#and my basic stance is it's okay if we never get back to those heights. i mean those were so fucking good u can't be greedy

[batsplat]

favorite motogp rivalry not involving any of the aliens ?

you know, the fact that this is so tough shows just how inescapable they've been in the sport. still, I'll give it a shot

you can go several directions here - either stick to the present, or go for stuff this century that's more in the background, or go way way back. I'm reasonably fond of that eighties early nineties period and the varied rivalries they produced between all the anglos... you know, spencer, gardner, lawson, rainey, schwantz, doohan, that lot... (admittedly some haven't massively endeared themselves to me with their post-retirement punditry, but it is ever thus with athletes.) couldn't do that justice here but a few quickfire thoughts

lawson and gardner is one of those fun ones where you have two completely different blokes competing who just fundamentally Did Not Get Each Other at all. gardner was cocky, forthright, brash, whereas lawson was far more reserved, cool-headed, cerebral... and, of course, they didn't didn't just understand each other, they also didn't like each other at all. infamously gardner was not exactly thrilled when his long time rival was signed for honda (gardner's manufacturer) and gardner had to find out by reading the papers

also they shot this safety ad together and apparently didn't speak to each other the entire time, even though they were in close proximity for hours. don't you just desperately want to recreate this with certain riders, hm

anyway, of course there's also rainey and schwantz, probably the one everyone knows... as ever, important they didn't get on and hated to lose each other

all culminated in the dramatic 1993 season, with schwantz determined that it would finally be his year... and it's a classic season, one hears (even if one is unable to judge for oneself), but a title fight with a sad twist when a collision between the two of them at misano ends rainey's career while handing schwantz his only 500cc title. in the end, it also ended schwantz's career, who retired at the end of 1994. of course dorna promised they'd never go to misano again, which they stuck to for a full fourteen years

then again, arguably the vibes were a bit too good back then between riders, like what's all this then (from schwantz)

actually, I suppose none of those were technically 'motogp' rivalries, but. same difference. there's a few in the years after... I do find the whole 1998 250cc season deeply compelling, but it also would feel like cheating because what makes the harada/capirossi thing so fun is that valentino is there acting as the third man. very much the dynamics between all three of them that are so great. plenty of spats in the years after that, but something like dovi/iannone is more just good fun than a proper 'rivalry'. you do generally need some proper development for a real rivalry, and the aliens just monopolise so much attention this century. so you do basically have to fast forward to... well, the last few years, where the most notable ones have been pecco/fabio and pecco/jorge martin

now I do like pecco/fabio conceptually - it's interesting to have this rivalry between two guys who were being moulded into being the marc challengers by their respective manufacturers and then to have had marc suddenly disappear on them. the way it suddenly thrust fabio into the spotlight, how it put all these expectations and pressures on him and essentially made him title favourite overnight... vs how pecco is the closest motogp has had to a dominant force in the post prime!marc era and is constantly uneasily grappling with that legacy. you've got all this uncertainty and insecurity and asterisks and the shadow cast by the greats (who haven't even had the decency to go away completely), the weight of those legacies... also, two kinda funny title fights, if odd ones (especially '22 lol). main problem is that their wildly contrasting fortunes whenever they were title rivals mean they've managed to avoid actually fighting each other on-track. insanely frustrating and the real asterisk for this rivalry

pecco/martin has been strong stuff, yeah. super contrasting personalities, such visibly different riding styles, and considerably more material when it comes to on-track battles than pecco/fabio (still more work to be done though). that intra-manufacturer arc has been fun to follow, this stand-off between ducati's golden boy and the challenger with the eternal underdog mindset. both have a tendency to feel like the world's against them (which is a trait many riders share, sports is such a wonderful breeding ground for victimisation complexes), both are so incredibly unreliable. both rather volatile in their own ways, both battling their own insecurities. also, it doesn't hurt that they've got a bit of shared history as teammates back in the day. would've been interesting to see them as teammates in motogp, curious how jorge reacts to this latest twist... the needle between them has been fun, especially the silly valencia stuff, though I wouldn't mind some more openly hostilities between the pair of them - and I do feel like marc's reemergence has inevitably ensured the two of them are paying less attention to each other. even martin's grand big fuck ducati thing is now more about being rejected in favour of marc than about pecco getting preferential treatment. still, they've got time, could give us plenty more to work with

which is my favourite of those? I don't know... the tricky thing about the older rivalries is that I believe very strongly in evaluating rivalries by actually watching their competitive output and there's only so much of them I can watch. I guess by process of elimination it's currently pecco/martin? for a hot second there I suppose pecco/bez looked like it could be quite interesting, but they didn't really fight for the title and remained friendly so. whatever. it'd be nice if everyone else picked up the slack some time soon

[palbabor-writes]

Impetuous

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT/18+only, cunnilingus, switching, bratting, face-riding, Satoru being Satoru, so he’s chatty & in general the worst  

Words: 12,815

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

Notes: this thing has been languishing in my drafts since like, January. because it was my first step away from BNHA i’ve sorta over analyzed it & edited it, likely to death. but anyway, without further ado, here is my first venture into the JJK fandom! thank you for edits & suggestions: @albinoburrito, @kugutsuu​, @kogo​ & everyone else that i’ve forced to look at this thing. love you all sm & ty for putting up with me!

& it’s gojo because of course it fucking is. 

Impetuous im·pet·u·ous /imˈpeCH(o͞o)əs/ adjective done quickly

“I hate to be a harbinger of bad news, and I can understand your frustration, but that’s what they asked me to do. Doesn’t matter what continent we’re on, elders are elders. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that this teaching pathway is even an option for him.” Although you speak softly, your voice seems to carry more in these close meeting rooms, clattering off the tatami mats and gleaming leather couches.   

Yaga massages the bridge of his nose and adjusts his dark sunglasses before lifting his eyes to yours. “I understand, but I still feel that he would be an asset to our school. As long as his motivations remain pure, that’s all I can ask for, at present.”

“Pure or not,” you continue, lacing your fingers as you cross one leg over the other. “It’s vital to see how he handles himself on these missions. What if he has a student with him? I’ve never seen his fighting style, but I’ve heard he can be reckless. How can he foster confidence and proper growth if he’s not measured on the basics? There’s the additional worry of taking him off of the higher ranked missions. Or, if you elect to keep sending him on them, can he handle both? Can he teach and still be a successful sorcerer and asset?”

“He’ll be expected to do both. He knows this,” Yaga sighs, reaching for his lukewarm cup of tea. “While he’s not known for his conventionality, I don’t think that will interfere with his teaching. As I said, some recent events at the school have helped to illuminate the importance of managing the coming generation. Satoru is confident, and I believe that will translate well to any future students. He’s already taken on some responsibility with young Fushiguro and the boy is doing well under his instruction.”

“Fushiguro?” you ponder. Your school administration and the head elders had given you a list of names, people who represented the top families among Japan’s sorcerers, but you don’t remember seeing a name like Fushiguro among the others.

“He’s related to the Zen’in family,” Yaga explains, spreading his vast hands open as he replaces his tea cup against the low table that rests between the two of you. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, your superiors in America have sent you to Japan to collect a series of reports. One is on the influence of curses and how our alumni comport themselves in the field. The other is the analysis of our teaching styles and to, how did you put it, ‘further diversify your own teaching abilities as a jujutsu educator.’ And, as if that wasn’t possibly enough, to observe our newest teaching candidate, Satoru Gojo.” 

“In a nutshell,” you confirm, a smile quirking the edge of your lips. “We’ve got some missions lined up, right?”

“Yes. You will enter the field with Satoru and one other returning alumna, Shoko Ieiri. She’s finished her medical degree and will join our research facilities in the coming weeks.”

“Oh! She’s the one who can use the reverse healing technique! I’ve heard of her.”

“Yes. She was in Satoru’s class. I realize your report is the main aim that you have here, but I would ask that you keep an open mind. While your report is of value to our school, it will not affect my decision on the matter.”

You lean against the stiff cushions of the couch and cock your head at Yaga’s impassive expression. “Of course,” you assure him, noting that nothing in his outward appearance shifts as you give him the response he was waiting for. “Should be an interesting week, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yaga replies, finally cracking a less than reassuring grin. “Satoru will make sure of that.”

“Hey! (L/N)-san! The next report is up and they’re sending a manager for us, hurry up! Stop scribbling things in that little notebook. What are you writing anyway? Is it some kinda biography? Oooh! Is it on me? Is that why you keep looking at me? It is, isn’t it? Ahh, now I’m gonna feel self-conscious.”

You snap your notepad closed and slip it into your hip pouch, stepping toward the two fellow members of your team. “It’s just routine notes and you don’t need to call me (L/N)-san. I realize it’s likely force of habit, but please, just call me (Y/N).”

“Ahhh! We’re already on a first name basis! I’m blushing. I’ve never had a girl be this forward with me!” Satoru sighs, clapping his hands against his cheeks and leaning over you. “You’re so bold!”

“Ugh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Liar, and stop that. I’m still the senior sorcerer in this party. I–”

“But you’re just a grade 1,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his hips and exaggerating his stance, moving his face close to yours. As he looms ever nearer, you raise your chin and hold your ground. This invasion of personal space is a tactic he loves to use. 

At first, you’d figured he was just another one of those guys who weren’t aware how intimidating their sheer height and presence came off to others. However, as the days wore on, you noticed his intentional maneuvering. He would press at Shoko too, but she was better at ignoring him, so he soon turned his full attention to you.

“Yeah, I might only be a grade 1, but they have given me the command on all of our missions. It’s my job to file the reports, a task that you, as the technical ‘junior party’, aren’t trusted to do.”

“You’re so right! That’s a tremendous responsibility. How do you stand under all that pressure (Y/N)! The role of the pencil pusher is such a big job. I should act right! Or I’ll never be a real jujutsu sorcerer! God, look at this Shoko, we need to get our shit together! At this rate, we’ll never be able to file our own reports!”

“Now, now,” you tut, raising a finger in front of your face, forcing him to take a subconscious step backwards. “Watch what you say, after all, you’re wanting to become a teacher. So some part of the masochism of endless paperwork must appeal to you.” 

Satoru’s smooth lips raise into a broad smirk and pulls away, arching his arms behind his pale head. “Hmm, I’ll give you that one (Y/N). Mainly because of your choice of wording. Masochism. What a word for it. And why’d you have to say it so straight faced? Oh, that reminds me, what time is our next mission at?”

“Uh, why did masochism remind you of that?” you pause, lifting your wrist so you can check the time on your watch. “I think it’s in two hours, give or take traffic.”

“Hmm, and it’s in the Chiba district?”

“Yeah, that’s in Tokyo, right?”

“It is,” Shoko chimes in, twirling a lock of her long brown hair between two of her fingers. Her low voice reminds you, and you turn to face her. “Speaking of names, I never asked, would you prefer Shoko or Ieiri?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, lifting her tawny eyes to yours, catching some of the bright sunlight as it fades into the deep circles under her eyelids. The contrast makes her skin look even more pallid. “First name, last name, whatever is easier.”

“Shoko okay with you then?”

“Sure,” she nods, the ghost of a smile lifting her lips. 

“Oi!” Satoru interrupts, slinging an arm over Shoko’s shoulder and fixing you with a pointed look. Or you assume he is, it’s hard to tell where he’s looking because of those white strips of cloth that obscure his eyes. “You know what’s in Chiba, don’t you?”

You blink at him, unsure if this is another one of his aimless questions or something genuine. “No. Should I?”

“You’re a tourist and you really don’t know what’s in–”

“We’ve already been over this Satoru; I am not a tourist,” you protest. “I’m here on official business from my administration to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, special, ‘top secret’ assignment or not, you’re still basically a tourist because it’s your first time to Japan. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t look up anything before you arrived?”

“Um,” you waver, eyes narrowing at the cheerful leer that’s drifting over Satoru’s angular features. “I looked up some basic things. I know about the Shinjuku and Roppongi districts. Oh, and Harajuku, that’s a big one too.”

“Mmhm, very good, my little tourist, but do you know what’s in the Chiba district?”

“Don’t call me that and stop screwing around Satoru. If this has nothing to do with the mission, then I’m not interested. I could care less what’s in the district–”

“Might just be rumors, but I’ve been hearing about an increase in cursed activity. Especially around that theme park. I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he looks upward, pearlescent hair tumbling behind his wrappings. “I guess it’s not surprising that it’s a hot spot, what with all the people who are always checking it out. It’s pretty famous.” 

Tch. He’s not gonna tell you. 

You suck your teeth and twist your hand back to your hip pouch, digging for your phone. As you peer over the search results you can hear him rambling on about the notoriety of the unnamed place but as soon as you hit the second result, your head whips back up. 

There’s no way. 

Of course you’d heard of it, you’d even thought about it when the higher ups asked you to take on the assignment to Japan, but never, not in a million years, would you have figured that you’d have a chance to go. Not on this trip.

“Are you serious?” you breathe, blinking up at his smug face. Satoru doesn’t answer, just pops one hand under his chin and gives you a shit-eating grin. You look back at your phone and bite your lip, doing your best to contain your budding excitement, double checking the map for the district.

If he’s not pulling some kind of elaborate joke, it looks like Tokyo Disneyland is the location of your next mission.

“What… what the fuck is this, some kinda elaborate joke??” 

The gates to the amusement park are warped, and the paint is peeling; one side looks like it’s about to melt off of the frame, all twisted metal and faded rust. Just past the gates you can see what looks like an old merry-go-round, complete with lions, tigers, bears and several sets of horses. At the tip-top of the ride rest a star, and atop that star is a wraith like curse. It spindles around the flecks of gold and cool bronze, baring its teeth at the three of you and sputtering a long line of broken speech as it twists and turns. 

“Huh, still looks about the same. This place was enormous when I was a kid. Now it’s a trendy spot for ghost hunters and thrill seekers! I think five or six people died here last year.” Satoru grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strides forward. In seconds, he’s beside the curse on the merry-go-round, silencing chittering of its inane dialogue, letting an eerie quiet seep over the rest of the abandoned grounds.

“So stupid. I cannot believe I let him make me think we were going to Disneyland. You know what he’s like, Shoko! Why didn’t you tell me? He–”

“I honestly don’t listen to him. No idea he was making you think this was Tokyo Disney,” Shoko interrupts, already following the path Satoru took, tucking her brown hair behind her neck with a loose hair tie. “But since we’re here, could you lower the curtain and take care of those level 2 curses on the ticket booth?”

You let out a long sigh and toss her a quick affirmative, reciting the familiar incantation, watching as the darkening shield slopes its way down from the skies, sheltering the three of you within its haze.

The first set of curses are easy enough and you swiftly take care of them, unleashing your cursed technique and splicing them into faded dust. How ridiculous, you think, opening the door to the booth and dodging an ill timed lunge from a sneakier curse who was hiding inside. Satoru honestly had you thinking that you’d be going to the Disneyland theme park. On the way over, he’d even told you about the layout of the park and what potential curses might be lurking about. 

What a jerk. 

Still, you muse, turning toward another shrieking hulk of a curse that’s lumbering toward you, it’s impressive he’d led you on so easily. You make a mental note to get back at him later, for now you need to clear this area and focus on the task at hand. 

“I cannot believe that you led me on like that!” you pout, knocking back a small swig of beer.

“Pfft,” Satoru chuckles, wagging one long finger at you. “Didn’t ever say it was gonna be Disneyland, did I? You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Oh please! Making me look up what ‘famous tourist spots are in Chiba’ and then nodding each time I said I was excited to see some of the rides on the way over.”

“You could have really been into haunted carnivals. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ass,” you snap playfully, sticking your tongue out at his pleased smile. 

After the mission and spotting your peeved expression, Satoru had insisted that you let him take the two of you out for a drink. According to Shoko, the bar in this neighborhood was highly rated and had some of the best specials in the entire district. 

The place was packed; but somehow Shoko had secured three seats up at the bar top, ushering you to sit between her and Satoru, informing you there must always be a three foot buffer between her and ‘that loser’. The bartender seemed to know her and, before you could pull yourself into the worn leather seat, three foaming lagers were passed across the rough surface of the bar top, one for each of you. 

“Thanks,” you’d murmured, cupping your hands around the glass. On your right, Satoru pushed his lager toward you, raising two fingers at the distracted barkeep as he chatted with Shoko. “What’s wrong? Don’t like beer?” you’d asked, bemused by his disgruntled expression. 

“Nah,” he’d confirmed, wagging his digits a little faster, chin lifting as he let out a huffed exhale. “Messes with my eyes. I want something to eat, though. Hey! Shoko! Stop flirting with him and ask if they have anything sweet! Shokooo! Don’t ignore me!”

Shoko made a show of rolling her eyes but, a few minutes later, a plate of piping hot fried sweet buns appeared and he’d swiftly grabbed up one, popping it in his mouth and smacking it hungrily. You’d turned to ask Shoko what they were, but by the time you’d twisted back to Satoru over half of the cakes were gone. 

“Damn, you inhaled them,” you’d exhaled, a little shocked he could scarf them down that quickly.

“Well, they’re not bad and hit the spot, for now,” he’d grinned. “Want one?”

“I’m good. You might bite my finger if I get too close… mistake it for one of the buns…”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Think you wouldn’t taste good?”

“Yikes,” you laugh and Satoru hums, clearly pleased with your genuine mirth.

Shoko, who was soon engrossed in conversation with a few of the other patrons to the left of her, kept ordering rounds for the both of you. To keep up, you diligently sipped at each fresh beer, careful to keep abreast of the thrum of the alcohol with several responsible swigs of water. Satoru seemed content with his small order of sweets and peppered you with questions about life in America. He asked about what grade year you taught, the ins and outs of curses within the states and how you liked Japan. He kept things lively and made a point to throw in a few lighthearted jokes at you, beaming each time you laughed at his barbs. 

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no one in America quite like me?” he teases, stretching his long arms dramatically before leaning closer to you.

“Stop that! You’re gonna hit someone,” you grin, trying to shove at his side, watching as your hand freezes in midair, held off by his limitless technique. “Seriously? You’ve still got that on?”

“Mmhm,” Satoru intones. “24/7, 365!”

“You would,” you try to jostle him again, bemused by the fraying and shimmering sliver of infinity that rests between the two of you.

“It’s a tremendous strain on my brain, you know,” he bemoans, dropping his head and fixing a long frown over his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“Ack!” Satoru cries out, clutching at his heart. “Wow! No sympathy! You really gonna treat me like this? My senpai?”

“May I remind you - Tokyo Disneyland,” you intone, glaring at his haggard expression. 

“WOW. You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Satoru cracks a face, arching his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, letting a high pitched, cracked voice leech from his lips. “Ahhh, that damned man! He deprived me of my dreams! The chance to see Tokyo Disneyland, one last time!”

“What is that? Me? But… old?”

“Pretty good, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it was uncanny!” he crows, nodding.

“What in your warped mind makes you think I’ll sound anything like that when I’m old?” you ask, pushing your empty beer pint forward as you purse your lips. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited over the idea of a theme park,” he ponders, tapping a bent index finger against his smooth chin. “Don’t you guys have them in the states? The Disney parks, I mean.”

“We do, we have two. But, since you made me think we were coming to Tokyo Disneyland, I looked up some rides,” you snatch your phone from the counter, scrolling through a few photos before you land on the right one. “Ah! Here it is! Look at this! See?” you chirp, pushing the gleaming screen of your phone toward him.

“Uh. What am I looking at?”

“It’s the Tower of Terror!”

“Which is… ummm… a ride?”

“Yeah? And look at it! It’s upside down! I don’t think the one in America does that,” your finger reaches toward your phone and you blow up the closest image, tapping at the bright colors. Satoru laughs and waves a hand up, attracting the bartender once more and gesturing for another beer for you. “Imma get you another drink, you’re fun like this, plus, you’re just too cute with that little smile.”

You miss his last comment, wholly focused on finding another set of images. “Oh my God! Look! During Halloween they have a night parade in front of it! And… ahhh! Satoru! There’s a green ghost at the top! It’s almost like that curse we saw tonight at the carnival!” 

His long fingers snatch up your bright device, and he yanks it away from your wide eyes. “Ok, that’s enough of that. I’m worried you might end up cursing me for not taking you.”

You give him a sour look and vainly try to grab your phone back, fingers unable to pass through his unseen barrier. “What? No fair! I still don’t understand how you can always have this up!”

“Practice,” he taunts, shaking his head at your determination and wandering touch, chuckling each time you bounce off of his cursed technique. “On another note,” he begins as your new lager is placed in front of you. “What’s in that report that you’re working on?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he’s still holding your phone and cautiously sip past the foam of your fresh beer, peering up at him, studying the lines of his white cloth. It doesn’t tell you much, so you look at his lips instead. They’re pale, but they’re held in a serious line, so you carefully construct your response. “What makes you think I have a report?”

“Why else would you be here?” Satoru counters, rapping his nails against the warped wood of the bar top. “I know you met with Yaga and you’re too cautious and overpowered to be sent on missions with Shoko and me. So you must be here for something else.”

“Officially,” you concede, “I’m here to observe the teaching techniques and skills of the alumni of your school. I’m sure this will come as no shock, but curses are getting more powerful, both here and overseas, and we’re doing our best to keep ahead of those changes. I’m supposed to pick up what tricks I can and bring them back home, to see how we can implement it.”

“Reasonable,” he allows, spreading his fingers before coiling them under his palms again. “But that’s not everything, is it?”

No, you think it’s not. 

You lower your beer and look over at him. He’s braced himself against the bar and his head is dipped so his chin is almost against his breastbone. He doesn’t exactly look dejected, but you can see that he’s thinking deeply and something about that openness makes your heart squeeze. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy. 

Ugh, he’s not a bad guy. He’s funny, and he knows what he’s doing, plus he has the confidence to get where he needs to go. In all honesty, he wouldn’t make a terrible teacher. Maybe not the best, but he certainly wouldn’t be the worst. 

“I–there… there’s some concern you’d be too divided - that it’s not practical to have you teach and go on missions. I also don’t think your own elders trust you much.”

“Ah-ha!�� Satoru beams, springing upward and pointing two finger guns at you. “You are here to look in on me! Knew it!”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Fine, fine, you got me. Let’s get this over with, huh? So we can get back to talking about things other than work, I liked that. What’s the most direct thing I can ask? Hmm, oh! I’ll start with something easy–Why do you want to teach?”

“That’s easy?” he whines, head falling again. 

“It’s straightforward,” you bargain, propping your chin on your fist, looking him over. 

“Sure, let’s pretend that’s not a deceptively loaded question! Alright, well, it’s the best way to change things.”

“Change things?”

“Yup. Like you mentioned, lately curses have become more powerful and lately it feels like I’m the only one who’s being sent on these high-level missions. Frankly, it’s stupid to rely on just me that much, you know? That’s not practical, or even realistic. So, to my mind, it’s vital I throw my support behind some of these up-and-coming kids. You know, foster the next generation and all that. I want reliable allies in the field and to have that, I’ve gotta make sure they’re taught right. Give them everything I know, make them better than me, stronger than me.” 

You’re quiet for a long breath, eyes wide, fingers frozen around your glass, which was midway to your lips. “Damn,” you smile, letting the word hang. “You know, that was actually a pretty good answer.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and curls his lips in a grimace. “Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“I mean,” you chuckle and look up at him, eyes bright. “Well, your attitude doesn’t always inspire confidence.” 

“Ahhhhhh,” he groans, thumping his covered forehead against the bar. “Such a low blow! Bartender! Another round for me!”

“Please,” you sigh, finally taking a sip of your beer. “Do not call your sweet buns ‘another round.’” He grins at you and leans across the bar top, shifting his weight toward your bent arm. The pressure of his shoulder is warm and you nudge at him a little, playfully. He tuts at you but continues to stare ahead, a faint smile teasing the edge of his lips. 

As the bartender slides the requested plate of sweets down, you suddenly realize that you’re touching him. Your eyes widen and you slowly turn your head toward his. He’s not looking at you, content with chewing on his sweet bread, but he’s still braced against you. It’s like all of your senses are finely tuned to that one spot of faint friction between the two of you. You can feel the lines of his muscled arm as he shifts and you involuntarily gulp, doing your best to ignore the abrupt thudding of your heart. 

He said he always kept it up, didn’t he? Something about 24/7 and all the days of the year, so why is he…

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice startles you and you instinctively slide closer to Satoru, arm dragging against his shoulder as you try to right yourself again. “I’m gonna go win this drinking contest these guys have started. You two sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh,” you begin, but Satoru cuts you off, draping an arm over the back of your chair. “Yeah, we’ll be here. What are the stakes?”

“Not sure. But the pot is likely against me, if you’re in a betting mood.”

“Sure, I’ll put 20,000 yen on you.”

“Is…” you start, but Shoko is already walking off, one arm pumped into the air as she shoulders her way to the long table that’s filled with five or six others, all of them holding a full pint glass of beer between their hands. You turn back to Satoru and let out a long breath. “Is that safe?”

“Huh?” he asks, face close to yours. You can smell his cologne from here and the heady scent of him and crisp patchouli fills your senses. “I mean Shoko, will she be ok?” you elaborate, eyes studying the space where his own would be, silently hoping that he’ll pull down the barrier that covers half of him from your curious gaze. 

“Ah,” he nods sagely, leaning back a little to look out at where Shoko is sitting, quietly waiting for the start of the game with her full beer. “She’s got a ridiculously high tolerance. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s part of her cursed technique. She’ll be fine.”

“True, she likely knows the limits of the human body better than anyone else. But… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… excited?” you muse, sitting against your chair and running into the flat palm of Satoru’s hand. For a moment, you debate shifting away, but he’s not really doing anything, just letting the tips of his fingers rest against the curve of your spine, tapping a disjointed rhythm as he watches the start of the contest, that all too familiar smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“She used to be a little more laid back, you know?” he replies, leaning a little harder into your side as he lowers his voice, keeping close to your ear so you can hear him. “She always looks so tired now and her whole outlook has changed, but I suppose four years of med school will do that to you. Although, I did hear that she cheated her way out.”

“No!” you gasp, eyebrows lifted in shock. Satoru laughs, and for once, you’re not thinking it might be at your expense. “Yeah! Just the word on the street. But I wouldn’t put it past her. Shoko’s always done her best to avoid things, namely confrontation or extra work, so it makes sense she’d jet outta med school as fast as she could too.”

“That’s crazy and frankly, terrifying.”

“Riiight?” he shivers, lips raising in an exaggerated wince. “But that’s our Shoko. I’ve got a feeling she’ll do well at the school and I’m grateful I’ll have time to work with her again. It’s been way too long…” Satoru trails off and you can feel his hand slip up your back, fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades.

“Stop that,” you scold, shaking him off with a quick jolt and twisting around to look at his roguish smirk. “What happened to always maintaining your barrier?”

“Awe” he groans, dunking his head against your shoulder with a thump. “Come on, I’ve gotta win you over somehow!”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, I want the job.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you threaten, doing your best to keep your bubbling amusement contained. 

“Try it,” he taunts, lifting his head and keeping his face close. His nose is inches from yours and you can barely make out his sharp grin, but you can feel the drag and pull of his breath as it passes over you, leaving a lingering sweetness against your skin. Instantly, your hand lifts to him, fully intent on shoving him back, but you can’t move any closer, trapped by the sudden emergence of his infinity. 

“Ass,” you prickle, shaking your head at his antics. Another peal of laughter falls from his soft lips and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in his infectious joviality. “Tch. Don’t make me find more Tokyo Disney pictures.”

“You can’t,” he informs you, cocking his head at your confusion. “I still have your phone.”

“Hey! Give that back!” you gasp, snatching blindly at him. He shifts back into his seat and yanks your device out of his pocket, waggling it tauntingly in front of you. “Uh-uh! Gotta get past the barrier first!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Never said that I’d make this… oh! Shoko! How did it go? Win me something?”

You twist and spot Shoko’s dark head approaching the two of you. She pauses beside Satoru and flips a large stack of bills down on the bar top, a wide grin on her usually impassive face. “As expected, I won. Here’s your cut, Satoru. Don’t spend it all in one place or on another order of sweet buns, would you? Think you can do that for me?” 

She and Satoru bicker back and forth playfully as you unfold several of the notes, aimlessly organizing them on the countertop as their brisk conversation winds back down.

“So,” Shoko murmurs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and knocking one free from the carton. “You two gonna head out soon? I don’t really see a need to call one of the managers, the school’s close by and so is (Y/N)’s hotel.” 

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, finally passing your phone back as he collects the neatly stacked set of yen from you. “Figured, I’d see her back.”

“I can find it!” you protest, jamming your phone safely into your pouch once more.

“Sure,” he mocks, arching toward you as he braces an elbow against the bar. “You can barely speak Japanese and I know you can’t read much kanji, but sure thing, let’s let you loose in the city. See how far you make it before you’re calling one of us, hmm?”

“That’s not… I–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru waves his hand back and forth and turns back to Shoko. “I’ll let her finish her drink and then we’ll head out. See you tomorrow?”

Shoko nods at his question and, for a moment, you think you spy a knowing look pass between the two of them, but before you can call out to her, Shoko is already making her way toward the door.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes narrowed as Satoru looks down at you, white hair gleaming under the low lights. “What?” he asks innocently, propping his chin onto his open palm. “That look that the two of you just gave each other.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. You sure that beer didn’t hit you a little too hard?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite it being late August, a cool breeze greets the two of you when you step out of the bar. “It’s so nice out,” you comment, readjusting your boots as you hop onto the sidewalk. 

“Mmhm,” he agrees, bracing his arms behind his head as you make your way down the street. “So did you decide what you’re gonna write in your report?”

You glance up at him and make sure he can see you rolling your eyes. “Back to trying to butter me up?”

“Never! Just asking. If you wanna say I’m crazy and can’t be trusted, that’s fine. I can think of a few others who’d agree with you.” 

“Oh? Who?”

“Most people,” he laughs, stepping a little nearer and bumping against you, shocking you with the actual weight and warmth of his body again. As you continue on, you lift your hand to his arm and press the pad of your finger against his sleeve. This time, nothing bars your way so you run the digit slowly along his arm, smiling when he shivers and bats you away. 

“Stop that! Someone’s gonna see and think you’re taking advantage of me!”

The laugh that explodes from your chest at that mental image makes you stop dead in your tracks, arms lacing around your shaking stomach. Satoru scoffs at your bent figure and leans down, shaking his head at your guffawing.

 “The… the… fact that you… think that anyone… would think that… I–” 

“You’re lucky your laugh is so cute,” he muses, bracing his arms over your bent back, playfully pinning you down as he crosses his forearms.

“Hey!” you protest, squirming under his hold. “Let me up!”

“Tell me what you’ve written about me!” he threatens, chuckling as you squirm under him.

“I only said that Satoru Gojo is an absolute monster and shouldn’t be trusted with anyone’s future,” you cry out, overly pantomiming your overwrought expressions, peeking up at him from under his laced arms.

“Oh? Just that? Well, you’re right. So, fair is fair!” Satoru replies, slipping off of you so fast that you nearly tumble to the hard concrete. Half a beat later, he’s back in front of you and lifting you back to your full height, fingers soothing over your arms as he tugs you toward him. “Would it kill you to toss in a bit of praise? Talk about my undeniable prowess and skill? Wax poetic about my stunning efficiency? You know, make them think that I’ve won you over with my charms. After all, you can’t resist me, can you?”

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

A distant quake dashes up your spine, but it’s not from the chill in the air. “Uh, you sure you didn’t sneak some shots under the table? The way you’re pawing at me, you’d think you were the one in the drinking contest.”  

“Nah, I told you, I don’t drink. Messes with my eyes.” Satoru pats his index finger against his white wrappings for emphasis.

“Mmm, the six eyes, right? Powerful ability, from what little I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s a rare technique. Wanna see?”

You’d walked on, but once the question leaves his lips your feet swivel back, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s standing where he was, hands dug into the pockets of his pants, a lazy smile resting on his lips. The moonlight makes his hair shine, and the gleam is bright against the darkness of the street. The glow makes him look taller, imposing. He’s quiet as he waits for your answer and you take advantage of the extra time to mull over the strange man in front of you. 

He’s enigmatic; a force to be reckoned with, for curses and fellow sorcerers alike and, like most jujutsu users, a little crazy. Even knowing all of this, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s like the pull of a magnet. It tugs at the forefront of your mind and makes you step closer, wanting to see if you can unravel the puzzle that’s Satoru Gojo. 

“Fine,” you hear yourself reply, crossing your arms, steadfastly watching for his next move. “Go on. Let me see what all the hype is about.”

He grins and that mischievous look makes your heart beat race against your breastbone as yet another quake slips up your back. “Ready?” he asks, right thumb hooking under the fabric that covers his eyes. You nod once and the pad of his finger starts that short, upward, pull. 

He’s slow, painfully slow, in his unveiling. 

The smooth angle of his upper cheek peeks out, and he’s careful to roll up the white cloth as he goes. Then, right as he hits the groove of his lower eye, he stops, a frown pulling over his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know…” he contemplates, holding his thumb under his wrappings. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations? Can’t let you down. Not when you’ve been so patient. I know you’ve been wanting to ask, I can see it in your face. Every time we’d start an exorcism you’d look at me, like you were waiting, watching to see if I’d finally take off the coverings.”

Did you? 

Does it matter?

Do you want it to matter?

Flabbergasted by his all too true accusations and entirely eaten up with curiosity, you march up to him and wrap your fingers around his raised wrist, not noticing that you’re actually touching him and completely unaware of the alluring smile he flashes when your hand coils around his. “Ugh, come on! For once in your life, stop being such a tease! You’re never fair, always so… so pompous and… and–”

You’d shoved his hand upward as you began your preamble but as soon as the tightly wrapped cloth passed over his right eye you feel your breath leave your tensed body. 

His eyelashes are pale, the same ashen color as his hair, but they contrast beautifully with the lone eye that peers down. Beautiful? No, it’s more than that. It’s… it’s…

Truthfully, it’s indescribable and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

It’s blue; but it’s not an ordinary shade. No, the color seems to meld and shift before your shocked gaze, drifting from hue to hue as the color deepens and lightens. Clouds. It’s like clouds passing over a summer sky. The brightness of the cerulean ensnares you, and you can feel your mouth go dry as you stare up at him. 

His eyes are stunning, perfect, and irresistible, hauntingly so.

“So, what do you think?” Satoru asks, pulling his wrist from your grasp and snatching your limp hand in his, twining his long fingers between your own. His skin is warm and you need to say something, anything, but your mind is stuttering, lagging miles behind as you fall headfirst into the overwhelming pull of his presence. 

Finally, you unstick part of your tongue. 

“They’re… uh… I don’t… ha… God…” You shake your head roughly and the familiarity of that motion slips out of the trance he’s placed you under. As soon as you can think again, you jerk your hand from his and blindly walk down the darkened street. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and you can’t stop nibbling on your lower lip. 

It’s not… this isn’t how this is supposed to go, you think, trying vainly to get the shine of Satoru’s eyes out of your mind.

“Never answered my question,” Satoru coos beside you, his long legs quickly catching up with you. “What’s wrong? You like em’ a little too much?… Or…” 

“They… they’re kinda creepy,” you blurt out, fingers curling into your palms. 

“Creepy!” he gasps, hopping in front of you and lifting up both sides of his wrappings, granting you a peek of both eyes. You do your best to avoid looking at him head on, turning and weaving from him, but he dances closer each time you shift. Damn it. His animated performance makes you exhale a quiet chuckle, and he takes your amusement as a sign to continue, constantly placing himself in your way with a broad grin. 

“Stop!” you plead, openly laughing at his sudden burst of silliness. “Now you’re acting like a creep! Satoru! Don’t! Stop showing them to me! You’re losing all of your appeal! Isn’t part of your charm the mystery? Actually, that’s likely all of your charm. Come on, stop it, there’s a cop on that street corner, he’s gonna think you’re drunk and harassing me!”

“Whaaat!” Satoru gulps, whipping his head around to look at the tired policemen that’s leaning against a dim street lamp. “Oh no! The police! Quick (Y/N), before he spots us!” His long fingers snatch up your pliant wrist and he tugs you into a dark alleyway. 

“Hey! Where are you taking me? Officer!” you call out playfully as you balefully follow him, dragging your feet along the dusty ground. “He’s over here! Help!”

“Oi! Knock it off! You wanna get me arrested?”

“Oh please, there’s no way that guy is about to follow–”

“Shit! Shhh, he’s coming this way! Come on!” The sheer force of his grip yanks you forward and you stumble after him. He takes the corner of the next alleyway and the pair of you dash along the wet patches that litter the broken concrete. He’s moving at a tremendous speed, but his feet barely make a noise as he glides over the grimy ground and it takes everything you’ve got to just hold on and keep up.  

A few twists and turns later, you can finally see the bright lights of the busy street that your hotel is on and you feel a heavy exhale of relief leave your burning lungs. Satoru skids to a halt right before he tumbles onto the safety of the sidewalk that rests a few paces ahead and pulls you beside him, grinning down at you as you try to catch your breath. 

“I think we lost him!” he beams and you suck your teeth as you bend over, hands bracing themselves against your knees. “There…there’s no… he wasn’t actually chasing us. Even if he was, I doubt he can catch up now….” your voice trails off as you hear a distant shout from the alleyway and the thud of heavy boots. 

No. There’s no way you think dumbly as you stare into the darkness, eyes searching for movement. 

“See? I told you he was on to us. He’ll see us if he comes this way. What if… Oooh, lemme try something,” Satoru’s broad hands grab at you and he swiftly maneuvers you against the damp brick of the nearest building, careful not to scrape your back as he pushes you against the rust colored siding. “Just play along, I doubt he’ll notice. Don’t give me that look, it’s your fault he’s following us!”

“My fault? I didn’t… oh–”

His lips are sleeker than you’d imagined. 

That first, teasing kiss he gives you already has you lifting your head, following the beguiling smoothness of his mouth, silently asking him for another caress. When he leans down your hands bunch into the dark fabric of his uniform and you can feel his smile against your slackened lips. He doesn’t touch you; his fingers don’t wander to the back of your jaw or the dip of your skull, instead he opts to flatten his angles against your curves, pressing until you can’t feel anything but him. 

The next kiss he gives you has a little more bite behind it, literally. 

His sharp nose bumps your cheek and his teeth worry against the plush swell of your lower lip, sucking and nipping until you’re snatching for his shoulders, searching for some kind of leverage. His mouth parts and right when you think he’s about to deepen his strokes and teasing pecks, he leans back and cocks his head at your flustered expression. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he tells you, bracing one of his arms above your head. “It looks so fun in the movies.”

That cop could be right behind him, could be waiting for you both to stop your ridiculous routine and face the harsh gleam of reality, but you don’t care, not right now. 

Your hands had fallen from him when he pulled back, and the absence of his warmth makes you desperate to touch him again. But, when you snatch at the corners of his dark jacket, you’re met with that damned barrier. 

“Really?” you bemoan, licking at your kiss slick lips, trying again. “You’re the worst, you know that? You let me get used to the idea of having access to you and then just cut it–mmmph…” 

With a faint shudder of space, his barrier is lowered once more and his lips are back against yours. This time, his hands join in and he cups his fingers behind your ears, tilting you up as he glides his soft touch over you until you’re groaning. 

“Could have just told me you wanted more…” he rumbles in between his caresses, fingers tracing over the line of your jaw, your neck, and the slope of your shoulders. It’s like he can’t decide where he wants to go and you love the momentary burst of indecisiveness that’s broken over him. 

More, apparently, entails you asking him to come up to your room. 

He’d laughed when you’d mentioned it, your lips swollen and glassy from his attentions, and you’d almost taken it back, peeved by his genuine amusement at the idea, but then he’d plucked you into his arms and smoothed any lingering doubts with another flurry of nips and kisses. 

“This gonna make it into your report?” he grins, yanking his high collared jacket off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “I should,” you barb, pulling the long band of your hip pouch off, letting it clatter to the ground as your fingers work up the buttons of your own uniform. “Let them think that you’re abusing your status.” 

“Tch, me? Abuse my power? Never. Hey, I think you’re supposed to go slower with that. Don’t just yank all of your clothes off. You know, take your time, tease me a little,” Satoru chuckles, jerking his chin toward your busy hands.

“Oh? Wanting a show?” you ask, threading the last button and spreading the heavy material apart, revealing the thin shirt that’s obscuring his view of your breasts and stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, because taking all this gear off is never fun, or sexy for that matter…”

“Not with that attitude,” he hums, stepping closer, peeling his skin tight undershirt off and revealing the sleek planes of his rippled muscles. Most sorcerers are fit; and many boast beefier sets of pectorals and curving arches of biceps and triceps, but there’s something about the streamlined leanness of Satoru that’s making your hands itch. He’s not far, you could reach out for him, slip your fingers over the dips and beveled lines of his abdomen and follow that tempting strip of white that winds down the front of his pants, but that makes this too easy and there’s nothing about Satoru that’s easy.

“Mmm, that’s a new look.” His voice is distant to your ears, but the satisfied note that’s vibrating through his words makes you snap your head up, fingernails scraping against your palms. “You look like you wanna eat me (Y/N)… or maybe, taste is a better adjective. Awe, what’s the matter? Worried I won’t let you?”

You run your tongue over your lips and lift one hand, holding it steady and crooking your index finger at his brazen expression, pleased to see that cheeky smile of his falters a little. “Do me a favor, come here and take off that blindfold.”

“Ah-ha, so bossy,” he growls, voice sinking into that sinfully lower octave as he raises his broad hands to the back of his wrappings, unwinding the fabric and slowly advancing toward you. He stops when the tips of his toes are inches from your own, bracing his palms toward his face, holding the last strip across his eyes. “Wanna do the honors? Or are you expecting me to do all the work tonight?”

“As if. Besides…” you snicker, pulling two fingers to the remains of his blindfold and peeling it down, watching as his hair falls forward, slowly divulging the top of his forehead, pale eyebrows and that shock of avid blue that’s already gazing down at you. “I think you like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

“Ahh, looks like she figured me out,” Satoru groans, letting the ivory bindings fall to the floor, his hands already reaching for your waist. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to study him, but they’ll be time for that later, you reason, arms lacing around his chorded neck. 

This kiss is hungrier and his tongue immediately dances along the seam of your lips, pressing until you give in. It’s an awkward angle, but he expertly adjusts himself to you, slotting a warm palm against the small of your back and raising the other to curl into your hair, lifting you until it’s perfect. 

He’s greedy, devouring every inch you give him with a ravenous edge, but when you suck on his lower lip, he slips into something that’s clearly a little more unhinged. 

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s bending forward, trying to get as close to you as he physically can, hunching until you can trace your fingertips over the sharpness of his jaw. His teeth clink against yours as he snatches you up, and you can feel the sharp bulge of his length, the hardness grinding down your hips and stomach as he yanks you nearer. It’s hard to breathe, but he’s refusing to let you budge, lips avariciously seeking and pulling, leaving you with nothing else but the sheer enormity of his touch.  

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally letting you fall from his grasp, heaving out a few unsteady breaths. “You’ve got way too much on. Why do you still have so much on?” He plucks at your shirt but stops when he frees the edge from your pants, cerulean eyes bright in the moonlight. “Take it off,” he heaves, forehead pressing against yours, lifting his fingers from you. “Take it off for me, please?” 

You nod, a little taken aback by his sudden desperation, and he watches closely as you yank the thin material up, blue eyes shining as you unveil yourself. When the shirt passes over your breasts, he gives you a distracted kiss to the temple before he pulls away, freeing you to pull it over your head and sighing happily when it finally hits the floor, leaving you partially bare. As soon as your arms lower, he’s back against you, hands cupping at your hips, jerking you forward. “Whoa,” you gasp, bracing your palms against his chest. “Slow down. Let me get the rest of this–”

“No, no, no, no,” he chants, fingers smoothing up your spine. “Stop, for a second… just… just gimme a minute. You feel so nice. Your skin, it’s… it’s so warm and so fucking smooth, ahhh. Ohh, yes. A few more seconds (Y/N), just let me… It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this. I kinda forgot what it felt like and I don’t wanna let go, not yet.”

His head is bowed and that hauntingly blue gaze is covered by his winced eyelids, but he can’t seem to stop moving. Even as he asks you to hold still, to let him touch you, feel you, he keeps shifting his weight and burrowing his brow into the dip of your shoulder. 

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nails scritching at the clasp of your bra. “Please? Lemme take it off. Come on. I know you wanna touch me too, I saw how you were looking at me a minute ago. You’re so fucking cute, I can’t… ahaha, fuck, I sound insane. Look, I’ll slow down, I promise, just gimme a little more of you.”

When he mischievously snaps the strap of your bra against your shoulder blade, you can’t help but laugh at his infectious exuberance. His head lifts from you and he turns his attention to your neck, soft lips sucking and nipping at you until you’re wriggling in his hold. “Alright, alright! Just step back, Satoru! I’ll take it off,” you placate, knocking him away and huffing at the long face he gives you in return. “Here,” your fingers unhook the two pronged clasp and the delicate lace slips from your shoulders, falling to the carpeted floor with a hush. “Okay, that’s everything on the top half. Now what are–Ah! Satoru!” 

He takes full advantage of his superior speed and before you can blurt out a proper retort, he’s against you. 

His teeth worry at your earlobe and he immediately hoists you upward, seizing the lush curve of your ass and pulling you into his powerful arms, urging your legs to wrap around his trim waist. When you shakily oblige, he cups one lean arm under you, but the other drags you forward, scraping your newly bared breasts and stiffened nipples against the planes of his powerful pectorals. When he walks, you jostle in his grasp and coil your fingers around his neck, smiling when he moans contentedly at your reliance on his firm hold. “Damn,” he grunts, cocking his head so he can lick a wet circle into your pulse. “You feel fucking good (Y/N). So damn smooth, how are you so soft? God, I want more, I wanna feel everything.”

The front of his shins hit the edge of your bed and he tumbles you down, a dark grin spreading over his face as he watches you stretch out teasingly. He plants a knee into the soft bedding and braces both arms beside your head, leering over you. 

For a long breath, both of you study each other, eyes whisking over gleaming skin and the curves of your faces. Without the added heft of that blindfold Satoru’s snowy hair hangs loosely over his face, straight tendrils clinging to his brow, making him look younger, mellower, and so very handsome. Opting to take advantage of this lull, you reach up and thread your fingers into the silken strands.

When you reach the edge of his temple, you scrape your nails against his scalp, grinning as he lets a heavy exhale fall between his lips, cerulean eyes falling to a pleased half mast. “You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, gliding a wide palm up your side. You shake your head and keep twirling his hair across your fingertips, marveling at his own softness. “No. I just like your hair.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts, cupping a palm underneath one of your breasts and pulling his thumb over the swelling bud of your nipple. “Here I am, trying to feel you up, and you’re too distracted by my hair to appreciate it. How rude.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, arching into his hand as he tweaks and plucks at your pebbled tip. “You’re lucky I’m even… mmm… letting you do this.”

“Please. It was your idea, remember?”

Satoru lowers one of his braced arms, letting his weight fall heavily to one side as he keeps his deepening ministrations up. Your fingers are still buried in his hair when he drops his lips to your breast. You feel the flick of his tongue first, and the light tap has you bowing your back, gasping out a faint cry as his rough appendage continues to swipe and twirl over your sensitive flesh. Instinctively, your hands tug at his pearlescent strands and he tilts his head up, fixing you with a lazy stare. “That’s better, looks like I just need to refocus you, huh?” he muses, his words half garbled as he sucks your plump breast into his mouth. He keeps flicking his tongue over you as he suckles, lapping and nipping until you’re writhing under him. 

Once he’s satisfied, his free hand lowers to your grinding hips, forcing you to lay flat against the bed, switching his attention to the neglected twin, sucking and pressing open mouthed bites to your damp, shaking skin. 

A tight heat is coiling in your core and your thighs rub against each other, trying to cool the sharp pricks of arousal that are coursing through you. As soon as your hands fall from his head, Satoru picks up his pace, licking his sloppy tongue under your breasts and nibbling his way down your quivering stomach. “You’re still wearing way too much,” he scolds, fingers toying with the gold clasp of your pants. 

“It’s… oh… difficult to take things off when you… ah–won’t let me move more than two feet from you.” You’d meant it to sound a little firmer, but his constant touch is wearing down your focus, distracting you with brilliant flashes of his luminescent blues and whites. 

“Awe, (Y/N),” he whines, popping his hand against your hip, long fingers digging into your swelled curves. “That’s not fair. I told you, I always have my barrier up. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched someone, anyone? I mean really touched them?”

“Daw,” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering down at him. “You poor thing. The all powerful Satoru Gojo, too honed and practiced with his neutral technique that he can’t even hold anyone’s hand.” 

“Ha, such a jerk,” he laughs, exaggerating a wounded frown. “I bare my soul to you and this is how I’m treated?” 

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoff, yanking your legs from under him and popping up on your knees, hands reaching for him, curling under his jaw and urging him upwards. His eyes lock onto yours and the grin that tweaks the corner of his lips gives you an idea. “You said you wanted to touch more of me, right?”

As you wait for your answer, you scoot backwards, making him follow you across the bed, finally luring all of his sprawling form onto the cool sheets. “Mmhm,” he grunts, doing his best to keep close, teasing fingers inches from your skin at all times, always ready to stroke and cup each time you pause. When you hit the headboard you stop, studying his features, admiring the growing hunger that’s screaming its way out of his wide eyes.  

“You ever eaten a girl out?”

The question hangs for half a second and you can see his pupils dilate, the black threatening to swallow up the sky streaked blue of his eyes. Then, right when you’re about to tease him for his gaping mouth and flushed cheeks, he’s bowling past you, splaying out against the mattress and pulling you on top of him. 

“Fuck, that’s by far the best thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all month. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking about that question. Ouch! Stop squirming, you’re kneeing me in the ribs.” 

“I wouldn’t… Satoru! I can’t breathe if you hold me like that!” His arms are like cables, all tensed muscle and raw strength as he pins you against his heaving chest, lips kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into your arched collarbone. “Hurry up and take your pants off. And don’t say you can’t do it like this, you’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Is that going to be part of your teaching regime?” you smart, bucking your hips up so you can unclasp and wiggle your pants down your legs.

“Oooh, you’re right, that sounds good. Damn, I gotta start writing this shit down. That way I can have a whole list of euphemisms. Can you imagine? Molding young minds and helping them to stand up to all the bullshit that those so-called elders make everyone suffer under. All those rules and regulations, the stupid ins and outs they make us all jump through–”

“Hmm,” your voice falls to a gentle hum as you snatch at his chin, stilling his chatter with a single finger against his lips. “That sounds ambitious, but why don’t we take things a little slower, give that mind of yours something else to focus on?”

“Oh?” Satoru smirks, arching an ashen eyebrow at you. “Then you better get up here, before I get distracted again.”

“Don’t you mean down?”

“Huh, down? Ah, I see where the confusion is. Nah, I want you to ride my tongue, baby, so hurry up.” His long arms help him jerk you upward, easily lifting and enticing you forward. That early impatience is peeking out once more, and he pops his head up, nostrils flaring as your uncovered cunt drifts nearer. “Ah, God, I bet you’re so fucking wet. I can smell you from here. Come on, grab onto the headboard and let me get to it.”

Your legs shake as you plant them beside his head and you do your best to steady your pounding heart, pulling a thin stream of air through your parted lips. As soon as you touch the wood of the headboard, he’s gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises behind. The tip of his nose is the first thing you feel, and it’s so close to your pulsing clit that you inadvertently cant your hips forward. “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” he crows, nestling himself under you, his breath hot against your dampened folds and wet curls. 

The following slick slurp of his tongue and the slow pass of his lips make your head tip back. He’s surprisingly gentle, slowly licking his way along your labia, pulling and sucking as he goes, teasing closer to that tight bud that’s waiting, just a little bit higher. 

At first, you worry about crushing him, too caught up in the placement of your weight to fall into the haze his mouth is begging you to slip into. But then his lips latch onto you, careful to mouth in time with the thud of your clit, suckling and squeezing until you can’t help but grind down, earning yourself a sharp groan that reverberates against your trembling skin. Using the weight of the headboard as leverage, you roll your hips over him, shifting in time with his well-placed rhythm. 

He’s good, but even the great Satoru Gojo isn’t perfect, not all the time.

When he nips at you a little too hard you shift back, depriving him of your wet heat, loving the petulant sighs and moans he gives you when you do. “Ah, sorry. Gimme a little more time,” he bargains, fingers sinking into the voluptuous curve of your ass, tying to urge you back over his glistening lips. “I’ll do better, (Y/N). Besides, I want you to cum for me. You taste so fucking good and I want it, I want all of it. Hey! Don’t be like that! I said I’d do better. Come back here.”

God, he’s such a brat. 

Every time you shift away he’s got another string of exasperated pleas ready, twitching his fingers and shaking his pale head at your impudence. “Less talking,” you moan, shivering as he delves his tongue into you, feeling his grin as your cunt squeezes around his intrusion. “Ok, ok,” he growls, using his brute strength to overpower your tensed legs. “Mmm, yes baby, ah–just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck, you think as you sink your fingers into his hair, spurring him on, this feels way too good.

When he captures your clit between his teeth and tweaks the tip of his tongue against you, you can’t help but fall to pieces. Your orgasm hits you like a battering ram, seizing hold of your muscles as it rolls through you and scattering a faint spark of spots across your vision. Satoru’s arms wrap around your blindly pistoning hips, helping you to sink closer, ravenously slurping and swallowing down each wave of arousal that hits his gluttonous lips. 

You’re still shaking when he pulls out from under you, flipping you bonelessly under him as his hands finally rid himself of his clearly tented and damp pants. Your eyes are just clearing when you catch sight of him, studiously following that trail of white curls to his impressive length. His cock is long, curving proudly toward his chiseled stomach and bubbling a clear string of pre-cum from the flushed tip. You do your best to sit up, but as soon as he catches sight of your movement, his broad palm is pressing you back. “Ah-ah,” he taunts, stroking a hand over his swollen cock and wiping the last of your slick from his face against his shoulder. “Keep still for me, ‘kay?’” 

His wide palms spread your legs apart, and he soothes his fingertips along your skin as he tugs a few heady groans from himself. “Fuck, you look so good. You’re so goddamn pretty. When you were sitting there at the bar and you looked so fucking happy I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you just looked so nice. Haven’t even known you a week, and I’m already obsessed with hearing that laugh of yours. You put some kinda spell on me, huh? That what this is?”

���Ugh, stop talking, Satoru,” you threaten, watching the steady ebb and flow of his clenched fist. His cock looks so smooth and you’re desperate to reach for it, to take hold of velvety flesh and see how long it would take for the world’s strongest sorcerer to be putty in your hands. 

He arches a pale brow at your blatant stare. “You want it?”

“I want you,” you correct, and the smile that breaks across his handsome face makes your heart squeeze. 

“Awe, how can I possibly say no to that?” he asks, gleefully lining himself up with your slit. Despite his early eagerness, he’s taking his time with this part, running the bulbous head of his cock over you, gathering up some of your gossamer strands, slicking himself with your dripping arousal. “Sorry,” he amends when he makes another pass along your folds. “It’s been awhile and I want to take it all in. I don’t wanna rush this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, lifting your hands to pass them over his stomach, watching as his muscles ripple under your delicate touch. “Just don’t take too long or you’re not going to be on top for much longer.”

“That a threat or a promise, baby?” Satoru leers, finally slipping his tip past that first, tight ring of your entrance. Despite his bravado, his lips curl over his teeth and he lets out a low hiss as he sinks into you, inch by shallow inch. The pressure of his cock makes you arch, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He bows his head and his ethereal gaze falls behind his shaking eyelids as he thrusts forward, edging himself along until he bottoms out within you. Fuck, you feel so full.

The stretch of him makes you shake and you’re grateful he’s taking his time when he stills, lips smacking distracted kisses over your heated cheeks and parted lips, giving you time to adjust to him, and he to you. After a few steadying breaths, his teeth bite at the hollow of your throat and he pulls his hips back, grinning as your hands grasp into the sheets, a sharp whine escaping you. He echoes your sentiment, letting a gasping string of curses tumble from his shaking lips as he ruts forward again, one hand gripping at your right leg, prying you from his waist and slinging the trembling limb over his shoulder.

This angle has him pressing against something wonderful and sharp, and you can’t help but gasp out his name as he starts to methodically ram into it, over and over. You can feel him swell at the sound of your pleading moans and you savor the feel of his cock throbbing against your tender walls. “More,” you shudder, fingers trying to hurry his steady hips as he diligently cants into you. 

“In a minute,” he grunts, biting at your pliant skin, arms coiling under your back. “This feels too fucking good. Let me just… ah… fuck…” 

He slows, moving at a pace that sets your teeth on edge, and you thrash under him. Although his cock is digging against that aching place that’s sending dots and stars across your eyes, it’s not enough pressure. Licking your lips, you worm one of your hands between the two of you and pinch and roll your fingers over your clit, easing some of the tingling bittersweetness that’s pulsing over you. 

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Satoru chuckles, releasing your leg from his tight grip and re-lacing it around his hips. “How do you want it, baby? You want it fast? Or do you want it hard? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, peeking up at his enthralling cerulean, willingly ensnaring yourself in the intensity of his gaze. “I just want more of you.”

“Tch,” he hums, cupping a hand against your warm cheek. “Don’t say shit like that, I might end up falling for you.”

The laugh that echoes from your lips is swiftly cut off by a gasp as he abruptly ups the pace of his thrusts. He’s quick, but he’s still listening and watching for what you like. When you moan he’s right there with you, steadying his rhythm, and when you call out his name, he digs a little harder. 

It’s too much. It feels raw, like you’re scratching at a cut. Like there’s some itch that you just can’t reach. 

All of it, the feel of his meaty balls slapping against the sticky plushness of your ass, and those breathy moans makes your head spin. The intensity of the moment slips your fingers from your clit, but he makes up for their loss by grinding down each time he sinks into your cunt, scraping the hard edge of his pelvic bone against your throbbing bud. 

He’s good. Fuck.

You can feel the hazy slope of your orgasm approaching and you blindly arch up each time he careens downward, ensuring that he’s hitting right where you need him to. His movements start to hit a lull as he slips into his own fog of lingering pleasure, dipping his head to your neck and sighing contentedly when you kiss at his temple. But the tenderness of your touch must knock him out of his own whirring thoughts and he rewards you with another set of rapid fire thrusts, his lips pulling from your neck to seek out yours, kissing and nipping until you’re gasping for air. 

“Mmmm,” he moans, breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good and you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna’ cum for me? One more time?”

You do your best to gulp out a reply, but the abrupt press of his calloused thumb against your clit makes you shake instead, a tingling rush of heady arousal racing its way up your spine. Smiling down at your awed expression, he lifts his fingers away and uncoils your legs from his waist, flinging them both over his broad shoulders, his knees settling forward as he continues to roughly thrusts his hips forward, driving you quivering body into the soft sheets. 

“You like that? Does it feel good? Does it? Fuck baby, I’m begging you, give it to me one more time. Can you do that for me? Can you cum for me? I want you to cum on my dick, ah, come on (Y/N), just once more, that’s all I’m asking. You can do it, can’t you?”

He’s rasping his questions against the shell of your ear, hands cupping at the side of your face, keeping you close as he races toward his own end, voice lifting into a frantic plea as he hurtles closer, desperate to feel your satisfaction rippling around him before he completely looses himself to the aching pleasure of your body. 

“I–” you choke out, arms lacing around his back, nails pressing half moons into his skin. He moans at the bite of your touch and tilts your hips upward, seeking more of you. 

That change is all it takes. 

The tip of his cock presses down, lifts, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars. 

“I’m… yes! Oh, fuck. Satoru, just like that. Don’t… don’t stop!” For once, he doesn’t tease. He just smiles, his face flushed, pale cheeks dusted a pleased pink and repeats the motion, careful to keep everything absolutely steady. The repeated push and pull, the warmth of your cunt, the feel of your skin, it’s making his cock throb and his heart race, but he’s determined to see you break. 

There. There it is. Fuck, you’re so pretty.

On an outward pull of his hips, your back arches and your thighs tense and he lets out a long growl, quickly breaking his fastidious rhythm and sinking back into you, gasping as you flutter around him. A new flush of wetness leaks out of your cunt and squelches between your pinned legs, dripping over the cleft of your ass.

He only lasts a few extra ruts, but the feel of him swelling and pulsing inside your tender pussy almost topples you over the edge again and you cling to him in the aftermath of his release, your heaving breasts catching against his flat pectorals. 

With a quick peck, he slowly lowers your legs and eases himself out of you, blue eyes widening at the sight of his softening hardness leaving your leaking pussy. “I don’t know which I like better,” he contemplates, leaning back on his haunches and slicking his index finger up the pooling dribble you’ve both left behind, spreading the spidery traces across his hand. “You wet and dripping for me or filled to the brim with my cum.” His lewd comment makes you huff out a low groan of exasperation and you roll off of the bed, shaking your head as you steady yourself and walk toward the bathroom. 

After a brisk rinse in the shower, you pad back into the darkened room, fully expecting to see an empty bed. You’re not sure why that’s your first thought, but something about Satoru doesn’t scream: I’m the kind of guy who likes post coitus cuddles. So the sight of him, bundled under your sheets, white hair poking just above the edge of the blankets, is a surprise.

“Oh,” you pause, dropping your towel on the floor as you openly gape at him. “You’re still here… I, well, I figured you’d take off.”

“Huh?” Satoru croaks, popping his head up, his face comically askew. “What kinda guy do you think I am?”

“Apparently the kind that stays over,” you snicker, digging around for your discarded bra and panties. 

He lets out a mock gasp, popping a hand against his cheek. “How could you say that! And after I gallantly brought you back here?”

“And fucked me,” you remind him, slipping your lacy underwear back on and re-adjusting the clasp of your bra.

“That too!” he qualifies, arching a pale eyebrow at your impassive face. “I’d say I was pretty generous. You did cum twice after all.”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest and perching beside the edge of the bed, shaking your head at the sprawling man under your covers.

“Come on, you wouldn’t seriously make me walk all the way back to the school at this hour. What if something happens to me? How could you live with yourself, knowing you kicked me out into the cold?”

“It’s summer,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “And you’re… what six foot three… and you have the legendary six eyes… I mean, I think you’ll be ok.”

“(Y/N),” Satoru begins, narrowing those bright blue eyes at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is it your habit to sleep with helpless guys and then kick them out? You’re so cruel.”

“Stop it,” you warn, snatching at the sheets and yanking them off of his naked form.

“No!” he protests, fingers clutching vainly at the thin cover. “Your bed is so nice! Come on, I’ll be good and I don’t snore. Well, not that I know of anyway…”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t have the energy for this and we have to be up in four hours. Just shush and scoot over.”

“Oh? Do you not have the energy because I fucked it out of you?”

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to stay the night?” 

“Alright, alright,” he splays his hands up in supplication and makes room for you, watching closely as you curl up beside him, a smile playing over his lips. “Hey,” he asks once you’ve closed your eyes, leaning close to your reposed form. 

“What?” you groan, cracking an eye open.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Satoru…”

“Mmhm?”

“Shut up.”

notes: hehe. i feel like he’d be so freaking chatty in bed. plus, how could i not make him a little touched starved? stop making me like characters that just wanna be held universe, gosh :3c

[nagisa-shiota-worthy-shit]

Colours of Summer

Karmagisa Week 2021 day 7 prompt: colours wordcount: 2418

basically: a collection of short scenes occuring on one hot summer day with Karmagisa, based on colours and summer objects. (might be extended some time after Karmagisa week, on AO3)

---------------------------------------- --Pink Swimming Trunks--

“What. is. that?” Karma uttered. 

Nagisa sighed in response, turning a little red in the face, but hiding most of his embarrassment by avoiding eye contact. The object of embarrassment? the soft pink swimming trunks he was now wearing. Karma had never seen his boyfriend wearing them, and he didn’t think Nagisa ever would. Nagisa had a bad relationship with the colour pink. 

“T-they’re supposed to be white,” Nagisa explained, “My mom washed them but accidentally mixed some laundry and-” 

“You’re kidding me,” Karma started laughing, “What kind of cliched tv trope shit is this?” 

Nagisa didn’t respond to that, instead walked past his boyfriend to put on the white shirt he’d brought for himself. Karma did the same, not wishing to travel all the way to the beach shirtless, but he was still laughing as he did so. At least he tried to do it quietly. 

Eventually, he had enough of their silence. He turned to his boyfriend again, who was now putting food into their bag, and walked up to him. He threw his arms around him, hugging him from the back, and rested his chin on his head. The height difference made this a very simple gesture for him. Although, he was sure Nagisa wasn’t that big of a fan of the reminder that he was small. 

“Pink still looks good on you,” Karma said, as a form of apology. 

At first, Nagisa didn’t say anything. He just stood there accepting the embrace. Eventually there was a sigh, a shuffling of shoulders, and a soft humm. Karma knew that pretty much meant forgiveness. Still, he kept the other boy in his embrace. Well, with Karma’s superior power it was also a bit like a form of restraining the smaller boy. 

“Come on,” Karma finally said, “We have a hot summer’s day to waste.” 

--Blue Water--

Nagisa had been standing on the edge of the water for a while now, hesitating going in. Every once in a while, he stuck his leg out when the high tide came close enough to him, carefully trying out the water’s temperature. Every single time, he shrunk together slightly, and moved back a few small steps. Karma was getting a little sick of waiting. 

“Can you come in already?” He complained, “the water is really nice once you actually get used to it.” 

A difficult look appeared on Nagisa’s face. It appeared he was considering his options. Really, there wasn’t much to consider. They’d traveled all this way to have a fun beach day, at some point Nagisa would have to get in the water. Stalling it would only make it worse. For someone who complained so much about the hot weather, Nagisa sure was being petty about a little cold water. He should just get in and feel refreshed. 

Karma looked over his shoulder, taking in the view of the sea stretching all the way to the horizon. The blue sea was shimmering, reflecting the sun’s light, and shining in Karma’s eyes. When he turned around there was no sun irritatingly blinding him. Instead, he saw Nagisa once again jumping away from the water. 

“If you don’t get in now, I’m going to drag you in here myself,” Karma threatened. 

Nagisa pursed his lips, looked down at the water, and took a moment to consider the threat. Of course, Karma knew he was serious, but he figured Nagisa knew it too. This was the kind of action Karma was very prone to: annoying and physical. Still, Nagisa was one of the few people capable of escaping these situations. Basically, he could ‘cute’ his way out of it. Karma was always a little weak to his boyfriend’s charms. So, Nagisa just stood there. He didn’t make any move indicating he was going to get in the water. 

Karma looked him in the eye, trying to send him a warning glare. Nagisa, in response, just put a slight smile on his face. There was no denying for Karma that Nagisa looked pretty and soft right there, however, there was also no denying Nagisa just had to get in the damn water. 

“Do I need to count down?” Karma asked, as if he was talking to a toddler. 

Nagisa rolled his eyes. “I’m not eight.” 

For a second, Karma considered his next comment. He decided to not go for the comeback, trying to somewhat stay on his boyfriend’s good side. Then again, if he did really drag Nagisa into the water, that would be ruined anyways. To be fair, that would be laughed off. A comment about Nagisa perhaps looking like an eight year old was something Nagisa was a little more sensitive about. 

“3” Karma started counting. 

Nagisa squinted for a second, but then crossed his arms, standing by his decision to annoy Karma, apparently. That wasn’t going to stop Karma just yet. 

“2” 

Nagisa looked away for less than a second, before looking back at Karma. Most likely, he was considering whether Karma was being serious. 

“1” 

Nagisa still stood there. It appeared he was not getting into the water of his own accord. 

“zero, okay here we go.” 

Karma moved forwards, quickly running towards his boyfriend with water splashing at his side. Nagisa barely had any time to react, making an attempt to turn around and run away, but he was just a little too slow to escape Karma. Karma held his arms open wide and embraced his boyfriend, entangling his arms in there as well, but instead of making it some kind of hug, just picked him up. 

At first Nagisa just yelped, confused about what had just happened. Then, he started kicking, trying to wiggle himself free from his boyfriend’s grip. There were some noises of complaint, but Karma ignored those. The grip he had was tight and just a tad too powerful for Nagisa to escape. 

He walked back into the water until it came up to his knees. With the struggling Nagisa still in his grip, he took a ready stance. His lips were curled into a mischievous smirk. He was excited for this part. 

All of a sudden, he dropped Nagisa. Well.. dropped… It was more like he threw the other boy into the water. Nagisa yelled and, with a big splash, landed in the water. After struggling for just a short moment, he sat up, shoulders and up above the water. The look on his face spoke of dissatisfaction. 

Karma, on the other hand, just laughed. 

“And now you’re in!” He announced. 

Before he knew it, Nagisa had gotten up. With inhuman speed, he moved around Karma, hooking his leg around his, and used his hands to push him over. Karma was being tackled. He made an attempt to save himself but, sadly, Nagisa’s tackle was pretty waterproof. Karma, on the other hand, wasn’t waterproof, and landed in the water with a splash. 

When he came up again, he had a challenging smile on his face. One look at Nagisa confirmed he was feeling the same. His boyfriend looked proud, but not entirely done with their insignificant battle. It also, to Karma at least, looked a little hot. 

“That's how we’re going to play this, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Depends,” Nagisa shrugged, “Are you ready to fight a battle you can’t win.” 

There was no malicious intent in either of their words. Both of them had meant it in a playful manner, and both thrived on the friendly competition between the two of them. So, yes, Karma was more than intrigued by Nagisa’s sudden cockiness. He had to make sure he got rid of that arrogant smile on Nagisa’s face. 

“Game on.” 

--Red Burnt Skin--

When they’d gotten back to Karma’s place late in the afternoon, nothing but complaints left Karma’s mouth. His skin was burning red, slight patches of white skin visible on places that had been covered during the day. The contrast was great, and so was the pain. 

“My skin is going to burn off,” Karma grumbled. 

“No it’s not,” Nagisa spoke matter of factly, “and I feel like this is the perfect time for an ‘I told you so.’” 

Karma just grumbled, really not up for that discussion. As he fell down on his couch, his skin rubbed slightly against a pillow with a more rough fabric, and he felt himself cringe all throughout. He pouted, trying to gain pity attention from his boyfriend. 

That attention didn’t appear to be happening. Nagisa was just unpacking some empty food containers from their bag, focused as he stacked them up in an attempt to bring all of them to the kitchen in one go. From the look on his face, one would say he wasn’t too bothered about his boyfriend’s pain. Karma, being said pained boyfriend, wasn’t a fan of that. 

“Nagisa~” His voice came out in a singsong manner, “Don’t be mean, I’m suffering.” 

When Nagisa turned around to look at him, the look in his eyes spoke of book volumes. On a surface level, he looked unimpressed, eyebrows raised as he looked down at Karma laid down on the couch. In his eyes was also a hint of disappointment. Karma had grown rather familiar with that particular look, so he was one of the few people who could read past the bigger emotions Nagisa portrayed on his face. Yes, he knew Nagisa very well, and he knew Nagisa thought that Karma was overreacting. 

“I got a little burnt too,” Nagisa argued. 

“You didn’t get sunburned,” Karma complained, “You got sun kissed.” 

Karma couldn’t help but be a little grumpy about it all. Although there was some truth to Nagisa’s words, a little sunscreen like his boyfriend had used would have been wise, it still felt unfair how easily Karma burnt in the sun compared to Nagisa. Even without the sunscreen, Nagisa barely tanned. Meanwhile Karma had to live like a lobster. 

“I have some aloe vera,” Nagisa offered with an annoyingly caring tone, “Do you want me to put some on your shoulders?” 

“... yes please.” 

--Orange Sunset--

Nagisa poked Karma’s bright red arm, earning a groaned response from him. He was still a little grumpy over the whole sunburn ordeal, but at the very least he had now somewhat cooled down due to the aloe vera Nagisa had been so gracious to share with him. So, the complaining had stopped, and Nagisa suggested going on a walk to end their long day. To Karma, ending a long day with another physical activity was a little weird, considering it just made the day longer, but Nagisa seemed really eager to go outside again, so he opted to not complain about it. 

It was a rather enjoyable walk. Nagisa talked throughout most of it, Karma only interjecting a few times with a funny side comment or fact Nagisa wasn’t aware of yet, and that was just fine. Karma liked hearing Nagisa’s rambling. The enthusiasm in Nagisa’s voice as he described a particularly spectacular scene in an action movie he’d recently seen was cute. Why would Karma ever complain about seeing Nagisa happy? 

“Oh woah,” Nagisa suddenly interrupted himself mid-story, “The sky looks so cool right now.” 

The sky they were looking at was in fact very pretty, Karma had to agree. Above them, an orange colour had started to spread out, becoming a deeper version of its own colour as their eyes were directed towards the horizon. The sun, another shade of orange, was about halfway down by now, yet still illuminated the world very well. Just like the rest of the day, there were no clouds to interrupt the bright colours of the sky. 

When Karma looked back at Nagisa, he noted that the orange lighting of the sunset was more than a little flattering on the boy. His skin was touched by the light, changing its tone and making him appear like he was gold. If Karma didn’t know better, he would say Nagisa looked like a god. 

Except, he knew better, and Nagisa would respond awkwardly to that statement. He wouldn’t know what to say and just stammer his way through. On any other occasion, Karma would have made the comment, considering he enjoyed teasing his boyfriend. At that moment, however, he didn’t feel like ruining the moment. 

“It’s pretty,” was all Karma said. 

Nagisa seemed a little taken back by the comment. “That’s all? Just pretty?” 

“Well, it is.”

“Not even a ‘like you’ comment?” 

“Are we fishing for compliments now, Nagisa?” 

Nagisa turned red, although his cheeks had already been the crimson colour because of the day’s worth of sun. He looked away from Karma, a slight pout on his face and a loss for words. It was a common, yet still amusing, sight. So, Karma just laughed at him. That was his usual response. 

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Nagisa defended himself, “I-I meant it like-” 

Karma just held up his hand, interrupting the other boy’s explanation. He didn’t need a stuttering explanation of something Karma fully understood. He’d been joking, obviously. There had been so many occasions where Karma had made the exact joke Nagisa had been referring to, so he couldn’t exactly blame Nagisa for almost expecting it. It had been the perfect set up, actually. 

Instead, he turned to look at the sunset again, admiring its beauty and the moment it was creating for him. As cheesy as it all was, he really did feel the need to share that moment with Nagisa. Sunsets were, perhaps, a little overdone as a romantic setting, however, it still worked so well. Why fix what wasn’t broken? Why not use this moment for his own cheesy gains? 

Nagisa seemed to share that sentiment, because the moment Karma held his hand closer to his boyfriend, he immediately grabbed hold of it. They swung their entangled hands about for a bit in silence, watching the sun slowly disappear down into something unknown. Behind them, the sky had already started turning a darker shade of blue, but that didn’t matter to them. The approaching darkness wasn’t the thing they were focused on in that moment. 

With the last rays of sunshine still hitting their face, Karma turned to Nagisa, pulling his boyfriend closer to him. One hand went to hold Nagisa’s cheek as he moved forwards and connected their lips. Their kiss went on until the sun was completely down, darkness slowly falling over the world, and the summer’s day had finally ended. 

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hi Moosh! Congrats on 666!! Can I maybe ask for Yamato, GN reader and training together? Reader isn't that strong but does their best for Yamato, who in all his enthusiasm accidentally hurts them? Nothing too serious though and they laugh it off. just some casual fluff and banter~ Thank you so much!

Did this become a comforting Yamato fic? Yes, yes it did.

(Wano spoilers beneath cut!)

So first of all I like to think with Kaido's genetics in him, Yamato has tons ridiculous amounts build up strength, strength that he sometimes has trouble with controlling sometimes when he gets into his usual moodlets of being too excited he accidentally hurts things and people he necessary doesn't want to which in the end leaves him feeling a little bit guilty about it especially when it comes to accidents with his s/o. 

If there's one thing Yamato loves most, it's training. Since he has spent most of his life held up ok Onigashima, with no kids his age to play with or really anything else to do beside go off and reread through Kozuki Oden's old journal it was kind of his only real activity to do. Though of course not that he doesn't mind, he does want to get as strong as Oden after all so when you come to him to ask him to train you, he's completely overjoyed! 

Most times Yamato doesn't know his own strength, to him the lightest of touches to someone of average height (and a little bigger) can come down full force and knock them into the nearest wall, or hell there was that one time he sent Sasaki all the way across the island and they had to get a rescue boat to go get him near the mainland of Wano and his father didn't stop yelling at him for weeks because of it (not because of Sasaki's injuries but because as when he was flying where he landed just so happened to be the Yonko's next shipment of Sake...which made him go into dragon god pissy mode on the coast of the mainland)

So Yamato has to keep his strength in check in at all times but with you around he has to make extra triple hard not to use more force that the absolutely bare necessity when it comes to handling you, which over time the son of the Yonko has become quite positive that he does a good job in doing, and that's why he thinks himself capable to train with you. 

Since it's just training and you're just not all that experience with close corters, he doesn't use his trusty kanabo just setting it aside to the nearest pillar, still in grabbing distance just in case the two of you get interrupted by his father's 'company' and instead the two of you just use wooden practice swords. The swords are very clunky in Yamato's hands, too small for him if he really wanted he could easily break the thing into splinters with nothing but a simple flex of his fist if he really wanted to, but he doesn't want that he's training you after all. So he has to hold the wooden blade with the lightest but steadiest of grips so it doesn't fling out of his hand with the first clash. 

Once he goes into battle stance he watches as you look him up and down and try to mimic his stance but you're doing it more lopsided and too crouched down, he can't help but to squeal with laughter at how ridiculous you look, making you frown and demanding to know what's so funny (which only makes him laugh more) After a quick apology and quick kiss to the cheek saying;

"I can't help it when you look that adorable!"

This earning a harsh heat to build up on your face.

Yamato helps fix your stance to be just like how he was standing previously, giving up spine chilling instructions as he bends down to meet the height of your ear. 

When your boyfriend steps back in front of you with a wide smile on his face with a - 

"You catch all that, (Name)?" You can't help the uncontrollable thumping of your heart as you instantly nod your head along. 

"Uh huh." 

"Great! Let's do this!" 

You were not ready to do this - all the information he said had just zonked right into one ear and out of the other, with him being so close like that it was almost hard to breathe with his large hands moving your limbs around like a mannequin doll and his sweet voice tingling in your ear you couldn't help but feel all given information immediately just melt away. 

Wing it! Just wing it (Name)!

As the large man quickly got back into his battle stance, you felt your joints begin to freeze up absolutely determined to keep yourself in the pose he put you in. 

"Three," He counts. 

It can't be that hard right? Just copy how you've seen the other's fight- it's fine. 

"Two," 

It's basically just a giant glorified stick anyway, if you get hit it's not like you're going to die or anything relax. 

"One," 

And besides it's Yamato, he-

"Go!" 

Before the word is even registered to you the Yonko's son dashes at your sword in hand and already down low in preparation to just swing. Your mind rushes for some sort of reaction you rotate your wooden blade to block but when your lover clashes into you with a quick rough and hard strike that cuts the wood in your hands in half, the mer force itself sending a mighty shock and sending you rocketing onto the ground, your body sliding across the wooden flooring. 

Yamato's whole world slows in that moment, seeing your body just ragdoll on the floor like that makes him immediately drop his weapon and he springs over to you, gently cradling your head and his copper eyes darting around for any faintest hint of blood.

"(Name)?! (Name)!! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I shouldn't - shouldn't -" 

He knew better. He thought he was being gentle enough but he knew better! This was a terrible idea he shouldn't have went through with it he should have agreed he knew the risks and look the immediate first thing that happens he hurts- 

Your sudden laughter cuts his thoughts short, he looks down at you to see you shifting around to feel at your head. 

"I know I said that I can take you hits but do you have to treat me like a damn baseball, Yama?" 

He immediately pulls you into a hug before flinching and pulling back lightly to see if you're absolutely okay before going in to hug you more gently. 

"I'm sorry," his voice is muffled by your hair. "-I got too excited to finally train with you because I've never really gotten to train with anyone other than my father and-and I thought about Oden and what I strong warrior he was and how pretty, fun, and exciting you are and how- and I just-" 

"Hey, hey, hey, Yamato it's fine. I'm fine." Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, making his verge of tear blurred eyes look at you. 

"I'm fine. I promise it's just a bump. Besides I've been through worse than falling on the floor, this is nothing but barely a bruise." You begin to get yourself up with your lover's help to your feet, his hands never leaving your back. You smirk to yourself as you point to the remains of your training sword. 

"Although I wouldn't say the same about that though." 

When you turn around you see Yamato's frown deepens and his gaze meeting sadly at the floor, once again you have to tell him that's it's okay and this took most of the hit away, which get him to cheer up a little bit but not long enough to plop himself cross legged on the floor and entangle his fingers through his long white hair, you slowly come back down to sit next to him. 

"I really thought I'd had control of my strength around you - I thought that everything was under control and I wouldn't be able to hurt you that I could hold your hand without fear of crushing it or cuddling and hugging you without fear of squashing you to death but I don't - this proves that I-" Your hand clasps with his. 

"You're fine, I'm fine. We're both fine. Look, you're not hurting me now are you?" You hold up your entwined hands, which after a long pause Yamato gives the gentlest of squeezes. 

"Yeah, but-" 

"No buts, you do have this under control. And if we can't directly train sword to sword together that's fine! Yes sword skills are useful especially in the New World but, Yamato, that's not the main reason I wanted to train with you - I love you and I just want to spend time with you, doing the things you enjoy doing!" 

Copper eyes widened in shock as he meets your gentle gaze, he looks down for a second as if pondering something before looking back up at you with the smallest gape of his mouth, speechless, as the one not twine with yours hesitantly reach up to cup the side of your cheek but with a flinch he immediately attempts to pull his hand back, only for you to catch it and place his warmth to the side of your face, his thumb slowly grazing your bottom lip. Ever so slowly his lips flush against yours, quite awkward with the movement but one your hands leave to wrap around his neck you pull him closer he starts quickly catching up with what to do with his tongue. 

When you pull back is all the sadness is lost, with instead those wide pupil blown eyes and white that slowly cascades to a deep neon that frames his face and falls over his shoulder, his lips now plump and kissed does his expression show nothing but pure loving infatuation. 

Which with one look, it all becomes clear how bad this man has it for you. His head tilts as he eyes dart your face, as if he were taking your image if were for the very last time. Finally a small smile appears over his lips as he bumps his forehead to yours.

"I love you too, (Name)." He closes his eyes before breathing through his nose. "Though I am a little sad that I can't train with you, I was looking so forward to it all this week but - I guess that excitement was the exact problem." You peck a quick kiss to his lips before letting your fingers play with his hair. 

"We'll work on it, alright? You've already come to practice with being as gentle as you are right now I'm sure we can also practice that in a train sense. I promise you're not going to hurt me." At first there's a look of subtle doubt in his eyes when he looks into yours but he pushes it back with a nod. 

"How about this? For now let's just focus on positioning - like this!" 

You stand back to your feet, grabbing Yamato's forgotten wooden sword off from the floor, trying your best to mimic his stance from previous, the Yonko's son watches how you stand before bursting into laughter. Your eyebrow twitches before yet again demanding to know what's so damn funny. Your lover stands to his full height towering over you to gently move your limbs around to where you're in proper placement. 

"Oh nothing, just that you look like my father when's he's doing his drunk impression of Charlotte Linlin begging for her 'child support.'" 

Okay that got a giggle out of you.

For the rest of the day the two of you practiced your stances together, once you were comfortable with that you took the next step to attacking stances and even though with him being so close and talking into your ear and moving your limbs around like a doll you forced yourself not to get lost in the inner screaming of your heart telling you just to continue kissing the man until the world's end you listened to his teaching words. 

From how he currently spoke, his tone sounded nothing like how it did previously if you just so happened to walk in now you wouldn't even ever be able to tell he was on the verge of tears a mer hour before. He just looks...so happy. With that handsome smile on that handsome face, you look back at him as he happily blabbers on about some techniques that Oden described in his journal, do you can't help but to smile with glee like an idiot around him. He's just so excited and happy and it's so contagious and it's a feeling that you never want to go away. 

And you're sure of one look of how bad it all looks for you of how bad you have it for the man, something you also to never go away. 

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Can we get some spare Launo headcannons for July?

Launo sucked big time at knight school when he first arrived—he didn’t exactly have any background help given no one in his family was a knight either. He was basically assigned the equivalent of “equipment manager” during the first few months. And when he did get proper actions with a broadsword or a bow, Launo struggled with footwork and precision and all the minute details of a duel so he often got his ass handed to him.

But one the top kids in Launo’s class thought he was cool anyways—that was, one Arcadius Hartell. Pretty, rich, ace with sword, bow, spear, and anything sharp, and pretty much had no flaws or weaknesses. Launo at first thought the guy was just pitying him, the kid who has never won a single sparring match and consistently put on training dummy duty (that is reattaching their heads when they got lopped off)

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Arcadius came to ask something from him.

“How do you do that?”

Launo turned from the training dummy he was working on. “S-Sorry, what?”

“The...the thing you do. With the...thing?” Arcadius pointed to the needle and thread Launo was holding as he was reattaching the dummy’s forearm. “How do you do that?”

Launo scrunched his eyebrows in confuzzlement. “This is, uh, well. It’s just sewing I guess. If this guy were real I guess it would be stitching, haha...” He patted the dummy’s wood shoulder playfully as if joking with a pal—the dummy immediately tipped over, Launo coughed and stepped in front of the mess to ignore it. Arcadius nodded thoughtfully.

“So, do you have a special technique or something?”

“I mean, not really, it’s just regular old sewing...”

“But I assume you’ve spent years training on the art.”

“I...uh...I guess? My mom taught me.”

“Oh! So it’s like...an apprenticeship...?”

“...Are you under the impression that sewing is some sacred gift that gets passed down to the worthy or something?”

“.........no....”

The two boys just stood awkwardly for a moment longer, Launo studying Arcadius’ face.

“You don’t even know what sewing is do you?”

“O-Of course I do! It’s the...thing.” He made a sword motion with his fingers, as if wielding a tiny blade. “You stab the stuff and it repairs. With the...” Arcadius squinted as he thought for a moment, “...stool...”

“Spool?”

“Yeah! That! So, look, you’re pretty skilled at everything—“

“I am??” Launo took a step back in shock.

“Yeah! You always fix the equipment, and somehow haul around all those weapons, and make us cool lunches—“

“I don’t know, I made Rubeo vomit last week cause I forgot he hates blueberries...”

Arcadius shook his hands. “N-Not the point. And he sort of deserves it. The fact is you’re obviously leagues ahead of the game—“

“I—Actually I wouldn’t say—“

“—so you just gotta teach me everything you know!” Arcadius pumped a fist and closed his eyes. “How could I ever call myself a knight if I don’t even learn the basics of equipment management! Who will mend the wounded holes in my soldier’s pride if I can’t even fix the tears in my uniform! A mountain’s peak is equivalent to the shallow shore if you have no bearing of the heights you soar.”

Launo blinked. “Are you...okay?”

Arcadius scratched his head. “Aha...sorry. That’s a quote from Aria Nori’s newest volume. Guess I was too into the moment there.”

“Oh! The Zora poet! I’ve read her stuff! I haven’t read her latest volume, but my dad often binds her books—“

“Really?!” Arcadius’ eyes were suddenly star struck. “That’s so cool! This is all the more reason you gotta teach me this stuff.” He waved again at the collapsed training dummy. “Maybe start with the beetle and thread.”

“Needle. D-Do you not know what a needle is?”

Arcadius’ eyes glazed over. “...no...oh my gods that’s not gonna be on the test is it?? I’m so screwed—“

“Nonono it’s not, I’m just...” Launo bit his tongue. Now that he thought about it, he never really saw anyone else in his class do mundane house chore stuff. They were far too busy sharpening swords and bragging about their parents or grandparents or great uncles or cousins that totally were war heroes and high ranking political figures. Sewing could just be a Hateno thing, could it..?

“Can’t you just hire someone to teach you?” Launo started. “I mean, I’m super flattered! Just that, I’m not exactly a master at this, so I’m sure there are adults out there that are more accomplished.”

Arcadius hung his head. “I don’t think my dad would let me...Pretty much everything not sword related he just hires someone to do for me. And he’s super picky about what training I focus on.”

“Well it’s not really official training, it could just be a hobby.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, sounding out the word. “H...Hob...?”

“O-OK, just forget that. H-How about...” Launo didn’t meet his eyes as he absentmindedly kicked the dirt. “Y-You like poetry, right? You can come over to my house and look at my dad’s collection. And when we’re there, I can let my mom...” He scrunched his eyes, trying to nail down the words, “...apprentice you? On the...art, of sewing?”

Arcadius’ eyes were wide enough to reflect the heavens themselves. “R-Really?? You’d do that??”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be after call and,” Launo’s eyes suddenly sparked, “...You can just tell your dad that you’re training me! Say that you were asked to help your fellow classmates cause you’re already so far ahead from everyone else.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie, Launo thought, bitterly.

“Hmm...” Arcadius tapped his chin, before shrugging. “Might have to tweak the explanation to ‘getting extra credit for top grades by tutoring’ cause I don’t know how he’ll feel about me helping the competition.” He articulated the last word with a mocking, adulting tone. Then he held out a hand. “But I think it sounds like a deal! I’ll give you some pointers, and you introduce me to your mentor.”

“My mom.”

“Yeah, that.”

Launo shook his hand, still a bit timidly, given he now noticed that a few other boys in the training yard were watching the prodigy student interact with the glorified janitor boy.

So they both tutored each other: Larc, in the art of knowing what sewing magic was (Larc bringing the most expensive and ornate needle Launo had ever seen, even though Larc claimed he just found it in his father’s closet) and brewing delicious broths (“Wait, you have to stand around this pot for hours and cook this stuff?? I thought you just made soup in a bowl! You know, like how servants take off the silver cover on the tray and the soup is already there?” “We...dont have waiters or anything...so our method of cooking different.”) Meanwhile, Launo was able to make some progress with knight training—keyword, “some.”

“Don’t make your stance so wide.” Arcadius shoved Launo’s back foot with his boot. “Keep your feet closer together, you only want enough distance so that your front foot can hover an inch off the ground while your back foot stays planted. Any further, and you’ll topple too easily.”

Launo adjusted his stance as instructed, and readied the rapier again. He set his jaw. “OK. Come at me!”

Arcadius nodded. He picked up the wooden sword and swung (a bit slowly and wide) at Launo’s side.

Launo immediately shoved his rapier point left to counter his attack, but instead moved with such force and vigor that he practically fell onto Arcadius’ blade.

Arcadius chuckled, dropping the sword and helping Launo up again. “You don’t need to use to much force when you swing. In fact it’s better to work with simple quick movements with any rapier or piercing sword, since the damage is done by the tip, not the weight.”

“S-Sorry...” Launo mumbled as he got up again.

“Don’t be! Oh hey!” Arcadius suddenly went back around towards the pile of weapons and pulled out a claymore. “Actually, maybe a sword like this will work better for you! You won’t have to worry as much about holding back, or being finesse. All the power is in that downward swing—!” Arcadius swung the sword into a nearby log to demonstrate, nearly cutting it asunder.

He offered it to Launo. “And don’t let the size fool you, it’s not actually that heavy. Large weapons still need to let soldiers be quick enough to parry and block attacks.”

Launo turned the claymore around in his hands, studying the blade and handle.

Arcadius gestured to the log. “Well, go on! It’s similar to the grip I taught you with the broadsword, but this time you use your other hand in the bottom to support the weight as it turns on an axis. Try that downward swing I showed you!”

Launo paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he planted his foot down, and swung the claymore down with all his might, aiming for another soon-to-be piece of firewood.

The claymore whistled as it fell, and it cut into the log deep—about halfway. Yet, still not nearly as deep as how Arcadius had done it.

Nonetheless, he was hopping with joy for Launo. “That was awesome!! You did great!!”

He sighed as he left the claymore in the log. “No I didn’t...”

“What are you talking about? That was probably the best blow you’ve done all night!”

“Yeah! And it’s not even a quarter of the damage that you did with your swing!”

“Well, it still took me a while to—“

Launo gestured to the other log. “It’s been how many weeks?? And I’m not even CLOSE to being as good as you, much less being a top student...” He plopped into the dirt and laid himself out like a starfish.

Larc stood over him, confused. “Why would you want to be a top student?”

“BECAUSE I SUCK ASS, DUDE!” Launo held up his arms, exasperated. Larc, on instinct, stepped back and held his hands close to his chest as he fiddled with his thumbs and mumbled an apology. Launo immediately sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m mad at you. You’re really great, Link. You’re so nice to me and you’re talented and I’m so grateful, but I’m just...” He shifted in the dirt again. “I don’t think I could ever be like you. I’d even dare to say it’s impossible.”

Larc stilled, playing with his thumbs, before daring to step closer and sit in the dirt beside him.

“Can I tell you a secret, Launo?”

He was quiet, but he nodded a yes.

“I think my brother’s a stronger fighter than me.”

Launo furrowed his eyebrows confused, but he continued.

“He just never takes his knight training seriously, because of my father. But I bet if he really tried, he’d be great at it.”

Ah. So that’s what he meant.

“But I AM trying.” Launo whined. “I guess compared to you it doesn’t seem like much but—!”

“Nono! Sorry that’s not what I meant!” Larc quickly cut in. “I just...” He trailed off.

“...There’s a reason I have to be the best.” Larc finally said. He was looking out into the woods, but Launo felt that he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, maybe deep in thought. “There’s a reason I can’t settle, I can’t rest. It’s really important that I get this all right. And I guess that makes me admirable to most people but...”

He looked down at Launo, still spread out in the dirt. “I didn’t really choose to be a knight, unlike you. I didn’t actually choose to be the best, and I don’t get why so many people do train to be at the top out of their own violation. It really...sucks ass.” He articulated the last part in Launo’s tone, and they both giggled.

“So...I guess that I’m trying to say here is that...” He thought one his words a moment longer. “I think so many people are afraid of trying new things, because they fear not being the best at it, not being at the top. And I suppose ambition is good but...” He tilted his head and shrugged at Launo. “As someone who’s supposedly at the top, I would say I envy anybody that can make progress that their proud of. You choose to be a knight, and you’re training for it out of your own strength and courage. That’s more than I’ll ever have, so you should probably get off the ground and realize that soon.”

Launo’s eyes widened, a bit unnerved by how uncharacteristically blunt Larc was being.

“In my opinion, anyone that aims to be better than everyone is stupid—maybe that’s just me, but...I would think that if I was you, I’d be proud of any progress I made. If I was more skilled than I was yesterday, that’s really all I would care about. Why would I care about being the top of my class? I would kill to just be satisfied with being a better me.”

There was silence as the boys took in Larc’s words. Then he suddenly stood up. “G-Goddess Hylia, sorry I’ve been talking for so long, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” He went to collect his things. “You can keep the claymore, I think you’d be great at it, just...”

Larc packed his swords and backpack, before turning back to the flopped out Launo. “...I think you’re really cool, Launo. So don’t tap out for my sake—I’m not the person that matters in your training, am I? So don’t give up for any silly reasons like that.”

Launo perked his head up to meet his gaze. While Arcadius was usually serious and controlled during training at school, Larc always seemed to have genuine excitement about swords when it came to him. The bright smile on his face caused his cheeks to warm and he immediately flipped his head back to hide it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Launo!” Larc ran off into the night, a cobblestone streets in the distance swallowing his figure.

“See you...” Launo whispered.

He lay in the dirt a moment longer—his mother would probably berated him for the stains again—when he finally got up and looked at the claymore in the log. He walked up to it and observed it further, it was another a sixth of the way deep. He glanced at Larc’s log, which was nearly split in two, and sighed. Then he glanced back at his own work.

“Well, it’s better than when I first started I guess...” Launo mumbled.

No one responded.

The boy let out a huff, and gripped the sword again in his hands.

“But I can do better.”

By the time Launo was 16 he was finally beating his classmates with ease, specializing in longswords, axes, and hammers. And while he definitely still “sucked ass” in things like archery and lance work—to which some boys still teased him for—he found overtime that he no longer cared about what they thought. They had their strengths, and he had his. And to top it off, absolutely no one in the academy could make a lemon cookie like him. So at least he had the best in show for that angle.

Even years later, after certain incidents transpired concerning House Hartell, Launo always welcomed Larc to his house for “training.” Although after a while, it would be hard to still call it that when a large chunk of time is really just spent running their fingers through each other’s hair.

“But we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

And even years after graduating as part of the top ten in his class and working as a knight, some of his old classmates would tease him for being the “rich boy’s lap dog,” Launo would find that he still really didn’t care—after a punch or two was thrown, of course. He found that his new lack of anxiety and concern heavily stemmed from that night, when Larc had told him about his envy for choice and satisfaction. Thinking back at the memory of his handling with a sword and his happy little smile once made Launo blush so hard his father teased him about it for the rest of his life—his mother claimed he went so red he would fit right in with the tomato stew. One of these days, Launo would pay Larc back for the endless teasing he got from his parents. And pay Larc back he would, indeed.

I mean, he already had the ring.

[infernwetrust]

Easy To Fall [Xavier Plympton x Fem Reader] Pt 1.

PART 2

Summary: The one where you’ve just gotten out of a bad relationship and he’s just gotten out of a bad relationship. Fortunate enough he’s able to catch your eye one faithful night. What was suppose to be just a fling, turned out to be so much more.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drug use, drug use, fluff, emotional, pre-smut, let me know if I missed one!

WC: 3.7k

A/N: This came to me in the spur of the moment one night lol. Part 1 of a 2 part series! Hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading! -Juno

It was suppose to be nothing more than a short fling you told yourself. He was suppose to just be the rebound and then he became so much more. Xavier Plympton. How the two of you ended up meeting regularly for brunches and movie nights were astonishing to you. You learned quickly too that he was also recovering from a break up. He let it slip out on accident at one of the brunches. And you soon learned that maybe you were suppose to be his rebound too.

But he was so damn persistent. He never stopped calling and he always popped up randomly, as if he knew where you were at all times, but it's LA, certain faces stand out and his was one of them. After the first time you two had sex and he demanded that you go out to brunch with him, he had you hooked. He was a total sweetheart despite his playboy charm. Behind all the cockiness, the attitude, and the drugs, Xavier was the easiest person to talk to. You haven't felt that close to anyone in a while.

Today was the day that he finally convinced you to come to one of his aerobics classes and even meet some of his friends. You watched as he moved flawlessly throughout the room, swaying his hips. He was so fucking cute. He glanced over at you, watching as you stumbled over your own two feet, trying to keep up with everyone else. He chuckled as he leaned against the mirror, taking a sip from his water bottle.

"Keep going, everyone!" he shouted as he made his way over to you. "Struggling to keep up, Ms. Y/L/N?" You gave him a sarcastic chuckle before you stopped completely, needing to catch your breath.

"You're cute." you began. "But you're also a fucking asshole, you know that?"

"Awww, babe. You're so sweet. If you want me to help you just say that."

"I'm gonna choke you."

"That sounds fun, but come on, lemme show you." He took a confident stance next to you, running his hands through his sweaty hair. "Just follow my lead okay? Don't be afraid to tell me to slow down." He winked at you after that last sentence, causing you to blush. He started to move and you jumped in where you felt comfortable, following his every step, not missing a single cue.

"Remember to breathe while you're moving as well." he added. "A lot of people don't remember to take breaths when they exercise and it makes you tired faster." You nodded at his advice. "Think you can keep up now for the rest of this first half? I'm gonna go coach one of my buddies real quick."

"First half?!" you asked confused.

"Yeah we've only been in here for like 20 minutes."

"Feels like a fucking hour. Wow I'm so tired, X."

"You'll get use to it, should you keep joining me."

"We'll talk at the end of class blondie. Go help your buddy."

"Here. I'll give you a partner." He shouted half way across the room for a girl named Montana who came running over.

"Whats up , X?" she questioned, slightly bouncing her body to keep on rhythm with the still playing music.

"This is, Y/N. She's a first timer. Mind keeping up with her for me." Montana's eyes widened at the name and a grin came across her face. Xavier must have been talking to his friends about you. "Y/N, this is one of close friends, Montana."

"Yeah, sure. I got you."

"Don't scare her away please. You're usually good at doing that."

"Fuck off, Xavier." He chuckled before looking between the two of you, giving a reassuring nod before swaying off to help someone else.

"So." Montana said, starting to move next to you. "You're the Y/N, Xavier can't stop talking about. He must really like you."

"I mean, I would hope so. We've been talking for like 6 months."

"6 months and I'm just now meeting you? Oh yeah, he definitely likes you. He's usually quick to show us a new girl he's talking to. Steady in competition with our other two friends, Chet and Ray." That almost made you feel special and you tried to hide your smile. "They're never going to give him the end of it when they find out. They've been questioning him like crazy and he's been making up all sorts of excuses."

"I'm sure it's nothing. It's like a friends with benefits thing. X and I are both good where we are. He hasn't show any interest in taking it any further and I'm sure he's talking to other people."

"Why so sure?"

"X came off as a huge playboy when I met him." you shrugged, pausing a moment to reset yourself. "I watched as he danced with any pretty girl he came into contact with that night in the club. He tried it with me, but of course I put up a fight, but he was so fucking persistent. I basically caved in and leaped into his arms. We made out the rest of the night and I found myself back at his place and you know, in his bed."

"Mhmmm." Montana chimed in to let you know that she was listening.

"I slept over and then the next morning he demanded that we have brunch together and we talked for a really long time. He never stopped calling, never stopped popping up by my place and we've just been talking ever since. We have sex every now and then, but I feel it's more of a friendship with benefits than anything."

"I don't know, Y/N. I haven't seen any other girl around, not even when we go out. He's usually drunk and dancing in a group with the guys. And he's been like that for about... 4 months. Adds up to me, yeah?" It did add up and that scared you. You glanced over at Xavier who was laughing extra hard with another man, almost the same height as him, but a lot more buffer. He gave him a playful punch in the shoulder before the two resumed dancing throughout the room. You assumed that was one of his other friends. You bit down on your bottom lip, squeezing your eyes shut, replaying some of the memories you've shared with Xavier.

"You seriously just eat chocolate ice-cream?" Xavier asked, his face full of disgust as he watched you devour your ice-cream cone.

"Yeah." you simply responded, not seeing the issue. "It's fucking delicious."

"It's horrible. You could have any flavor you want and you choose nasty chocolate."

"I sure did. It does not get any better than chocolate ice-cream. What's so nasty about it, huh? Tell me."

"It just taste like cold."

"No, that's vanilla."

"You take that back right now."

"Or what? What are you gonna do?"

When you went to take a another lick of your cone, he smashed it again your face, chuckling as he did.

"I'm... gonna kill you. Yep. I'm gonna kill you."

"I'd like to see you-," . Without warning, you grabbed his cone, taking it, and tried to smash it against the side of his face, but he was fast. He caught your hand, taking his cone back and instead smashing it against your face.

"Run." you said, jaw clenched.

"Or what."

"Run."

***

"Say it louder." Xavier moaned in your ear as he thrusted in and out of you. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you sunk your teeth into his shoulder, barely hanging on to life as he made you feel so good. It didn't help that the two of you got out of the ass high before this started, your bodies basically floating. "Let the whole neighborhood hear you, baby."

"Mmm, fuck me daddy." you whimpered.

"Louder." he said, speeding up the pace. You repeated yourself, twice as loud, your nails now digging deep into his back, so deep that it drew a little blood.

"That's a good girl. God you're so fucking pretty." He leaned in for what was suppose to be a sloppy kiss, but what was instead a passionate one and the both of you held each other close, your hands running gently through his blonde hair.

***

"Are you sure this is something that you want to try, Y/N?" he asked as the two of you sat across from each other in the sand, a small fire lit, joint in his mouth. "Just because I'm doing it, doesn't mean you have to." He firmly gripped the bottle of molly that he had in his hand.

"I want to." you said, placing a hand on his thigh. "I want to go on an adventure with you. And what's the worse that can happen? We both die? At least we're here together right?"

"Die?!"

"I said the worse, Xavier."

"I know, I'm just messing. I know my sources." He passed you a pill and the both of you took them together. 45 minutes later you felt like you left the planet. You and Xavier ran around the beach, chasing in each other in almost absolute darkness, unless one of you ran by the small fire he created.

When he finally caught you, and he did with those long legs, he tackled you into the sand, laying on top of you, planting soft kisses on your face, lips, and neck. You pulled him in for yet another one of your heated kisses which soon turned into a night of pure bliss on the beach.

Overwhelmed by your thoughts, you stopped dancing abruptly, running out of the class and into the hallway. Xavier noticed almost immediately and gave a confused look with his hands up in the air at Montana as he ran out after you. She simply shrugged, not really knowing why you ran out either. You fell to the ground, knees first as you started to cry, unsure of what was going on and unsure of why you were feeling this way.

"Y/N?!" Xavier semi-shouted and he got down on the ground next to you. "What's wrong, babe? What did she say to you?! I knew I should of gave you Brooke as a partner instead."

"She didn't do anything." you answered between sobs. "I just... I just need a minute. Please.." He continued to look at you with worried eyes, placing his hand firmly on your shoulder, gently rubbing it with his thumb. "Please. I'm fine, I promise. I'll be back in there in a minute." He didn't leave before pressing his lips against your temple, giving you a kiss.

You took a few minutes to recollect yourself. Truth is, you had long fallen for Xavier 3 months into your 6 month talking stage, but you had felt like it was too soon. He was fresh out of a relationship and so were you, but he was so damaged. Even though you didn't have to, you put up with his change in mood every so often and his random bouts of wanting to still be in your presence, but in absolute silence.

You finished out class strong, Montana still your partner, fighting back your tears every time you made eye contact with Xavier. He would give you a small smile and you'd give him one return. Montana had awoken the flame you let lay dormant for 3 months too long, but you weren't sure if he felt the same way, regardless if Montana thought so. After class, you stayed behind with her, her introducing you to Brooke and pointing out the other two boys in the friend group who were pulling Xavier to the side to talk and you couldn't help but eavesdrop, tuning back into the conversation you were having with Brooke and Montana.

"So when is single Xavier coming out to play?" Chet asked. "He's been ignoring us for 6 months."

"Single Xavier never left the building." Xavier said, grinning. "He's just calm now."

"Bullshit." Ray said. "For like a solid month you went crazy. I've never seen you do so many drugs and fuck so many girls in the course of a month."

"So you want single Xavier, so that I can go on a another drug binge? I'm trying to heal guys, come on."

"Noooo. We want single Xavier to come and have fun with us tonight at the bar."

"Yeah." Chet chimed in. "That sounds more correct. You're a little bit too aggressive intoxicated on drugs anyways. But tell us, dude. Is that her?" Your breath hitched in your throat, knowing that all of their eyes were burning into your back. "And if it is, how come we've never heard about her?"

"I'm taking things slow with her, okay? And when I introduce you guys you have to promise me that you won't be so... so much, yeah?"

"Jesus Christ, he's pussy whipped."

"Here we fucking go." Xavier said, furrowing his eyebrows and running his hands across his face.

"Me? Aggressive?" Chet asked, playfully sizing Xavier up.

"Especially you, Chet."

"Yeah, well, fuck you. Still come to the bar with us, come on man, when's the last time it's just been us dudes?"

"I already made plans with Y/N for after here."

"What happened to bros before-," Ray began to question.

"Don't fucking go there, Ray. Look, tomorrow night fellas. I promise."

"You make too many promises, Plympton, but go ahead. Introduce us to your secret lover."

"She is not my-,"

"I ain't even trying to hear it." Ray said, taking his toothpick out of his mouth. "Lover boy. You always were a softy, X."

"I can fuck with and talk to whoever I want. Got it? I can call it quits whenever I want. Who says I'm not trying to prepare myself to find better? I don't care if we've been talking 6 months versus 2 years. I call the shots. If I wanna forget about her, I can forget about her, no problem."

"There's the beast. Chet said, grabbing Xavier by his shoulders and giving him a good shake.

"Still not going to the bar, though. I made plans and you know I'm a man that sticks to the plan." You could hear the other two guys sigh in frustration, but you were too wrapped up in your own sadness and frustration to even begin to want to say something. "You guys seemed a bit too riled up right now. I'll introduce you another time. It's getting late and I got to close up anyways."

"So you'll come with us?" Brooke asked, pulling you from listening to the boys conversation.

"I would." you said, honestly not even hearing what she asked. "But Xavier and I are suppose to be hanging out."

"Ooo." Montana said, raising her eyebrow.

"It's not special. Friday's are always reserved for movie night since we've started talking. He usually falls asleep half way through." Just before the girls could say anything, he made his way over to you.

"Ready to go?" he asked, giving you a warm smile before darting his eyes back and forth between Brooke and Montana.

"Yeah.." you answered, barely above a whisper, trying not to show your emotions about what he said. You weren't even suppose to be listening anyways, but all of that went straight out of the window the moment you two sat down in his VantaC.

"So what movie are we-," he began to ask, but you cut him off.

"I'm not just something you can throw away." you said flatly. He looked at you confused, scratching the back of his head.

"What?" he questioned. "Y/N, what are you talking about? No one is gonna throw you away?"

"You can talk to and fuck whoever, right? You can call it quits. You can find better." you repeated his words, your voice about to crack, but you stayed strong. "You don't care how long we've been talking because you can just forget about me right? Xavier, I thought we cared about each other?"

"You were listening to my conversation?"

"Of course that's the only thing you heard. You weren't exactly being quiet." He sighed, leaning back in his seat, rubbing his hands together.

"You really think I meant that? I mean, like seriously?"

"I don't know. You sounded pretty serious."

"Why do you always do this to me? We have a long good streak and then bam. It's always something."

"Because I put a lot on hold for you, Xavier."

"I didn't ask you to do that. I didn't ask you to change anything about your life for me. That was a choice you made."

"Yeah well maybe I shouldn't have made it..." you mumbled.

"Speak up." he said, hearing what you said.

"I didn't say anything, let's just go."

"You know, Y/N. My life has just been full of you. You you you you. No one else."

"Stop talking to me and drive."

"No I'm not gonna stop fucking talking to you and drive. We talk to each other, you know that. I'm tired of you trying to shut me up or shut me down every time we get into one of these stupid little arguments. You just have to always be right, yeah?"

"I'm gonna tune you out now." you said, going to turn up his radio, but he grabbed your wrist. "You better-,"

"Or what? Huh?" The anger Xavier let lay dormant for so long was filing starting to come back. Of course it wasn't towards you. It was his own personal hell cup that was filling over and you just happen to be at the end of it.

"Xavier please..." you whined. "You're hurting me." He softened up once he heard the desperation in your voice. Your wrist was red when he finally let go of you.

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled. "Fuck.. I'm sorry."

"Let's just go please. Take me home."

"Y/N. I didn't mean any of what I said to Ray or to Chet."

"Then why'd you say it? What do you have to prove to them?"

"I was afraid."

"Afraid of what, Xavier?" He fell silent, not really sure of how to give you an answer. He was so so so damaged when you found him. And now all those memories came flooding back to him as he gripped the steering wheel hard in front of him.

"Afraid to lose control again, Y/N. I just got back control of my life. I don't want to go back to weak and depressive, Xavier."

"So you bring about asshole Xavier instead?"

"It was my only way of not appearing weak in front of my boys."

"You don't have to do anything for anyone, but yourself. We've talked about this so many times. You do not need to change for anyone, but you. You don't need to appear strong. It's okay to show emotions. It's okay to care about someone other than yourself. It's okay to have a soft side. It's okay to say no." you said. "But you know what's not okay? Hurting someone else in the process of building yourself back up."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you. I-, I-, I have feelings for you, okay? Happy? 3 months ago I learned that I had feelings for you, but I didn't know if you felt the same. I still don't know if you feel the same, so I said what I said to them to make myself feel better. I promise that I didn't mean it. I wouldn't ever throw you away. I don't want to talk to anyone else. I don't want to sleep with anyone else. I don't want to see anyone else. These past 6 months it's just been you, I swear." You fell silent, memories that you had with Xavier playing over in your head again and again and again.

"Y/N?" he called out when you didn't give him an answer. "Y/N please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry if what I said hurt you and I understand if you don't want to talk anymore after this, but please don't walk away hating me. I can't lose you. I can't lose anyone right now. Not again."

Why did he take so long to tell you? Why did you take so long to tell him? You were silent for most of the ride home, Xavier giving you the occasional side glance to make sure that you were still okay, but deep down inside he was a nervous wreck. He was afraid that he just ruined it all by confessing his feelings for you. He was growing to hate himself all over again the longer the two of you sat there in silence. When he pulled into your driveway, you allowed for him to walk you to your door as usual.

"Y/N." he said softly as you put your key in the door, opening it. "Please..."

As soon as you stepped foot in your home, you wasted no time pulling him in with you by his jacket, smashing his lips against yours in a kiss he couldn't wait to return. Naturally, as if were meant to be, which at this point the both of you knew it was, he lifted you off the ground, cupping your ass in his hands as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Too wrapped up in each other, you're pretty sure that a few things were broken on the way to the bedroom, but you didn't care. Those things were replaceable. He put you down, but only long enough for the clothes to come off, him immediately picking you back up.

He sat down in the edge of the bed, your legs still wrapped around his waist, resuming the kiss. He laid down and your hands found their way wrapped up his blonde hair as soft moans left the both of you. There were countless times you two had sex of course, but this felt different for the both of you.

"We should do this in the shower." you said, breathless against the side of his face, gently biting on his ear. "Easy clean up, don't you agree?"

"Y/N..." he said, just as much out of breath.

"Hmmm?"

"You make me so fucking happy."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid

[manyblinkinglights]

MY PERSONAL TAKE ON UNITY-”HUMANOID” FERAL AVATAR RIGGING FOR VRCHAT

First of all: this is actually not that bad. If you avoid the many pitfalls I will lay out for you in this tutorial, the worst thing about the hookup process is the same thing that’s bad about everything in Unity: dragging the little thingies into their little boxies gets kind of tedious. 

NUMBERED LIST: 

1. Start with Rigify’s meta-human. 

2. Modify it by deleting extra bones, and

3. altering the hips and legs and shoulders for compatibility with VRChat’s full-body IK, as per Kung’s YouTube tutorial. 

4. Build your quad model around the head, neck, chest, spine, and hips of your Humanoid. 

5. Lock your Humanoid legs and arms out of weight painting.

6. Rig your quad model, and

7. Get it into Unity. 

8. Start putting rotation constraints on all/most of your quad model’s bones (I’ll tell you TWO BIG SECRETS). edit: I forget what two things were supposed to be the secrets. Pick whichever two things helped you most and let’s just call those the secrets. 

9. Build and test your avatar, then start tweaking your constraint weights until you get the effect you want!

**

ADVICE: 

part A: You can test an activated quad leg rotation constraint directly in your scene by applying it, and then grabbing your humanoid thigh or shin transform and rotating that, but YOU HAVE TO CTRL-Z IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS. NEVER apply a rotation constraint to a bone that’s been left out of its default position!

part B: Always, always, ALWAYS and only, only ONLY work on your Armature in Blender from full X, Y, or Z isometric view with X-mirroring on.  

KNOWN LIMITATIONS: 

The levelling bone in your backbone always points directly back, relative to root, from the user’s hips; they twist up and leave it behind if they turn from side to side too far, all the way around, or, god forbid, hit VRCEmote 6 (backflip). You cannot sexy poledance or flop onto the couch in this style of avatar without making a spectacle of yourself. 

If there’s some crazy calculus that’d spit out the exact right leg lengths and constraint weights to perfectly eliminate foot-vs-floor clipping at every height, I do not know it. There are just too many variables at play; put whatever leg lengths onto your quad that it requires, and then try to come up with rough, biomechanically-inspired values for your constraint weights such that your quad feet wind up near the same elevation as your Humanoid core’s feet when you enter the Humanoid sit position. If you do this your end result will be PRETTY DARN GOOD at standing and bending/dancing heights, but it WILL get squirrelly as you approach crouch. That’s just the way it is; in fact I recommend replacing the prone and crouch animation blendtrees with the standing ones. While this tutorial will generate an avatar that crouches and crawls around prone okay/amusingly, you do get sent into the floor in crouch/prone and there simply isn’t anything to be done about it. 

There is also NO WAY to migrate rotation constraints from one avatar to another. You can copy a fully-constrained avatar and hot-swap in your own edited mesh, but you (basically) CAN’T EDIT bones in an already-constrained armature without turning it all into spaghetti. 

**

ONE.

You need a working, full-body-tracking compatible biped skeleton to start with. But... there aren’t any out there (that I’m aware of) to start with, so I recommend scaling up a meta-human out of the Rigify add-on for Blender... here’s a guy walking you through that bit of it: https://youtu.be/DS885Sk1gSs?t=30 (we will not be making an “animation rig,” we are just getting a human-shaped Armature into the project with almost all of its bones named correctly already. So just do that part.)

TWO.

...and then deleting the face stuff, some other stuff, and the extra four non-finger hand bones out of each hand (make sure not to accidentally nuke part of your thumb, like me, because you might not notice until way later that you’ve given yourself a stumpy single-jointed thumb). You want to go from this:

To this:

I mean, I guess you could leave them, but too many useless bones will come back to bite you later if Unity decides it can’t figure your shit out and makes you drag every. single. handbone. into. the L and R hand slots yourself. Set yourself up for success and don’t skip this deletion step. Also, now’s the time to rename your hips -> spine -> chest -> neck -> head chain, since Rigify has them all as like spine01 spine02 etc.

Your penultimate guy:

THREE.

Now modify its thighs and hips as per Kung’s tutorial: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2sfTEBAl8sA

Basically, for this armature in particular you need the tops of the thigh bones to be below the entire hip bone, as follows: 

AND you need the hip bone to be above the thigh bones (Rigify’s is too far back). Personally, I got good results from just grabbing my legs and scooting them backward. 

If you DON’T do this, PC people and three-point tracking people will still be able to use your avatar fine. But full-body people’s hips will jut forward in a super fucked up way. IF YOU FOLLOW THIS TUTORIAL EXACTLY and include a BEND bone, this will be a problem. IF YOU CUT CORNERS and disregard the BEND bone (and/or you choose to lock the hips out of weight painting--valid), you can skip this step. But you seriously might as well do it. 

IMPORTANT! The lengths and angles of your bones here determine, in part, the later behavior & vivacity of your finished model. I like this modified Rigify base because VRChat’s IK makes it nice and lively. If you use a different Humanoid base, like a ramrod straight turbocompatible one, or a cool but non-fullbody-compatible style one (hey, go for it! PC and three-point tracking people have rights too!) the flavor of your animations later on will be different! 

FOUR. Build your model around the head, neck, chest, spine, and hips of your inner Humanoid! Don’t hold me liable for anything that happens to you if you change the armature proportions, but based on this one time I helped a kid hook up their quad horse, you can get acceptable/interesting non-full-body-compatible behavior if you do change them (to perfectly follow your cool dragon neck or whatever). I will continue on as if you did not change them! Anyway, do your thing. If you’ve got someone else’s mesh for this step, do your best to pose it in a neutrally upright standing position, and then put the Humanoid in it like they’re the front half of a horse costume, scaling the whole rig up and down as necessary. Again, ANY CHANGES YOU MAKE TO THE PROPORTIONS OF THE HUMANOID RIG WILL CHANGE YOUR ANIMATIONS LATER, and break full-body compatibility if you go too far!  Here’s mine, see the little guy in there? Try to pick him out from the rest of the rigging:

Your head needs to be placed so it does a good job aiming its head/so you can set the view orb so you more or less see out its eyes, and your neck, chest, spine, and hips should be in its neck and forequarters, but your legs and feet DON’T have to match up with your quad forelegs or forefeet! Your quad feet can be anywhere relative to your Humanoid ones so long as your quad is in its symmetrical, neutral standing posture. 

You can see that mine are a bit in front. It’s fine.

FIVE. Parent the mesh to the armature (or uhhh is it the other way around? Whichever way around it is, do it) with empty groups. Go into your Vertex Groups panel and lock out the limbs--that’s shoulders, upper arms, forearms, hands and fingers, thighs, lower legs, feet, and toes. You want them zero and kept at zero (unless your want your arms for a taur). 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rG82fogtuCg WATCH THE ABOVE VIDEO IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY. :V You can run the auto weight paint from here and/or start dinking around with weight painting your quad’s neck however is most comfortable for you if you want, but you still need to

SIX.  rig your quad model! Okay, here’s the one big rule for your grounded legs (wings and funky lil extra limbs that just wave around can do whatever): 

you must leave your Rigify legs straight up and down, no angling outwards, and YOUR QUAD LIMBS MUST BE STRAIGHT UP AND DOWN, NO ANGLING OUTWARDS.  

See mine: 

You don’t have to have them all perfectly in line from the front like I do, you could have your legs be set at any widths (say, wider stance in the armature hind legs than in the Humanoid ones, if your quad has wider hips), but they HAVE to all be exactly straight up and down, just like the Humanoid legs are. I tried matching my actual gryphon limb angles like in normal rigging once, and it resulted in incorrect foot placement/limb angles when standing neutrally (because VRChat’s neutral stance is not a perfect T- or A-pose). It’s fine if they’re different heights, though--here’s a side picture where you can see that my hind legs are lots taller, and my forelegs a little taller, than those of my Humanoid core:

Okay so maybe this belongs up there under FIVE. but, since you CANNOT add any jaunty character to your quad by adding naturalistic/sideways angling in its armature, the mesh, instead, must deviate from the armature to give you the illusion of a jaunty stance, and I DO recommend doing (just a little of) this. Your bones don’t HAVE to be in the center of your mesh volumes to still work okay, especially when they’re only serving as relatively-restricted legs (knees don’t twist, and neither do a bunch of quad bones driven by them). So, feel free to “pose” your quad legs in an interesting way around their upright bones, especially when it comes to giving your hind legs a different character from your front ones. Otherwise it’ll be way more obvious they’re rigidly linked, despite their different proportions. I recommend angling the apparent set of your hind legs out just a little, so your hind feet seem to be set wider than your front ones.

Not only does this help give each set of your legs its own character, to help with the illusion that they’re actuating totally differently, and that these are definitely your own original character do not steal’s full custom animations and not VRChat’s default ones--but your back legs are going to be operating the reverse of your front legs. This means that when the wearer adopts a wide stance, with their feet well apart from each other (as in many dances), YOUR BACK LEGS WILL CROSS. The amount of space I left between my gryphons’ hind legs, above, accommodates the normal amount of moving around that people do pretty well, but be advised that making a beautiful character with its hind legs neatly, narrowly posed might hit you with some heartbreak later! (You could get around this by instead rigging your quad to have its forelegs be the reversed ones, but this might be a little disconcerting for a fullbody wearer; or you could give yourself a “pacing” gait, where both your front and back left legs step forward at once, but this is a glaringly visible design choice for the kinds of people who notice these things. If you do this, make it a choice, not what-you-did-because-it-turned-out-you-had-no-choice.) 

(I did a bunch of bogus shit to make it so I could switch between regular locomotion and a pacing gait, but that’s outside the scope of this tutorial.)

Now, your BOB, LEVEL, and BEND bones!

BOB: Somewhere on your armature, put an unparented bone (any size) along your midline called BOB. (I put mine below my hips and called it dingle.dangle.) Ever ported a model in and left something unparented accidentally? Remember how it disconcertingly gets “left behind”? Well, we’re using that phenomenon to our advantage! BOB will be our rotation reference bone for LEVEL and BEND. 

LEVEL: So, LEVEL. Your quad’s back/torso should be/have one big bone coming out of the back of your Humanoid hips, call it LEVEL. It should be the parent for all your quad’s limbs, except for anything you have coming out of the head or neck (idk, whiskers, chinwings, whatever).

BEND: BEND is optional, but recommended; a bone that also sticks out the back of your hips, and stretches out more or less to the end of your ribcage, maybe to the middle-ish of your ribcage. Mine is parallel to the floor but that doesn’t matter much, and weighted at around strength .4 to the ribcage behind my shoulders, a little bit of the back of my shoulders where they meet my body, and tapering off towards my waist. Basically when you wiggle this bone up and down, it should arch and bow your back a little bit, over the top of your other weight paints, in whatever way is visually acceptable to you. Mine does this:

SEVEN.

Now, into Unity. Navigating Unity is mostly beyond the scope of this tutorial, but if you can add a VRC Avatar Descriptor, you can add a rotation constraint. It works the same, you just go find the bone (”transform”) in the hierarchy that you want and add a rotation constraint component to it. 

So, get your .fbx out of Blender and into your Assets folder or whatever. Click on it and go to Import Settings, set it as Humanoid, apply, configure. Pick out and add all the bones of your Humanoid armature to the Humanoid panel (if it hasn’t autopopulated--it might!), reset your pose and then enforce T-pose if necessary, delete the reference to Jaw, put Chest in and make sure there’s no Upper Chest, etc., all the usual things. You should see a little green T-posing person in the forequarters of your quad! Hit Done and you’re done. (Look up ordinary VRChat avatar 3.0 import tutorials if you’re having trouble with this step; you’re Humanoid at this point already, same as anybody). Now drag your newly-confirmed-for-Humanoid .fbx into your scene. Open up its hierarchy and look for the LEVEL bone; it should be under hips. Put a rotation constraint on this bone (click on it, Add Component button, search “rotation” or “constraint,” pick Rotation Constraint). Click the little plus to add a target, and drag BOB in there from the hierarchy. Leave the strength 1 above and 1 below (the 1 below will always be left alone at 1 unless specified otherwise), and click Activate. There! You did it! Now your whole entire ass won’t wave around!! You can hop right in and Test Avatar if you want--your head and neck will be the only things that move while your legs will all be stiff like a piñata, but by god, your back will be staying level. Try crouching and going prone!

Enjoy this first, sweet taste of quad success if you’ve gotten this far, because there are many, many ways to screw the rest of this process up, and even with me guiding you, you might find some brand new ones. Applying a rotation constraint correctly is as easy as above, but here are some pitfalls: if you move any bones in Unity with active constraints on them, or bones upstream of an active constraint, they get fucked up. If you activate a constraint on a bone that’s been moved, moving the bone back afterwards will fuck the constraint up. LEAVE YOUR MODEL IN ITS DEFAULT POSE AT ALL TIMES, UNLESS YOU’VE MADE SURE TO SWITCH TO GAME MODE. (Sometimes you get lucky and you can rescue a ruined bone by deactivating its constraint and then going to Modified Component -> Revert on the transform itself. But don’t count on it.)

If you change any values within a constraint while it is active, it gets fucked up. Uncheck “Is Active” before modifying any constraint!

But wait, there’s more! If you hot-swap your model (minimize Unity, open Blender, do edits, export your new .fbx, delete your old .fbx in the save dialog and replace it with your new .fbx, WAIT A FEW SECONDS because opening Unity in the middle of the hotswap borks everything, maximize Unity, it thinks for a second, then accepts your new model while hey presto preserving your rotation constraints), AFTER ARMATURE EDITS, so, again, if yo-- if you--*about to sneeze voice*--

If you hot-swap your model after armature edits, the whole thing can get fucked up and you might have to re-apply all your rotation constraints again. 

hhhhh that’s better. Now, you MAY hot-swap your model after wholesale bone additions and deletions, but rotation-constrained armatures lose their tiny minds if you change constrained bone lengths, positions, or angles!

Moving on! You just did LEVEL, now let’s do BEND.

BEND is constrained at .5 strength to BOB. Add a rotation constraint to BEND, set the strength to .5, hit the plus, drag in BOB. (Dial your reflexes in on this sequence because you are going to be doing it a lot.) The purpose of BEND is to bring a little life to your otherwise ramrod-stiff quad spine; you can experiment with strengths (of weight paint, of constraint weight, of bone length) but I recommend you try copying me to start. So that’s: BEND, a bone sticking out to about the end of your ribcage, weight painted at .4 or so to your ribcage and gradienting smoothly away, constrained to your unparented bone BOB at .5 strength (waving around without any constraint put too much wiggle in my gryphon). 

BOB, LEVEL, and BEND are the major engines behind my quad rigging giving an acceptable effect! You don’t need to throw $90 at Final IK if you’ve got some time on your hands and BOB, LEVEL, and BEND. :)

Now for ALL THE REST OF YOUR LIMBS!

A note before we begin. Unity rotation constraints can’t ever go past 1:1, that is, there is no way to “amplify” a motion to make it a bigger one. You can only approach parity with the reference motion, never exceed it. The clearest example I can think of is a tail. My tail is six bones, and I thought I could constrain each one to the head at .1 and they’d “stack” and make it so a small motion of my head would put an attractive curl in my tail. Lol, nope. The first one rotated the tail .1, the ones that followed each inherited that .1 rotation from their parent and had their constraints satisfied, and did nothing, and I had a tail that barely moved at all. (Blender’s bone constraints work differently and allow this kind of amplification; you can also test things out in there, but I could never figure out which settings would give me Unity-like behavior.) So, with that in mind, bring up a gait cycle of your target animal. If a video is too confusing, look for some static images (like an animator’s gait cycle) that show the gait. Try to see which bones rotate the most, and which rotate noticeably less. Use this to inform your constraint weight values later. If you picked a static image, you can even measure the rotations throughout the cycle to see which move most and least! I don’t know enough to use exactly specific language here, so, to the extreme literalists in my audience.... sorry about what I just said. If you find your ability to magically pick up on what I mean is poor, I’ll just give you my gryphon numbers later! Or you could just try some stuff, like having every bone at max strength & seeing what happens, and then picking just one to turn down to .5 strength and testing again. That should clarify the concept for you quickly.

Alternatively, the quick-and-dirty “I’m NOT HERE to acquire any sensitivities I don’t ALREADY HAVE” test is to just try to get your quad feet as close as possible to your biped feet’s level/height when the biped thigh is picked up to 90 degrees and the shin hangs straight down (the “sit position”).  Here’s how mine do:

Now, that’s half of the challenge, noticing which bones in the legs ought to be more or less responsive, and then roughing out an idea of the relative weights/responsivities each leg bone needs to make that happen, deciding which bones are liveliest and should be set at or near 1 and which are stiffest, or least active, and should go around .5 (you might even dip to .3). But (you might scream) what are you weighting these guys RELATIVE to? What are their TARGETS? Well!

...I’m not going to try to explain this. I’ve confused everybody every time I’ve tried. :p Just start with the shoulder constrained to the thigh, then the next bone down to the shin, then the NEXT bone down to the thigh again, then the shin again, and so on (thigh shin thigh shin thigh shin). This will get you 98% of the way there because most of the bones in a tetrapod leg-chain operate in simple opposition to each other. Basically, by rotating the shoulder like the thigh, when you raise your leg, your quad will start to raise its shoulder. By having the next bone rotate like your shin, and then continuing the pattern after, contracting your knee will make your quad contract its whole leg. This breaks down a little at the paw-and-toes, or the distal complexities of the horse, but just start with this pattern by rote. Then test it, and if one of the bones is obviously backwards, swap its target to the other one and test it again.

Last concept: if you have two bones in a row weighted to the same thing (like where you’ve got two bones that do not work in opposition to each other), the second one needs to have a bigger weight to the target than its parent. Because it inherits the parent’s rotation, and then only adds whatever amount that’s bigger. So, for my forepaw, I have it at .5 to the shin, and then the toes are at 1 to the shin. The whole paw acts as a shin-unit, but weighting the hand less than the toes allows the toes a little of their own flair. :v

(Okay that was a third-grade-biology-textbook lie. I actually have my upper paw .5 to the shin and my toes/beans at 1 to the foot. I might have a little bit of weight to the foot in the upper hand/palm part of my eagle foreclaws too. But I don’t recommend you add any weighting to the foot until you’ve got a good baseline result with just weights to the thigh and shin!!!!! The foot does things that you might find confusing and upsetting and which can introduce a LOT of incorrect limb placement/clipping, especially the further up the chain you allow it to interfere; it should be used sparingly or (as in my hind legs) not at all.)

Finally, the more your bone lengths and angles resemble your target animal’s (use a skeletal reference!), and the better you are at deciding which bones should respond a lot (and be weighted with high values) and which should respond less (and be weighted with lower ones), the more visual interest and species-specific character your quad avatar will have! You can see my gryphon’s rig above; here are its constraint values (where I go LR to LR, the left bits of the Humanoid control the left bits of the quad; where I go LR to RL, the left bits of the Humanoid control the right bits of the quad):

Back: LEVEL: 1 to BOB BEND: .5 to BOB Wings: upper_arm.LR.001: .5 to upper_arm.LR forearm.LR.001: .5 to (forearm.LR .5, hand.LR .5) hand.LR.001: .5 to hand.LR Hindlegs (targeted to the OPPOSITE side human legs): thigh.LR.002: .7 to thigh.RL shin.LR.002: .6 to shin.RL foot.LR.002: .9 to thigh.RL toe.LR.002: .7 to shin.LR Forelegs - EAGLE: thigh.LR.001: .7 to thigh.LR shin.LR.001: .8 to shin.LR foot.LR.001: 1 to thigh.LR toe.LR.001: .5 to (shin.LR 1, foot.LR 1) toe.LR.003,5,6: 1 to shin.LR toe.LR.004: 1 to thigh.LR Forelegs - LION: thigh.LR.001: 1 to thigh.LR shin.LR.001: .5 to shin.LR foot.LR.001: 1 to thigh.LR toe.LR.001: .5 to shin.LR toe.LR.005: 1 to foot.LR Tail: tail.001: .5 .5 to head tail.002: .6 .6 to head, etc. ***

REITERATION OF IMPORTANT PROTIP: Again, the quick and dirty test of your targets and values is to switch to Game mode and hike your Humanoid’s leg up so the thigh is parallel to the floor and the shin’s straight down (the sit position). Does your quad also hike its leg up, so its foot is in the neighborhood of your Humanoid’s foot level? Are all of your bones bending the right way? (Any that aren’t need their target switched to the other kind of leg bone.) If your quad is more or less “also contracting its leg so now it’s up,” then you’re either finished, or really really close!! If your quad daintily raises up its lil’ ol’ leggy for you, test your gait in-game and decide whether it has the right “feel”. If one of the bones is too stiff or too crazy relative to your reference animal’s style of motion, change its value so it behaves better, and hang the sitpose test. People mostly spend time standing, anyway, and your quad will likely look great standing and moving around even if it doesn’t do well at the sit test. 

[k-writesthings]

Sparring (Levi x Reader)

Warnings: SFW-ish (Implied sex scene and mentions of the Devil’s Tango), cussing

Word Count: 2600 (What a satisfying number...)  

      “Jean, keep your arms up! Be ready to fight back. Eren, go for it!” I shouted over the grunts and cursing filling the training grounds. It was the tail end of our group sparring session. The sun glowed orange, hanging low in the sky. Small whispers of wind brushed across my shoulders, and a certain smell of grass and honeysuckle floated in the air. It was a gorgeous evening, and the perfect start to our monthly weekend off. All we had to do was finish this session, and then Levi and I would be free to have our alone time.

   I longed for that rare time I had Levi all to myself. Usually, he was all work, all the time. He’d even work straight through his days off if I wasn’t there to remind him to relax. But I could see his demeanor change when he knew he could save his work for another time. He was more care-free, more spontaneously romantic, and even playful sometimes. Just imagining his adorable little smile, the kind he’d only show me, made my cheeks flush and my heart start to beat faster. I’d get that and more in just a couple hours. 

   I just had to finish this session.

   “Ow! Jean! No head shots, I don’t need a concussion right now!” Eren yelled, dodging a close swing at his head from Jean, who scoffed at his complaint.

   “Oh come on, Eren! You heal from worse in a matter of hours. How about you stop being a baby and come at me, shortie!” Jean taunted back, throwing his arms wide to further antagonize the hot-headed Titan-Shifter he was fighting. We hardly ever let these two fight. They were always overly aggressive and deviated from the exercise, often throwing dirt into each other’s eyes or making an unfair pass at the other’s crotch. Usually when it got that bad, Levi stepped in. Sometimes I even got involved, especially when Eren was far too angry. Jean didn’t heal like a Titan-Shifter, so those were the times we had to get him out of there. 

   Fortunately, neither had thrown any dirty blows, yet. But that didn’t stop Levi.

   “Oi! Enough! Don’t make me come in there and kick your asses again.” He barked, prowling out of the barn where he was checking on the horses and coming to stand next to me. I smiled softly as I took in his perfect side profile. Levi looked especially handsome in the warm golden light, his inky black hair hanging in his eyes. But no matter how much I wanted to kiss him, he was very firm on his rules on public affection, especially while he was on “duty”. So I settled for reaching out and interlacing my pinky with his. He didn’t smile, but he did glance at me with a softened gaze. And that was enough for me.

   Eren and Jean were still bickering as they finished their sparring, thankfully without any foul play. As they left the field, relief washed over my body. Finally, I could be alone with my lover. Levi fully grasped my hand, ready to yank me away. But before he could, a voice stopped us.

   “Hey Captain! Corporal!” We both turned towards the voice. Connie was running towards us. He came to a skidding halt before us, smiled goofily and said, “You two should spar!” 

   A grin split across my face. As much as I wanted to get Levi alone, sparring could be fun. We haven’t done something like that since before the 104th joined the Scouts, and I wanted to see if I had even a sliver of a chance against him.

   “No.” Levi told him firmly, trying to tug me away again. 

   “C’mon! We’ve never seen either of you spar before.” Connie insisted.

   “You’ve seen us both take out Titans before. Sparring is much less exciting, trust me.” Levi was beginning to get annoyed, I could see it in his eyes.

   “Levi,” I said as he turned to face me with that steely gaze of his. “It could be fun. It’s nothing serious.”

   “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

   “Hurt me? I’d like to see you try.” I challenged, punching him in the shoulder and shedding my long forest green military overcoat. Levi did the same and followed me to the sparring grounds. 

   The dispersing Scouts had gathered around again, pressing against the fence in preparation for the highly anticipated fight. I wasn’t entirely sure why this was such a big deal when we had fought Titans by the dozens, like Levi said, but I was willing to play along. We so rarely had dumb fun, it seemed like a great way to blow off some steam. And, it was a good excuse for Levi to touch me in public. 

   Levi stood in front of me, cravat gone, and got into his stance. “Ready?”

   I copied him, smiling slightly. “Bring it on, Captain.”

   Levi simply rolled his eyes and advanced on me, throwing a punch at my right shoulder, which I easily blocked. While his arm was extended from the punch, I used my angle to bring my left leg to land a kick to his side. He was caught off guard for a split second as the blow knocked him back, but quickly recovered. I caught his eyes as he squared up for another attack. They were sharp, dangerous even. His grey irises caught the light of the setting sun, causing them to flash threateningly. He paced slightly as he studied me. I felt like prey being stalked by a wild cat, every movement of mine charted, analyzed, and worked into how best to take me out. I must say, even I was scared of this predator. Luckily, I often found myself in his good graces, but I finally understood how Levi Ackerman looked to his enemies. And it was terrifying.

   Levi rounded on me again, getting low to the ground, seemingly to sweep my feet out from under me. I backed up quickly, and aimed another kick for his shoulders, which were at the height of my hips. I had planned on knocking him over and pinning him that way, but of course nothing is that easy with Levi.

    I realized he was faking me out just a second too late.

   He caught my leg as I kicked, using the awkwardly balanced form of a ruined kick to throw my body to the ground chest first. I hit the dirt hard. Dust filled my mouth and eyes, but when I tried to cough, nothing happened. Panic rose in my stomach as I realized no oxygen was entering my body. The wind had been knocked from my lungs when that ass threw me. And now I couldn’t breathe. Tears began to stream down my face and my desperate hands flew to my throat. The sound of dry gasps filled my ears, only worsening my alarm. I knew I wasn’t going to suffocate, but that knowledge did nothing to help my paralyzed lungs start working again. 

   A strong hand grabbed my shoulder and flipped me onto my back as I continued trying to inflate my stupid fucking lungs. Levi stared down at me with concern bright in his eyes. 

   “(Y/N), don’t be aggressive with it. Try to draw breath slowly.” He told me, the calm tone of his voice a vast difference from the look on his face. I listened, trying to mimic the feeling of taking a deep breath. Suddenly, fresh oxygen flooded into my body, and I took gulping lungfuls as Levi massaged my ribs, just where my lungs would be. “Are you alright?”

   “I’m fine, you asshole. You didn’t need to throw me that hard.” I responded, chuckling slightly to show him I wasn’t mad. “My mistake for trying to spar you.” 

   All at once, I realized the rest of the scouts were still watching us. I sat up with Levi’s help as he waved them away, telling them to go to dinner and enjoy their weekend. Jean and Connie stuck around for a bit longer, just to make sure I was okay. I told them I was and thanked them for their concern with a hug. I could tell neither had been hugged in a while when they stiffened beneath my touch before melting into the hug. Connie had tears in his eyes when I pulled away, and Jean looked rather sad as well. They didn’t say much after that and bid me and Levi a good night.

   “Why’d you do that?” Levi asked as soon as the younger men were out of sight.

   “They looked like they needed a hug.” I shrugged, clasping my hand in his and beginning our walk towards the Mess Hall.

-

    We ended up getting back to our shared quarters about an hour later. The Mess Hall was relatively empty, likely due to most soldiers returning home for the weekend. Levi and I tried to eat quickly, but ended up talking to both Hange and Erwin. Hange wanted to know where Eren was going to be for the weekend, and that earned her a sharp glare and some choice words from Levi, basically telling her not to bug the poor kid on his weekend off. She simply smiled and left in a hurry. Next, Erwin wanted to talk to Levi about something regarding reports on some of the 104th recruits. He decided to fully explain his thought process before apologizing and telling Levi that he didn’t “need to think about that until Monday”. Which only set Levi on edge when we were supposed to be enjoying our time off. I practically had to drag him back to our room so he wouldn’t go ask Erwin for further details on the reports. 

  And then he sat at his desk and looked over reports anyway.

  “Levi,” I called from our bedroom, where I was currently getting ready to sleep. “Come to bed. The reports can wait.”

   “In a second…” He murmured back, obviously not listening to anything I was saying. I huffed and rolled my eyes. Some start to our weekend off…

   Then, I got an idea. One that was sure to get him to pay attention to me. 

   Trying to hide my intentions, I walked back into the office area where Levi was sitting at his desk. He was scanning over a document that I didn’t particularly care to identify as I glided behind him. I ran my hands from the tops of his shoulders down to his chest, where I traced shapes. My mouth ended up ghosting along his jaw, leaving small kisses or the occasional nip as I followed his sharp bone structure. Under my touch, I felt him tense slightly, trying to stay focused on the work he shouldn’t be doing.

   “Levi…” I breathed into his ear once I finished my attack on his jaw. “Worry about this on Monday, I think I need to get an apology for how badly you beat me earlier.” I smirked and untangled myself from him, hoping he believed what I wanted him to. “I’ll be in bed.” I told him, sauntering around the corner once again. 

   I had only just sat on the bed when Levi walked into the room. His cheeks were flushed and he looked focused, just not on his reports. I knew my words and actions had done the trick. He threw me a predatory glance (not unlike I had seen on the sparring field earlier) and turned around to begin removing his work clothes rather slowly, allowing me a bit of a show.

   Stepping into some sweatpants, he flexed the rippling muscles on his back, no doubt to really get me in “the mood”. But I knew my objective and had to see it through without distractions, just like the good soldier I was trained to be.

   I launched my assault just before he turned around.

   “What the-” He began as I wrapped my arms around his waist, but was quickly cut off when I threw our combined weight backwards onto the bed. I quickly flipped us so I was straddling him. It goes without saying that he was pissed.

   “Hi, baby.” I purred, grappling against him as he tried to throw me off of his hips.

   “(Y/N), what the fuck?” Levi growled, his blush completely gone. I gripped his wrists where his fingertips were digging into my hips. He had stopped fighting back, and was now glowering up at me with his beautiful eyes.

   “I just wanted payback for earlier, you know, when you threw me so hard I couldn’t breathe.” I tore his hands from my hips and attempted to push them up and over his head. He didn’t let me. “Figured I would pin you and make it all better, but it seems that I’ve bruised your fragile ego.”

   He let out an annoyed sigh. “I apologized for that, and you didn’t bruise anything, shithead.” 

   “Ooh, toilet humor already? Why, Levi, you flatter me!” 

   “Get off of me, you behemoth.” 

   I giggled, stretching out on top of him and touching our noses together. “Hmm… No, I don’t think I will. If you’re just going to lay there, why shouldn’t I make myself comfy too?”

   He leaned his chin up and nipped at my lower lip. “You get up now, and I will still sleep with you tonight. Otherwise, no sex for a week.” Empty threats now, huh?

   “That’s okay, I wasn’t in the mood anyway. I was just looking to get you all horned up so I could tease you like this.” 

   Levi’s eye twitched and he finally snapped. With a growl, he threw me off of him and was back above me in a flash. 

   “Fine, you want to pin me? Go for it.” He uttered, hot breath against my neck and chest as he peppered kisses along my skin. He was trying to get me in the mood.

   But I had expected this and would not be persuaded to give in. 

   I pulled my wrists from his reach and snaked them around his torso, pulling his chest down towards me. Two could play at this game. I also started sucking and biting at his throat, quickly finding the one spot below his Adam’s apple that makes him very vocal. The soft groans began to pour out of him, and soon enough he pulled back.

   “That’s cheating, you can’t just-,” I cut him off with my lips, sitting up to connect our them and roll him onto his back from where he was straddling me. Levi grunted into the kiss, wrapping his legs around mine and holding my arms to my sides. He held me fast, and at first I thought he was being cute. But he held me roughly, like a captor. I broke the kiss and sighed, realizing my predicament. 

   I was completely incapacitated and he won again.

   “I hate that you can do this to me.” I grumbled, resting my head against his bare chest. He chuckled, which made me smile. 

   “Maybe we should spar more often.” 

   “Maybe I should learn how to tie a good knot.”

   “You are NOT tying me up.”

   “We’ll see…”

    My limbs were released and I was yanked up to his eye level. Levi gave me his best “you better fucking not” scowl and I simply pressed a kiss to his nose. 

   “Now,” My leg nestled it’s way into between his. “What was this about sleeping with me?” 

-

( Hi, so I haven’t posted anything in a week. I am so sorry. And on top of that this was completely unrequested. Uhmmmm... wow, I’m awful. I do have a request that has been sitting in my inbox that I’m going to get out before Halloween, and then a couple others I want out before Thanksgiving. I can and will do it, trust me! Anyway, I hope everyone has a great Halloween! Thank you for the wonderful support, I love you all!!)

[generallynerdy]

And they’ve already began forgetting, whether they know it or not (Cal Kestis/Hera Syndulla/Kanan Jarrus)

Summary: With Vader on their tails, Cal tells Hera a hard truth. She doesn’t want to hear it, but she needs to. The only question is, will Kanan ever forgive them for this?

Warnings: Angst, Fake Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Burns, Serious Injuries, Self-Sacrifice, Goodbyes, Nightmares, Scars

Word Count: 2,343

Prompt: Angstpril Day 1 - “You have to let me go.”

Author’s Note: you know the Inquisitor!Cal concept I was ranting about? Yeah, this is the start of it lol. I saw that the first Angstpril prompt matched one of my lines of dialogue perfectly and lost my shit, so it’s basically destiny. I hope to continue this in the future as a series, but for now enjoy this terrible, depressing one-shot. :) Title is from Obituary Generator by Mariah Bosch.

Read On AO3

*

“Hera!”

She won’t stop running. Her body burns with the effort and Cal tugs her hand, trying to stop her, but she keeps going. She may not be able to feel the poison of Vader’s presence quite so literally as he and Kanan can, but she knows he’s not far away.

“They’re in the tunnel, it’s not much farther—” she manages breathlessly.

“Hera, stop!”

He stops cold, forcing her to turn and face him.

The lights flicker in the lifeless hallway, the pair the only people in sight. The floor is cold and the walls dark, the choking colour scheme of an Imperial fortress. Cal feels it more than she does; the Force here is entirely dark and threatens to drown him each passing moment. Maybe that’s why he’s more winded than his Twi’lek companion, or maybe it’s the lightsaber wound across his chest.

Hera had managed to save him from dying at Vader’s blade, but that scar will always remain. It burns into his skin like shame.

“If Vader catches up,” Cal gasps out, breath heaving, “he’ll kill all of us.”

“He won’t if we keep going,” she says sharply, ever sure of herself. “C’mon—”

He pulls her back before she can keep walking. “Hera.” It’s firm and fearful enough to keep her still. “I can distract him.”

BD-1, on the floor next to his feet, wails in distress.

Her eyes widen. “No. No! No, absolutely not—”

“I’m a liability,” he argues, unable to even gesture to his injury without wincing at the pull. “He can’t get his hands on the holocron. If you run ahead, you can get it to Kanan and Cere and the three of you can get the hell out of here.”

“He will kill you!” She grabs his poncho and holds him close. “Or worse, turn you into an Inquisitor!”

Cal cradles her face, his eyes shining with desperation. “My life for thousands,” he whispers. “Like my Masters before me.”

“I can’t let you do this, Cal.”

Already, she’s crying. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch and they both know it. The decision might have already been made, considering the ache she already feels in her chest. It’s not her choice and yet she feels guilt rise like nausea.

He reveals the Holocron, pressing it into her shaking hands. “Bring it to Cere. Protect it with your lives or destroy it,” he orders. “Give those kids the chance me and Kanan never got.”

The chance to live. He thinks of Master Jaro, of Master Depa, Grey, and Styles. He thinks of his fellow Padawans, all cut down in the name of power. But most of all he thinks of the children listed in that Holocron, who have committed a crime all their lives without ever knowing it.

BD whirrs and it pulls in Cal’s chest. He gives a sad smile, crouching to the little droid’s height.

“Go with Hera, buddy, okay? She’ll take care of you.” He pets BD’s head, trying to ignore the whines he makes. After a moment, he looks back up at Hera. “I’ll hold him back as long as I can.”

A sob lodges itself in Hera’s throat. “Kanan will never forgive you.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but Cal shuts his eyes tight, pained by the thought as he stands again.

“And you will?” he asks with a rueful huff of laughter.

She puts a gentle hand on his cheek, caressing a scar that rests there. “I already have,” she murmurs.

He shuts his eyes again, that same grimace on his face as he rests his forehead against hers. Then, he kisses her. It’s gentle and drawn out, a lingering sensation against her salty lips. She takes it with an aching sort of grief, the pit of a forbidden knowledge heavy in her stomach. No one should know when their last interaction with someone is, but she does.

“That was for you,” Cal says when he pulls back.

He kisses her again, fiercely this time. It has a message, one she doesn’t understand.

“That was for Kanan.”

He’ll understand it, even if she never will.

Hera hugs him, burying her face in his shoulder as his hand rests on her back. One of her lekku twists around his wrist, as if reminding her of his steadily beating pulse.

Alarms begin to roar around them, a warning.

“Hera.” It’s gentle at first, but he must sense something because desperation catches in his voice. “You have to let me go. Let go. Hera, let go.”

He pries her off, taking her hands in his gloved ones. Though it’s ridiculous, he wishes that an Echo of hers would spark to life and give him one last memory to think of. Instead, he’s left wiping away the remnant of a tear from her cheek. He steps back after, pulling his lightsaber off his belt.

Hera swallows. “Cal, I—”

I love you.

She can’t say it. And she curses herself for it.

They’ve never needed words, but it would mean everything to hear it out loud, just once. Just once, she begs her own unmoving lips.

He smiles, knowing and sad and all the more infuriating. “Me, too,” he whispers.

Not too far away now, another lightsaber buzzes to life.

“Go,” he says finally, his face sharpening into something like determination. “Get out of here!”

She nods and tucks the holocron away into her jacket, allowing BD to hop onto her shoulder. Her first steps are in lead boots, but finally, she manages to shake herself out of her stupor and turn away, running toward the exit. It takes everything in her not to look back, not to seek out one last glimpse of that fiery red hair and the twin pair of yellow blades that snap and hiss as they activate. BD watches, though, a little light blinking on the side of his head. He chirps, almost like a goodbye, but Cal never hears it.

Opposite Cal, the shadow of the galaxy’s golden age looms. He brandishes his blood-red blade, bathed in red and yellow light. His rasping breaths haunt the air.

Though it burns more than anything Cal has ever felt before, he twirls his double-bladed lightsaber, letting its golden light wash over him, secure in the knowledge that his fate is his own.

Finally, the ghost speaks.

“Your attempts are admirable, but useless. You and your friends will fall at my hand. There is no escape.”

“Does it look like I’m running?” Cal asks, settling into a fighting stance. “Musty bitch.”

*

Hera flies up from bed, her throat burning like she’s been screaming.

A jerk away from the cold metal wall of her bunk sends her over the edge of it, right toward the floor. She has half a second to close her eyes and brace herself for the impact, but—

It never comes.

She opens her eyes, only to find the floor a few inches away. A green mist encompasses her body, holding her up and keeping her safe. Glancing at the door of her room, she sees Merrin in the doorway, her fingers smoking with that same green mist.

“You should think about installing railings,” the Nightsister says dryly.

Hera only huffs and tenses when she starts to move. With a wave of Merrin’s pale hand, she’s standing upright and is let down carefully. She steadies herself with a deep breath, unaware of the little droid at her friend’s heels.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, dusting herself off. Then, she glances up. “How did you know I was—?”

“I didn’t. Cere asked me to check on you. Lucky for your face.”

If Hera didn’t know her any better, it would be sharp, but unfortunately, she does. So, she snorts. “Lucky for the floor.”

She goes to stretch, her muscles sore with sleep. Instead, she stops abruptly, wincing when her lekku tingles. Lifting a hand to its end, she doesn’t notice the flash of concern on Merrin’s face until she speaks again.

“Alright?”

“Fine, just slept on it funny. It’s numb,” she admits with a rueful laugh.

Raising an eyebrow, Merrin wiggles her fingers, miming magick. “I can help,” she suggests.

Hera visibly hesitates. “...you can?”

Nightsister magicks tend to be dark, according to Kanan and, once upon a time, Cal, but that doesn’t mean they always are. They have the capacity to heal and, though aware of that, Hera didn’t realise they could help with numbness of all things.

“A touch of healing magick and a massage,” Merrin explains shortly. “It’s not rocket science.”

Hera laughs. “If it were, I’d understand it.” Then, she nods. “I’d appreciate it.”

They settle on the bottom bunk, which usually belongs to Sabine. However, the teen has been trying to barter for the top bunk and, with this latest fall, Hera is tempted to give in. The young Mandalorian is sturdier than she is and far less prone to night terrors.

Merrin has a surprisingly gentle touch, carefully interwoven with wisps of glowing mist. Despite her initial reluctance, Hera lets out a grateful sigh when the feeling starts to return to her lekku. It’s like walking around swinging a numb arm; intensely uncomfortable. While Merrin works, BD-1 approaches, beeping concernedly and nudging the Twi’lek’s leg with his head.

“I’m okay, BD,” she reassures gently.

After a moment, Merrin speaks in a whisper. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hera has to look away from BD-1, something in her chest wrenching. She shuts her eyes. “No,” she says finally. “Not really.”

Merrin must notice her reaction to their droid friend because after a long enough moment to be somewhat normal, she speaks to him. “BD, could you go find her head wrap? She might have left it on the Mantis.”

He leaps up, chirping determinedly. When he rushes out of the room, intent on helping, Hera can’t help but let out a breath of relief.

Still working away, Merrin sighs. “You should hang back when we get to Lothal. We could use a pilot in case things go wrong.”

“Greez already offered,” she reminds her, frowning.

“The Mantis isn’t exactly ideal for the type of cargo we’re... borrowing.” She pauses. “Besides, you need a break.”

“I’m fine.”

She scoffs. “Yes, falling from your bed in a fit of terror is the behaviour of a fine person.” At Hera’s silence, she sighs again. “Look, I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Things have been difficult lately and whatever you see in your sleep isn’t helping. Just...let yourself rest, Hera. The galaxy won’t implode if you take a nap.”

Tell that to the Empire. Maybe they’d hold off on pulling the trigger, she thinks ruefully.

Eventually, she relaxes, and when Merrin finishes, BD reappears. This time, however, he’s not alone. Kanan stands a step behind him, eyes tight with worry. The weight on his shoulders lessens minutely at the sight of Hera.

BD ignores him, running up to the Twi’lek with her leather headwrap held tight in one metal foot. He beeps excitedly as he hands it to her.

She gives him as much of a smile as she can currently manage. “Thank you, BD. You’re my hero.”

He nudges her fondly before scampering over to Merrin, who huffs amusedly.

“C’mon,” she says, leaning down as she stands from the bunk so he can leap onto her shoulder. “Let’s see if we can’t coax Rabid out, hm?”

On their way out of the room, she sends a knowing glance at both Hera and Kanan before the door shuts behind her. Her voice, directed toward the devil droid on her shoulder, starts to fade after a few moments, growing more distant.

“I…” Kanan has to clear his throat, which is drier than Tatooine. “I felt your distress in the Force. Came back as soon as I could. You okay?”

Hera takes a moment to slip on her headwrap, grateful at the fact that her lekku are no longer tingling. “Better now, I think,” she admits.

He takes a step forward, asking. At her nod, he moves to sit beside her on the lower bunk and pulls her to his side. She rests her head on his shoulder. Shutting her eyes, she finally lets herself relax, knowing that she must be safe here, of all places. She takes comfort in Kanan’s touch and the way he runs his thumb across her shoulder, too. His breath of relief against her forehead makes her smile, just a little.

(And it certainly helps to clutch the stupid poncho he’s wearing in her hand. It’s an ugly near-white with black patterning that forms an arrow near the bottom. Outlander was what Cal called it. He loved giving them dramatic names like he’d made his own clothing line or something. Hera hates the Outlander one.)

“Nightmares?” he murmurs.

She nods slightly.

He hesitates, but finally asks what she’s anticipating. “The same one again?”

“Isn’t it always?” she retorts, more sad than sharp. There’s a long moment of silence before she speaks again and when she does, her voice wavers. “I can’t remember what he looked like.”

“Hera—”

“I know he had a scar on his cheek and across the bridge of his nose, that he had red hair and green eyes and the cutest karking smile in the galaxy, but I can’t remember it,” Hera says shakily. “I know what he should look like, but I can’t...picture it. And it drives me insane.”

Kanan squeezes her shoulder. “It’s been ten years. I forget, too.”

“I hate it,” she whispers.

The kiss to her temple is sweet and soft and it should bring her some sort of relief, but it doesn’t. It’s not nearly enough and Kanan knows that. There’s nothing he can do to soothe the ache in her chest where Cal used to live, because he can’t even soothe his own gaping wound.

All he can do is hold her close and say: “I know. I know.”

But, thinking of tear-stained, freckled cheeks and a bitter kiss goodbye, she can’t help but wonder if he really does.

*

River’s Tags: @mystoragehatesme & @hahaboop

Masterlist

[littlemisslol-fic]

Summary: Eugene was raised in a world of fire and blood. He barely remembers a time before the lights went out, the Blackout, that plunged humanity into a chaotic realm of violence and desperation. It’s been ten years since the end of the world, the birth of a graveyard that wasn’t kind to those too weak to take care of themselves- and it is there that Eugene finds a kid, abandoned to the wasteland and desperately trying to return home. Varian’s unassuming, easy prey in the hard-knock world Eugene’s come to call home, so it’s with begrudging acceptance he agrees to help the kid out. Not everything is as simple as he’d believe, however, and Varian hosts a few secrets of his own. In order to survive, they’ll have to learn to trust one another- though trust is a rare commodity in a world like theirs. No one man is an island after all.

Chapter Notes: Not all dangers are human.

“Okay goggles.” Eugene says over their afternoon lunch. “You’ve gotta learn how to fight.” 

 Varian looks up from his food, arching a brow. Eugene holds his expression, challenging the kid to argue. In response, Varian just holds out his twiggy little arm, gesturing it with a comically confused expression. 

 “Have you seen me?” The kid asks, dropping his hands. “I’m built for science, Eugene, not combat.” 

 “As you’ve shown, multiple times.” Eugene’s not going to back down on this one, no sir. “But that’s why you need practice. Your chemistry tricks are useful, and they’ll get you out of a tight situation, but you also gotta know how to throw a punch. C’mon, it’ll be fun.” 

 Varian looks doubtful, chewing idly on his thumbnail. A nervous tick, for sure. Eugene simply waits it out. He knows the ways of a dumb teenaged boy, they can’t resist dangerous pastimes. His own youth had been enough proof of that.  

 “If I remember correctly,” The kid mutters, “I had to save you.” 

 “And you did, through sheer, dumb luck.” 

 Varian scowls, but nods. “I guess it can’t hurt.” He says, slowly getting to his feet.

 Eugene smiles, leafing through his bag, looking for something. His sword’s too big, too heavy for the kid to practice with without the very real chance of him hurting himself- if they had more time, Eugene would pawn something for a lighter blade, but for now all they have is what he has in his bag. It should be in there somewhere…

 “Ah-hah,” He mutters, pulling at something in the very bottom of the backpack, long left down there under layers and layers of clothing. With a triumphant grin he pulls out a small knife, barely longer than Eugene’s forearm, in a basic leather sheath. Varian peers at him with curiosity, nerves lacing his eye at the sight of the blade.

 “Here we go.” Eugene grins, standing straight and tossing the sheathed blade to Varian without preamble. The boy stutters to life, nearly fumbling the blade but managing to grab it and hold it tightly with both hands. Eugene smiles setting the bag down to his left. “That should work for you.” He says, grinning as Varian looks at the knife with wide eyes. “I’ve had it since I was a little older than you.” 

 “My dad never let me use a knife.” Varian winces, pulling the blade from the sheath and looking surprised when the metal glints back at him. “He said it was dangerous, that I should wait until I’m older. Corona’s safe-” 

 “I mean, obviously it’s not.” Eugene snarks, cocking his hip. “Or we wouldn’t be out here.” 

 Varian opens his mouth to argue, but Eugene can see the gears turning in that big brain of his. After a second more of contemplation, Varian’s mouth shuts closed with a click. The kid finally nods his agreement, unable to bicker. 

 “I guess it can’t hurt.” Varian repeats eventually. “But I still think I’ll stick to science, if I can.”

 Eugene rolls his eyes and draws his sword. “Sure, kid,” he says. “But for now, I’m going to show you how to deal with your problems the quick way.” 

 Varian gulps, taking the knife out from its leather case. He nervously follows Eugene’s stance, his footwork shaky and his arms too far apart. Eugene sighs, dropping his arms and stepping. He kicks at Varian’s foot, nudging it towards a better spot. 

 “Bring your feet in.” He says, idly kicking at the other foot. Varian complies, his stance a little taller, a lot more solid. “Feel your center of gravity?” The kid nods. “Good, yeah. That’s the biggest part of winning a fight, is keeping your feet under you. You trip, you’re dead.” 

 “Unless I come to save you.” This little shit.

 “Sure, unless your plucky waif sidekick comes to bail you out, you’re dead meat.”

 The kid scowls, but when Eugene faces him again the nervous expression creeps back in. It only gets worse as Eugene takes his own stance, holding his sword out. 

 “Alright, goggles. Follow me. I’m going to show you a guard, first.” 

 The afternoon goes quickly after that, the two of them slowly moving through the drills Eugene had learned as an older teenager. He remembers at the start of the blackout, everyone had resorted to guns and other, more destructive weapons to beat the chaos. As things had settled, and as the ammo ran out, people had swapped to blades for necessity, even if it did mean that Eugene’s generation had been left just a little behind. He’d had to learn quick, keep on his feet, and it had served him well. It felt oddly right to be passing on his knowledge to someone younger than him, to know that Varian would be able to use the information to help foster his own safety- and maybe someday pass it on to someone else in the distant future. Like a little piece of Eugene living on even after he was long dead.

 Varian’s a quick enough study, thankfully. He’s clumsy, in the way that all kids are when they’re in the middle of a growth spurt. Kid’s fourteen, and it’s obvious that he’s only recently started to gain his height- even if he’s still short. Eugene would be willing to bet that Varian’s got at least one short parent- though a lot of kids nowadays are shorter due to malnutrition. Even if he’s small though, Varian’s quick, much quicker than Eugene had been at that age. The man can already tell where Varian’s advantage over the Saporians had been, during his original run for freedom before he’d found Eugene.

 The thought of their pursuers snaps the man from his musing. They didn’t have a lot of free time, they had to move on soon. Eugene looks to Varian with a thoughtful expression, before speaking up.

 “Alright,” Eugene grunts when the sun is at its highest peak. “Time to try a spar, and then we’ll get walking again.” 

 “A spar?” Varian looks pale, any of the blooming confidence in him snuffing right out. “Like against each other?” 

 “That’s typically what it means, yes.” Eugene rolls his eyes. 

 “But what if one of us gets hurt?” Varian’s eyes flick down to the bandage wrapping Eugene’s hand. It still hurts, but Eugene won’t let it stop him. He’s had worse, and probably will continue to have worse. It’s the way of the wastes. It’s nice of the kid to care, though.

 “I’ll make sure neither of us do.” He assures Varian with an easy grin. “Besides, the forms are all well and good, but if you can’t apply them, they’re useless.” 

 And like that, he swings his sword towards Varian. It’s slow, barely a swipe at all. The kid still screams and topples down onto his ass, grunting as he hits the dirt. The knife slips out of his hand, clattering against a stone. The teenager groans, glaring up at Eugene. 

 “I wasn’t ready!” Varian gripes, picking himself up off the dirt. “No fair!” 

 “Only corpses fight fair.” Eugene says. It’s blunt, but his point gets across. Varian flinches, something like irritation skitters across his face. But Varian still scoops the knife out of the dirt, and stands back up. His hoodie hangs off him as he brushes the dirt off it before Varian takes his stance again, this time looking a little more serious. 

 Eugene waits for a second before making another swipe, again slow and deliberately clumsy to get the kid used to the idea of fighting. Varian backs away from it - Eugene sees a break in his footwork, but it’s stronger than it was before so the man doesn’t take advantage of the opening. Instead he moves forwards to follow the kid, mirroring the less than stellar stance and hoping that Varian would take the chance. 

 He feels a small surge of pride when the kid does.

 Varian takes a hesitant kick towards Eugene’s legs. The man fumbles more than he would, letting Varian have the small win before he twists up and-

 Hears the cracking noise of glass. 

 Eugene lets out a small shout as he legitimately topples over, his feet trapped in a noxious smelling pink goo. His mind flips to when they’d run from Andrew, Eugene hitting the ground hard. He tastes grass, spluttering as he manages to flip over onto his back and look up at Varian with shock. 

 The kid grins, putting his hand in his pocket and drawing out another bomb. Eugene looks at him with what must be a hilarious expression- one of shock, for sure, maybe of offense- because Varian starts to laugh.

 It’s a snorting, high pitched thing, the kid covering his mouth as if to muffle the giggles. “Your face!” He laughs, tears of mirth springing up. Eugene can’t help but laugh too, even as he tries to kick at the goo. He’s stuck fast, it seems, can’t even wiggle out of his boots. 

 “Yes, fine, haha.” Eugene snarks, “You’re hilarious, now let me out of here.”

 Varian keeps giggling, unable to look at Eugene without cracking up again. It is, Eugene realizes with a sudden thought, the first time he’s heard the kid laugh in the last four days of walking together. The idea is both sad and wonderful at the same time, sad that Varian hadn’t had anything to laugh at yet, but wonderful in that now there is- even at Eugene’s expense. 

 “Okay,” The kid gasps out, reaching into his pocket. He wipes at his eyes, rubbing away the last of the tears as he draws a vial from inside of his hoodie- and really where did he keep all this junk- before pausing. “One thing.” 

 “Kid, c’mon-” 

 “Admit that my alchemy can be useful.” Varian’s still shaking with the last ghosts of his giggles, biting at his lip to keep composure. The smushed expression Varian has only gets worse when Eugene rolls his eyes; the kid’s having the time of his life at Eugene’s expense, it seems. 

 “I dunno,” Eugene says, drawing it out for the hell of it. Let Varian have some fun, why not? “It’s a fun party trick, but I still say a good stabbing is more than enough to get your point across.” 

 Varian holds the vial up, inspecting it in the sunlight. He doesn’t say a word, already knowing that Eugene will break. 

 And break he does.

 “Okay, fine.” Eugene drops to his back in a showy, dramatic display. “I yield to the awesome power of alchemy and science. Now get me out of here!” 

 Varian snickers again, tipping the vial. The pink liquid within hits the goo encasing Eugene’s feet, eating away at it with a sharp hiss. It smells like sulfur, though to be honest with the amount of times Varian’s used his bombs Eugene’s going nose-blind to it.

 “There.” The kid says, “Was that so hard?” 

 “Agonizing.” Eugene mutters, refusing to get up off the ground. “Absolutely horrifying, this is torture. How could you, kid? I thought we were friends!” 

 Varian laughs again. He leans over Eugene, his head haloed by the sun above. “That’s what you get for trying to deny the power of science.” The kid says. He holds out a small hand in offering. Eugene takes it, groaning at the ache in his knees as he stands. He groans as he stretches the aches out of bones, shaking himself to chase away the lingering pain.

 “Good fight.” he says. Varian’s face splits into a big grin, the boy looking ecstatic at the praise. Eugene can’t help but mirror it. “We’ll keep practicing, you’ll be a master in no time.”

 They pack up after that, tucking away the few supplies they’d used to make lunch and heading off into the wide unknown under a blanket of bright sunlight. It’s much faster a process than Eugene’s used to; with Varian’s help their things are packed away within minutes. When they walk away from the grove, Varian keeps the knife on his belt.

 Eugene can’t help but feel calmer at the sight of it. 

 >>>><<<<

 It’s another day before they run into trouble again. 

 “Ah. Shit.” Eugene says, looking down into the gorge in front of them. Varian looks to him with a curious expression, before looking down to the bottom of the sixty-foot drop. Water rushes by at the very bottom, far enough away to be nothing but subtle background noise. Varian makes a questioning noise at the curse.

 “See,” Eugene sighs, “There used to be a bridge here.” 

 “Oh.” Varian grimaces at the gorge, peeking back down. At the very bottom, half sticking out of the water, is a series of rusted spires sticking out of the rapids like reaching fingers pointing for the sky. What’s left of the bridge spans the gap, split in half down the length of it. The metal frame is all that remains on the right side, just barely clinging to the rock and proving a very narrow footpath. It’s not safe in the slightest, but to walk around would be at least another three days- time they don’t really have, considering who’s on their tail. 

 Dark clouds roll overhead, it’s definitely going to rain, just a matter of when. Eugene can already hear the starting of thunder. If they’re going to chance a crossing it will have to be soon; the rain would only make everything more precarious. The air feels charged, something in it makes Eugene expect lighting, which… perfect.

 “It must have rusted until the weight was too much.” Varian says, rubbing at his chin as he puzzles. “Bridges are always weakest in the middle, it’s unsurprising that it would break from there and go towards the edges. The physics say-” 

 “Yep, thanks kid.” Eugene says, not wanting to cut Varian off, but the threat of rain looms over them both. Crossing would be brutal if the metal was wet. If Eugene had his way they’d take the long way, he’s not stupid enough to risk life and limb for some saved time unless it’s dire, but with the Saporians skulking around behind them it wasn’t a matter of choice. 

 “What are we gunna do?” Varian’s voice is small, the kid peeking over the edge of the cliff again. Eugene reaches over without thinking, gently grabbing the kid by the hood and dragging him back from the edge. Varian doesn’t even question it, going along like it’s a normal occurrence.

 “Well, first we’re going to step away from the precarious edge,” he says, “And second we’re going to have to cross on the side that’s still here.” 

 “What?!” Varian looks at him like he’s crazy, which he very well might be. Eugene huffs. The clouds above them swirl a little faster; there’s a rumble of thunder off in the distance. 

 “We don’t have time to go around.” He says, “Not with you-know-who following. We have to cross here. Even if it’s broken, it’s still metal. It should hold-”

 “It’s structurally compromised!” Oh, goodie, Varian seems like he wants to argue, what fun. “If we walk around on it, it could crumble under us! Look at the rust, there’s no way the supports will hold!” 

 “We don’t have much of a choice, googles.” Eugene grumps, rolling his shoulders under the backpack. 

 Varian pauses at that, his face dropping into a frown. The kid knows Eugene’s right, he must, but that doesn’t mean either of them like it. Buck teeth bite into his lip, a nervous expression taking over those baby blue eyes. The kid turns back to the bridge, looking with wide eyes as the metal groans.

 “I should take the bag.” He says, not looking at Eugene. The man cocks his head, but Varian picks at his gloves and doesn’t face him. “I weigh less. If I take the bag we’ll be more equal, hopefully it will make it less likely to break under you.” 

 “Are you calling me fat?” Eugene covers the nerves with a joke. It falls flat. “Because, I’ll have you know, I have a figure like Adonis-”

 “And you weigh more than me.” Varian’s voice is dry, but Eugene can hear the humour. “So give me the bag, and you can go first, Adonis.” 

 The bridge is about twenty meters across. The half still connected is a mess of tangled metal and cracked asphalt, the whole thing drooping down like a wet paper towel into the gap below. Eugene hates this, hates the feeling of rusty metal under his boots as he slowly inches onto the bridge. Eugene can hear is own shaky breathing, feel the thump-thump of his steadily increasing heartbeat. The earth below drops away as he gets farther from the edge, dipping down into the rushing rapids below. The wind begins to pick up, the clouds above so thick it nearly looks like evening. Eugene grunts as the bridge gives a groan and sways a little in the gusts. A thick sense of apprehension coats the air, tense and cloying as Eugene slowly shuffles into the metal support beams on the outside. It’s the only part left relatively intact, a perfect tightrope of steel that’s a foot wide. 

 He hears shuffling behind him and knows that Varian, backpack well secured, is following. Eugene continues to move forwards, his boots grating against chipped green paint as he slides one foot in front of the other. The tension continues to mount the further away from solid ground they get, nerves clawing up from Eugene’s chest and settling in his throat. He chokes them down. Varian was already scared to all hell and it was up to Eugene, as the adult here, to at least pretend to be calm for the kid’s sake. He takes a small peek back, sees Varian lagging a bit. The teenager looks positively green, refusing to look away from where his hands are clinging to the metal railing. Eugene takes another deep breath, keeps moving. All they have to do is make it to the other end of this deranged tight-rope.

 He’s nearly to the center of the bridge when he feels the first raindrop hit his skin. 

 Eugene’s head snaps to the sky just as the rain begins, a clap of thunder ringing loud enough to scare a few birds from their posts. Eugene’s hair begins to stick to his forehead, the rain rushing down in heavy sheets that he can barely see through. The man brings up a hand to wipe the water from his face, trying harder to see, but stops his lost cause. 

 The bridge creaks ominously under them. 

 “We should go back!” Varian cries. Eugene stupidly looks down, the sudden rush of vertigo that follows more than enough for him. They are ridiculously high up, Eugene can’t help but feel the sickening twist of his stomach nearly take over. When he looks away, he chokes back the bile, gritting his teeth.

 “We can’t!” The man argues, turning to face the kid. Varian looks just as miserable as Eugene feels in the rain, though the boy’s pulled his goggles down to cover his eyes at least. The kid looks like a drowned rat, limp, wet hair plastered to his face and his hoodie already soaked through. Varian frowns at Eugene’s denial, but the man simply turns around and keeps shuffling forwards, unrelenting.  

 They have to make it.

 There’s no other choice. 

 The rain comes down in sheets. It pummels at Eugene’s back, makes the metal slick under his boots. He finally draws close to the other side of the bridge, breathing a sigh of relief as the rushing water below disappears past a ledge of sweet, solid earth. He gets all the way off the metal at long last, the surge of adrenaline leaving at the beautiful feeling of dirt under his boots. He hisses out a sigh again, wanting to bend down and kiss the rocks under him-

 But that sigh turns into a gasp as he hears a metallic groan behind him. 

 Eugene whips around just in time to see a hefty gust of wind rock the metal frame of the bridge, the whole thing shuddering like a house of cards. Chunks of metal and asphalt fall into the gorge below, the splashing noise as they hit water nearly inaudible through the constant roar of heavy rain. 

 Eugene just barely catches sight of Varian as the kid wobbles along with the metal frame. Before he can think, he’s running forwards, a burst of adrenaline catches him as he races back towards the kid as the bridge begins to fall apart in the high winds.

 Varian shrieks as the bridge starts to crumble behind him, the metal and asphalt giving way and toppling into the gorge below. The kid drops to his knees on the beam, grabbing tightly to it as the bridge continues to collapse. Eugene’s sprinting up on top of the metal before he can think about it, running as fast as his burning legs will carry him. 

 Below him, the metal continues to scream.

 “Varian!” He yells, stopping short of the kid as a chunk of the bridge falls in front of him. He’s cut off from the kid, he realizes with dawning horror; there’s no way to properly get to Varian without trying to jump, which will result in him either plummeting to his death, or snapping the thin metal holding Varian’s beam in place- killing them both. The only thing left holding Varian’s piece of the bridge up is an upper support beam; the kid is dangling over the drop by nothing but thin slips of metal and a prayer. Eugene’s heart races in his ears, a pulsing, rabbit’s beat as the panic takes him. Varian’s locked up and Eugene can’t get to him­-

 The bridge crumbles behind the kid like sand, the last of it dropping down into the water below. Varian lets out another wordless scream as his last piece sways again in the high winds. Eugene can see how the kid clings to what’s left of the beam, battered by the wind and rain as the last of the structure begins to slide down into the gorge.

 Eugene feels a spike of pure terror as the whole thing gives a sickening jolt down into the gorge, the structural support of the bridge giving way as the seconds tick by. He can’t get to the kid-

 “Varian!” He shouts again, reaching a hand out towards the boy. “Varian, buddy, you gotta move, c’mere-”

 “Are you crazy?!” Varian wails, terror obviously causing his body to lock itself around the bar. Even if Varian’s smart enough to know it’s not going to save him, his instincts demand he cling to the illusion of safety. Eugene grimaces as the bridge sways again- the rain batters them both, makes it nearly impossible to hear anything outside its roar. 

 “Kid, please!” God, if he could get over there without the risk of the whole thing collapsing- “You’ve gotta let go, walk towards me. You can’t stay there!” 

 Varian shakes his head with a whine, clinging tighter to the metal. Eugene can see another piece of the metal snap off like a twig. A wave of terror rushes through Eugene at the sight. His eyes widen, snapping back to the kid and trying to shuffle farther out on his ledge. Varian’s still at least a meter away, much too far to grab, but Eugene tries, nonetheless. They’re running out of time-

 “KID!” His voice snaps with panic as the whole structure slides forwards and lurches to a stop as it catches on the rockface. “Varian, you gotta trust me, okay?” 

 Varian shudders. Shakes his head. Presses his forehead into the metal. 

 “I can’t!” 

 “You can, you just have to move before the whole thing comes down!” Eugene can feel the panic clogging his throat, clawing at him from within like a wild animal- “Varian, do you want to go home or not?!” 

 That seems to snap Varian from the fear, the kid’s head whipping up to meet Eugene’s eye. Eugene holds his dazed stare for a second more, praying for the kid to listen to him. For a second the noise fades, the world shrinking down to the two of them.

 Eugene can’t help but feel the relief rushing in as Varian slowly lets go of the beam.

 Varian lets go one hand at a time, his expression pained, like it hurts him to do so. The kid inches onto his feet again, shaking and refusing to look away from Eugene. The man nods encouragingly, holding out his own hand as far as it’ll go. That draws the kid’s attention, Varian looking down to it and starting to shuffle forwards, reaching out for Eugene with a trembling hand.

 The bridge gives another lurch-

 Varian shrieks as he suddenly drops, the kid’s hand just an inch shy of Eugene’s own-

 The man lunges forwards with a shout, borderline throwing himself forwards in a desperate bid to catch the kid as the bridge fully gives way, the last of it crumbling into the gorge below. Eugene can’t hear a single thing beyond the frantic beating of his heart, the shrill scream Varian makes as he falls…

 And the sudden silence as Eugene’s hand manages to snag Varian’s hand, yanking the kid forward and off the falling beam. The boy slams into Eugene’s chest with a thump, the kid letting out an oomph. Eugene nearly topples over from the sudden weight, but uses the momentum to carry them backwards, holding Varian tight enough to bruise. Eugene twists himself, the motion helping to carry them forwards and onto solid ground. 

 They land with a grunt, Eugene cushioning the blow with his spine ow-

 The bridge lets out one last groan as the concrete anchors let go at long last. Eugene manages to sit up just in time to see the metal slip over the edge. Just like that, all that’s left of the bridge is a series of holes and a mess at the bottom of the gorge. He hears the distant crash of the metal hitting ground, the splashing of displaced water, and can’t help but laugh. He tilts his face towards the clouds, chest heaving. 

 “Holy shit.” Eugene gasps. His eyes are closed, face to the sky. He refuses to open them, content to lay down and let the rain wash at his face. “Holy shit, that was too close for comfort… You good, kid? You were nearly a pancake!” 

 Eugene cracks his eyes open again, peeking over to where Varian’s already sitting up. The kid’s shaking, one hand covering his mouth and the other clutching deeply into the mud. He shudders, staring with wide eyes at the place the bridge used to be. Eugene feels himself tense at the wild look in the kid’s eyes.

 “Oh. Oh shit, hey, are you okay?” Eugene asks, looking Varian over with urgency. The kid doesn’t look hurt, there Isn’t any blood that he could see… “Goggles, look at me.” Eugene tries to goad Varian, but can’t seem to break the kid’s horrified stare at the gorge. “It’s okay, you’re alright- we made it. You did good.” 

 Varian blinks once, twice. Sniffles. Those baby cheeks smush as the boy’s expression crumbles. Eugene tenses as the kid lets out a loud sob, his hands dropping to grab at his own heart. The boy wails, not angry, but generally upset- for good reason. Eugene fumbles for a second before putting a hand on the kid’s shoulder, shuffling closer. Varian tenses for a second, but quickly relaxes when he realizes it’s just Eugene. 

 “It’s okay,” The man murmurs. It’s only a little surprising when Varian throws himself at Eugene, gripping tightly to the man’s jacket and shuddering in the rain. Eugene’s wrapping his arms around the kid before he can think, hugging him tightly as Varian works through the panic now that the danger has passed. If it’s also for his own comfort, the feeling of relief at having the kid safe and sound and not splattered on the rocks… well, that’s only for him to know.

 “You’re okay.” Eugene says again. Varian sobs into his chest, arms tight around his ribs. “You’re okay, kid, it’s alright. You’re safe, we made it.” 

 Varian shudders. Eugene feels those too-thin fingers tighten their grip on his jacket. Eugene squirms a bit under the contact, but the kid only shakes harder, and at the gasping breaths Eugene knows Varian’s not exactly in the right state of mind, so he bears it. He brings up a hand to pat at the kid’s back, trying to calm him down. Varian doesn’t seem ready to move quite yet though, so they sit a while longer, Eugene slowly rocking them back and forth. He remembers his own mother doing that motion with him as a kid, before they’d been separated, before he’d lost her-

 Varian sniffles, pulling back and wiping at his face. Eugene lets him go, only missing the warmth a little.

 “Next time,” Varian gasps wetly, his breath still hitching, “We go around the death trap, okay?” 

 Eugene laughs, tugging the kid into a proper hug, one hand coming up to ruffle rain drenched hair. He feels Varian relax against him, settling into the hug with a small sigh. Eugene feels something in him settle at the feeling of the kid safe in his arms, but doesn’t push himself too hard in trying to figure out what it is. Instead he lets himself enjoy it, squeezing the kid tight once more.

 “Sounds good,” he says. 

 >>>><<<<

 The rain only gets worse as the afternoon goes on. Eugene huffs, looking at the sky as a crack of lightning lights up the dark sky for a split second. A rumble of thunder follows soon after, long and loud in a way that makes Eugene nervous. It’s only just the start of the evening, usually Eugene would want to press ahead for at least another few hours before setting up camp, but a chance look behind him stops that idea in its tracks.

 Varian looks pathetic, to be blunt. The kid shivers in his thin hoodie, soaked to the bone. His hair’s plastered to his head by the rain, skin looking even paler than normal in the dull light; Eugene can’t help but sigh when the kid catches his stare and forces a smile with chattering teeth. 

 “Alright.” Eugene concedes, “We’re stopping for the night.” 

 Varian perks up at the sound of a break, his shoulders lifting. Eugene looks around for a second more, squinting through the rain with a frown. A little way off, maybe half a click down the street, a lone farmhouse stands. Perfect. 

 “C’mon kid.” He says, “Almost done, we’ll get something warm to eat and keep going in the morning.” 

 They trudge through the muddy remnants of the street, the cracked asphalt long since split down the middle by countless storms over the years. It’s obviously off the beaten path, though that was by Eugene’s design. Less likely to be spotted, on their current route. It’s a quick walk despite the rough terrain, and they eventually come up to the house.

 It’s obviously been abandoned for a long while. It’s a traditional looking farmhouse made of a thick stone base and wooden beams in an almost Victorian style, tall and thin with a large wraparound porch surrounding it. A majority of the windows are long since shattered, and the door’s literally missing, but it’ll do for the night. Another clap of thunder rings out, startling them both. They’ve got to get out of the rain, Varian especially with his hoodie unable to provide a lot of warmth. 

 The kid already looks half frozen, noticeably shivering even as they draw up to the farmhouse. Once on the porch, Eugene holds out a hand, gesturing to the kid to stop. Varian pauses, looking at Eugene with apprehensive confusion as the man draws his sword. 

 “Hold on,” Eugene says. “We don’t know if anyone else had the same idea as us. Just let me check everything out first, then we’ll set up shop.” 

 Varian, probably too cold to argue, simply nods and huddles under the roof of the porch. The kid seems content to have a roof over him, even if he’s still outside. Eugene sighs. He ruffles the kid’s hair before turning and disappearing into the house. Varian bats at his hand with a good-natured expression, but watches with a nervous face as Eugene vanishes into the dark.

 The house is empty inside, thankfully. Eugene’s not sure he could handle a fight right now. The inside is just as busted up as the outside, furniture rotted and floorboards warped to shit. It’s by no means five-star accommodations, but it’ll more than do for the night. He quickly finishes a sweep of the house and, deeming it safe, returns to Varian to usher the kid inside. 

 They end up sitting at the fireplace of the old homestead, probably in what was once a livingroom. There’s the old, wooden frame of a couch in there with them, a few chairs with the last of what were once pillows still clinging. It’s a big enough room, plenty of space for the two of them. Hell, Varian even manages to find them blankets from an upstairs closet, a rare enough comfort that it’s considered a treat. Soon enough they have a rudimentary base camp going in the ghost of the living room, more than enough to be comfortable for the night.

 Eugene drags the wooden frame of the couch over, so they have something to rest against for the night. He looks over to where Varian bends over the cold hearth, fiddling. The kid uses the knife Eugene had given him to crack at a piece of flint, small sparks lighting tinder quickly. Varian smiles, his face aglow with a warm, orange light. 

 Eugene flops down with a groan, rolling his shoulders. Catching Varian on the bridge had done a number on his left arm, not that Eugene would complain about it. His eyes shut of their own accord, the firelight dancing through his vision as fluttering shadows through his eyelids. Without looking he throws a hand out, searching for his bag. 

 He hears Varian snicker, and then the bag is in his hand. Eugene cracks his eye open and smiles, dragging it closer and leafing through it.

 “Alright kid, what’ll it be?” He asks. “We have a bit of the steak left, or there’s some hard-tack, the jerky, or… well that’s pretty much it, I was thinking the fish could be for tomorrow, since that’ll be the night before we Corona.” 

 Varian gnaws at his bottom lip, shifting awkwardly. Oh, right, the food thing. Eugene can’t help but sigh, considerably over whatever this issue was.

 “Okay.” Eugene huffs, exasperated. “What’s with you? You’re the only person I’ve ever met that isn’t excited at free food, even before the blackout. What’s the deal?” 

 Varian freezes a little. He looks like a rabbit caught in a trap, all darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. After a brief silence the kid snaps out of it, looking Eugene dead in the eye. He still looks nervous, but as he slouches down next to Eugene Varian begins to slowly speak.

 “When Andrew and the Saporians… uh, yeah- when they attacked Corona, I told you they pretended they needed help, right?” Eugene nods. Varian grimaces. “Yeah. So we trusted them, including the things they did to help us. We had them helping us with a lot of projects, construction mostly since they were bigger… stronger.” He pauses, thinking something though. “We didn’t know they’d been using that as a chance to rig half the town to burn on command.”

 “Oh.” 

 “Yeah. When everyone was distracted with dinner one night, they set half the town on fire to draw everyone away. I wasn’t at dinner, so Andrew uh… well he brought me some tea, said it would be good to drink something. It was uh, well it was drugged.” Varian’s face crumbles, looking devastated. The kid shakes. “I trusted him, and he tricked me. It’s how they got me out of Corona.” 

 “Oh.” 

 Varian face is drawn, sad. He shudders, though this time Eugene’s sure it’s not the cold. Varian’s arms wrap tightly around himself, the kid looking haunted as he stares unseeingly into the fire. 

 “And it’s not that I don’t- I trust you, Eugene, I do- but something about being offered food… I’m sorry.” 

 Eugene sighs. Leans back against the couch. Puzzles for a second as to what to say, before finally just deciding to wing it. He’s not great with the touchy-feely, sure, but he’s willing to try for the kid.

 “Nothing to be sorry for. It sounds like they weren’t the most gracious hosts.” He says. Varian snorts, his face splitting into a wry smile. 

 “You could say that.” 

 Eugene catches as the kid tugs at his sleeves, covering the pale-yellow remnants of bruises. Something in him pangs. 

 “You said they wanted you for… what, inventions?” 

 Varian nods. Grits his teeth.

 “Weapons.” He spits the word out like it’s bitter. “Running water. A hot air balloon. Anything Andrew wanted, I had to create it. They threatened to kill me if I didn’t, and if that wasn’t enough to motivate me then they threatened my family instead. I didn’t want to.” He looks to Eugene with a desperate eye, pleading with the man to believe him. “They gave me no choice, if I didn’t-”

 “You’re not to blame.” Eugene cuts the kid off. Varian’s mouth snaps shut with a click of teeth. He looks at Eugene like he’s insane, but keeps silent. Eugene looks at him, locking eyes in a way that dares Varian to look away. He can’t help the spark of pride when Varian doesn’t so much as flinch.

 “You’re not to blame.” He repeats. “Andrew and his cronies are. You kept yourself alive, and that’s what matters. Sometimes we make sacrifices to see another day, and that’s what it means to survive. Don’t ever feel wrong about that.” 

 “They’ve hurt so many people-” 

 “And they were going to hurt you. It’s not a crime to keep yourself in one piece.” 

 Varian sighs. He looks down and picks at the heel of his boot, leaning closer to Eugene. “Isn’t it selfish?” He asks quietly, “To put yourself ahead of other people?” 

 “It’s the way of the wastes.” Eugene shrugs. “Selfish-and-alive will always trump kind-and-dead.” 

 “Then… why did you help me?” 

 “Ah, nope, we’re not talking about me.” Eugene can’t help but tense when Varian smiles a little from the deflection. “No, shush. You’re a meal ticket.” 

 “Okay.” Varian says. He smiles wider. Shit.

 Eugene reaches in his bag again, pulling out the last of their dried meat as a distraction. “Just for that we’re eating the leather strips.” He declares, laughing when Varian splutters in protest. “Nope, you dug this hole, goggles. Time to lay in it.” 

 Varian scowls, but when Eugene quietly offers some of the rations, he takes it without question. Something in Eugene’s chest warms when he does, though he refuses to make a big deal out of it. They eat quietly in the light of the fire, Varian sniffling as the last of the cold finally leeches away from their bones. Eugene sighs at the comfort of a roof over his head, a warm fire, and a full belly, closing his eyes and leaning harder against the couch. 

 He hears a small shuffle. For a second he wants to move, shift away from whatever the hell Varian’s doing, but then the kid just ends up leaning against Eugene’s arm. He shudders again, still chilly in the evening air. Eugene sighs, and lifts his arm up. 

 Varian takes the chance, snuggling close as Eugene wraps an arm around the kid’s shoulders. 

 “Don’t get used to this.” Eugene mutters as Varian gets comfortable. “I’m only doing this because I’m cold.” 

 “Sure, Eugene.” Varian says quietly. Eugene feels small hands come up to innocently hold onto the cloth of his jacket, Varian curling into his chest.

 They sit like that for a long while, Eugene watching the fire as it burns bright in the brick hearth of the farmhouse. Varian’s a light weight at his side, small and warm and safe in a way that brings Eugene a sense of peace that permeates his whole being. Something about being a hundred percent positive that Varian’s safe and sound brings a strange air of calm to Eugene, one he hadn’t felt in years, hell in a decade. It’s a serene aura, a sense of quiet that envelops him and relaxes him down to the soul. 

 Eugene, half asleep despite the early hour, pulls the kid closer subconsciously, and lets himself drift off. 

[just-mirko]

BINARY  

BNHA HACKER AU - CHAPTER 5

MASTERLIST

Mirko x F!Reader

Warnings: i got carried away. umm a little blood. a little fighting. 

WC: 2.2k

(A/N: this one is dedicated to @sushi044123 thank you for the little message, things like that always make me wanna write more <3)

__

I went to sleep quickly. I woke up early. I slept well. The next day started fine. I made coffee and pondered over the empty desk once more. I was ignorant.

__

             I would have never suspected any change when I stepped out into the halls and began walking to class. While on my way there, I met with Mirko, who was wearing casual yoga pants and a loose tank top. Along with that was a black bomber jacket that adorned her shoulders Her long, flawless platinum hair was pulled into a long brain. Even when put up, her hair reached her waist.

             The hood of the jacket was once again, over her head, and… once again… seemed to be hiding something. Eh never mind maybe shes a catgirl. You can never really judge.

             Soon every student had congregated in the classroom. It was a stark contrast to the nice elegant theme of the main room. Instead, we were in the penthouse at the top of the large building we entered on the first day. The elegant and crisp post-sunrise glow filled the room which was almost fully surrounded glass windows. Maybe only four other skyscrapers challenged the height of the one we were in.

             I walked up to one of the windows, noticing a slight mature difference as the glass was icy cold and on the other side, was covered in a thin layer of mist. Even as someone who isn't afraid of heights, looking down at the world below which was engulfed in a thin layer of grey fog, overcame me with fear. To think that this thin layer of glass would protect me from the bustling world below.

             How strange. We were hidden from society. The outcasts who preferred to be anonymous robin hoods than gaudy and fake heroes. But with 3 of the four walls in this room window, I felt as though I was on display to the whole world. A steel pedestal specially made for all of us.

             After admiring the view, I stole a glance at Mirko. Unlike me, she didn't look at the ground below, but above, up to the clouds which we so very close. They never looked that large from the city floor.

             “Students! You’re finally here!” A chipper and high squeaky voice alerted me. My footsteps were short as I stepped back from the side of the room. The students turned to the short little mouse. Small groups had formed, mostly of 2-3 people awkwardly standing next to each other from a partial distance…

              for that one wooden guy and the blonde. They were standing pretty close-

             “You can all remove your masks now! They were a temporary thing, now that new have completely erased all traces of who you were previous to this school, you are perfectly safe from outsides and other students. As far as the world knows, you currently don't exist.”

             His sweet attitude didn’t deter me from the almost translucent threat in his voice. Hesitantly, people began to take them off and reveal their faces. After about half the classroom had removed theirs, I undid the ribbon that held it to my head and let it fall into my hand. A tingle of cool metal spread on my skin. I placed it on the ground next to my feet and glanced up at my peers.

             Most fit what I expected, they were still strangers, but now I had a chance at remembering them.

             A rush of embarrassment coursed up into my brain when I took the liberty to Look up at Mirko, I traced my gaze over her face and her perfect features while she took me in as well. Our eyes met for a second too long while I drowned in a crimson abyss. My cheeks almost flushed the same shade as her eyes. I turned away and heard her quietly chuckle:

             “cute”

             Now I was red.

             “Now that we have had time to familiarize ourselves to the minimum, I would also like to say the same for quirks!”

             Mirko’s flashed a wide grin, canines showing.

             “You are all now safe to show quirks, as that has also been cleaned from reality.”

             In my peripheral vision was a quick flash of dirty blonde. When I glanced over, Hawks turned his head away, a distant look. I didn’t look away though, and if he was as smart as he acted, he noticed. The daggers I was shooting from my eyes aimed at the briefcase in his hand.

             “So, my little criminal prodigies, though many of you are already masters in your main craft, we want to reach past those horizons-”

             He cleared his throat and redirected my attention to his short stature. With a sigh he continued;

             “Those horizons being combat, tactical, hardware engineering, and friendship! Within the combat course, we will be going over-” I felt a short soft tap on my shoulder. It was Mirko.

             “in tactical we want to utilize your current stren-”

             “Hey, pssst”

             She whispered, but when I turned to her she was still looking ahead to Nezu. Ruby eyes glowing in the ethereal morning light.

             “engineering will be taught for obvious rea-”

             Her hand brushed across mine and my heartbeat quickly spiked. The ghost of her touch remained on the back of my wrist even when she moved. Mirko’s gaze was still stagnant, but in a hushed tone she quietly mumbled,

             “This was in your jacket’s hood”

             Her knuckles bumped into mine once more, though they were more demanding, silently telling me to open my hand. There was a moment of confusion when something extremely soft was placed in my hand. It was light, and there was no weight to it. Soft and light. Closing my fingers around it, I brought it up and looked at it while I was cupped in my grasp.

             A single red feather and a tiny one as that sat in my palm; soft and warm. Hawks. Whatever emotion I was feeling numb all my other senses. Was it fear? Anger? A little confusion. There was some kind of shuffling around me that was dulled by my thoughts. Nezu probably gave the class some kind of directions, as they were talking among themselves. In short sentences and simple words. Surface level stuff.

             Across the classroom, Hawks moved to chat with a tall guy with white hair that fell over his shoulders. He seemed knowingly more anxious now. His hand was fidgeting at his side. He knew I had the feather, but he wasn’t looking at me? Could he feel through them? It would make sense, seeing as he could control them at will.

             Turning the feather in my hand I saw him physically tense up a little bit. Brushing the vane (the soft part of a feather) with one of my fingers, his hand stilled, his actions were choppy as he laughed with the other guy. Oh, he knew what I was doing. I dropped it to the ground and turned to Mirko, a little smile on my face, she had one too. I was about to talk about the feather with her when she shot me a knowing look and a curt shake of her head.

             “What are we doing again?” I sheepishly asked, having zoned out the whole assembly.

             “Pairing up for combat assessments, you're with me.” She playfully nudged my shoulder when I groaned, annoyed.

             When I looked down at my shoes distraughtly I could see the little feather blowing softly away from me in Hawk’s direction. For good measure I stepped on it and crushed it beneath my feet, relishing in the wince I could see him make as he as stretching for warm-ups.

             Mirko at the least seemed amused at what I was doing with Hawks but still wanted to begin training. She was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

             “So basically, we get five minutes to spar with any technique we want, no biting, clawing, hair pulling, dirty plays- and then we fight there.”

             She motioned over her shoulder to black mats in the center of the room. The borderline feral look in her eyes makes me feel way to arou-scared to fight her. (Woah there Clarissa this is a family-friendly account).

             “Wait are you s-serious? Fight each other?” I stumbled out. She was a foot taller than me and more fit.

             “Aww c’mon, I’ll go easy on you, whoever is immobile first wins?”

             “I guess.”

             ‘You can do this (y/n)’ I had to say to myself, though it wasn’t that convincing. I've done kickboxing before, so I readied myself into a prep stance. My legs were a little farther apart than my shoulders, and my hands were loose fists in front of my torse. I instinctively bent my knees and began swaying a little to prepare. I wasn’t going to throw the first fight.

             Mirko was turned around, removing her jacket to reveal toned arms that flexed as she placed it on the ground. I gulped.

             “Are you ready Bunny?” She inquired, calmly, even relaxed.

             “Whenever you are” I replied with confidence. I can do this.

             Her hand reached up to the beanie that was sat atop her head. Before touching it though she looked over her shoulder to stare me down. “Are quirks on the table?”

             This was a variable I hadn’t expected, but I wasn’t going to let that phase me.

             “Bet.” I softly smiled and she aggressively smirked.

             “Okay Bunny,” She paused, turning towards me and throwing the hat to the ground,

             “Lets fight”

             Ears sprang up from her perfect hair and she lunged at me with incredible power, her leg aimed right towards my torso. I was shocked by the ears. A rabbit quirk? I didn’t have time to think when she landed a solid kick on the side of my hip.

             Ouch

             Her style of fighting was low and she probably intended to wipe me out, so I would have to aim for her upper body to counter.

             “Oh shiiii-” I quickly dodged to the left, using my arm to block her leg and push it the other direction.

             I tried to get closer and close the gap as she seemed like a mid-distance fighter. Ducking under her swinging leg that was in a circular high kick I tried knocking her to the ground with a punch to her shoulder, that should send her off balance, but she caught my hand and kicked out the back of my legs. My knees hit the floor and I was temporarily stunned. I recovered with a quick little roll the hopped up.

             I faked out a right hook and grabbed her blocking arm, and attempted to get her in a headlock. She was ahead of me though. Once I tried to wrap my arm about her neck-

             A firm grasp settled on my wrist and pried back my hand at an excruciatingly painful angle. I hissed through my teeth and let go, holding my hand which was sharply stinging with pain. A little bit harder and I would have tapped out and forfeited the match.

              Just as I looked back up to attempt to cut my losses and aim for her head, she was running towards me. My legs were thrown out from beneath me and the breath was knocked out of my lungs, making breathing difficult. She sat on my stomach, effectively weighing me down, I couldn't get up anymore. I blindly swung a punch, hoping it would hit something that would give me leverage.

             My fist connected with her upper lip. She didn’t budge from above me though, in fact, she pressed down harder as she sat on my stomach. Each breathe getting more and more labored.

              She pinned me to the ground, one hand holding my arms above me, the other reaching up towards her lip. Red came back on her fingers.

             “Fuck (y/n) that hurt like a bitch.”

             Her grip on my hands tightened to a bruising hold that pushed my wrists together and dug them into the sparring mat. The previous sprain I suffered roared by to life and a groan resonated in my chest. That drew a dry laugh from her, obviously it was painful though. Her hand slammed next to my head, lowering herself a little closer to me. We were both tired and panting. My entire back was throbbing from being so aggressively pushed to the ground.

             She gazed at my face with indistinguishable emotion. Her teeth were barred in a mix between a grimace and a smile. The blood that was smeared beneath her mouth where I had injured her; the red blood matched her wild eyes.

“I win,” She said quietly...

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 26 - Away From the Maddening Crowd

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

NOTE: Again I have let Genshin Impact to consume my soul so I updated this on Tumblr a bit late sorry!!!

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ here is the latest update

Away From the Maddening Crowd

…

…

[Aura:

1. A form of spiritual energy described as the essence of every living creature.

2. There were humans who could sense Aura and control its power. These humans were known as Aura Guardians and they traveled around doing good deeds and passing on their skills to those who also possessed this innate ability. However, they also disappeared from history, for some undisclosed reason.]

…

…

In the early morning, you head to the cemetery to find Ezra, only to discover it is empty and the stone steps to the mausoleum have been destroyed.

Whilst you wonder what could have happened, a note weighed down by a rock near the abandoned mausoleum is your clue and you peel it off, scanning the contents. It’s been written in Ezra’s messy handwriting and it says:

[I’m on a case and have gone out to do some investigation. Be back soon.]

“I hope he's okay,” you utter under your breath as you pocket the note; it occurs to you that you don't worry about Ezra often unless it's to do with his general wellbeing and health. He's never bothered you with his own missions and you don't doubt his proficiency in handling evil spirits.

You had wanted to ask him about Gossamer Cave but it looks like you’re on your own for the time being so you return home where Magnolia has some nice, piping hot breakfast waiting for you when you announce your return. You will also be going shopping with Sonia later to find a dress for the party Leon invited you to.

At the table, you sit with various atlases and maps in front of you, along with your laptop propped open as you drink your soup and munch on toast.

“What are you doing?” Sonia asks, as you bury yourself nose-deep in a book.

“Ezra took me to a place called Gossamer Cave in the Wild Area several years ago, I can’t seem to find it anywhere on any maps.”

“I don’t recall there being a place called Gossamer Cave in the Wild Area,” she replies as she casually spreads some cheri berry jam over her toast with the knife. “Why are you looking for it?”

“Never mind,” you utter quickly, “it’s probably changed names or something.”

Strange thing is, none of these atlases or maps show any caves or sinkholes within the Dusty Bowl area at all.

Frustrated, you put down your work to focus on your breakfast, though today’s newspaper headline becomes your next highlight.

The front page is covered with content about Flora’s murder. You read all about it: her mother has been found guilty to manslaughter. Hank has been released, and Frankie will be returning to boarding school...though you didn’t receive any further follow-up from her.

A section concerning Leon’s upcoming match with Volkner is also squashed beside the article. You skim through it and turn to the next page, spotting a large photo of Leon so you grab some scissors and snip it out carefully.

Sonia giggles as you slip the photo into your journal. You’ve begun a small collection to show unwavering support for your boyfriend, cutting out any articles or photos about him from all sorts of magazines or newspapers you come across.

You’re certain his mum and Hop do the same so it’ll be interesting to share what you have collected in the future.

Meanwhile, Magnolia wanders around the kitchen, asking, “Has anyone seen Sunkern and Cutiefly?” She’s checking the cupboards and under the table. “Sunkern? Cutiefly? Where are you?"

“Did you check the conservatory?” Sonia asks.

“I already did, they’re not there.”

“Where was the last place you saw them?” you ask.

“I left them playing together over there,” Magnolia replies in confusion, gesturing to a potted plant near one of the windows, “and now they’re gone.”

You and Sonia leave your seats to assist the professor with the search but unfortunately have no luck locating the two pokemon and Magnolia gives up for the time being. Maybe they have managed to bounce off somewhere to play and will return later. The pokemon have gone off to play before.

“Sunkern, Cutiefly, are you upstairs?” Magnolia can be heard as she disappears up the staircase.

After breakfast, you and Sonia get ready to go out until the doorbell rings and Runerigus stops washing the dishes to float over, opening the door.

“Oh, hello there, sir!” exclaims a cheerful voice and both you and Sonia leave the room and into the landing, peering over the railing to see Leon’s mum at the doorstep with Hop and Wooloo by her side. “I’m looking for…”

She says your name and you and Sonia exchange glances before quickly heading down the stairs and Leon’s mum spots you; she smiles widely at your arrival, waving cheerily and Runerigus hops backwards to give you more space.

“Hello my dears!” Leon’s mum greets you two, “how are you?”

“We’re fine, thank you.”

After the pleasantries and small talk are over, she says, “I have a favour to ask you-“

“Muuuuum,” Hop whines in the background as she grabs him and steers him towards your direction, smiling widely.

“Can you please look after my Hip-Hop whilst I take the grandparents to the community centre?”

“Mum, I’m old enough to look after myself,” Hop wails, only to be ignored.

“Sure, Sonia and I were going to go out shopping so Hop can join us."

Hop’s eyes brighten up at once. “You are? Where are you going?”

“Wyndon Shopping Centre,” Sonia replies.

“Take me with you!” Hop abruptly yells, pumping his fists into the air and Wooloo bleating happily beside him.

Leon’s mum claps her hands together with glee. “Excellent, I’ll leave Anthony Hop-kins in your care then.”

“Muuuuum!” Hop wails in horror, his face reddening whilst you and Sonia giggle.

“Goodbye!” she says after pecking Hop on the cheek and ruffling his hair, before she dashes to their car which is parked in the front lawn near the bench. It resembles a Charizard. “Have fun, Hop! I’ll be back to pick you up by five!”

“Okay, bye mum!”

You watch as she steers the car out and onto the main road, chugging out of sight in minutes.

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with us,” Sonia says, and Hop turns round to you with a grin, folding his arms behind his head.

Hop nods. “Are we going now?”

“Yep!”

“Awesome!”

You quickly don your shoes whilst Sonia fetches her car keys; she will be driving you to the shopping centre. Magnolia sees you off and you’re about to enter the car when a stone smacks into the door from out of nowhere, just inches from the handle and promptly drops to the ground.

A look of annoyance crosses Sonia’s face at once as the stone rolls close to her feet and she looks up and around. “Hey! Who did that?! Who’s there?”

Another stone is tossed at the car, this time, aimed at one of the lights and your group turns round to see a little boy emerging from one of the bushes close to the house with a pile of stones in his hand.

“Witch!” he yells, pointing at you accusingly.

You remember this youngster; he was part of the trio who had ambushed you outside the lab the night when Leon had gifted you the flowers. You had spared him (although you thought your pokemon had taught him a lesson but it seems unlikely) and now he’s back with a vengeance.

“Hey, what gives, Johnny?!” Hop yells furiously, before he rolls the sleeves of his coat higher over his arms and promptly marches over.

Johnny? Must be a classmate of Hop’s.

“Hop, wait-“ Sonia says, but Hop’s almost nose-to-nose with the smarmy-looking kid.

“Shut up, Helmet Hair!!!” the boy yells; it dawns to you that this child and Hop are potentially the same age, being almost the same height and all.

“H-helmet hair?” Hop croaks out, wide-eyed.

“Hop, ignore him, let’s just go,” you mutter, but he shakes his head rigorously.

“No way! I’m defending your honor!” Hop yells. “Leave her alone! What she’d ever do to you?”

“My mum and dad says she’s an evil witch and must be destroyed! Anyone helping her must be destroyed too!”

“What?!” Hop and Sonia exclaim in unison.

“Go Spearow!” yells the kid; he tosses a pokeball into the air to reveal a small but familiar and rather mean-looking bird who flaps its short wings in the air before it quickly zooms towards Hop and Wooloo. “Quick Attack!”

“Dodge it, Wooloo!” Hop yells, and Wooloo acknowledges the instruction with a bleat and rolls to the left, successfully evading the assault. Hop scurries to the side, taking an offensive stance and placing some distance between him and his opponent.

A mini battle is taking place; Hop’s skills are impressive as he coordinates with his pokemon and swiftly instructs Wooloo to attack. You and Sonia quickly rush to a safe spot to observe with Sonia actively cheering for him.

“Go Hop, go!” she exclaims, and Hop tells Wooloo to counterattack with a Tackle.

The Spearow avoids by flying to the right and responds with a Peck attack. Wooloo cries out, squeezing its eyes shut as the bird pecks at its head aggressively.

“Wooloo, no!” Hop yelps, as the sheep struggles.

“Spearow, finish it off with a Fury Attack!”

“Not on my watch!” Hop shouts, “Wooloo, use Defense Curl!”

The sheep abruptly rolls into a tight ball and Spearow’s attack bounces off its large and fluffy hide, reducing the attack to nothingness.

“Now use Tackle!” Hop instructs and Wooloo springs out of its curled form to rapidly ram itself against the bird that had come too close for comfort.

Wooloo successfully knocks out the rampaging Spearow and it flops to the ground, out cold and unmoving. It was a critical hit!

“Well done, Hop!” you and Sonia cheer, whooping loudly whilst the punk kid named Johnny growls under his breath and returns his fainted pokemon into its capsule.

“Y-you’ll pay for this!” he yells before he rapidly spins on his heel and sprints down the path and out of sight.

“I won!” Hop cheers and everyone exchanges high fives when he rushes up to you happily. “That was sooooo awesome! And Wooloo!!! You were amazing!”

He picks up the sheep and throws her around in the air and in circles. Wooloo bleats loudly in response and they both share an embrace.

“Hey, he didn’t give you any prize money,” you pipe up.

“Eh, it’s fine.”

“Alright, shall we go? We’re running late,” Sonia says, nudging her head to the car and opening the door; Hops scrabbles into the backseat with his pokemon.

“Come on, let’s go!!” Sonia honks the horn whilst Hop pokes his head out of the window.

“Yeah!!! Let’s goooo!” he echoes loudly.

“Coming,” you reply.

…

When the car has left and is out of sight, a pokemon emerges from its hiding place in the shadows.

It had been watching your group the entire time before it stares at the direction where the boy had run off to. It had wanted to follow you, but it cannot pass up on this opportunity.

Hovering in the air, it floats silently towards the boy’s direction with a smirk, having found its prey.

…

Sonia’s brought you to a boutique which is immensely popular and trending in Galarian Chatot and so the shopping excursion begins. Hops lags behind with his arms folded behind his back, glancing around inquisitively.

“Well, what do you think?” she says with a cheery smile plastered on her face.

“It’s so bright and shiny here,” Hop remarks with a groan.

“It’s huge,” you blurt out, glancing around.

“Yep!! Let’s begin!”

The store is beautiful, with décor out of a fairytale book or a princess castle. With pale pink walls adorned with lacy drapes and fake roses, plush white rugs and plastic models of fairy pokemon standing beside mannequins, saleswomen and men dressed in exceptionally smart suits and skirts rush to the aid of their well-off patrons whilst you and Sonia head unnoticed to the dress section.

You had told Sonia you were wanting to wear something red (but not as flashy as the Miss Motostoke dresses) so she quickly locates where all the dresses of a variety of plum, crimson or scarlet shades have been grouped together.

Bored, Hop sits down on the plushy ottoman provided and Sonia begins rifling through one of the racks. You’re not sure where to begin exactly so you start at the opposite side and browse on your own.

Recalling Leon’s outfit in your mind, you hope to find something suitable but all you come across are styles that are simply too girly, too lacy, too short, too long, too pink or too purple or too peachy for your liking.

“Here, try this one,” Sonia approaches you with several dresses protected by plastic covers looped over one arm. “This one too.”

She hands you two dresses.

“And this one.”

A third is placed under your care.

She lifts up a fourth; it’s scarlet and full of ruffles. “Hmm, not this one. Let me put it back…”

A saleswoman rushes over to help you out. “Let me get those for you, madam…” she says, scooping them out of your hands.

“Thank you.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Nope! We’re good,” Sonia says, returning to your side, “here, you should try these on.”

The dressing rooms are an equally pink abomination, with thick white drapes and an abundance of fake roses sewn over them. Sonia squeals with glee and takes several selfies with the curtains whilst Hop and Wooloo sit down on the white leather couch in front of your cubicle.

“You okay, Hop?” you ask, and he nods. “Are you hungry?”

“Not yet.”

“We’ll get something to eat afterwards.”

“Okay,” he replies, before he grins widely at you. “I am kinda thirsty though.”

You remember there was a smoothie bar outside the shop and you fish some money out of your pocket, handing it to him. “Here, get yourself something to drink.”

He blinks his golden eyes before his cheeks turn pink. “Oh, um, I-I shouldn’t…mum says I shouldn’t-“

“It’s okay, Hop, go ahead.”

He grins widely at you in response. “Thanks, mate!”

You smile and watch as he sprints off, then you disappear into the cubicle and pull the curtain back, lifting up one of the dresses to eye level. Sonia has chosen an exquisite one-shoulder cardinal red dress. You hurriedly slip out of your clothes and slip it on, the silky material slinking over your belly and hips.

“Wow,” you cannot help but croak out; you’ve never worn anything so fancy before in your life.

As you stand in front of the mirror, you hear Sonia saying, “So? How is it? Let me see!”

“Okay, hold on,” you murmur, before you pull the curtain back.

Sonia is lounging lazily and sits up properly once you appear; Sonia lets out a gasp of awe, her eyes lighting up. “You look great!!”

“…I’m not sure about this one. Let me try on the next one.”

Disappearing inside the cubicle for a second time, you shimmy out of the dress and put the next one on; outside and you can hear Hop returning.

“Hey, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing much,” Sonia replies with a giggle, and you pull the curtain back, stepping outside.

Hop is sipping on a large smoothie and he looks at you up and down.

“What’d you guys think?” you ask.

“I like it!” Sonia exclaims.

“Are you sure? Something doesn’t feel right,” you utter. “Hop?”

He puts a hand under his chin. “I agree. It’s not Lee’s style’s either.”

“Exactly. Too lacy, I think.”

With that, you pull the curtain and step out of the dress as carefully as you can, hang it back up properly and grab the next one in the queue. It’s mulberry red and off-the-shoulder. You also show Sonia and Hop for their opinions. On this occasion, Sonia dislikes it but Hop shows a thumbs up.

You’re also personally not too keen on this one either so you move onto the next dress. The next one is cinnamon rose, A-line and asymmetrical and the moment you don it, you stare at your reflection and realise it’s perfect; this is it.

This is the one.

Pushing the curtain apart for the final time, Sonia and Hop rise from their seats to gawp as you stand before them with a grin.

“It’s this one,” you say, “I’ll take this one.”

…

It's the day of Leon’s battle with Volkner, and the entire Galar region is abuzz with anticipation.

The TV blasts adverts about the match, informing people to get their hands on tickets as soon as they can as it is the ‘match of the century’ (despite all tickets being sold out six months prior). Convenience stores begin selling Leon and Volkner merchandise. Their faces are slapped everywhere you look – on milk cartons, train tickets, billboards and posters. Everyone’s celebrating.

You realise it’s rather nice to be part of something as important as this, as you queue in the stadium with your VIP pass in hands.

Prior and you did tell Volkner that you had given your ticket to Jace since you already possessed a Wyndon Annual Pass. Your seat for the match is front row, in a block on Leon’s side, which is considered one of the best seats of the entire stadium. Leon had really gone all out to ensure you would be able to get a good view.

The party begins two hours or so after the match, and you aren’t sure if that gives Leon enough downtime but you presume he must be used to this kind of busy schedule.

You’re rather excited; you had purchased a pair of matching shoes and some accessories, namely a white corsage that will go with Leon’s outfit.

Everything’s going as you had planned.

“This is so exciting!” Jace exclaims as he waits beside you, holding a large box that’s carrying a carton of popcorn and a massive drink within. Joltik sits on his shoulder, with some kernels stuck to his fuzzy body and legs. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to actually go in the stadium as a spectator! And we’re watching a match together!!!”

He proceeds to whip out a glittery blue and yellow sign that says “Volkner #1”. He’s not alone, you see a large group of Volkner fans up ahead, chatting loudly and wearing Luxray hats; they can be heard animatedly discussing his strategies and his pokemon. Meanwhile, Leon fans wearing copies of his signature snapback and Charizard hats pass by, holding up signs that says ‘Leon #1’.

“I’m sorry, chuck, but I gotta cheer for Volkner, ya know?” he says.

“It’s fine, I’m going to be cheering for Leon.”

Jace scoffs whilst you crack a grin. “I don’t think we’ve hung out like this before, not for a long time anyway,” he says, before he scratches the back of his head. “…Actually, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“Volkner asked me if I wanted to work in his gym. He tried to get me a position a few years ago but I had moved to Galar by then,” he says quietly, and somehow you’re not liking where this conversation is leading.

“Are you leaving, Jace?” you ask.

Jace blinks blankly, before he nods.

“……..Oh,” you squeak out.

The stadium grows quiet.

The screaming fans, the chatter, the music in the background, the flashing videos….

None of those seems to matter to you anymore.

“Chuck?” he nudges you by the shoulder, “don’t worry, I’m not leaving immediately…so cheer up and let’s enjoy the match!”

The doors open and security begin to allow patrons to enter, causing many fans up ahead to scream and shout and the line begins to move quickly.

You breeze through security who checks your bag and you’re allowed in. Inside, fans can be seen running around with their friends and families and pokemon whilst stadium assistants divert lost fans to their seats.

With Jace, you find your block and navigate to your seat; the stadium is already alit with chanting fans and music from the massive TV screen that’s blaring various Macro Cosmos adverts. Very soon, the remainder of the seats soon begin to fill up and you are surrounded by thousands of adoring fans.

Jace swaps seats with the person beside you so you can be seated together and soon, the stadium lights go off and the crowd goes wild as a swirl of lights form on the pitch from the ceiling flicker on and circle wildly before a blond man with a moustache donned in a white and black football jersey arrives, cruising on his Aegislash.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Wyndon Stadium! My name is Dan and I will be your host today!!!”

The crowd erupts into cheers as he continues to introduce and outline the match before he gestures towards your direction.

“Welcome to the annual Galar-Sinnoh exhibition match! Today, we have Leon, our beloved Champion of Galar, who will be representing Galar’s finest trainers! Tonight, his opponent will be Volkner, who has come all the way from Sunyshore City, representing Sinnoh’s very best!” Dan introduces. “Please put your hands together to give a very warm welcome to Galar’s very best, the one and only….LEON!”

The stadium is booming with cheering and applause as Leon appears; you see his face shown on the TV screen as he strides onto the pitch, waving to the crowd. You can hear lots of high-pitched screaming.

“And now, please welcome the ultra-charismatic, the cool and collected, electrifying VOLKNER!!!!!”

At the opposite end, Volkner appears. He looks calm despite the sheer madness. The boisterous cheers and applause do not stop as the Champion strolls towards the middle of the pitch, ready to meet Volkner. You feel strange towards Volkner now, knowing that he’s offered Jace a job.

You’re happy for Jace, but this means he will be leaving Galar…

“Leon Leon Leon!” chants a row of girls nearer the back, and they break you out of your thoughts; they’re holding massive signs with Leon’s face on it, decorated with little lights and cardboard lovehearts.

“LEON!” someone screams in another block, “LEON, FUCKING MARRY ME! AND HAVE MY FUCKING BABIES!”

“LEEEEEEOOOOOOOONNNNN!” another fan roars, as though they are imitating a slow-motion reel.

You cannot tell if Leon can hear his loyal fans shrieking though he does look up and around with a smile as the camera flashes and the cameras roll from all over.

He offers a little wave and the audience goes wild.

You hold your breath as Leon and Volkner are finally within vicinity of one another, and they shake hands.

They exchange some words which you cannot hear due to being too far away, but when both turn round, Leon spots you in the crowd and grins.

You smile in response and wave.

Dan steers his Aegislash between the two contestants, holding up two flags – one black and one white. With a blow of the whistle, he raises his arms, the flags in the air.

“Match, begin!”

….

It’s time for the party.

The match is over.

Volkner lost.

You leave the stadium, hoping to get the chance to see or speak to Leon but from his forced smile and the slightest drop of his shoulders which he quickly corrects before anyone catches on, you can tell how exhausted he is and as he enters the corridor and out of sight, you see a group of reporters and their camera men trailing after him, shouting and yelling over each other, desperate for post-battle interviews and photos.

Leon is shortly followed by Chairman Rose and Oleana and they’re also surrounded by the paparazzi, but they ignore the group and venture off to where Leon had disappeared.

It’s not the appropriate time to see or speak to him. You will meet him at the party so you and Jace leave the stadium together before splitting up; you have to get ready for the upcoming party now and will find another time to catch up properly.

With Sonia’s help, you leave the house once you’re ready and take a Corviknight taxi to the Rose of the Rondelands where the party is taking place, arriving at reception just in time.

You find your name on the list, sign your name on the book and hand it back to the staff, who in turn, provide you with a black leathery mask.

“What’s this for?” you murmur.

“It’s for all the guests. Optional, of course, but part of the mystery and intrigue,” says the concierge, grinning.

“Cool.”

With the mask in hands, you lift it up and over your eyes, then tie the straps securely over the back of your head.

A set of double doors manned by two smart-looking gentlemen in suits is your next destination and as you approach them, they open the doors for you and you step inside where a large and grandiose hall awaits you.

The interior is simply breathtaking, painted a crisp white and covered with classical antique paintings framed in gold of all shapes and sizes. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceilings, casting little pearls of glittery light on the rich lush rugs under your feet. You stop to stare, soaking in the view with awe.

The hall is alit with the gentle chatter from the guests within and as you look around, no-one pays attention to your presence. Half of the guests are also wearing their masks, mostly the women. There is no-one here you recognize, mask or not, and you certainly blend in with no qualms.

A live orchestra plays in the corner, an ethereal but seductive melody emitting from their instruments. A few waiters and waitresses weave past you, asking if you are interested in champagne and canapes. You help yourself to several questionable-looking snacks that apparently costs four to five figures per piece and as you chew and swallow, your mouth is alive with unique flavors and tastes you have never experienced before.

It’s simply the best thing you have ever tasted; the food is exquisite.

Begrudgingly, you admit that Rose knows how to take care of guests.

As you ponder where Leon is, you scour for him silently until you spot a very handsome man standing behind the balustrade of the grand staircase at the far end of the hall; it’s none other than Leon and he’s dressed in the red outfit he had shown you the other day with his long hair neatly brushed and tied into a ponytail with a ribbon, a black mask securely fitted over his golden eyes.

You take a moment to admire how ravishing he looks, until he shifts to address a guest and you see an individual to his left; he’s not alone.

Miss Galar stands beside him…

…wearing a red dress.

There are other guests donned in crimson of course, but as you cautiously throw a quick glimpse to yourself, it occurs to you that you are both wearing a dress that are of similar shade. Against your control, you flit your gaze to her again to scrutinize her clothing; her dress is obviously far more expensive and shinier than yours.

You tilt your head to the side, feeling somewhat challenged somehow, and it’s an unfamiliar sensation to you; all in all, you wished she wasn’t wearing red either.

Leon finishes speaking to his group and he averts his gaze to the great hall; his eyes wanders the hall until he spots you looking up at his direction and your gazes meet. He studies you quietly, subjecting you to a sweeping look from head to toe and you hold your breath as the world shifts; everything seems to grind to a stop and time appears to have slowed down. Every individual in the hall dissolves into the background, grouping together into undecipherable blobs and blending with the walls, disappearing one by one, until it’s just you and Leon.

He stares at you for a long time, before he grins.

And he departs from his group, excusing himself politely, though Miss Galar looks like she wants to follow him.

He’s heading towards your direction and your heart flutters with anticipation; you watch as Leon strolls down the stairs, his eyes on you only.

However, the live orchestra crawls to a stop and a bright spotlight suddenly shines on Leon as he reaches the last step, effectively halting him in his tracks. The rest of the lights in the hall also disappear in a split second, bathing you and the remainder of the guests in darkness.

Leon throws his glimpse over his shoulder to see Rose standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a sleek and shiny black tuxedo.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, and the conversation dies down and the hall gradually simmers into silence as Rose makes his way down the stairs.

Talk about making a dramatic entrance, you think, as Rose thanks everyone for attending the party and goes on about something you don’t exactly care about.

He has Leon stuck under the spotlight and Leon has no choice but to smile at the guests.

Rose finally joins Leon’s side; they talk for a brief moment about the League, the exhibition match and Galar’s energy plant and some deal they had signed with Sinnoh’s Sunyshore gym. The guests applause and a toast is raised.

With all the formalities over, Roses smiles widely and holds an arm out, “Very good. Now let’s start this wonderful evening with a dance; our beloved Champion and our wonderful Miss Galar.”

Leon grows still; the mask does not cover the acute surprise evidence on his face.

Rose snaps his fingers, the conductor taps his baton and the first violins begin with a vibrant but complicated, fast opening before the rest of the orchestra joins in, playing a romantic waltz.

The guests begin to murmur to one another as Miss Galar smiles and heads for Leon’s direction; she gracefully steps down the stairs and as she appears by his side, Leon looks at you, then at Miss Galar.

She’s waiting.

You slide your gaze to the floor, dejected.

First dance or not, you had hoped you would be the one dancing with Leon, not her.

Miss Galar performs a curtsy, clutching the flimsy material of her dress in hands as she crosses one leg over the other and Leon bows, closing his eyes with one gloved hand on his chest and the other behind his back. He throws one look at Rose, who smiles widely at him in response.

Miss Galar giggles as Leon offers her his arm and they both head to the dancefloor; the crowd dissipates for them to allow them through and once situated in the middle, he slides a hand over her waist and she eagerly slips her hand into his and in tune to the music, they start dancing.

You watch the scene limply from your little spot until a tall man steps in front of you and blocks your view. You make no effort to move to a new place for a better view and head for the tables.

Leon and Miss Galar are soon joined by other guests and the ballroom becomes full with waltzing couples whilst the remaining guests stand, watching.

There is no intention for the waltz to stop anytime soon so you find an empty seat and sit down.

This really wasn’t what you had in mind for the party.

A waiter saunters up to you with a tray of champagne glasses. “Would you like some blanc de noirs, madam?”

“Yes, please,” you utter, even though you have no clue what blanc de noirs actually is, and you help yourself to a flute glass, tipping the rim to your mouth and downing a sip.

It burns the back of your throat but you welcome it and suddenly, a familiar voice says, “May I have this dance?”

You look up to see a familiar blond man before you. He’s dressed in a dark, navy blue suit with a matching gold, paisley pattern tie. “Volkner?”

“Good evening,” he murmurs, before he switches to a more informal tone, “Well. Shall we?”

“I’m not very good at dancing.”

“That’s not a problem for me.”

You smile at him in response as he holds his hand out to you. You debate whether it’s right to be dancing with another man, but it’ll be rude to refuse also so you take his hand and you both head for the dancefloor where the lights are brighter, and the couples are actually dancing faster than you realized.

It’s too late to back down now, as Volkner stands before you, slipping his hand around your waist and holding your other hand with his firmly. He leads and you’re a little stunned at how easily he guides you around the floor beside the other couples. You do your best to step in tune to the music from your practice with Leon, determined not to mess it up.

“I’m sorry about the loss,” you say.

“It’s fine, I’ll just have to try harder next time,” Volkner remarks.

“You were so close; one more move and Charizard would’ve been KO’d.”

“Indeed.”

You aren’t sure whether to mention to him that you’re aware he offered Jace a job but before you can get the chance to mention it, the beat of the music alters slightly and the women begin to twirl.

“Wait, what’s going on-“ you begin, but Volkner helps you spin a circle and back. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

You’re somehow close to Leon and Miss Galar from the twirling maneuver that shifts you closer to them than you would have anticipated, and Leon notices your presences immediately.

Leon’s eyes widens and in mid-dance, he twists his head round to stare.

“Leon, what’s wrong?” asks Miss Galar, but he doesn’t reply.

Volkner flicks his glance over to the astounded Champion whose gaze is pinned on your form, and smirks.

“What is it?” you ask, oblivious, but when the music changes again, Volkner twirls you in a circle in tune to the music and on this occasion, his hand leaves your waist altogether. He steps backwards and you say, “What’s going on?”

“We’re changing partners.”

And on cue, a young woman in a pale dusty blue dress twirls towards him whilst her partner steps towards your direction.

You weren’t aware of this arrangement and your new temporary partner offers his hand; you have no choice but to participate in this group dance and the music isn’t stopping.

From this, you learn two things – firstly, the women are required to spin twice with their partners before they swap. Obviously you and Volkner joined halfway in which is why you danced for such a short time with him. Second, and that being said, Miss Galar had hogged Leon all to herself for numerous twirls.

Either way, if that was deliberate or not, perhaps they are an exclusive pair or weren’t supposed to change partners or something…you’re not sure but either way, after your third or fourth partner, you see Volkner with his current dance partner making his way up to Leon and Miss Galar and you recognize the buildup of the song that indicates it’s time to twirl and change partner once again, your current partner spins you around and you wonder who your next partner is.

It’s probably that guy with the mousy brown hair who has started to eye you up from the side – but you’re finally free as your partner lets go, slides away and someone grasps your hand gently and a grip settles on your waist; you’re twirled round and into someone’s arms but this time, your partner curls his hand around you in a rather intimate manner which neither of your previous dance partners had done before and he pulls you close and against his chest, your faces millimetres away.

Looking up, your eyes widen when you realise who it is.

“Leon!” you exclaim, your lips spreading into a wide smile.

The Champion answers you with a wink.

From the corner of your eye, you see a rather confused Miss Galar being grabbed by Volkner before he spins her into his arms.

The music starts up once more and with your hand tightly with his, Leon guides you around the dancefloor; your heart speeds up and you cannot stop smiling. His gaze never leaves you. This must be a dream, but an affectionate squeeze on your waist tells you otherwise.

Up ahead, and there is a rather wide opening within the circle of observers. Leon’s brows quirk up and he nudges his head to the opening which you spot as well. And as you turn, he expertly whisks you away from the rest of the dancers and into the crowd.

They are too busy to notice so you both slip unnoticed and Leon relinquishes his hold on your waist, your hands looped tightly together.

Away from the maddening crowd, you and Leon make your way out of the great hall and towards the large set of double doors that are now unmanned.

They lead to the garden and you both slip outside into the night, grinning widely; the Rondeland's garden is equally impressive as the great hall, with a huge stretch of grassy land filled with multicoloured flowers, lit up by lanterns strategically placed from one another to provide a dimly lit setting.

A large but impressive, neatly-trimmed hedge maze and a massive fountain stands in front of the steps where Goldeens and Seakings made out of stone leap and frolic in the air, water bubbling out from their mouths. The gurgling flow of rushing fresh water is accompanied with the vibrant buzzing of several wild bug pokemon that flutter past.

Stopping in front of the fountain, you’re panting as you both turn to each other; your eyes meet for a second time and Leon’s grin widens as you proceed to lunge towards him, pouncing onto his chest and throwing your arms around his shoulders.

He bundles you up immediately, pressing you hard against his chest as he comfortably encircles his arms around your waist and buries his nose into your neck. You laugh as his hair tickles the curve of your cheek and Leon picks you up and off the ground an inch or so to spin you around in a small circle before settling you back onto your feet.

He's grinning widely from ear to ear, looking at you up and down and soaking in the sight.

"You look lovely," he murmurs.

"Thank you," you reply shyly, your cheeks feeling warm as you reach up to fiddle with the hem of his white cravat absent-mindedly. He watches your actions with interest as you utter, "And you look very dashing tonight, sir Champion. You really suit the colour red."

Leon chuckles as you silently preen him and gently sweep away some of his long hair. You dust and brush your hands over his broad shoulders before you run your fingertips over the impressive black lining and stitches of his coat and the gold buttons.

Before you pull away, he catches your hand with his, lifting your knuckles to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss over your skin. You blush heavily in response as he nudges his head towards the garden with a smile.

"Shall we go for a walk?"

With a nod, you're both grinning widely as you loop your arms together and proceed to walk down the steps and towards the fountain.

"What if someone notices you're missing?"

The music from the grand hall is growing fainter as you stroll further into the garden with the Champion by your side but it doesn't appear to be stopping anytime soon.

Therefore, Leon shakes his head and says, "No, they'll be dancing for another hour or so."

"What if someone sees us?"

"Then I'll introduce you," he replies. "Did you find anything else about Gossamer Cave?"

"Unfortunately, no. I went to find Ezra this morning but he'd gone to work on a case."

”I was thinking,” Leon says, “you said you saw a shiny Lucario in the cave.”

”Yeah.”

”Lucario are known as the aura Pokemon. They also hold powers no ordinary humans possess. Do you think that’s what Ezra could have meant?”

You pause slightly, before turning to him with a smile. “Leon!” you utter, “what a brilliant observation.”

He blushes, cheeks growing red. “Ah, well... I wanted to help so I looked up as much information as I could find for you.”

“Thank you.”

You're halfway through the garden, venturing down the path which is lined with professionally-clipped hedges fashioned into Roselias and Roserades and you arrive at a small clearing with a pond and you leave Leon's side to hop onto a rock and despite your high heels, you carefully step over them, maintaining your balance by holding your arms out. A Goldeen and Barboach lurking within the murky depths look up at you for a split second or so before quickly zipping away from the surface to hide within some tall reeds, leaving behind shimmering ripples in the water under the moonlight.

Leon promptly comes scurrying after you with his arms out. "Be careful," he says as he grabs your hand; you neatly finish one lap and hop off and into his awaiting arms with a grin.

He gives you a lopsided smile in return and you're suddenly aware of how close you are standing together and he hasn't looked away from you.

"I missed you," you murmur.

"Me too," he replies.

He holds your gaze and you daren't look away; his honeyed eyes pinned onto your form. It's quiet now, the faint music emitting from the hall has slowly ebbed away into nothingness as you and Leon stand close and all you can hear is your beating heart. He takes one step closer and gently cups your face with one hand; he begins to lean forwards, his eyes closing.

You allow your eyes to close in anticipation of a kiss. Yet before your lips can meet, a tiny crystal blue light gently bobs its way into the little gap between you and the Champion, hovering up and down in the air playfully. It's unwarranted presence causes you both to stop as it's soon joined by other little lights of various shades, twinkling in the dark in beautiful colours of red, pink, yellow and green and as you and Leon glance around, more and more of the lights appear. In seconds, you are surrounded and illuminated by the small lights that have seemingly appeared from nowhere.

"...Aren’t these the same lights we saw in the Slumbering Weald?" Leon utters.

As you peer at the little blobs inquisitively, you nod and lift your arm with your palm out, allowing a small cluster to float over and settle in the base of your hand, illuminating the base of your chin with an iridescent, warm glow.

"They are. I wonder what they're doing here?" you reply, smiling as you prod at the orbs with a fingertip.

It sends them flying into numerous directions before they gently float backwards and towards you; they continue to swarm, bathing you and Leon with their ethereal light.

"They're attracted to you," Leon says.

”...Maybe I got it wrong, maybe they’re not just fairy lights, but...aura?” you mutter under your breath.

Whilst you ponder the true nature of the lights, Leon watches you for a brief moment before he leans forwards and presses a gentle kiss over your forehead. You stiffen slightly, as he proceeds to tuck a stray strand of hair from the side of your face to behind your ear. Your heartbeat soars, and you look up as the side of his palm brushes against your cheek.

”Leon?”

"I never told you how beautiful you looked that night," he murmurs, and you smile.

With his hand over your cheek to keep you in place, Leon brings you forwards and leans down to meet your lips in a passionate kiss.

...

[lifeonashelf]

COLDPLAY

Let’s get this straight right off the bat: Coldplay is fucking terrible.

We all know this. Designating Coldplay as terrible isn’t a statement of personal opinion, it is an easily demonstrable fact. Just listen to them; Coldplay’s music proves the existence of Coldplay’s terribleness the same way that breathing proves the existence of oxygen. Surely, even the band’s staunchest supporters understand that their songs are pretentious, monotonous, and unimaginative—they’d kind of have to; I assume these people have listened to Coldplay, too. If you like music as superfluous as Coldplay’s, that’s totally fine. I’m not here to tell you that you shouldn’t, nor to convince you to stop listening to Coldplay (you can’t stop listening to them, anyway; no matter how hard you try to escape, wherever you go, Coldplay will find you). But they are unequivocally fucking awful, and I need to make that clear before we continue in case I end up saying anything courteous about them later. And, who knows? I may indeed find something positive to say about Coldplay—I mean, nothing comes to mind right now, but it’s going to take me a few hours to write this piece so it’s possible something will at some point.  

Okay, so we’re all clear on Coldplay being fucking terrible, right? Great. But that isn’t the main reason I hate them. I appreciate plenty of terrible bands just as I appreciate plenty of terrible movies. Listening to a really shitty group is sort of like watching a cast of really shitty actors—though they clearly suck at what they do, there’s something oddly appealing about the charming naiveté they demonstrate by giving it the best go they can anyway.

For instance, since I was still filing most of my Warped Tour emo discs in my punk section when I began this venture, I never got around to writing about a band called Adair. If you’re not familiar with them, don’t worry about it; they only existed for a few years in the mid-aughts and their diminutive discography merely consists of a self-released EP and one full-length album, The Destruction Of Everything Is The Beginning Of Something New. Sonically, Adair were so amusingly prototypical of every baby t-shirt screamo band that was thriving at the time, they essentially sounded like they were parodying the style of music they played (although, to be fair, a lot of those squads did). But, Adair were absolutely serious, regardless of what stridently nasal heights the vocals reached, regardless of how faithfully their compositions adhered to their genre’s textbook page by page, and regardless of the sublimely ridiculous realms some of their allegorical angst lamentations ventured into (the line “lock me up in Guantanamo Bay and throw away the key” from the song “I Buried My Heart In Cosmo Park” may very well be the lyrical apex of their entire genus).

Adair’s music is so inane that it makes me laugh out loud when I sing along to it—but here’s the thing: I do sing along to it. I have probably played The Destruction Of Everything Is The Beginning Of Something New a hundred times from start to finish since my copy was sent to me to review for some website back in 2006, and I have cued up individual high(low?)points like “The Diamond Ring” and “Folding and Unfolding” even more times than that. As silly as they sound—and trust me, they sound very fucking silly—I still sincerely enjoy their tunes and have spent enough hours listening to TDOEITBOSN for it to possibly qualify as one of my favorite records ever. Shit, even writing about it right now makes me feel like hearing the disc, so I’ll probably end up blasting it in my truck tomorrow (ed. note: I actually did). If they ever decided to do a reunion tour, I would absolutely go see them, and if vocalist Rob Tweedie did that whole “hold the microphone out toward the crowd so they can finish the lyric” thing which every frontman in every band that sounds like Adair does at least a dozen times per show, I would totally be able to fill in each of those blanks and enthusiastically do so.

Sorry, we were talking about Coldplay. To recap, they’re fucking terrible.

Unlike a frivolous whimper-core ensemble like Adair, the most off-putting thing about Coldplay isn’t their music. They’ve actually managed to excrete a few tracks that I grudgingly enjoy over the years. However, sporadically releasing songs which don’t sound like they were specifically written for Gap commercials actually works against Coldplay in this instance. Sure, most of their output is noxious twaddle, but since they occasionally come across as a marginally decent band, their work isn’t awful enough to at least ironically appreciate it for being awful.

In fact, there’s absolutely nothing ironic about Coldplay—other than U2 and Radiohead (more on them in a minute), I can’t think of another band that seems to take itself as dreadfully seriously as Coldplay does. There isn’t a single lighthearted number in their entire catalog, and the demeanor of their music is so staid and cheerless that it’s hard to imagine the dudes ever cracking a smile while they’re making it. Their approach to songwriting is rigidly Pavlovian—when the music gets louder, ring ring ring, that signals the listener the *really* poignant part of the tune has arrived and cues them to emotionally salivate in kind—yet despite their calculated use of sonic dynamics to manufacture sentiment, the vapid and unspontaneous nature of the delivery saps their tunes of anything resembling genuine soul or passion. Even when thrusting through the more energetic tracks in their litany, the musicians in Coldplay always sound like they’re actively striving to not play their instruments too hard. The result is that they consistently deliver some of the safest and least edgy rock ever created, shaping their ethos around a formula so willfully tepid and cuddly that they barely qualify as a rock band at all. Coldplay aren’t quite the musical equivalent of plain yogurt (that would be Jack Johnson, an artist so comprehensively flavorless that even his name is fucking boring) but the granola in their mixture is always judiciously distributed so as not to agitate anyone’s tastebuds.

And at the center of this slow-motion kaleidoscope, you have Chris fucking Martin (I find it difficult to cite his name without including the “fucking” in there; he’s just one of those guys—like Jason fucking Mraz, Blake fucking Shelton, or fucking Bono). Coldplay’s music may be stagnant, but you’d never know it from beholding the practiced arsenal of slinky paroxysms their vocalist bursts into while that music is playing. In performance and in their videos, Martin’s appendages are incessantly in motion, his hands ever-swaying gently through the air like he’s waving a pair of invisible cigarette lighters or finger painting on the goddamn sky, ostensibly so deeply lost in his band’s reverie of sound that he simply can’t help himself from moving his body in a cadenced pantomime of the way their music is meant to superficially move your spirit.

For the three non-ballads the group has written in their career, Chris usually switches things up by crouching in an incongruous bobbing panther-stance like a battle rapper delivering a diss track about fucking his opponent’s mama in the mouth, until it’s time to freeze in the tried and true messiah-statue pose as the number’s final notes chime into the ether. But it is in the quiet moments when Martin truly shines—which makes perfect sense given that he’s the leader of a group so systematically anodyne they probably should have actually named themselves Quiet Moments. These are the obligatory interims where the frontman takes the stage on his own to sit down at the piano, resplendent in the spotlight, and perform an intimate solo rendition of one of his most tender hits to show everyone in the audience that Chris fucking Martin is a bonafide fucking musician who, if he really felt like it, could totally do the whole Coldplay thing without the other three dudes whose names no one knows. His soaring falsetto croon is custom-feigned for the arenas the band was destined to coldplay from the moment they dropped their breakthrough single “Yellow” and caused a nation of book-sensitive sociology majors eagerly anticipating the arrival of their generation’s U2 to cream their Dockers in unison. When Martin opens his pipes to summon those indelibly contrived choruses about birds and stars and other monosyllabic nouns, it hardly even matters what words he’s singing—the leitmotifs in most of the tunes are basically interchangeable anyway. What matters is that Chris sounds like he really, really, really means it when he says he will try to fix you.

That analysis probably makes it seem like I hate Chris fucking Martin as much as I hate his band. I actually don’t—he’s too benign a character to elicit such a fervid response; hating Chris Martin is like hating turtleneck sweaters, or actual turtles. In fact, I suspect he’s probably a really nice dude.  At least, I’ve never heard any creepy stories about him showing his penis to under-aged fans on Skype or anything like that.

Regardless, while I don’t specifically despise either Martin, Dude Who Plays Guitar, or the other two anonymous members of Coldplay, I do gauge their collective as the fourth or fifth worst band of all time. And the reason I loathe them more than any of their neighbors on that list is because they aren’t the kind of prodigiously abysmal group you can just ignore until their moment in the spotlight inevitably passes—which is how I dealt with Five For Fighting from September 2001 through February 2002 and how I’ve been dealing with Twenty-One Pilots for the last four years (seriously, are you fuckers done yet?). Coldplay is a far cagier nuisance because they are massively popular and have been for a ludicrously long time. I’ve been patiently waiting for them to go away for two decades now, yet they continue to pop up every third summer or so to drop a new album and remind us that, yes, they’re still here assiduously mining the middle of the road for new ways to write more tunes about clouds being pretty.

Even worse, I can’t disregard their music because it’s everywhere. I hear “The Scientist” while I’m shopping for cereal at the grocery store, I hear “Talk” when I sit down to eat at any chain restaurant, and I imagine I’ll be viewing that idiotic video for “Adventure of a Lifetime” with the posse of animated dancing monkeys on an infinite Clockwork-Orange-eyes-gaping loop for the rest of eternity when my mortal essence exits this world and I am cast into the fiery pits of Hell. I can’t even watch football without encountering Coldplay, as I discovered with horror in 2016 when they took part in the most fatuous jumbled fucking mess of a Super Bowl halftime show the NFL had ever presented (a zenith of suckery which seemed impossible to eclipse until this past February, when Adam Levine showed up covered with prison tattoos and said, “hold my beer”).

The pervasive level of esteem Coldplay has reached dumbfounds me. This is a group that has sold millions and millions of albums worldwide, even though I have never once heard a single person utter the phrase, “man, that new Coldplay song kicks ass.” I’m sure their most dedicated fans have favorite hits, tracks that are significant to them in some way, etc. But their remarkable success is patently disproportionate to how patently unremarkable the work which garnered that success really is. Nobody ever describes the band’s music as “awesome”, just as nobody ever describes a glass of pinot gris as awesome—the term simply does not apply to their province; actually, in this case, describing the mouthfeel of Coldplay tunes and recommending cheeses they best pair with is probably more relevant than discussing how they sound. Coldplay is as universally popular as they are precisely because they aren’t awesome. They’re not beloved because they’re extraordinary; most people love them because they’re innocuous, functional, and suitable for almost any occasion—Coldplay is akin to a pair of cargo shorts, and no one thinks cargo shorts kick ass. Coldplay isn’t an alternative band (on the contrary, almost every good band is an alternative to Coldplay); they are a lowest common denominator band, undemanding and ubiquitous and safe to like because everyone else likes them. Their work is specifically geared toward people who think appreciating music demonstrates sophistication, but don’t ultimately give enough of a shit about the artform to put any effort into finding music that is actually sophisticated or appreciable. You may assume Coldplay is erudite because they’re British and they cite books you’ve never read when discussing the lyrical themes in their work, but they’re merely recycling the same emotional territory as every other pop act that writes tunes about finding love, losing love, missing love, and the 18th Century French peasantry.

The best thing about being a Coldplay fan is that it’s easy. You don’t have to buy their records, go see them live, or make any concerted effort at all to receive their music. If you listen to the radio for any extended period of time (or eat at an Applebee’s), you will eventually hear one of their songs; all you have to do is not hate it and, voila, you’re officially a Coldplay fan. There, don’t you just love the security of venerating a critically and commercially acclaimed band that will never challenge you or be unpopular?

Okay, I do strive to be fair—even in this arena where I can say whatever I want and no one can argue with me. I gave this a lot of thought, so here are four things about Coldplay that are not terrible:

 1)      “Clocks”: I resisted it for many years, but I finally had to concede that it’s kind of a pretty song. Notes of red currant and blackberries, and it goes superbly with a nice aged brie.

2)      “God Put A Smile On Your Face”: It doesn’t put a smile on mine, but that’s why I enjoy it. Most Coldplay songs sound like they’re aiming to evoke what being hugged by a koala bear feels like, so I appreciate Chris fucking Martin delivering a darker number that seems intent on making me feel depressed instead. Well played, sir.

3)      Viva La Vida, Or Death And All His Friends: I sincerely respect their effort to broaden their palate a bit by working with Brian Eno and making Dude Who Plays Guitar buy a distortion pedal to use on one song. This is still an archetypal shitty Coldplay record, but at least it sounds a little different than all of the other archetypal shitty Coldplay records.

4)      Nah. They’re still fucking terrible; they were lucky to get three things.

 There is one additional facet of the group’s career which has fascinated me over these past several years, even though it relates more to bands that are not Coldplay rather than the band that is Coldplay. Earlier I dubbed them the U2 of their generation, and recent events in particular have coalesced to underscore that comparison. See, when Coldplay came out, the tributes to their Irish brethren in choreographed affectation were far from subtle. Chris fucking Martin’s warbling was plainly modeled after fucking Bono’s, Dude Who Plays Guitar served up an endless cycle of repetitive but hooky high-register licks that were striking similar to the distinctive methodology of The Edge, and both bands’ workmanlike rhythm sections held things down with competent yet discreet backing tracks which militantly fulfilled each song’s basic requirements rather than showcasing the musicians’ dexterity. I don’t think anyone ever disputed the collective homage in Coldplay’s dogma, and no one was terribly bothered by it either; at the time there were a lot of people craving a band that sounded just like U2, because U2 didn’t sound like U2 anymore.

When Coldplay’s debut album Parachutes was released in July 2000, fucking Bono and company’s career was on a downward arc after they largely vacated their signature approach to instead craft a couple poorly-received discs dominated by insipid rave-lite tunes that not even the members of U2 listen to anymore. Though they would temporarily rebound later that year with “Beautiful Day”, the last honestly excellent song they would ever record, U2 had left a gap that needed filling. And the most obvious inheritors of their kingdom, Radiohead, had grown tired of anthemic guitar rock; they were hunkered down creating their demanding but exceptional opus Kid A, which sounded nothing like U2, nothing like Radiohead, and indeed nothing like any other music being made on planet Earth. Kid A still had some anthems, still had some guitar, and still had a little rock, but its oblique delivery clearly demonstrated that Radiohead was chasing a far different muse and had little interest in claiming the crown (of course, this would be abundantly clarified in hindsight when they subsequently slid further down their rabbit-hole, gradually abandoning the anthems and guitars and rock altogether, until finally settling upon their current songwriting formula, which seems to mostly involve Thom Yorke masturbating on his laptop, naming ten of his climaxes, and calling it an album).

So while U2 were busy trying to figure out why they weren’t relevant anymore and Radiohead were busy doing whatever the fuck they were doing, the lads in Coldplay stepped up and said, hey, why not us? They seized the ersatz-earnest arena rock mantle with A Rush Of Blood To The Head and never looked back. Now, 17 years and seven multi-platinum albums later, they can ruin the Super Bowl, collaborate with the Chainsmokers, and even make the same kind of lameass dance music that essentially buried U2’s career with impunity. Even more significant, they have come full circle. A group that started out playing second-rate U2 facsimiles under the moniker Pectoralz (this is absolutely true, by the way) is now one of the hugest pop institutions in the universe, beloved by millions of music and wine connoisseurs across the globe. And the student has eclipsed the teacher; U2’s desperate efforts to play catchup have made their modern work sound unmistakably like second-rate Coldplay facsimiles. Chris fucking Martin and those other three guys are no longer pretenders to the throne—they are Coldplay, and this is their empire now, bitches.

These days, U2 has to reprise their old records in their entirety on nostalgia tours to get anyone to come to their concerts, and Radiohead continues to release unlistenable albums which their fans claim to love while sheepishly casting them aside to listen to OK Computer for the thousandth time instead. But Coldplay has strategically situated themselves for an eternity as the undisputed emperors of rock mediocrity. I think they’ve got another two decades in them, too; I have no doubt that long after Twenty-One Pilots is (finally) relegated to the county fair circuit where they belong, Chris fucking Martin will still be promising sold-out crowds that lights will lead them home and having a series of polite, gently-articulated seizures while he sings “Speed Of Sound”.

It seems I respect Coldplay a little more than I suspected. You know what? I’m going to amend my original valuation right here and now. As of this moment, I am formally designating Coldplay the sixth worst band of all time.

Your move, Godsmack.

 May 15, 2019

[kyouminaine]

Height Discrepancies

I was talking with a friend about the discrepancies between different translations and data over the years on character heights, ages, etc. This is especially prevalent between OG (original game) and 7R (Remake). It’s been stuck to my mind lately, so I decided to ramble on it a little bit.

Frankly it all started with Cloud. I’ve always seen Cloud to be 5′7″ (170cm) but I’ve seen people argue it is 5′8″ instead. When I checked recently, there were some sources that said it was actually 5.7ft. That converts to 173.7cm, which... isn’t 5′8″ (172.7cm). Tbh I hate conversions; there’s no clean way to convert between metric and imperial. 

But I digress. What I’m actually trying to get at is that Sephiroth’s height is definitely wrong. “Officially” - and I use this term warily because that was the height presumed in the initial English guidebook and not solidly confirmed in the original Japanese material; his profile is heavily redacted - his height is labeled as 6′1″ (185.4cm). 

If I use Cloud’s height at 5′7″ (which is a nice even number in centimeters, making it easy for comparison) and Seph at 6′1″ then we get this on a comparison chart: 

That’s definitely not how it is depicted in 7R. Hell, even in the other games this was completely off. Look at Crisis Core. 

Now, if we want a second comparison then let’s choose Aerith. Across the board, her height is labeled as 5′3″ (160cm). Comparing her to Sephiroth at 6′1″, we get this: 

There’s no in-game screenshot of Aerith and Sephiroth standing in any of the other games of the Compilation, and polygons are hardly a good reference from the original game, so here is a screenshot of the two of them in 7R: 

She doesn’t come up to his shoulder. (And no, I’m not going to allow the argument of his giant shoulder pads; use your basic sense of anatomy and figure out where his shoulder actually is.) According to the size chart, she should be able to stand just under his chin. Which once more brings up the question: just how tall is Sephiroth? 

If we compare Aerith to Cloud just to cross reference and say that Cloud is 5′7″ / 170 cm then we have this: 

And if we take one of the cutscenes in 7R of them together with Tifa, that’s about right: 

I found this a convenient screenshot due to the piping in the background that serves as an impromptu means of measuring height. Now once more, a size chart to compare all three. (Tifa is considered to be 5′5″/165cm, though some may say she’s closer to 5′4″ instead. Yet another inconsistency...)

The black line represents the top pipe in the screenshot. At least by this comparison I can comfortably stick with the information stating Cloud is 5 foot seven, not five point seven.

Going back to the issue about Sephiroth’s height, I’m going to compare Cloud and Sephiroth again but at a height that’s probably more accurate than what the Western audiences - and this may possibly be a global issue - have come to accept as “official.” Speaking with a friend on this, it feels fairly reasonable to assign this height to him: 

Yes, 6′5″ is the height we chose, which especially comes through what is seen in 7R. The cutscenes and in-game visuals we get really put an emphasis on Sephiroth’s height, which makes this headcanon feel more grounded. 

As a small disclaimer, when Cloud is in the same scene as Sephiroth, a lot of the angles aren’t level; it’s always from below or above. Lots of close-ups of eyes and lips and hands. Even in in-game scenes, like the final battle, Cloud isn’t standing up completely. He’s got a slight crouch and wider stance due to the Buster Sword. 

I’ve tried to pick a couple shots from cutscenes that give an okay comparison of their heights. They’re not the best, but they’re what I found: 

This last one doesn’t show Sephiroth so much as a piece of his armor, which I’d like to give a quick reference to one of the many scenes focusing on his chest: 

Taking note of the design on the double shoulder pads, and then comparing to the previous screenshots where he stands level with Cloud (or just behind him) then it’s fairly safe to assume that Cloud’s eyes are about level with the bottom edge of the upper shoulder pad. Or, for another reference, just above the center of the X where his suspenders cross.

Looking again at the size chart between 5′7″ vs 6′5″ then it’s a fairly accurate depiction of their height difference.

This screenshot doesn’t have them standing close to each other, but from a wide shot sometimes it’s easier to guestimate their heights: 

Flatting down the top spikes on his hair, Cloud’s head comes level with Sephiroth’s jawline, and this is with Sephiroth’s head titled down slightly. 

If Sephiroth was 6′1″ (185.4cm) then Cloud should reach approximately at Sephiroth’s nose (or just below his ears). This would be especially true if Cloud was 5.7ft, which roughly translates to 5 feet and 8.4 inches. (Like I said, I hate conversions.)

So, because he doesn’t reach Sephiroth’s nose/ears, then it seems more accurate to say Sephiroth has more inches than most of the fandom believes. (Or, at least openly speaks on. Everyone just shrugs about it, same for the multitude of inconsistencies in Zack’s profile. That’s a whole mess that deserves its own post. If it wasn’t for those inconsistencies, I would’ve used him as reference instead of Aerith because Zack gets proper screen time with Sephiroth.) 

I know some people will argue the boots and how they add inches or are “platforms.” Yes, boots can often add height to a person, but I’m going to toss that argument out the window because this is all running the idea that even if they are wearing boots then they have the same sole thickness. Also, since I used her as reference as well, Aerith’s boots have a thick sole too so she has the same “platform” effect as the other characters. (You’re supposed to take measurements barefoot anyway, not with your shoes on.) So even if they are wearing boots, the problem still remains that there’s a bigger gap in heights than originally interpreted. 

Unfortunately, Sephiroth’s bio is full of blanks that likely will never be filled. If it does get stated, I’d probably still be wary of it if it wasn’t near 6′5″ - or even 6′4″ (193cm) - because of how the characters all match up to each other. 

All in all, the miscommunication between heights, conversions, fanons, and all sorts of other data on these characters is a big messy pot. I’ll still stick with Cloud being 5′7″ and I will also accept that Sephiroth is a fucking sequoia tree. 

[bangtangcorner]

Chapter 1 : The Interview

pairings: mafia boss!park jimin x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: You were just a pawn in the play. Things take a twisted turn when you fall in love with the one you were supposed to cheat on. Chaos, as usual, ensues.

warnings: a few cuss words, that’s all. Oh and a little bit of a toxic relationship?

a/n: OH MY GODDDD I AM SO EXCITED TO START MY FIRST EVER FIC ON TUMBLR! I really really hope that whoever reads this, likes it :) There is no particular time for the updates but I’ll try my best to keep them regular. Feedback and criticism of any kind is always appreciated <3

part of the deception series

****

Why do you sound like ‘soul’?

What kind of soul is it that you have?

What holds me back at your side like this?

****

“You are going to wear that?”

I turned around and saw Jackson sitting on the edge of my bed with a deep scowl on his face.

I looked down at my outfit and frowned, “What is wrong with this?”

“Baby, no offense, but you don’t look like you’re going for an interview to work for Seoul’s biggest Mafia in those clothes. Wear a skirt at least.”

“No” I deadpanned.

He raised his brows and tilted his head to the side,”Are you saying no to me?”

My breath caught in my throat as I panicked, my face contorting into a frown.

“I, uh... I-”

“I’m letting it slide right now, but think before you speak next time.”

I nodded and let out a shaky breath before turning around to look at the mirror and coated my lips with some peach gloss before spraying some perfume. I picked up my sling bag and slid in some essentials into it.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Jackson locked his phone and stood up, standing in front of me. His hands firmly grabbed me by my shoulders as he looked me in the eye.

“Don’t do anything that you don’t want to. Don’t answer anything that you’re uncomfortable answering. You can’t, under any circumstance, blow your cover, you get me? We’re doing this for us, for Baekhyun. You understand, don’t you babe?” His eyes were bleeding into mine, tone stern.

“Yes, I understand.”

He smiled brightly at my words and dropped a little kiss on my forehead.

“Great, at least you didn’t wear those shitty pink sneakers of yours.”

“Jackson!”

****

“Hi, I’m here for an interview?” The statement came out more like a question. I couldn’t help it, the surroundings made me jittery.

The girl at the front desk seemed to notice this as she chuckled, typing something in her computer.

“First time in a place like this, sweetheart?”

It was a warehouse turned into a makeshift office. The walls were black, paint crippled. The furniture looked old and damaged. People were rummaging around the whole area, some with files and papers in their hands, others with guns and knives. It was hectic; not one person looked like they had slept for more than 3 hours.

I looked back at the girl who was now looking at me with raised brows.

“No, not really.”

As soon as the words escaped my mouth, someone came barging through the front door. His face was extremely bruised, cuts on almost all of his exposed milky skin. He doubled over and groaned, spitting out blood while falling to his knees. His hands clutched his stomach and people rushed to him, helping him up and taking him to what I’m assuming, the infirmary. He removed his blood covered hand from his stomach to reveal a big gash, continuously bleeding. I cringed at the sight and twirled around on my feet.

“I take my words back.”

She laughed lightly, “Your name?”

“Y/n”

“You gotta wait for a few minutes.”

I sat down on one of the chairs laid out beside the front desk. I took my phone out and saw that I had a missed call from Jackson. My fingers quickly worked against the phone screen as I called him back. He picked up at the first ring.

“So now you don’t pick up my calls, huh?”

“Jackson..I was talking to the receptionist.”

 “You know it doesn’t work this way baby, no excuses, remember?”

“Yes, I’m sorry Jackson, it won’t happen again.” I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning back against the chair.

“It’s okay Y/n, when is your interview?”

“It’s i-” 

“Y/n!” I looked up to see the receptionist nodding at me, silently telling me it was time.

“I have to go Jackson.” I said as I stood up and slid my sling over my shoulder.

“Knock em’ dead baby.”

“Bye.” Slipping the phone in my sling, I followed the girl to the elevator.

“15th floor?”

“He likes heights.” She smiled. “I’m Rosé by the way, and I’m not a receptionist. Thought you should know, just in case you get the job.”

My face turned red as I looked down at my feet, feeling embarrassed. She clearly had heard my conversation on the phone earlier.

“What do you do then?

“I’m his secretary. My girlfriend works at the front desk but she’s running a fever today so I’m covering for her.”

“Oh”

The elevator ‘dinged’ and opened, revealing the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen. The city looked breathtaking, the sky sparkling under the sunlight. 

“Surprised?” Rosé’s voice snapped me out of my stance. I turned around to see her grinning face.

 “This floor is exclusive so you should feel lucky to be here. And Y/n..”

I looked at her, she continued, “To the outside world, this is a normal warehouse. It should stay like that. We both know the power boss has, if you leak information, you’ll be basically signing up for your own death.”

I nodded, too dumbfounded to say anything. The whole building looked like it was severely trashed but this floor was absolutely gorgeous. The walls had a beautiful texture and were adorned by various paintings. 

“These paintings are marvelous.” I said as I walked closer to the wall on my right. The colors were lively and splashing into each other. It made me feel warm in the chest, made me feel content and calm.

“I know hun, but you can stare at these for as long as you want once you get the job and for that, you gotta ace that interview with boss.”

I giggled and followed Rosé down the hallway. We stopped at two huge doors. She knocked twice before calling his name out.

“What?”

“I have the hacker chick for the interview.”

“Send her in.”

Rosé turned around and patted my shoulder, “I hope you get it, you seem like a great girl.”

I nodded and looked at the door before closing my eyes shut and taking a deep breath. Now or never.

With a shaky breath, I pushed the doors open. My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes fell on the seven overly exquisite men scattered all over the room. I suddenly felt dizzy, bombarded with too many alluring faces at the same time.

I bowed down to all of them which they acknowledged with short nods. 

“Hey, you must be Y/n?” The one with dirty brown hair squealed, his big grin almost blinding me.

“Hobi, calm the fuck down!” The one with blue hair scolded him.

“Please sit Y/n.” The one who sat at the desk in the middle of the room said. My eyes met his and for a whole second, I could feel my heart violently throbbing in my chest. His blond locks were perfectly styled on top his head, eyes captivating and lips plump and red like fresh cherries. He looked back at me with the same amount of intensity with which I stared at him, his mouth parted slightly.

I cleared my throat and took a seat in front of his desk.

“I’m Park Jimin” He said as he offered me his hand. As soon as his fingers clasped in mine for a handshake, I felt my skin burn at the touch. His skin was  soft yet had the right amount of roughness.

“Y/n Y/l/n, but you probably already knew that.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat and nodded, bending forward to pick up a file. He started flipping through it while clicking his tongue.

“You have quite an impressive resume, Ms.Y/n.”

“Thank you Sir”

“I don’t really give a shit about this.” He said as he threw the file on the desk. I gasped in surprise and slouched back in my seat, suddenly feeling very small under his condescending stare.

“I know you hacked your college’s server to bring down the college website because it was trying to stop the students riot against the authorities. That was enough for me to know that you’re not only good at what you do, but you also do it for a good reason.” He said.

His words made me smile, his voice softer than before.

“What I need to know is that you will be loyal to me, to my men. Give me one reason why I should hire you and not those pathetic dweebs who need this job a hundred times more than you do.”

My throat felt parched as I tried to speak.

“Can I have a glass of water?”

Jimin nodded and pushed his glass towards me. My hands clamped around the cool surface as I chugged down the whole glass in a single sip and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Suddenly, I became very aware of the 7 pairs of eyes staring at me fiercely, making me feel more intimidated than I have ever felt in my whole life.

Keeping the glass back on the table, I answered him, “I’m sure you must’ve done a background check on me. I live with my friend Jackson. He found me on the streets when I was 18 after I ran away from home. He helped me get a job and go through college. Now he needs me to step up and take charge.” 

I stopped for a second and leaned back in my chair, looking up and meeting Jimin’s focused eyes.

“He has stage 1 cancer and we don’t have enough money for his treatment. I know this job will pay me well even if it’s not in the most ideal condition. I know my life will be at a constant risk working for Seoul’s biggest mafia boss, but if it means that I get to help Jackson survive, then I’m willing to work with this risk.” I let go of the breath I’d been holding and look down at my lap, nervously playing with my fingers.

“These 6 men around you are not only my best, but they have also grown up with me. You will directly respond to only us and no one else. Rosé will show you your work space and introduce you to Jisoo tomorrow. Is that clear?” 

My eyes widened as I looked up, “Does this mean I-”

“Yes Y/n, you got the job.”

I grinned as I clapped my hands like a little child and thanked him again and again.

“There’s no need to thank me Y/n. Rosé will guide you and clear all the doubts you have.”

I nodded and bowed down to all of them before practically running out of his office. 

I immediately pulled out my phone and called the last dialed number.

“He-”

“I’m in.”

****

a/n :Phew, so that happened.

Deception Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[ashflynns]

☄〔 HUNTER SCHAFER, TWENTY ONE, TRANS FEMALE, DREAM TRAVEL 〕╰ ASHLEY FLYNN just came over half - blood hill . you know , the child of HYPNOS who was claimed two months ago ? i’ve heard chiron say that she is PLAYFUL & EMPATHETIC , but if you ask the aphrodite kids , they’d say she’s LAZY & TACTLESS . i’d say they remind me of sleepy smiles and under-eye bags, messy buns and an unmade bed, running from your problems with bare feet & trying to hard to keep your friends but losing them anyway, especially since she’s FOR THE NEW CABINS . ( ✎ joey , 24 , she/her , bst . )

*insert nice graphic here aka for the love of god someone find me a photoshop link*

hi! its your resident sea witch joey here ready to bombard you with an encyclopedic knowledge of the greek pantheon and uk criminal law?? i guess??? if u dont already know, i’m the one with six (6) cats. i combined my task and intro because im LAZY and bad at intros so i’ll use paige’s stats as a crutch whoops. ash is the lazy laid-back stoner friend everyone needs. she has no trauma because she DOESN’t DESERVE IT so maybe the real trauma will be the friends we make along the way.

𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕤 .

name :  ashley finn

nicknames : ash, whatever cute names u wanna give her

birth date :  4th february (aquarius squad speak up!)

gender :  trans female

pronouns :  she/her

ethnicity : white

nationality : irish american

hometown : ?? idk american towns SUE ME but she’s from SOMEWHERE in oregon

demigod abilities : sleep manipulation, dream manipulation, dream travel

cabin number & godly parent :  cabin fifteen, hypnos

how did their godly parent meet their mortal parent? :  hlhglkhg so i thought it’d be funny if they met when ash’s mum participated in a sleep research study. i think i’m hilarious.

𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 .

faceclaim : hunter schafer

height :  5′11″

hair colour : blonde

eye colour : blue/green.

dominant hand : leftie!

distinguishing features : her hair’s actually super curly she just straightens it a lot bc curly bedhead is a bitch to brush through in the mornings.

dress style : ugh this is gonna be hard to explain but like. you know those alt hippy stoner girls?? like that. likes baggy clothes and neutral colours. a lot of quote unquote ugly clothes with clashing prints. band t-shirts and whatnot.

𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕡-𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 .

go - to  weapon : HAH implying she willingly participates in capture the flag. she’d go for a xiphos because it’s the most basic dfkjg

ambrosia :  garlic bread. yeah she’s that kind of bitch

favourite camp location :  zephyros creek!

their opinion of their godly parent :  really unbothered tbqh. but she’s a very laid-back person to begin with. a ton of her school friends had absent dads. if she hadn’t come to chb so early then maybe the whole ‘i have powers with no explanation’ would’ve caused some resentment but hey, he’s a god. he’s a busy man. and being raised by a single mum made up most of who ash is, so it’s not like she’d change anything.

age they were claimed :  this year baby!

how they were claimed :  look dad’s timing was off but as far as he was concerned he claimed ash when percy made the deal. ash kinda always knew it was gonna be him so it was no surprise.

stance on the new cabins : for  the  new  cabins.

their opinion on lyssa pentelute :   as far as ash is concerned, lyssa’s whole shtick is just an excuse to shit on the kids who don’t have to suffer the same way she did. so, uh, she’s kind of a bitch? i have this in a bit more detail down below.

quests :  i’m gonna tentatively put no for now (unless anyone else on quests decides they’d like to have dragged ash along!)

𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 .

positive traits : playful, empathetic, laid-back, friendly but not a pushover, patient

negative traits :  lazy, tactless, aloof,  spacey, struggles to express said empathy, lack of focus

mbti :  Iinfp-t, the mediator

alignment : neutral good

hogwarts house :  hufflepuff

kinsey scale : JUST ASK IF SHES A LESBIAN OKAY?? THE ANSWER IS YES.

archetype :  somehow she matched equally with the innocent child and the wise old man *insert so what is the truth meme*

what candle scent are they :  vanilla

goals & desires :  well this one was tricky bc ash is a simple girl with simple needs and really just doesn’t want anything to change. she wants a life without the pressures of work and commitment, but that’s just not gonna happen, is it? her short-term goals are to practice fighting that urge to stay in bed all day and try to be a bit more productive. it’s not going well.

fears : explained more below but basically she has a fear of destroying all her relationships due to a lack of connect with the world

hobbies : when she’s not napping? probably gaming, going on nature walks, baking treats.

habits :  biting nails is the worst one. spacing out. you know that thing where you just?? stop focusing your eyes?? but you’re still tuned in to the conversation? that.

𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 .

so hear’s the short version kfjglkdfgjd ( for NOW ):

ashley’s mum, niamh, is third-gen irish immigrant. ash didn’t have a luxurious life or anything. they mostly lived off benefits or whatever niamh could pick up from her extremely lucrative dog-walking business. how she met hypnos was a literal joke. they met when she participated in a fucking sleep study and i guess they hit it off. typical story of dad fucks off/single parent yadda yadda. there’s no real ~~trauma~~ to ash. yeah, transphobia sucks and high school really sucked all but her mum’s been super supportive since she first came out and no one at chb has given her shit yet. niamh’s still around and ash goes back home every couple of months to visit her. they have a pretty good relationship. it’s all cool.

i feel cliche saying she was a ‘dreamy’ girl but dreamy or spacey really is the best word for it. mixed with your typical demigod adhd you get a kid who really struggled with school. well, it’s not like she struggled - ashley’s a smart gal - but the teacher’s struggled with her. i guess it was hard for them to understand that ash actually does her best thinking when she’s asleep.

struggles to keep friends - maintains a persona of aloofness and apathy but actually cares way too much. the narcolepsy hinders her ability to form proper connections ( although she’ll argue the sCiEnTiFiCaLlY pRoVeN fAcT that napping with someone for half an hour does more to build trust than anything else ). and no one’s really that fond of ash popping into their dreams. maybe they shouldnt have so much to hide, huh?

her biggest ‘’’ inner struggle ’’’ shall we say is the pressure to be productive. let’s face it, she IS a lazy bitch, and that’s pretty much an inherited nature. getting a job sounds like hell, she sucks at combat training, she really could NOT be bothered with camp politics and god wars and whatever else. why can’t she just sleep and dream walk all day? monster’s are out there man, she’s gonna die some point soon anyway. but that doesn’t mean  she doesn’t feel guilty about it all. it’s kinda hard not to.

so, moving on to the ISSUE AT HAND. so when you walk through dreams and you sleep for 20 hours of the day, it’s not hard to figure out who your dad is, even if he never turns up. like, seriously, who else would it be? so yeah, sure. she was only claimed a couple of months ago. but she wasn’t completely in the dark like some of her other campers, and she respects that, truly. she got the luckier end of the stick and its not hard to understand the resentment among the minor demigods and the unclaimed.

HOWEVER, she’s very much FOR the new cabins. as explained above, lyssa’s a bitch whose taking her mummy issues out on others. ash loves bunking with the hermes kids but she’d like a space of her own and at the end of the day who the fuck is lyssa to make that decision?

𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒 .

pinterest! (its a wip there’s not much IM SORRY)

spotify (now this is the one thing i will never let u down on)

wanted connections coming soon!