsuki was little by little. You’d leave him little savory snacks randomly and you could spot a soft change in his glum expression and notice how he’d linger longer than he would usually stay. You had more eye-contact than before and you swore you even saw him smile at you once.

When he wasn’t being a hero, he was being Bakugou Katsuki and wow, you were thrilled that he was choosing to be himself with you.

So, you decided to take it a step further. Six days was enough before you could ask him something personal right? You didn’t want to rush, but you were trying very hard to be anything but fast because you couldn’t wait to see how he felt in your hands and how his skin and hair smelled like and how it would overall feel to have love in your hands.

So, on giving him his third Americano for the evening, you plopped yourself opposite to him and smiled at him.

     “Don’t tell me you want an autograph.”

     “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Bakugou Katsuki chuckled at what you said and you swore to all the heavens you had learned language for this particular reason.

     “Just wanted to get to know you a little.”

Bakugou looked at you. Yes, he was starting to become Bakugou now, it was slowly adjusting itself in your head.

     “You sure you want that?”

You felt a bit hurt at his sentence but couldn’t help but admire how mysterious he sounded as he said it.

     “I don’t go do things I’m not sure of.”

     “Like work in a coffee shop?”

You chuckled, “This was all I’ve ever wanted.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

     “No, but really. Who are you, Bakugou Katsuki?”

He gave you another look, a softer one this time, a look you could barely discern but could spend the rest of your life trying to understand. He leaned forward and your faces were merely inches away.

     “I’m no hero, (l/n) (y/n).”

You swore you could feel your heart rate increase with the way he said it.

     “And I’m no damsel that needs saving.”

Bakugou smirked at what you said before what you knew as something very darkly sexual began between the two of you. The second you entered the cafe, you were left to wonder what Bakugou Katsuki would want to do to you later that night. The way he touched you, the way you touched him, the way he smelled and the way his skin felt when it slapped against yours, it was driving you closer and closer to insanity. 

He didn’t even have to do anything. All Bakugou had to do was sit there and be himself and you could swallow yourself wholly into whoever he was and whatever he was—it was just that easy. Bakugou Katsuki was a man who knew how to please and how to be pleasured from that pleasure and you felt no remorse for even being selfish with him.

Not that you were.

But, you couldn’t help but notice something strange. Every touch, every word that you uttered, it felt as if Bakugou knew where it was coming from and if this wasn’t a sign that it was meant to be, you didn’t know what was. 

It was one night that changed everything, however. Not that you’d know.

You and Bakugou were done for the night. Tired, but happy—wounded but whole, you were cradled into his muscular arms, naked to the very bone, but you were satisfied.

     “Baku—”

     “Katsuki.” He whispered, kissing the tip of your forehead.

You smiled to yourself, “Katsuki,” you repeated, wanting the taste of it, “I think I like you,”

What you didn’t know was he knew. 

He knew you liked him. He thought back to the time when he started heading over to the cafe you were working at, that one time with Kirishima—who obviously exaggerates everything he writes about. He thought about the fact that he told his red-headed friend that he liked the cafe, thus rendering it Bakugou’s home. He remembered that it hadn’t even been a week since Kirishima had posted that picture and yet, there you were.

There you were, now, suddenly working there.

After having seen him just once. 

Oh, if you think Bakugou Katsuki’s first time meeting you was when he handed you the scarf, then you were wrong. The first time Bakugou Katsuki met you was when you didn’t even know it. 

You had a strange habit of smelling old books right in the middle—there was something about the way the pages smelled that gave you a high. You’d smile just a bit after that, enjoying yourself a little bit publically, allowing yourself just that one gesture to please yourself. 

You licked your lips after and Bakugou wondered if they tasted just as scrumptious as they looked.

They did.

You slid some strands of your hair behind your ear and he wondered if they felt as soft if he’d pull on them as he pounds into you.

They did.

He noticed how supple your skin looked from under the light in the bookstore and wondered if they’d smell just as divine if he had you under him, begging for him to take you.

It did.

So, he knew you liked him. See, the one thing you liked about Bakugou Katsuki was that he was a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

And this time, he wanted you.

[urcharactersclasspect]

Psst. Can I get some more details about Nazz and Jonny being Bards of Heart? That's a really interesting take imo!

Boy do YOU have an ESSAY to read

As a disclaimer, Ed Edd n Eddy isnt really a very deep show- Theres just tidbits of something deeper sometimes you can gather about the cul de sac and the kids we focus on in the show. Ive watched through the show from episode 1 to Eddy's movie and the last episode. But its been a hot second since Ive been a kid myself and I havent really sat down to watch it in a long time tbh.

Another disclaimer is, even though they share a godtier does not mean they will have the same personality! Since Personality by itself pretty much is not as relevant to classpects as much as how the aspects seem to bend around the person in question as they grow and delevoped. That being said..This is gonna be a long ass read. Im so sorry. I have THOUGHTS on everything.

For Nazz, throughout the show we see her literally making almost every boy in the Cul De Sac crush on her, she has no confirmed feelings until the last movie, where she and kevin want to date. Unlike most heart players in canon and the ones I have met or seen good protrayals of, i dont think she has unrequited feelings and we clearly see as much, but it sure does give me the same energy as Dirk's frequant troubles to just finally spit out his feelings for Jake through extreme indirect means, and how Heart players are actually way better at controlling how or showing how they really feel waaaay more than people give them credit for- This isn't to imply heart players are Emotionless and never show emotion, but Heart players are firmly NOT all sweethearts who are innocent, do no wrongs and are definitely not always bubbly fangirls like Meulin- Hell, even Meulin isn't really probably being honest with her own feelings on things either.  On the contrary, they can be very intense with what they are passionate about whether it be romantic or just an interest of theirs. And usually, like Dirk, they are very self aware of that fact. So they sometimes try to hold back things about themselves they are all too aware of. Sometimes to a detriment, but not always. For Dirk, its his emotions in general he tries to keep to himself. For Meulin its likely her resentment of her team members and holding back her anger at Kurloz or maybe even her feelings for Kurloz still being there.

For the Bard part of her classpect, its the idea that Bards Mirror their opposite. The thing about Nazz is shes actually very responsible! Often giving an air of being very well put together for a kid to the rest of the cul de sacs kids and cool headed more times than not. Its part of the charm. Of her acting cool and casual- And just how she behaves regularly like nothing bothers her, but sometimes you can tell it does or just might (almost like a passive ghost of hpow Dirk acts). You learn over time shes actually very smart, too; she gets very good grades, is a model student who cheerleads, and even was seen as responsible enough by the parents of the cul-de-sac to babysit Eddy. Which definitely says something, I think. This is usually how we see Mind Players- Dirk being so cool headed but only the surface is  too. Since its the stereotype at this point that Mind players are the calm ones (which I have my own opinions on too but thats another essay for another time).

DESPITE this chill and responsible facade on the surface, Nazz has SEVERAL times shown some genuine Heart player impulsiveness or thinking with her heart on a sleeve. She allows Edd into her bathroom without even thinking about it, even when it wasn't cleaned up. You see how she acts on emotion like humouring Edd a lot through the show even by kissing him at one point and dancing with him even when it wasnt the popular thing to do, she humours Kevin but lectures him for his own impulsiveness on pure anger towards the Edds frequantly, passively destroying someone elses impulses and making him think before he acts a little more; In spite of this too, she also can get violent towards the Edds herself and irritable when things dont go her way, and we even learn Nazz for all her coolness and popularity, still has insecurities shes VERY emotional about- her hair being one. Much like Dirk does about this or that. Im sure theres further proof to get what Im saying across, but Im rambling as is. So thats where Ill end that tirade, I think it REALLY fits Nazz.  So theres my conclusion.

For Jonny 2x4. Its easier to tell you why I think it fits him, and Id say its for far more obvious reasons when you really get down to it. Hes probably an example of a Bard that simply hasn't learned how to gauge his aspect very well in every day life, leading to him becoming more of an annoyance to those around him much like how you see Cronus or Gamzee be treated. Someone who hasn't quite "gotten it" yet. I don't think this is nessasarily because Jonny is stupid though, at least maybe not as stupid as he makes himself out to be, since hes shown to definitely have some intellegience, more like its because hes Younger (theres no direct ages we know of?), but he does act a lot younger than Nazz so thats my best assumption, and hes also in a seperate enviroment from Nazz, who I personally see as a far healthier Bard for reasons I'll be getting into in a minute here. just know. Jonny has similiarities to Nazz with how the Heart aspect bends around him; Theres too many instances to count where hes just being impulsive but he tries to come across as braver or calmer than he really is. But if I admitted all of them for Jonny, we'd be here all day long and you'd be reading even MORE.

Lets just go with the obvious signs outside those then.

Jonny is a very lonely kid. This is similiar to Dirk too; Jonny is never seen with any genuine friends except his attempts to befriend the Edds, as stated before some kids in the cul-de-sac consider him to be an annoyance due to his own impulsiveness, and this because hes a very socially awkward kid because even in his own home theres rather dark implications of Child Nelgect or something happening. Even the Creator of the show states this interesting quote in an interveiw: "He'd be more or less thrown out the door at 9am and only let back in when it got dark or if it was time to eat. He had an imaginary friend. " Hes that lonely kid who was so lonely and felt so much so he had to resort to Imaginary friends, imposing an identity to an object that seemingly has a similiar personality to his own or a personality that meshes well enough for them to "get along" and to not get along sometimes- this is seen constantly with Jonny talking to Plank. Jonny sometimes disgrees with the morality of Plank, but hes also best friends with Plank and if I remember correctly, Jonny even says at point they are as close as brothers- PLank knows him more than he knows himself, as Jonny says. Sometimes Plank suggests even illegal things - things a little kid like Jonny (supposedly) wouldn't know about or do himself. Almost like Jonny knows weird things from listening to his parents and imposed them onto Plank, making Plank "real" so Jonny could stay in his own head and pretendHE doesn't know anything. If that makes sense.  Much in the same manner as Dirk having conversations of various focuses with HAL and objects he himself has inputted his will or rather - his Soul and Heart onto.

Thinking about this some more. I think an arguement could be made that Jonny isn't actually a Bard of Heart, but maybe a Bard of MIND. But IM not so sure.

If i think of anything more to add to this, I might revisit my thoughts on it later and reblog or edit it more.

[lifeinthegladhouse]

long personal post apologies to anyone on mobile, just...scroll on by...

---

There’s so many things............I wanted to achieve in 2020, which is I’m sure what everyone has said. Somehow I still think 2017 was worse, but .... I don’t know. I was really alone then. I almost lost both my parents, this year I was safe with a better job, good partner, and only lost one (at least I got to see her once in a decade to say goodbye)....ultimately this brought me to heathenism in a weird and roundabout way. It’s hard to know she was really walking around with this poorly depicted Viking nonsense ‘false odin’ with cerberus (why?) going on, lord, she would’ve hated left heathens BUT ALSO wasn’t even a pagan to begin with (so she says, but being a pentecostal and having psychosis, while this does not a pagan make, made for a quite magickal and brutal experience). my mother was a trickster entity in living flesh. at first, i learned into having guides for the first time. i wondered if it was a coping mechanism, but i shrugged, because it was not my intention to see the numbers repeating, or the ‘loki’ every..single..day..for a week... in the weirdest fucking places... it was not my intention to lose my best friends in this city (which is not my final destination, ha) because they were too busy having poly drama, to, idk, support their friend, and then ghosted me, or came up with some weird passive aggressive bullshit. it totally dominated my 2020 - the pandemic, then mom dying, then the deities, then the loss. my card of the year was the hermit, i thought that was such a joke considering the pandemic. how could that then apply to me more personally? I haven’t had time or space mentally to recount the beautiful parts of the year because we’ve been stuck inside, inside during riots, inside during west coast smoke hell, inside where the spiders are. astoria was beautiful. it was god given. i knew what was real was real that day. it’s been seven months since mom passed, and i know her spirit has contacted me. it has brought me closer to my own spirituality which was accidentally rampant chaos magick that i was unaware of - introduced to me by ten years of tricksters who I never quite recognized. at the altar, id pull cards, i began to learn runes, and id ask, “were you always there? was that the presence that was always there?” I don’t know, much of the paranoid presence I felt my whole life ended when mom died. so much ended. i still want to write about it. again and again. because i forget that it happened, i compressed it so far back. everyone walked away and all that remained was my partner and the unseen. i would get straight answers on the altar, but never for that question. i never understood, and still hardly do, why loki came - was it to console me after the passing of my mother? somehow a veil had been lifted and my already wack ass intuition became 25% greater, somehow i felt seen and heard by others. at first, i was scared... i had always gravitated unknowingly towards tricksters and mercurial beings, loki came during the week of L*ghnasadh, after I’d been reading abt the ACTUAL “mercury”/hermes.... it was as if to be like, oh, you’re looking to NAME US FINALLY? THIS ENERGY, HERE _______. I was a little sheepish of Odin because of the association..... and I never quite got an answer. Sometimes still, I am struggling to understand this deity, however many a time loud and clear he and Loki have responded within the half-hour, be it some really weird ultra-specific shit to crop up, flickering shit, popping, knocking over. I turn to him frequently as, the more I read, the more I trust... this understanding of inarticulatable parts of myself - when I read about odr I was thinking of what this could mean for me, especially as a trans person, and it moved me. when I think about knowledge, and loss... when I think of the underdog vying that Odin (and of course Loki) represent, it is always with grace and honor that I am glad to be In It. I struggle tho, cos no matter how viscerally real my experiences have been, and no matter how little I would ever wish to disrespect them by denying faith, as a human who has run far from christianity and is skeptical of everything, every day, I’m like, ‘how much can I lean into this? is this ‘weird’ or delusional? am i acting like a child?” but, ..... I have learned from many smart and creative folks of the same ilk that we are not alone and the passage of time cannot destroy old gods so easily, and I am honored to be called to that. 2020.....that is.....to me, the year of death and rebirth. it was the only parting gift mom could give me. as she died, I told her I knew the lord had brought me there. I knew we had made it JUST in time, by many many strokes of good ‘luck’, to see her off. the last day we saw her was the last day she’d ever seen both her children together in her life. of course, she probably hardly recognized me. and she loved my brother more. had spent less time with him. oh lord, she did look at me with burning eyes of distrust and hatred, but that was not her fault. she was so ill. god she was so ill. dad joked, after she died, ‘maybe she’ll finally be in valhalla’, he didnt know what that meant. mom was a ‘devout’ christian woman of “god”. she was no pagan. she did not serve odin. but 2 months later when I discovered them, I heard his words ringing in my head, and I had to laugh. It’s been so hard...losing the queer comrades I had with me because of ? what ? exactly ? I still dn’t know, watching someone I spent 3 years being ‘close’ to basically patronize me that she always had reservations about us, never let me in, or get closer, like real friends, .... id cry and cry thinking, why, did i lose the one figure who brought me into this world, who i never had, for ten years, who abandoned me and hated every ounce of my being, and to confront this NOW in the middle of a pandemic, where i have zero way to the outside world to cope, and then to be left behind AGAIN by SO MANY PEOPLE, i felt Loki’s comforting presence. I’m trying to focus on the future again, that’s what 2021 is giving me. the “year” label, “when mom died” is over. even if that event forever changed my life far beyond that of a normal passing (?) I mean, it’s never normal when a mom dies, much less a woman like her, have mercy, it’s over. 2021 is the “year when we move to los angeles” its the “year when i start a REAL band again instead of be a side piece for a woman who cant get real with herself and her drum machine”, the “year when maybe ill take my adhd meds and hrt” we’re suspended in a stasis, there are big ups and downs. in two weeks i quit my med of 2 years, because it’s causing harm and i actually dont technically need to be on it anymore. im scared and excited. i need the change. i need the CHOICE. 

[arlakos]

The Master Fu rewrite: From a Miraculous Themed Pez Dispenser to an Actual Mentor

Ok, let's get this show on the road. Its gonna be a while and a lot of salt/

Master Fu is a character I have grown to dislike. A lot

While I initially did not feel this way at first (at worst finding him to be boring) thanks to some interesting discord discussions, as well as discussing with my internet best friend @twin-books​, I have slowly come to see the character in a negative light in many different aspects, ranging from the characterization of Fu to the plot choices Fu makes that are in many ways stupid as hell. However, unlike some who I have talked, I believe that Fu in many ways can still be salvaged as a character. He’s not a bad character himself, just that the way the show (and by extension Thomas ASS-truc, aka THAT GUY) treats him is the issue. 

In this post I am going to tackle the key issues with Fu, explain them and what i would do to personally make his character better. I am not gonna lie, this post is going to have a moderate amount of salt, so if you arent interested in a salty blog post, TURN BACK.

So, assuming that you have accepted the salt by continuing to read, let's get started.

There are a few key pointers to the issues I have with Fu.

1. His character

2. Show, don't tell

3. Fu’s weird choices

4. The bad Origin Episode of Fu (not to be confused with the actual origins episode.

So let's go over the first topic.

1. Master Fu’s character (or why he’s a glorified PEZ dispenser)

A lot of people may find this part to be surprising. After all, Master Fu shows himself in canon to be kind and helpful towards Marinette, developing new powers for her and Chat Noir to use and has helped the heroes in stopping some of their adversaries. Right?

Well...

See, the only actual characterization that Fu has is well... his passiveness.

See Master Fu, for the most part, does nothing to actually help the heroes in their struggles against Hawkmoth. For most of season 2 and 3, he remains inside his home and pretty much does nothing, doing nothing to help track down hawkmoth or aide the heroes himself, and then for the second half of season 3, runs around in a van. He gives the miraculous to Ladybug and Chat Noir to have them stop hawkmoth, then watches from the sidelines while drinking tea.

The only time he really did anything developed the potions that give the powerups (and based off what we saw, are huge gimmicks), and even then, it was simply used as another way to show how awesome Marinette is by her being the one to solve the potion.

Sure, some people may point out that it was used to show how Marinette is a capable Guardian, but aside from the fact that I think Marinette is not a capable Guardian (which is my opinion), it really doesn't help the fact that it makes Fu seem incompetent.

Slight Rant time: The secret to one of the potions was an actual tear of joy?! What kind of stupid ingredient is that? It would have made much more sense for writers to make the ingredient to be some sort of plant because of the whole ‘natural energy’ in plants, but no its an actual tear of joy, what did the guardians do to learn that, cry in a pot?! Also, For someone who is supposed to be a wise Guardian, you sure can’t seem to find out the last ingredient like its impossible. But a prepubescent girl who can't talk to a boy is totally smarter than you and can figure it out?! Yeah right.

And people are going to bring up the fact that Fu helps by granting the miraculous... but that really doesn’t help the argument against him. In fact its one of the main reasons why I think Fu is so passive. Rather than go out and give the miraculous to allies in the same manner as he did with Ladybug and Chat Noir, Fu just gives them to Marinette to just choose whoever she wants and expects them to be returned! 

Not only is that irresponsible of any sort of mentor to allow a novice to choose a hero, but what if Marinette chose wrong or allowed the Miraculous to fall into the wrong hands because she lost it?! Because of surprise, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED IN STYLE QUEEN when she lost the bee miraculous! 

Despite the fact that I love the idea of Chloe being a hero, I think the introduction to how she got a miraculous was largely Fu’s fault. Had Fu decided to have a look at Chloe (assuming he ever would have) and introduced Chloe to Pollen in a safe manner (and not while she was upset and visibly stressed/angry), she would have learned that keeping a secret identity was important and would likely go on to become an actual hero like Ladybug and Chat Noir.

A lot of people would assume she would do the same thing again regardless, but Chloe at the time was flat out rejected by her mother, who was a rather huge Bee-word (Pun intended). It would make sense that she would do whatever it takes to prove to her mother she is worthy of respect, and that would include exposing her identity just to show off to her mother.

Despite all of the hardships both Ladybug and Chat Noir go through, Fu does nothing to remedy or help the situation. This can even be seen in Season 1, where the only reason Fu reveals himself was because Marinette discovered the Miraculous Book, and Fu (and even Marinette for that matter) didn't even tell Chat until season 2 because ‘he wasn't ready’, whatever reason that is.

Rant: What the hell do you mean he wasn't ready?! He literally became a hero the same time as Ladybug and he it’s not like he hasn’t proven himself! Why the hell should he be left in the dark?!

Now, a lot of people could attribute all these moments to both his responsibility as a Guardian or his isolation at being the Last Guardian so to speak. He has to make sure the Box is safe and make sure the knowledge is passed on to his successor without it being lost. His recessive behavior is due to his isolation and duty to keep the miraculous safe.

If that was the case, why does he do nothing to aid the heroes in finding Hawkmoth or his lair so that the miraculous doesn't remain in Gabriel’s hands? That way he can move on and keep the miraculous safe away from others. We know he is supposed to be smart, so why doesn't he just attempt to find the place the butterflies are coming from and tell Ladybug and Chat Noir via a message so they can ambush him?

So...what would i do to fix his Character?

Well for starters, I would actually have him be a bit more proactive. 

Considering that Fu would recognize the threat Hawkmoth poses, he would work down to track Hawkmoth and prevent him from getting anymore stronger. It would also be likely that he would choose which people should get a miraculous, regardless of whether it is temporary or not, so this would likely mean that Alya, Nino, and Chloe would not likely get their respective miraculi, even if Fu deems them worthy of one.

Note: This would actually make a cool AU. Imagine if Fu chose other people in the class to be heroes, like Nathaniel to be the fox and Luka to say, the turtle. Perhaps Sabrina would be the Bee hero?

Also, perhaps if you really wanted to keep the Queen Bee Trilogy, have Ladybug finally choose a hero as part of her first test, but have it go wrong for her.

Also, If anyone has seen the series on AO3 called Miraculous Tales by JED1, one of the things introduced in the sort of AU was that Fu worked behind the scenes for a majority of season 1, helping the heroes by sending them anonymous letters to aid them in their heroics. So that could be another way Fu could be more of an active mentor instead of just doing nothing except dispensing Miraculous.

Also, I know the whole thing about Fu being too old to be a hero, but what If Fu transformed to help the heroes in one of their early adventures.

Say... instead of Volpina being the season 1 finale, it is instead an early encounter with Hawkmoth, who comes to fight the heroes himself. The two heroes have been weakened thanks to the effect of an Akuma Hawkmoth has with him. He is so close to beating them...

When a shield of green energy blocks an attack from the Akuma.

Together, the three heroes managed to stop Hawkmoth and his Akuma, but unfortunately, he escapes. Before the two heroes can talk to the newcomer, he vanishes. 

The next day, Marinette goes to see the person Tikki mentioned, and she meets her savior (and soon to be teacher).

A few days later Adrien meets his new Chinese teacher.

That Could be a great way for him to actually be a Guardian and a mentor for the two heroes! As well as for Adrien to actually be part of the Miraculous team instead of as a sidekick!

Still, some people may say that Fu helps Marinette and Adrien, it's just not shown on screen. This, of course, brings me to my second problem...

2. Show, Don't Tell

Now, this a problem that the show has a and isn't solely based on Fu alone, and is mostly due to THAT GUY and his stupid writing. Anyone who has seen my previous mega-post knows about THAT GUY and his ludicrous idea of a perfect show. I could go on and on about why THAT GUY can go eat a stale Baguette, but I'm going to stick on track.

See, when a large part of the show is about heroics and being mentored on the art of heroics, it makes sense that you would show the heroes learning how to be actual good heroes. Maybe teach them martial arts, train them in the use of their powers and help them unlock new ones, all that usual superhero stuff.

But thanks to both the structure of the show and the impossible writing of THAT GUY (which concists of writing each episode to be single story and out of order insead of each episode following the last), we don't get to see any of it at all. The show rather would want to focus on setting up the next akuma rather than explore the world of the show, so it means that a lot of the stuff in show is just presumed. 

This can also go for simple lore stuff as well. For example, Adrien joined Kitty Section in the Captain Hardrock episode, yet he isn't in Silencer. Nobody would know what had happened until you had the mistake of seeing Astruc's twitter...

So yeah, its not the first time it has happened, but it shouldn't have to be this way in the first place! If you have to go to someones twitter to find the knowledge from a show that should have been there in the actual episode, then its not the fans fault for ‘oBvIOUSly’ not knowing, its THAT GUY’S fault for not making sure that bit of information was in the episode in the first place! Perhaps just a small scene explaining it instead of being passive agressive on twitter because you were too dumb to remember your own canon?

...Dammit i got off track. Back to Fu.

So yeah, in Miraculous, they dont actually show Fu teaching Marinette how to be a guardian. He does mention in Feast that he has chosen Marinette to be the next Guardian and that he will teach her (after basically insulting the traditions of his order), but considering that he goes off in his truck and stays on the move, its likely that he doesnt get the chance to teach her at all. Of course, Miracle Queen has him declare Marinette to be the new Guardian, but it feels rather jarring, as we never really feel that Marinette learned anything or she has proven her worth. All they really showed on the show was Marinette getting miraculi from Fu and that one episode with the potions, so we really never really think that she is ready. Sure we can assume that Ladybug is capable of choosing the right people to be heroes, but that doesn't mean she meets the other criteria because of that specific category.

Honestly its very simple how to fix this issue:

Have some episodes be about Fu teaching Marinette and Adrien. That way it makes sense when Ladybug is made the new Guardian. Perhaps have an episode revolve around a particular new thing about the book the heroes are learning from and have the akuma not be related to the episode theme for once, just have them there as an excuse to show off a new power, even if it is a gimmick.

Speaking of the book, the book seems like its never been fully explored or explained, or perhaps that it really doesn't seem to contain much.

Throught the entire 3 seasons, all that we have learned about the book is:

That it contains the list of all miraculous heroes

It shows how to make the power up potions

It shows how to combine the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous

It shows how to repair a miraculous

It would be nice for the book to be used to explain the background of the order, or perhaps it shows a way to grant Ladybug and Chat Noir new powers for their miraculous, and have them learn about the guardians for the plot and themselves so we can have a ‘moral of the story’ for the episode.

3. Fu’s weird Choices

Fu makes a lot of dumb choices in Miraculous Ladybug. I’ll make this one quick but i will explain a few new ones in more detail

Fu doesnt help Ladybug and Chat Noir until season 2. Sure it makes sense to wait until they both prove themselves trustworthy, but he leaves no advice for them, not even with their kwamis for safety reasons.

Fu doesnt tell Chat Noir the truth until Syren for no actual reason (thats 14 canonical episodes!)

Fu lets Marinette choose the miraculous despite her lack of training (yes, even if she does choose well in canon.)

Fu lets Marinette return the Miraculous book despite how important it is to the order (even if he did take pictures). Marinette doing it to let Adrien come back to school is still wrong, even if it is to help her friend.

Now for the actual big mistake of Fu.

In feast, the order of the Miraculous has been restored, and so have the people inside it. His master and all the people he knows is there. With Hawkmoth knowing his identity, it would make sense for Fu to travel back to China and back to the temple with the Miraculous Book to be deciphered by the other Guardians, using the Horse Miraculous to transport Miraculi to the wielders when necessary.

...Right?

...Nah that’s dumb (saying this sarcastically)

Instead, he stays in Paris, hiding in a truck, and basically gets himself kidnapped and the box stolen, resulting in him having to give up his memories to protect the heroes because he decided a truck was a better idea than keeping the box out of Hawkmoth’s grasp.

How would I fix it? It’s obvious, just have Fu be smart and not make any of the listed bad decisions. With the power of an entire miracle box in his hands, he could have just used the powers to keep himself out of Hawkmoth’s grip and give the miraculi when necassary, even if he decided not to go back to the temple.

And finally we come to the big bad, the main offender, the reason why I think Fu is a badly written character...

4. The bad Origin Episode of Fu (not to be confused with the actual origins episode.

Going back to the start of season 2, i actually like how Fu is introduced. From the initial start he shows himself as a wise and caring mentor for Ladybug (and Chat Noir) and actually sounds confident. When I hear him talk about the Order of the Guardians, and his own backstory, it sounds both intriguing yet tragic. 

The fall of the Order was Fu’s fault, but how could this be? Was it because Fu was betrayed by someone he chose as a hero, perhaps a Butterfly wielder? Were they attacked and Fu blames himself due to survivors guilt? Did fu touch an artifact that released an ancient evil?I didn’t know, but i was curious and wanted to know more. 

For that first initial introduction, I could imagine that the season was going to be great. I hadn’t learned the revelation that Gabe was Hawkmoth and seen the rest of the ep at the time (which was boring in comparison and just like season 1 but WORSE), so I was still excited for this season That we as an audience would finally learn more about the world of miraculous and explore this new chapter in the show while seeing Ladybug and Chat Noir fight new villains along the way.

Obviously, that didnt last with Miraculous being Miraculous, and it was around that time i learned about how THAT GUY was an asshole, and the discord server that i joined showed the shortcoming with the show, but even looking back on it now, i could imagine that season 2 could have been amazing.

Seriously just look at the video above, its a downright amazing intro to Fu.

So finally season 3 comes around, and the episode Feast is released. So how did the temple fall? What is this secret that Fu kept hidden from us? Surely after a season of buildup that the BACK STORY WAS GOING TO BE AMAZING-

....

So, the whole reason the order fell was becasue Fu was hangry and he dabbled with magic so he could sneek off to grab a bit and not do his job?

...

*Sigh*

...

░U░N░H░O░L░Y░ ░S░C░R░E░E░C░H░I░N░G░

This is it, all this buildup and this is the reason that an entire order Fell! Are you kidding me!?

Not only was this one of the worst writing decisions that has ever been made, but it also made Fu look like a complete and utter moron! I get that this show is mainly used by THAT GUY to make Marinette look better than everyone else, but COME ON!!! WHAT WAS THAT?! WHY WAS THAT?! HOW DID ANYONE ON THE MIRACULOUS TEAM THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA. DOES EVERYONE JUST  LET ASS-TRUC DO WHAT HE WANTS BECAUSE NO ONE CAN TELL HIM HIS IDEAS ARE DUMB?!

...

Ok, calm down. Calm down...

Well, aside from that really stupid decisionholycrap- the sentimonster itself wasnt that bad. The idea of it is rather terrifying and explains why Fu needs to always keep moving and is so passive for fear of the monster finding him and chasing him. But the whole origin story for Fu is a bunch of crap. Not only does it waste the buildup of that moment, but it also makes Fu seem so incompetent. It’s obvious that THAT GUY used this as to show why Marinette is a better Guardian than Fu, but as someone that actually likes good writing, i choose to reject that idea. Just because Astruc messes up the ideas of the show, it doesnt mean that the concepts are bad, and i’ll be damned if I let that affect me or my own canon!

So how would I rewrite this monstrosity of an origin?

Literally replace it with anything of the backstories i mentioned. Have Fu been betrayed by a Butterfly wielder, have the temple be attacked, anything that what we have been given. I’d make a joke about a funny idea for the fall of the order, but the origin of Fu in Feast is already a joke. A bad one

And with that, here’s how I would rewrite Fu to be a better character. 

With these changes, I feel he would be a much competent and interesting character and a better mentor for our heroes. If you guys feel some other changes would be needed for Fu, or if you think I'm wrong about something because either i missed something important or you think that Fu being incompetent is a great way to show girl power for Marinette (Lots of sarcasm at that last part), feel free to send me an ask about what I would do about this part and that part for Fu or another character, or just tell me that I’m wrong.

Can’t wait for Season 4! Let's see if Zag can fix the mess Astruc made.

Also, please for the love of god go read Miraculous Tales by JED1, they are amazing. And follow @twin-books​, they helped me so much with rewriting Fu.

[albatris]

rambles, here are some of them

not the rambles I mentioned the other day and might still post at some stage, these are some different rambles, these are just some wandering thoughts and me thinking aloud, all subject to change

there is some. interesting. ground to cover in terms of Marrick potentially working with the DII

it makes a lot more sense in terms of the plot, and clears up how he gains access to certain things, and how he gets some of the information he has, how his plans play out, etc...... and also makes his involvement with Avery and Noa and some of the other people who work/have worked in the sorta base levels of the DII make a lot more sense in terms of it not being “too convenient”

and I don’t think he works For Them, necessarily, maybe just In Cooperation With, maybe just someone who was off doing interesting work and making a bit of a name for himself, and the DII thought that certain avenues of his research could be beneficial to them so they were like “hey you’ve got some solid stuff going on here, we’d be happy to help you out with resources and support if you continue and work in conjunction with us” or something like that

which is good for them and good for Marrick, like, it’s in the DII’s best interests to stay in the loop with whatever new information is coming to light about the apocalypse and its various manifestations and Marrick’s niche area of interest is something they’re keen to see explored, and it’s in Marrick’s best interest ‘cause jumping on board with the DII means he’ll have access to a lot of money and resources and information he didn’t have access to before and he can do Bigger and Better and More Interesting stuff

and like. obviously there’s some screening involved like they’re not just gonna hand some random guy all this stuff and be like “go wild”, like......... I’d like to emphasise that Marrick starts being shifty as hell LONG after he’s initially brought on board, and he kinda? starts using some of these resources to do his own kinda dodgy secret work in addition to whatever else

and like! oh, as a general rule, Marrick is completely on board with Helping Everyone, but it’s more like................ y’know, his first and foremost priority is self-preservation. it’s a good look for him to be like “I want to find a way to help everyone!” when in reality it’s more like, he’s looking for a way to help himself, and by extension, his findings will help others. but he doesn’t care about that and when push comes to shove, and will absolutely throw everyone else under the bus if it means he can save himself

so yes he helps the DII out but he’s also gone kind of rogue and is doing a lot of other shifty stuff he doesn’t tell the DII about, stuff that’s a little more morally iffy

and I’d like to talk about the DII some, now, because like

in general

there’s a lot to be said about how the DII is also.......... not....... great? its end goal is......... fine. good, even. like, they are genuinely truly trying to solve problems caused by the apocalypse and find a way to mend things and help the world deal with its effects. I would say their goal is pretty decent. but like. they tend to pour resources into two things

the first being The Bigger Picture

in terms of, like, y’know......... the future! the grand scheme! Here’s What We’re Doing To Ensure Tomorrow Is Better! which is absolutely not a bad thing on its own but there’s so much focus on this big abstract concept of The Future and not, y’know, the very real horrors and struggles that people are going through right now. which is also something the DII exists to deal with. there’s an issue with the DII as a whole largely not caring about the people who are currently living their lives facing the brunt of the apocalypse head on, and there’s definitely......... like, this absolutely includes the field teams and branches of the DII that have to actually go out and deal with Ports and Port-related emergencies directly, these folks r largely viewed by the organisation as vaguely expendable, they’re a necessary sacrifice, some loss is unavoidable, blah blah blah, and most importantly there are always going to be broke desperate people around to fill the gaps

and there’s a HUGE difference in the amount of resources and attention and support given to field teams in, say, places that have less Ports, places that still have an image of being relatively stable and safe, where the DII wants to Keep It Safe And Stable At All Costs, vs. places that are collapsing at the seams and that the DII views as essentially a lost cause and not worth the cost or stress, but they still have to fill a certain quota so they just sorta toss people in there like Hey Good Luck

n on that note, the second thing is, like.......... just Maintaining An Image

which is a HUGE running theme throughout the entire story on an interpersonal level too and that's a whole other post, this idea of an image being projected vs the reality of the situation, and the damage caused by just..... not seeing, or not being seen, or refusing to see, or being deprived of the right to be seen

but in terms of the DII it's about maintaining some illusion of safety and control, trying to keep everyone calm and avoid panic, which again.... not necessarily bad? but they're more interested in projecting the image that they Have Things Under Control, so they pour resources into things that will lend themselves to that competent and stable image, rather than perhaps things that need it more

because, and this is key, the DII has NO FUCKING IDEA what they’re doing

they don’t know fucking SHIT. they are only slightly less in the dark than the rest of the population and they are terrified and they have no idea how to solve this mess, and they’re trying to, like............. figure out the source of the apocalypse, figure the best way to combat it, find out what the fuck Ports are....... and like, yeah that’s a lot of pressure! and they’re I guess kind of scrambling to deal with this while keeping everyone from freaking the fuck out and yeah I guess it is a lot

and in their eyes I guess they don’t have the Time or Resources to care about anything other than the bigger picture which is....................... hm. bad

BUT WAIT HOLD ON OK I GOT OFF TRACK

Marrick working in conjunction with the DII, that’s what this post was originally about, uhhhhhh

there’s some interesting and perhaps valuable ideas to explore in terms of like

do they intentionally turn a blind eye? do they know that Marrick is most likely hiding something from them or doing something a little less than morally upstanding, but are deliberately choosing not to look into it? or like. do they NOT know at all, and when they find out are they like “hey that’s bad and not what we roped you in here to do and we want no part of this”

‘cause with the latter, there’s a LOT to be explored then in terms of like

the DII’s willingness to sorta..... passively allow people to come into/wander into harm’s way for the quote unquote “greater good”, being viewed as “collateral” or “unavoidable tragic loss”.......... vs how quick they are to voice their aversion to and disgust with someone Actively Causing Harm to others for the quote unquote “greater good”

but then with the FORMER there’s also like.......... with the idea that they’re choosing not to look into something they highly suspect is shifty as fuck, there’s this infinitely more grim idea of like. maybe they’re down for this kind of thing in theory provided it’s done quietly because it’s a Necessary Sacrifice and a Small Price To Pay, but condemn this current situation purely because it turns big and loud and public and they know it will look bad if they don’t

which is something I’ll definitely need to brush upon as a theory regardless but might not exactly confirm one way or the other

anyway actually dudes I originally went to type this post intending to make a stupid joke because I was considering marrick working with the DII's resources and thought the mental image was fun if he was like........ 

giving his dumb melodramatic cartoon supervillain monologue and being like "oh you think the DII will help you?? they've been in on this all along" like some kind of gotcha, and then the DII being like "dude no??? this is what you've been doing???? this is not what you told us you were doing?? you're definitely going to prison???? what the fuck???" and marrick being just like "oh :("

which I think is fucking funny as a concept but only works as funny in a situation where the DII aren't just entirely as terrible. passively or actively or otherwise

so no that joke no longer stands lmao. ‘cause like. either way it goes with the DII the implications are bad, y'know, like, even if the DII is like "oh fuck that's bad we don't want any part of this" they still.... allowed it to happen? and there's again the question of moral obligation, of What And Who Are Expendable and whether actively causing harm is worse than passively allowing it to happen in your name

and typing this post up is like

hm

this is all. a lot

I feel like I'm not equipped to handle writing this kind of thing even though I think it's definitely the direction it needs to go, like

there's a lot of other intense things going on and I'm fine with the interpersonally intense and much kinda.... smaller level themes but this is kind of Saying Something with a bit of direction and force and idk if I'm a smart enough writer or if I have enough finesse to tackle it????? i feel like there's a lot of nuance involved and I'm gonna have to do a lot of work which is fair

there's just a lot happening and I'm a whole dumbass and it all needs A Lot Of Further Consideration

[2ofswords]

for your analysis meme: clara

This is going to be so much fun and so very tough, because Clara is such an amazingly complicated character! God, I love her so much but part of that is because she is very ambivalent and hard to describe. She is one of these characters where you can find an opposite trait for every other one she has (which is kind of the point of her). Also: I still haven’t played the Changeling route in Patho1 and I have a stronger understanding of the Patho2 universe… so bear with me. I will try my best to analyse our favorite saint.

their biggest strength

I needed to think a while about this one and the term that stuck with me was attentive cleverness. Because I really couldn’t decide if I wanted to call her attentive or clever and luckily these two can be combined into something, I find pretty precise for what I want to describe. Clara is very clever and has a lot of knowledge that not really anyone else in the patho-universe can gain (or at least the amount of it, people share bits and pieces). She is the healer most aware of the meta-narrative and at least in routes that aren’t hers is telling you either that she knows more than you do or straight out telling you something, you needed to know (and probably didn’t want to). As is obvious by her focus on hands and talking her main skill is also interaction with other people… but I think a lot of it comes from the fact, that Clara is a good listener. Which seems to be counter-intuitive because listening is assigned as Artemy’s domain in the artbook, but I think the other word used – rhythms – is pretty important here. Artemy’s skill is finding connections, intuit solutions as well as similarities and differences (there is a reason he realizes his similarities to Aglaya’s description of the inquisition) and gaining cultural knowledge that he then transforms into practical and usable abilities. Clara’s “listening” is more about singular people’s well-being and personal struggle. (She is like a good therapist. If your therapist wanted to convert you into a sacrificial religion. ^^) She interacts with her surroundings directly and attentively. I mean, she is very well informed very early on without really having a live before that or at least not in town (again, I did not play the changeling route yet and do not know her origins or how ambiguous they are kept at the end. Either way, she arrives in town at the beginning of the game and navigates her way pretty well.) However only calling her attentive sounds like the trait is a passive one which is not something I mean. Both her personas as a saint and a thief use her knowledge that is gained by being attentive in unconventional ways and/or for unconventional means. As noted in the beginning, Clara is very clever and that in combination with her noticing even small discrepancies and listening to people makes her able to peek behind the curtain of the game in the first place. It also helps to get yourself into places people normally wouldn’t want a teenage girl to be and Clara knows and is fully willing to use this ability. It is both the reason why she knows so much more about the greater scope of the disaster and also why she always seems to be able to get into any place she wants to. By the way, just as an afterthought: Of course that ability doesn’t come and is in fact enhanced by empathy. I do not think, Clara is listening to people only to use them and to gain information. You can genuinely be willing to listen to someone and still use the information you get out of these conversations. Listening carefully and actively engaging with other people is a great part of that strength!

their greatest weakness

Does “not being able to hold a knife when the town wants you dead” count as a weakness? Okay seriously, I have a really hard time to put what I consider her weakness into one expressive term. So I will talk about it first at length and then we will see. What caught my mind first was ironically Clara’s problems with communication. That might be the case because, yes, I still haven’t played her route, so I am working mostly on her ways of communication with the other healers. But Clara really has a lot of strong points that she has trouble getting across or acknowledged. Sometimes that is definitely not her fault and one of her problems is, that she is not taken seriously by other people. But trying to persuade someone to their cause and emphasizing the reason with an elaborate monologue how the other healers are demons. Daniil was genuinely asking, why you wrote your letter about your destiny, it’s fine! Same happens in Pathologic 2. Saying someone to stay put when they are in a pretty bad spot already is not a bad idea and Artemy is pretty open to both warnings and clairvoyance in general but saying. “Nope, do literally nothing even if you know you want to, I am a better doctor anyways” is… yeah hurting him in his professional pride isn’t exactly a smart move. Often it feels like she really has a chance to explain and the other healers would probably listen but then there is just a terrible miscommunication. (Which is a thing for all of the healers but Clara I-am-going-to-call-your-father-a-horrible-person-while-we-are-at-his-funeral Saburova… Look, it might be true but it is also hilarious.) But putting communication skills here would still be weird, since… you know… she is pretty good at communicating in different ways! And also all three healers are pretty prone to miscommunication albeit in different ways and for different reasons… So I think we have to dig a bit deeper still… So why is this happening and hindering her? There are multiple reasons to come to this conclusion. One I would call childlike stubbornness. (Which btw. Is also one of her strengths, but… it is Clara, everything is also its opposite. God I love her so much, she is just so hard to describe, it’s amazing!) Even with all of her wisdom and cleverness… Clara is still a child. As she should be, it makes her so much more interesting! But she also has this childlike quality of just… assuming people will completely understand and accept what she is trying to see and getting frustrated the moment it doesn’t happen. This is one of her contradictions. She is so very attentive, and she can touch other people with her hands as well as her words, but she also is inexperienced and doesn’t really know a lot about the world or about how to socially approach people which can be a big problem, if she desperately needs someone to listen. The other argument would be about her role in the plot and the way she regards her own role as well as the other healers. She is the most aware one and she does indeed know a solution to the dilemma of the story (if we do not conclude that this is a three way battle, but I exclude my thoughts about the factions themselves for this. She definitely though knows how to get rid of the town vs. polyhedron conflict) but this also puts her in direct opposition to both healers. Which… you know is completely fair and not a weakness. But, she is very uncompromising about this and while all of them are – at least when they are not the main protagonists – Clara is the most unmoving and also uncompromising of the three, telling everyone always very directly how she things the others are shit. Which again, is very justified but becomes a big problem when she needs help and makes it harder for her to express her own thoughts, even if they are very justified and might even help all parties. Speaking in riddles and of concepts beyond something we would see as our reality surely doesn’t help there either.

a headcanon about their childhood

Oh dear, tbh I am not even sure how metaphorical she just crawled out of the earth at the beginning of the game and if she even has a proper childhood… I think it is pretty literal but there are allusions in Patho2 that she actually has a past? At least she speaks about it and I guess it can be as made up as real. (A classic Clara move ^^) And having no defined past is kind of a big thing for her so… sorry, no childhood headcanon here.  

a headcanon about their future (if they have one)

Again, I am not really sure if she stays in town or leaves with Block and I have read fanfiction with both, so I am not sure if there is a consensus in fandom either… If she stays in town I imagine her still being with the Saburovs but I do not know, if I really like this headcanon, since abandoning your newly found orphan in the middle of a plague is really something that should revoke parent rights… But on the other thing the position among the mistresses seems to still be pretty defined at least in the endings in Patho 2. I like to see her travelling with Block at least for a while. Maybe not at the front, that would be just… bad. But she also seems like the person who would just poke their head around at random intervals and nobody really knows, when she will get back and somehow Clara still knows exactly what is going on in town… Still she also seems pretty bound to the place and she has business there… it’s a tough call. She will definitely fire up the rivalry of the mistresses by a lot though. Probably even if she is just there for a second, she would definitely sow some mischief between Capella and Maria! Another triad of petty politics for her! Yay?

a small detail/scene that leaves a great impact

Oh dear, every scene she is in is just so impactful! (Also never knowing which Clara is with you right now (if there even is a difference) doesn’t make this easier...) I really like her quest in Artemy’s run, where she is upset about not knowing what exactly she is in the first place… but that is not really a small details or scene. Same goes for the cathedral and her offer to meet the inquisitor together with Dankovsky to stand up for that whole disaster. Which is still a really heroic but also not really a small scene and there is nothing to talk about there aside from “man, is Clara brave and set on doing the right thing!” I also think the letter about her ending is really interesting because it is just so out there and giving all of her bound a demonic nickname is just so over the top, but tbh all of the ending letters are very… passionate. So this might be more the games writing even if they lampshade it and talk to each other like the other one is the only healer in town who wrote a completely insane letter… But I digress. While I love Clara’s Patho1 design, I will say that I love her shaved hair in Patho2 and the commentary the artbook has for it. Seeing it as a sign of sickness or a deliberate mark of sainthood is just so on point for her! It is a really nice visual piece for her characterization and I also think putting the beany on top of it makes it even better. It is contradicting but firstly she deliberately kind of tries to hide her own contradictions (I mean, it is not part of her! It is just the sister, she is wrong!), which is also a nice added detail. Also, she might combine contradicting elements, but god, she is doing it with style!

their philosophy/worldview (or part of it) described in one neat little sentence

I am throwing the towel! How should this even work with Clara??? She has different philosophies and worldviews! Also, I think they differ a bit between the first and second game. The first one aligns a lot with the humble faction from what we hear but in the second game her dialogue alludes more vaguely to touching and changing people and not necessarily to “The right people must die for our world to continue” which is most of what I heard from her. Hm… How about: A saint’s duty is to touch the immoral and diseased, thus one can never rid themselves of all dirt. I am not that happy with this one, but… at least it has the whole touching other people thing in it and it is about good people not being pure, which also is a theme with her. It still sounds a bit judgemental and I don’t really like this emphasis of the “dirtied” but… I mean this is what Clara talks about in her letter, so I still think it fits, even if I would dare to say that she shows a lot more compassion than this sentence shows.

[sara-scribbles]

Learning to Live (Part 2)

Líf/F!Summoner Note: It’s been a long time, but I’m still working on this AU. When will IS release Líf?!

Part 1 Part 2

Watching as some of the heroes had mock battles, Kiran would sometimes call to some. Most times it was just to make sure they were okay. Other times she offered advice. However Kiran tried to keep from interrupting too much. The heroes needed to learn to strategize without her.

She internally winced when Ike took a hard hit. “Ike! Remember your resistance to magic isn’t that strong even against a green tome user. Take what hits you can, but rely on others to mitigate the damage.”

The vanguard picked himself up. “Right.” He frowned as he steadied his weapon.

Sighing, she made her way across the field. Anna was holding a map out. She was gesturing to something while Alfonse and Sharena nodded. Sidling up to the prince, Kiran rested her elbow on his shoulder. “What’cha got there?”

“Commander Anna is thinking of adding more defenses on the east side,” Sharena explained.

“Well that side is in need of some updates.” Kiran nodded. “Maybe we should spruce up the lookout posts too?”

Anna frowned. “We’ll have to dip into our reserves. We are running low on funds since we haven’t raised any money of late.”

Alfonse sighed. “I know that look. What money making scheme are you coming up with now?”

The redhead shrugged. “Nothing concrete yet. But spring is just around the corner…”

Kiran chuckled. “Does this mean we’ll see a return of bunny Sharena and Al?”

The prince’s face paled. “Anything but that.”

“But you made such an adorable bunny!” Sharena cooed. “I bet Kiran would make a nice one too.”

“Sure I’m up for it.” Kiran grinned. “I haven’t been able to dress up for the festivals before. I think I would make a great spring rabbit.”

Anna shook her head. “I don’t think we’ll have the money for that. Though maybe there are some heroes willing to pay for a photo of Kiran in a bunny suit…” The commander started mumbling to herself and writing. Kiran could see the dollar signs in her eyes.

“Do I want to know who wants to see me in a bunny outfit?” Kiran asked the royal siblings; her eyes darted around.

Alfonse shook his head with a grimace. “I highly doubt that.”

“I would want one! And one of Alfonse too!” Sharena stated unabashed.

Laughing, the Summoner turned her attention back to the training. “Have you guys seen Líf?” Based on the training schedule she had made, he was supposed to be there as well.

Sharena shrugged. “I think he was at breakfast, but left rather quickly. I feel like he’s avoiding me.” She frowned. “I guess it’s hard for him since his world is gone. I wish there was something we could have done…”

“He made a deal with Hel and lost. There isn’t much we can do for those who are gone.” Alfonse looked off in the distance. “I can’t say if I wouldn’t have done the same if I had been in his place.”

Running her fingers through her hair, Kiran sighed deeply. “Alright, enough talk. You guys need to get to training too.” She watched as they took their leave. “Anna?”

“Yeah?” She didn’t look up from her furious scribbling.

“I’m going to take a break. I’ll see you for the meeting tonight.” Leaving the training grounds, Kiran walked through the castle.

Her thoughts wandered to the deadly swordsman. She often wondered if they were just lucky to have met Hel later than Líf’s world did. They were able to defeat Hel because his Askr had failed. If it had been reversed, they would be in different spots. Their Order of Heroes would be gone. Sharena, Anna, everyone would be gone while Alfonse would remain hanging on to his regrets.

So in thought Kiran walked smack into another person. Her head knocked against hard metal and she stumbled back. A slew of swears left her mouth as she touched her forehead. Looking up, her frown deepened as the target of her thoughts stood in front of her.

“Líf...you didn’t come to training.” The bruise on her forehead smarted. She rubbed it, trying to soothe the sting.

He stared at her passively. “I did not want to come.”

“Well you should train some. I don’t want you to get out of shape,” she joked. When he didn’t respond, she cleared her throat. “I realize you’re averse to being around people, but you should try to make some friends.”

“I thought it was up to me to decide.” An eyebrow went up.

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“You said, a few weeks ago, that it was up to be to decide whether I wanted to live or not.” He watched her face for a reaction.

“Huh, I didn’t think you were actually listening to me.” Her brows furrowed. “Okay. Well I’ll leave you to it.” She brushed past him without another word. However, she was stopped by a tug - it was barely even felt - on the back of her cloak. She turned to him, waiting.

Confusion flickered in his eyes. Even he didn’t seem to know why he stopped her. “...I apologize. Never mind.”

Her head tilted to one side. “I was thinking of going to my spot to read. I’ll see you.” Again turning on her heels, she walked off. --------- Kiran sat under her tree with a new book in her lap. She had finished the previous book rather quickly. A part of her had the goal to finish all the books the library had to offer. It wasn’t a likely goal, but she couldn’t resist the challenge. Even Alfonse hadn’t read all the books as of yet. A chilly breeze swept by, but she made no move to acknowledge the new guest.

Líf hovered a few feet away, unsure of what to do. Kiran flipped the page and continued reading. Finally he took a seat under the tree next to her. Staring up at the canopy of leaves, the sun made patterns through them. Minutes passed by as she kept reading and the swordsman observed the leaves.

Eventually Kiran dogeared her place and closed the book. “You know what I love about Askr?” He didn’t answer, but she hadn’t expected him to. “Nature here is untouched by pollution. Where I come from there isn’t much nature around. I can’t even see the stars at night.”

“It sounds very different,” he mumbled.

She leaned her head against the tree trunk. “It is. But where I come from has its perks too. Like modern technology. And my family and friends…” Kiran’s thoughts wandered to her family. She hadn’t thought of them as of late. Yet, when she did she felt a mix of emotions. Some good, some bad.

“...do you miss them?” he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Yes and no. I miss certain things about my family and friends. Yet there are some things I don’t miss. Maybe that makes me sound ungrateful, but it’s the truth.” She closed her eyes.

She heard him breath deeply. “I miss them. If only I was the one…”

“Perhaps if things had been different, this Askr would have been the one to fall while yours survived. Perhaps if I hadn’t been summoned, I would be home.” A bird let out a cry somewhere. “We can spend the rest of our lives speculating what could have been. Or we can focus on the now.”

“You make it sound easy,” his voice darkened “I have to live with my choices. The choices that killed everyone. If you hadn’t won, I would have had them all back!” He was suddenly hovering over her. His breathing was heavy and she could feel the weight of his stare.

Opening her eyes, Kiran held his gaze without fear. “You’re right. You do have to live with your choices. We all do. You think your the only one who has regrets? Ask any of the people summoned here, and I’ll bet they all have their own skeletons.” She sat up so her nose barely brushed against his own. “It’s how we decide to live after those choices that define us. You can wallow in self pity, but nothing will change. Or you can live on like Sharena would have wanted.”

“You don’t know what she would want!” he hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I know my Sharena, and if she is anything like your own, then you know what I say is true. She would want you to live and never blame yourself for what happened. You can move on, but it doesn’t mean you have to forget.” Kiran touched his jaw with her hand; his mask was cool to the touch. “If she knew you were punishing yourself for what happened, I know she would be heartbroken.”

He jerked away from her touch as if she had burned him. Standing he stalked off without looking back. Kiran watched as he disappeared behind the trees. She let out a deep sigh, and leaned back into the tree trunk. Closing her eyes, she sent a small wish to whoever was listening. The bitterness in Líf’s heart weighed him down. He had a lot of burdens to sort through, but she hoped he knew she would help in any way.

---------

“Eliwood, take down the pegasus knight.” The redhead did as he was told and quickly cut down the enemy with slash of his lance. Now that the sword was out, she had more room to deal with the others. She did a quick sweep of the battlefield trying to figure out the best way to get everyone around.

Alfonse was busy taking care of an axe knight while Sharena had just finished off a blue mage. She frowned when she realized that the ninja from before was missing. Turning around, she didn’t spot them. Swallowing nervously, she wondered if the enemy had managed to slip through their defense or was taken down by a different soldier.

“Alright, let’s move on.” Eliwood gave a nod, and started off ahead of her on his horse. She hustled through the forest. A rustling sound off to the side made her pause. A rabbit hopped out of the bushes, sniffed the air, and continued on.

“Just a bunny…” She let out a sigh. Suddenly a cold chin went down her spine as a breeze brushed her cheek. Turning around she saw the enemy ninja jump at her, daggers raised to strike. Eyes wide she could only stare in horror as the blades came down.

Metal screeched on metal as her vision was blocked by a furry black cloak. Líf blocked the attack and pushed the ninja back. Before they could react, he slashed through them with his sword. The sword glowed a menacing purple as it connected. A streak of purple light flew from the sword and hit Kiran in the stomach.

She went staggering back as a gash appeared where the light had hit. Blood seeped into her tunic. Slipping to the ground, she grasped the front of her shirt. The light had hurt as if she had been struck with the sword herself. Gloved hands tried to cover the wound, but the blood just stained her gloves.

The fallen prince sheathed his sword and turned to her. His eyes widened a fraction when he saw the blood. He knelt beside her. He almost reached out for her hand.

“Kiran!” Alfonse bushes through the bushes and runs to her. Líf stands and stepped away as his other self knelt beside her. “Are you okay? We need to get you a healer!”

Leaning against Alfonse’s shoulder, they slowly stand. “I-I’m fine, Al. Just a little cut.” She tries to smile but winced instead.

“You’re bleeding! How did this happen?!” His gaze immediately meets the red ones of his counterpart. “What did you do.”

“Saved her life,” Líf retorted. He ignores the uncomfortable feeling in his gut. “Unfortunately she was in the way of the recoil damage from Sökkvabekkr.”

Alfonse glared at him but Kiran stopped him from saying anything else. “Come on, Alfonse. Let’s go see Sakura.”

Without another word, she limps away. Líf watched them. His hands curled into fists when his younger self had looked at him. The loathing and anger in his eyes was very clear. Following them at a slower pace, his eyes followed the trail of blood Kiran left in the grass.

The wound was healed quickly without a problem, and Kiran was cleared to leave. Though Alfonse wanted her to stay in the infirmary, she had managed to convince him to let her go. They went to the dining hall to eat.

“Be more careful, Kiran.” His brows were drawn together and a frown was firm on his mouth. “We can’t afford to lose you.”

“I’ll try to be more aware of my surroundings. Anyways it didn’t even scar.” She took a bite of her meal. “I’m not going anywhere for a long time, Al.”

He sighed. “I just worry about you. You’re like family and I don’t know what we would do if anything happened to you.”

She grinned. “Thanks! You guys are like family to me too. I promise I’ll try not to get myself killed.” She spared a broccoli. “He didn’t mean to hurt me, and he did save me from getting skewered. Just stop giving him your murder look.”

“My what?” He coughed as some of his drink dribbled down his chin.

“Murder look. You get this very intense look that says “I’m gonna murder you” whenever you’re super angry.” She pointed at his face with a wide grin.

Sitting up straighter, Alfonse cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmmm.” The rest of dinner went without much fuss. 

Kiran took an extra plate of food. Navigating her way through the castle, she came to Líf’s room. She knocked on the door. “Líf? It’s Kiran.” There wasn’t a sound. She went to knock on the door once more, but she realized it was open ajar. “I’m coming in.”

Stepping inside, she spotted him standing near the window. His sword rested on a chair and she noted his gauntlets on the bed. His back was to her as she quietly shut the door. “I brought dinner since you didn’t come.” She set the plate down on the table near the fireplace.

Rocking on the back of her heels, she waited. When he didn’t respond, she spoke again. “Sakura cleared me for battle. So everything is fine.” Again he said nothing. “Alright. Well, I’m heading our. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She turned to leave. “Why?” Stopping she looked at him. His back still to her, she saw that he was watching her through the reflection from the window. “Why are you being so nice to me? I hurt you.”

“But you didn’t hurt me. I was hit by the recoil from your sword.” She frowned. “It’s not like you meant to do that. Plus you saved me from that ninja.”

“I know what Sökkvabekkr is capable of. Yet I still attacked while you were near. I didn’t care if you got hurt.” He was glaring at his own reflection.

“Well,” she chewed on her lower lip “the fact that you’re acknowledging it means you feel some remorse. You’re not as bad as a person as you think.”

Moving away from the window, he stalked over to her. “Did you forget that I tried to kill everyone to bring back my own people not too long ago?”

Tilting her head back, she sees more than just coldness in his eyes. “I haven’t. But your past doesn’t mean you can’t change.”

He closed his eyes. “You’re too optimistic. You won’t always be able to look at the positive side of things. What will you do then?”

Without thought Kiran took his hand. It was cool compared to her own; his eyes snapped open. “When that day comes, I’ll try my best not to forget myself. If I have my friends by my side, I can face it head on. It sounds cheesy but that’s how I feel.”

He gazed at their hands. Without her gloves, Kiran’s hand is warm and slightly calloused. He was so focused on their linked hands that he seemed to forget Kiran. His hand is large and she can feel the roughness of them. His hold is gentle, almost like he might hurt her if he tightens just a bit. She ran her thumb over his knuckles.

A cool hand touched her chin. His eyes were focused on her face. The pads of his finger trace the contours of her jaw. His hand tilted her face up, and she stared into his eyes. In the light from the candles, those ruby red eyes shined. His gaze was observing her face for something. She held still, afraid any movement might scare him away.

Finally he released his hold on her chin and moved away. Her hand fell limply by her side. “I would like to turn in for the night.”

It was her cue to leave. Kiran swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “Right. Well...goodnight.” She quietly left his room. Hand against her chest, her heart fluttered a little. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she walked down the empty corridor to her room.

[ghostmartyr]

(1/2)Erm, I saw your thoughts on the most recent EMA discussion, and while I agree that he cares for them and is agressively pushing them away and breaking the EMA BOND, I believe that some of the stuff he brought up were relevant. It's weird that Armin suddenly began visiting Annie that he wasn't particularly close to after receiving Berth's memories, and while pushing for negociations is something I can see Armin doing, he's been unusually passive on some stuff, and the way he snapped at eren

           (2/2)reminded me of the exact way Bert snapped at Armin in the end of S2. A Titan Shifter’s memories influence is no joke, as seen with the SnK and the founder, and I’ve seen too many blogs dismissing that at “Eren is being bitchy” and leaving it at that. Also, while I don’t believe everything Eren said about the Ackerman. Also, Levi entertains the thoughts of Eren being eaten, get a headache, and the headache stop when he dismiss the thought and swith the focus on Zeke being eaten instead.             

I agree a little bit on the Ackerman points. No matter where the story goes, I think it would be a waste not to explore Eren wondering if what Zeke’s told him is the truth. Depending on where his head’s at, being presented with the idea that a member of his family is never given a choice in how she feels about him is a pretty destructive bomb.

Whatever else is going on, Eren angsting over Mikasa and the impact he’s had on her life? Come on. This arc’s gone full fanfic already. Go for it.

I’m guilty of missing the possibility that Levi’s headache at the situation was due to thinking about killing Eren instead of just finding the situation headache-inducing. That’s one of the hills I won’t exactly die on, but I have a very strong preference for the Ackerpains being based in trauma. Because I’m an optimistic, hopeful person who believes in fluff and rainbows.

…If that turns out to be wrong, well. Sorry about your life, Mikasa.

The Titan Shifter memories are something I feel like we’ve really only seen at play with Eren, and at this point he has three separate Titans–the Founding Titan being explicitly pervasive about it as a plot point.

Reiner and Bertolt never bring up their predecessors, and Gabi’s understanding is fueled by her love for her cousin. Porco, with his family connection, should be the best example of the most that can be expected from standard Shifter memory transfer, and he only has bits and pieces.

Eren starts drowning in his father once he reads the journals, but my impression was that it’s a unique trip that mixes the bloodline connection with the Founding Titan. That read could easily be wrong, but that’s how I understood it.

Armin going to Annie actually makes a lot of sense to me as just a piece of Armin, and I guess I’m going to go babbling about that enough to earn a cut.

…Hi, it’s 2013 again, have some Female Titan Arc feels.

-one hour later- Good fuck why isn’t this its own post.

He and Annie are seventy chapters old by now, but she spares his life twice, both after he doesn’t say anything about her having Marco’s gear.

In that scene, he says, about the girl who keeps her distance and tries not to get attached, that she’s actually pretty nice.

Then they talk, before her brawl with Eren starts. He’s playing her, but when she asks him if she looks like a good person, the conflict is real. He knows what she is by then. He doesn’t want it to be real, but he knows. He knows she’s murdered countless of their comrades, and maybe helped take out the walls.

But he doesn’t say he believes in bad people. He says he doesn’t believe in good people. He makes it about perspective, knowing that he doesn’t have Annie’s at all, and feeling that gap, but knowing even more that bridging it can’t be important when she’s an active threat.

Bad or good in general isn’t the point.

“That would make you a bad person to me.”

Armin doesn’t say Annie’s the one who has Marco’s gear. He doesn’t want to believe it, and he wants to think that maybe, this time, his smarts let him down, because otherwise that means the girl he just realized is a nice person might be a traitor.

People die because he doesn’t speak up.

He isn’t one of them.

They both screw up.

They both are good people to each other in those moments, and it’s the last thing either of them should be doing.

Even once the shouting has started over Annie getting in the tunnel, Armin is still saying they can talk. He doesn’t have Bertolt in him then; all he has is his own heart, and he doesn’t want to fight, he wants to know why.

When Annie asks him why he doesn’t say anything about Marco’s gear, Armin has his answer, and it kills him, but he knows exactly why. Annie, in comparison, is lost. She’s killed loads of people, so she should have some room to understand what makes it different, but all she can tell him is that she wonders about it too.

Then she’s locked up in her crystal, and Armin finds his answers in Reiner and Bertolt. In Marley’s history. In the world’s history.

It isn’t a surprising thing that Armin goes to Annie.

She doesn’t want to be a titan either. She doesn’t see any way out of her role. She’s trapped, and all her only bit of freedom does is bring that trap out of her mind and turn it physical.

Annie is the link to the outside world that Armin and the rest of Paradis don’t have, unless you count Kiyomi. She’s their enemy, but not because she hates them. Not because she’s a bad person. Not because they can’t understand each other.

She can’t talk back, but I don’t think Armin identifies with any character in the series more.

She’s the odd one out of her trio. Her own mistake of having a heart makes her their prisoner. She’s smart, and sees all the angles of their fucked up, rotten world.

They’re both Titans.

In the more current world, she’s another person who saved him instead of moving her people’s plan forward.

Armin loves his friends so much he tries to die for them, and instead of paying him back by honoring that, they refuse to let him go and let humanity’s greatest commander die.

There’s something about that simple wrongness. It’s the kind of wrong that can only be born from a nice person. Someone who can’t drop what they should, because it’s too precious.

It’s not supposed to be, and Armin tries to live a life where it’s not, but his best friend… his best friend can’t even consider that sort of life.

Until he razes the internment camp.

Armin might not agree philosophically with Eren’s choice to save his life, but he loves Eren, and the part of Eren that loves him back so much it maybe breaks the world–that part might be gone now.

So he goes to talk to Annie.

Who’s frozen in a time when the Warrior sent in for blood couldn’t bring herself to kill a friend.

That’s a much nicer world.

Like, I’ll cop to the story having more to do when it comes to memories and Ackerman stuff, but Armin talking to Annie? That is the most Armin thing he could possibly be doing.

…Thanks for the asks.

Sorry for ah. derailing them a tad.

[namjoonsteeth]

HONEY - (Bangtan Boys mini series)

A/N: not fully edited yet

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Smut; enemies to lovers

Word Count: 7.6k

Joon always reminded me of honey, smooth and wet. From the way he spoke to the way he moved. 

Even as we both trade abrasive words in class, rallying back and forth as we try to make known our top tier positions academically. Namjoon is far smarter than me. This much I know. The guy is an actual genius with which that could not be argued with. He corrected professors, he pointed out contradictions in course material, and more often than not he made his disdain for me known whenever I went up against him. I picked fights with him. It was clear to everyone. He’d say one thing, and I made it my sole purpose to side with the opposite. It was petty and completely unnecessary; I’m sure our professors found our sparring to be a waste of time on most days. 

“Which is why the statement “Shakespeare is overrated” is neither accurate nor is it valid, Y/n. Not only has he contributed many words to the modern English language, its undeniable that he has changed the way authors and playwrights tell stories,” he ends his ten minute rant by shooting me one last look of distaste.

I irritate him. I’m mostly ok with that considering that any attention from him is good attention. He’d reminded me of honey, and the only time I could get his eyes on me was when we were fighting. I’d relished in the times that he’d narrow his dark brown eyes on me, his full lips going a mile a minute as he’d battled my made up opinions. He talked slowly but quick all at once. He’d take long beats of time to formulate his attacks before spewing them out without even a breath in between. If I was anyone else, If I didn’t love every bit of attention he’d given me, maybe he would’ve broken me semesters ago. 

“One day you’re going to make him snap,” Seokjin smiles while we walk from European literature. 

Namjoon  left before us, knowing that his friend would walk me to my next class after we grab something to eat. I think it further irritated him that I found a way to be friends with all of his roommates. He’d refused to both join a fraternity as well as leave his friends alone to fend for themselves. He’s the most responsible one out of all seven boys, even managing to keep the older ones in line too. That’s just how Joon is, he’s in control of most things in his life. 

“That’s the plan,” I smile brightly up at him. 

“Why are you such a brat, Y/N-,” Seokjin winces immediately after speaking as a hand slaps the back of his neck. The younger boy joins us naturally, a sweet wide smile on his face while he teases his friend. He shakes his dark hair out of his face before tucking his hands into the deep pockets of of his oversized black hoodie. 

“Hey, Jeon Jungkook, I’m older than you, you know?” Seokjin says knowing that it’ll start a fight. I sigh waiting for the inevitable; JK hits Seokjin, Jin reminds him that he’s five years older than him and demands respect, JK pretends like none of that matter, chaos ensues until another boy shows up to break it up.

“And you still don’t know how the talk politely to women,” JK clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

I watch the two of them bicker back and forth, trading neck slaps and dodging each other on the crowded sidewalk. I watch as the other students get out of the way of their playing, not batting an eyelash as JK dramatically rolls on the ground to dodge Seokjin’s attack. 

The Bangtan boys have always been a spectacle. In the beginning they were foreign exchange students who seemed to be good at everything all at once. They were all so close that everyone thought that they were real brothers, no one really bothered to correct them because for all intents and purposes, they are. Seokjin quickly became the lead of Thespian Club, Yoongi an irreplaceable shooting guard on the school’s basketball team, JK and Tae have founded a whole gaming club as well as being members of the men’s choir, and Jimin is student body president as well as the co leader of the dance team with Hoseok who is also a member of the diversity board. As for Namjoon, there isn’t enough time to list all of his accolades. 

He’s a genius. Not even speaking in terms of comparability to the other students at the university. Namjoon is a genius compared to the world. With an IQ of 148 he surpassed me easily. I think that’s why I liked to mess with him so much. I know that I can never beat him academically. We both know, but I think it annoyed him that I wouldn’t stop trying. 

We finally get to the sandwich restaurant on campus. We spot Jimin and Taehyung easily. All the Bangtan boys have a draw to them. Invisible halos that draws the eye the minute they enter a room. They could be doing the most mundane thing in the world, like sitting at a restaurant with their noses buried in One Piece, and they’ve got the whole room’s attention. Jimin with his high cheekbones that cause the apples of his cheeks to puff up when he smiles and silver hair, Tae with his angular features that no doubt belong on a runway. It’s hard not to look at them, What’s worse is that all seven boys hold the same charm. Gazes move from the two young boys in the center of the lunch room toward the two boys who are still fighting playfully as we make our way to our friends.

“Y/N, are you coming over tonight?” Jimin asks, while leaning forward to see me past Tae. 

I shake my head as I pull out my buzzing cellphone. It’s Hoseok, telling us that he’s buying us all burgers and if we want something else it’s a little too late. The boys all ignore the text, fine with anything as always. Yoongi tells us that he’s skipping lunch to go work on some music before his game tonight. I see Namjoon’s floating icon pop up, showing that he’s read the message. It’s been weeks since he’d had lunch with us. Usually he’s able to ignore me and focus solely on the boys. Out of the blue he’d started going to the library during the first break in his schedule.

“I rather not sit through passive aggressive Namjoon finding different ways to express his hate for me without being too obvious,”

Hope brings sets two trays full of food in the middle of the booth table we’re all sitting at. His hair is back to black meaning that he’s either changed the girl he’s sleeping with this week or his preferred dance style. He’s entirely too predictable and he’s fine with it. He catches my eye as he slides into the booth beside me and passes JK a drink.

“Oh, he 100% hates you,” he says seriously. “Hey, Jeon Jungkook, I only got you one burger. Don’t eat too fast,”

JK smiles around his already full mouth. He sips at his drink to wash his food down so he can speak. “It’s ok. Jin Hyung will get the next round,”

“What do I look like to you, huh?” Seokjin points across the table at JK who laughs at having riled up the oldest again. “I spend so much money on you, neglecting the other maknaes all in the name of putting food in front of you,”

“Maybe if you weren’t old you wouldn’t have to bare the responsibilities that come with being the eldest,”

“Hey, Jeon Jungkook!” 

The rest of the boys ignore them as they get into another round of bickering. It escalates when Jin reaches out for a neck slice which JK dodges easily. Hope rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone. 

“Hyung, doesn’t hate you,” Tae says not looking up from the graphic novel in his hands. He opens his lips wide as Jimin shoves a French fry into his mouth. 

He flicks his strawberry pink bangs out of his face and focuses on his story. That’s how Tae is. Either he’s completely absorbed in our conversation or he’s only giving us half of his attention. He’s almost done with his book, so I expect by tonight he’ll be the center of chaos with JK. 

It’s not that I actually think Namjoon dislikes me. He wouldn’t let me get to him so much if there isn’t just a hint of fond there. At least, I hope so. I hope there’s a part of him that likes going at it with me as much as I do. Still, sometimes it feels like he’d give anything to get me to shut up. Or maybe it’s that he wants to be the one to do so. Again, I hope so. God, I really want him to. 

It isn’t news that Namjoon is attractive. Whatever trait you’re into, he has it. He’s incredibly intelligent, able to outsmart just about anyone on campus. He’s physically attractive, slightly tan skin, tall, large just about everywhere. He’s funny when he’s with his friends, protective, sensitive, and just about anything else you could think of. God, I sound like I’m in love with the guy. If I’m honest, maybe I am a little. Maybe that’s the point of all of this.

“This is dangerous territory,” Hope warns looking a up form his one and at his friend who don’t seem to have a problem with spilling all of Namjoon’s secrets. His warning seems serious but he speaks around a large bite of the burger in his hands. There’s sauce on his cheek, JK reaches out to wipe his jaw quickly before going back to his own meal. 

“I think he wants to sleep with you,” Jimin proclaims before wincing as Hope and Seokjin hit either side of his shoulders at the same time. “Hey, why should I lie?”

“Where’s your loyalty, Jimin,” Hope asks frowning at him. 

Jimin shrugs. 

“With whoever is in the room I guess. And I’m not betraying Joonie Hyung. I’m taking the steps he’s too prideful to take,”

It would be funny if I wasn’t too focused on how all five boys look to be hiding something. It’s not fair for me to exploit Jimin’s weak ties, right? I’m going to do it anyway. As smart as Namjoon is, he’s not necessarily right about everything. I can’t imagine I’ve done something so bad for him to avoid me so much that he’d sacrifice spending time with his friends. 

“Which are,” I prod. 

JK covers Jimin’s mouth to keep him from speaking. If there’s anyone loyal to Namjoon it’s going to be the youngest. He’s shown a reverence for the other boy plenty of time, even refusing to take my side on most occasions. I can’t expect him to tell me what’s going on without a little work. 

“JK,” I say pushing my lips out in a pout. 

He’s young, not quite accustomed to the charms of women. Though he knows he’s incredibly attractive, he’s not quite sure how to act around girls yet. His cheeks turn red as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Like a deer in headlights, he looks a little innocent and a lot startled. 

“Don’t fall for it, Kookie,” Hope warns again. 

I roll my eyes and try again, blocking Hoseok’s strict expression with my hand on his face. He makes an obnoxious noise of anguish before quieting down. Satisfied, I remove my hand and let him eat in peace. Tae continues to ignore us, Seokjin watches in silence as Jimin’s eyes light up in mischief. 

“You know I like your hyung, JK. It’s not like I’ll use anything you tell me against him,”

That’s only half true. I’m going to get Kim Namjoon to admit to liking me even if it’s just a little bit. That’s my mission.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but Mon Hyung would kill me-,” JK curses as Jimin bites his hand that’s still slapped down on his mouth. He shakes the sting off as Jimin shakes free of his hold.

“You made out with him at a party last Summer and he thinks you’re purposely ignoring it,” Jimin rushes out quickly.

More curses, this time from Seokjin, Hope, and JK. Tae smiles to himself but only flips the page of his book, completely unbothered and only slightly entertained. I knew I can count on one of the younger boys. I make a note to address JK’s misplaced alliance later. 

“I kissed Namjoon?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I would call it more foreplay than a ‘kiss’, if I’m honest. It was at one of our house parties and I honestly felt like I was watching a very well shot, very realistic dirty movie,”

I look at Seokjin who only shrugs. “It was intense,”

“We didn’t-,”

Hope shakes his head. “You passed out before anything could happen. Namjoon took you up to JK’s room and that was it,”

“Last summer?” I ask, still trying to piece it all together. 

The memory doesn’t even seem remotely familiar. I’d passed out in the bangtan house more than once, crashed in JK’s room even more times than I can remember considering he has an aversion to his own bed. This could have happened at anytime.

“Either you’re repressing the memory or you actually don’t remember,” Hope says while going back to stuffing his face. 

“Why am I only finding out now?” I frown. “I’ve been asking you guys what I’d done wrong for a year and a half now,”

“Namjoon Hyung is scary when he wants to be. We all promised we wouldn’t say anything. Jimin, whatever he does to you, you deserve it,” Tae contributes while closing his book. 

I agree, the recent turn of events are more interesting than anything else. I’ve been friends with these boys for just over three years now. I’m without a doubt the closest friend outside of the seven of them that they have. They’re my best friends, all of them; even Namjoon if he would stop acting like a dickhead all of the time. 

Jimin shrugs and has the nerve to look smug. “I’m his favorite. He won’t care,”

He’s  right. Jimin won’t get in trouble for spilling Joon’s secrets. 

I eventually agree to go over tonight. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Yoongi with how busy he’s been with practice and working on music. Still, it’s Namjoon that my heartbeat doubles for. I haven’t spent anytime with him outside of class in a while. Granted usually our time is spent sitting on opposite ends of the couch and shooting each other passive aggressive jabs. Still, I miss him.

Ironically, its Joon that opens the door when I get to their shared house. I’d decided to confront him about the whole “kiss” from last summer, still not completely believing the boys. I can’t imagine touching Namjoon at all and being able to forget about it. I needed an upper hand with him, though. I may annoy him most of the time with my picking and what not, but there’s still a part of him, even if solely on the physical level, that is attracted to me. I use that small fact to my advantage.

“You’re here,” he says. 

It’s hard not to respond to him. I feel my body heat as he looks down at me. He speaks slowly like he’s not in a rush to let me in; typical. His body stays in the door way, blocking me from entering. We play this game every time I come over. His arms cross over his chest like he has no plans of letting me in anytime soon. As always, I look forward to it. We aren’t in class now, he’s free to let me have any insult he wants. 

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t observant, Kim Namjoon,” I smile up at him.

He looks at my attire, the dusty pink dress stops right at the top of my thighs showing more skin than not. I watch his eyes rake over my body before he frowns at me again, a ‘W’ shaped line in the middle of his forehead. His jaw ticks once before pushing out just a bit. 

“Did you have a date?” He’s obviously only pretending to care. I can tell by the sarcastic way his eye brow raises. 

I raise my eyebrow back at him, unable to stop a smirk. “You care?”

“Does it matter?” he challenges, grating my nerves. Sighing, he smiles while giving me a scathing look. “Besides, it couldn’t have ended well if you’re here begging for attention as always”

“From who exactly,” I ask while crossing my arms over my chest. I don’t miss how his eyes flick down to my chest. His gaze lingers longer than he’s ever allowed himself to. 

“It’s whom,” he corrects. “From whom is the proper-,”

“You don’t ever shut up, do you?” I interrupt becoming irritated. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is us. It’s dysfunctional and very stupid, but its how we’ve done things for the majority of the time that I’ve known him. 

“Namjoon, we both know that you don’t like me enough to care what I do,”

“Stop telling people I don’t like you,” he frowns as if he’s just remembering something. “And stop grilling Jimin for information,” 

He turns, leaving the door open, finally letting me in. 

“The guys aren’t here,” he calls over his shoulder. 

I follow him to the kitchen where our friends usually gather. He’s right, no one is home. This kind of seems like a set up. Just a little.

“Yoongi hyung has a game, Seokjin hyung and JK are there. Jimin and Tae are seeing a movie and Hope left an hour ago,”

Very convenient. I’m in the middle of sending a heated text message to the group chat about leaving me alone with Namjoon after telling me about you kiss last summer. Unfortunately for me, Namjoon is the type to talk about everything. Even if he’s not particularly fond of me, I can sense a discussion on the horizon. At least if the boys were here I’d have a bit of backup. This feels like an ambush with nowhere to run.

He hands me a bottle of water as he pulls one out for himself as well. I take a seat on a stool at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. Namjoon leans against the refrigerator, his eyes on me as he takes a sip of water. His eyes never leave mine and its pretty hard for me to look anywhere else beside the deep dimples around his mouth that appears as he gulps down water. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his upper lip 

I can’t remember the last time I’d been left alone with Joon. It was never awkward between us, but I was definitely closer to any one of the other guys than him. But he was also the only one of the Bangtan boys that I was ever attracted to. He just wasn’t approachable in that way, though He was always doing his own thing, always studying, tutoring, working on music. It wasn’t standoffish, he was just busy. Then it became that he’d rather do anything other than spend any amount of time with me.

The more I think about it, it was last year that we’d started losing patience with each other. As irritating as he is sometimes, I still like him. I really like him. His peach colored hair is starting to grown out just a bit already, darkening at his roots. He’s wearing his glasses, so either he was studying or working on something. Whichever it was, he looks incredibly domesticated in his t-shirt and sweatpants. I look at his feet to see his favorite character on his slippers. Its cute. The hidden parts of Namjoon that he hides away from everyone else but has no problem showing the other boys. I find it endearing. 

“So are you going to stay until they get home or what?” He breaks me out of my thoughts of him.

“We’re friends right Joon?” I ask without really meaning to.

I’ve been thinking of our strained relationship all day,  not really able to focus on anything else. Because at the end of the day, I want to be friends with Namjoon. If nothing else, we could get back to how things were when they first showed up. 

“We used to be able to at least hold a conversation without jumping down each other’s throats,”

“Friends?” He raises an eye brow at me before taking a few steps forward, and leans against the counter, taking me by surprise. 

Namjoon doesn’t have an ordinary face. I can’t explain it. He’s rough, hard angled , but he’s also soft. I know if I would reach out he’d feel the same way against my finger tips.

“You do everything you can to piss me off, and you want to be friends?”

I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off of his mouth when he’s this close. 

“I want you to remind me about last summer, actually,”

He draws back slightly, looking almost..embarrassed. God, he really does think I’m purposely ignoring the supposed kiss. I thought I was being immature by purposely getting under his skin sometimes, but this is beyond childish. Unless he thinks that I actually regret it. Can’t regret anything you don’t remember Namjoon. 

“I don’t remember the kiss, Joon,” I tell him quietly.

He rolls his eyes and draws back further. His chin juts out; a sign that he’s agitated. I’m getting on his nerves again, not in the banter-like way, more that he’s ten seconds away from throwing me outside. 

“That’s supposed to be better?” He frowns while crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Because it isn’t, by the way. That was just a rhetorical question,”

Smart ass.

“Which one hurts your feeling more, Namjoon,” I can’t but sound bitter. He’s being mean. He’s always mean, but now it feels like he’s purposely trying to hurt my feelings. I’m done pretending like I don’t care how we treat each other. 

“The option that you think it matters to me either way,” he snaps at me. His eyes narrow at the counter between us. 

“You’re lying,” I counter. 

“Why, because I don’t care that you were too drunk to remember that you kissed me? It’s irrelevant,” He looks back up at me and his eyes are dark. I like it. I like it entirely too much. 

“And you’re so sure that I kissed you first?” I scoff, walking around the counter to stand in front of him. I can feel heat rolling off of his body like he’s putting in extra effort to control himself. If only he knew that its the very opposite of what I want him to do. 

“Yes, because I wasn’t blacked out,”

“I’m going to do it again then,” I take a step so that my toes line up with his slippers.  

“What-,”

I press my lips against his softly, forcing myself to take in every detail about how his mouth feels against mine. His lips are cold from the water he’d been drinking, his tongue is too. He taste sweet. Honey. All of him reminds me of Honey. Sweet, slow moving, packing more flavor than first expected. His hands move up my hips, drawing up the fabric of my dress. When his hand touches my thigh, it electricity right to my most sensitive nerve endings.

I want him. All of him. I’m sober and tired of pretending that our back and forth exchanges are enough. I press my body tighter against his, shaping every curve to his body. I expected him to push me away by now, but he holds me closer, hands moving all over me. At some points he seems hesitant, he pulls back, his eyes moving over my face as if he’s checking that I’m still here with him.

I’m here, and as good as he feels, his mouth isn’t enough. I don’t think it ever was. I’ve envisioned Joon’s body against mine more times than I can count. It’s the little doses of his skin that he’d show on occasions that started it. Glimpses of the tan skin of his neck as he scratched at his collarbone in glass, the pull of his lip between his teeth when he was thinking hard about something, his large hands and long fingers; they were all puzzle pieces of a whole that made me want every part of him touching me. 

“Touch me,” I whisper against his mouth. 

He lets me drag his hand up the side of his thigh. He takes the hint, fingers inching up my dress until he traces the waistband of my underwear. He’s so close, all he has to do is go a bit further, but he stops.

“They guys could walk in,” he says, pulling away fully. 

Now that I have him this close, I’m not going to make it easy for him to let me go. I’m here for one thing. Namjoon. 

“Well then lets go to your room,” I grab his hand and lead him out of the kitchen and toward the hallway that leads to the room he shares with Taehyung. 

“Why so suddenly?” He tugs at my hand, stopping me from entering his room. 

“Huh,” I look back at him.

I don’t really know how to answer his question. The only difference between today and yesterday is knowing that our first kiss happened already. Still, that hadn’t really made much of a difference. I’m emboldened by the sheer fact that he wants me at all.

“All this time and now you want to fuck,”

“Does it matter?” I shrug, hoping that for once he can just let it go.

He does. He nods for me to push the door, letting us both into his room. As expected of Tae, it’s a mess. Unexpected of Namjoon, his side is also a mess too. Wires and equipment take up most of his desk, piles of clothing on the computer chair in front. For someone so uptight in every other aspect, his room is the complete opposite. Not to say that I’m attracted to unkempt men, but it’s a little reassuring for some reason.

He pushes my back against his wooden door interrupting my scan of his room. His mouth trailing down from the corner of my mouth down to my neck. As if he can’t stand to be away from my lips for long, he kisses my mouth again, his tongue forcing its way between my lips. His large hands smooth over my bare thighs roughly. He touches me like he’s annoyed with himself, like he’s mad that he wants me in this way. I love it because I’ve known all this time. 

One hand reaches up to lightly cup my throat, his hand is so big that his thumb can reach the hair that sticks to my lip gloss. He brushes it away with his finger as he looks down at me. He looks partially surprised that we’ve ended up like this. I want to remind him that that theres a thin line between fucking and fighting, but he’d only scoff and tell me to stop stealing corny lines from Jin. 

“Are you going to keep touching me or is this it?” I ask him, trying my best to drag a breath into my lungs. 

He rolls his eyes and presses his lips against mine to shut me up. I close my eyes, trying to commit the feel of his lips to memory. Things like this are volatile. There’s no way of knowing just how much Joon will give me tonight let alone if I’ll ever get to have him touch like this again. His bottom lip works with his teeth to bite at my sore mouth. He feels dirty, and uneven, like he’s not even trying to make this neat like everything else in his life. Just like his room, his intimacy style reveals who he truly is. The truth beneath Namjoon, he’s a mess, he’s sort of a freak, and he’s making everything up as he goes. There’s a certain charm to how well he’s gotten at getting everyone to believe that he knows exactly whats going on, when in reality he’s just as clueless as the rest of us. 

“And If I tell you that I want you to leave?” He breathes heavily, only leaving the smallest space between our lips. 

“You’d be lying,” I tell him while I reach up to brush his sweaty bangs off of his forehead. “But if you’d asked me to leave, I would go,”

I lean back, putting more space between us. I’ll give him one formal chance to change his mind, one chance to act like this never happened, because once I get permission to stay, he’ll have to try really hard to keep this dress from hitting his floor. I tilt my head as I size him up one last time. There’s still a possibility that he’d put an end to this. I’m measuring my odds. Going by the press of his dick between my legs from beneath his sweat pants, I know that physically he wants me. That could only go so far. I don’t think I’ll survive a come to senses moment in the middle of all of this. 

“Joon,” I call running my hand down the front of his t-shirt. “Make up your mind. Either put me out or take my clothes off,”

He looks frustrated. I can tell its mostly at himself. That doesn’t make me feel any better. I want to be in his bed, only if he wants me in his bed. Of course it would be easy to settle for a one time hate fuck, but he doesn’t hate me. At least, I don’t think he does. I’m really hoping he doesn’t. 

He grips my fingers right as they curl around his waistband. He takes a full step back, causing my feet to land fully on the floor. I don’t like this at all. I want to go back to having his mouth on me. I watch as he takes a seat on the edge of his bed. His hands scrub over the top of his scalp, running through the peach colored locks. Am I stressing him out? Am I having an effect? I hope to god I am. For the sake of my insistent need to have him, I hope that how much he wants me is driving him crazy. 

He leans back on his elbows and I see the switch. His eyes trace over my body. I can almost feel them seeking out bare skin above anything else. His gaze is so potent that I feel goosebumps rise to my skin only from him watching me. 

“Take your panties off, Y/N,” 

His voice has become even deeper. It seems almost impossible but he sounds gruff, the arrogance from earlier is gone leaving me with only a matched need to have him inside me sooner rather than later. 

As always, I don’t do as he says. I like our games. I like when he looks at me like I’ve hit every nerve possible. I like the attention. Only this time there’s no classroom. There’s no professor to break up the tension, no students to make snide remarks about how we’re destined to butt heads. It’s just Namjoon and I this time, and the feel of his shag carpet between my toes as I make my way over toward him. He’d told me to take my underwear off, but I do the opposite when I stop in front of him. I grab the edge of my dress in my hands before pulling it up over my head. I watch his eyes follow the material as it drops to his floor. 

“If you go back now, you’ll never live it down, Joon,” I straddle his lap, planting my knees on either side of him on the mattress. “No matter how much you beat me in the class room, if you don’t fuck me tonight, I win,”

He reaches up with two hands to cup my jaw. When he kisses me this time, it’s almost too soft to believe. He’s too gentle, too immersive. As much as I want this, I wanted to keep my head, but right now everything feels a little incoherent. Nothing makes sense. The fact that I’m even here with him doesn’t make sense. But its Namjoon, and I’ve spent the better part of the last two and a half years wondering if his lips taste as good as they look. I’m finding that they don’t; they’re better. 

His hands go to the back of my bra, undoing the latches before dropping it down to the floor with my dress. He pulls back, looking at my chest like he’s mesmerized. I didn’t realize just how much I’d wanted his eyes on me like this. The high I got from sparring with him in class is nothing compared to the way his eyes smooth over my chest, his tongue flicks over his bottom lip so quickly that if I hadn’t been staring at his mouth, I would have missed it. 

I don’t know what it is about having his unwavering attention, to have him one hundred percent focused on me. Something about his gaze on me makes me want to make sure it doesn’t stray. I guess this is my chance to cement his eyes on me. If tonight is all I get, then its my mission to make it so memorable that he’d have to actively work to forget me. 

I move first, leaving the warmth of his lap and crawling behind him into the middle of his mattress. I kneel behind him, running my hands across his broad shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. I get to do this. For so long, I’ve imagined it. I’d spent hours in class wondering what it would like to touch him like this, and to have him touch me. His honey colored skin rises in goosebumps as I kiss him, moving pass the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m going to take your clothes off now,” I say quietly. 

He nods and lets me pull his t-shirt off. His shoulders are so broad, its hard to resist running my hands across his shoulder blades. My fingers trace over the beauty spots that dot along his collar bones. I want more time. I want to see all of him, to explain every inch of his tan skin. But I’m also a little impatient. 

I reach in front of him, slipping my hand passed the waistband of his sweats. He’s not wearing underwear, that much was clear from the minute he answered the door. Now, feeling him, running my hand over his silky soft skin. It’s a sin. For him to be so…perfect. It isn’t fair to me or anyone else he has gotten to feel him. 

“Is this ok?” I ask him.

“You’re asking for permission to touch my dick while you’re touching my dick?” He says like he still finds me incredibly exasperating. “You wouldn’t be in my bed if it wasn’t ok, Y/N,”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. How can he be annoying even now. Still, it does nothing to the way I need him. Feeling him has only made it worse. I won’t lie, the banter turns me on too. I don’t think it would be the same if Joon was too soft. It wouldn’t be him. 

“Stand,” I command. 

“Why?” 

“Just do what I say for once,” I frown when he looks back at me, still refusing to move. His defiance might kill this before we can even get started. I sit back. With his eyes on me, I pull my simple cotton underwear and throw it with the rest of my clothing. I cock my eyebrow as he watches my movements, seemingly shocked.  

“I’ll be here whenever you’re ready, Namjoon,”

“Where’s the thing?” He gestures awkwardly with his hands. 

God, he’s so weird. Still, I can’t help but think he’s perfect. His passive aggressive jabs and awkwardness may be his only flaws but I don’t think I’d want him any other way. I hand him the condom that I threw on the bed and wait impatiently. He finally stands and pulls his bottoms off, his hand going down to cover himself as he climbs above me. Even with the coverage of his hand, its not hard to see just how big he is. Its not like I’ve ever doubted, but seeing it up close it definitely more satisfying than I could have ever hoped. 

His lips touch mine again, as he opens the foil package and pulls the latex out. He has it on quickly, wasting no time lining himself up with me. His hands smooth over my thighs and pulls them around his hips as he pushes forward. My hands squeeze at his hands, trying to get a grip on something. He hasn’t moved yet and already I’m a bit delirious. Maybe it’s because I can’t remember the last time a person looked at me like they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but right with me. Maybe it’s because I’m gathering that Kim Namjoon is really, totally, completely my type. 

“Why can’t I stop kissing you?” He frowns to himself before kissing me for the hundredth time tonight. 

“You like me,” I manage to tease while still getting used to how good he feels. I don’t think I’m ready for him to move yet. He’s already too much, and I refuse to give in the satisfaction of making me come so quick. Not when I’ve waited so long for this. 

His hips snap against mine, immediately forcing me to drop my smile as my lips part. He builds a slow steady rhythm. It’s too slow, too languid, like he’s willing to make this last as long as it takes to drive me out of my mind. His kisses become messy, as his own lips part, a low moan of air brushing against my mouth. His hips still move almost painfully sluggish, like a drag. 

Like honey.

I throw my head back into his pillow as he reaches between us to touch me softly. He’s too much at one. His large body covers mine completely, his awkwardly long legs tangling with mine. While he holds himself up on his elbow above me, his lips never leave my skin. I’ve never doubted Namjoon to have a side like this, I just thought that it would never be for me to see. Right now kind of feels like a necessity that I do. I need to feel his hips pull at mine. I need to feel his thick lips take mine roughly. I need to have him. Even if I only get tonight, I know that whatever happens later it’ll be worth it. 

“You were wrong about Shakespeare,” he says suddenly. His hips snap against mine like he’s punctuating the statement and handing the pulpit over to me. 

It’s such a ridiculous statement to make at this exact moment that I have no clue what to say. I’m stuck between forcing him off of me just so I can tell him how wrong he is about Shakespeare as well as let him know how completely absurd it is to bring it up mid-thrust. But, it’s Namjoon. I sort of expect nothing less than ludicrous musings at the least opportune times.

So I take the bait. 

“Shakespeare is trite and he isn’t even the best satirical playwright and yet we a society celebrate him as such-, Fuck Joon,” I breath out as the rhythm of his hips pick up slightly. 

“Who’s the best satirical playwright in your opinion,” his breathing picks up as we both start to sweat.

Our bodies are slick, moving together smoothly as we both chase after the rising feeling in our stomachs. He’s bringing me higher with each push/pull of his hips all while having a ridiculous conversation about playwrights and satire; which if we’re honest we couldn’t care less about. There’s just no other way to be for us.

I pull away from his lips that move against mine again, missing the taste of his tongue the moment he disappears from my mouth. I try to answer his question but it only comes out in a sigh as he hitches my thigh high on his hip. His fingers press tightly into skin as I close my eyes.

“Are you relenting?” I hear the smug tone in his voice. “Have I finally shut you up?”

I shake my head. Even now, I refuse to give it to him so easily; especially when I know it’s exactly what he wants. “No, I’m just in awe you’re finally asking for my opinion on something,”

“So, who then?”

“You’re incorrigible,”

“You’re deflecting,” he tells me.

“Moliere,” I say. “Moliere is the greatest satirical playwright of all time. Shakespeare wishes he could touch Tartuffe with anything he ever wrote,”

“There would be no Moliere without Shakespeare,” Namjoon counters. “And besides Shakespeare is a dramatist, satire was a hobby and even then Moliere barely measures up,”

He’s sort of right, but as always I’m not going to admit it. I counter attack by tightening around him. Moving his heavy hand aside, I take over touching myself as he continues to move against me. As expected, I’m quicker to bring myself over the edge than he is. He pauses as I come around him, unable to handle both sensations at once. 

He curses lowly but its an illegible mix of English and Korean that I can’t begin to piece together. His face presses into my neck, as he presses his hips against mine and withdraws quickly. His rhythm is a little stuttered as he chases after his own orgasm. The competitor in me wants to win. There’s no definition of winning and losing during sex, but with Joon and I, everything is a game. Especially this. I use all my weight to roll us to the side, straddling his hips  before he can protest. His large hands hover above my hips, not quite touching my skin. His plump lips form an ‘O’ as I lower myself back on him. 

“Was this necessary-,” he moans louder than either of us expects, sighing as I rock my hips above him.

You’re so easy, Namjoon. 

I press my chest against his, taking a turn to kiss him dumb like he’d done me for the last hour. Two hands move up my back and tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck. He pulls roughly as my hips start to pick up the pace, set on making him come for me. It’s all I really want. 

“Y/n,” he breathes quietly.

I pull back, moving his hands back to my hips, urging him to use my body to make him feel good. I watch as his eyes close and his head presses deep into his pillow. His lips part slightly as and he holds me tight. He’s so close. I want to kiss him again but he looks too good. I can tell when he’s about to come as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough that his pink skin turns white. 

“Let go, Joon,”

For once, he listens. His hips meet mine as he comes finally, his breaths coming out fast like he’s trying to refill his lungs. Unable to resist anymore, I lean forward and press my lips against his. He kisses me back roughly, wrapping his arms around my back to hold my body against his. I roll off of him, tired as well. As nice as it would be to spend the rest of the night in his bed, I can’t.

As if I wish them into existence, I hear the front door open and the sound of rowdy boys. I freeze, instinctually pulling the sheet off the floor and over my chest. Namjoon doesn’t seem worried. Slowly he moves my hair out of my face and kisses my temple before sitting up and swinging his legs out of bed. 

“I’ll keep them distracted. Come out when you’re ready,” 

I nod as he disposes of the used condom in the bathroom. When he comes back, he pulls the sweats up over his hips again before leaving me alone in his bed with too many questions. Is he going to tell them? Should we? I don’t have much time to think. I’m not sure exactly how many boys are back but I rather none of them find me in Joon’s bed; naked. 

I run my fingers over my lips as I gather my clothing off the floor. He’s still on my mouth, I can feel him. I can’t get the taste of him out of my head. I can’t get any of him out of my head. I should’ve thought this through. I’m addicted now. I need more of him; more slow kisses, more of his hips dragging against mine. More honey. 

[catsundercherryblossoms]

|Ch. 11: More Than Meets The Eye| Her Forgotten Past //Attack on Titan fan fiction//

If I had a dime for every time these people asked me, 'Why are you here?'. Well, let's just say I'd be able to afford living in the King's palace.

Ah, here comes another one.

"So... it's pretty clear why Eren's here. The poor thing..." A girl with ginger hair said to me. We rode our horses side by side. "I don't mean to sound rude, but I'm kind of clueless as to why you're here? Sorry. Please don't think I'm—"

"No, it's fine." I said, plastering on a smile for her sake. Introductions were the last thing I felt like doing. But I had no other choice. Why? Well, it seems Corporal Levi told his whole squad about Eren, but completely left me out of the picture. And I have a feeling it's not a matter of forgetfulness. But be that as it may, I will try to be on good terms with his squad, even if the Corporal himself has something against me.

What a jerk... I thought, sneaking a glare as he rode ahead, leading the way.

I went back to answering her question. "I'm here because I have no citizenship. It was as much of a surprise to me as it was to others, let me tell you." I said with a dry chuckle. I then nodded towards the Corporal half-heartedly. "But Humanity's Strongest over here saved the day. Now I'm under custody of the Survey Corps..."

"Wow, Corporal Levi made that happen?" The ginger said. A professional type of admiration shone in her eyes. I could tell she'd been serving in his squad for years now. Actually, all four of Squad Levi's members were very tight-knit. I don't know precisely how to explain it, but maybe it was the glimmer in their eyes whenever they spoke to each other. Familiarity... warmth... like they'd known each other since the beginning of time.

"Its a surprise to hear that. I don't know if you've noticed, but... he's not the charming kind of person. You'll be lucky to even get a handshake on the first meeting. But for him to step in and make such a decision for a complete stranger like you..." she looked at me with child-like curiosity. "I wonder what he sees in you."

Ha. No offense to this girl, I think she's sweet and all, but I'm not taking this bullcrap.

"Yeah, romanticize it all you want. He thinks I might be from outside the walls, which in his eyes makes me a threat. Or... I think that's what he thinks. To be honest, I sometimes wonder if it's all a cover-up." I squinted and stared at the back of Corporal Levi's head from a distance, thoughtful. "Why not gather every single person without citizenship and put them under the Survey Corps' custody? You know, since he's so generous..."

"Hm, you're right. It doesn't add up." She said and smiled cheekily. "Oh! I love mysteries like this! How about we get to the bottom of this together, hm? You seem like a nice, honest person. Let's be friends! Plus, it's great to finally have another girl around." She said. The sincerity in her honey-brown eyes was impossible to refuse. "So, what's your name?"

"Johanna Archer. And you?" I said and shook her hand.

"Petra Ral." She said with a beam.

"We're here." Corporal Levi announced, his voice sucking the joy out of the atmosphere like always.

The trees cleared to reveal a beautiful estate with tower-like structures. A castle, maybe? Moss covered the walls and vines creeped up the front door, a sign that nature had claimed this place already. I even saw a few spiders clustered on the overhanging of the balcony.

That's going to be a problem.

I shuddered and dismounted my horse.

"When was this place last inhabited?" I asked, busy taking in the sight. 

"Beats me. It's probably older than all of us put together." A voice I knew all too well said.

Eren, of course.

As we lead our horses into the stables, I finally took a good look at his face. I didn't get the chance to check on him during the journey since he maintained himself always at the front, on behalf of Corporal Levi's orders. The results of spending day after day in a cell could be seen in his complexion. Although I must admit, he looked better now that he had soaked up the sun. So I guess that's progress.

And yet... an underlying stress and thinness pulled his features down. Sure, he could try all he wanted to mask it with a smile. Maybe it worked on the members of Squad Levi. But it didn't work on me.

"Um... is there something in my teeth?" Eren asked.

I hadn't realized I was staring that long. Idiot. "No, nothing." I pried my gaze away and shut the gate to the stall. Eren gave his horse a farewell pat on the muzzle and followed behind me. "It's just... You should eat something." I said, trying to sound casual.

Eren's face was one of surprise. But that surprise quickly turned to slyness and he smirked. "Unbelievable... Is the cold, no-nonsense Johanna actually worried about me? Me?" He then finished with a fake gasp.

I swear, I could just smack him sometimes... but I couldn't help the smile forming on my face. "Don't let it get to your head." I snapped, quickening my pace. I didn't have to look back to know he was smiling warmly. Soon we were walking at the same pace again, this time closer, our arms almost brushing together.

Okay, why was I focusing on that? I never focus on dumb little details like those.

What he said came back to me in rippling thoughts.

"You don't think I'm... cold. Do you?" I asked. Keep it casual, keep it casual... not that I really care what he thinks.

"Well, at the beginning of training, yes. You're not the best at first impressions." Under the sun, his eyes glinted like emeralds. "Heh... I start to hurt just remembering that time we sparred together. You really made it personal."

I half-smiled. Fifteen year-old Johanna was a real sociopath...

"But I've gotten to know you better... and I realize now that there's more than meets the eye." He said. The summer heat tinged his cheeks red. Or at least, I assumed it was the heat.

I snuck one more glance at him, but quickly broke the connection between his eyes and my own, choosing to smile down at my feet. Weird... a foreign feeling coursed through me. God knows I've never felt like this before. All warm, stupid, and... fuzzy.

"Oi! You two. What the hell took you brats so long?"

Corporal Levi stood at the front of the castle, it's doors wide open behind him with some of the cobwebs cleared away. He held a broom in one hand and a mop in the other. His usually passive face was now stiff with irritation. Geez... doesn't he know stress causes wrinkles?

I pointed a thumb over my shoulder. "We were at the stables—"

"I don't want excuses or explanations, rookie."

I blinked in confusion. "But you asked—"

"Enough. Not only will you mop the second floor, but you will also scrub the windows as punishment for smart-talking your superior." He said severely, and he tossed us our cleaning tools. I caught the broom and Eren caught the mop. He turned away sharply, walking back inside the castle. "Get to it."

* * *

"He's the devil, Eren, I'm telling you." I dipped the sponge into the soap bucket, practically punching the water.

Eren chuckled at my violent cleaning style. He shook his head lightly and continued mopping the same floor for the fourth time. "I'm pretty sure that's offensive to the devil."

As mad as I was, his comment made me smile.

We were on the third level of the castle, in a decent sized room with plenty of sunlight, cleaning the freaking life out of every corner and crevice. See the thing is, this room is the one Corporal Levi chose to be his personal office. And of course... he gave the job of cleaning it to the rookies. Lucky us, eh? I mean, I get it. This will soon be his personal area where he'll keep all of his shit and probably sleep in. But still... I don't think I've ever met someone so damn meticulous. Every time we reported our job-well-done he would come back and find a speck of dust or dirt in the tiniest of spaces. He'd scold us and order us to clean the whole room from top to bottom... All. Over. Again.

This is the seventh time I've cleaned these windows. I'm starting to lose hope. We'll probably never live up to his impossible standards.

"But seriously..." Eren said, now mopping the space right behind me. "You don't actually hate the Corporal, do you?"

"Its getting to that point." I climbed up the ladder, my legs tired from going up and down just to soak the sponge. I scrubbed the windows angrily. Any harder and I would break the glass. "I mean, I understand why you glorify him. Mikasa told me you've been invested in the Survey Corps since you were a kid. He's your idol. But don't you think—"

"Hm, nice view."

I broke my train of thought and looked out the window, raising a brow. "What are you talking about? It's just grass and trees..."

Wait a minute.

I looked down and saw what he was actually staring at.

My ass.

"Eren!" I exclaimed, swatting him away with the sponge. He laughed. It was easy for him to avoid my hits, since I was so up high and he had the advantage of being below. Droplets fell from the sponge and landed on him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He said, trying to calm his laughter. He went back to mopping, keeping his eyes glued to the floorboards this time.

The nerve... I tried to reduce the blush on my face by focusing on the windows again. But my thoughts betrayed me. Nice view, huh? Did he really— Wait— no! Stop it, Johanna...

"Anyways, you were saying?"

"What? Oh." I snapped out of it. Corporal Levi's face popped into my mind and I returned to being petty. I huffed and continued scrubbing. "Its just... I signed up to kill titans. Not to become some damn housewife... That basta- aAAH!!"

A spider was suddenly in my face, dangling from the ceiling by its silky string. I lurched back and lost my footing. The ladder— the object which my life depended on— was replaced by air. I shut my eyes and braced myself for the incoming floor.

Something caught me mid-fall. Arms? I gave a little yelp, clinging to this so-called knight-in-shining-armor.

Wait... the only person in this room besides me is...

I opened my eyes and was met with Eren's surprised green ones. His face was inches away from mine, holding me bridal-style. Well... this is awkward...

His usual confidence was thwarted. For a moment his cheeks reddened, and he struggled to find something to say. As did I.

Please just end this. Whatever life force or god of the universe is watching over us, just end it. Please.

My prayers were answered. But not in the best way.

"What the hell are you brats doing?"

Eren whipped around and gasped. "C-Corporal!"

He dropped me and I hit the floor with a painful thump. Ouch. I scowled up at him and denied his helping hand, getting up myself.

Corporal Levi stood at the doorway, unimpressed. "Tch. No frick-fracking in my office. I won't tolerate hormonal behavior from teenagers like you. Now get the hell out. We're having lunch outside."

He turned and left, muttering more stuff under his breath.

Eren sighed as we headed out. He took one last look at the spider and then turned to me. "You, a top-ten soldier, slay Titans three times your size and you're scared of that?"

I folded my arms in embarrassment. "Sh-shut up!"

* * *

I wonder how my friends are doing... I picked at my food, no appetite whatsoever. Okay, I hate to admit it... but my chest ached the moment I realized I wouldn't see Jean, or Annie, or Reiner or Bertholdt again. Those four were set on the MPs. The second they graduate that's where they'll be running to. I couldn't blame them either. After everything they endured in the battle of Trost, any normal person would want to seek a safe haven.

Maybe I'm not normal. Maybe I'm crazy. Somewhere in the heat of battle maybe I bumped my head too hard and now I can't think straight. I don't regret my decision to join the Survey Corps. Not yet, anyways. But it sure isn't what it's all cut out to be.

Damn... who knew I'd grow so attached to those four idiots? I thought of Jean's snide comments, Annie's take-no-shit attitude, Reiner's brotherly charisma and Bertholdt's sheepishness, and I smiled a little. It was a sickening, barely-there watery smile. But a smile nonetheless.

All it took was one look and Eren knew what I was thinking. "Yeah, I miss them too." He sighed.

I raised my eyebrows. "Even Jean?"

"I know, right? I can barely believe it myself. Kill me."

We both laughed. It wasn't the hug your stomach and double-over kind of laugh, but it was reminiscent laughter. And laughter felt good in times like these.

Then came the wince.

I looked down at Eren's heavily bandaged hands and frowned. He had tried to get ahold of his tea mug. But that wasn't happening anytime soon.

"Still not healing, huh?" I said.

He shook his head. I could imagine the frustration he must be feeling.

Earlier this evening, when Corporal Levi pulled us out of cleaning to have lunch with the squad, Hanji thought it would be convenient to do an experiment. She wanted to see Eren's Titan form and observe how it works. Long story short, they stuck Eren at the bottom of a well and distanced themselves a couple feet. They gave him the signal to transform and anticipated the big boom.

But nothing happened.

When they peered down the well, they found Eren in the exact same spot at the bottom, both hands bitten raw. His futile attempts had given no results.

I didn't feel disappointed, unlike others. The Levi Squad tried to mask their shattered high hopes, but that's exactly the thing. They at least masked it with a smile and a 'Don't beat yourself up'. That shows compassion.

But Corporal Levi... that was a different story.

'Here comes trouble...' I thought, as the devil himself approached our table.

He sipped his tea in one hand, his gaze as emotionless as ever. "What's the progress?"

Eren pursed his lips and looked down at his hands. He did not respond, but he didn't need to. The Corporal could read him like a book.

"Are you seriously telling me... that those bites on your hand aren't healing?" He questioned. I could already sense his patience running thin.

But wow, I admired Eren's unwavering respect. "No, sir." He said courtly.

"No offense, but you're not much use to us in this form." His voice cut sharper than a knife. "If you can't Titan-shift, you can forget about saving Wall Maria. Pull it together. And yes, that is an order."

He turned to leave.

"He's trying his best, you know." The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

The muscles in his back tensed. He turned around slowly and faced me like he hadn't noticed my presence until now. His expression hardened. "I don't remember asking for your input, rookie."

"Archer." I corrected him fearlessly. "And it's the truth! I don't see you turning into a Titan effortlessly. Not that it would be very tall anyway..." I finished the last part under my breath.

He still heard it. Actually, both of them did.

Eren's eyes widened like I had just ventured into dangerous territory. He laughed but covered it up with a fake cough.

"Did you just...." Corporal Levi, on the other hand, was honestly appalled. Had no one stood up to him before? Was I the first? He placed a hand on the table and leaned menacingly towards my face. "Jaeger was right. You do have a problem with authority."

I heard Eren gulp.

Corporal Levi backed off. He adjusted his cravat. "I guess we'll have to work on that. Archer, you just earned a whole month of stable maintenance. Have fun cleaning horse shit." With that, he turned and left.

Is he serious? A whole month? A flood of curse words were eager to leave my mouth, but I held it in.

"If it helps, I thought the joke was funny." I heard Eren say.

My eyes were glued to the Corporal's retreating figure, but I wasn't exactly seeing. It was more like a limbo. Out of nowhere, I felt a migraine coming on. Wait... didn't this happen... on the wall... right before Trost was breached? The world around me drowned out. My vision blackened.

What the hell was happening? In my mind's eye, an image flashed before me: a man... why was he so blurry? I couldn't distinguish who it was. He knelt down to my level. I was small and when I reached out to take the knife he offered me, my hands were little and dainty. Much too little to be holding such a perilous weapon. "Use this if they get to you..." the man spoke, "those guys with the green horse on their jackets? They might be police, but they don't have good intentions for people like us, Johanna. People like us... we need to fight to survive. Now, give Daddy a hug. Auntie Isa will watch over you while I'm out getting food..."

As quick as it started, it ended. I blinked and suddenly I was back outside, sitting at the lunch table.

"Johanna!"

"What?!" I jumped, looking at Eren.

His face was one of utter confusion. "Well, don't look at me like that! I've been trying to get your attention! Seriously, are you okay? You looked like you were in a trance..."

"What are you talking about?" I blinked. I raised a hand to massage my forehead. My head hurt, and I had no clue why. Also, was I dreaming? What was it about? I could hardly remember now.

I accidentally knocked down my spoon. It landed closest to Eren's foot.

He bent down. "Here, I'll get it."

"No, it's okay. I got—"

BOOM!

An explosion of heat. I hit the ground hard on my back. For a good thirty seconds I was disoriented, my head hurting worse now from the bad landing.

But when I opened my eyes...

What I registered was this: Eren, the upper half of Eren's Titan body, and Squad Levi surrounding the scene with their blades drawn.

"Shit! Wait! Don't kill him!" I yelled. In a flash I was up on my feet and running. I jumped between Eren's Titan and the squad, holding my hands up as an open gesture of harmlessness.

"Get out of the way, girlie! Or we'll take you down as well!" Oluo barked at me.

"Eren! What the hell is your problem? No one gave you permission to transform!" Erd said furiously.

Eren was on top of his Titan's neck, trying to pull his arm free of the muscle. He struggled to explain himself, overwhelmed by their sudden turn of alliance. And I couldn't blame him. Didn't they trust him? Or was this how they really felt?

I bet they were faking their friendliness since the start... I thought.

"Stand down!" I told them as they got closer with their blades.

"Who do you think you are? I'll teach you a lesson as soon as I'm done with him!" Günther growled.

I was surprised to hear a voice next to me. "Calm down."

When I looked to the side, Corporal Levi was standing there, a hand raised to warn them off. And he was... agreeing with me?

"The situation is complicated. Now, calm down."

But they continued protesting.

"Are you trying to kill us all?"

"Eren, you better explain yourself!"

"Forget it! Explanations are useless." Günther said as he approached the Titan. "You better persuade me that you're not hostile before I slice you to pieces!"

"So much as twitch that arm and I'll lob your head off! I can end you in a heartbeat, do you hear me boy?" Oluo bared his teeth.

"Oluo, how many times do I have to say it? Calm down." Corporal Levi snapped.

"Corporal, step aside! You're too close!" Petra said.

He couldn't care less. "Right now I think it's you guys who need to step away."

She looked baffled. "Why on Earth—"

"A gut feeling." He cut her off.

By now, everyone was screaming and it was hard to tell who was saying what. But Eren had enough.

"QUIET! ALL OF YOU BE QUIET!" He bellowed.

Silence. Tension filled the air. I watched the squad calculatingly. Two things could happen right now: Either they make peace and hear him out... or they go ahead and kill him on the spot.

"EEEERREEEEEEEEEENNNN!"

Apparently it's neither of those.

Hanji came running at the speed of light. She pushed the squad members out of the way and screamed so fanatically that I could barely understand what she was saying.

"Iwannatouchthearm! Eren, I wanna touch the arrrmm!" She drooled at the sight of Eren's Titan arm the way Sasha drools at the sight of food. "Pretty pleaaasseee, with sugar on top! LEMME TOUCH THIS GLORIOUS LIMB!"

"Who let out the lunatic?" I glared at the soldiers who came with her. They had the decency to look ashamed.

"Wait!" Eren told her worriedly. "I don't think that's a good idea!"

But did she listen? Of course not. She reverently placed her small hands on the Titan's huge red one.

"Ow! Son of a BITCH!" She gasped and removed her hands immediately, falling to her knees with a gleeful look on her face. "That hunk of muscle is hot when there's no skin! This is the best day in the history of science! Ahahaha!" She cackled.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Okay, valid question. Is anyone in this regiment sane?"

"How are you not burning?" Hanji asked Eren excitedly. "Why aren't you out? Is your arm fused to the neck? Oh, you have to show me! I really wanna see!"

"Eren." I cued him.

He gave his arm one last tug and it popped out. He rolled off the Titan and fell to the floor, panting.

"What? Wait, no! That was too fast— I still wanted to investigate some more!"

We all blocked out Hanji. Although, if I'm honest, I think her rash intervention was exactly what the squad needed to make them hesitate. I sighed and looked up at the periwinkle sky. Things would only get more complicated from here on out..

A clean freak, a Titan worshipper, and a guy that likes to sniff people. And that's only the ones I've met.

Who knew the Survey Corps would be full of weirdos?

End of Chapter 11