#and he was frustrated with buck for ruining previous showings

[sadgayeddie]

"Los Angeles was actually the job opportunity. Uh, but no ties here. Everything that matters is in Texas."

[buckevantommy]

https://www.tumblr.com/buckevantommy/757878657756872704/btw-i-dont-think-we-need-to-worry-about-buck-and

Agree 100%. But, to further expand that, and going outside the world of the show.

From a GA perspective, or the audience full stop, how many partners are we willing to watch before we lose interest? By this I mean - if the writers are spending screen time / several episodes introducing a new character and a new relationship, usually we get invested. And when that person disappears, it can be frustrating, and the introduction of a new person (thus the start of the cycle again), can feel a bit tiring. Every time they need to find something that makes the audience go: okay, it’s worth for me to care about this character.

Buck’s case is a bit particular, because his relationships haven’t been all that well received (until now). Either it was an ‘okay’ situation, without much interest, or an okay reception but controversial at times (for me, Taylor - I do think the GA was okay with her, but ultimately the couple was not good). Tommy has been imo the first relationship that truly has brought in lots of positive and good reviews and a good investment of attention from fans and even GA. Tommy’s clips in any social media are usually the ones with most views, and in things like IG it goes to talk about the GA more than a focused fandom.

This to say - if Buck was to break up with Tommy, I think a lot of the audience would be frustrated or even grow bored of the constant change of partners. Even, they would be less receptive to a future new partner, because if Tommy (so well received) is gone, who would even stay?

Not to say this means Tommy is Buck’s endgame, because no one knows. But at some point the constant change of partners gets old, and we know Tim agrees when he expressed wanting to get Buck off the hamster wheel (something Oliver agreed on), and Tommy is a really strong character to have Buck settle with.

Long story short: not only from a SL perspective, but Bucktommy being long lasting makes sense for the overall image of the show.

You're absolutely right nonny.

bc if we think about bucktommy in terms of it being Buck's relationship aka. a main character's relationship, enough is enough on dragging him from illfit to illfit - that guy deserves to be settled, at ease in himself, as Bobby once told him, and we've already seen Tommy help make that happen for him.

and if we look back at Buck's relationship history: we're 7 years into poor matches for a guy who has always wanted to love and be loved - and Tommy can be that for him! he has been that for him so far and could so easily fit into the narrative as Buck's significant other moving forward indefinitely. Tommy already feels like the missing piece to Buck's story the same way Karen was for Hen and Maddie was for Chim and Athena was for Bobby - and he's a fleshed out character in his own right just as those partners are.

enough screwing around with Buck's relationships. sometimes it feels like just bc he started out as a fuckboy he somehow doesn't deserve a stable, healthy, loving relationship, like the narrative is going out of its way to ruin any chance he has at that for the sake of drama (but again: none of his previous partners were the right match for him).

i'm going to mention dear dean winchester again bc he has so much in common with Buck, and these kinds of characters (male, strong, macho, attractive, swagger, charming, sexually active, presumably bisexual) always cycle through relationships that never pan out - bc they're not the right fit, but moreover bc these partners seem written in just to be eventually written out, there to help the main character's plot along, aid in some personal growth and add drama, maybe attract more viewership for those interested in seeing more (temporary) female characters.

but it is.. *sigh* tiresome, indeed. let Buck have a stable partner - like Hen, and Chim, and Bobby do - and let their relationship be woven into the narrative to create a richer tapestry like those other pairings do. that is so much more satisfying in terms of storytelling and character growth, than trying to insert drama snags that threaten to unravel things. you can still have drama with committed pairings - every other committed pairing in the show is proof of that.

and if we take off the shipper googles: Tommy is good as Buck's partner, he makes sense, and he has great potential in the longrun both as Buck's boyfriend/husband and as his own character within the wider narrative of the show. he's a natural fit, but he's also entertaining and he has history with most of the main characters already.

i really do see Tommy as Buck's endgame btw, bc they work so well together as a pairing but also as independant characters. BUT i wouldn't be mad about them breaking up/taking a break (as i mentioned in that post: uncertainty about having kids; a potential permanent job position out of state) and then come back together stronger for it. we saw it happen with Henren (but i don't want to see cheating with our boys bc it doesn't fit who they are) so we know if they do breakup it doesn't have to be permanent - and i actually would love the mirror to Buck's first serious relationship where Abby leaves him - only Tommy comes back to him.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded!  Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum. 

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead. 

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…” 

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading​, @thatsdarwinism​, @satellitespidey​

[kookiessugababy]

Another Reason To Hate You (Kim Namjoon) // 18+ nsfw!!

Warnings 🚨- aggressive sex// no protection//edging//teasing//slut shaming kink

-> scenario: you have never gotten along with Namjoon, despite your close relationship with his band. With the boys apartment under refurbishment, you find them staying at your own place- where things become steamy between you and your foe in the shower room.

Hope you enjoy <3

*****************************************************

The previous night was sleepless, the muggy and warm nights creeping upon your Seoul apartment. Despite the discomfort it caused, you had spent the restless night watching movies with the boys; who you could currently now hear blasting music in the next room. They were stammering along loudly to Min Yoongis rap lyrics, Hoseoks voice yelling above them in blatant confidence - the others mixing up all the words in a cacophony of mutters. The seven were crashing at your apartment for a unchartered days with theirs under refurbishment and under the decision of not seeing you for a while, they invited themselves to reside. Nothing in you had a problem with this- you thoroughly loved their lively company and after all they were your closest friends. However, it did mean spending more time with Namjoon than you could handle- the one member who you had a questionable relationship with. Something about him had always frustrated you, the pair of you never flourished in the way you had with the rest. It was different at first; both of you trying to make the effort to amend your obvious differences after Jin introduced you to the band- but now it was left to settle in disinterest. Avoidance was key for both parties; snappy unpleasantness arising every time you engaged…so to the point he was barely an acquaintance to you. With no full understanding why you loathed him with the power you did, you always found yourself paradoxically attracted to him. There was something about acknowledging a mutual abhorrence for someone that makes them more desirable- more hungry for their attention. Alongside this tearing self conflict, you had a constant profusion of work to complete for your boss, alacritous deadlines prolonging your daily shifts. Almost making the company unbearable, relentless hours meant the boys made you stay up most of the evening to reconcile with them- and with the summer months glowing, sleep was rare anyway.

Wrapping yourself in a cream towel, your damp hair fell to your shoulders as you scanned yourself in the face of the mirror. Water droplets cascaded lines on your cheeks, eyelashes catching those stray from your forehead. Your skin looked soft and touchable in the white glow of the light- accenting your expression. With the silence shattering, the door creaked under the sound of knocks from the other side- shuffling echoing from under the small gap of the hinges. “Jin? Is that you?” You assumed- the only member who had a tendency to bother you at such inconvenient time- but you were met with silence as the seconds passed. Before you could question the sound again, the door flung open; presenting a rather flustered tall figure with muscular arms and broad shoulders. His hair was pushed back and neat, a small t shirt revealing his collar bones and comfortable lounging shorts fitting his toned thighs perfectly. Despite a familiar sense of hatred wash over you, you found yourself startled at the sudden entrance of Namjoon- your slightly exposed body causing your nerves to fire.

He stared at you in the heat of the room, the steam rising between the two of you as it entangled with the strange tension. ”Namjoon… what are you doing” you asked nonchalantly. Remaining silent you huffed, slamming your hairbrush onto the bench. “Get out” you snapped- but his reply concluded unhelpful as he suddenly pushed you to the shower wall, pinning your arms roughly to the wet tiles as the towel fell from your grip. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m sick of your bratty attitude.” Under his stare, you stood naked and exposed to him- your nipples hardening as he searched your curves in such an unexpected manner. You felt the need for obedience under his power- all sense of anger towards him washed with this new sense of frustration that mirrored lust you were sure you had felt for him before. “I hate you, y/n. You make me so fucking mad” he growled, his mouth close to yours. He tugs your lips with his teeth, nipping your bottom lip to cause a slight pain. Wincing at the sensation, you felt his hands grow tighter around your wrist- pushing his hips towards you to prove his hardened state. “Then get out if you hate me that much mm?” You teased- his anger obvious in his eyes. Intertwined with this, however, you sensed a blanket of lust wash over him- his intentions almost becoming obvious to you. “How do you not expect me to ruin you when I know your pretty ass is naked in the room next door? Mmm?” humming he pecks the sides of your neck, leading you to arch your back under the tingling marks he leaves behind. Snaking his arms down yours, which remain raised against the wall, his large palms make their way down to your breasts, fondling with them in a way nobody had before. He made you feel innocent with his dirty smirks, the frustration he felt towards you obviously preparing to be channelled in a way that would leave you breathless. You moaned slightly as he pinched your nipples, twisting them slightly in his fingers as he continued to kiss along your collarbones- teasing his tongue along them as he glanced up at you. You felt your heat grow wet as you gritted your teeth, avoiding contentment of knowing he was pleasuring you- but your desperation only grew with your confinement.

Evidently picking up on your behaviour, his fingers now snakes to your clit- slapping it harshly as you bucked your hips in return. “What a little slut mmm? Getting wet for someone you can’t even bare a conversation with. You must be desperate”. Degrading you only soaked your core as his fingers ran circles around your clit- chasing the feeling of your pussy as he pushed sped up to a painful pace. Stifled groans spilled from you; still in an attempt to silence yourself. Seeing your struggling state gave him permission to dig his fingers deep inside of your hole with a sudden movement- your body jolting under his forceful fingering. Only two fingers made it into your tight hole, moving rapidly between your thighs as your breath hitched. His stare was familiar, the way he looked at you in near disgust was showing- making you feel exposed and submissive to his annoyance with you. “You deserve to have that little pussy of yours throbbing y/n. How dare you get me hard like this.” His breathe easy just as unsteady as your own as he paced his fingers in and out, your juices dripping down his digits with every pulse. You couldn’t mutter a reply as you found yourself riding his hand in desperation- feeling so small under his touch and power.

Closing your eyes you felt his fingers leave you- the warm steam hitting your hole as he edged you from your high. Whining quietly, just in earshot of him he uttered a small laugh of success as he undid his pants. “Turn around, y/n. I’ll teach you how to be good for me” he sounded strain as he spoke, his dick now spilling with precum- yup swollen and sensitive. Spinning around on your heels you faced the tiles- your chest pressing against them as he lined himself up with your pussy. Rubbing his warm cock on your heat, he separated your lips with his tip- running himself up and down where you needed him most. “Namjoon i- need you” you finally cried, pushing back your hips as he adjusted his grip to your waist- thrusting into you with one sudden movement. The pace was unimaginable- your breasts clapping against the wall as his balls hit you again and again- the harshness of each movement sending you into a moaning mess. You could barely think straight as you could only focus on the throbbing of his cock inside of your tight hole- hitting spots you didn’t know existed with his length. He filled you up so well as he pounded you, his head tilted back as your ass slapped against him. Your heat was soaked with the feelings of frustration being taken out upon your bent body- your stomach turning at the simple thought of the man behind you. As your walls clenched yet again, you let out a cry while your stomach flipped to its side. Unable to hold yourself for longer, tears streamed from your eyes as your mouth fell open at the repetition of his tip hitting your g spot.

“C-cum!” You cried- desperate for a release of some sort. Despite you feeling Namjoons dick twitch inside of you, his warmth already spilling- he parted the friction from your walls as he pulled himself out. The absence was unbearable as he came all over your back- holding his cock with one hand as your ass now dripped with his stain. Cursing to himself he inspected your arched back- your ass sticking out and coated in his mess and you whined and cried pathetically as he edged you yet again. Gently, his hands ran to your ass, cupping the cheeks as he leaned over you- kissing your cheek softly. “You poor thing. Stop pretending you hate me and I’ll let you cum next time.” His voice almost sounded sinister, chuckling in your ear as he placed a few more welcomed kisses on your cheeks. “God Namjoon you gave me another reason to hate you”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[bakugousbussy]

Plus Ultra

BakuDeku w/ Lee! Deku & Ler! Bakugou

Summary: Ever since being enrolled in U.A. Midoriya won’t quit saying “Plus Ultra!” Whether it would be meaningful like when he was giving a pep talk, or stupid like when he was trying to open a jar of pickles. And Bakugou was getting annoyed.

-

It started off as a beautiful day. The sun was slowly starting to peak out from behind the horizon, birds chirping a sweet tune, dew resting on the grass.

Bakugou opened his eyes, it was 630AM, he sat up and took a deep gulp of air. Enjoying the morning’s peace and quiet, sighing happily at the scene. Nothing could ruin his day.

Around 730AM, everyone else started to awake and emerge from their dorm rooms and into the common area. Small talk, morning greetings, and the smell of breakfast filled the air.

“Can you pass me the ketchup please?” Uraraka turned to ask Midoriya, while pointing at the red bottle that was next to him.

“Oh yeah of course!” Deku beamed her a smile as he passed her the bottle.

Uraraka fiddled with the cap for about a minute before sighing out loud, defeated.

“Deku can you open it?” She hands the bottle back to Deku, giving him a small smile and looking down at her food, slightly embarrassed. Imagine being a pro-hero in training and losing to a bottle of ketchup.

Deku notices her visual distress, “Hey, don’t worry! You know what you need to do? Go Plus Ultra! Focus all your strength and try again!” He shot her a wide smile.

Bakugou, who was sitting on the couch at the time, listening to their conversation, just rolls his eyes. “Go pLuS ULtRa!” He mocks, whispering to himself.

“You’re right Deku! Hand the bottle back!” Excitement and determination replaced her previous embarrassed face, as she grabbed the bottle from Deku before struggling a bit with the cap, but finally popping it off.

“Deku I did it!” Uravity exclaims, huge smile plastered on her face.

“Because you did it PLUS ULTRA!”

Deku and Uraraka laugh and continued to finish their breakfast before the school day started.

It was 830AM and the members of the Bakusquad were all seated in the common area impatiently waiting for Kirishima.

“Kirishima hurry up!” Mina sighed, looking at the red head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I forgot about the math worksheet! I have like 5 problems left!” Kirishima responded with a panic, trying to quickly solve the math problems in front of him.

“We’re going to be late for school if you don’t hurry up, then Aizawa sensei is gonna chew us out!” Denki said with a hint of fear laced in his words.

“Tch. Shitty hair, we better not be late because of you.” Bakugou snarled from his position on the couch.

Midoriya sat on the opposite side of the table Kirishima was working on. Deku was engrossed in his hero notebook, writing thoughts, making up strategies, all while mumbling to himself. The green haired boy snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a frustrated sigh coming from Kirishima.

“Kirishima are you okay?” Izuku asked with genuine concern.

“This last problem is hurting my brain!” Kirishima whined, erasing his previous markings and letting out another frustrated sigh when he dropped his pencil from erasing too hard.

“Don’t worry! You know what you need to do? Just make your brain go Plus Ultra!” Midoriya nodded as he gave Kirishima his nonhelpful advice.

The phrase made Bakugou once again roll his eyes. Make your brain go Plus Ultra? How are you even going to do that? That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Nobody with half a brain cell is going to believe they can make their stupid brain go ‘Plus Ultra’. Bakugou thought.

“You’re so right MidoBro!”

Of course Shitty hair is going to eat that crap up. Bakugou finished his thought. Scowl on his face as he scrolled through his phone, angrily listening to the conversation.

“And there, it’s done!” Kirishima sighed in relief as he shoved his now finished math homework into his backpack. “Thank you for encouraging me Midoriya! And thank you brain for going Plus Ultra!” Kirishima happy danced his way over to the Bakusquad. “Alright let’s head to class!”

Time was going by so slow. Bakugou felt like he’s been in the same class forever. When the bell finally rang he jumped with excitement.

Finally, my favorite class. Bakugou thought, a small grin creeping on his face. Gym.

Everyone got changed into their gym clothes and met Aizawa sensei at USJ.

“Okay students, I will be splitting you up into partners and you will have to work together to stay hidden. Me and some of the other teachers are going to try to catch you.” Aizawa stated, monotone.

“Like a game of hide and seek?” Mina asked, excited that training today was more of a game than actual training.

“Correct. The winning team gets a prize.”

Ooh’s and ahh’s filled the air as the students got psyched to play. All wondering what the special prize at the end was. Everyone was determined. It’s gonna be one hell of a game.

Aizawa quickly broke up the chatter. “Listen, partners are:

Aoyama & Ashido

Asui & Hagakure

Iida & Jiro

Kaminari & Koda

Kirishima & Mineta

Ojiro & Sato

Sero & Uraraka

Bakugou & Midoriya

Shoji & Yaoyorozu

Todoroki & Tokoyami”

“Trade partners.” Bakugou asked everyone. No way was he going to be stuck with his childhood friend, turned enemy, turned rival.

“There will be no trading partners.” Aizawa stated, pinching the bridge of his nose in a annoyance. “You have 10 minutes to think of a strategy, you can use the whole training center, there will be a bell that rings after your 10 minutes of planning, when the bell rings, you have approximately 6 minutes before the other teachers and I start hunting. Understood?”

“Yes!” Said all the students unanimously, quickly finding their designated partners and started planning their survival, working together flawlessly.

All except Bakugou and Deku.

“Come on Kacchan I think it would be better to hide in the forest so we can hide in all the trees!” Deku whined at the explosive blonde.

“Tch. No nerd, we’re going to the city.” Bakugou stubbornly argued.

Bickering went back and forth and before they knew it, their 10 minute planning time was up and the bell rang. Everyone started to scatter, running to their chosen areas. Bakugou and Midoriya were too caught up in fighting that they didn’t decide on a place, so they both just ran. No plan, just running.

They ended up in the city area and hid in what seemed to be like a little bomb shelter. It was a little room underground, they had to take some sketchy staircase hidden inside a bar to get there.

Breathing hard, they both looked at each other and nodded, agreeing this was a good place to hide.

As time went by, Deku tried to make conversation with the explosive blonde, but Bakugou just ignored the green haired boy the whole time.

They heard some commotion outside of their hiding spot. Sounds like another team was hiding near us and got caught. Bakugou thought.

15 minutes of hiding passed, and Deku had a huge smile plastered on his face.

“What are you smiling about Deku?” Bakugou asked with annoyance.

“This hiding place is so good! It’s like we’re hiding Plus Ultra!” Deku beamed, hands shaking from all the excitement.

Not that shit again.

“You know what. That’s it.” Bakugou said as he tackled Deku to the floor, both boys landing with a huge thump. “I’m sick of hearing ‘Plus Ultra’ come out of your mouth. Plus Ultra this, Plus Ultra that. I’ll show you Plus Ultra you nerd.” Bakugou pins Deku to the floor and pinning his arms above his head with one hand.

“Kacchan wait!” Midoriya begs, shaking his head while tugging at his hands to try to get Bakugou off, not sure what is going to happen to him.

Bakugou wastes no time as he shoots his free hand into Midoriya’s exposed armpit.

“AHHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHAH KAHAHAHACCHAHAHAN!” Midoriya laughs out, surprised.

“Every time you speak all i hear is ‘Plus Ultra,’ so I’m going to take your advice nerd, and tickle you. Plus. Ultra.” Bakugou teases, with emphasis on the last two words, digging in a little harder into the green hairs’ armpit.

“WAHAHAHAHAIT IHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHORRY!” Midoriya squeezes his eyes shut, kicking his legs miserably.

A distant memory floods Bakugou’s mind. It was back in their elementary days. The two boys were in this same position, Deku a giggling mess under Kacchan. They had just finished school, and Deku was in a rather sad mood, and Bakugou cheered him up with tickles. Things were simpler back then, Bakugou thought to himself, a genuine smile forming on his face as he thought of his childhood. He was brought back to reality when he heard a small scream.

“NGA! KAHAHAHAHACCHAHAHAHAN NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!” The broccoli headed boy cried out with laughter, trying to buck the blonde off of him.

Bakugou responded with an evil laugh, and released Midoriya’s wrists, and used both of his free hands to dig into Deku’s ribs. Resulting in waves of high pitched shrieks from Deku.

“STAHAHAHAHAP! NAHAHAHAHA! KAHAHAHAHCCHAN HAHAHAHAHAVE MEHEHEHEHEHERCY! SOHOHOHOHOME OHOHOHOHONE HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHE!” Midoriya’s eyes started to collect puddles of mirthful tears, as he endured the ticklish torture.

“Tch. Deku, nobody can hear you down here. Guess you’re just gonna have to take it, and go…….?” Bakugou paused, words laced with that teasing tone that Midoriya couldn’t help but blush at. Continuing to assault Deku’s ribs, waiting for an answer.

“PLUHUHUHUHUS UHUHUHUHULTRA HAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHI GEHEHEHEHET IHIHIHIHIT!” Midoriya spat back, shaking his head, hoping the blonde had enough fun tickling the shit outta him.

Bakugou moved his fingers rhythmically, up and down Deku’s ribs, almost like playing a piano, not letting a single rib escape from his tickle attack.

“Oh-hoho, now you’re getting it.” Bakugou couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as he looked at the scene beneath him. “And now for the best part.” With those words, Bakugou stopped his fingers. And Midoriya’s eyes grew wide.

“No no no Kacchan, you know I can’t take it there.” Midoriya blurted out through gasps of air, tired from the previous attack, but still trying to push the explosive blonde off of him trying to protect himself.

“But what’s that thing you always say?” Bakugou pressed his fingers into his chin creating a thinking pose. “Hmmm, oh yeah! Don’t worry! You know what you need to do?” Bakugou’s hands lowered themselves to each side of Midoriya’s hip bones.

“Go.” Bakugou started to knead softly at Izuku’s hips. Resulting in loud giggles from the boy.

“Plus.” Bakugou added more pressure, circling his fingers on the sensitive bone. Louder laughter exploded from the boy.

“Ultra!” Bakugou dug his fingers into Deku’s hips and Deku lost his shit.

“KAHAHAHAHAA-” Deku couldn’t even finish his attackers name before he fell into silent laughter. His hipbones were the most ticklish and he couldn’t last very long once someone started tickling him there. Since they were younger, Bakugou would always use this little piece of information to his advantage.

The green haired boy’s tears finally fell from his eyes, leaving his cheeks tear stained. Midoriya’s arms flailed and tried to remove the explosive blonde’s hands away from his death spot. Failing of course.

About a minute later, the tickling slowed, until it finally came to a stop. Bakugou’s hands resting on the boy’s hips.

Residual giggles left Deku’s lips, and Bakugou hopped of his waist. Deku sat up, enjoying his freedom. Bakugou’s eyes were fixated on Midoriya. His hair a mess from the attack he just endured, cheeks still a little damp from mirthful tears, sweat building on his forehead. Bakugou mentally awed at the sight.

Midoriya could feel the stares coming from his childhood friend, and turned to face him, eyes meeting with each others. Deku gave Bakugou a smile and Bakugou looked away.

“Tch. Don’t think we’re friends or something, I just wanted you to shut it with that Plus Ultra shit.” Bakugou scoffed, permanent scowl plastered on his face. He knew that was a lie.

Midoriya was just about to reply when they heard loud bells, and an announcement that followed. “2 teams left! Who will be the last to survive?!” Both boys heard Present Mic practically scream out.

The game wasn’t over.

[4dtk]

more than a bet (cont. from a sweet bet)

anon: “ohmygod i loved that sub!jae work sm😭😭 would you be able to do more?? maybe with a soft femdom and whiny jae? its truly heartbreaking seeing the lack of sub!jae on here 😔” i’m glad you liked it!!!!! hope u like this one too <3 i might have made reader a bit of a mean dom i’m sorry ;;

ps was gonna make jae orgasm untouched but…. aha / you don't have to read the previous part to understand but anon is talking about this fic!

warnings/tags: pegging, bit of dacryphilia, handjob, sub!jaehyun, soft femdom!reader, brief face-sitting, brief cunnilingus

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“back for more already?” you laughed, eyeing the timid boy standing in front of you with fists clenched onto the straps of his book bag. his knuckles turn white from how tight he’s holding it and you don’t miss the nervous shifting he does with his feet.

all jaehyun lets out is a dreamy sigh, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he ignores the calls of his friends a metre from him.

he’s tall, although all the male wants to do right now is turn to mush with the uncomfortable rub of his thighs against each other and the gaze you’re looking down at him with.

it’s no different when you have him in your bed later and in the palm of your hand, literally, as the other clutches onto the sheets with the same intensity earlier, the skin of his neck exposed from how far he’s dropped his head back in pleasure.

jaehyun’s dick leaks pre-cum like no other while his tip throbs red, begging to be touched impatiently by your rather patient hand. it stays at the base of his cock, squeezing and unsqueezing as the other’s whines reach your ears.

“(y-y/n)… hurts s’bad!” jaehyun groans, eyes which were scrunched tight opening as they plead with you. it was shameless in the way his legs were spread to accommodate you in between, with the occasional buck of his hips that made the rustling of sheets ever resonant in the room. he was at your mercy, from day one in the quiet classroom, and he was at your mercy, now, with mouth parted as delicious moans spilled from his lips.

“what does, baby?” you ask, knowing full well what he was hinting at before leaning down to place a harmless kiss on his tip. you relish in the way you make him feel, the gesture making his thighs almost close, something that he does out of habit if not for your hands holding them open.

“t-that! that hurts, (y/n)-ssi!” he chokes on the moan he lets out, twitching with sensitivity when you finally move your hand along his shaft, giving him what he wants. your hand moves easily with how much he’s leaking, the lewd noises increasing in volume as you increase your pace. you make sure to pump his full length, up, down, up, down, with his arousal providing for sufficient lube.

jaehyun lets out a sob, slapping a hand over his mouth as the knot in his stomach tightens and tightens, threatening to release at any moment with how good you’re making him feel. your lips feel dry with the desperation in his movements, sounds and noises alike bringing much wetness to your underwear. it’s not the priority on your mind for now, rather more fixated on helping jaehyun to his high.

“you wanna cum, hm?” you mocked with a grin, speeding up your hand while the other goes up to tweak at his nipples, rolling them in between your thumb and index as his moans become more prominent and frequent. there’s multiple affirmations spilling from his lips, yes, yes, yes, i wanna c-cum!

“go on, then, cum,” you prompt with a pant and it hits. it hits like truck as a sultry groan rips from his throat while you observe how his veins pop out in frustration and quads flex when the string snaps. jaehyun’s eager to get more pleasure as he jerks into your already moving hand.

there’s endless profanities mixed in with mewls as he spills all over your hand, white hot spurts of cum dripping from his tip and down the back of his hand. you so skillfully lick it up while it’s still wrapped around his cock, deliberately avoiding the shaft.

as jaehyun catches his breath, there’s a whispered question of do you think you’re ready? you don’t push it when he shakes his head, but you realise that you’re thankful. so so thankful he’s come back a second time for you to be able to see this again.

and again.

and again.

the next time, you’re lapping at his hole, prodding and teasing with your tongue while his face stays buried in his sheets. he’s struggling to keep a quiet front even when you slip a finger in, both from embarrassment and the family movie going on outside and sticks his ass up into your face achingly.

“that’s it, baby boy, relax for me. gotta prepare you for my cock, now, yeah?” you moan at how easy his hole is sucking in your finger, no doubt doing the same to your strap later on.

jaehyun watches in awe as you remove your outfit, eyes lingering on the obvious bulge sticking out of your underwear. his mouth hangs open, both in fear and excitement with you having worn the strap-on for the whole day of university, lips turning up at the mere thought of you ruining him in the next few minutes.

“whatcha smiling about?” you grinned, guiding his chest down onto the bed again as he mumbles with a whine, something that makes you freeze up in the midst of lubing your cock.

“just thinking of how dumb you’d fuck me, (y/n)-ssi.” you’re sure it’s the innocence laced within the voice, so pure, so needy, yet so dirty.

your breath is shaky as you ease the strap-on into him. every inch that disappears into him only make you groan in the sight, while the male bites down on a finger to prevent any noise. by then, you’re unable to keep a cap on your lust, snapping your hips to deliver a hard thrust that has jaehyun’s moans hitting the walls.

“you doing okay, honey?”

jaehyun only hums, a pleased smile spreading across his lips as he turns back to you with eyes that take your breath away. they’re dilated, tinted with something you never knew you could bring out of jaehyun.

as his back arches to get more of your cock, you have to swallow. it’s the only way to take your mind off the sweat glistening off his back and the tight grip his hand has on your thigh.

“’s so good, (y/n), ’s so so good- mmh!” he drawls out his speech while you continue to thrust in and out at his confirmation, losing just a bit of control with how smoothly your name rolls of his tongue.

your hips meet his ass continuously, feeling the burn of your thighs and the roughness of the sheets below you. there’s distant chatter outside the door, fortunate enough for jaehyun’s room to be at the end of a passageway and away from the living room.

“h-harder! faster, p..pleeease-!” he almost screams when your cock meets his prostate, mouth dropped at the immense pleasure and tongue lolling out.

tears lingered at the corners of jaehyun’s eyes, making you want to cum on the spot with the expression on his face. beautiful, beautiful, all spread out for me. it repeated like a mantra in your head.

jaehyun cries out when your hand wraps around his cock and he swears he sees heaven for a second with eyes rolling back. you’re stroking with fervour, matching the pace of your satisfying thrusts and the squelching sounds only contribute to the atmosphere, room smelling like sex and musk and desperation.

“c’mon, baby boy, cum on my cock. do your worst.”

and he really does.

“hhhn- cumming, cumming, so good- so full!” jaehyun whimpers into the sheets, just loud enough for you to hear when you’re hovering over his body. it’s the most the male’s cummed since the last time, white staining both the sheets below you and your hand while his body jerks at the intense orgasm.

you hum, easing out the strap that jaehyun moans at the emptiness. nevertheless, he relaxes when you place a kiss on his shoulder, still recovering from the hypnotising high.

“what about.. you… (y/n)-ssi?” he slurs, turning his head on the pillow so his eyes could see you in your glory.

“you’re tired, aren’t you? come, let’s rest up-“

“no…” jaehyun whines, and you’re so close to edge him again, “wanna eat you out, (y/n)…”

your lips can taste his cum when you bite a finger out of nervousness, hands fumbling to remove your strap almost immediately. you’re positively soaked when you touch yourself after, caving in to your desire when jaehyun drags you closer.

“just relax, (y/n). take your seat,” he’s still delirious, giggling when your surprise shows. and when you eventually do? it’s the best fucking seat that he offers, his mouth sucking on your clit as your legs tremble around his ears.

“you’re delicious, (y/n).”

it’s the best fucking seat and jaehyun’s glad to clean up after you, worshipping you at the foot of your throne adorned with gold and velvet that he always comes back to. it’s addicting, but how could he resist when you’re a queen that never stops giving?

[matt0044]

The Insidious Appeal of “Monty’s Vision” Conspiracies.

(warning: I will hold back on major spoilers for Broadchurch but I might dip into minor ones for the sake of my points).

Season Two of BBC’s crime drama, Broadchurch, takes place in the fallout of the solved murder of young Daniel Latimer where the killer is put on trial and pleads not guilty despite that we saw them confess to everything. The legal team defending the perp spends much of the new courtroom drama twisting events of the previous seasons to make their client look like the real victim.

Much of the lawyer’s words spin a yarn that suggests that what was official reported of the case’s resoluton was fabricated at best. She suggests that Alec and Ellie were desperate to bring in anybody with the pressure put on them that they beat a confession out of who we know was the killer.

They even try to pin Danny’s father as the true perpetrator due to an affair he was having on the night his son died, suggesting Mark killed his son in desperation to keep him silent. I don’t think I have to tell fans of the show that this nearly made me sick to my stomach. We knew what the truth was. We saw the truth in Season One yet here’s this slime ball trying to rewrite the narrative.

What made it chilling was that I could imagine myself as the impartial jurors, hanging onto every word and starting to actually think, “Maybe... she’s right.” They weren’t there to see what the detectives investigated. They weren’t there to see the killer caught and confess up front. What if the story wasn’t as straightforward as officials claim it to be? What if... there was more?

Isn’t that more hooking? Wouldn’t it be more... satisfying if it wasn’t as straightforward as, “boy killed, killer arrested,” but rather a complex web of deceit? It might not be the truth and is clearly based on extrapolation rather than actual concrete evidence... but it sounds like a damn good story, don’t it?

And that is how the “Monty’s Vision” discourse sustains itself.

Tell me which narrative sounds more compelling:

“Monty Oum regularly collaborated with Miles Luna as well as Kerry Shawcross to flesh out his raw ideas for characters and storylines, It was a team effort that involved many others contributing be it off-the-cuff or long term. After Monty’s passing, Miles and Kerry took it hard but knew that it was important to see RWBY through the best they could with their ever expanding team.”

Vs.

“Monty Oum wrote the whole of RWBY volume by volume on his own, considering ideas from Miles and Kerry when need be. He was a visionary, an auteur who had to deal with corporate stooges looking for a quick buck. With his passing, Miles and Kerry saw to it that they make RWBY into a shameless cash cow with nary regard for quality of the story or action.”

Admittedly, I skimmed a bit on both but a former fan of RWBY would find more satisfaction to their frustrations with the latter narrative. It’s not enough for Monty to have died while leaving big shoes to fill. It has to be an secret plan to ruin his vision for the sake of capitol. What, is the show... just not doing it for you anymore period?

Thus YouTube grifters like Hero_Hei get to make bank over the dissatisfaction of miffed fans looking for an answer, peddling stories of “what’s happening behind the scenes” that are hyperbolic at best and fabricated at worst. They need to keep this hate train a-chugging because any acceptance of the truth means that they can’t get the views the need.

The worst part? I get it. I’ve occasionally fallen for the some of the less egregious conspiracies for fear of the worst. However, Tumblr Meta as well as actually good video essays such as by Hypeathon helped me realize that it really wasn’t anything shady despite these bad takes worming into my mind.

Ask yourself this: Is a video essay or blog post convincing because it’s based on actual official sources or because it’s just like something you saw on HBO?

[enigma2meagain]

The Insidious Appeal of the “Monty’s Vision” Conspiracies by Matt0055.

He makes a pretty compelling point in regards to why the Monty’s Vision Conspiracy tends to stick so hard. Be sure to go and throw the guy a like or something, especially his post on Reddit.

WARNING: Spoilers for the Crime Drama Broadchurch!

(warning: I will hold back on major spoilers for Broadchurch but I might dip into minor ones for the sake of my points).

Season Two of BBC’s crime drama, Broadchurch, takes place in the fallout of the solved murder of young Daniel Latimer where the killer is put on trial and pleads not guilty despite that we saw them confess to everything. The legal team defending the perp spends much of the new courtroom drama twisting events of the previous seasons to make their client look like the real victim.

Much of the lawyer’s words spin a yarn that suggests that what was official reported of the case’s resoluton was fabricated at best. She suggests that Alec and Ellie were desperate to bring in anybody with the pressure put on them that they beat a confession out of who we know was the killer.

They even try to pin Danny’s father as the true perpetrator due to an affair he was having on the night his son died, suggesting Mark killed his son in desperation to keep him silent. I don’t think I have to tell fans of the show that this nearly made me sick to my stomach. We knew what the truth was. We saw the truth in Season One yet here’s this slime ball trying to rewrite the narrative.

What made it chilling was that I could imagine myself as the impartial jurors, hanging onto every word and starting to actually think, “Maybe… she’s right.” They weren’t there to see what the detectives investigated. They weren’t there to see the killer caught and confess up front. What if the story wasn’t as straightforward as officials claim it to be? What if… there was more?

Isn’t that more hooking? Wouldn’t it be more… satisfying if it wasn’t as straightforward as, “boy killed, killer arrested,” but rather a complex web of deceit? It might not be the truth and is clearly based on extrapolation rather than actual concrete evidence… but it sounds like a damn good story, don’t it?

And that is how the “Monty’s Vision” discourse sustains itself.

Tell me which narrative sounds more compelling:

“Monty Oum regularly collaborated with Miles Luna as well as Kerry Shawcross to flesh out his raw ideas for characters and storylines, It was a team effort that involved many others contributing be it off-the-cuff or long term. After Monty’s passing, Miles and Kerry took it hard but knew that it was important to see RWBY through the best they could with their ever expanding team.”

Vs.

“Monty Oum wrote the whole of RWBY volume by volume on his own, considering ideas from Miles and Kerry when need be. He was a visionary, an auteur who had to deal with corporate stooges looking for a quick buck. With his passing, Miles and Kerry saw to it that they make RWBY into a shameless cash cow with nary regard for quality of the story or action.”

Admittedly, I skimmed a bit on both but a former fan of RWBY would find more satisfaction to their frustrations with the latter narrative. It’s not enough for Monty to have died while leaving big shoes to fill. It has to be an secret plan to ruin his vision for the sake of capitol. What, is the show… just not doing it for you anymore period?

It's how many have bought into that one open letter even to this day. It's the classic if cliche story of the creative versus the corporate. Of an honest man's vision versus unscrupulous greed. What's the one thing that most Millennials advocate for most than eating the rich?

Thus YouTube grifters like Hero_Hei get to make bank over the dissatisfaction of miffed fans looking for an answer, peddling stories of “what’s happening behind the scenes” that are hyperbolic at best and fabricated at worst. They need to keep this hate train a-chugging because any acceptance of the truth means that they can’t get the views the need.

The worst part? I get it. I’ve occasionally fallen for the some of the less egregious conspiracies for fear of the worst. However, Tumblr Meta as well as actually good video essays such as by Hypeathon/Team SKGA helped me realize that it really wasn’t anything that... bombastic.

I always asked myself this whenever I run into this: Is a video essay or blog post convincing because it’s based on actual official sources or because it’s just like a documentary you saw on HBO?

Check here for other RWBY related posts: https://enigma2meagain.tumblr.com/rwbyposts

[itjazzbicch]

The Last Laugh PT. 3

Pairing:  Kenny Omega x Fem Reader

Summary: Continuing from my Last Laugh Series (In my wattpad which is in bio):

The reader and Kenny are now realizing their true feelings for one another, but the Young Bucks still have their questions due to previous events, trying to crack the reader but when they fail, they test Kenny...

Warnings:  N/A

Requested by: No one (But I hope you all enjoy!) 

Word Count:  2784

Tag List: @demonqueen29 @jessiebean00 @new-zealand-chic @crowleysqueenofhell @justamess44 @thatpanpal @hungmanhorsecarriage @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch  @linziland13 @yungbludjazz360​  

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF

[You coming over not? I have a big match tonight you know] I sent to Kenny.

I thought I’d never see the day, but Kenny and I were getting along, getting very close and having true feelings for each other rather than just going at it.

[Just give me a few minutes. I’ll be over] Kenny sent back.

I had a championship match tonight and Kenny said he wanted to see me before since he couldn’t escort me out himself.

Since he had to take his time, I patiently waited for him. There were still some things for me to do. I just got out of hair and make-up, my gear still needed to be adjusted, so I just sat in my locker room waiting.

Kenny didn’t take as long as I thought he was going to, quickly turning to my phone when I heard it vibrating consistently.

“You finally coming over?” I asked, holding my phone up to my ear as I was still fixing my boots.

“Sure am!” Kenny said cheerfully, “You ready for the night?”

“Always ready,” I smirked, sitting up straight.

“You always have been,” Kenny cooed, but then there was silence. After a moment, Kenny whispered into the phone, “Hey, give me a second.”

Kenny didn’t hang up, but it sounded as if he put his phone in his pocket, it was muffled, but I heard Matt.

“Kenny, we have an interview and some other stuff to take care of. Where are you going?” Matt questioned.

From the sound of Kenny’s voice, he was remaining calm when he sighed, “You guys realize that I am a champion across three different companies, right? The champion is a very busy man.”

“Yeah, but we already had this planned dude,” Nick groaned, but Kenny didn’t budge, explaining:

“A few minutes delay isn’t going to ruin anything, okay? A few minutes is all I need. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

“You know,” Matt said, sounding like a stand-off was ready to happen, “I have heard that phrase before and I’m convinced that it’s a code word of some sorts.”

Kenny scoffed at his comment, groaning, “Where else have you heard that from?”

“Remember when Y/N tried being a bitch again out in the parking lot? Well later that night, we coincidentally ran into her again. She told us that she had business to attend to. Said it just like you did,” Matt pointed out, Nick adding:

“And how strange it was that your phone kept going straight to voicemail that night and she also went up to the floor of your hotel room.”

Kenny was always good at getting around sticky situations, laughing at them at first, “Aren’t the two of you observant!” But then, his voice grew serious when he continued, “Look, you two are just letting mind games get to you. Now, I have business to do. I’m not going to stand here and play into your conspiracies.”

After that, the phone hung up. I was on the same page as Kenny. They sure were nosey and it angered him. I could tell by the tone of his voice.

This week, I got myself a private locker room and no one knew where it was except for Kenny, so I left the door unlocked.

When Kenny entered, he was stressed and I addressed it.

“I heard everything, Kenny,” I informed him.

Kenny had both hands on his hips, still frustrated, groaning, “They are like brothers to me but damn, they need to mind their business!”

Quickly, I went to Kenny, pulling his face towards me so I could look in his eyes, saying, “What they don’t know won’t kill them. They are kind of catching on and hell, even if they figure it out!

They will prove their loyalty and accept your decisions.”

“They just don’t realize how things have changed,” Kenny whispered, “I know they can tell. They just won’t face it.”

“I agree, but right now, we have bigger things to worry about,” I sighed, smiling, “I do appreciate you coming back here to support me.”

“Believe me, I wish I could escort you out there,” Kenny smiled back, looking down at me, “And then bring you back here and get you out of that gear.”

“Hey, my shower is big enough for the two of us,” I chuckled, laughing more when Kenny said:

“First handcuffs, now shower sex? You sure are creative.”

“That’s only the beginning baby,” I cooed, raising up a bit to kiss him, Kenny returning my kiss, putting an even bigger smile on my face.

“But in all seriousness,” Kenny whispered against my lips, “I am proud that you are a fighting champion. I know you’ll kick ass out there.”

“Don’t I always?” I snickered, “Tonight, I’ll even step it up, just for you.”

“I’ll be watching so you better live up to that,” Kenny warned me playfully.

“I always live up to the hype,” I sighed, kissing him one more time.

Kenny stayed in the locker room with me for a bit longer, we even went over some exercises to get me in the zone and I was ready.

I had about seven minutes to get to the guerrilla and Kenny already took off, so I made my way there with my title on my shoulder.

I was laser-focused, confident like always, but on my way to the guerrilla, someone was there to give me “support”.

“Y/N!” Matt smiled, approaching me with Nick right behind him, “There’s our reigning, defending, women’s champion!”

“For once, I agree with you,” I smiled in his face and I could see how it angered them.

“Unlike Matt, I’m not going to play these games anymore,” Nick said sternly, “We know what you’re trying to do to Kenny.”

“Thank you, Nick,” Matt smiled at me, “We know you’re just trying to hurt him. It’s Japan all over again. Not to mention that little fight you keep mentioning .”

Even I couldn’t deny it, My rivalry with Kenny in Japan was intense, but as Kenny said earlier, things were different and I wasn’t going to let Nick and Matt get the better of me.

At first, I just laughed but getting serious when I said, “You two are just delusional. I have no intentions with Kenny. So what I poke some fun at him every now and then. Rivalries just don’t end you know. And that fight? Again, Kenny is the one who needs to tell you. Not me.”

“We know what’s happening,” Matt growled, stepping up to me, “I’ve seen all the signs and you might think we’re stupid, but you are rudely mistaken.”

“Whatever you say, boys,” I sighed, rolling my eyes.

I didn’t have time for their interrogations and bullshit. My title was on the line and I was facing Tay Conti, a very good female wrestler who I could not underestimate.

My match went exactly like how I imagined it would. It was all straight-up wrestling. We showed that it was main event worthy and we tore the house down.

The only thing that kept slowing me down is her constant attacks on my left arm. It all began whenever she rammed me into the steel ring post.

I was truly afraid that I separated my shoulder or something, the moment I fell to the ground, holding my arm, the referee and some medical staff tried tending to me.

Like always, my stubbornness took over. I refused to quit this match, crying through the pain when I got back up and into the ring.

Everyone thought I was crazy, but I still kept going, using my striking and my legs to the best of my abilities.

Towards the end of our match, Tay had me in an armbar on my injured arm and everyone watched in shock whenever I yelled through the pain, picking up her entire body with my bad arm, power slamming her on the mat.

My arm needed a moment. I didn’t even bother to go to cover her for the pin. The ropes assisted me to my feet, Tay getting up at the same time.

We met in the center of the ring and she went to hit me with a kick but I ducked it, running to the ropes, coming back and dodging again but the next time I came back, I hit her with a devastating, jumping knee strike, similar to Kenny’s V-Trigger and I pinned Tay, retaining my title.

The entire crowd were on their feet and cheering me while I sat on the mat, taking my title and holding it close, sitting still while the referee was checking out my arm again, but then we were all confused, looking to the stage when we heard:

“SUPER-KICK PARTYYYYY!”

I literally couldn’t believe it when I stood up, turning around to see Nick and Matt on stage.

“Wow! So impressive! That is one of the best women’s matches I’ve seen!” Matt smiled, Nick following with:

“So much technical wrestling. I loved it!”

“Y/N, you have beaten just about every female on the roster. I appreciate you wanting to be all about the women’s division,” Matt began, “But remember back in Japan when you wrestled in the men’s division?”

“That was crazy times,” Nick smirked devilishly, “And unfortunately for you, Y/N, you left some unfinished business in Japan and now it followed you to AEW.”

I was just in shock. My arm was killing me, I just wrestled my ass off and now they were doing this, live on television!

“You said it yourself, rivalries never really end and ours sure as hell hasn’t ended yet,” Matt growled at me and after that, I had enough, requesting a microphone.

“Are you kidding me? I just wrestled my ass off and you want to come out here, trying to pull up dirty laundry that happened forever ago!” I yelled at them, my anger controlling me when I said,

“I can tell you’re in a fighting mood and I am pretty pissed off! You wanna fight? Get your asses in this ring! I dare you! I’ll kick both of your asses just like I did in Japan!”

Slowly, Nick and Matt walked to the ring and I got into a fighting position, but I knew something was off. They were anticipating something, but after a moment, they rushed into the ring and I didn’t back down whatsoever.

Right, when they got to me, I was ready to swing, but then we all got knocked over. For a moment, the adrenaline in me died and all of the pain from my shoulder hit me hard.

Quickly, I rolled over into the corner, not caring that I was crying, but watching whenever I saw that it was Kenny. He didn’t intend to knock me over, he was protecting me and that’s when I realized what Matt and Nick were doing. They were testing Kenny.

“What the hell are you doing?” Matt yelled at Kenny, standing up and getting in his face.

Kenny delivered that fire right back, forehead to forehead with Matt, yelling back:“What the hell are YOU doing?!”

Everything was just a mess, everyone so confused as to what was happening, Nick yelling to Kenny:

“Tell us the truth, Kenny!”

Quickly, Matt pushed Kenny away, yelling at him, “Tell us now!��

“You want to know the truth?” Kenny yelled, looking back at both of them, his face so red from anger, taking everyone by surprise, which included me when he yelled at the top of his lungs, it echoing through the arena, “I LOVE HER! I ALWAYS HAVE GOT DAMN IT!”

We all just froze my heart about burst through my chest.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, still crying especially when Kenny turned back and saw the condition I was in.

At that moment, Kenny just forgot about Matt and Nick, tending to me instead. I had previous shoulder injures so I was truly concerned about my condition.

“It’s your bad shoulder isn’t it?” Kenny asked quickly and I just nodded my head, crying:

“It hurts so bad.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to get you taken care of,” Kenny assured, taking my other arm, “You have to get up though.”

Again, I was fighting through the pain, standing up and grabbing my title, still across the ring from Nick and Matt. I still wanted to fight them for the scene they just caused, but Kenny killed that whenever he pointed at them, saying:

“I’ll handle the both of you later.”

Finally, Kenny and I left the ring, taking me back to get the medical attention that I needed. They were checking out my shoulder, multiple tests needed to be done and that scared me.

I was grateful that Kenny didn’t leave my side, but there was a moment that he needed to have whenever we heard outside the door.

“Can someone please tell Kenny to come to talk to us?”

It was Matt.

Kenny rolled his eyes, turning red again because he was still super upset with them but he stood up, giving me a quick kiss, “I’ll be right back.”

He left the door crack and even though they kept their voices low, I could still hear everything.

“So, you love her, huh?” Nick asked, truly curious rather than being a smart ass.

“Have you two ever noticed how in Japan, I’m the one who started the beef with her? All the sly little comments we’d make? How we never took our fights seriously?” Kenny sighed, “Since the day I met her, I’ve wanted her. I just didn’t know how to do it.”

“Kenny, I’ll be the first to say, we’re sorry,” Matt explained, “We just thought that you two legitimately hated each other and when you two got close all of a sudden, we just wanted to have your back. I didn’t want to have to do that, but you just weren’t telling us!”

“Well maybe you should have taken the fact that we were taking things slowly into consideration,” Kenny scoffed, still upset with them.

“You’re right, Kenny,” Nick sighed, “Again, we’re sorry, and just know that we love you, man. If you want to be with Y/N, I’m all for it.”

“Me too,” Matt agreed, nodding his head.

I could see them hugging and it made me feel good. They had brotherhood and I never intended to break that. I just wanted to be with Kenny and it was good to know that he wanted the same with me.

“How’s her shoulder?” Nick asked and Kenny just sighed, his hand covering his face for a moment.

“Not going to lie, I’m worried for her. She had to have surgery on that shoulder before,” Kenny huffed, “They’re making her do a bunch of testing for it.”

“God I feel like shit,” Matt whined, then he just came through the door and he hugged me.

“Dude, my shoulder,” I said quickly, but also laughing as he backed away, mumbling;

“Right, I’m sorry about that.”

“Y/N, we owe you a long overdue apology. What we did tonight was wrong and irresponsible,” Nick admitted to me, “We shouldn’t have tried to invade your privacy.”

“I understand why you did,” I sighed, poking some fun at them when I added, “Besides, fucking with you guys is always a fun time.”

We all shared a good laugh, Nick giving me a soft hug too.

“Also, just know, that match was fucking awesome,” Matt smirked at me, “I wasn’t lying about that. You’re an amazing champion Y/N.”

“Thanks. Hopefully, I don’t have to give it up,” I sighed, looking down at my shoulder.

“Everything will be just fine,” Kenny smiled at me, trying to raise my spirits, and then finally, we had a true, one on one session whenever Matt said:

“I hope you feel better, Y/N. Nick, let’s go. They need alone time.”

Nick and Matt finally went off and closed the door behind them and once we were alone, Kenny was still standing in front of me while I was sitting.

Slowly I looked up into his eyes, getting emotional whenever I asked shyly, “You’ve always loved me, Kenny?”

With a bright smile, Kenny nodded his head and just to brighten our moods when I said:

“I fucking knew it!”

We both laughed together, Kenny hugging me and being gentle and when his head came close to me, I whispered, “I’ve always loved you too, Kenny.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. I love you. I just never knew how to express it. Then next thing I knew, we were the biggest rivals in Japan,” Kenny exhaled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore. We have each other now and I’m serious when I tell you, I love you,” I whispered, my arm wrapping around his neck.

Kenny gave a little bit of a squeeze and when he looked back up at me, his eyes looked teary but a gorgeous smile was on his face, his head falling to kiss me softly, whispering against my lips,

“No more hiding it. You’re mine and that’s never going to change.”

I quickly smiled against our kiss, kissing a bit harder, whispering back, “Just how I want it to be.”

[buckyjustbelikethat]

Message Received (One-Shot)

Request: Hi can I make a request, I get awful nose bleeds and I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with a bloody nose, pillow covered in blood and usually whatever I'm wearing is covered in blood, so could I request that the reader has a nose bleed like that in the middle of the night and goes to the bathroom to sort it out and Bucky wakes up and sees the blood and the reader missing and then fluff X sorry to ramble love your work by the way xx

Title: Message Received (One-Shot)

Characters: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: Approx. 1200

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares and blood.

A/N: I loved this request, thank you to whoever sent it my way! I hope you all are doing well, and my next chapter of my series will be posted later this week! 💕💕 (P.S. I’ve been lucky enough to rarely get nose bleeds in my life so sorry if some of the description is inaccurate.)

It was one of the first nights you and Bucky had slept in the same bed together. You had been together for a while now and spending the nights at each other's places happened more slowly than some of your other relationships but it was organic. He needed to trust you, and you needed to prove to him that you trusted him before he would be comfortable. You knew he didn’t always get enough sleep. He tended to have nightmares, but you didn’t mind. You would rather be there to help him through it, than to never know about it, even if that means you wouldn’t sleep throughout the night without interruptions. Waking up seemed less like a chore, when each time you woke up, you had the reminder that your dream self often forgot about, that you were with the most amazing person you had ever met.

You and Bucky had a relaxing night at his apartment watching movies, before you both went to bed, holding each other close. It was a quiet night, and Bucky was sleeping soundly, but you woke up in the middle of the night with blood covering you. You groaned and were frustrated that this had to happen on the night that you were over at his place. You were used to your nose bleeds at this point, but you were always concerned that it was going to happen with Bucky one night, and you’ve been previously lucky enough to avoid it, but it seemed tonight you were considerably less lucky.

You used the light from your phone to try and see how much damage was done to Bucky’s sheets, while trying to stop any more blood from getting anywhere. Thankfully he didn’t wake up from you shining the light, but there was blood all over the pillow you were using. You tried not to get too frustrated, because it’s not like you are capable of going back in time and stopping it from happening, once you clean yourself up and the blood that was now covering your hands, you’d come back and address the stained pillow.

You walked into the bathroom attached to Bucky’s room and tried to stop the bleeding while cleaning the blood off of you. You were absentmindedly making plans to purchase him a new pillow tomorrow, knowing this one was probably ruined from the amount of blood that got on to it.

Bucky turned in his sleep, reaching out to you in his dream filled state to pull you in closer to him, but when he reached over, his hands were only met with the crumpled sheets of the bed. He was confused by your absence which dragged him fully from his sleep. When he opened his eyes to look for you, the first thing he saw was the blood covering the pillow where you were sleeping, and he swore his heart stopped beating. The blood still looked fresh, he didn’t know where you were or what happened, his mind immediately conjuring up the worst possibilities, but he hoped that the fresh blood meant he may still have time to save you. He immediately jumped out of bed, ready for whatever he needed to do to make sure you were safe, but when he got up his instincts were telling him to look at the window to make sure no one broke in, but through his panicked state his eyes were drawn to the light coming from the bathroom he previously didn’t notice.

He hoped that this meant that his panic was an overreaction, but he still prepared himself for the worst. He would rather be pleasantly surprised than devastated.  He walked to the bathroom slowly, “Y/n, are you in there?”

You were surprised when you heard his voice, you hadn’t heard anything that indicated he was awake. Thankfully you were able to stop the bleeding, but hopefully he won't be that upset over his ruined pillow. “Yeah I’m in here.”

You sounded fine through the door, but he still needed to see you to make sure. His heart was still racing, and he knew you were the only person who would be able to slow it down right now.

“Can I come in? Are you okay?”

You opened the door before you offered him a reply. You had been able to clean up all of the blood, but there was still a mountain of bloody tissues in his trash can. He was on edge, his body tense; he was searching your face and body for any injuries and taking in the state of the bathroom as if it was a warzone. You were planning on replying to his previous question after you opened the door, but you were distracted by how concerned and flustered he looked. At the moment you couldn’t make sense of his distressed mood. “Are you okay?”

He sighed slightly, your reply telling him that maybe he was overreacting. “I asked you first, doll. Were you bleeding?”

His words were calmer, but his eyes showed the fear that still lingered. You now realized that he likely woke up to the blood on the pillow and thought the worst. “Yeah, I’m sorry I ruined your pillow, I got a nosebleed in my sleep. I’ll get you a new one I promise.”

You saw the relief flash over his face as he pulled you in for a hug delicately crushing your body against his own. “Thank God, I was so worried. I don’t care about the pillow, just don’t do that to me again.” There was humor in his last statement, obviously aware that you had no control over the situation and wouldn’t be able to stop any future unexpected nosebleeds.

“Sure, Buck, I’ll relay the message to my nose.” You said your voice laced with laughter, as you hugged him back. “But seriously, sorry for worrying you.” You rubbed your hands up and down his back to calm him. You were simultaneously touched by how much he seemed to care and also saddened that you had incited so much fear within him.

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have assumed the worst. I just woke up to you not there and then I saw the blood and I was so scared.”

You pulled back and gave him a kiss. “I would have been scared too. But I’m fine, and we should get back to bed.”

He sighed. “Okay, Doll, I’ll go grab you another pillow out of the closet.”

He started walking away from the bathroom, but he stopped himself, and turned back around to give you another kiss,

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you chuckled slightly at his abnormal behavior, “but I thought you were gonna go get a pillow.”

“I was,” he smirked back at you “but then I realized I needed to make sure you knew that.”  He was obviously still calming himself from the fear he had just felt.

You smiled back at him, “Message received.” You gave him another quick kiss before gently pushing him away “Now go, I’m tired and want to cuddle my sweet and loving boyfriend in bed.”

“What a lucky guy.” He replied smiling back at you before finally walking away, overwhelmed by his adoration of you.

[ikeromantic]

Tease

Ikevamp Leonardo fanfic, occurs after Ch. 10 but before the midpoint in Ch. 11 of the main route. Approx 1500 words. 

This is the smutty version of Little Tease. NSFW!

First: That First Night

Previous: A Little Heat

“So . . . the internet.” Leonardo’s compagna sighed. “I don’t know how else to explain it to you. It’s - it’s like a book. One where there’s an answer for every question but sometimes the answer isn’t true. Or complete. And it’s also a place you can talk to people. And look at pictures. And watch movies.”

“So all of these things live in that little glass case in your purse?” Leo waited intently on his compagna’s reply. She was more willing to give these answers than Sebas. The butler kept tossing out silly concerns like ‘paradox’ and ‘disruptions to the timeline’. Nonsense. It wasn’t as if Leonardo planned to share this knowledge. 

She chewed on her lip, thinking about it before replying. “Sort of? It’s more like, this phone -” she took out the smart phone and held it in front of him, “just shows the page. Like a screen in the movie theater. But the picture - the information - comes from someplace else.”

Leonardo nodded. “That makes sense, but then how is it projected when you move that thing around all the time? And what are all those shiny bits inside?” He remembered vividly what the ‘phone’ looked like when taken apart. Sebastian was not terribly pleased about that experiment, not even after Leo put it back together for him.

“That’s more like, uhm, like radios? Those exist now right? The signals go through the air and the phone receives them.”

“Radios?” Leonardo looked at her expectantly. This was another new thing. Something Sebas, that tight-lipped capra hadn’t mentioned.

His compagna sighed. “I don’t think I should be telling you about all this. It will ruin the surprise!”

“Cara, please. It will be years and years before these things come to pass. And you know all about them now. It is only fair - I answer your one question a day.”

“Barely,” she muttered. Then shrugged and sat back in the big leather chair. “I’m not really good with technical stuff, Leonardo. I can’t really explain how it all works. You could probably just ask Comte to bring back some books or something, next time he uses the door.”

“I could,” he agreed. “But I want to hear you tell me about it first.” Leo grinned from where he sat on the floor. He grabbed her little stocking-clad foot and began to rub circles on her sole. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

She blushed prettily and nodded. “Mmm- mmhmm. Yes.”

The response was just breathy enough to make him feel his own little surge of arousal. But no. No. He was only teasing her - not himself - for both their sake. “Then keep talking or -” he let go of her foot. 

His compagna huffed as if she might argue. But after a moment of her internal battle, she held her foot back out to him. “Alright. Where was I? Radio?”

“Yes, what is that?” Leonardo began stroking her calf this time. Kneading the tense muscles in her leg. 

“Radio is . . . sounds? I guess sounds that get sent through the air to receivers. Like this phone only, not as complex.”

Leo nodded. “That is interesting. But you can’t just hear these sounds? Unless you have a receiver?” He let his hands roam a little higher, but his cara was too involved in her answer to notice when he passed her knee.

“Right! The sounds are there- sound waves, but for radios, it’s radio waves. You have to have a special device to receive them and then put them into a form you can hear with your ear.”

“So this internet, it is like that - invisible waves - of many kinds, not just sound. And it goes to these . . . phones?” Her thighs were like silk, he thought. Soft. Firm. He caught a glimpse of her panties from where he sat. Dainty pink. He didn’t hear her answer his question. He couldn’t stop thinking about what lay under them, and how very close he was.

“Then there are websites. Those are like chapters, if you think of the internet like a giant -” She stopped, inhaling sharply. 

Leonardo realized his hands, clearly acting with a mind of their own, had grazed the lace edge of her panties. 

“W-what are you doing?”

He grinned at her, a slow, warm smile, honey-gold heat. “Giving you a massage. As I said. If you keep talking.” He let his fingers slip under the fabric, brushing lightly over her mound. Was this still teasing? Yes . . . her wide eyes and the blush creeping up her cheeks was proof.

“Ah . . . I, I’m not sure I can . . . with you . . .”

He stopped moving his hand, and raised an eyebrow. “I can stop, cara. If that’s what you want?” 

She leaned her head back against the chair and shut her eyes. “What I want . .”

Leonardo couldn’t help but slide his finger slowly into her downy cleft. It wasn’t a fair tactic, but then, what was fair in love or lust?

“Y-yes - I want - yes,” she moaned. 

That was all the encouragement Leo needed. “Then keep talking, cara mia. Let me hear your sweet voice.” 

He meant sighs or moans, even screams of pleasure, but she took him for his original threat.

“Right. Websites. Like books. No! No, like chapters. If the internet is -” Her toes curled as he began to strum her gently, as if she were a harp and he the player. She was hot to the touch, and already slick. 

“Mmmm. Please, continue.” Leo’s smile was wicked, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to tease her. And more than tease. He found the swollen, little pearl with his fingertips, barely touching. 

“Ah, oh-books!” Her voice rose as she did her best to continue without regard to his touch. “So, you can- can look up books on - on anything. Lots of, I mean web -”

Leonardo’s other hand slid her panties to the side. “On anything, yes? You mentioned that.” He stroked her slowly at first. As if tuning a guitar or a harp - rhythmic, testing for the right sound. 

“Oh god,” she leaned back, her thighs straining to open wider against the arms of the chair. 

Ever helpful, Leo cupped her legs with his free hand and set them on top the sides. He could smell her arousal, and with her spread like this, he could see it too. Though he had not intended to, he leaned forward to taste. His tongue slid easily into her, and she clenched around the sudden intrusion.

The lecture was clearly done. His cara mia moaned, holding a hand over her mouth to silence her pleasure. 

It only enticed Leo to go deeper, to seek more. He buried himself between her legs, his hands on her thighs. She was like liquor, he thought. Rich, and he was drunk on her. He wanted more. The sound of her pulse was wild in his ears as he moved from her core to suckle that hard, sweet pearl. He let go of one of her legs to slide wet fingers into her, still slow, refusing to hurry this moment. 

“L-leo, I - ah!” Whatever she was going to say was lost as she closed her lips to hold in another moan. It escaped with ragged breath. “F-faster, please. Oh, I - I can’t . . .” Her hands grasped his hair, needy, pushing.

He laughed, breathing against her clit. “Don’t rush, cara. Let me enjoy this. And . . . don’t stop your voice. I told you, if I can’t hear you . . . I’ll stop.” The empty threat. He couldn’t stop now, unless she told him to. And her rocking hips begged the opposite. 

Leonardo pressed into her with his long, artist’s fingers. His lips played lightly against her aroused nub, teasing. 

His compagna gave him what he asked for. A moan of pure need, the edge of frustration. 

It was in him to tease her like this for hours, to keep her at the edge of fulfillment until she thought she would go mad and then . . . but no. This was only teasing. Only play. He would not claim her body for his own. 

Leonardo began to speed his thrusting fingers, settling into a fast rhythm with his lips and tongue. It took only a moment more before she bucked beneath him. Her legs closed around his head, locking him against her. Not that he minded. He licked her sweet juices as she came, her soft skin a prison he did not seek release from. 

She finally let him go. Her breath was still too fast, and her cheeks were flushed. 

He sat back, grinning like a cat in cream. 

“I - I can’t believe you.” Her voice was low and raw. She stood and shook out her skirt, straightening her stockings. “I was supposed to - to just tell you about internet.”

“And you did.” Leonardo licked his fingers, unable to help himself. “You can always tell me more tomorrow.”

She gave him a wide-eyed look. Half accusation, half hopeful. The expression made him nervous. Surely, she knew this was all fun. Just play between two adults thrust together for a brief time. That was all it was to him. He ignored the twinge in his heart, the sudden weight on his chest at the thought.

“Maybe,” his cara said at last. “But . . . no more massages. I - I don’t think I can . . .” She looked almost sad. 

Leo raised a hand to her, but she walked past him and out of the library. He felt a sudden surge of guilt. This was why, he thought, I should not be alone with her. I cannot tell myself no. Comte should have given this task to another.

Next: For the Best

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Rapunzel and the Great Tree Part 2

Continuing on with the midseason finale of season two.

Part 1 is here  https://rachelbethhines.tumblr.com/post/628826170657570816/tangled-salt-marathon-rapunzel-and-the-great

Summary: After Adira saves Rapunzel and the group from the hurt incarnation, Cassandra makes her suspicions of Adira known which causes a falling out between her and Rapunzel. Meanwhile Hector uses the dormant power of the tree to try and attack everyone. 

Cassandra’s Motivation Doesn’t Aline With Her Later Actions 

If you’re going to have a character do a complete 180 from her original goal, than you need a better reason than just mommy issues; or validation issues, or career problems, or just simply having a falling out, or jealousy, or a ghost girl whispering in your ear, or whatever the fuck they’re trying to do with Cassandra.  

Going from ‘protect’ to ‘murder’ is a huge moral alignment shift that needed clear and reasonable justification. Cassandra is never given that. Instead they just throw everything at the wall that they can think of in the hope that something sticks. 

Only it never does because her original story was re-written at the last minute.   

Well That Was Pointless

Max and Pascal wind up saving Eugene and Lance from the man eating plant. Which adds nothing to the story. It happens and is then never brought up again. It’s just an excuse to write Eugene out of the Cass and Raps conflict and not an extension of either his or Lance’s own narratives. 

That’s a problem, because Eugene should be a main character and Lance an important supporting side character. Instead Eugene is regulated to side character status while Lance is unimportant comic relief. Not only does this ignore that fact that Eugene was the protagonist of the movie same as Rapunzel, but it also ignores the basic writing rule of ‘don’t add in characters who don’t serve a purpose in the story’. 

Adira Just Saved All of Your Asses, Cass

Boy does Adira put up with a lot of bullshit in this show, and 90% of it comes from Cass being a little bitch. 

She has no biases for this argument. Adira hasn’t done anything to warrant this accusation. In fact she’s proven herself time and time again only for Cass to lash out like a spoilt teenager with an inferiority complex. 

And Cassandra is 23!!!    

The young adults on this show are constantly written like pre-teens while the only actual teenager is constantly forced to be the most mature person in the show. 

It’s mind boggling. 

Rapunzel is In the Right Here, But the Show Wants Us to Sympathize with Cass Instead?

Oh No! Raps raised her voice at Cassandra and made her feel bad, you guys. Feel sorry for the poor paranoid baby who who’s acting like a jealous brat for no reason. 

Bull Shit. 

Cassandra not only has nothing to back up her accusation but the narrative never goes on to prove her right either. Adria is on the up and up, and always had been according to Destinies Collide. For all the show’s efforts to make Cass seem reasonable by having Adira mysteriously pop in and out, it all falls flat once you know where everything is heading. 

Plus, even if she were magically right about Adira that wouldn’t excuse her bossing Rapunzel around and insulting her intelligence. Had she done that to me I’d be telling her something a lot harsher than just to knock it off. 

Oh, But I Thought You Said Flashbacks to Corona Would Be Too Confusing?

So one of the writers, Ricky, has gone on record stating that they did originally have plans to show flashbacks to Corona to show what was going on with Rapunzel’s parents, Varian, and the Saporians. He then said they dropped them because they feared that it would be too confusing for the audience. 

Yet we get this pointless scene thrown into the middle of the mid-season finale. 

And by the looks of it it’s before even Beginnings, or maybe after Beginnings, who knows; so it’s not just a change of scene, it’s also a change in time as well. A point in the timeline that’s not been firmly established enough. So it not only has less reasons to exist then a Varian flashback would, but it’s also potentially more confusing than what a simple single episode set in Corona would have been. 

I don’t know who to blame for this poor decision making, if it’s just Chris, Chris and Ben, or a shared blame with all of the writers, but while the buck does stop with Chris, much of what Ricky has said online doesn’t reflect very well on his writing skills. Cause that’s a huge and utter bullshit excuse. 

So What Does This Add, Exactly?

Cass gives Rapunzel this purse as a gift. A purse that’s not been shown to be all that important before and isn’t made significant again. Then Raps launches into this speech about how good a friend Cass is and how lost she’d be without her. 

I understand what the thought process for this was; it’s to show how far Raps and Cass have grown apart recently and what Cassandra herself liked about being friends with Rapunzel to being with, which was the validation boost of being useful and needed; but there’s a lot of problems with including it here. 

For starters, lack of validation isn’t enough to suddenly switch into ‘kill mode’ which is where all of this is eventually leading.  

Validation shouldn’t be the foundation of any long term relationship and so rather than proving how good of a friend they are to each other, you’ve only given futher reason for why they’re toxic together. 

You needed to be building them up all throughout season one before launching into this break up plot. This scene is too little too late because we’ve spent too many episodes tearing Raps and Cass down for this plot to have the effect that they wanted it to. 

Cassandra is just doing her job. She’s suppose to show Rapunzel around and help her with shit, that’s what a lady in waiting does. Cassandra’s friendship with Rapunzel shouldn’t be so tied to her career trajectory to begin with. Not only is it unhealthy but it then is used to victim-blame Rapunzel for all of Cassandra’s problems. Even though the only thing actually holding Cass back is herself, as proven in season three. 

Timeline Confirmed

So it is indeed six months since Secret of the Sun Drop, give or take a few days to organize stuff before the trip. Meaning we’re now a year out from Before Happily Ever After. I point this out now, in order to prove something later on. 

This Logically Should Have Been the End of the Argument, But the Writers are Dragging Things Out Needlessly 

You know what I hate more than a ‘lack of communication causes drama' trope? Characters taking the time to communicate and still missing the bloody point and not resolving anything. 

Technically, Rapunzel is still in the right. She is an autonomous person capable of making decisions for herself, and Cass does need to get over herself and treat Rapunzel as such and stop getting butt hurt over not being the one in charge. 

But then we have to ruin that message by throwing in this line. 

Like, yes you’re technically in charge here Raps, but making decisions shouldn’t mean walking all over someone's feelings either. Being a leader is just as much about listening as it is about taking charge and neither of these characters understand that yet. 

And they never will, cause the writing for them is shit. 

When I first saw season two I honestly believe that this would tie into Rapunzel’s previous conflicts regarding responsibility and hypocrisy. I thought they had an arc here about learning to balance assertiveness and personal boundaries, with genuine compassion and respect for others. Had they went through with that then this could have been something truly special, but they go and throw it all away come season three. Now its just heartbreak and frustrating to watch. 

Also Stupid ‘Sisters’ Plot Foreshadowing 

More on this later, but just know if you hate the idea of calling Raps and Cass sisters then blame Chris. 

This Song Underlines The Core Problem With Cassandra's Arc

There’s no stakes.

I’ve already discussed at length now about how Cassandra’s goals and motivations are inconsistent, and how her actions don’t line up. But the reason the writers are struggling so hard to find something that fits her, is because the story has grown past her. 

We’ve already seen characters who struggle with poverty, homelessness, neglect/abuse, and oppression. There are now tons of people in the story who are fighting just for survival, and they’re all regulated to either supporting roles, one off appearances, or are background characters. 

So with that in mind what is there to justify Cassandra getting focus over them? What is she struggling with here that deserves more screen time and attention than, Eugene, Varian, Lady Caine, or even Adira? 

Cassandra isn’t poor. She lives well off in the castle and has high ranking connections. She’s not even struggling with a job she hates anymore because we’ve already seen her promoted to the one she wanted by this point.  

Cassandra isn’t homeless, she once again lives in the castle and if she chooses to leave she has plenty of opportunities waiting for her, as evidenced by Goodbye and Goodwill and Beginnings. Plus she’s shown to be capable of supporting herself both in this season and the next.  

Cassandra isn’t oppressed. She can leave anytime she wants to. She can defy the king's orders in SotSD because she’s the princesses’s bestie. She doesn’t face jail or hanging just because she and Raps has a fight now and then. 

The only thing going for her is possibly neglect/abuse, but that’s not been introduced into the story yet and isn’t what she’s discussing here. It also contradicts what was previously established between her and Cap in season one when it does come into play. 

Validation Alone is Not Enough to Connect With Most of the Audience 

Even the stanchest of Cassandra supporter often has to heavily project onto her in order to connect with her. Which isn’t a bad thing in of itself. Everyone projects to some degree or other when exploring media, that’s part of being human. But the problem is that because she’s so thinly written you’re left with little else but projection. And so you’ll hear excuses like, well she’s fighting the class system, she’s an abuse survivor, or she deserves to lash out over not getting what she wants when she’s worked so hard for it. But none of those excuses are actually presented on screen. 

Cassandra doesn’t fight against the class system. If she did she would be fighting for everyone. She’d be singing about everyone’s problems not just her own. 

Cassandra’s past abuse is just slapped on at the last minute and then disregarded when convenient. It doesn’t actually factor into the decisions she makes later on.  

Also, you don’t deserve anything just because you ‘work hard’ nor because you just really, really want it. 

It’s that point that I really take issue with. 

On the surface Cassandra should be the most relatable person in the show. I mean what young adult or teen living in this post apocalyptic nightmare of a capitalist dystopia not ever felt disappointed over not getting the job they wanted or not being given enough positive validation while crushed underneath mounting unrealistic expectations. It’s the main reason why so many of her supporters are teenagers and LGBT+. 

But all of those worries stem from something deeper than just a lack of positive reinforcement. 

You know why I had to give up on my career as an animator?

It didn’t pay benefits. 

I had medical issues and needed health insurance, but since most animation is commissioned and/or contract based, particularly if you live/work on the east coast, then you’re not going to get that most of the time. And this is after spending the majority of my time in college homeless, living out of my car, crashing on friends and families couches. I did this for three fucking years because I didn’t want to wind up in a textile mill or a carpet factory like everyone I else knew growing up, and I was told my whole life that if I went to school and worked hard enough I could have a well paying job that I enjoyed and got me away from my abusive home life. 

People like me, we’re bitter over not getting the jobs we wanted or the support we needed, not because we believe we’re special and therefore deserve it or some such bullshit, but because our very lives are dependent upon it! We’re victims of a class system that lets you starve if you don't find work. Where you’ll be trapped in abusive situations cause you can’t afford a home on your own. Where simply being yourself can be dangerous as there are people who vocally want to deny us rights and even kill us. 

Cass is an entitled whiny brat in canon because she doesn’t have any of those underlying issues. She doesn’t face real discrimination, oppression, poverty, or the looming threat of death hanging over her. She’s just throwing a temper tantrum. 

Once Again Adira is Saving Your Butt Cass

Adira is quickly becoming one of my favorite characters in the marathon. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate her more when I first watched the show. 

Also, I’m Sorry I Didn’t Recognize the Awesomeness That Is Hector Until Now Either.

Like this is a good conflict. They both have legitimate reasons for what they do. They’re both in the right here. That’s what makes them interesting. 

They’re both fighting for something. They’re home and the belief that they can fix things, vs the fate of the world and their loyalty to both the cause and their family. All on top of having their own relationship issues. 

Hector so should have been the main villain of season two, because he just has the most reason to be opposed to the mains’ goal. 

That’s more than whatever Cass and Raps are fighting about. The only thing at stake there is their friendship, which isn’t that big of deal when you compare it to the lives and safety of billions of people. 

Plus Hector’s just flat out entertaining. 

Why is Everybody Just Standing Around Doing Nothing Here?

Fucking do something you lugnuts!!!

You’re all capable fighters. You’ve all taken down much harder enemies than one lone guy and two bearcats. Why aren’t you helping Cass fight back? Or heck, if you wanted Cass to face Hector alone then have her be a distraction so that the others can escape. Anything but having them just stand there and be useless!

Yet Again I Have to Ask Why Should Cass Care? 

Or rather why should the audience care? 

Cass isn’t a lady in waiting just because some random jerk who's already taunting her and trying to kick her ass calls her such. Hector’s not from Corona and has no knowledge of Cassandra’s life beyond what he may have heard repeated by Adiria (who is also not from Corona) or what Cass herself said in her very metaphorical song.  Nor does either them have a say in how Cass’s career goes. 

If you want to push the narrative that Cass is still a lady-in-waiting and a maid, despite having earned Cap’s approval and being appointed by the king to guard Rapunzel, then you damn well need to establish that among the mains. 

Or you know, stop trying to go back on what you’ve set up in season one. 

So How Is This Suppose To Work?

So from the backstory that we get on both the Tree and Zhan Tiri herself, this shouldn’t happen. Like Zhan Tiri is currently trapped in another dimension and according to season three she has no possession powers herself. 

Now the tree itself is said to be sentient and that Zhan Tiri took control of it, but how? How is a tree sentient? Why is it sentient? How did Zhan Tiri bend it to her will? Why is it still under her control while she’s been trapped in another dimension for hundreds of years? Why and how does the spear keep it dormant? Why does the tree itself have possession powers when Zhan Tiri has none? Is there any connection between this Great Tree and the cursed tree that was suppose to free Zhan Tiri back in Painter’s Block? If so then why are these things never brought back into play during season three? 

Give me answers damn it! 

Now This is a Good Conflit, Shame It’s Never Resolved 

Both have valid reasons to do what they do. Both are neither right nor wrong. Both however wind up getting in the way of each other because neither will listen or trust the other. 

Rapunzel thinks that this will stop Hector, and she is right it does, but more importantly she chooses this route because it gives everyone else a chance to run away. The problem is that she can’t control it, but from her point of view that’ll only put her and Hector at risk if everyone else will just do as she says and leaves. 

Cassandra thinks the spear will stop it because it’s done so before, and that’s a logical assumption. It also means that Rapunzel herself won’t be in any danger, though the others might. Cass can’t free everyone at once like Rapunzel can. It’ll also be a threat to herself, and there’s the risk that tree will stop her before she can deal the final blow.  

So what’s happening on a personal level is that Rapunzel thinks taking charge means that everyone needs to follow her say without question. Cassandra thinks Rapunzel should listen to her more, not because Rapunzel needs to listen better in general, but because she doesn’t feel Rapunzel is mature enough to make big decisions and that she herself should be in charge of the group. Both girls feel superior to the other and above other people as well, because they’re convinced they’re always right. 

Had this been the actual conflict that they went with in season three, had they actually had both characters held accountable for their actions and learn something, and hadn’t dragged innocent people into their bullshit with so much as a ‘by your leave’ or ‘I’m sorry’; then this might have been a decent story. Perhaps not as impactful as Varian’s, but still meaningful, thoughtful, and well, coherent. 

But that’s not what they did, and we’ll see no real resolution to this disagreement. 

So Why Is No One Affected By the Hurt Incantation This Time?

Eugene here was injured by the tree earlier, that’s why he’s past out, but everyone else remains unharmed by Rapunzel’s singing. Even though just last episode everyone around her were dying from it, and again in the season finale everyone dies from said incantation. But here and in Rapunzel’s Return, Rapunzel can use the incantation without harming anyone nearby so, how does that work? 

Some people have suggested that when Rapunzel focuses her hair on a target like the tree here or the amber later, that it doesn’t spread to other people, but that’s never stated on screen so it’s still a flaw. 

 Well This Goes Nowhere 

I think the writers just like throwing in shocking ‘twists’ and moments like this just for the sake of looking edgy and ‘deep’ but then they never actually follow through on the impact of such moments on the characters nor consider the more troubling implications of including them. 

I grew up on Gargoyles, Batman the Animated Series, the 90s X-Men Cartoon, and The Pirates of Dark Water. I’ve seen far more shocking and edgy stuff than this when I was six years old. In many ways the american animated tv landscape has regressed since the early 2000s when it comes to more mature cartoons, and no that’s not a complaint about modern cartoons being bad; some are good some are bad, just like its always been; but that culturally we’ve shied away more from darker moments like this and we’ve having to push for them all over again in media.   

But the difference between Tangled and those 90s cartoons I’ve mentioned is that Tangled’s darker moments are misplaced. It clashes horribly with the more comedic route that the series usually takes and as such they don’t get the focus that they need too. 

After season two is done, Cass’s hand will never be mentioned again. It does not tie into her later motivations at all nor influences her actions. Throughout the series she’ll be able to use it easily without consequence. We don't even get any on screen confirmation if it’s healed by grabbing the moonstone, by the sundrop incarnation in the finale, or if she just forever has a burnt arm. That’s how little importance it is to the story. 

This Also Goes Nowhere

Hector calls out this warning but it’s then never followed up on. Adira is proven not to be a liar at all and nobody in the group is actually doomed. Yes the wider world is put in jeopardy, but that’s Cass’s fault not Adira’s. 

The writers were too focused on making Adira the red herring for Cassandra that they forgot to make her an actual person, with wants, feelings, desires, goals, and a life beyond her mission. She’s never shown helping her family and barely interacts with them, she’s never given a reason for why she keeps disappearing, and the idea that she’s doing this to save her home is just supposition on my part because otherwise she has no reason. The series never gives us one. 

And ‘Destiny’ Is Not A Fucking Reason!!!

Oh, So Adira Will Help Hector But Not Quirin or Varian?

If Hector and Adira consider each other siblings because they’re both in the Brotherhood, than logically Adira would consider Quirin her brother as well, and Varian would be her nephew. 

She was around long enough to see the final battle in SotSD. That’s why she appears at the end of that episode, how she knows Rapunzel is the sundrop and has ‘seen her power’, and how she knows that the group has met both Quirin and Varian before now. 

She knows that Quirin is trapped in amber. She knows her nephew has been arrested by a kingdom with a poor track record of punishing orphaned teens and poor people with overly harsh sentences. So why didn't she do anything there? 

We find out during season three that the black rocks can cut through the amber, and its established that Adira’s sword can cut through the rocks, so clearly she didn’t even try to save Quirin has just given him up for dead. But there’s no reason why she couldn’t have broken Varian out of the prison and taken her with him. 

In fact Adira hiding Varian from the rest of the group during season two would have been an actual reason for her disappearance and an actual reason not to trust her. That would have upped the stakes and given Cass reasons for what she does. Plus more time for Varian’s redemption, more chances to call out Rapunzel and Fredric on their BS, and ties seasons one and two together better. 

Seriously leaving Varian out of season two was the dumbest decision in television. Putting Varian back in actually fixes everything in the show. 

The Real Reason for the Burnt Hand is a Costume Change for Cass

I don’t know if she even got merchandise for this costume.   

Conclusion 

Much like season one’s arc episodes, The Great Tree held a lot of promise that was then completely wasted by season three. It’s also one of the very few episodes in the season to have actual stakes and conflict so it easily jumps to the top of the pile. But what it sets up is then never resolved or expounded upon, making it a waste. 

Next up we’ll have the mid season recap. 

[twst-roses]

Lover’s Games: Rook

[sparklydreamies]

Stray Kids 8 Part Series ~ (1) Bang Chan: Perfection

Group: Stray Kids

Member: Bang Chan

Genre: Light angst + hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,300+

Summary: Bang Chan can’t afford to take breaks in this industry. 

Stray Kids 8 Part Series MASTERLIST

A/n: This is the beginning of an 8 part Stray Kids hurt/comfort series!! I hope that you will all enjoy this a lot :) also writing this sort of theme about Chan absolutely killed me because this man deserves the entire world ;-;

TW: This story contains a descriptive anxiety attack.

Through the blurry, sleepy view his eyes gave him, Bang Chan could barely make out the small, digital clock on his desk that read 3:14. He groaned softly as he resumed his work on what was soon to be Stray Kids’ next title track. 

Normally, Chan considers himself a person who is able to work fast and diligently at the same time, which often comes in handy in an industry that demands perfection. Yet, as he sat slouched in his desk chair, fiddling with his laptop to try and create a proper bass line, he began to feel pressured. 

For a producing idol, having writer’s block was a death sentence. Nothing had the power to overwhelm Chan with the heavy feeling of anxiety like a deadline for a demo due at the end of the week which has barely been started.

It’s not that the song hasn’t been started, it’s that it has been started and restarted too many times to count after Chan deemed the previous draft unacceptable. Chan’s standards for himself might seem overkill to some people, but Chan calls it being a perfectionist. 

Everyone, including Bang Chan knows that real perfection was not possible for a man to achieve, however that didn’t stop Chan from striving for it. In a way, it was a blessing and a curse. Being a perfectionist meant that Chan was never finished with anything until he was one hundred percent proud of it. This demo was not an exception. 

As Chan listened to the basic beats he had recorded already, he began to drift out of consciousness. 

He had to finish the track. He was so tired. Maybe if he took a twenty minute nap he would feel better. No, he would just end up sleeping all night. Wake up. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.

He was yanked out of his dreamy state by the harsh sound of his phone vibrating on his desk. He took a second to gather his surroundings before checking the text message sent to him. 

Changbinnie: Where are you?

Chan groaned. Changbin has been on his ass all week about taking care of himself as if he was made of glass. Changbin should know that this was how Chan worked. He always pushes himself to his breaking point and faces the brink of exhaustion in order to create the best music he could. There was no other way for him to make music. 

Channie: Studio

Chan cracked his back against his chair before getting back to work. It was only three in the morning, which was hardly late enough for Chan to admit defeat and give into his drooping eyelids. 

He didn’t get it. Music always came so easily to him. All of the lyrics he tried to write sounded too awkward for his liking. All of the beats were too overdone and basic. He was frustrated and tired, and far too busy to deal with Changbin’s nagging. 

Sure, Chan hasn’t been around for many meals during the past few days. Lord knows he hasn’t seen the inside of the dorm in three days straight unless it was to shower and change. Chan scoffed thinking of how he would react if it was one of the other members working to this extent. He would physically restrain them to their beds if that was necessary. He was different, though. He was the leader and the eldest. He didn’t have the time to worry about himself. He was responsible for all of their careers. He could handle a little bit of extra work. 

His hands were shaking slightly as he recorded another chord progression for the pre-chorus. At this point, Chan didn’t even know if they were shaking from exhaustion or from the sheer amount of caffeine he had coursing through his system. 

Chan let out another exasperated noise of defeat as he listened to the choppy way the verse led into the pre-chorus. He felt the frustration take right to his heart. His head was pounding, and he gripped the strands of his hair to ground himself. 

He was okay. He had pulled songs out of his ass before, he could do it now. It was going to be fine. Maybe if he added a lead-up sound into the pre-chorus, things would flow nicer. 

Why did he feel his eyes filling up with tears? He had no time to feel sorry for himself. Nothing was working out, and crying about it wouldn’t change the fact that his head was completely empty of original song ideas. 

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands before focusing again on the track in front of him. 

He hadn’t even started on the lyrics. 

The sense of panic was far too strong, and his mind was screaming for him to buck up, focus harder, create something that was acceptable. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts again by the sound of his studio door opening. 

“You’re going to kill yourself, I hope you know,” Changbin said quietly as he made his way over to his usual chair beside Chan. 

Chan tried to give a somewhat interested look to the younger rapper, but all he could manage was a slight head nod. He was still focused on the colourful lines of beats and chords on his laptop. He refrained from looking directly at the younger boy, not wanting to show any signs of the intense feelings that crushed his chest. 

“Jesus christ, you actually look like shit,” Changbin grabbed Chan’s chin gently and brought his gaze towards away from the track which was causing so much grief, “why are you doing this?” Chan’s gaze remained unfocused, looking at nothing in particular.

Chan took a second to process what he was saying. Why was he doing this? Because it was his job. Because the company, the members and the fans were all waiting for him to do his job properly. 

He wanted to say all of that, but what came out from his lips was “I have to”.

“That’s bullshit,” Changbin said, “I’ve been warning you about taking care of yourself-- Chan you’re shaking”. He moved to grab a hold of Chan’s trembling fingers. “You haven’t been eating, you haven’t been sleeping, you are a shell of yourself, and for what?” 

“For our jobs, Binnie” Chan pulled his hands away from the other boy, turning himself back towards the screen. He didn’t want the younger to see the fresh pool of salty tears threatening to fall down his cheeks without consent. 

Changbin sighed. “You’re more important than a deadline. You know that, right?” 

“What do you want me to do?” Chan asked, “I'm okay”. His voice was reduced to nothing more than a whisper. 

Chan didn’t need to look over to know that Changbin was thoroughly upset. Whether it was with him or the company, Chan didn’t know. All he knew was that when something upset Changbin, the aura of the room shifted. The air felt heavy and thick. 

“I’m worried about you,” Changbin said, placing his hand on Chan’s shoulder. The older boy involuntarily flinched at the unexpected contact. “I woke up in the middle of the night to see that you aren’t in your bed again, and I just don’t know what to do anymore,”

“Don’t”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be worried about me,” Chan swiveled in his chair to finally meet Changbin’s gaze for the first time that night, “it’s not your issue,” He was expecting frustration, anger or fury, but he was startled when all he could read in his brother’s eyes was shock and sadness.

“You don’t...” he trailed off, “you don’t sound like yourself...” Changbin slowly raised himself out of his chair. He was avoiding Chan’s eyes. 

“All you’re doing is distracting me,” Chan accused, “I can handle myself, I don’t need you worrying about me like my mother,” 

Changbin’s entire body was stiff. He looked uncomfortable, like he was trying to figure out what to say, but couldn’t. 

Why couldn’t he see that this was what Chan needed? Why couldn’t he see that this was best? Why did he have to stick his nose in everybody’s business like he has any say in their activities? 

“You should leave now,” Chan said coldly, “I have to get back to work,” 

Changbin hesitated for a moment, seemingly mulling over what his next words should be. 

“You’re upset that you are having trouble with a song... Big deal,” Changbin said, still quietly, but with so much more bite to his tone, which shocked Chan. “We have an entire group of kids at home who need their leader. You think that they don’t feel anxious these days? We all feel stressed, Chan” 

“Bin-” 

“These children look up to you because you’re a damn good leader,” Changbin began moving anxiously around the room, “they see their... role model throwing his health away for a song, and they think that should be the standard. It is sick, and it shouldn’t have to go that far,” 

Chan felt the pressure in his head return at the words Changbin was saying. “You don’t have any right to bring them into this--”

“You know I found out Jeongin’s been skipping meals?” Changbin’s voice was steadily rising. His face was darkening with frustration that was hidden earlier.

Chan sat in stunned silence. Jeongin has been skipping meals? For how long? Why didn’t Chan realize this before? Was he sick? Did he need a councelor? Was he self conscious? 

Before Chan got a chance to ask any of these questions, Changbin continued on his rant. 

“All of the kids are stressed because that’s what happens before a comeback! I don’t give a damn if you want to ruin yourself for your music, because I get it. I do too. But I am not going to let you create a bad example for the kids. I can’t and I won’t,” 

Chan finally found the strength in his legs to stand up and look at Changbin face to face. He could see that Changbin was furious by the fire in his eyes and the red colour that was taking over his skin. 

“You have no right how to tell me to live, you don’t know what being the leader is like!” Chan snapped, shoving his finger into Changbin’s rapidly rising and falling chest, “I am doing this for the kids, okay?” 

“If you honestly cared about them,” Changbin shoved Chan back away from him, causing the leader to stumble before gaining his balance on his desk chair, “you would make sure that they knew their health always comes first. This is a dangerous game, Chan! And sooner or later you are going to lose,”

“I think you should leave,” Chan said for the second time that night. He had enough. This was all so that Stray Kids could be the best group they can be, yet Changbin is acting like Chan is a maniac for being a perfectionist. 

Changbin was stunned. “Be that way.” he mumbled before ultimately leaving the studio. Before ultimately leaving Chan alone. 

The moment the door clicked shut behind the younger boy, Chan muffled his screams of frustration with his hands. The tears that have been on edge for a while now began streaming down his face, making tracks that felt like they burned the soft skin. 

He was mad. No, mad was an understatement. He was upset. Furious. Angry. Pissed off. Hysterical. Any of those synonyms could describe the feelings that Chan felt. His head was pounding, and the pressure was back worse than ever. 

He felt guilty because Changbin was right. He didn’t even notice that Jeongin wasn’t eating. He didn’t deserve to be a leader. He should quit. He should go to the company and tell them he failed. 

Chan began pacing around the room, suddenly feeling like the walls were too small. 

His gaze fell on the small, white laptop that was causing his pain, and he felt white hot anger and frustration. With a cry of anguish, he slammed the screen shut. 

He pulled at his hair so forcefully he wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped from his scalp. His chest felt so tight. 

The laptop. He shut it so hard... What if he shattered the screen? With a whimper, he raised the screen up to see that it was still in good condition. The contents of the screen however, were not. 

Chan felt the air leave his lungs when he saw he got bounced out of the software. He felt like his world was crashing down around him. 

With shaky hands, he moved the mouse to open the software again. Chan prayed to whatever deity there was up there that he didn’t just lose all of the progress that he most definitely didn’t press save for. 

The one attempt of a song that Chan didn’t hate ended up deleting from his laptop, never to fully develop into a proper song. 

That was the final straw for Chan. 

All at once, it seemed like the Earth’s supply of oxygen vanished. His hands flew desperately to his hair in an attempt to pull himself out of the spiral he was in. 

He was full on sobbing, clutching his knees to his chest once his legs gave out from under him. He struggled for breath on his studio floor. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep so bad. 

It felt like his body was being compressed, and he didn’t know how to save himself. He felt hopeless and weak, crying over some stupid lost progress. His world was shattering. 

Your work is gone.

Changbin hates you.

Jeongin isn’t eating because of you.

The members don’t want you as their leader.

The fans know you’re a fraud.

You’re a horrible idol.

You don’t deserve to be here.

These thoughts were ringing in Chan’s ears, bouncing around his skull. Chan cried out again, burying his face into the carpet, trying to breathe. 

He needs help, but he doesn’t deserve it. He brought this on himself, and now he’s actually compelled to inconvenience another person with this. The track was gone, his members hated him, and he was broken. 

Chan’s entire forehead was slick with sweat, and he felt his body tremble. He was a weak, worthless fool. He was clawing at any part of him that he could. He felt so weak and alone, sobbing his heart out on the floor. 

He didn’t know exactly how long he spent curled up in a ball beside his desk before he was able to calm his heart rate down enough to process thoughts. He needed someone. He needed someone badly, but the weight of shame kept him seated against the wall. 

He wanted to call Changbin and apologize so badly, but with how immature and selfish he had been acting, Chan didn’t deserve the kindness and support the younger boy would inevitably give him. The guilt of how he treated the other boy began to eat away at the shame. 

With a spinning head, Chan hoisted himself upwards enough to grab his phone from the top of his desk. The time on the screen read 4:53, and Chan desperately hoped that Changbin was still awake. 

Without hesitating enough to psyche himself out, Chan pressed the “call” icon, and waited. He tried to slow down his breathing enough so that Changbin wouldn’t know he was crying. 

“What do you want?”

Chan was startled at Changbin’s greeting, almost stuttering his response. “I... I’m sorry,” was all that Chan could manage to say. 

“You should be,” 

Chan cringed at the bitterness in the other’s voice, but remained calm. “Can you come?” Chan’s voice was shaking slightly, and there was a beat of silence from the other end of the line. 

“Are you crying?” 

“No,” Chan denied, biting down on his closed fist in a sad attempt to stifle the sounds that were threatening to escape from his throat.

“Are you okay? Fuck I was almost home, but I’m coming back, okay? Just wait for me,” 

Chan felt another set of hot tears trail down his cheeks, which sucked because he thought he didn’t have any more tears left in him. He wanted Changbin to come back to him, but not because he was afraid that Chan couldn’t handle simple emotions. “Okay,” he answered, and as soon as he felt the tightness in his throat, he hung up the call. Changbin didn’t need to hear him sob. 

Chan felt himself start to slip into his spiral again, and slapped himself in the cheeks. He needed it to ground himself. 

Just breathe. 

Chan counted all of the breaths that he took until Changbin came. He tensed up once he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and a face next to his. He was expecting Changbin to be mad, however the boy keeps surprising him. 

There were faint wrinkles of worry on Changbin’s forehead as he held a serious gaze with the blubbering boy in front of him. His touch was irritating to Chan, who shrugged the hand off his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” Changbin whispered, trying to meet Chan’s eyes. 

Chan raised his eyes. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, sniffling and rubbing the tears away from his abused and stinging eyes. Changbin didn’t have anything to apologize for; it was Chan who was stupidly self-destructive. 

Changbin moved so that he was sitting beside Chan, his back against the studio wall. “I was too harsh. I should have been more patient, I know you’re stressed,” he sighed. Of course Changbin had to be an angel. 

“You... you were right,” Chan admitted. 

“Bang Chan? Admitting I’m right?” Changbin teased, “that’s a first,”

Chan playfully shoved Changbin, and then moved to rest his head on the younger’s shoulder. The atmosphere was lighter now that Changbin was there to relieve the pain. 

“I should have been a better leader,” Chan whispered, “I’m sorry,” 

Changbin surely didn’t miss the way his voice faltered at the end of his statement. Chan felt his eyes get heavier, the post-panic attack fatigue getting to him. 

“You’re a fucking amazing leader,” Changbin replied, “I’m sorry for being harsh. Although I am not sorry about telling you off for setting a bad example because I know that you can do better,”

“’S fair,” Chan slurred. 

“Look at me,” Chan gave a half-hearted, half-interested moan, “Christopher, I said look at me,” Changbin commanded, grabbing Chan’s chin and bringing it to his face, “You are perfect.” 

Chan searched Changbin’s eyes for lies, but was met with nothing but the sincerity of a best friend. 

“You are perfection. And I know that whatever you end up doing is going to be perfect,” 

Chan smiled at his friend. Even though he could be annoying and naggy, Changbin was always there to pick him up. He was always able to wipe the dirt off of your face when you fell from the high. He didn’t pass judgments. 

Chan was stuck in his thoughts until the realization of his reality hit him like a freight train. “Fuck,” he said as he pulled his face away. 

“What?”

“The song...” he said, grasping at his desk until he was in a standing position and opening his laptop again. 

Changbin stood up too and sighed. “I thought you were going to take it easier from now on,” he whined.

“Fuck no, Changbin,” he said, tiredness still evident in his tone, “it’s gone,”

“It’s gone?” Changbin pulled his seat beside Chan, focusing on the newly opened blank track Chan started. 

Chan just nodded as he tried to remember how the song goes. Okay, it was 120bpm tempo... What were the chords that made up the verse? What was the instrument? How did the beat go? 

Chan groaned in frustration as he racked his brain. 

“We’ve done this before,” Changbin shoved Chan so that he could get a better view of the laptop. 

“Huh?” 

“You, me and Jisung,” Changbin looked concentrated, “we’ve produced songs in hours. I’m sure we could get something done if we worked together,”

Chan smiled, probably for the first time in days. “I would like that a lot,” he said gratefully. 

It was then that Chan realized that maybe some some people could be perfect after all. 

[capricornus-rex]

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (8)

Chapter 8: Ensnared | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: Hi guys, I’m happy that you’re enjoying the story so far! But I have to let you know that I’ll be in a quick pause from publishing chapters for a while because I have to drop off my laptop in the shop again to have my new SSD put in (because I don’t know how to do it myself). They said it might take five working days, but that will still depend on my place in line. So this might be the last chapter for now, but I hope I get this baby back soon!

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927​

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Part 7 | Next: Part 9 | Masterlist

9 of ?

“Hey, Irele, I got a job for us!” the Twi’lek boy, Frelik, panted as he supported himself on the arch of their door, as if he came sprinting from the town to their house in the salt flats.

“For who? Where? When!?” Irele bombarded back, and luckily Frelik answered all questions.

Irele looked over his shoulder, he had reached her house using the sand skimmer that all five of them worked together on. She told them to wait, hurried back inside, jumping to the floor from the first landing of the stairs to the rotunda and sprinted to her bedroom. She was all over the place—flashing from one side of the room to the other, swiping her pack with her tools and her scarf lying in different spots.

“I’m going out!” she announced in a voice loud enough for Owen and Beru to hear, wherever they were, and there was no time for either husband or wife to respond. They just heard the door whiz open and then shut.

Another wrangling job with her friends. It was a normal day, but it was something she enjoyed.

They’ve traveled about ten miles east of Mos Espa. The skimmer did its job, it resembles perhaps a smaller rendition of the complementary hovercraft that comes with a sail barge. Through his binoculars, Frelik spotted a cluster of brown speckles in the sand—a Bantha herd, he had found. Their quarry.

“Drello, full speed ahead!” cried out the tan-skinned Twi’lek to the human male. The boy cranked the lever of the motor and they pulled forward.

They stopped their skimmer in a safe distance, atop a small hill that overlooks the Banthas gathered around a watering hole—a rare sight in this planet. After peering through the lens, Frelik handed the binoculars to no one in particular, Irele took it out of his hands.

“Those aren’t domesticated, alright,” she panned slightly to her right. “We can slide our way down there. We’ll have enough cover so they won’t be startled by us.”

Before they got themselves on the move, Irele scanned the area for any signs of Tusken Raiders. It was not uncommon to have a run-in with Tuskens who were also trying to wrangle up mounts for their numbers; should that happen, the most logical—and only—move is to try your luck for another herd. A group of adult Tuskens versus a small band of children are in no good odds whatsoever.

“We’re clear. We’re the only ones here,” she reassured then returned the binoculars to Frelik. They sprinted back to the skimmer to retrieve their sleds and boards.

“I’m gonna ruin your win streak today, Irele!” prided Drello.

She clapped back after pulling her goggles down and smirked, “We’ll see about that!”

The children ran to the edge of the slope, the Twi’lek siblings shared a sled, Heeda—the other human female besides Irele—had her own sled that can only fit her. Golden blonde and sandy brown tinted the girl’s hair, and a bright-eyed face that proves her to be the youngest of the group, being only a year behind Irele.

A trail of sand plumed as they zipped down. It was a collective skill for them to resist squealing and cheering in delight as they slide down a two- to three-mile long sand slide. Irele and Drello surfed with a quiet confidence in the middle of this friendly competition between the two of them; sweving and leaving snake-trails along the sand, as one overtook the other.

Show off! Said each teenager in their heads, referring to the other.

Only a few meters remain before the group lands on flat grounds. They hopped out of their rides and hurried behind the rocks.

“I thought you were gonna beat my streak, Drello?” jeered Irele.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever!” the boy chide, and the girl snickered under her breath.

Another cautionary look through the lens before they approach the herd and then they scrambled to their positions. For every job they took together, there was always a harmony amongst them, a testament to their three to four years of friendship forged by their odd job life.

As always, Irele was in charge of the actual wrangling—along with Drello and Frelik. The two other girls’ jobs were to tranquilize the animals should any of them escape or refuse to be mounted.

The three vaulted over the rocks, leaving Heeda and Venee—Frelik’s sister—behind. Producing ropes out of their packs as they prowled quietly in the Banthas’ blind spots. Given the beast’s width, the children are practically invisible if they stay directly behind them. They became slower when they crept slower, the ropes primed into a lasso. In all their years in practice of this dangerous trade, they’ve mastered how to cleanly hoop the rope around the Bantha’s thick, spiraling horns.

A solid tug indicated that their ropes have rung around the base of the horns, they jumped onto the giants’ backs. Drello’s Bantha bucked its massive head, attempting to wriggle the rope off. Unfortunately, the boy had caught perhaps a more aggressive one than the rest of the herd; and to add insult to injury, his ropes have tangled around his leg and a few strands of the Bantha’s fur caught along with it.

“Drello, hold on!”

“Irele!” Drello yelped. “HELP!”

“Stay still!”

Seeing the trouble from their post, Heeda and Venee primed their dart guns.

“Wait for my signal, Heeda,” Venee warned. Fives seconds when they saw a clear shot, “Now!”

Two darts charged with a strong dosage of tranquilizer pierced their way through the Bantha’s curtain of fur and thick hide. The girth of the needle was thick enough to penetrate the animal’s skin. Drello’s Bantha seemed to have slowed down and the boy finally won some control over the beast.

“Troublemaker, are ya?! I’ll sell you to the first butcher I see in town!” grumbled a vexed Drello.

“Aw come on, don’t be like that!”

“What? He was the one who tried to buck me off while my leg’s caught in the rope,”

“Maybe he doesn’t like you,” Frelik suggested jokingly and the rest of the children giggled in agreement.

For the Banthas who didn’t put up much of a fight and were tamer, Irele suggested strapping their skimmer to the beasts.

“Since they got ropes around their horns anyway, we can just tie the other end on the winch!” she suggested, and everyone loved the fun idea.

There were no objections from her friends. In fact, they were all in on it! Heeda and Venee wanted to the ride bareback on the Bantha while the other three would sit in the skimmer. All five teenagers giggled in excitement and delight as their idea is about to be put into play, until Irele’s smile vanished, she flinched when she felt a needle prick the back of her shoulder.

“This is PG-957, target has been found and marked.” a sinister, muffled voice spoke through his comlink gauntlet.

No one noticed the tiny dart that had landed in her shoulder, but she easily swatted it off like it was some kind of debris. Little did she know that the tiny bullet that hit her packed such a punch. In her easterly side, she saw two distant figures calling out to her. The first figure waved a piece of cloth to get her attention, the second cupped their mouth with their hands to amplify their voice.

Irele!! Come quick!

“Hey, Irele, what’s wrong?” Frelik asked as he noticed his friend has suddenly gotten quiet.

“Smoke?” she muttered under her breath.

She squinted her eyes, sheltered her head with her scarf and confirmed that a pillar of smoke was in the distance as the Banthas pulled their skimmer.

“Do you see that?” she asked to no one in particular.

“See what?”

“That! That column of smoke over there!”

Frelik and Drello exchanged confused glances, and then back to Irele who had her back turned to them.

She squinted again, the two figures appeared to have gotten closer to where they are, and she could hear their voices.

IRELE, HURRY, IT’S YOUR FAMILY!!

“My home!” she bursts.

“Whoa, hey, Irele, where are you going!?” Drello tried to stop her by grabbing her sleeve but she slipped away.

Irele literally jumped out of a moving skimmer, taking her things with her as well.

“Irele, hey! Come back!” Heeda screeched.

“Where is she going!?” Venee exclaimed.

“There’s nothing over there!” Frelik insisted to his friend as he—along with his companions—watched her sprint into the distant nothingness.

Irele sprinted as fast as she could, those two figures materialized into a pair of older human males. Her friends literally lost her in the desert just when they were about to make their way back to Mos Espa, where they client awaits.

“I can’t see her anymore! Frelik, can you!?”

The Twi’lek growled in frustration, “No, she went straight into the storm!”

“Is she crazy!?” his sister protested.

“We have to go after her!” Heedra insisted.

“We’re not equipped for a sandstorm, Heeda, we can’t turn around. We have to get back to town and get shelter!” Drello argued.

They have no choice. They continued in their original path but they wordlessly promised that they’d come back for her.

Irele followed the direction of the smoke, knowing that it’s coming from the homestead. The adrenaline made her forget the aching of her legs, exhausted from running. She cared not if her friends didn’t believe her, her vision narrowed to the direction of her house. She didn’t even notice that the two males she followed were out of her sight.

The tower of black smoke got bigger as she closed the distance further. At the top of her parched lungs, she cried out for her family.

“OWEN!! BERU!!” she screeched.

She caught sight of her homestead in flames—or so she thinks—the dirty white dome of her house was charred black, a gaping hole put into the front door, the machines in their rotunda had been blown up, and tattered rags scattered across the front of the house.

“No…” she gasped. “NO!! OWEN! BERU! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

She repeated these three names, but an answer did not come.

Irele… a voice called to her.

“Owen!?”

Irele… do not fight it. It instructed her. It was a deep, ominous voice, and after the last word, a sharp robotic breath followed.

She recognizes that voice anywhere. She’s heard it in her nightmares, during the nights where she cannot sleep.

“No… No… Bring them back!” she cried.

She did not know it was an illusion. The sniper who had planted the needle into her flesh had followed the girl aimlessly going into an incoming sandstorm.

Poor Irele spun around in a panic, thinking that she was standing in the premises of her home, when in fact that she was standing in the first few inches of the storm. It was all a blur in her eyes, but she persisted looking for her family. The sniper, a trooper with a unique black armor, watched the poor girl spin until she got dizzy and weak.

Meanwhile, Darth Vader remained unmoving in his meditation chamber, dead center in the black, cold floor. He could hear Irele’s cries, her screaming of Owen and Beru’s names, and he could feel the hot, prickling wind that swats her face. The leather of his gloves squeaked as he tightened his already-closed fists.

Irele…

“No…” she exhaled one last time. “Bring them… back…”

“Target incapacitated. Requesting transport.” The trooper reported and was answered by an incoming transport craft to retrieve the trooper and a knocked out Irele.

–

The storm had eventually died down, but the teenagers’ anxiety did not.

Once they’ve gotten rid of the Banthas, they instantly hopped back on their skimmer and retraced their steps to the location where they lost Irele.

The sandstorm had erased her tracks, but they followed the direction where she aimlessly ran to.

Frelik heavily relied on his binoculars to find any sign of Irele. They had gotten far enough from the path they took when the Banthas pulled their skimmer. Drello may not be the most skilled wrangler, but he was a good tracker.

“We were here when she started talking funny, saying that she sees smoke when there’s nothing at all,” Drello pointed out the subtle indents of their skimmer and the Banthas’ hooves. He then angled his body to his easterly side, mimicking Irele’s position before she ran off. “And then she ran off there.”

“It’s strange,” Frelik added. “I heard her say the word ‘Home’ before she ran… but her house is in that direction.”

“Maybe the heat got to her?” Heeda theorized.

Frelik shook his head, “We didn’t even stay out that long, Heeda.”

“Come on, talking will take us nowhere!” Venee grunted. “Drello, what can you take from here?”

“We go to that direction,”

The skimmer hovered in a steady, leisurely pace; they were careful not to miss anything. The wind picked up as they got farther, a minor aftermath of the sandstorm in the middle of its calm; on his right, Frelik spotted something fluttering in the distance.

“Look! Drello turn us over there,”

Drello went straight ahead for that fluttering brown shape in the wind. Heeda picked it up and they all gathered around it.

“This is Irele’s scarf,” Venee mumbled pessimistically

“Then she must be close!” Heeda’s hopefulness contrasted the Twi’lek girl’s mood.

With only her lost scarf as a clue, it took the group all day trying to find her. The sunset beckoned them to stop. It never crossed their mind that they have to tell this to Owen and Beru, and they were scrambling over on what to tell them, how to say and explain it all, and that they’ll witness firsthand the wrath of Owen Lars—as well as his grief.

Reluctant, they drove their skimmer to the Lars homestead, with only a piece of Irele to bring home to her family. Up to now, not one of them have decided who will speak to Owen—neither do they have the courage to walk up to the front door.

They agreed that they go together, however, they hesitate to come an inch closer.

Eventually, Owen appeared out of the door.

“Oh, good thing you kids are back before dark.”

Silence from the children. Drello clutched onto Irele’s scarf so hard that it creased.

Owen’s eyes shifted left to right, counting in his mind, and it hit him.

“Where’s Irele?”

The teenagers flinched—shoulders flinched, sweaty fists clenched tighter, and knees were knocking.

Owen repeated the question until he spotted the scarf crumpled up into a ball.

“That’s Irele’s,” he pointed weakly at it. “Where is she!?”

“We… We’re sorry, but we lost her…”

“Lost her? Lost her!? Lost her how?!”

The raising of Owen’s voice attracted Beru—carrying Luke—to go outside. She finds Irele’s group being confronted by her husband.

“Owen, what’s going on here?”

“Irele didn’t come with them.”

“What?!” Beru gasped, her brown eyes widened.

Venee stepped forward, “We were on our way back, honest! But she started acting strange. She looked distraught about your house, she said she spotted smoke coming from here but…”

“What smoke? We were perfectly fine here all day!” Owen interrupted.

The Twi’lek girl continued, alternately looking to her friends. They vouched her every word with nervous yet truthful nods.

“That’s the thing, sir. What’s worse is… she ran into an incoming sandstorm. That’s when we lost her.”

Heeda stepped in Venee’s side, “It’s true what Venee said. We tried to look for her when the storm passed, honest! We just didn’t want to stay until dark because of the Tuskens.”

“We’re sorry,” Frelik said sadly and with a misplaced guilt. “But this is what we can only find of her.”

Drello unfurled the scarf and held it in both hands, presenting it to Irele’s brother. The young boy stepped forward to hand it over to the man who was hesitant to take it from his hands. Unable to accept that this was a rhyme to the fate of his late stepmother.

“No…” Owen’s rage melted into grief and distress. His heart wrenched. “Oh no…”

“Owen…”

Luke tugged the collar of Beru’s jacket and quietly asked, “Aunt Beru, where’s Irele?”

Unable to grasp how Irele’s friends had lost her, neither can Beru explain it to her nephew-in-law.

“Irele’s… Irele won’t be home for a while, dear.”

“Why?”

At a loss, Beru gave up looking for answers, there were no right ones after all.

“I don’t know, darling, I don’t know…”

As soon as Irele’s scarf came to Owen’s hands, he did not care anymore who would see him break down to tears. His knees melted, his back arched as he embraced a remnant of his dear sister—his remaining closest kin next to Luke—as he was fueled by the burning determination to find her.

Even if it meant he will have to repeat his father’s steps in finding Shmi all those years ago, then he would do the same for Irele. But for this night, the dunes heard his sobs and buried them underneath each and every grain of sand.

The next few days seemed desperate and hopeless. Owen had called up every men who were willing to come with him in search of Irele, her friends joined in as well. By the day, their numbers thinned out—majority giving up on the search as they could not find any other relevant leads except the scarf and the girl’s last known position.

“Give it a rest, Owen! The girl’s probably lost, or worse, fallen into a Sarlacc pit while in a heatstroke daze.”

“DON’T YOU DARE SAY THAT ABOUT MY SISTER!” Owen swung with a finger pointed at the man who claimed such an assumption.

Knowing that this was not worth his time and energy anymore, the scout gave up and turned tail. Owen originally rounded up at least fifty men scattered across the outskirts of the major towns, even as far as the Dune Sea; though little by little, they all gave up on the search as well as Owen himself. Some with a heart apologized and wished him luck in finding the teenage girl.

“Oh, Irele…” Owen huffed, exhausted. “Where are you…?”

He was forced to stop the search just a few hours before sunset. He sent her friends home earlier. Upon returning to the house, he watched as Beru quickly walked out of the kitchen with a hopeful face—only for that hopefulness to fade away when she saw that her husband arrived alone.

She awkwardly dismissed herself and returned to the kitchen. Leaving Luke playing with a toy cruiser and shuttle on the table. Owen sat across him, the boy continued playing and reentered the little world he’s created with his ships, accompanied by little scaled figurines carved out of painted wood.

And from that day forward, something in Owen changed. In the following years, he would have grown old and sterner especially towards the remaining youngest family member—his nephew. Never mind if Luke would resent Owen’s ways in disciplining him or keeping him grounded, if it meant keeping him safe and preventing the same fate to happen to the boy, then he would do it.

He cannot afford to lose another part of his family.

[twiistedgalaxies]

Genesis: Chapter 10: The Heist

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves.

Or, alternatively:

The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

        Hisashi stood outside of the abandoned warehouse, hands shoved into his coat pockets to ward off the cold. Once he was finally released from that God forsaken closet, and endured hours of torture from the Matron, that sadistic bitch, he had gotten in contact with the meta-humans he had assisted before. They had finally dug up some information about his mother, and wanted to deliver it to him in person. He scrubbed his face with his hands. Hisashi was so, so tired. Back to back sleepless nights were starting to wear on him. Even his little brother, ever the oblivious one, was starting to worry, but Hisashi just shrugged off his fussing with meaningless placations. If their mother had gotten the mafia’s attention, chances are Tomura was in danger too. He was far too young to get dragged into this mess, Hisashi didn’t want his naivete, his innocence, to be washed away by this drab and shitty world. If only he hadn’t stepped away from more underhanded dealings for a while. Maybe then he’d-

        No, that train of thought would get him nowhere. Right now, he’d need to focus on extracting as much information as he could, and perhaps find a way to make a quick buck. Tomura had fallen extremely ill in the last few days, since his medicine had run out. Not only was his brother bedridden, but angry red scaly patches had begun to appear all over the boy’s skin, seeping and weeping and causing his baby brother to whimper at the slightest touch. He’d been running a fever for the past several days, and any time Hisashi hadn’t spent in class or frantically texting Matt in hopes of a job, he’d be by Tomura’s bedside, reading him comic books and weaving stories to keep him distracted. Occasionally Tomura’s friends would stop by to visit, and Hisashi often had to shoo them away to make sure his sibling got some much needed sleep. Hopefully replenishing Tomura’s medications would get at least some of his symptoms to go away, but this all seemed new. Never in his life had Hisashi seen his brother in such a grotesque state.

        He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and pushed open the wooden doors of the warehouse. Absentmindedly, he found himself thankful for his gloves, he would have acquired an absurd amount of splinters by now otherwise. It seemed the meta-humans had dropped whatever dramatic pretense they had from the first few times they met, as they were lounging around casually on crates. Amy seemed to be in a heated debate with Michael about something asinine. Raquel was nervously shuffling through a manila folder, and his head snapped up when Hisashi entered the large room. The teen nearly shot into the air when a hand clapped his maimed back, causing pain to course through him. He glanced over his shoulder only to see Bjame.

        “Thank you,” the giant of a man said, bushy face sincere.

        Hisashi quickly composed himself, “It wasn’t much. Just a job and nothing more,” he glanced at Raquel, who was making his approach, “I trust you’re finally upholding your side of our bargain?”

        Raquel nodded, “Yes, it took us a little while to obtain these files from our contact in the government. Whoever your mother was, her folder was under pretty tight security.”

        Hisashi took the folder from the office worker’s hand and hummed, “Your contact?”

        “Classified,” Raquel replied curtly, “Now, I assure you that none of us have looked at this file, we know well enough to respect your privacy.”

        “Much appreciated,” Hisashi said, and tucked the file into his jacket, “It was a pleasure doing business with you.” It had not been a pleasure, in fact, Hisashi had spent a decent chunk of his time fantasizing about various ways to knock Amy down a peg while he was locked up in the janitor’s closet. But what the meta-humans didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

        Amy let out a loud, frustrated noise, phone in hand.

        “What is it?” Raquel asked.

        “Dipshit cancelled on us, said it was too high risk,” she spat, glaring at her device like it existed to spite her.

        Michael frowned, “But tonight’s our only window, the feds are getting smart.”

        “You think I don’t know that?!”

        Hisashi pursed his lips, this could be quite the fortuitous opportunity, “What did you need him for?”

        “Whasit to you?” Amy replied, and pushed herself from her perch, sneakered feet landing on the cement floor with a soft thump.

        “Well,” Hisashi started, crossing his arms, “it just so happens that I’m in need of some cash, for the right price I could step in and help.”

        “What’s your price?” Raquel asked. Amy shot him a betrayed look.

        “What’s the job?” Hisashi inquired.

        Raquel hesitated for a moment, a variety of expressions flickering on his frown-lined face. Finally, he settled on an answer, “We’re disrupting a shipment to the Air Force base. The military is getting antsy, they’re preparing for something. Something big.”

        Hisashi hummed as he mulled it over, if nothing else, Matt could find the information interesting, “What’s the shipment?”

        “Weapons,” Raquel supplied, “We’ll be able to stock the resistance’s armory while keeping them out of those thugs hands.”

        “Alright,” he replied, because fuck it, he couldn’t bear to see Tomura spend another night in that miserable state, “I’m in, how much are you paying?”

        “Well,” Raquel huffed, “It’s not as if we’re well funded. We can probably put together about three hundred dollars or so.”

        Hisashi raised an eyebrow, that wasn’t a lot, especially for something so high risk. But on the other hand, that was about enough to cover his little brother’s most important prescription. He’d be around two hundred dollars short, but it wasn’t like any better options were coming out of the woodwork. “I’ll take it, but I’d like a pick of one of their weapons as well.”

        “You have a deal,” Raquel replied, and they shook hands, “We were planning on leaving after dropping off the file with you, but seeing as how the plan’s changed, you’ll have to squeeze into the van with us.”

        The teen nodded, indicating to Raquel that he should continue.

        “We’re to intercept the armored vehicle on the freeway, there’s some others who will be meeting us there and helping out. Amy over here,” Raquel jerked his head towards the girl, “already coordinated with our other team to plant bombs under the escort. Getting them stopped will be the simple part, but fighting off their goons and escaping? It’s going to get tricky. I hope you know how to fight.”

        Hisashi waved off the man’s concerns, “I’ll be fine. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

                                                -@~*^*~@-

        The van’s tires screeched on the sun-bleached asphalt as it swerved around the freeway to avoid flaming wreckage and other cars. Hisashi grasped onto the grab handle above the window for dear life, knuckles white, in a vain attempt to keep himself from violently slamming into Bjame or worse, the door next to him. It was a wonder they had gotten the vehicle started. According to Michael, the hunk of junk was hotwired and stolen from an impoundment lot. It was held together with duct tape, spit, and prayer. He winced when he heard the metal death trap give a pained howl as it flew down the road. If he hit the car door it was over, this thing couldn’t handle a stiff breeze, nevermind a full-body slam.

        The plan almost had gone off without a hitch. Almost. They’d managed to cut off the armored vehicle from its escort with some strategically placed cars. It all went to hell when Amy - God knows why the group decided to make her the driver - had detonated the explosives before they could get the target through an exit and into backstreets like planned. From there, everything descended into fire and chaos. Hisashi pinched the bridge of his nose, this entire thing had been counterproductive from the start, blowing the vehicle up was just going to absolutely ruin whatever they wanted to attain. Clearly, this little rebellion was in desperate need of competent leadership. He’d just have to see this job through, even if the execution made him want to silently scream. To keep himself grounded, he thought of the way his brother had looked that morning: pale and sickly and so, so frail. 

        He let out a sigh of relief as the van screeched to a halt, Finally. The teen slid the van door open, and sneered when it instead landed on the freeway with a clang. So much for stealth and subtlety, not that it had been an option when they blew up one of the busiest freeways in LA. 

        Before rushing towards the armored vehicle like his less intelligent companions, he took a moment to examine his surroundings. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon - that wouldn’t do, he’d be late coming back and the Matron would have his head - casting the world into a dark blue glow. Cars were strewn across the road like discarded toys, some crumpled and smashed like recycled soda cans. A flaming tire rolled across Hisashi’s field of vision, and amusedly he was reminded of tumbleweeds in old western films. It was a wonder that they’d gotten out of that unscathed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few survivors poking bloodied heads out from the wreckage, it looked like they would have to put on a good show.

        Ah, Hisashi thought, there they are. The warped metal carcasses of the vehicle's escort lay on the far side of the freeway, where the rebels had just come from. There was a pretty high chance that there would, like in the other wrecks around him, be a surprising amount of survivors. Of course, the soldiers could have died agonizing deaths and would no longer be an issue, but Hisashi refused to get his hopes up. Life had never dealt him an easy hand before after all. They'd likely have a few minutes, tops, before the escort would get over their shock, recuperate, and retaliate.

        Not wishing to be on the wrong end of a stream of bullets, Hisashi hurried towards the armored vehicle, where Bjame was working to pry open the bent metal. “We should get into cover,” Hisashi pointed out, sparing Raquel a glance.

        “We’ll have cover once we get this thing open, dumbass, now shut up and make yourself useful,” Amy hissed. She was digging through what looked to once have been the driver’s seat. 

        Hisashi felt his face sour, but he didn’t deliver the scathing retort burning under his skin. Squabbling like a bunch of preschoolers would get them nowhere. Instead, he opted to join the brat in digging through the wreckage. The driver and the passenger beside him were charred black from the explosion, and various parts of their bodies were scattered along the road. Gross. They hadn’t found much of use, only a busted up altoid tin and melted id cards. Amy had cheered upon seeing the latter, but quickly deflated upon seeing they were mangled beyond use.

        Suddenly, he heard what sounded like fireworks coming from opposite sides of the freeway. Hisashi cursed under his breath, but felt thankful that the rest of the group was giving them some cover fire. He glanced at Bjame, whose face was red and veins were bulging from the strain of peeling back metal. 

        “Oh move out of the way,” Michael said with a roll of his eyes as he lightly pushed the man from the bottom of the car. Hisashi’s eyebrows shot up as Michael’s arm began to glow red, an odd blade forming above his hand. Michael began to use this to cut through the metal like butter. 

        “Why didn’t you do that earlier?!” Amy shouted.

        Michael shrugged, “I wanted to see how long Bjame would keep that up for.”

        A bullet pierced the tire above Hisashi’s head, causing air to leak out of it with a low whistle. The teen cringed, and crouched lower to the ground. Thankfully, the metal underside of the vehicle hit the blacktop with a clang. “Try not to brush up against the edges,” Michael warned as he climbed inside, “They’re still hot.”

        Hot was an understatement, they were still glowing orange from the heat. Hisashi wondered how Michael’s mutation worked, it seemed to be heat-based, perhaps the blade was made out of some sort of plasma? He was pulled out of his musings when Raquel dragged him out of the line of fire and into the vehicle. Oh. Right. He let out a hiss of pain when the top of the opening brushed against his back, singeing his clothes and burning his already raw skin.

        For once in his life, Hisashi was glad to be proven wrong. The weapons were in surprisingly good shape, only a few had been damaged in the explosion. He supposed the government had kept using these trucks for a reason. Glass crunched under his shoes, the cases that had held the weapons shattered in the explosion. It just made it easier to grab what they needed, no need to fumble with locks unnecessarily after all. Hisashi reached for a sleek black pistol and some ammo that he assumed went with it. He glanced around the pseudo-room, it seemed his accomplices had the same thing in mind, they were rather decently armed. Based on how the gunshots grew nearer and the whirring of helicopter blades made his ears ring, they were just in time. Bjame, who’d somehow found a rather burly looking submachine gun, poked the upper half of his body out of the opening and began firing. The others seemed to follow in suit, Hisashi reached up and adjusted his face mask. The world didn’t need to know his identity after all. He stepped out of the wreckage, staying in a low crouch, and began to attempt to pick off any soldiers he could see. Marksmanship had never truly been his strong suit, he preferred to get a lot more… personal with his dirty work.

        Still, there was something to be said for the spray of blood and screams that bullets brought out in people. Perhaps he’d need to take up a new hobby. To his left, Hisashi heard Raquel let out a grunt of pain. He spared the man a glance. Shit. A bullet had embedded itself into his hip. Hisashi grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the vehicle, much like how the office worker had done to him only moments before. As he did so a loud bang sounded out to their right, his eyes stung as dust was kicked up into the air. This fucker couldn’t die, he still needed to pay for Tomura’s medicine. However this mess ended, it wouldn’t be pretty. Hisashi tore off his right shirt sleeve and began wrapping it around Raquel’s leg.

        “Thank you,” the man gasped.

        “Save your energy,” Hisashi snapped, “We need to figure out how to get out of this alive. Any ideas oh wise one? Any way to communicate with your buddies?”

        Raquel’s jaw snapped shut, terse.

        He pinched the bridge of his nose, a new habit it seemed, “Thought so.” Hisashi glanced around the armored vehicle’s cavity, - and no, he was not frantic! - looking desperately for anything that could help them. Finally, his eyes landed on something useful, thank God, and felt his lips stretch into a wide smile. Perfect. 

        “What?” Raquel asked.

        “Don’t worry about it, just stay here,” Hisashi replied curtly, ignoring his elder’s barrage of protests. He winced as another explosion rang out and shook the truck violently. It appeared he’d just have to feed the army a taste of their own medicine. The teen clambered to his feet and reached up into a previously neglected compartment. It was full of grenades, and lots of them. At the very least it would buy them some time to escape. He grabbed an armful, as many as he could hold. “Hey Michael!”

        The man looked up, face shifting from confusion to understanding, he got everyone else’s attention. Hisashi distributed the explosives among them while Bjame kept the offensive line busy.

        “Hell yeah!” Amy cheered as she lobbed the first grenade, letting out a near deranged cackle when it exploded into a hellish fireball. Hisashi threw one of his own and immediately understood her reaction, it was beyond satisfying. He spared a glance up, trying to figure out what it was exactly that was circling them. Ah, a news helicopter. Vultures.

        There was a pounding of footsteps on cement to his left, the explosions gave enough of an opening for their reinforcements to gain ground. 

        Pain flared into his being and flooded his senses. Holy shit! Holy shit! Hisashi had been shot before, but forgotten how much it hurt. He reached up to his forehead only to find blood. Only a graze but he’d been caught off guard. Silently, he cursed himself for getting distracted again, and returned his attention to the matter at hand. Sirens wailed in the distance. They needed to leave, and leave now. 

        “Get the weapons and run!” an unfamiliar voice shouted, seemingly struck with the same revelation as Hisashi. 

        Not thinking twice, Hisashi shoved his weapon into his pockets and grabbed all he could. He gave his companions as many weapons as they could take one by one before he finally took off himself, Raquel slung over his shoulder and a few grenades tucked under his arm. Briefly, he considered flinging an explosive into the vehicle for good measure, so the government couldn't use what was left, but quickly decided against it. He'd have to drop Raquel for that and the man still had some use left.

        The relief and euphoria that washed over Hisashi when they finally entered cover with their allies was unparalleled. The rebels loaded what weapons they could into the trucks and fled from the freeway like rats scurrying from a shipwreck. The car ride was bumpy, punctuated by random swerves as they avoided hitting any survivors or busted cars. 

        Hisashi leaned back into the corner between his seat and the door and let out a deep breath. For a while there, he didn’t think he’d get out alive. There was no way in hell he’d only accept three hundred dollars for this job. He reached a hand inside his coat pocket and pulled out the file he’d received earlier. A sigh of relief. It was intact despite all of the chaos. While his associates worked out how to shake various helicopters off their tails (something about splitting up) he carefully opened the envelope and looked everything over.

        At the top of his page was a photo of his mother. Her usually bright eyes and kind smile were completely absent. She looked exhausted, worn down by the world. Name: Hana Shigaraki. Age: 42. Sex: F. 

        He bit back a frustrated sound building in his throat. Most of the file was redacted. She was listed as an asylum-seeker, fleeing from government persecution. The details explaining why, exactly, the Japanese government was out for her head was a mystery, hidden under blocks of black ink, taunting the teen relentlessly. 

        They hit a particularly nasty bump in the road, and Hisashi spared a glance up. He grimaced, lovely. A corpse was smattered on the windshield, Michael - who was driving after Amy’s disastrous performance - was trying desperately to get it off to no avail. Begrudgingly, Hisashi closed the file and shoved it back into the manila envelope. That could wait for now. 

        Finally, after a few swerves and maneuvers that made Hisashi’s toes curl, the unfortunate fellow slid off the windshield and they had visibility again. 

        “I’m heading to Eastside, hopefully with all the back streets we’ll be able to shake ‘em,” Michael announced, glancing at his passengers through the rear view mirror.

        Hisashi tucked the envelope back into his jacket, “That sounds good, any way you’ll be able to drop me off around there unnoticed?” He needed to get back to the orphanage, he was really late. On the bright side, there was a CVS nearby that was open, he should be able to get Tomura’s prescription on the way back and come up with a decent cover story.

        Michael hummed, “I’ll try.”

        “I know this is more than you bargained for but,” Raquel passed over the promised money, “This is all I can get you for now. Amy’ll contact you when we have something more adequate.”

        “Fine,” Hisashi replied sharply. This wasn’t enough, but the rebels had proven to at least be able to hold up their end of deals. They wouldn’t leave him hanging, and if they did? Hisashi knew enough of their intel to stir up trouble. The teen made an effort to get comfortable, this was going to be a long ride.

A/N:

Alternate chapter title: The World’s Worst Uber

I had fun writing this! It was good practice writing action scenes, something I'm still learning how to do decently. Like with the chapter 8, this ended up being longer than anticipated, but I needed to hit every point important to the story. Like usual, feel free to leave a comment, I read and reply to every one of them :D.

AO3

Next Chapter

                                                Chapter Bonus:

                                                        Pest

                                                      6:00am

[This you? 👀]

[(link to a youtube video)]

                                                        [M, I’m using a burner. I can’t go on Youtube.]

[Apparently there was a terror attack

on the 105 today.]

[Fire, death, destruction. I’m impressed!]

[You’ve been busy :D]

                                                      [That wasn’t me, I was out getting my brother’s

                                                                                                                medicine.]

[Riiiiight]

[Which is why you have that nasty cut on

your face yeah?]

                                                                                                     [How did you…?]

[Eyes and ears everywhere, remember? ;)]