#but anything more complex than a bust might actually have to wait until after my trip in a couple weeks

[quarklynx]

Since I apparently specialize in drawing d&d characters, this is just a PSA that Baldur's Gate 3 characters also fall into that category

[retrievablememories]

love thy neighbor | kun (m)

title: love thy neighbor pairing: kun x black reader genre: fluff, smut, neighbors to lovers request: “Hello again Rain! I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to see you're open for requests again. Your writing in general is a treat to look forward to. An idea for a fic I'd like to suggest is wayv kun/black oc where they're neighbors that secretly pine for another and do feel free get very nsfw lmao. TY!” word count: 5.7k warnings: alcohol use, protected sex, dirty talk, dry humping, riding a/n: i used a prompt from this list of ideas to help me create this fic.

i’m sorry, this fic could’ve theoretically been finished long ago but took me 3893 years because kun intimidates me (and i don’t know why) and that makes it hard to write for him l m f a o chile anyway...

--

Your neighbor might actually kill you one day—but only in the figurative sense.

Kun is too beautiful and kind for your sanity; he’s like one of those men out of a romantic novel who simply should not exist. In other words, the ideal guy. One who helps all the little old ladies in the building take their groceries up to their apartments, one who feeds all the stray cats that hang around the complex, one who helps new tenants move their things in without even being asked.

Your roommate Charlotte would probably be totally smitten over him just like you if she did not already have her own happy relationship with her girlfriend. But since she does, she has decided to spend her time instead teasing you about your crush on him and trying to persuade you into getting tangled up in a matchmaking mess.

“I’m sure he already has a girlfriend, I don’t know, trying to shoot my shot seems ridiculous,” you say to her, worrying the edge of your blanket in your hands. You toss and turn on the couch, flipping onto your stomach and sighing before shuffling onto your back again. “People like that can never stay single for long. Right? They get snapped up quick.”

“You’d know if you simply asked,” Charlotte points out. “Staring holes into his head won’t help you find out more about him.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, your fingers stumbling over the blanket as it momentarily slips from your hands. Still, the idea of asking him if he’s dating anyone, whether discreetly or more openly, makes you nervous. You’ve talked to Kun several times before, even hung out with him at those friendly get-togethers your apartment building always holds to get the residents mingling, but you’re still anxious around him. It makes you feel silly, like you’re back in high school; but you aren’t quite sure what to do with those emotions or how to form them into something coherent. “Easy to say all that when you already have the person you want, though.”

“Oh, girl. Love is not easy, but that’s why you have to fucking work for it. AKA, go for what—or who—the hell you want and stop pining over him like some lost Juliet on our couch. It’s better than watching you flop around like a dying fish.”

You stand up from the couch abruptly, leaving your blanket to the side and glaring at her. “You don’t get it, ugh.”

“I get it! But you refuse to let me help—”

“Yes, because if I did, you’d say something completely ridiculous and tell him I’m madly in love with him or something.” You head to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror.

Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey, maybe. But that wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Really? I don’t think—”

“I think so. The way you talk about this guy, it’s definitely sounding a little like love to me.”

Once you’re satisfied, you come back in the main room and grab your keys, wanting to end this conversation before Charlotte sets a world record for how many times she can make you feel embarrassed. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go to the corner store, so...speak now if you need something or forever hold your peace.”

“You can’t run from it,” Charlotte sing-songs, going back to reading her magazine. “And no, I don’t need anything.”

Once you get out your front door, it’s just your luck when you see Kun’s door is also open. You are not dressed for running into him, of all people; your “corner store” clothes being just a T-shirt, leggings, and slides. You freeze in place and momentarily think about unlocking your door and bolting back inside, which you realize is utterly ridiculous. By then, it’s too late; he’s already coming out his door and closing it behind him. 

He perks up when he sees you outside, smiling at you with those deep dimples that make your insides melt. “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“Kun! Uh—great to see you too.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” he asks. Inwardly, he feels a bit silly for asking because you clearly are, keys in hand and everything.

“Yeah, just to the store to get a few things.” You wave your hand, and you almost have the urge to lean on your doorframe to appear more calm and collected than you are. Which could potentially end up looking sillier than you intended. “How about you?”

“Going to see a friend,” he answers, and he brushes his hand through his hair in a way that’s completely casual but somehow modelesque at the same time. This is unbelievable, you think to yourself. “We haven’t met up in a while, so…”

“Oh yeah, it’s always nice to go out with old friends,” you say, smiling at the thought of it. Kun nods his agreement, and then has an abrupt, wild idea to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere sometime. Too busy warring with himself over whether he should take the dive, he doesn’t notice you heading towards the stairs already. “I hope you two have a good time!”

“Oh—thanks. Hope you enjoy your trip.” He chuckles, following you down the steps to get to his car. Well, that moment has passed. Sure, he could probably still ask you now if he was bold enough about it, but it feels too awkward to randomly ask someone out in the middle of a stairwell.

You wave bye to him once you both get in the parking lot. He watches you walk to your car with a wistful smile on his face. He wants to say more to you, but the timing isn’t right and it’s best not to hold you up right now. Plus, Hendery’s probably already waiting for him.

It would’ve provided you with a lot of relief if you knew Kun was facing a similar dilemma to you. He’d never had much problem talking to women he liked in the past, but something about you made him feel clumsy and hesitant. But just like with your inability to move forward, there’s no way for you to know his feelings without him saying anything about it—which he has been hesitating over for the longest. 

Maybe he was also still cowering from the embarrassment of the time he’d tried to show you a magic trick that didn’t quite work out, but it was a convenient excuse. At least for him, anyway.

One day he’d get the courage to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t think today was that day.

–

Some strong shots and a few hours at the club was exactly what you needed to unravel your nerves after a long week. You and a few others from your work had decided to go out that Saturday night as a group effort to unwind from dealing with your overbearing boss. “Just a couple shots” eventually turned into more than that, though, but you weren’t complaining. As long as it gave you the opportunity to discard all your issues for a while, you didn’t mind losing yourself a little.

However, your night of fun quickly dissolves into frustration when you realize you’ve lost your keys and have no way to get back into your apartment. You’re not even sure where they might’ve disappeared—in the club, or in the rideshare back to your apartment?

Charlotte is out of the city for the week visiting her long-distance girlfriend, so there’s no way you’re getting back in your apartment tonight. The main office won’t be open at this hour, either; it’s the weekend, and nobody will be there regardless until Monday. And you’re definitely not drunk enough or desperate enough to try to bust the door down.

Though it pains you to do so, you knock on Kun’s door, your head throbbing and dizzy. You feel bad about this. He won’t even be awake at this hour and might not answer, but you don’t know what other options you have. You aren’t familiar enough with your other neighbors to ask this of them. Especially not the old lady living on the other side of you who has a perpetually judgmental aura towards everyone in the apartment building. The only person she seems marginally approving of is none other than the man himself—Qian Kun.

It takes a good minute or two, but you hear the latch unlock, and Kun is suddenly standing in front of you, a look of concern on his sleepy face. He is adorable like this, in his pajamas and his hair mussed and his eyes foggy with sleep. He’s so cute it makes you want to cry—and so you do. 

But your tears are mostly because you’re very tipsy and tired and currently locked out of your very comfortable apartment.

This awakens Kun immediately. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He gently pulls you into his apartment, his tone quiet but panicked as you put your face in your hands and cry. You just shake your head for a few moments, crying too much to say anything to him. When you don’t reply, he doesn't try to press you for answers; he just puts his arms around you, a bit carefully as if you’re made of some easily breakable material, and lets you wet his T-shirt with your tears.

Finally, when you’ve collected yourself some, you abruptly feel foolish for crying over something like this. He probably thinks someone’s died, and you’ve gotten him all worked up for practically nothing. “I-I’m locked out,” you sigh heavily, and he has enough politeness not to outwardly react to your alcohol breath with your close proximity. “And my roommate is gone…forever.”

His eyebrows lift. “Forever?”

“The whole week, Kun...but it feels like...f-forever.”

“Ah...I see. Is that why you were crying?”

You put your head back in your hands. “Just kill me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kun says, and there is a tiny lift to his mouth like he wants to smile at your dramatics. “It’s fine. You can stay here tonight.”

“Kun, thank you.” You’re still loosely embracing each other, and you squeeze your arms more tightly around him. Maybe it’s just a reason to rest your head on his chest again and hear his heart beating strong against your cheek, but you wouldn’t admit that. Wait, why is his heart beating so fast? “Thank youuu, I love you so much, this means the world to me.”

Kun’s mind catches on the words I love you so much, and he knows you’re just drunk and need to sleep it off and aren’t really thinking about what you’re saying, but he cannot help lingering there for a moment. He’s glad the front room is still dim from the single lamp he turned on, otherwise you might notice the flush growing on his cheeks. “I...it’s no problem. We should get you comfortable, then.”

As it turns out, get you comfortable means he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. In another context you’d protest, not wanting to kick him out of his own space, but you are simply too smashed to think about it. You’re seconds away from falling asleep where you stand now that the adrenaline of discovering you’re locked out has worn off. Kun has the idea to make you drink some ice cold water, though, which wakes you up enough to take a proper shower.

By the time you get out of the shower and are wearing his clothes—his clothes—you are feeling a little more sober. You also feel like you’re going to have another small meltdown over all this. “This” being: wearing Kun’s clothes and standing in his bedroom, which is decorated with all his interests and treasured belongings. There’s a small studio setup in one corner, which interests you, but you don’t investigate it any further.

Now you have another little problem, though; what are you gonna do about the pillows? You don’t have anything to cover your hair with, with all your scarves and bonnets in your own apartment. One night of sleeping on a cotton pillow wouldn’t kill you, but that doesn’t make it any less distasteful to think about.

Kun comes into the bedroom to check on you and sees you puzzling around, sitting on the bed and looking awkward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. It’s nothing really,” you rush out, unsure if you should tell him about a problem he likely won’t even understand. It must be at least 4:00 a.m. by now, meaning you both desperately need to get some sleep.

“You can tell me, I won’t bite.”

I wouldn’t mind if you did pops into your head, but you immediately try to ignore that thought and are silently grateful that you do not blush visibly.

“Uh, my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Okay, I need to cover it at night so it won’t get all broken off or anything—sleeping on cotton does wonders for destroying moisture—but I don’t have anything here to use. I mean—it’s...not a huge deal though, I can deal with it for a night?” You’re rambling now. Kun just nods, taking in all this information like he’s listening to something very important and very interesting.

“So then, what would you do to stop that?”

“Wear a scarf, or a bonnet, or using a silk pillowcase works, too. But you probably don’t have any of that stuff, you don’t have to bother with it—”

“Well, let me see.” Kun disappears into his closet and you pause, wondering for a moment if he actually does have a bonnet or something in there. Which would probably be a little hilarious to you.

He comes back out with not a bonnet of a scarf or even a pillowcase, but one of his own shirts. It’s just the right material though, being a pretty purple silk.

“Oh—Kun.” At this point, there are several emotions all trying to come to the forefront, though you have no clue which one to settle on. “Your shirt? You really don’t have to. I could…”

“It’s just a shirt, Y/N. There are a lot more where that comes from...I don’t mind.” He chuckles.

You sigh bashfully but take the shirt from him. “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” You cover the pillow with his shirt, and it works perfectly.

“Anyway, if you need anything else, just tell me,” he says, lingering by the door.

“I will...thank you,” you say, your voice quiet as you give him a nervous smile. Only when he shuts the door and his footsteps fade away do you allow yourself to bunch the comforter in your fists and scream into it. Everything in here smells just like him, which is probably more than enough to fuel all of your Qian Kun-related daydreams for the next 8 months.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when you finally do lie down, and your mind is blissfully empty of anything throughout the night.

--

The next day takes a bit of settling into. You’re momentarily alarmed when you wake up faced with a strange room until you remember last night’s events and recall where you are. There is also the smell of food, good food, which is also sadly unfamiliar to you. Charlotte can’t cook to save either of your lives, so you know you’d never be waking up to the smell of a professional chef-approved breakfast if you were still in your apartment with her.

Walking out of Kun’s room, you see that he’s in the kitchen, halfway finished with cooking breakfast for the both of you. It’s more like brunch at this hour, but what does that matter.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to imagine that this is what things would be like if you were dating. Getting this view everyday? Life cannot be this unfair.

Maybe not too much, though, since you are standing in his kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” he greets you, breaking your reverie. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. I slept great. Thanks again for, you know, the shirt, haha…”

He grins, and his dimples come out. “Sure thing. Go ahead and sit! Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It’s the best breakfast you’ve eaten since living with Charlotte; maybe some of the best food you’ve ever had. “I had no idea you could cook this well,” you say. “I mean. I guess I wouldn’t since I haven’t—you know, uh—eaten here before, but—it’s great.” It’s just your luck that your thoughts come out in this fumbling mini-rant, but Kun only laughs good-naturedly.

“Thank you, I’m truly glad you like it.”

You both continue eating breakfast while making light conversation. This just might be the longest conversation you’ve had with each other, and that knowledge seems surreal. You’re almost a little glad you lost your key. Almost.

“So...today is Sunday. And the leasing office still won’t be open until Monday.” Kun says this over the remnants of breakfast. He speaks in a measured tone, like he’s trying to ensure he says the right thing. Whatever that could possibly be. “And you told me your roommate won’t be back until Monday.”

To your credit, you hadn’t exactly accounted for this when you first came over to his place in your distressed state. That means another night spent in his apartment though, which becomes very obvious to you now. “Ah. Sorry, am I imposing?”

“What—no, I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you can stay here tonight, or—however long you need.”

Relief floods through you, and you briefly wonder why you even worried about it; as far as you know, he’s not the kind of person to just kick someone out. “Ohh, of course—that’s good to know. Thank you for all this!”

“You’re welcome.” You miss the smile he gives to your response as you’re busy drinking your juice, but it’s one filled with a certain affection.

--

It feels a bit awkward to just sit around in his apartment all day, with nothing to do and all your belongings still locked out of your reach in your own place, so Kun shows you the studio in the corner of his room. He’d talked about being into music before, but you’d never heard anything of his until now.

When he plays the keyboard for you, it’s to the tune of a beautiful self-composed song. You almost pinch yourself to remind yourself this isn’t a hallucination or a fever dream. A man this appealing really exists, and you’ve stayed the night in his apartment and eaten his breakfast. You give a small round of applause when he finishes.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you became a famous singer or something? I’d come to all your concerts,” you say lightly, kicking your legs on the edge of his bed.

“All? Really, all?” He laughs.

“Yes, all. A voice and talent like that deserves all the attention.” You lean back on his bed, stretching your legs out. “But all your venues would probably be sold out. Hopefully you’d remember me from your lil’ ole apartment building. I’m sure you’d be living in a penthouse by then.”

Kun smiles bashfully at your compliments, waving his hands as if it’s too much. “Thank you. But I don’t think I could ever forget you.” His voice grows a bit softer. His expression is more genuine than you expect for a conversation that was so playful only seconds ago, and you find it hard to hold eye contact all of a sudden.

It is your turn to be bashful, and you shrug in an effort to seem natural. “Well, I’m flattered.” Despite your unaffected demeanor, you don’t think those words will leave your mind for a good while, even if you wonder about the meaning of them. 

--

Later that evening, Kun makes dinner and you watch TV together, flipping to whatever channels have dramas or movies playing.

You two eventually fall into another conversation when you can’t find anything good to watch—one that does not make you overly nervous for once. During a lull in the talking, that big question pops up into your mind, and you wince internally at how Charlotte would’ve already told you to make a move. You aren't sure how to do that without making him uncomfortable or seeming too sudden, but you decide to make an attempt.

You edge into it with, “So, um, your place looks pretty nice for one guy. It’s just you here, right?”

“Ah yeah, just me. Thanks, I do try my best.”

“Haha, I’m used to my guy friends all having super messy apartments until they get a girlfriend and she teaches them how to clean a stove for the first time…”

“Oh really? That’s a bit sad for them, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s all me.”

Just the information you were looking for. You try not to show your elation. “Why not?” you blurt out. Then you cringe because this might sound too invasive or even judgmental, but Kun only grins. “It’s just, it’s a little surprising. You’re such a generous person. You seem to care about everyone, even those poor stray kitties that stay outside the apartments all the time.”

He smiles timidly in response to receiving more of your compliments. “I guess it seems curious when you put it like that.” Just like when you’d drunkenly said I love you so much, there’s suddenly heat on the back of his neck that he hopes won’t turn into another blush that’ll expose him. “I don’t really know, I haven’t thought much about it; life’s weird like that.” He isn’t really sure how to answer that question in a way that won’t be too big of a hint that he’s interested in you, though he’s also not entirely sure why he’s still trying to hide it. Wouldn’t now be the perfect opportunity? When will you two have this much time together again? Still, you staying in his apartment for two days doesn’t mean you like him, and maybe he’s jumping the gun.

“That’s true. Guess that’s the same reason why I’ve been alone for a while now.” You shake your head.

“You?” Kun is equally surprised to know this about you.

You laugh incredulously. “Does that shock you or something?”

“I...well.” He rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the words. “I just thought...you’re very pretty, and you’re always really kind when we speak, so...”

“Oh?” Your face heats up at that.

“Yeah, I…think anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your body’s first instinct is to freeze with nervousness, but you know Charlotte would be kicking your ass in gear right now if she were somehow here. So, you decide to stop stressing about it and just do it. “Well...wouldn’t it be nice if we both had a way to fix our problems at the same time?”

Kun pauses for a moment before replying. “What do you suggest?” He knows what you are proposing—you can see in his eyes and his slight grin and his posture that he knows—but maybe he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Hm, well…I don’t know, what do you think?” You lean a bit closer to him, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look innocent and unassuming. His smile turns into something different with your increased proximity. Something a little more sly.

Mirroring your actions, he inches nearer to you until there’s little space left between. “Well, I think…” Kun tentatively closes the remaining gap between the two of you, the rest of his sentence left to linger as his soft lips envelop yours.

Maybe it’s corny to say it, but it definitely feels like one of those fairytale kisses with the fireworks going off and streamers popping; even though you’re sitting on his couch wearing his pajamas, some movie in the background you’ve long forgotten the plot of, empty dinner plates sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You aren’t sure how you end up in his lap—who made the first move? Was it his hand on your back or your hands on his shoulders? You straddle him on the couch, your arms slipping around his shoulders and his hands on your back but assuredly traveling farther down your body.

Kun’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pulling the fabric of his shorts up a few inches higher. “I never thought I’d see you wearing my clothes,” he says lowly, grinning against your mouth.

“I also never thought I’d be sitting in your lap like this, but maybe sometimes dreams do come true,” you say jokingly, your lips rubbing against his skin as you slowly kiss his jaw.

You can’t see his expression, but his eyebrows shoot up at that. “Dreams, huh? You think about me often?” His voice pitches lower when he asks this, aroused by the thought of you imagining anything quite so lewd about him. You’ve definitely incriminated yourself now and won’t be able to wiggle out of it without an answer.

“...Maybe.”

“What do you think about me?” Kun grips your hips, which quickly turns into him grabbing your ass—tentatively at first to test the waters, and then firmly enough to grind you against his hardening cock. Sensing him solid and warm underneath you sends a shockwave down your spine, and the sensation heightens when his voice caresses your ear, all low and tense with arousal. “It’s just the two of us here. No one else has to know.”

“I think about your...lips. How you might kiss me. Or what you might say to me. And...your hands.” You pause there, a quiet breath whispering past your lips. “You have really big hands, you know.”

“My hands…” Kun places one on your chest, spreading his fingers across and touching your collarbone. The heel of his palm glides on the top of your breast, and just that touch is enough to get you more worked up. “Hmm. Actually, I’ll admit I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirks, and he’s possibly the finest thing you’ve ever seen. “What else, Y/N?”

“I thought about how you’d touch me.” His hand slides between your breasts now, down your sternum, and to your stomach. “Maybe I’d invite you into my apartment when Charlotte wasn’t there. We’d watch some stupid movie and pretend to be into it, but we’re really just thinking about each other. You’d eventually end up slipping your hand up my skirt...and making me cum all over your fingers.”

You aren’t sure how you’re saying all this to Kun right now, the dude you have a major crush on, without bursting into flames.

His shaft rubbing against your clit even through your layers of clothes makes you sigh dreamily, pressing your forehead to his and gripping at his shoulders and biceps. His bangs are soft against your forehead, and your breath stutters when he moves to kiss the side of your neck. He has to know how hard your heart is beating right now.

“And then what?” His voice is barely a whisper, then.

“And then you’d fuck me, of course.” There’s a slight laugh in your voice at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing your skin.

“And then I’d fuck you...hm,” he echoes. “Sure, I can do that.”

The promise of it entices you, and more heat pools between your legs, amplified by the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. His hand that’s still on your stomach travels under your shirt then, and your hips falter in your rhythm against him when his fingers brush across your nipple. He brings his lips to your other breast, lapping his tongue against your nipple over the fabric.

You soon come like this, his shaft grinding against your clit and his clothes rubbing against your skin, his hands on your ass and his lips traveling across your breasts. The orgasm is sudden and surprises you, but it’s good, and you convulse as the waves of pleasure course through you. You weaken and slump against him, with him still teasing your breasts with his mouth and hands. Pushing your face into his hair, you moan into the black strands until the quivering stops.

You’re breathless when you speak again. “You haven’t come yet.”

“I’d rather do that when I’m inside you,” he replies. You giggle quietly.

“...What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hold on.” Kun carefully maneuvers you off his lap, and you already want to complain at the lack of his touch. “I have to get a condom.”

“Hurry, or you’ll miss all the fun,” you say as you pull your shirt off with your back to him. You look back over your shoulder at him and grin mischievously.

“You’re such a tease…”

Kun goes into his room to fetch a condom, and when he returns he’s already pulling his shirt off, leaving it on the floor somewhere. You’re fully naked now, your legs pulled up to your chest and your chin resting on your knees as you sit on the couch. Kun’s eyes drop between your legs, your inner thighs still glistening from your previous orgasm, and he swipes his tongue across his lips at the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

Likewise, your eyes drop to the dark trail of hair leading into his pants and his bulge just below it, the way his sweatpants cling to his length, and your pussy throbs with the desire to be filled.

“Please, hurry.”

Kun doesn’t waste any time in getting the rest of his clothes off, shoving his pants and underwear done in one swift move and rolling the condom over his shaft. He climbs onto the couch, grabbing your legs and guiding them around his waist, and you giggle at his eager but gentle touch as you recline on the couch pillows behind you.

He grabs his dick and lines it up with you, then pushes it in slowly at first. The stretch makes your toes curl, but it is a good kind of stretch, the kind that fills you to the brim. Like the missing element you needed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice husky from the pleasure.

“Fuck, please,” is your answer as you shift your hips and try to get him all the way inside quicker. Noticing your urgency, he slides the rest of the way in until your hips are flush against each other and starts thrusting into you. His length dragging across your walls feels much better than you could’ve imagined on any given night, and you clasp your legs tighter around him to get ever closer.

After a point, he pushes your legs up with his hands behind your knees so he can get a deeper angle, and you both moan at the difference in sensation and how much tighter you get around him.

There is no ignoring the messy wet noises of your bodies colliding due to the slickness of your previous orgasm and the new wetness he’s continually fucking out of you. Each thrust reaches deep inside you, deep enough to make you nearly sob, your hands fumbling over your breasts and your clit all the while.

“Kun, god yes please,” you whimper, rocking your hips into the rhythm of his own. You fucking him back makes him groan deeply, his bangs hanging off his forehead as he dips his head to watch himself slide in and out of you. You could not control the urge or the motion of your body even if you wanted to; you want all of him, as close as he can get.

“I don’t want this to end,” he moans, and he pulls out without a warning. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, and your discontent comes out in a full whine. You’d be more embarrassed about it if you weren’t currently consumed with desire, but you presently do not care.

Kun sits back on the couch and pulls you on top of him again. “Ride me,” he says. So you grasp the base of his cock, him grunting as you do, and you press the tip against your entrance before pushing it in. He watches himself slip inside of you while fully enraptured, one hand tight on your hip.

Once you are full with him again, you experimentally grind against him to see how it’ll feel in this new position, and your arms tremble as his pelvis stimulates your clit.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, grasping the nape of your neck and kissing you hard once more, “fuck yourself on me.”

So you keep grinding your clit on him like that, your limbs shaking from the stimulation and your walls fluttering around his cock. You can barely catch a complete breath from him kissing you hard enough to make your lips swell, and your head is so fogged with lust that all you can concentrate on is getting yourself off just like he told you to do.

“Kun…” You roll your head onto his shoulder, pressing your forehead into his skin, your body tiring as you get closer to reaching that high. You’re so close to coming, but you’re not sure if you have enough strength left to get there on your own. Kun notices the state you’re in and grasps your hips to pull them into his, effortlessly sliding himself into you while making sure your clit gets stimulated at the same time.

The new friction of his dick rubbing against your g-spot in this position is enough to have you finally coming and crying out against his neck.

You continue babbling nonsense against his neck as he keeps fucking you, searching for his own end. His hands are hot on your body as he moves you up and down his length.

His climax comes soon after yours, his dick pulsing and his pace slowing. Your back arches at the sensation of him throbbing inside you and releasing his cum into the condom. The way he groans in your ear has your stomach clenching.

For a few minutes after, you both sit quietly and do nothing but cling to one another as you come down from the pleasure.

“So, does this mean we’re together now…?” Kun asks hopefully, running his hands over your back as you lie against him.

You smile against his skin. “Obviously. But if you still want to convince me, we can go a couple more rounds…”

[troquantary]

Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

[vaguely-concerned]

X-men Evolution; the great 2021 rewatch liveblog

exactly what it says on the tin, about halfway through the show I had TOO MANY FEELINGS and had to start writing some of them out haha (gets quite gambit & rogue/gambit heavy in the latter half, Because of Who I Am as a Person)

- this is my childhood’s x-men, my formative experience with them, and I’m happy to report that still seems like a good thing. the little eleven year old within me gets to geek out and have a good time with the characters and the surprisingly good animation and writing, adult me gets to CACKLE at regular intervals at the fashion/technology/absolute bonkers hot garbage comic book nonsense they use to justify a storyline every now and then, it’s been a good time 

- I was like ‘ah well it is super dated it probably won’t be quite the same now’ and then rogue’s HAIR did the THING in the opening and ‘it’s all coming back to me now’ started playing in the background... the little baby queer in me swooning across time and space

- such a good beast, both his design and the writing, my heart aches for him all the time. he’s just so passionate! about being a teacher! helping young humans learn the stuff they’ll need in life! the most wonderful nerd man, just let good things happen for him

- I’m going to go ahead and assume that rogue’s ‘crush’ on scott is more of a deeply complex psychological process about desiring normalcy and intimacy and trying to figure out if she’s queer and dealing with her emerging sexuality and latching on to the first and best safely unavailable and nonthreatening older boy to project these issues onto rather than actually being a real thing, because I respect her so much as a person and I cannot bring myself to imagine she’s honestly attracted to a man who has POSTERS OF CARS on his bedroom wall. (I’ll give jean a break just because she seems to have a longer deeper history with him that might counteract some of that libido-kill, and also she’s a jock so lol)

like I am very sorry but can u imagine being a teenage girl with any interest in a boy with model cars in his bedroom when gambit’s swanning around being a much, much, much worse choice on almost every possible level but in a teen girl kryptonite kind of way? inconceivable  

(I drag scott quite a few times in this and it’s not because I don’t love him, it’s just his tragedy to be the most draggable man in the world)

to be fair by the time gambit shows up that whole Situation has mostly played itself out I suppose but still  

- toad’s design is so ineffably brilliant, I can’t quite tell you why but that ugly cute charm has really stuck with me, he’s one of the characters I remembered the best to this day just visually

- poor evan... he truly never had a chance, did he, they just saddled him with the most 90s teen bullshit they could come up with like he’s some kind of ‘what adult writers think teens like’ frankenstein’s monster ;______; it’s not your fault honey

- poor poor POOR storm, she gets one focus episode and they were like ‘we’re going to make an episode so racist -- ‘

I’m still STUNNED at how bad it was, but undeniably I laughed hysterically to the point that my neighbours were probably worried when that dude was earnestly like ‘He [stunningly breathlessly racist caricature of a ‘witch doctor’ guy] has stolen her powers, and he’s going to use them to take over Africa!!!’ fhajsdlfhsakjldfh oh really? tell me more, like how the fUCK this could be on television within my life time fasdlfhsdkjfhsad f  just... fahjksdfh

- it’s a testament to gambit’s appeal as a character that his charm can survive what they’ve done with his hair and beard choices in this one fajskfhs regrettable but true I still fuckn LOVE him and in my highly biased yet Correct opinion he should have been around much more. get you a man who manages to stay hot through sheer Vibes even with a bowl cut

- aw scott/jean is kind of sweet in this show even if it’s taking them forEVER to get there, I like it 

- it’s very nice of rogue to not mention magneto’s romantic daydreams and nostalgic memories about charles xavier after touching his face that one time... or maybe her brain did her a service and repressed it, there’s some stuff you shouldn’t have to know about your father figure   

- the danger room is the very definition of ‘why do we even have that lever’ and I wonder what the fuck prof x does to have enough money to replace everything that gets busted all the time

- I’d say that a lot of the writing holds up surprisingly well! (but some of it is also incredibly inexcusably racist in ways that beggar belief, so... not full marks here) the characters have distinct voices and their arcs are set up and delivered on solidly for the most part, and there’s a lot of love showing through in small moments that are just there to have a funny/interesting thing to say about the characters and how their powers work separately and in combination. listen, sometimes I get so thirsty for like. basic goddamn competency in storytelling, let me have this

- ugggggh why is there captain america in my x-men have I not suffered enough... very very funny when prof x goes ‘sounds like you knew rogers personally’ and logan is like ‘I did ;)’ *all the students ganging up on steve rogers* “did you fuck our teacher, captain america?!”

- fskadfhas WHY are you showing me hot young-ified magneto’s ass fksjahfskj charles is not even here to see it, what a tragic waste erik 

- ...I was sort of kidding before but uh I think logan genuinely did fuck captain america (or at least wishes very much that he did lol)

- wanda can have a little watching the world burn. as a treat for the way every single adult in her life has fucking failed her (’aren’t they treating you well here’ professor x she’s in a straightjacket)  

- poor rogue tho can you imagine finding out after your biggest crush on a girl yet that she’s your fucking MOM in disguise... I would break out in cold sweat every time I thought about a boob forever after

- well seems like they really just had all that homoerotic rivalry stuff between quicksilver and spyke in their first ep only to never do anything with that again ever?? I mean even without the gay undertone that seems like a dynamic you spent most of an episode setting up writers what the hell haha

- dslhfkasjlh GAMBIT THERE HE IS MY BOY IS ON THE SCENE THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! I don’t even care about his awful hair situation or the fact that his eyes are wrong here (coloured contact lenses, maybe, for a watsonian explanation? though he’d probably have to get them made special, considering he needs the sclera and the iris covered up in different ways, I’ve seen some comic panels indicating he has been known to?)

(cute little detail: when he shuffles the cards the first time we see him he ends with removing the top card to show the ace of hearts beneath <3 foreshadowing baBEY he’s a... good-ish boy deep down. hey he tries okay shit gets complicated sometimes lol) 

- cracking UP at gambit perched cheerily on the edge of a crate dispensing cards in the middle of the battle... he’s like ‘eh it’s a livin’ sfsajkhf remy stop working for supervillains just because you had nothing to do on a thursday afternoon and they said they’d pay you

- I’m guessing magneto must have imposed a strict order of silence on these guys or something because I cannot imagine any other reason for him to shut up, especially once he notices rogue is a QTE (or, far more likely, they hadn’t settled on any voice actors for the new characters until next season haha. it is kind of odd that they’re all keeping up near monastic silence, though, even sabertooth lol) 

- WHAT an epic first meeting for us rogue/gambit fans here... first his shadow like there’s fireworks going off behind him lighting him up and then he gives her the fuckn king of hearts and she’s so enchanted by his dumb handsome face she doesn’t even notice it’s about to blow up in her hands and it all happens in heavily meaningful silence afjsdfjashjk no wonder this ship ingrained itself in my hindbrain  

yeah look smug while you can remy she’s gonna have you on your knees one day and you’ll be happy about it lol

- god storm is so COOL, everything just fading out of focus when she really gets going... give her more screen time, show!!

- mystique is every person... this person... that person... that bird... that cat... that wolf... I’m not even sure she’s not also me... are you sure she’s not you? 

- holy fuck I respect the hell out of the decision to just... blow up the entire status quo in a season ender, I only vaguely remembered that (actually in general I appreciate how good the continuity is -- buildings and places that get damaged in battles need to be repaired or rebuilt, it makes the consequences feel more real even when no one gets seriously hurt. where they get the money to restore scott’s car and logan’s motorbikes every time they go cablooie is still an open question tho lol is it credit card fraud, professor? is it telepathically acquired blackmail???) 

- I first watched this when I was nine or so, so it’s a real experience to go from my starry eyed intrigued ‘oh my god... they’re teenagers’ to my horrified adult perspective of ‘oh my god... they’re TEENAGERS D:’

that goes double for the brotherhood boys honestly, I’m here with tears in my eyes like ‘I’m sorry the system has failed you so badly you’re all just a bunch of dumb kids whose caretakers clearly fucked up spectacularly’  

like lance is always waiting for mystique to come back because she’s the closest thing he has to a safe parental figure, may we speak about how crushingly depressing that is 

- rogue is so ready to throw hands at literally any moment and for that I love and treasure her immensely (I think getting to see her be so surly and unreasonable and sometimes difficult and jealous, like any teenager, meant a lot to me as a kid who was not really allowed to be any of these things, this version of the character has stayed with me so deeply. she holds on so fiercely to her right to feel what she feels and be what she is even when it’s ‘ugly’ or unreasonable, which I think plays in really interestingly with how her powers involve getting invaded by other people’s thoughts and memories to the point of overwhelming her own sense of self and the fact that she clearly has a lot of self-loathing and self-consciousness and confusion about her identity as well. I love her so much)  

- oooof this is the ‘the gang experience a microaggression’ episode huh (well more like macroagressions really)

hits a bit different with adult eyes and perspective huh

- hearing jean sound almost like a child when she says ‘that’s so unfair!’ somehow has me like ;______; -- she has to be so adult and responsible all the time, and having her be reduced to the kid she still is and should get to be in front of this awful awful man she could squash like a bug with the flick of a thought... ugh I’m Big Sad (it is funny that jean seemingly plays Every Sport tho djfhaskj)

- MY BOY IS BACK!!! this time with the duster coat and his eyes the right colour, im so happy (too bad about the subdued colour scheme tho; I adore his dumb bright pink getup with my whole heart)

it’s kind of adorable that he takes the time to take the bullies aside and go ‘I know these guys can’t wreck you without getting expelled, but I think you’ll find no law set down by god or man would stop me from doing so whenever I wanted to. so piss off and leave them alone’ lol he’s looking out for them, in his own way

- in this episode: remy lebeau wrangles some kids while looking bored yet mildly amused the whole time. what the fuck does magneto have on you for you to agree to this level of babysitting duty buddy

- fun detail I noticed b/c when I get a fave I hyperfixate: he gave rogue the king of hearts before, but he ‘introduces’ himself to the brotherhood here (lol) with the jack of hearts, probably to symbolize he’s here as someone who works for magneto in this setting and not as his own man? it’s a demotion he’s given himself there, anyway, might be he’s not very pleased about his current position huh 

- I like it when rogue and kitty team up, they’re not very effective together but their squabbling is so cute and non-aggressive 

- pietro is what draco malfoy would be if I ever found malfoy interesting to watch for even one moment, every time quicksilver talks I’m like ‘what wonderfully insufferable thing is going to come out of your mouth this time you little shit :’)’

- a) why are scott and logan shirtless for this scene? I am not complaining on the logan side of things at least but why and b) I laughed so hard I almost fell off my couch when scott asked logan if he’d ever been in love and he was like ‘once. she was the most beautiful bike I ever saw’ falsdfhaskjfhsakjlfhasklhjfd THE BEST VERSION OF WOLVERINE EVER, ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES 

- mystique’s sheer dedication to being a petty bitch is kind of inspirational tbh, almost makes me want to go on a completely bonkers and extra crusade of personal revenge myself  

- oooh they’re doing some genuinely cool things with vision/lack of vision in this one (it’s the scott left on his own in the desert without glasses one btw) even visually, dang! I’m so sad this show didn’t get more seasons than it did, honestly, it deserved it

- hell yeah jean wreck her, go get your man with the suspiciously specific clothing damage normally done to female characters 

awww :’) okay yeah they’re super sweet, I love the tiny loving animation details like how he leans his head against her and her stroking his hair away from his eyes

- nooo don’t bully evan leave my t0tally r4dical sk8er boy alone :(

- I love the running joke of people fleeing in blind panic only to reveal that what they’re running from is kitty’s cheerful well meaning little face fskfaskh 

- scott and jean are already peak married after officially being together for one episode and it’s adorable, and they just stone cold threw logan under the bus, rip wolverine we hardly knew ya

fjasdlfasldfhslajdkfhsadkjlfhsdkjalfhsdakfh h jean establishing herself as the alphabitch of this relationship by throwing her man to the wolves right after dsjfhaskjfhaskjhfsakjdhfaskjhfaskdhfskjahfskdajhf get smarter or get volunteered scott 

- ...eyepatch lady is so hot ngl

oh evan went to the place hank used to go to calm down ;________; (honestly he’s kind of won a place in my heart just by being a pretty normal teenage boy haha)

- jesus fucking CHRIST can you imagine being storm having to look her sister in the eye as she tells her ‘I lost your only child, he’s *vague gesture* somewhere in the sewers we think’ this poor woman

- amanda the self admitted monster fucker you are so VALID (I love her and her family’s design so much tho!)

- it’s so cool that even in his human ‘disguise’ kurt’s fingers follow the shape of his actual hand beneath it rather than moving like a five fingered hand, it’s such a lovingly consistent little detail 

- magneto and mystique in a breathless race to see who can be the shittiest parent... tune in next week for yet another parental nadir (also some low-poly gambit appearances in this one, for those at home keeping score (me), he’s in the background looking like someone drew him with their eyes closed fakjldfhasd look how they massacred my boy)

- someone please teach the brotherhood boys about consent huh

- jean ‘soccer mom before her time’ grey and her SUV dfhakjlhds :’)

- im sobbing rogue baby girl i’m so sorryyyyyy, this voice actress is so good, my parental instincts suddenly kicked into overdrive hearing the crack in her voice :( (bb me was right tho rogue centric episodes ARE the best episodes. that tension between ‘do I identify witn this character or am I crushing on her?? both???’ now has the fun new addition of ‘oh god oh no you are a baby I want to shield you with my body from everything trying to hurt you’)

- mystique is like ‘so you see despite you telling me you never wanted to see me again I completely disrespected that and posed as a friend your age, manipulated you by offering you the mirage of direly needed emotional intimacy and belonging and added some sprinkles of homoerotic tension to it just to massively worsen your already existing grievous psychosexual trauma and identity issues... out of love’

god go jump in a black hole you fucking monster 

- there’s some very interesting and quite subtle subtext about the people she’s morphing into and what that says about her mental state/how it shows off some of her emotional baggage with the rest of the team. it’s like she’s switching between people/powers that fit the purpose as if she’s going through cycles of fight/flight (and then bursts of freeze where she’s herself, which is... so sad)

- this whole episode is hurting my heart but rogue at full power is undeniably epic  

 - ‘professor x get your goddamn act together and get this poor girl some fucking tHERAPY’ challenge

- SAFE PAPA LOGAN ;_____;

- EYYYYYY opening straight on My Lad, I cannot stop winning!!!!! 

fasdfhsad disintegrating the window with a smiley face... remy I do love you more than my heart can bear honestly, hello may we speak about the fact that his urge to be a little shit is so deep and strong it survives mind control (that little breathed out ‘hiah!’ as he vaults the fence too dsakfjsd)

hahaha and he does up the coat fhsalfdsaj 

- magneto dismissing other telepaths like ‘puh-lease, your Meaningful Looks have got nothing on my ex-husband’s’ 

- :’) rogue and kurt sibling timeees

- say what you want but this pyro guy’s got job satisfaction in being a creepy arsonist with a weird recurring horse theme (well at least twice but still weird)

- I love how beast is the kindest man to ever walk the earth but also straight up savage, this man drags people so hard their ancestors wince in their graves

- gambit taking the time to complete the guard’s game of solitaire -- this episode is giving me everything I want. u little disgrace mr lebeau

and THEN he takes the spider out in the most hilariously bonkers way my heart is so FULL

(I love that when magneto moves by he looks startled and has to quickly move his head out of the way to avoid getting kicked in the temple too that’s a fun detail)

I’m so INTO how this sequence shows off that his greatest strength isn’t even his powers (which are pretty straightforward, really, he makes go boom, longer time and bigger thing bigger boom) but that he’s clever and creative and always extremely ready to be the most harebrained-bananapants-extra-in-a-deceptively-laidback-sort-of-way person in the room (I actually have some genuinely Deep Thoughts about how his whole character does a really interesting thing with having the straightforwardly destructive nature of his powers yield to what his nature as a person is, and how using the playing cards play (heh) into it, maybe I’ll write it out some day. just the fact that he could use anything, but he deliberately chose something that adds style and playfulness and corny charm to it and that also limits the damage of the explosions compared to if he habitually used something with more mass... I find it fascinating how much he’s made a story around himself with it and how deeply it shows he does have a good heart, at the end of the day, in almost a metatextual way. he doesn’t want to destroy things or people, he’s at worst (and best lol) a thief.)

- I honestly have literally no memory of white nick fury (which seems so weird now isn’t it funny) in this series from when I was a kid, he clearly did not make an impression on me lol

- mr wolverine ‘assigned canadian at birth’ x-men 

- oh man I dig the androgynity of x-23′s outfit (even tho they had to compensate with the long hair, which... kind of doesn’t make sense in-universe but does on a design level because it’s a crucial thing that she’s a female clone of logan so yeah okay fine whatever have your arbitrary gender markers if you must haha)

ooooooh that’s actually really clever, they make her gender gradually more obvious as she unravels through the episode and her outfit changes -- first the mask coming off, and then her jacket opening to show her silhouette more clearly, that’s cool!  

- my god what really sets this show apart is how much it invests in little character and relationship moments, it’s just so fucking GOOD! it gives laura looking in on those moments such depth and weight because it’s new to her but established to us as an audience, this is how you make found family devastating people (storm growing bonsai trees is so charming too haha) 

- ooof this is honestly quite harrowing 

SHE’S SO SMALL COMPARED TO HIM I’M CRYING (at least that part of his genes translated over faslkfsjdh short king, I say this with all the love and support of a fellow short monarch)  

- tabitha seems to just be running around doing precisely whatever the fuck she wants and you know what I support her even if she is an asshole her father left her a bunch of trauma and no fucks left to give 

- still thrilled about professor x explaining the spider key fuckup to magneto after the fact like ‘magnus you dumb bitch this is why we split up’ 

- awww kitty has anime and movie posters on her wall and sleeps with a stuffed toy :’)

-          remy                           rogue

                              🤝

doing completely unnecessary parkour around the brotherhood living room seemingly just for the hell of it... I’m not saying soulmates but fucking soulmates 

- fhsadkjlfhsakjldfhsadjkfhsdajkfh just as gambit’s soul-level need to be a little shit survived his bout of mind control, rogue’s deep and urgent desire to kiss gambit full on the mouth survived hers I can’t breathe

she looks so pleased with herself too GOOD FOR YOU GIRL at least get something out of this other than more trauma 

also not only the fact that he’s smart enough to figure out what’s going on (though he’s only partially right about who’s behind it. I do so enjoy gambit/mystique deep and sincere antipathy as a constant across all universes tho lmao pure wlw/mlm hostility) but also that he keeps fending her off like he’s not trying to hurt her even though she’s in nigh on unstoppable and invulnerable terminator mode... awww 

- gambit having absolutely no patience for wolverine and sabertooth’s bullshit macho-off and consistently being this little biker trio’s one brain cell is adding years to my life with every passing moment

his voice is a little different in these scenes too, a bit softer and less like he’s trying to impress someone, it’s nice

- hank: well I barely recognize any of these (completely made up) ‘ancient egyptian hieroglyphs’ but from what I can make out -- *proceeds to infodump a perfect coherent narrative* fjdhfak  

listen this whole thing is such nonsense on so many levels, I’m just turning my brain off so I won’t have to think about it okay, the compulsion to put ancient aliens in egypt haunts us as a culture 

- I am CACKLING about gambit in the snow after having to listen to these two chucklefucks ooze testosterone at each other for hours

he started out taking it in good cheer and is now reduced to ‘dieu would both of you just jump off this fUCKING mountain please’

- ah. a little oops-a-daisy there, we seem to have unleashed the apocalypse. please stand by (they really don’t pull their punches with the season cliffhangers in this show haha)

- opening the season on gambit’s merrily grinning face is the easiest way to gain my favour. yes good this season may commence 

baby u r my

 ANGELLLLLLLL

(he’s so cute here tho haha I think it shows the design isn’t unsalvagable, just get him better hair and stubble more like logan has and you’ve basically got it) 

love his exasperated eyeroll when the dude gets spooked (by his eyes? or just the general weirdness?) too

he’s just trying to keep this crazy family of evil mutants together and unmurdered by one another until they’ve managed to avert the end of the world, bless him  

- oh NO rogue’s LIP wobbles my hhhhhheart ;____; such a good animation detail to put in

- like... I know kurt is just a sad scared teenager with a lot of shit going on and all the adults are too busy averting the end of the world to help him... but buddy maybe don’t ask your sister to wake her abuser (who forced her to kickstart the end of the world!!!!!) when she feels utterly unsafe even with her statue version around huh

- ...wanda is good and I want only good things for her. and for her dad to be disemboweled for what he did to her both the first time around and when he forced her to forget I mean what 

- magneto throwing an epic satelite-slinging tantrum b/c ‘no I am the biggest sexiest strongest mutant of the pack :(’... erik fucking get over yourself 

- yes boys absolutely go along with a plan suggested by a dude who looks at you like this 

nothing bad can come of this surely asdfkhsa

- lance’s quarter of a braincell always trying to go ‘hey wait, maybe... not do this???’ and it never helps lol

- in this episode: Logan Has A Bad Day 

...some very specific bondage positions he’s held in here, I am sure this episode awakened something in someone once upon a time lol 

- logan shielding x-23 with his body... im fine it’s okay I’m not crying don’t look at me

- afsdhlsdfjasdlk those sure are some ‘scottish’ accents flsadkjhkdsjahfsd

- scott relieved to finally be able to cede the position of ‘charles xavier’s least favourite son’ to someone else fjsaklfhsajd (poor scott it’s not your fault honey)

supremely cowardly to suggest there is an ex-wife involved rather than charles slutting his way around the british isles back in the day but okay

- kurt with a cold is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. it’s okay kid it’ll get better soon

- ...is there an implication here that professor x is naturally blond. because I am losing my entire little mind about it (i mean he at least has to carry the gene, as does this lady?)

ETA: upon doing some research into this I can indeed confirm that charles xavier does seem to be naturally blond, and after this knowledge I will never be the same 

- “listen, dracula” fskdafghasd oh scott you sweet baby angel I love you

- I know jean’s abilities are a bit ‘as strong or as weak as the plot needs right now’ at this point (so you can have the setup for what’s going to happen with them eventually and she’s basically invincible ;____;), and normally I’m cool with it but god I want her to just squash lucas like a little bug

- ewwwww please don’t ever say ‘daddy’ like that again

- ...what the fuck is even going on this episode’s a mess 

like okay the split personality thing could be something but the way it’s done... what just happened lol

- MY BOY EVAN IS BACK! with a real glowup too (...though kind of weird how he suddenly looks like a grown man)

- augh scott’s eyes are so pretty oh my god ;__________________________;

- that episode in the first season where evan makes the ‘this is my new family!!’ video is so sad now (also, again, his poor poor parents) 

- time for: life affirming road trip with gambit (involuntary) faskljdfhaskjd

stunt therapist remy lebeau 

- I mean the way he goes about it is batshit insane and it’s very much secondary to what he’s actually up to but this is the first time rogue’s sounded genuinely hopeful and confident and like herself in like a season <3 

- he is disconcertingly pleased about her nearly throwing him off the train, and may I just say I agree it’s so nice to see rogue with her old fire back 

- the first time I watched this it was of course dubbed into norwegian, so I had no idea either of these characters were southern lol (though to be fair I probably wouldn’t have had much context for what it meant exactly either, I was like ten at the time and not too interested in america) I seem to dimly remember the norwegian voice actor did a little more of a ‘french’-tinged accent for gambit all over tho haha  

- you know what respect where it’s due, pyro dude knows to live his life for the lols and one has to admire his sociopathic dedication to it

interesting that he, too, seems to have fucking hated magneto -- I wonder if the implication here is that he kept all the acolytes in line with blackmail or by keeping something/one hostage? (except sabertooth maybe he’d just have to say ‘you get to fuck shit up and fight wolverine’ and that’d be enough)

- fsdakfhsd he’s so focused on her he doesn’t notice that guy about to hit him fkafhsa 

- fuck everything else except whatever the hell these two’ve got going on

- it’s weirdly cathartic to have rogue have a conversation with someone who was not happily adopted as well, I don’t think kurt like. gets it because his parents loved him unconditionally and still do 

birds of a feather motherfucker  

- fun detail: when the x-men team are on the shore and logan is sniffing around scott is stepping in something and trying to wipe it off his boots in the background

- when he wakes up after passing out from the touch he’s smiling even though she’s standing over him looking like the rage of god outlined by the moon fsajfsa well the last time he passed out like that it was from a kiss, maybe he still has some hopes and dreams in that direction lol (also he recovers from the tumble down the hill first and is checking on her before accidentally brushing her cheek with his hand, which I thought was sweet) 

and it was in that moment he knew he fucked up *passes out*

- ‘I can explain’ can u remy. can u  

- did it ever even occur to you to just. ask her. to help you. I mean I know it didn’t but like rogue’s always one second away from throwing hands with some bully and is stupidly ride or die, if you’d given her the puppydog eyes she would have crumbled immediately (fair enough I guess this entire episode is telling us he’s not from a background where he has much experience with people just helping him without a price haha) 

- his eyes glowing when he’s angry or upset or using a lot of his power is undeniably cool as all hell. I’m just saying it would be Big Sexy if they sort of flickered with light in moments of genuine vulnerability okay  

- his coat... his coat is what makes the Silhouette tm and I could not be happier about it 

- another parent of the year contestant enters the running lol “hey remy have you ever considered that you’re more of a walking bomb factory than a person? that’s certainly how I think of you hahaha c’mon kid let’s go��� 

- the running joke of jean luc getting dollar signs in his eyes seeing the other mutant powers and gambit being like ‘nO!!!!’ and pulling him along is amazing haha

- from the way he looks when he touches rogue accidentally and the way he talks to his dad I’m sort of getting the feeling this gambit might actually be a bit younger than he looks?

here too -- idk why but it’s making the ‘wait is he baby???’ alarms go off in my head haha. very early twenties at most. 

- and we’ve officially seen him with all the face cards in the heart suit folks! (yes this is the sort of thing my brain notices no I don’t know either)

- poor logan running his ass off this whole episode in a panic and then she’s like ‘nah he’s fine (in several meanings of the word ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) please put him down’ hfaskfsda

- rogue without makeup!!! her eyes look so naked like this haha <3

- oooh here’s a really interesting thing that tickles my brain a bit in this specific part of the scene where gambit frees his dad -- the part where he’s leaning against the door frame waiting for jean luc, who’s about to suggest using the opportunity to ruin the rival gang from the inside rather than slipping away while they still can

from his expression here he knows what’s about to happen, what jean luc is about to say, and it’s clearly a ‘man who thought he’d lost all hope loses last additional bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of situation. he KNOWS what jean luc is like, and it still hurts that he really, honestly can’t give him even this, can’t appreciate that remy’s already done all this shit for him when he extremely didn’t have to, without immediately (no really, it took him less than ten seconds to go there? jesus) demanding more.  

remy tells him “I’m just here for you” and jean luc does not understand it. remy seems to be sincere in this motivation -- rogue certainly thinks so, having experienced it second hand and found enough at least emotional merit in it to decide he was worth saving even after all his bullshit (lol a bit of a running theme maybe. I think it’s very telling that after she absorbed mystique she was like ‘what the FUCK you’re a fucking monster’, and after she absorbed gambit she went ‘you did the wrong thing for the right reasons’ after she got over the first wave of outrage) 

there’s also what he says as he stands there: “You don’t need me for that”, with the distinct implication that jean luc would only keep him around because he has a use for him and for no other reason -- and then jean luc shamelessly doubles down on that by specifying that it’s not even him he’s got a use for as such, just his powers. that’s some kicking puppies level of deliberately missing the point, it’s almost impressive in how cheerfully mean it is haha

this idea of using people is really important in this episode because remy’s doing basically exactly the same thing to rogue to begin with; it doesn’t really matter to his plan that it’s her that’s with him through this, just what her powers are. (I think it’s  p r e t t y  solidly implied that he does actually like her a lot outside of that too and maybe there is some comfort in having her around for this, but mostly he’s behind a smokescreen of lies through the whole thing sooo I doubt he’s even aware of it, honestly)     

but then it does matter that it’s her when she comes back for him, even after what he did. and unlike jean luc he understands what that means, that she did that for him, and that she didn’t have to. and instead of asking her for more, in return he gives her the thing it’s been established is what he considers the most valuable thing he has; his ‘last card’, the thing he’s credited with keeping him alive many a time, basically. it’s gone from using to mutuality, a tentative place of friendship, and at the end of the day he is a different man than his adoptive father, with a capacity for selflessness and love he lacks. which is of course some of the same stuff going on with rogue and mystique too, except rogue acted from a more fragile and unstable place and did something she regrets, or at least has a LOT of doubts about now, and she found some catharsis in helping someone make a different choice in a similar situation. man there’s some Stuff going on under the surface here haha

(by the way it’s a weirdly... meaningless yet intensely meaningful thing, the gifting of a symbol? of an idea? but he’s putting something very crucial of himself into her hands, is the subtext, and he expects her to understand, which she also does seem to do. at the beginning of the episode he’s proving that he’s seen something true about her -- “You’re such an unhappy girl”, knowing where she comes from, the way she’s mourning her lost confidence and autonomy with her abilities -- and here she’s proving she’s seen something true about him. :’) I wish this show had gone on long enough for this dynamic to progress, it’s really interesting and touching)   

- gambit dragging himself up onto dry land seeing someone approaching (to help?!): :D

gambit seeing that it’s logan and the look on his face: D: 

- rogue using her powers so confidently and fearlessly in this episode tho!!!! 

- *me crying* and then her FAMBILY comes to take her home and he says he’s looking out for her too and kurt still loves her even though they’re having a conflict thing between them and she’s finally able to use her powers without so much fear again and --

- ...did I just watch some baby lesbian love at first sight shit right now???  

- okay last two episodes let’s go

- HELL YEAH STORM (I love that she’s like ‘don’t give me a dumb order like that and I won’t have to disobey it’ too sdfjsaj) her voice has such command I’m usually very much not the ‘step on me’ type butttt

- y’know I feel like apocalypse’s main fault across all versions I’ve seen of him is that he’s like an immortal superpowered god king and he’s not even sexy. like at least make him hot if he’s going to be insufferable in every other way 

- also callout post for apocalypse: one time he made gambit into the Horseman of Death... and didn’t even make him sexy!!! you were handed remy lebeau, supreme bi disaster slut of the x men universe, and you couldn’t even make his brainwashed superpowered evil side hot?? a beautiful stubbled twunk with glowing red eyes and extremely charming :> face practically delivers himself into your hands and you do that to him???? I mean I’m sure apocalypse did some other bad stuff too but that was the worst one

(comics are so dumb y’all) 

- having to watch jean cry is emotional terrorism!! ;___; she has such older sister/mom energy, whenever she gets sad and helpless it hurts 

- oh, OH so PROFESSOR X you’ll make into a hunk and ~*strategically*~ rip his clothes to show off a nipple and a flawless pec in a way that makes me extremely uncomfortable because he’s like The Dad??? apocalypse you are rotten to the core this is unforgivable 

- so wait wanda never actually gets her real memories back. what the FuCk I hope that was a dropped storyline because they ended the show tragically prematurely rather than like. the plan

- why is spyke calling storm ‘storm’ show that’s his auntie o!! >:(

- as a society we need to acknowledge that apocalypse looks like a fucking clown

- ooooh yeah I have been thinking that this show’s greatest visual weakness so far has been not having a visual way to show telepathy/battles of the minds, but this is a pretty cool way to do it! better late than never

- I’m so happy rogue gets to end this herself, since she was forced into starting it against her will, it’s just nice and neat storytelling

- YEAH FUCKING TELL HER KURT AND ROGUE I AM SO PROUD OF YOU and she has the temerity to look pissed off oh my god

the only valid thing mystique has done in her entire life is be in love with destiny. literally everything else she gets up to is a travesty. like I know objectively she’s hot but my loathing for her stops me from even appreciating it. I do enjoy loathing her tho so please don’t change her haha

(a bit odd to have kurt’s attitude to her swing so much but I’m just going to assume he and rogue had a good long conversation after ‘cajun spice’ and that he understands what’s going on better now)

- this last part is such a cruel tease faskdfhsdaj ‘here are all the cool-ass things we had planned. sucks you never get to see it huh’ im devastated 

- magneto without his helmet and playing charmingly with children like charles is going ‘well at least I saved my marriage finally’ fsadkhfjsd (honestly tho I would be super interested in seeing how they’d redeem this magneto because he’s been a real bitch the whole time lol) 

there’s an interesting thing here where magneto looks down at wanda as the last thing he does on screen before this epilogue part (yeah I hope it fucking haunts you forever what you did to her erik you absolute piece of hot garbage) and the last thing charles does is look at jean b/c he knows what’s going to happen to her and it breaks his heart... Dramatic Parallells  

- just the hint of jean as the phoenix has me in full D:D:D: mode tho maybe I wouldn’t have survived it

- gambit in the last groupshot with his arm around rogue ;^) I mean I’m sure they’re headed for some turns and roundabouts along the way but what’s that thing she says as her wedding vow, that she’ll always find her way back? anyway that got me in my heart

- man I really wish this show had been given more seasons, we were barely even getting warmed up here :’(

[heyitsyn]

Mess Up

TimeTraveler!Son x Haikyuu!!

a/n: lmao im really sorry about this :’( this is just a brain dump and something i thought of while i was watching the stage play and i was thinking about it last night until i fell asleep

p.s. your son’s name is natsu in this one and hes an oc so dont be confused as to who this guy is 😂

summary: your son accidentally stumbles through time and the only way he can go back is if his mother and father get together. the only problem? he doesnt know who his father is

he,,,, messed up

that was clear the moment he woke up to a supposed bicycle accident in early morning when it shouldve been a car accident at the dead of night

lets take a flashback shall we

natsu came home after volleyball practice around 8 at night and he stumbled through the front door where he could smell the delicious food that you were cooking

‘ma! tadaima!’

he shouted and you peeked from the hallway with your blue apron and ladle and a close-eyed grin

‘okaeri, baby!’

his slippers padded across the wooden floors to go to the kitchen and watch as you stirred the miso soup

‘how was practice, dumpling?’

omg i would totally call my future kids that though

he shrugged, even though you couldnt see him, and went to the fridge to grab a bottled water before taking a sip

‘inter-high is coming up so captain’s been making us practice longer’

he answered then went to jump on the counter beside the stove so you could see him

he turned silent as he inspected your features and how youthful you still looked despite going through so many stressful times and hardships of raising your son alone

but he was really wondering what was exactly your purpose of being here since you rarely cooked for him due to being busy at work and therefore coming home late

‘ma, why are you here early?’

you noticeably stopped for a second before smiling, eyes shifting from the pot to him

‘i,,, have something to talk about with you’

natsu blinked then leaned against the wall and crossed his arms

‘is it something bad? but youre cooking my favorite so it must be something good. then again, it might be something bad but you want to be on my good side so youre bribing me with-’

‘natsu’

you softly called out to him and he stopped

you turned off the stove and shuffled to the side so you could stand in between his legs

no words were said as a sad look passed your eyes and you cupped his face, looking at him

‘youve grown so much, natsu. ma is sorry that she wasnt here to watch you grow. can you forgive me?’

natsu let out a confused sound and he placed his hands on top of yours from his face then quirked an eyebrow

‘ma, whats going on?’

he slowly asked

you continued to look through every feature of your son and grimaced slightly as his father’s stood out much more than you thought

‘come. lets eat while we talk’

dinner was tense

it was more of the tension coming from you and natsu being so worried and confused that he couldnt even eat his favorite

suddenly, he slammed his chopsticks to the table, fed up with the silence and genuinely worried by your behavior

‘ma, tell me whats wrong’

you winced and swallowed before shakingly placing your own utensils down and looking at a stain on the table from when he was 5 and accidentally spilled dye from his tye-dye activity

‘natsu, i,,,’

you drifted off but he gestured for you to continue

‘first off,,, i want you to know that i love you and that i only want what’s best for you. second,,, i hope you will go through with this because i,,, dont want you to bear this,,, this grudge for the rest of your life’

‘am i adopted?’

he demanded but you looked at him in shock

‘what? no! we literally have the same hair color and eyes, dumpling!’

then he let out a relieved sigh

‘thats the worst thing i thought of so i feel better now. come on, hit me’

you chuckled but went back to talking

‘your father,,, wants to meet you’

nope, that was actually the worst thing he heard

‘father? what, father?’

he couldnt stop the venom that dripped from his words and you flinched because you knew he would act like this

‘we bumped into each other at the airport,,,, he told me about,,, wanting to meet,, you’

you mumbled, now concentrating at your laced fingers

‘well, you can tell him to fck off because the feeling’s not mutual’

natsu growled then continued shoveling down his rice but you reached out and softly placed a hand on his arm and sent him a pleading look

‘darling, i-,,, i dont want to do this either. but this hatred for him-your anger- i dont want you to live with this! this might not show now but it will affect you in the future with a-a future family! he will drag you down but if you just--- just talk to him once! just once-’

natsu banged a fist on the table and you gasped at the sudden sound

‘HE WANTED YOU TO KILL ME’

he shouted, anger and rage reeking from his spot across you

‘HE LEFT YOU TO FEND FOR YOURSELF BECAUSE HE WAS TOO MUCH OF A DAMN COWARD TO OWN UP TO A CHILD HE HELPED MAKE. OH SO WHAT- ALL BECAUSE HE JUST WANTED TO SCREW? A FUN TIME THEN THROW YOU-US- AWAY? NAH, MA, WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO MEET SOMEONE WHO NEVER WANTED ME IN THE FIRST PLACE?’

you gulped because right now, you were able to see the similarity to his father

‘he just wants to see you-to talk to you’

‘BUT WHAT ABOUT ME? I DONT WANT TO SEE HIS FCKING FACE BECAUSE IF I DO, I MIGHT PLUMMET HIM TO THE GROUND’

‘natsu, please stop yelling at me’

you pleaded and he stared at you angrily but turned his gaze back to the chicken bites

‘every thought of him makes me angry so if i see him, i will lose every control i have. hes nothing but a stranger to me-wait, no, hes like dirt that deserves nothing but bad luck to come his way. its either he wanted me or cant have me. and he chose wrong so hes going to have live with it for the rest of his life and pretend i dont even exist. and thats that’

you ran your hands on your face then closed your eyes

‘natsu, you dont understand, we-- we were children! i was still a student! we didnt know,, we didnt know anything about babies! i-i feel like shite because i brought upon this rage in you towards him, your father! i want to make things right! to make peace!’

‘DO YOU THINK I NEVER SAW THE TIMES YOU SAT ON THIS SAME FCKING TABLE, LOOKING AT THE BANK ACCOUNT AND CRYING BECAUSE WE WOULDNT HAVE ENOUGH FOR FOOD TOMORROW? OR-OR WHEN YOU BEGGED-BEGGED- YOUR BOSS FOR MORE SHIFTS SO YOU COULD MAINTAIN A ROOF OVER OUR HEAD? YOU THINK I DONT SEE THAT SHITE?! BECAUSE I DO! I SEE IT AND IT STILL GIVES ME NIGHTMARES TO THIS DAY BECAUSE I COULDNT DO ANYTHING TO HELP YOU! I JUST SAT THERE AND LET YOU SUFFER IN SECRET BECAUSE I WAS JUST A CHILD! AND DO YOU KNOW WHO’S AT FAULT WITH ALL OF THIS?! HIM! HES THE REASON WHY YOU SHED EVERY BLOOD, EVERY SWEAT, AND EVERY TEAR! ITS BECAUSE OF HIM I NEVER SEE YOU BECAUSE YOURE BUSTING YOUR ASS AT WORK FOR ME! ITS BECAUSE OF HIM THAT I PLAY LIKE MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT SO I CAN BE SCOUTED AND EARN MONEY FOR US IN THE FUTURE! HIM! ALL HIM!’

angry tears were falling down his face and you stood up to hold him but he shot up

‘natsu-baby-please calm-’

‘WHO DOES THAT TO A CHILD’

his voice cracked and he hiccuped

‘IT DIGUSTS ME THAT I SHARE THE SAME BLOOD AS HIM AND I AM MADE WITH 50% OF HIM! AND I SEE THAT LOOK IN YOUR EYES BECAUSE I REMIND YOU OF HIM, DONT I? I HATE THAT! HE DID THAT TO YOU!’

you held on to him and tried to tell him to calm down because you knew how distructive he could be

‘I HATE HIM. AND I CANT BELIEVE YOURE TRYING TO CONVINCE ME TO SEE HIM. HOW COULD YOU’

maybe it mustve been the stress from midterms and the competitions but his heart was hammering and he could see nothing but red and feel nothing else but anger running through his veins

‘no, dumpling, youre misunderstanding because i-’

but he swatted your hand away, eyes staring at his shoes

‘i need to get away right now. just- i’ll be at katsuki’s house. dinner was good so thanks’

he mumbled and rushed to the hallway, picking up his gym bag and quickly slipping on his shoes

you ran to the door and held on to him

‘natsu we can talk this out! please! dont go! just stay-’

he shut his eyes to calm himself down before turning and giving you a soft kiss on your forehead

‘ill be back tomorrow. just let me go blow off some steam, kay, ma?’

but he didnt even give you an answer because he was already out the door

--

the walk from his apartment complex to katsuki’s house should’ve only taken nearly 10 minutes but he was so pre-occupied and distracted that he ended up missing the turns and ended up in an unfamiliar street

based on his surroundings, he was in the city but he remained his gaze on his shoes, just walking and walking, not stopping

this caused him to miss the stoplight and he was the only person who continued walking, the shouts and yells from the pedestrians falling deaf on his ears 

but it finally opened up with a loud honking and a bright light that made him freeze in shock until it collided with him, sending him flying and falling unconscious

---

natsu groaned, not because of the pain but because of the bright light

‘oh god, i died and im going to the light’

he mumbled but a frantic shout made his eyes fully open up

‘NO DONT GO TO THE LIGHT! OH GOD! I JUST KILLED SOMEONE!’

natsu turned to the direction of the voice and he jumped then rolled over to get away but indeed, the pain from the collision stopped him

‘ugh’

he groaned and winced

‘hey, hey, you okay?’

the high-pitched voice asked and natsu raised his head to see the boy with orange hair kneeled down in front of him and hands hovering over him

‘i feel,,, ugh’

natsu sniffed and the boy helped him sit up so he could fully look around

‘where am i?’

he asked and the boy shuffled to kneel down beside him

‘japan. sendai. oh, im hinata shoyo by the way! so sorry i hit you with my bike!’

but natsu’s jaw dropped

‘hinata,,, shoyo?’

his eyes widened and he completely forgot about the pain as he stood on his feet, pointing at the tangerine

‘OLYMPICS!’

he shouted and he was getting scared, eyes drifting to everywhere and pacing in circles

‘did i,,,, no, that doesnt happen. damn izuku wouldnt shut up about doctor who. its not possible, just not! right?!’

hinata was now panicked and thought he really messed up the guy in the head because the h/c boy was now walking in circles, murmuring angrily, and face switching expressions every millisecond

‘oh my god, i need to take you to the hospital! i messed you up!’

hinata frantically grabbed his phone but natsu jumped and grabbed the device

‘no. no, its fine. i just-,,,, i dont remember anything’

natsu played and hinata’s eyes got even wider

‘OH MY GOD I REALLY DID SOMETHING WORSE!’

but natsu placed his hands on his idol’s shoulders to calm him down

‘no hospital, no needles, no medics. just,,, call your emergency contact or something’

it was quite funny that the victim had to console the cause of the accident but hinata nonetheless complied and hit the call button

‘your mom?’

natsu asked but hinata shook his head

‘no. my team manager, l/n y/n. she’d know what to do’

but natsu’s brain exploded

‘l/n,,,, y/n?’

my ma?

oh god i really did mess up

this is going to be a whole mess and i can already feel it but yanno what? imma just go with the flow and go through with your guys’ thoughts and ideas so in a way, you can control (??) the story?? idk i really dont know what im doing but i just needed to put this into writing bc ive been thinking about it since i woke up. also, do you think i should write this in a headcanons way or normal writing way?

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 7/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

“Thought I’d find you out here.”

The balcony door slides shut behind Maddie, muffling the laughter and chatter coming from her apartment. 

“Just like last time,” Buck says. He smiles as she sits down next to him on the bench, throws an arm around her shoulders as she curls into his side. It’s a cool night, but he’s warm from the apartment and the champagne they’ve been drinking (“no liquor during the season” rule be damned), so it’s nice. Nicer still now that Maddie’s here.

“Yeah, but this time is a lot happier,” she says.

It’s true. Four years ago, they were in this same spot at the opposite end of the emotional spectrum — neither going to the Games, Buck with a busted leg, and Maddie without a partner after Doug placed full blame on her for not making the team and dropped her. They’d stayed out all night talking, saying their worst fears and insecurities — about the offseason, the next Olympic cycle, the rest of their careers — into the night, hoping the breeze would take them away and make them feel better. It didn’t, not once the sun came up, but for a while, they could pretend.

Now they sit in the silence that they so often find themselves in together, washed in the lights hanging around the balcony and the sounds of their friends — their family — celebrating inside. They’re in a bubble of happiness now that neither of them wants to break before they have to.

“It doesn’t feel real yet,” Buck says finally. “It still feels like tomorrow Bobby’s gonna call me into his office and say that there’s been a mistake.”

Maddie shakes her head. “There’s no mistake. You earned that spot. We all did.”

Buck rests his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m really proud of you.” She’s been his inspiration for as long as he can remember, the reason he stumbled into this sport that’s become his everything, and to see her dreams finally come true is in some ways better than his own. She was there for everything, exponentially more than their parents ever were, and he can’t even begin to think of how to repay her.

“I’m really proud of you too,” she says. “For everything, not just making the team.”

He blames the stinging in his eyes on the wind and kisses the top of her head as they fall back into quiet, enjoying the peace of the night for a little while longer before rejoining the party inside.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck basically lives at the rink for the next 15 days, even manages to sleep there a couple nights in a row before Eddie drags him back to his place for actual rest. Every day there’s something new he finds — a jump that needs a cleaner landing, an edge that needs to be deeper, a spin that needs to go faster. Little bits that add up to less than perfect, and they’re putting him more and more on edge as the days tick by. He’s got other responsibilities too — press packages, photoshoots, commercials, interviews — and it’s all a whirlwind, flying past him before he can get a chance to really wrap his head around it all. He’s dreamed of this moment for years, of being able to represent his country and see his face in commercials credited as Olympian, and it’s every bit as gratifying and incredible as he’d hoped, he just wishes everything would slow down for a minute so he can actually enjoy it. 

But it all just keeps moving, so he takes everything as it comes and tries to live in the moments as much as he can, to live in the positives instead of worrying about the negatives that are threatening to crack him if he thinks about them for too long.

The whirlwind turns into a hurricane once they land in Beijing — as soon as they’re through customs, there’s flashbulbs and reporters shouting at them in multiple languages, fans pushing through the crowd for their own photo ops. Eddie’s got that caged animal look in his eyes again as they make their way to the exit, so Buck grabs his hand and squeezes, lets him know he’s still here, they’re here together, and he’ll shove through the crowd to get them out if he has to.

He hopes someone gets a picture of the smile Eddie gives him. He wants it printed and framed and hung on his wall where he can always see it.

The Olympic Village itself is like a luxury apartment complex — 15 high rise buildings with smaller ones around them, housing dorms for every athlete, cafeterias, workout rooms, a general store, even a post office. They have just enough time after the tour to drop their bags in their rooms before they’re whisked off to the Olympic Park to get their credentials and a first look at the skating arena. It looks like any other arena on the outside — big, industrial, a looming presence over the rest of the buildings — but it’s what’s going to happen inside, or what might not happen, that makes it feel all the more imposing, like it’s waiting to swallow everyone whole.

They’re all at dinner when he really starts to feel overwhelmed. As much as he wants to talk with the team and mingle with friends and acquaintances he hasn’t seen in years, he feels twitchy and uncomfortable and everything is just the wrong side of loud. He excuses himself, blaming jet lag and an early workout session, and he ignores Eddie’s concerned gaze as he makes his way back to their room. He flops onto the bed, the only light coming from the dim lamp on the nightstand and the view of the city skyline from their balcony, and he tries to get himself to relax, to settle the electricity jumping all over him.

He doesn’t notice Eddie come in the room until he feels the bed shift, sees him crawl up his body until they’re face to face, Eddie’s arms bracketing his head as he gently rests his weight on Buck.

“You okay?” he asks.

Buck shrugs, hands coming up to rest on Eddie’s hips. “None of this felt real before today, and now we’re here and...I don’t know, it’s almost too real. It’s a lot to take in.”

Eddie hums and leans down, places a feather light kiss in between Buck’s eyebrows where he knows he scrunches up when he’s upset. “Do you need anything from me?”

Buck threads a hand through Eddie’s hair, firm so he doesn’t go too far. “You,” he says, because it’s true — Eddie’s the only thing he wants to see or feel or think about until he feels settled in his own skin again. “Just need you.” He pulls Eddie down and kisses him, unhurried, wanting to take his time and get lost in it, will his brain to shut off and just be. Eddie drops down to his elbows, pushing them even closer together, and Buck gasps softly as their cocks brush together, both of them well on their way to hard. Eddie takes the opportunity to lick into Buck’s mouth and Buck melts, sure it’ll only take a few minutes like this for him to come in his pants like a teenager.

But that’s the opposite of what he wants right now, so he flips them both over until he’s straddling Eddie’s hips and starts kissing down his neck, his hands finding the hem of his t-shirt and slowly pulling it up and off. He takes his time, savors the way Eddie’s breath stutters as Buck swirls a tongue around his nipple, chases the blush moving down his chest with open mouth kisses. Eddie tugs at his shirt, and Buck is more than happy to oblige, stripping it as he moves back up to kiss Eddie again, deeply, soundly, relieved that he can feel the crackling anxiety tone itself down, turn into simmering want instead as he tastes more and more of Eddie.

“Lube?” Buck asks, because Eddie’s hot under his hands and his pants are feeling more than tight and he needs to be in Eddie right now or he’s going to lose it.

“In my bag,” Eddie says, kissing down Buck’s jaw and working his pants down.

“And condoms?”

He feels Eddie smirk into his skin. “I think there are some in that welcome basket they gave us.”

Buck thanks whoever’s listening that those rumors were true. He only trips a little bit as he gets up and grabs everything and strips the rest of the way. When he turns back, Eddie’s stripped too, miles and miles of skin laid out on the bed and Buck’s certain he’s glowing and it’s not just his imagination this time and— 

“God you’re gorgeous.” It’s worth it to see Eddie’s blush get impossibly deeper and move further down his chest.

He kisses Eddie again, a little more frantic, slicking up his fingers and swallowing the moan Eddie lets out when he starts rubbing at his entrance. He works his way in slowly, with every intention of still taking his time, but Eddie’s sighing into his mouth, an unconscious string of “please please please” tumbling out with it, and Buck doesn’t want to deny Eddie anything, ever, as long as he can help it. He moves faster, working in a second finger, then a third, scissoring Eddie open until he’s shaking and panting underneath him.

“Come on, Buck, please—” Buck cuts him off with a searing kiss, pulling away long enough to tear the condom open and roll it on, and then he’s kissing Eddie again and pushing into him, and he’s hot and tight and perfect, and Buck almost blacks out. He picks up a rhythm, steady but not teasing, and tastes every part of Eddie he can reach — his jaw, his neck, his chest, his shoulders and back again. Eddie’s everywhere, completely surrounding him, and he chases his orgasm as it builds in his gut, finesse and any attempt at taking his time quickly forgotten. He can tell Eddie’s close too, feels him clenching down around him, and Buck gets a hand on Eddie’s cock between them, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Eddie bites down on Buck’s shoulder as he comes, spilling hot onto Buck’s hands and on their stomachs, and it only takes a few more thrusts for Buck to follow, the edges of his vision whiting out with the force of it. 

He drops down just enough to bury his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck as they both come down, still wanting — needing — to be surrounded by him. When he can finally breathe again, he pulls out and makes his way to the bathroom, throwing out the condom before finding a washcloth in a cabinet. Eddie’s half asleep when he gets back, but perks up as Buck cleans them both up and manhandles him until they're both under the covers. The bed is on the smaller side to fit two full grown men, but it’s all the more excuse for Buck to plaster himself to Eddie, an arm thrown firmly over his chest and their legs tangled together. 

They lay in the quiet, the only sounds coming from the city below, and Buck finally feels calm, or at least calm enough that his mind’s not racing. His eyes get heavier and heavier, lulled by Eddie’s breathing underneath him and the random shapes he can feel him trace on his back.

“Still okay?” Eddie whispers, stopping his drawing and wrapping his arm around Buck fully.

Buck nods and closes his eyes. “Still just need you.”

Eddie kisses his forehead and whispers, “I’m not going anywhere.” Buck falls asleep with a smile on his face and I love you echoing in his head.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Team USA, get ready, you’re up next!”

Everyone around Buck starts jumping and cheering, hustling toward the exit to get ready for their march in the Parade of Nations. It was almost easy to forget that’s why they’ve been waiting in the bowels of the stadium for two hours in the first place — watching the performances on TV screens placed around the room didn’t quite translate to the fact that they too would be out there soon enough, decked out in full red, white, and blue, waving at the fans and supporters that have traveled from all over the world to watch them compete. It’s how Buck’s watched the opening ceremony ever since he was a kid anyway — glued to the TV, trying to pick out his favorite skaters from other countries as they marched through, picturing himself there so clearly he could practically feel the wind on his face, hear the roar of the crowd so loudly it was like the were in his living room.

It was a fantasy then, but it’s reality now, and Buck wishes he could go back and tell his six year old self that he will get here, and it will feel every bit as amazing as he imagined it would.

By the time they make it to their seats, Buck’s arms feel heavy from waving for five straight minutes, his cheeks hurt from smiling in a million different selfies, and he’s shivering in his designer Team USA uniform.

He wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

There’s some more performances about unity and peace and everything else the Olympics are supposed to represent, until finally, a torchbearer runs into the stadium, carrying the Olympic flame that’s made its way here all the way from Athens. They pass it to the final torchbearer, a decorated Chinese speed skater, who runs it up the short hill to the cauldron, lighting it from below. The flames grow and fireworks go off, people start cheering and dancing around him again, and for all the pinching himself he’s had to do since they announced the team, this is the most real thing he’s felt and may ever feel. The flame in him is blazing too, ready to be set free, and it burns brighter still when he looks to Eddie, his smile wide and his eyes sparkling. In all his wildest dreams, he never imagined being at the Olympics with someone who makes him feel like he’s already won something, but now that he is, that desire to win just keeps growing, fueling the flame more and more.

He kisses Eddie’s cheek and joins in on the celebration. They’ll party tonight and into the morning, but then, it’s back to business.

He’s here for a medal, and whatever the next two weeks try to throw his way, he is not going home empty handed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m gonna throw up.”

“There’s still four teams before they skate, Buck.”

“Perfect, plenty of time to throw up.”

Eddie just shakes his head and focuses back on the ice as the Russian team hits their final pose. As each team gets their scores and doesn’t monumentally fuck up, Buck gets more and more nervous for Maddie and Chim. It’s not that he doubts them, it’s more like he doubts the entire scoring system — they’re only in first by two tenths of a point after the rhythm dance, and anyone could pull ahead enough to beat them at the last minute.

He knows they’ll be amazing. They’re always amazing. Their win just depends on whether or not the judges agree with him today.

The final group comes out to warm up, and Buck and Eddie are on their feet, flags waving high above their heads and cheering with the rest of the supporters’ section. Maddie and Chim spot them from the ice and wave before quickly schooling themselves back into performance mode. They look incredible — Chim in all black and Maddie sparkling in her gold dress — and Buck’s stomach clenches again in the hope that she’ll have a matching medal when it’s all over. 

He feels Eddie nudge him as they sit back down. “You still with me?”

Buck smiles at him and it’s easy, real, despite the nerves still swimming around in him. “Just thinking about how this reminds me of our first date.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “Autumn Classic was not our first date.”

“It kind of was,” Buck says, shrugging.

“You barely wanted me there, if I remember correctly. Plus May was there too.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t perfect.”

“No,” Eddie says, slipping his hand into Buck’s. “But I think this date makes up for it.”

They fall into an easy running commentary after that, and it’s enough to distract Buck and keep his anxiety at bay. If he tries, he can pretend they are at Autumn Classic again, where the stakes were lower and anything felt possible. It makes him a little less nervous for Maddie and Chim, and a little less nervous for himself, too. The mens’ event starts tomorrow, and it’ll be his turn to get on the ice and prove himself to the judges and most of the world watching from home. If he just keeps pretending it’s the beginning of the season — and not the potentially crushing end — maybe he’ll be able to keep it together.

The announcer introduces Maddie and Chim, and seeing them on the ice, looking confident and excited and ready, settles Buck even more. Their program is classic — classic music, classic costumes — but still fun and technically top notch and undeniably them, and the audience is mesmerized from the very first steps. They hit every line, every pose, every lift, and by the time they transition from the soft tones of “Fever” to the ripping guitar of “Burning Love”, the audience is all in, clapping along to the beat and loudly cheering them on. They hit their final pose, and the whole arena is on their feet, and louder still once they get their final score.

Buck’s not great at math, but he’s pretty sure the last team will need a miracle to beat them.

He holds his breath anyway, right up until the end, until the final team’s score is announced, and Maddie and Chim are officially gold medalists. It’s a blur of celebrating after that, but everything clears enough for Buck to get a perfect view of the medal ceremony and Maddie and Chim’s faces, beaming with joy and slight disbelief, even as the medals are slipped over their heads. 

Buck’s proud, unbelievably so, and happy beyond belief for his sister, but the nerves are churning in him even faster, because now it feels like there’s a precedent, an expectation that he and the rest of Bobby’s skaters will do as well as their teammates. He’s always aiming for gold, but now it feels like it’s necessary, like anything less will be devastating instead of just disappointing. And then what about Eddie? He wants to win just as much as Buck, and Buck wants him to do well, but they can’t have a tie, one of them is going to do better than the other. And won’t that make it all the more heartbreaking when it’s not Buck that comes out on top?

He shoves all that away for now as he and Eddie fight their way through the crowd and down to the green room, because it’s too much and it doesn’t matter, at least not today. What matters is that Maddie is running into his arms, still happy crying, and he lets himself be completely wrapped up in her joy.

He’s proud of her. That’s one thing he knows for sure. That’s what he focuses on and hopes it’s enough to keep the voices quiet until tomorrow.

[demonfox38]

Completed - Baba is You

I can't believe this is the first game I've perfected on Steam.

Like, I don't like achievement systems in video games, okay? I prefer to set my own goals. Sure, there are some achievements that are interesting, like learning to use a certain mechanic in a cool or efficient manner, visiting hidden rooms, or even running around with nothing but my character's default busted sword just to prove a point. Mostly, I just want to finish them. I don't go jumping through flaming hoops because I want people to think I'm cool. I'm from Iowa. I'm critically uncool by design.

If a game is good, I will put in the extra work. Like, getting 100% souls in "Castlevania: Aria of Souls" and 200.6% map completion in "Castlevania: Symphony of the Night" is now just routine for me. With "Baba is You"? Well, circumstances are just a teeny bit different.

"Baba is You" is a puzzle game from independent developer Arvi Teikari. Your primary goal in the game is to create statements out of nouns, verbs, and conditions and use those generated rules to complete levels. It's basically catnip to programmers. These puzzles are packaged in cute, scribbly animations and gentle music. Ultimately, its soft presentation is the figurative sheep's clothing under which the wolf of this game lives, dragging its players through increasingly more complex situations, sitting there, laughing, its whole world wiggling in its adolescent mockery of you and your sluggish brain.

You're not always even Baba. I know. The absolute betrayal.

I originally saw this game being streamed back in 2019. A frustrating feeling overtook me as I watched the player work through the puzzles. I could feel myself solving them before she could, and it was making me itch. I didn't want to have any more spoiled without giving it a shot myself, so I purchased the game, put in a few hours, and then dropped it for two years. Hell, the major reason I came back to it was that I was babysitting my mom's very needy poodle, and I was more or less trapped on the couch with her during her entire stay. Had to do something. So, I decided this was it.

"Baba is You" really is the ultimate "Yeah, I'll get back to this" game. You know what I mean? There's always a handful of games that you make a little headway into, and then you think, "Yeah, I'll get back to this" and then drop it. I try not to be this way. Video games are expensive, and I want to get as much value as I can out of them. But man, does this game get overwhelming.

I mean, the TAS for a 100% run is currently around an hour and forty-five minutes. That's for 226 puzzles. That is a lot.

Granted, you don't have to finish every puzzle if you don't want to. The game can let you slide free with your first ending after completing only three subworlds on the main map. You know how many people get to that first ending? Like, we're talking maybe getting through 3 hours of gameplay or so. As of this posting, it's around 7.8% of all players on Steam. In comparison, here are first time ending numbers from other games I own on Steam:

"Bloodstained: Curse of the Moon" – 38% (Cleave the Moon)

"Trine" – 29.6% (Completed!)

"Dust: An Elysian Tale" – 23.9% (…And the Dust Settles)

"Fez" – 14.7% (Kill Screen)

"Psychonauts" – 13.2% (I Thought That Was Unbeatable!)

"Typing of the Dead" – 12.9% (Experimental Fiction)

"Final Fantasy VII" – 9.4% (End of Game)

That's right. From a percentage point of view, more players will put 80 hours into a 20+ year old RPG than 3 hours in this game. So, what's up with that?

At first, I wasn't struggling terribly with the game. I was making a pretty steady clip through it, stopping occasionally to check out the game's wiki. (BTW—view that on a laptop browser, not a mobile one. The background makes it hard to read some of the verbs and conditions.) My first tap-out in 2019 happened around the "Forest of Fall" block, when the game started introducing teleporting puzzles. My second brain-snap happened about 18 hours in the game when I accidentally created the phrase "Level is Key" in the puzzle "Fragile Existence," and then I realized that I could both create this level as Baba and had to create another level as a flag to win the overworld map.

And then there was a submap.

And another.

And another.

Holy crap, my brain was not ready for the mess that was Depths and Meta.

At one point, I stopped myself and reviewed why I was overcome with despair at my own stupidity. A part of it is yes, the game looks very cute, and the language used in the puzzles is very simple. So, when you don't get it, it's like saying you don't get "Sesame Street." And hey, maybe you wouldn't if it was in Mandarin and you only speak English. But, I did want to beat myself up for my sluggish responses and my growing feeling of helplessness. Why couldn't I beat the simple sheep game for babies? Was I really that stupid?

I think it helped to know what troubles I had my playthrough harder. This included:

Using text to push objects past barriers. (Yes, text exists in the world, and unless it's floating, you can use that text to move objects around. It's like hitting a car with a stop sign.)

Assuming attributes on an object that weren't actually assigned (i.e., assuming a door was locked or a wall would prevent me from moving through it, even if that wasn't the case.)

Manipulating text to double-layer nouns or break up commands by wedging an inactive/non-solid object in them. (See: Prison.)

Realizing that "you" doesn't always have to go to a certain destination. Sometimes, "you" just need to have something move over there or push something into where you want to go.

Remembering to use the "Wait" button to let moving objects finish their paths.

"Defeat" is a condition that applies only to "you", not objects in your possession. (They may instead be destroyed by "Sink").

Some rules need to be created and destroyed in the same turn.

Things that move on their own can be used to carry commands through obstacles.

Sometimes, you've just got to count your steps when you're taking an action and see if you can reduce them.

And granted, despite my stupidity, there were some puzzles that really clicked! I particularly enjoyed using the "Word" condition, as it allowed for me to treat both words and objects as a noun to make assignments. There were also times where I had to spell out the commands I wanted from letters left on the map. Fun! Natural! And hell, who doesn't enjoy a good block pushing puzzle, now and again? Super easy. Makes sense. Key is push, door is open. Of course!

Ass is Hot! Of course! (Wait, that wasn’t the solution...)

I tended to lock up more when the "Defeat" piece was on screen. I mean, you can always undo your mistakes, and there's no life limit or anything like that. But, hearing your player character go splat when you mess up is flinch-worthy. Additionally, I hated having to build complex paths for objects to follow. Like, screw the entirety of Adventurers. Also, learning what the "Lonely" condition meant felt very unnatural. It was hard to even tell why I was splatting until I read up on what it meant.

Interestingly, changing the language of the game only affects the menu's language, not the game itself. (I was wondering if adding a layer of comprehension to objects would stop me from auto-assigning properties to them or not. Makes sense that it's all in English, considering the "form objects from letters" puzzles.)

I felt bad when I finally gave up on putting effort into solving the puzzles on my own. I did. But, I was also 18 hours deep into my file in a single week, and I wanted to get back to my other hobbies. I felt that if I gave up on "Baba is You" again, I wouldn't finish it ever. And then, those 18 hours truly would be wasted. Also, I felt sick that only 7.8% of people had gotten to the first ending screen. The game isn't bad! It's hard, but not bad! I wanted to at least give it enough dignity to finish it off, even if I was more or less reading what I needed to build with one eyeball and building it with the other.

And hell. Given all of the version differences of this game and the amount of time that has passed since its release, it is a teeny bit YouTube proof. Not completely invulnerable, but I did catch a difference or two here and there. And it's not like the wiki's the clearest with what you need to do, even when they're telling you exactly what to do. You've got to mind your space with your words. At the very least, don't push anything aside or wreck it until you absolutely must.

I can't emphasize how much I felt bad about giving up. I mean, it's one thing to look at guides for other game types. You can get knowledge on how to beat a boss or level, but you've physically got to develop the skills needed to vault through that goal. With puzzle games, knowledge is 99% of what you need to accomplish your task. The rest is just putting in the solution as elegantly as possible.

92.2% of players didn't bother to do even that.

I won't pretend to say I know enough about puzzles to make an excellent puzzle game. However, I do think brevity would have helped this game. Like, think of puzzle games people like. "Tetris," right? Even a long game of "Tetris 64" lasts me a couple of hours at most. "Portal"? That's a handful of hours supported by plot and fun dialogue. So is the sequel. "Panel de Pon" / "Tetris Attack" / "Puyo Puyo"? Those are like "Street Fighter" arcade campaigns. Like, 15-20 minutes. To have a puzzle game go on for hours and hours without any character motivation or plot in sight? Yeah. That's going to burn a lot of people out.

Like, this game could have just the over world, a single hidden world, and then the Center portion, and that would have been more than enough. And then you know what could have been done with the rest of the puzzles? Put them in a new game! "Baba is More!" Bam! A second game, now with extra "Inception"-styled mind screws! Twice the money earned! (Yeah, okay. This plan might stink of capitalism.)

Making 226 puzzles is impressive. However, brevity is the soul of wit. Sometimes, design can be contradictory like that.

But, its achievements? Perfectly laid out. Truly finishing the game is likely to net you everything. I only had to put in a couple of hours after the true ending, and really, only fifteen minutes of that was solving the puzzles. The rest was just finding what I had missed. (I've heard rumors that "Baba is Baba" is bugged, but I think you just need to look up how to get the Level is Win solution in Meta figured out. The rest is elbow grease.)

I don't know if I can recommend this game. Again, having a case of the bad feels over that statement, especially since it seems like the developer has his heart in the right place. I'm hesitant to recommend this because when I was playing it, I had a migraine that lasted three days straight. Granted, there were possibly some external factors to why I had that. A fat polar vortex. Stress from work. Some hormonal influences. Not enough caffeine or water. Just generally living in the United States in the early 2020s. Plenty of things to crush my skull. I don't think it's in good taste to recommend something that will cause others physical pain. I mean, I'm used to games cracking my hands, but that's not exactly healthy behavior. I certainly wouldn't want to give someone an epileptic attack. Why would I want to drive a nail through their skulls, either?

I do think the game is solidly designed. It's a smart little cookie. But, it is unintentionally discouraging to get through, especially if you feel like you can't ask for help. Like getting a clue or an explanation is cheating.

Look. Try. Try hard. Be as honest and earnest as you can be. Just don't expect to do everything in your life alone, okay? I mean, there are times you've got to get an external perspective. I frequently had to crash after school with mathematics teachers and badger professors to explain topics outside of class. You think I was going to come up with how there are different kinds of infinities on my own? Hell no. I'm not creative in terms of mathematical proofs. But, I sure as hell can explain how different infinities work now! Even post-schooling, I still research topics, particularly when building or fixing things. I wouldn't have learned half of the things I've learned about maintaining game cartridges or building dollhouses without suggestions from professionals and enthusiasts. It's just part of life. You ask for help so you don't burn resources—especially something as valuable as time!

[florenceandthemachine]

TUMBLR FUCKED UP SOME OF MY ASK POSTS I AM SO SORRY ANYWAY 

@buckleydiazs​ asked:

talk to me about eddie and chris asking buck to move in, pls and thank u 🥰

Their first unplanned night together starts off with a text message.

Ironically enough, it’s not even a message between Eddie and Buck—it’s between Buck and Maddie. Eddie is all smiles as he pulls his truck onto the highway, Buck in the passenger seat, laughing easily at some story Eddie was telling. It was nice. It was easy, easier than most of the relationships Eddie had ever had before, but that wasn’t surprising—at least, not anymore, not with Buck.

Once Buck had gotten the stick out of his ass, Eddie realized how easily the two of them would get along almost immediately. Buck was... well, he was a far better person than Eddie was, and Eddie would be the first to admit that, but Buck seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he could basically out shine the sun with one of his big toothy smiles.

Their relationship was unique, certainly; they had survived things that went beyond the real of “regular people”; tsunamis, earthquakes, bombs, and most stressful of all (weirdly enough), a lawsuit. somehow, the lawsuit was the straw that broke the back on their friendship—Eddie had finally pulled his head out of his ass, realized how miserable his life had been without Bucky, and asked him out on a proper date a week after Buck's first call back on the team.

Though they spent a lot of time together as friends, and that had only grown after their first official ‘date’, they had been carpooling out of necessity for the week—Bobby had been good enough to match their schedules up while Buck’s Jeep was in the shop—and Eddie insisted that it wasn’t too much of a detour to shuttle Buck back and forth to work.

The mood in the truck was easy and light, and Buck was still laughing when he pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping at the screen a few times—and like someone had switched on a vacuum, the good mood was sucked through the window in less than a second.

“It’s Maddie. She says Taylor Kelly is at my apartment complex. Apparently there was a pretty big drug bust in the building across the way, she has her van camped out in our lot.”

And, well, Eddie wasn’t about to tolerate that, wasn’t about to tolerate anything that made Buck unhappy, anything that could suck the joy out of him in an instant, for reasons that he chose not to dive too deep into. He focused instead on the problem (and yeah, Taylor Kelly was a problem with a capital B), and what he figured was the easiest solution.

“Oh. Well, then you’re staying at our place tonight.”

As expected, Buck started up a whole litany of protests. It was a little sad, Eddie thought, how eager Buck was to talk himself out of a good time, and if he didn’t have the backup of a year of knowing Buck as well as he did, Eddie might have actually taken his ramblings at face value.

As it was, though, he had an ace in the hole. A surefire way to get Buck to shut up and accept some good in his life. He didn’t like to play it, but he knew that he had to as soon as Buck mentioned “I’ll just stay at the firehouse tonight, it’s really no issue, I’ll order take out, and—”

“Buck, it’s fine. Chris has been begging me to invite 'his Buck’ over for dinner for a week now anyway.”

“...oh. Okay.”

Was it wrong for Eddie to use his son so easily, knowing that Buck was as wrapped around Chris’ finger to the degree that nearly rivaled himself? Probably. Could Eddie bring himself to care? Nope.

Especially not when Chris basically launched himself into Bucks arms, completely overjoyed that Buck was here for a “surprise sleepover”. 

Dinner had gone off without a hitch, with Chris easily dominating most of the conversation, rattling off facts, figures, stories from school, information about his friends, and Buck had eaten it up. 

Eddie had found himself staring at Buck—more than once—with a little bit of a dopey look on his face, he was sure, as Buck got more and more animated, making Christopher laugh, telling stories of his own, and he hadn’t even bothered to look away when Buck caught him staring.

Buck was a blusher. Eddie loved it.

Now, though, Chris had disappeared to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas, and Eddie and Buck were working in companionable quiet as they started to clean the table.

"You know, if Taylor being at my apartment means I get to spend the evening with my two favorite guys...” Buck said with a smile, closing the fridge as he leaned against it, keeping an ear out for Chris as he turned the faucet in the bathroom on. “...I’ll have to invite her over next time.”

Eddie shrugged, gesturing vaguely with a spoon, though he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he rose a brow. “Buck, you know you don’t need excuses, right? You’re allowed to like this. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am as wrapped around your finger as you are Chris’s.”

Buck was blushing again, and that was all the encouragement Eddie needed to step forward, his arms wrapping around Buck as Buck started to speak again. “You... you know the feeling is mutual, right?” he asked, and Eddie felt himself light up. “And I... don’t really want to wait for a next time to spend some time with you either.”

Buck wasn’t sure which God was on his side, but either way, he was immensely thankful that Chris didn’t barge in until long after Eddie and Buck had separated, even if they were still breathing a little heavily.

--

The next unexpected visit, it turns out, was only four weeks and three planned dates later. 

Buck had had many a sleepless night after the tsunami, but after the lawsuit, his nightmares had become even worse, more intense, more real. There were nights where he had to tell himself, ten times, that Chris was okay, that he was alive, and then there were nights like tonight, where he let the fear outweigh the guilt and he called Eddie.

(It was probably telling that he was never afraid of his own death—only Chris’. If he had a therapist, he would probably bring that up, but... well, therapy had never been a great idea for Buck before.)

To his credit, Eddie hadn’t let it ring even twice before picking up. 

“Buck, Chris is okay. He’s okay. You saved him, Buck, and I can never thank you enough for that.”

“Ed—he was right there, and I lost him, and I—”

“He is okay. Buck, seriously, he’s okay. Here, you should come over. See for yourself?”

“What? No.” Buck may have been coming out of a nightmare, but even then, he knew not to risk disturbing Eddie more than he absolutely had to.

“Buck, whatever thoughts are swirling around in that head, you better, get your admittedly very attractive ass over here right now.”

...well, he couldn’t argue with that. 

Eddie could feel his heart break when he opened the door, though, and got an armful of puffy eyed, apologetic Buck in response. They quietly made their way over to Chris’ room and then to Eddies own, where he made no short work of Buck’s apologies, kissing him soundless every time he tried.

At the end of the night, Buck wasn’t sure what had helped him sleep better—seeing Chris alive and well, or spending his night in Eddie’s arms, wrapped up tight enough that he couldn’t break free even if he tried.

Not that he would.

--

“Hi Buck!”

“Hi Christopher!” 

Buck was all smiles as he swooped in to scoop Christopher into a big bear hug, leaning over to kiss Eddie’s cheek as he let Chris back down to the ground and they started walking back to the car. “How was school, buddy?” He asked, easily going into idle listening mode as Eddie’s hand slipped into his. It was an early release day for Christopher, and he had all but demanded that they spent the afternoon hanging out together—and it was moments like these that reminded Buck about how lucky he was, swinging his hand in Eddie’s like a teenager as they walked back to the car, Chris eagerly leading the way.

Honestly, if anything, the fact that a date night for Buck was now spending a night at the museum with his boyfriend and his kid (instead of in a club, or at a bar, or doing something he probably wouldn’t remember the next day) really was a testament to his own personal growth. No drinking, no drugs, no questionable sex with questionable people in questionable locations—just a nerdy firefighter and his kid.

Dinner consisted of hot dogs and pretzels and soda, and somehow Chris was outpacing them on energy as they wandered through the exhibits. Buck never quit being amazed at just how much Chris knew—hell, Buck was an adult and he still didn’t know the difference between a Monet painting and a Manet painting—but Chris was like the little brainiac Energizer bunny, his energy only weaning after they got home and demanded Buck read him two whole stories for bedtime, and Buck was feeling selfish enough to allow himself a few moments with Chris, sleeping on his shoulder, before he tucked the boy in for the night. 

“I’m gonna get going.”

“You don’t have to, you know?”

Eddie kept his voice low as Buck slid Chris’ door shut, his arms finding their way around Buck’s waist on autopilot, easily masking the twinge of annoyance he felt when Buck had the audacity to look surprised.

“What do you mean?”

If he ever met that Abby chick, he was going to give her a piece of his mind. 

“I mean you don’t have to leave. You can stay, sweetheart. I… well, I want you to stay, but I always want you to stay, so I’m a little biased. But you can stay as long as you want, whenever you want.” 

It was better, he hoped, to be direct, because Buck obviously didn’t get the hint after so many subtle cues. Hell, Eddie had given him a key after their third official date, and all Buck had commented was how glad he was to have it, in case of emergencies. Unfortunately, the fact that Buck seemed dumber then a box of rocks didn’t seem to count as an emergency. 

His argument seemed to be well received tonight, at least, because Buck smiled shyly as he looked up to Eddie, his own arms sliding around the other males shoulders. 

“You’re sure I won’t bother you and Chris, right? You really want me to stay tonight?”

“Of course I do.” Eddie said. For the rest of your life, he managed to keep inside. 

--

“Buck, you know you’re always welcome here, right?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“And you know we love having you here, and we generally hate it when you leave.”

“I get it, Eddie.”

“So you know—“

“Eddie, will you please let me in?”

If Buck wasn’t soaked head to toe, standing on Eddie’s doorstep, he’d probably start to think that the universe was playing a cruel joke on the both of them. It was certainly playing a cruel joke on Eddie, to be honest—they had finished a particularly grueling overnight shift just three hours ago, and he had all but begged Buck to come and get some rest at the house while Christopher was out with Carla that day, and Buck had politely but firmly refused, not wanting to trample on any of the time that he got to take for himself. It was driving Eddie crazy, to be honest—he had really thought that they had made progress on that front, that they had finally gotten to the point where Buck didn’t think he was intruding, or interrupting, or distracting, or whatever. He really had thought he had made his stance clear—that he always loved spending time with Buck, period. 

Well, he was certainly never one to back down from a challenge. 

“What even happened, Buck?”

“The pipe burst in the apartment above me. I got soaked through in the middle of a nap.” 

“Oh, Buck.”

“It’s not funny, Eddie! I was trying to be considerate!”

“Baby, I’m not laughing. I’m just very distracted by how good you look soaking wet.”

“Eddie, I swear to god—“

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“….oh. Oh!”

--

“I meant what I said, you know?”

“Hmm?”

They had gotten down to the lazy, delighted moments of the evening, standing together in the shower, Buck slotted easily into Eddies arms. They were taking advantage of the last twenty minutes they had together before Chris came home, and needless to say, neither of them were exactly jumping at the idea of wearing pants again.

“We love having you here, Chris and I. And we really do hate it when you leave because you think that you have to, or you think that you’re intruding, or you think… well, whatever else that you’re thinking.”

“Eddie…”

Buck turned in his arms, pushing his wet hair back, but Eddie smothered any chance of a self depreciating comment by pressing their lips together. He didn’t pull back until he knew Buck would be breathless, panting, and dazed, and it probably wasn’t fair to fight that way, but Eddie couldn’t handle another comment about how much of a bother Buck perceived himself.

“You’re home to me, Buck. Chris too. He loves you and he looks up to you, and you drive me crazy thinking that you could be anything but welcome in our lives. Buck, I want you to move in with us. Stay. Forever.”

There was a time and a place where Buck’s self doubt would have run rampant faced with a confession like that—hell, Buck 1.0 wouldn’t even have allowed a relationship to get that far—but somehow, looking up at Eddie, nothing could be more perfect. 

“You’re home to me too, Eddie.” He started, softly, a smile on his face. “And if you and Chris really wouldn’t mind—“

“It’s not just that we wouldn’t mind, though. It’s what we want. We want you to live with us, sweetheart.”

“… well, I’ve never been good at denying anything my Diaz boys want, have I?”

--

(Over dinner, Buck had nervously approached the topic with Chris, because no matter how sure Eddie was, Buck had to hear it for himself. 

Chris got so excited he almost threw up. 

Eddie considered everything about that night as a win—but the best part of all was the price, Buck, beautiful Buck, waiting for him in his—no, in their bed.)

[falcqns]

Baby Bird

Summary: Something bad happens to Adela’s mom, and she goes to two former Directors for help.

Warnings: blood, kidnapping,

Chapter One:

Adela couldn’t be more thankful when her Psychology class was finished. As much as she loved the class, she had had a bad feeling about going that day, and it had yet to subside. The stress of making sure her grades were high enough to get into the police academy certainly wasn’t helping either. Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out to see a text from her best friend, Kariesha.

‘Agriculture running late, wanna meet up after dinner and hang for a bit?’ it read. Adela smiled, and texted back that she’d see her then, and to text her when she was ready. She tried calling her mom Bobbi, and her step dad Hunter, both who didn’t pick up. She thought nothing of it, and continued on her journey home.

She noticed a black van pulling out of the apartment complex parking lot, and once again, thought nothing of it. She grabbed her things as soon as her car was parked and headed inside with the full intention of watching Friends until dinner time. Those plans were shattered, however, as soon as she saw the apartment.

It was covered in blood. There was blood on the floor, on the couch, on the walls, even on the ceiling. She dropped her things and called Kariesha.

“Hey, what’s up? I just got out of class,” She said, but before she could say anything else, Adela cut her off. “Somethings wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Kariesha said.

“My mom and dad aren’t picking up their phones, and the apartment is covered in blood.” She rasped out, the fear and shock hitting her, causing her emotions to boil over. “I-I think something bad happened.”

She heard rustling of Kariesha’s car keys. “I’m on the way. Stay on the phone with me.”

Adela nodded as the tears began to pour down her face. “Ok-kay,”

“Did you check the security cameras?”

“N-no, but I will,” Adela said, and ran to her parents room, where the security camera monitor was. She logged in, and all her breath left her body when she watched the latest footage.

Her parents were sitting on the couch, watching TV, when some men in all black busted through the door, and held her parents at gun point. She watched as they immediately tried to take down who Adela could only assume to by Hydra. Adela watched as her mother glanced around the living room and kitchen for her batons, before realizing they were in her bedroom, and she had to fight without them.

“Adela? What’s happening?”

Adela put the phone on speaker. “T-they got attacked! I think it was Hydra but I dont know. They tried to fight them off but mom didn’t have her batons, so all she could do was hand to hand combat. Hunter tried too, but they got him.” Adela sobbed out. “They got mom too. They dragged them out of the apartment!”

She heard Kariesha stop the car, and get out before running. “Okay, I’m on my way. Stay where you are!” Kariesha said, and moments later, she bust through the bedroom door where Adela was, her eyes pinned to the monitor. She ran over and wrapped her arms around her. “We have to call the police.” To which, Adela immediately protested.

“No. We cant call the police,” She pulled out of Karieshas embrace, and wiped her tears. “Help me! Mom told me that if something like this ever happened, my S.H.I.E.L.D. file would tell her everything I needed to know. My health records, birth certificate, important contacts, all of them. We should contact Coulson.”

They started to move around the room, and look for the file. Kariesha started in the closet, while Adela pulled her mothers batons out from under the bed. ‘Might need those at some point,’ she thought to herself. She felt around under the mattress, and found a yellow folder with her name on it.

“I got it!” She told Kariesha, and they sat on the floor and opened it up.

Adela Morse

Mother: Barbara “Bobbi” Morse

Father: Clinton “Clint” Barton

Step Father: Lancelot “Lance” Hunter

Parents Maritial Status:

Bobbi Morse, Clint Barton: Divorced

Bobbi Morse, Lance Hunter: Married

Clint Barton, Laura Barton: Married

Siblings:

Cooper Barton

Lila Barton

Nathaniel Barton

Emergency Contacts:

Kariesha Blackwood - (456)-768-0912

Gemma Simmons - (909)-871-0235

Daisy Richarson - (912)-345-8720

Phil Coulson - (109)-231-3456

“You have siblings?” Kariesha said, pulling the file from Adela’s hands. “I had no idea.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Me either. Who’s Clint Barton?” You asked looking down at your file. Kariesha’s head snapped up at you. “Dude, that’s Hawkeye.”

Your jaw dropped. “My dad is Hawkeye?!” You exclaimed. “YES OH MY GOD HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW THAT!” Kariesha screamed at her. “I DIDNT KNOW HIS ACTUAL NAME! I’M NOT OBSESSED WITH THE AVENGERS LIKE YOU ARE!”

“WHY ARE WE YELLING?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

Adela smiled at Kariesha before looking at the file again. “I think Coulson is our best option.”

“Does he know Clint personally?” Kariesha asked.

Adela shook her head. “No, he was more involved with my mom’s old team. As far as I know Nick Fury was personally involved with the Avengers, but Phil knows Fury, so that’s my best bet at this point. He’s retired, so lets just hope his number is the same,” Adela explained, as she got up to grab her phone. “Hopefully he can help us.” She said, as she dialled his number.

“Hello?” Coulson answered, after 3 rings.

“Hi, Uncle Phil, it’s Adela.” She said. Kariesha looked at her best friend in amazement. Adela never really shared the details of her parents work, especially when they met. They were both in Grade One, and had gotten lockers next to eachother. Kariesha told her what her mom did for work, but when she asked Adela, all she could say was ‘I’m not supposed to say’. Her mom and stepdad left S.H.I.E.L.D. a few years later, but Adela still rarely opened up about her parents careers.

“Hi, honey, is everything okay? I haven’t heard from you for a while.” He said, and Adela smiled. Her parents had tried to stay involved in the teams lives for her sake, but things got in the way. However, whenever they did get to see eachother, it was like not a day had passed.

“N-no, everything’s not.” Adela said, her emotions bubbling over once more. “I came home today, and Mom and Hunter weren’t here. There’s blood everywhere, and when I-I checked the camera’s I saw them being dragged out of the apartment by Hydra.” She said, a stray tear falling down her cheek.

“Okay. What do you want to do?” He asked her, and Adela thought about it for a moment.

“C-Can you get me in contact with my father?” She asked timidly, unsure if her uncle would be able to help.

“Of course. Let me get a hold of Tony, okay? It should only take a few minutes, so I’ll call you back.” He said, and they said their goodbyes before hanging up.

“What do we do now?” Kariesha asked, once Adela’s phone was in her pocket. Adela’s eyes landed on the Canon camera in her parents closet. “Pictures. We should take pictures of the apartment as evidence. We should also download the footage off the computer, it might help us find them.” Kariesha nodded, and immediately moved to the computer, while Adela busied herself with taking evidence photos. ‘It’s a good thing that we’ve already covered this in class.’ Adela thought. She and Kariesha worked diligently for a few more minutes, when her phone rang again.

“Hey kiddo, I got a hold of Tony. He said that he’s more than willing to help, and was wondering if you could meet with him today at the compound?” Adela felt her heart fill with hope.

“Yes, of course. I-Is my father going to be there?” She asked, her heart beating in her chest.

“As far as I know, he lives on a farm with his wife and other children, but there is a possibility he could be there. Do you want Tony to make sure he’s not?” Phil asked.

Adela shook her head even though he couldnt see her. “No, it’s okay. I was just wondering is all.”

Coulson gave her the address and other information they would need, and Adela was off, with Kariesha in her passenger seat.

“I can’t believe we’re going to meet Iron Man!” Kariesha said, practically vibrating in the seat next to her. Adela chuckled. “That’s not why we’re here, though. We’re here to find my parents, and maybe meet my father in the process.” The second part of that statement gave her huge butterflies in her stomach to think about. She knows for sure he doesn’t know she exists, and that terrifies her. What if he denies helping her because he doesn’t believe that she is his? What if he doesn’t want to have a relationship because of what happened between him and her mother?

These thoughts continued to swirl in Adela’s head, and before she knew it, she had arrived at the Avengers compound, where Tony was waiting outside for her. She put her car in park, and took a deep breath before climbing out. She waited for Kariesha to walk around the car with the camera and flash drive in hand, her S.H.I.E.L.D. file in Adela’s own. They made their way over to Tony.

“Hello, Adela, right?” Tony asked, sticking his hand out to her. Adela accepted it, and nodded.

“Yes. Thank you for meeting with me. I’m sorry about the short notice, but I didn’t know who else to turn to,” She said, as Tony greeted Kariesha and the trio walked inside. Tony gave them a quick tour, before heading towards the conference rooms.

Once they were all seated in the conference room, Tony looked over the evidence they had brought him, as well as watched the footage.

“Wow. Okay.” He said, once he had finished. “So, from my observations, it was definitely Hydra. I’m assuming you had the same observations?” He asked, and Adela nodded. “Okay.”

Tony pondered the next steps before speaking. “So, Coulson said that you were hoping to get into contact with Clint, and I think that’s a great idea. I’m also going to involve Natasha, because she was also a spy. Bucky and Sam are away on a mission at the moment, Thor is somewhere in space with the Guardians, and Rhodes is god knows where right now. I’d involve Wanda, but she seems to have her handful with whatever the fuck is happening in Westview. So I think Clint and Natasha are our best bet at the moment.” Tony finished.

Adela nodded before Tony continued.

“When I read over your file, I noticed that your mom had two different serums, a super soldier serum and the Infinity serum, so my guess is that you have those as well. We’ll have Bruce run some tests on you a little later. Do you have any one else you can stay with?” Tony asked, and Adela shook her head. She’d stay with Kariesha, but her mom didn’t have the room.

“Okay, perfect. We have an extra room here for you. Are you able to stay for emotional support?” Tony asked, turning to Kariesha, who shook her head. “Definitely not, sorry. Mom would have my head.” She said.

Tony nodded in amusement. “Okay. We’ll start small. How about you two move your stuff in here, and I’ll contact Clint?” The two girls agreed, and were on their way back to the apartment within 20 minutes.

Her phone vibrated from the centre console, and Kariesha checked it.

“Tony said he got a hold Clint, and Clint will be there soon. He doesn’t know what’s going on though.” Adela nodded in aknowledgement.

Now she was nervous.

[cheezritsu]

Atsumu Miya || Unravelling

[Uhn•rav•uhl] verb, informal. to take apart; undo; destroy

Warnings: implied sex, mentions of sex, quick depiction of self harming behaviors (not explicit.) Inspired by SZA’s Supermodel

It must be considered deviant and demonic how the constant the thud thud THUD! Rings out with an even pace in the hallway of Tokyo’s finest apartment complexes. If it weren’t for the fact that calling the police would no doubt result in a press field day none of the residents of Park Mansion Akasaka wanted, someone would have filed a noise complaint. It’s a shame they did not—perhaps there might be a certain clout that comes with exposing MSBY setter Miya Atsumu’s intimate life, but it would also have saved time, money, and tears in the long run.

But, the residents of the 9th floor could not see into the future. They were instead, attempting to mind their business and not be bothered by Miya trying to make back beats by fucking someone into a mattress.

That little comparison was Osamu’s first scathing critique, until he froze completely. The disgust melted into horror as he turned his head to his companion.

“Hey-,” he starts, but as he catches the expression, the words dry up.

Yes, it would have been nicer—no, merciful—if the residents of the 9th floor had called the police when this happened, if only to spare you from witnessing it yourself.

Your hands get so clammy, the plastic bag in your hand nearly slips out. You catch yourself before the beer bottles can shatter on the marble floor that costs more than your entire block. It’s an easy clean up, but it would probably be very sticky, and disastrous, you think. Almost as disastrous as—

It starts up again, rhythmic and constant like an orchestrated performance. You and Osamu are mere steps outside the apartment, and you can hear the manic, frayed screams coming from the walls. It sounds like they’re in pain; just the way Atsumu likes it.

“Y/N,” Osamu tries once again to get your attention. The pity in his voice is unmistakable, and you hate that of all the emotions the usually stoic twin shows you, this is the one he’s chosen. Pity. Sympathy.

“Guess that’s why he didn’t pick up the phone,” you remark casually, refusing to look Osamu in the eye. “I’ll just leave it by his door with a note.”

Osamu says your name, this time with a firm edge that demands attention. You don’t give it to him. You’re too busy trying not to actively throw the takeout and beer you bought out of your measly paycheck to help your friend (attachment, entanglement, dick appointment, are all better words than friend) feel better after a crushing defeat at the hands of the Saitama Spears. (Crushing, like his hands must be around her neck for the moans to sound so strangled.) No matter, you say to yourself, hands shaking as you send him a text. Something cute and sweet with a properly sickening amount of heart emojis, like any good (not quite) girlfriend would do. Whatever it takes.

Ignoring how the click of your heels mesh with the steady thrum of Atsumu’s two thousand yen headboard against his 100 million yen walls, you march back the exact way you came; down the white, sterile hallway and passed the doors that housed the rest of the 9th floor, who would, unknowingly, pay for the mistake of not asking the shameless Atsumu Miya to please, please keep his fucking at a tolerable volume. Fame and infamy come with perks, one supposes, but they also come with karma.

You’re not thinking of revenge, though. You’re wondering how you’ll make it to the elevator without completely coming apart at the seams. Something in you unravels, much like it might if Atsumu were playing you like the fool you were; perfectly manicured setter hands curling, scratching, plucking at all the right places. No, this unravelling is much slower, much more painful, as if the single thread that creates your existence is being snipped in half. When you push the call button for the elevator, you think the thread is severed completely, because you have to lean your head on the cold steel to steady yourself.

Osamu’s approaching footsteps really only register in the very depths of your mind. The heavy breathing doesn’t really sound like yours—how could it be anyways, when you were miles away from your body, floating in the ether like a ghost; forgotten, discarded, alone. Untethered.

You lift your head up only to bang it against the wall. The soft thud is reminiscent of the moment that just transpired, and you—subconsciously, like you were possessed—start bashing your forehead to the same piledriver waltz Atsumu had played.

“Y/N!” Pity. Bang! Worry. Bang! Sympathy. Bang! Could you crush your skull this way? The mystery woman’s screams tangle in your brain like an earworm, the salacious sounds on repeat. Bang!

When Osamu’s hand lands on your shoulders, it feels like he’s tethered your soul back into your body. You wrench yourself out of his grip.

“Don’t!-” you begin to scream, but you catch the look he gives you. His grey-brown eyes are wet with concern, darting between the growing red spot on your forehead to the watery snarl on your lips. You take a shuddering breath to keep the hysteria from bubbling into your tone. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

Osamu doesn’t even raise an eyebrow in pretence. His mask of neutrality and sarcasm is completely gone, replaced with anger. “You were banging your head into the wall like a patient in a psych ward.”

“That’s unnecessarily stereotypical, Osamu. I thought you were better than that.”

Crossed arms. He’s seconds away from blowing his lid. “Yer not funny.”

You wonder what would happen if Osamu blanked on you in here. Would these good-for-nothing neighbors actually call the police then? What a headline: Miya twins apprehended in two separate noise complaints. Kita would probably stop sending Osamu rice out of embarrassment.

You don’t want to fight Osamu anyways. It’s not his fault that the bearer of his face is fucking another girl as you speak.

The elevator dings, and you step inside. It’s fortunately empty. Osamu stands right next to you, hovering like an overprotective parent. The chrome doors of the elevator slide shut and you’re face to face with your own reflection: hollow, sunken eyes the most expensive concealer can’t fix; posture hunched from years of slaving over work and school; nails short and busted from part time jobs that barely pay the bills. Nails that have been raked down the chiseled, marble back of a man who didn’t belong to you, and never did.

Her nails were probably nicer. Probably manicured. Maybe he paid for it. You can’t even see your nails anymore, because your head is in your hands, shielding your ugly cries from Osamu, who bears the face of the man who doesn’t love you.

“I should have just taken the fucking hint,” you sniffle, wiping the running eyeliner from the corner of your eye. “Shoulda left him alone.”

Osamu just hums. You wished it was anyone else but him. Osamu isn’t bad at a lot of things, but comfort was one of them. He just stares vacantly at the doors, a grimace replacing his usual thin lipped look, but other than that he appears unbothered.

And then, like he’s reading condolences off a list, he says: “I’m sorry.”

The words in their sincerity sound foreign on his tongue. With one big sniff you pull the thread keeping you together tightly, gathering yourself. “What’re you apologising for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sorry my brother is a complete piece of shit.”

“Well, we both knew that, didn’t we.”

Osamu can’t place what he dislikes about that phrase, but the elevator interrupts his thought process. The doors open to reveal one of the security guards eying you two up and down. His eyes narrow for a moment on Osamu’s face, and then dip down to yours.

“There a problem here, Miya-san?”

On any other day he might have pulled a fast one on this guard, but you promptly walk out of the elevator, leaving Osamu to follow your lead wordlessly. The world outside the Park Mansion Akasaka is still turning, still bustling with people catching trains home from work, their patent leather shoes from office jobs clicking on the sidewalk to a rhythm you can’t match. The thud of the salarymen’s briefcases hitting their legs echo like the headboard off Atsumu’s walls. It’s everywhere, everywhere, and your insides churn sickeningly.

You stop, one hand leaning against the glass. Osamu catches up, hands halting just before they reach your back. “Stop running away from me, name,” he says softly, exasperated. “I’m trying to help.”

“How long.”

Osamu blinks. “What?”

You’re nearly doubled over with nausea, your free hand pressed flat against your chest to keep your lungs compressing. “How long has he been with her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I swear to god, if you’re lying to me-“

“(Name) I would never do that to you.”

The promise doesn’t reassure you. Osamu runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in right now. And I’m not going to say anything—“

“Like what?” You look at him over your shoulder, eyes squinted in malice. “Like I told you so?”

Your insolence is wearing out Osamu’s sliver of empathy. You’re unbearable like this, you know that, and Osamu is less tolerable than most. “Your words, not mine.”

“Your brother is cheating on me.”

“You’re not together.”

“There it is!” You let your head fall back in rumbling, humorless laughter. “I was waiting for that.”

“I don’t want to be a dick right now.”

“Too late, ‘Samu.” You haul yourself up, buttoning the front of your coat. “Go home, work on your winter menu. I’ll be fine.”

The statement is met with rightful skepticism, but when you start to walk away, Osamu doesn’t follow. You can’t decide whether or not this hurts, because the all encompassing pain finally registers to the rest of your body. You try to numb yourself, dissociating as every step towards home becomes a blur. Akasaka’s beautiful lights and towers fade into lesser Tokyo’s decrepit neighborhoods, with sketchy alleys and dimly lit streets. Your apartment complex is a shoebox to Atsumu’s tower residence, and it feels just as claustrophobic when you step into your crowded, tiny apartment.

It’s nicer than what your friends can afford, but that doesn’t make it any better. Your couch is also your bed, and your desk faces the window even though you can’t properly study this way. The kitchen is perpetually clean because you can’t cook anything in it. You’re sure the fridge is empty, but it’s fine, because you simply peel off your clothing and curl into a ball on your bed.

It’s not even late. You have work and assignments to do, but as you check the time on your phone, you’re immediately taken to your camera roll, where a picture from several days ago stares back at you mockingly.

It’s from his bathroom, the one that has a television screen by the bathtub, the one with hotel lighting that makes you look glowy and ethereal no matter what. You’re half dressed, in the middle of putting on your morning skincare when Atsumu comes up behind you, arms around your waist. Your face is obscured, but you remember how happy and loved you felt to have his lips pressed against your temple, the heat of his body in your side. How surrounded and safe and warm you felt.

But moments are as fleeting and fragile as glass. The illusion has been shattered, and you’re left in a cocoon of blankets nowhere near as satisfactory as his body heat, in a dark and dingy apartment you will probably stay in for the rest of your life.

Just as you’re about to set your alarm for the morning, a notification pops up. The sparkles around his name indicate that Atsumu has finally, finally texted you back.

✨T’sumu✨: sorry I missed you babe I was not in a good place

✨T’sumu✨: you got work tmrrw? You always know how to cheer me up

It’s as if your heart has been snatched out of your rib cage; your chest hollows and collapses as a sob hiccups in your throat. Something wet slides across your temple. It’s not Atsumu’s lips, not even close. You wipe the tears with the back of your hand, and throw your phone across the room.

It shatters.

[fire-the-headcanons]

Follow the Beacon Qrow—Now Your Real Training Begins

[Link to Masterpost]

[What’s this? Fluff?? In MY fic???]

The next few days passed in a haze of exhaustion—the process of forging was just as demanding as combat training, but in ways Qrow wasn't used to. Raven continued to hunt with Professor Mesánychta and Port, apparently lacking success in finding the one Grimm they were trying to study.

The two of them weren't speaking much.

But tiring as it was, it was thrilling to see the scythe take shape—intricate, elegant, the weapon of a Huntsman. And then it was finished, and he could hold it in his hands, feel the weight and reality of it. It wasn't much like the Grimm Reaper's kamas, but it was his, and that was so much cooler.

"What do you think?" Carmine asked as he took a few awkward swings.

"It's amazing," he said, sweeping it down in a huge arc before letting the head rest on the ground. Similar enough to a halberd if you ignored the bizarre balance. And shape. And weight.

"Now you just gotta figure out how to use it," she said, flicking the trigger so it shrank back down to the familiar broadsword shape. "The weight distribution isn't too different from a polearm warhammer, so I'd start there for the basics."

"Professor Mesánychta uses a hammer like that, right?" he asked, clipping it behind his back.

"Yes, and she'd probably be willing to help. Miss Rose might be able to teach you a thing or two, having had that spear of hers for so long, but not all of it will translate. You'll need to be observant and pull from many different disciplines."

Well, if there was one thing Bones had taught him...

She turned back to the workbench, starting to tidy up, and he hurried to help. Tossing the extra leather from the handle back into the bin, she continued, "Hopefully we won't have to do any major redesigns before the next break, but keep me posted on any new developments."

"Redesign?"

"Oh, you'll think of something, I'm sure," she laughed. "Hold on to the Mk. I for now, at least until you're used to doing the Mk. II's maintenance. The last thing you want to do is sit out of Grimm Studies because it's broken down."

"Right." He hung a pair of pliers back on the rack.

"Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Uh…not really."

"I'm sure you'll dream up something suitably imposing." She dragged out one of the metal stools and jumped up on it, stretching gratefully. "Make sure you take tomorrow off, all right? It's good to have another set of hands over in casting, but tired brains make more mistakes. I don't want any accidents."

Plenty of students complained about Carmine's almost pathological safety rules, but Qrow was just amazed at how effective they were in the face of his Semblance. "Raven and I are meeting Summer and Tai in Vale."

"Ah! Excellent. You can come back on Monday." She grinned up at him, and then the smile slid into a faint scowl as her eyes focused past his shoulder. A woman stood in the doorway, wearing a Mistrali robe in white and gold silk—she could easily have been from Anima, but did she know she was dressed for a funeral?

"Carmine," the newcomer cooed, light and soft as silk, "that may be the most magnificent weapon I've ever seen."

"Professor Eitri," she corrected flatly. Qrow blinked in surprise— nobody called her by last name.

The stranger held out her hand. "May I?"

Unsure what else to do, he offered out the hilt. She took it smoothly and tested the balance with a few confident strokes before shifting it to scythe form. "...Breathtaking."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Blanc. What do you need this time?"

Blanc—like the company building Mountain Glenn? So that's why Carmine didn't like her.

"I came to pick up the custom ammunition," she folded the weapon back down, staring at the gears, and then handed it back to Qrow, "and see if you had considered my offer."

"Not since the last time I turned you down, no."

"Carmine, how can you believe that this is all you're meant to do? You have a gift. You have a higher calling. " It was kind of weird to hear someone half the professor's age speak to her the same way Professor Mesánychta spoke to Tai after he covered her chalk with glue, and Carmine seemed to agree.

"I happen to think what I do is a higher calling than spit-polishing turrets for engineers with more money than sense."

She laughed, charmingly, and Carmine's eyes narrowed further. "But that's why I need you, Forgemaster. All I have is funding. You have the gif—"

"Oh, get your ammo and get out." The professor turned back to the workbench and continued tidying up. Qrow glanced between the two of them. Was he supposed to leave now?

"...I can see my offer has undervalued your skill. I meant no offense—I am prepared to double it."

Carmine swore, viciously, rounding on the woman and hissing up at her like a small red cat threatening a thoroughbred white horse. Blanc backed off the same way too.

"I'M ALREADY WORKING FOR YOU FULL TIME ON TOP OF MY ACTUAL DUTIES AS A TEACHER AND FORGEMASTER. AND SO FAR, I MUST SAY, I AM INCREDIBLY DISSATISFIED WITH THE COMPENSATION! YOU ARE GOING TO GET PEOPLE KILLED THE WAY YOU'RE RUNNING THIS LITTLE PR STUNT, AND YOU HAVE VALE FOOTING THE BILL!"

The woman's serene expression darkened. "I see Ozpin has swayed you."

"You never had a chance."

"Loyal to a fault… Remnant's population has expanded at an unprecedented rate since the end of the Great War—"

"Expanded , not has expanded, it's leveling off—"

"If we don't act there will be overcrowding, starvatio—"

"Oh my gods get out or I'm calling campus security."

Blanc squared her shoulders, drawing herself to her full height, staring down at the Forgemaster. "We cannot survive if we only fight to defend ourselves," she declared passionately. "Humanity must take the offensive, or one day we will be wiped out."

Carmine leaned forward with a sly smile exactly like Summer's. "...Or, we could end up in stuck in the desert and getting beaten around the head by a child with a stick. "

Blanc turned a grayish-purple, turned on her heel, and stormed from the room. The door rattled as she slammed it closed behind her.

"...Huh?" Qrow asked, turning his attention back to the professor.

"Lady Blanc's mother was from Vale, hence her name. Her father, on the other hand, was Emperor of Mistral during the Great War. The King of Vale was half his age during his defeat at Vacuo." She set the last hammer on the rack before leaning toward him with that same conspiratorial grin. "It's a bit of a sore spot for the family."

He nodded, stomach twisting. Thank the gods she didn't notice my wrist. Even going back to Vanta would be safer than getting spotted by an Imperial.

* * *

Qrow reached the docks while the hunting party were unloading their specimens, and quickly fell in with Raven and a third-year pushing a crate up toward the Grimm studies building. "Find anything good?"

"Just Beowolves." she grunted. The thing in the crate snarled, and the whole thing rattled as it slammed into one of the walls. "Did you finish your little project? That sword looks just like your old one."

"It's new."

The crate rattled again, and the cart's handle wrenched from their hands as it toppled to the side. Everyone sprang back at the noise, drawing weapons, but by some miracle the crate didn't bust open. Misfortune was in a forgiving mood today.

"Why don't you just go back to the dorms?" Raven snapped, shoving past him as she sheathed her sword.

"Miss Taupe!" Port chided. "Your brother was trying to help."

Raven glared at him. The crate hissed, scooting an inch closer to her as the thing inside lunged at the closest source of negativity.

"…You, er, seem to have some difficulty handling live Grimm," Port continued. "I would recommend taking up meditation." Another snarl, and the crate lurched again. "Perhaps knitting."

Qrow shrank back. They were attracting a lot of attention from the rest of the party, Professor Mesánychta included. Raven either didn't notice or care, just turned heel and headed for the dorms.

"That's your sister?" the third-year asked somewhat pityingly, bracing his shoulder against the fallen crate. Qrow just nodded, mirroring him, and together they shoved it back onto its wheels. He seemed to regret his question, hastily adding "She's, uh, great in a fight."

"Is she all right?" Port demanded, resting his fists on his hips. "She's been quite the Grimm magnet this week. Er, more than usual. While it did make the enemy easier to locate, it can't be good for her health."

"She's fine," he said quickly, returning to the handle. Port's moustache twitched, but he didn't push the issue, just the cart.

It only took them a few minutes to get the specimens wheeled into lockdown, and then Qrow hung back as the other students dispersed, waiting for the professor to finish whatever paperwork she was doing on her scroll.

"Professor Mesánychta?"

"Yes, Mister Taupe? I'm afraid there's not going to be an expedition tomorrow, if that's what you came to ask."

"No, that's not—I, uh, built—I'm trying to learn to use a scythe, and its weight distribution is kind of like a polearm warhammer—would you be willing to give me some pointers?"

She smiled, collapsing her scroll and tucking it into her pocket. "I'm certainly willing to try. Do you have it with you?"

He nodded, stepping back so he could draw his sword and trigger its transformation. Carefully setting the blade on the floor, he offered the handle to her.

"Goodness. Carmine's outdone herself on this one," she muttered, rotating the blade and shotguns experimentally. "I've only seen a few transforming weapons that are more complex. The free range of motion on the barrels is a nice touch."

Qrow beamed. "That was my idea."

Mesánychta's eyebrows shot up. "Was it? Well, it's perfectly suited for this. Most hammers and axes have the guns mounted opposing the head, so the recoil feeds into the swing," she said, swinging the scythe's head around so it curved behind a metal stool. "But the way the blade is turned on this, you'll also want to be able to fire in line with the handle, to draw it toward yourself quickly."

She jerked back on the handle, pulling it in toward the stool, and her finger brushed the trigger by mistake. The shotguns fired with a roar of thunder, cleaving the stool in two and vaporizing the Beowolf in the cage next to them. "Oh. Goodness. Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah." Well, third time's the harm. Good luck never lasted long.

"You're right, the weight distribution is more like a hammer than an axe," she continued, giving it a few careful, experimental swings. Her movements were far more fluid than his own, easily switching from hand to hand and almost weaving the blade around herself like a protective cage. "What an interesting project. I'd be happy to help."

He accepted it back, still grinning broadly. "Thanks, Professor."

"Although…" she frowned, glancing at her bow and quiver leaning against the little desk, "I don't think I've ever used Spring Tide's hammer form in class."

Qrow froze, smile instantly strained. She was right—he only knew from Queen of the Hunt. But she'd taught at Signal, right? "Uh, Summer mentioned it," he blurted.

"Hmm, yes. Well, I'd be happy to meet with you the week after next. You'll still be on campus?"

He nodded, grinning. "Thanks, Professor."

Next Chapter: Taiyang—Herbicide

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

We Could Be Heroes Ch. 4

Rayla made her way as quickly and quietly as possible back to her dorm. Claudia had texted back that she would wait in her car up the road.  It was already after 8, so everyone was either in their dorms or studying in the library. ‘No clue what I’m going to tell the girls.  I’m moving in with my boyfriend is the truth, but they’ll start asking questions.  Maybe I’ll say nothing.  I don’t tend to sleep there as much anymore.  Too much risk running into Bandlr.’

By the time Rayla had put her building key in the lock she was no closer to an answer.  Rayla went up to her floor and poked her head in her room.  ‘Good; no one’s here.  I’ll just grab my clothes and my books and I should be good to go. Anything else I need, Callum either has or will get.’  She grabbed a bag and began shoveling her textbooks and notebooks into it.

“Where you been, Rayla?”  Rayla gulped as she turned to her roommate, Zaras, a Skywing elf, standing in the door way.   Her wings looked as soft as ever while her pale blue skin looked a tad darker from the all sun she must have gotten since it became March.  With long black hair and a sweet face, Zaras looked just as soft as her wings.  No one ever saw her sharp tongue or heeled boots coming.  Zaras had her dark eyebrow raised as she lightly brushed dust off her right wing.

“I’m just getting my stuff.”  Was her voice shaking?  ‘Confidence, Rayla.  Runaan always said to act confident.’

“I see that,” Zaras gave a small smirk.  “Where you going?”

“I’m going to stay with my boyfriend for a bit.”

“Why are you staying with Prince Callum?”  Rayla felt her heart stop.  “I haven’t told anyone.”  Rayla’s heart started beating again as she relaxed just a bit.  “If anyone asks where you are, I always say you must be in the library or at the 24-hour gym in town.”

“How long have you known?”

Zaras shrugged before sitting on Rayla’s bed.  “The whole time, if it’s been more than a year.  You spend a lot of time with him and you always look so happy after you spend the night at his place.  Why do you think I insisted we be roommates again this year?”

“Because I’m the only person that tolerates your granola habit at three o’clock in the morning?”

“That and I like him, too.  He has been nothing but respectful to every elf on campus.  I have never seen him so much as raise his voice unless he was being provoked.  He’s more aggressive with the humans who push him to try dark magic than he is with us.  He also asked my honest opinion on the Sky arcanum and if I knew any good books of spells.  You got yourself a good man, Rayla, and I don’t want you to lose him just because someone didn’t like him.”

“Thank you, Zaras.  Bandlr is going to go public with this tomorrow.  He found out and he’s acting like it’ll just ‘slip out.’”  Zaras hissed as she shook her head.  “I know.  He’s an asshole and I would kill him if I could.  I might, anyways.  I think I would be doing everyone a favor.”

“Bandlr is going to be the least of your worries.  You know that a lot of the humans on campus don’t like you, right?  Just purely based on the fact that you freely admitted that you are, technically, an assassin.  Even if you haven’t made a kill, you’re still trained and still able.”

Rayla put her head in her hands as she groaned.  “I know.  I also know that I don’t want to walk away from him.  Even though it would be easier and would save the both of us a lot of pressure and harassment.”

“But you love him.”  Rayla turned to see Zaras looking at her with a genuinely happy smile.

“That I do.”

“How are you going to get your stuff to his place?”

“His friend, Claudia, is going to help me.  Her car’s already parked and she’s waiting for me.”

A quick clap of her hands and Zaras was up and already rifling through Rayla’s drawers.  “Well, let’s get packing.  Do you want anything out of the bathroom or can I have it?  I really like the smell of your moonberry shampoo.”

“You can have all of it.  Except the bubbles.  Those are mine.”

“Noted.  Where’s your other bag?”  Zaras quickly helped pack while keeping an eye on the door.  It was better to know who was and who wasn’t in the suite so that they could leave with as few questions as possible.  “Do you seriously not have any sexy underwear?  I have several pairs just to make me feel good on a bad day.”

“Callum might have a heart attack if I did.  You know my bra with the front clasp?  I wore it one time and he almost fainted.  In about five years, I’ll try the front clasp again.”  It had been a complete accident that he had even seen the stupid thing.  She was changing at his place and he had happened to walk into the room.  Callum had blushed bright red and stammered when he saw her take it off before leaving the room, stumbling the whole way.

“Pfft.  That is just too adorable.  I don’t know how anyone can think that dork is dangerous.”

“I don’t either.  The most threatening thing he’s ever done was tell Bandlr to back off after he busted into Callum’s apartment.”

“You might need extra security, then.  My dad knows people who work in the security industry.  I’ll give him a call if you need it.”

“We’ll let you know.  I can’t tell you how much it means to me, to us, that you’re helping me.  That you’ve been helping me.”

Zaras shrugged, a thoughtful expression taking over her features.  “I told you, he’s a good man.  He’s also a talented mage with zero percent of the overconfidence that I see in a lot of the mages here on campus; human and elf.  I have no idea how he got the Sky arcanum to work for him, though.  From what he told me, he understood that the wind was a part of him, of everything.  He also admitted that it was after he broke a primal stone, so take that as you will.”

“He’s explained it to me a bunch of ways and he loses me halfway through.  He understands how he did it but he can’t explain it in a way that makes sense.  And now that he’s planning to try with the other arcana, he has to make it make sense.  He’ll always be dangerous if he can’t make people understand why he was able to access primal magic as a human.  There will be people who accuse him of using dark magic to succeed or that he made a deal with someone like Aaravos.”

“I wish him all the luck in the world.  I also wish you luck.  You’re gonna need it.”

“Thanks.  I’ll need every last bit of luck you have.  Where’s your lucky coin again?”

“You’ll take my lucky coin over my dead body.”

“I can arrange that.”  They chuckled as Rayla did a quick sweep of the apartment.  “I think that’s everything.”

“Let’s go, then.”  Zaras made sure to walk out the door first, after grabbing Rayla’s bubbles, and kept the conversation on classes and the latest movie.  “I’m telling you, Rayla, you need to go see this one.  I’m normally am not a fan of human cinema, but this guy just cried as he rode off into the sunset.  Wonderful.  I need eight more.”

“You just have a thing for men crying.”

“Who doesn’t?  I also really like girls in tight pants.  Really tight pants.”

“Are we going to discuss your kinks all night?  I’ll need a drink if we are.”

“Buy me some hard liquor and I’ll be sure to tell you every last one of them.”

“Name the time and place.  There’s the car.”  Zaras nodded and let Rayla lead the way from there.  Claudia waved them over and quickly popped the trunk. “Thank you, again, Zaras.”

“You’re welcome.  You owe me that drink.  And I want you to tell me what’s going on.  I’m here if you need me.”  Rayla was normally not really a huggy person, but she quickly wrapped her arms around Zaras in thanks.  It took a moment for Zaras to return the hug, squeezing Rayla with all her strength.  When they separated, Zaras smiled at Rayla again before nodding her head to the car.

“Right.  Good night.”  Rayla hopped in and Claudia hurried down the road.  Zaras waved before quickly turning back to the dorm.  “Do you think anyone saw you?”

“Doubt it.  Soren got a message from King Harrow today.”  Brow raised; Claudia looked at Rayla out of the corner of her eye.  “Apparently, he’s going to be officially stationed here?”

“I asked for him.  I needed more people in our corner.”

“That sky elf looks pretty in your corner.”

“She is.  I’ll introduce you sometime.  Make sure you wear super tight pants.”

“Ooh.  My kind of girl.”  It didn’t take long to reach the apartment complex. Claudia drove to the back and grabbed a bag after parking.  “Callum texted that he’s still at the store.  I’m going to take his key when he gets back and get a copy made for you.  You two can’t leave the apartment until I get back and that might not be until tomorrow night, okay?”

“As long as I get it before classes start Monday, I’m good to go.”  They went in and up the elevator.  Claudia suddenly got a big smile on her face as she laughed.  “What’s so funny?”

“I’m helping my ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend move into his apartment.  And we have to keep everything a complete secret until tomorrow.  I feel like some sort of secret agent.”

“How do you feel about that?”  For all of Claudia’s prodding, Rayla had never known if Claudia was actually alright with watching her ex-boyfriend move on or was putting on a front because they were still friends.

Claudia shrugged and turned to Rayla.  “Honestly?  Not nearly as bad as I thought I would.  Neither one of us was mature enough or in a good place for a real relationship.  I’m a little jealous, but I think that has more to do with the fact that he’s moved on and in a steady relationship while I’m still going on speed dates.  He was everything I was supposed to want; we just didn’t fit together.  He has drawn such a thick line in the sand concerning dark magic and, well, dark magic is the only thing that’s allowing my brother to stand anymore.  Callum has really pushed for me to learn healing from the other elves here.  The only problem is that my father is Lord Viren and he hates elves.  No one wants to teach me or help Soren because they’re scared that I’ll take their life force to heal Soren or we’ll take the secrets back to our dad.”

“You wouldn’t, though.  Callum told me that you two are Team Soren and Claudia.  You’re your own side and you wouldn’t jeopardize Soren’s health to get back in your father’s good graces.”

A chuckle and a shake of her head was all Rayla got for a moment.  “He’s right. Viren’s our dad and we want nothing to do with him.  He told Soren to kill Ezran while he and Callum were at the Banther Lodge a few years ago, before anyone knew just how treacherous he had become.  He also told me to leave Soren to die if it was between him and an artifact that was supposed to amplify magical abilities.  The things he’s called Callum and Queen Sarai…. I understand why my mom left him.  Soren and I wish we had picked her all those years ago.  He’s not going to be nice about this.  All the hatred he’s felt towards Callum and Queen Sarai is also going to fall on you.”  The elevator opened and the two got out, sitting on the floor with Rayla’s stuff to the side.

“Why did he hate her?  She saved his life and died doing it.”  Claudia looked conflicted for a few moments.  Rayla could see the wheels turning in her head. She genuinely didn’t know what had made Viren turn on Sarai and Callum didn’t seem to have an answer either.  If she knew, maybe she could be better prepared for anything Viren launched against them.

Finally, Claudia nodded her head, looking back at Rayla.  “Don’t tell Callum this. Or Ezran.  You have to promise you will never tell them.”

“Is it that bad?”

Claudia held Rayla’s stare and lightly shook her head.  “You have no idea what he has called her.  If Callum found out, he might kill my dad.  I think King Harrow finding out about it is what ultimately led to he and my dad falling out.”

Rayla didn’t want to keep secrets from Callum and keeping one from Ezran would be more difficult than her training with Runaan.  But this was also a chance to get another perspective on Callum’s history.  She didn’t trust the news and she didn’t trust what most other people said because they didn’t know Callum; Claudia did.  “I don’t like it, but I promise I won’t say anything.”

“OK.  I’ll hold you to it.”  Claudia sighed as she leaned against the door.  “You know that Queen Sarai wasn’t a noble, right?”  Rayla nodded as she adjusted herself.  She had a feeling Claudia was going to be giving her a lot of information and that this was a lot more complicated than she thought.  “Well, when Queen Sarai and King Harrow were kids, they met when his father took him to visit his best general.  That was Queen Sarai and General Amaya’s mother.  Harrow was instantly smitten with her.  They spent a lot of time together during that visit and Harrow was convinced he would marry her.  He was right, eventually.

“Queen Sarai didn’t have those same thoughts.  She viewed herself as a warrior first and that her job would be to protect the future king.  And then she met Marco, Callum’s father.  From what I heard; he had no prospects beyond his artwork.  He didn’t come from a family with any kind of wealth or status, couldn’t use a bow and arrow or a sword and always questioned why the world couldn’t talk about peace instead of continuing to fight whenever the war was brought up.  He was also opposed to dark magic; calling it the reason why the peace had been shattered in the first place.  He was probably the last person who should marry a future military leader, but he came to their home one day to paint a portrait of Sarai and Amaya and that was that.  They got married a year and a half later and Callum was born about two years after that.

“Marco died when Callum was only a year old from a bad fall.  He was painting a client’s ceiling and someone on the ground wasn’t paying close enough attention.  Queen Sarai was devastated and she buried herself in her work and raising Callum.  Her work brought her to the capital and to Harrow.  By this point, he and my father were close and my dad was pushing for Harrow to get married and have an heir before he was crowned king.”  Claudia chuckled as a sad smile took over.  “Harrow instantly fell back in love with her and he loved Callum immediately after meeting him.  It didn’t matter to him that Callum was from his love’s first marriage.  He was part of Sarai and that was enough.

“Dad didn’t think it was…appropriate for a future king to marry a woman who already had a child.  It didn’t matter that she was a widow.  She had a kid and she wasn’t noble; that should have taken her out of the running.  He brought women from all over the Pentarchy and Harrow still chose Sarai.  And it got really, really ugly between Sarai and my dad.  She asked him what his problem was and he called Callum…well, he called Callum a mongrel son of a street urchin.  He then said Callum wasn’t fit to lick Soren’s boots, let alone be the son of a king.  That was before he proceeded to call Sarai a two-bit gold-digger who was only interested in Harrow because she wanted another man in her life and Harrow happened to be there.  He told her she was nothing more than a whore who would lead Harrow to his own destruction.  None of that was true, but my dad was so blinded by his devotion to Harrow that he didn’t see the truth anymore.

“Sarai said her piece by calling Dad a self-serving, egotistical asshole.  She made him a deal; she wouldn’t tell Harrow what he said if he backed off.  Dad knew a good deal when he saw one and agreed.  Harrow would have believed Sarai in a heartbeat.  Sarai and Harrow got married and then had Ezran.  In between, Sarai began to let it be known to the rest of the world about her distaste for dark magic.  She thought it was a shortcut and resisted every time it was brought up as a solution.  This university was all her idea.  She had taken what her first husband had said to heart and she wanted peace between the Pentarchy and Xadia.  She instilled that in Callum and Harrow and they’ve instilled it in Ezran and General Amaya.  And the four of them have started to instill it in the rest of the Pentarchy.

“They tried to get along for Harrow’s sake but my dad would just rail into her when he thought it was safe.  Called her power hungry and manipulative.  Soren and I heard things that no one should ever utter about anyone.  Sarai died protecting my father because she knew how important he was to Harrow.  She thought they would both make it out alive and they had just saved her sister.  Dad had a high opinion of her for a little bit, until Harrow started implementing her ideas.  The university and this town started to be built less than a year after her death.  He pushed for more peace talks and gradually started to reject any of Dad’s ideas if they involved dark magic.  Eventually, Harrow started to call for Dad for council less and less.

“Dad blamed Sarai for losing his best friend.  The truth is, Sarai was right.  Dark magic is a shortcut.  It’s the only one we have, besides primal stones, for humans to learn magic.  And it’s impossible to get primal stones.  There are days when I listen to Callum and agree with everything he says.  I wonder if dark magic has twisted my dad beyond repair and if that’s why he’s like this now.  He used to be kinder and more understanding.  What if dark magic does that to me one day?”  She twisted the white lock in her hair and bit her lip.  “But I also love magic and don’t want to give it up.  I’ve always been a mage, and I’m really freaking good at it.  I taught Callum how to use the primal stone and his first couple of spells.  Callum can’t explain how he unlocked the arcanum in a way that anyone understands and I refuse to stop using dark magic to help my brother until I have another answer.”

Rayla had heard a lot of this from Callum, but to hear just how this animosity between Sarai and Viren and how that led to Harrow and Viren’s own relationship to deteriorate put new light on everything he had told her.  “Callum really doesn’t know?”

Claudia shrugged, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.  “He knows about Dad’s feelings towards him and he knows Dad didn’t like Sarai.  To my knowledge, he has no clue just how deep that hatred runs and for how long it has.  Neither does Ezran.  In their minds, Sarai was a saint; why would anyone hate her with all of their being?  Harrow doesn’t want them to know what my dad called their mother.  Callum also doesn’t know about the deal they made or the argument that it came from.  As far as Callum and Ezran know, Dad just gave up and told Harrow to be happy.  If they find out, it needs to be from Harrow.  The only reason I know is because Dad got drunk one night and told me and Soren everything.  When we told Harrow that we knew, he asked us to keep it quiet and never, ever tell Callum or Ezran.  That was the same day that we told Harrow about his plot to kill Ezran.  We picked Harrow’s side that day and Dad wanted nothing more to do with us and we wanted nothing more to do with him.”

“Why can’t they know?”

“Would you want your sons to know that someone you believed was your best friend and your biggest supporter thought their mother was anything less than honorable, even after she saved his life?”

Rayla thought about it for a moment.  If she and Callum had children and were put in a similar situation, would she want their children to know something like that?  “No, I don't think I would.”

“See?” Claudia asked not unkindly.  “It's one thing to say that Viren didn't like Sarai, it's another to say the words he actually used.  I don’t want to tell Callum or Ezran and neither does Soren.  It’s not something you feel good about knowing.  The only reason I told you is because you need to know what you’re going up against.  Dad may say all of those things and worse to anyone who will listen and you have to be prepared.  Don’t focus on what they call you.  Don’t let anyone get the best of you with name-calling.  Only state your and Callum’s truth.  If you spend any time saying anything besides that and that you and Callum love each other for who you are, then they would have won and they will keep coming back.  I’ll step in if I have to on your behalf.  I like you, Rayla, and I like how happy you make Callum.  No matter what, he is one of my best friends in this world and I don’t want him to lose you over something neither one of you can control.”

“He’s not gonna lose me.  I’ll have to be dragged kicking and screaming out of this relationship at this point.”

“Good.”  Claudia hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head on them.  “When Callum and I dated, it was before Dad was disgraced.  To a degree, it was always assumed we would get married for political reasons.  It wasn’t really a big deal to anyone until we broke-up.  That’s when the gossip came around.  I can’t imagine what the two of you must be feeling right now.”

Rayla stretched her legs out and folded her arms over her chest.  “Nervous.  A bit relieved.  Like we’ve done both the smartest and stupidest thing we ever could.  He wanted to give up when Amaya told us I didn’t have an out the second the public knew.  He told me to go back to my uncles and I told him that if I did that there would be no second chances.  We either stand together now or he will lose me forever.”

“Good for you.”  Claudia had a big grin on her face at Rayla’s statement.

“I wasn’t going to let him give up.  I think Bandlr’s threat to tell the world and then hearing his aunt tell him I had to stay at the border got to him.  He finally came back to his senses when he saw I wasn’t going to run away and was going to take this media nonsense head-on.”

“I understand if he’s concerned about the media.  It’s not easy to live the way he does.  This is the most freedom he’s had since his mom married Harrow.  Every move he makes, every outfit he wears, every person he meets is dissected to death.  There are articles and videos out there about whether or not Harrow actually loves Callum and that has hit Callum so hard.  They talk about body language this and Callum didn’t go to such-and-such event that and they don’t know anything that goes on behind closed doors.  I have never seen someone love their kids as much as Harrow does Callum and Ezran.  Harrow’s distance was because he didn’t want Callum to feel like he was replacing his father not because he loved Callum any less.  It took a long, long time for Callum to call him ‘Dad’ and being constantly reminded that he is the ‘step-prince’ didn’t help.”

Before Rayla could respond, the elevator opened to reveal Callum, laden with groceries.  “Hey, guys.  I’ve got enough food to last a month.  Or a week since you’ll be here, Rayla.”

Rayla did a quick eyeroll.  “Ha ha, Mr. Skinny.  It’s all muscle unlike your noodle arms.”  Raylan and Claudia stood, each grabbing one of Raylas bags.

“You like my noodle arms.”  A quick smirk at Rayla and Callum unlocked the door so they could head inside.  Claudia and Rayla quickly put Rayla’s stuff down so Rayla could help Callum put their groceries away.  “You’ll be so proud of me.  I only got one more piece of fruit for the fruit bowl.”

“You’re eating that, too.”

“I’m drawing it tomorrow and then I’ll be done and we’ll spend the rest of the day eating fruit and Earthblood honey.  And the day after that.  And maybe the day after that.”

Rayla picked up said piece of fruit and glared at it.  “I swear, if your plan is to slowly replace the rest of our diet with your fruit bowl, I will make you eat the actual bowl.”

“Do you hear what I put up with, Claudia?”

Claudia shook her head as she walked over to the two.  She looked at the fruit bowl and then back at Callum.  “Do you really need all that fruit for art?”

“It’s called still life and I haven’t done it in a while and drawing helps me relax in stressful situations.  Also, please lay off my fruit.”  Callum handed her the key to the apartment.  “Let us know when you get the copy.”

“Got it.  I’ll give you the bill then, too.”

“I can give you cash now.”

“Nah, I know you’re good for it.  I also know where you live.  Night.”

“Night, Clauds.”

“Thanks for the help.”  Rayla followed Claudia to the door and locked it behind her.  “Alright.  We need to talk about something.”  Callum gulped as he suddenly found his shirt very interesting.  “I’m not still mad at the whole ‘run away while you can’ thing if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, thank god.  I was going to have a heart attack.”

“It’s about how…. calmly we bring up marriage.  We teased each other about you marrying me because of honey and how strong I am.  When Ezran talked about me being his big sister, I almost said ‘yes.’  And then, you called Runaan and Ethari your ‘future-in-laws.’  We’ve been bringing it up for months without ever really talking about it.”  Rayla went back to the kitchen, lightly drumming her fingers against the counter.  “Do you want to marry me?”

“I’m not opposed to it,” he hedged.

“Callum.”  Rayla needed him to be as honest and serious as possible about this. She didn’t want to start planning a forever with him in her mind if it hadn’t even crossed his.

“Fine,” Callum grabbed her hand and looked in her eyes with those suddenly far too green ones of his.  “I know we haven’t been together that long, but I know I want to marry you someday.  I wouldn’t have asked to meet Ethari and Runaan if I didn’t.  I also don’t want to do it for a few years.  We’re still young and there are so many things to see and do first.”

“Do you already have a ring?”

“No.  I actually have one planned, but I’m going to have it specially made.  I’m thinking,” he raised her hand and separated her middle finger out, “a band of platinum that has been twisted.  I’m also thinking a moonstone sunken into the band.  Nothing jutting out, so you won’t be able to cut someone when you backhand them.”

“But that’s the best part.”  Rayla looked down at her hand as Callum stroked the base of her finger.  “You’ve really thought about this.”

“More than thought about it.  I've drawn it a hundred times.”

“Have you now?”  It was supposed to come out cocky and self-assured, but instead, Rayla felt anticipation and curiosity step in.

Callum looked at her finger again, biting his lip.  He went over to the bookcase, going to his shelf of sketchbooks.  He quickly pulled out the one he was looking for and flipped through the pages.  “This is the one I settled on.”

Callum came back to rest the book on the counter, open to a page with a single ring design.  The top of the band was braided platinum with the moonstone embedded in the center.  Not only that, but one side had a red stone and yellow stone while the other had purple and green ones.  Each stone was also embedded.  Callum had also drawn what he wanted the inside of the band to look like.  So far, it was just the moon and sky runes, but plenty of room to add more.  The uneven towers of Katolis were right next to the moon rune.  “It’s very detailed,” she breathed.

“I just thought about it one day and I couldn't stop.  I actually spent weeks of my summer vacation creating the perfect design.”

Rayla looked up at him.  “You were thinking about this when we couldn't even see each other?”

“Well, yeah,” he sheepishly replied.

It was mindboggling to her.  He had had this in his head for that long?  “We hadn't been together for very long.  Officially at least.”

“I'm not ready to get married now.  I just know, even back then, that I want to marry you.”

“Is that a proposal?”  Rayla let a grin come over her features.  Teasing Callum was her default for whenever she became overwhelmed.   And she was insanely overwhelmed.

“No, it's a plan.”

“Sounds like a proposal to me.  You got a sketch for the ring; told me you want to be with me until you die.”

Callum put a mock affronted look on his face, hand going to his chest.  “I did not use those words.”

“Maybe not.  But that's what you meant.”

Callum flushed.  “It’s not a proposal.”  He paused as a small bit doubt entered his voice.  “What do you think about the ring?”

“It’s beautiful.  And if you had already had it made, I might have said ‘yes’ just now.”  Callum glared at her teasing for a moment before her entire statement caught up with him, eyes going wide and mouth slightly ajar.  Rayla blushed, quickly turning her attention back to the sketch.  “I thought diamonds were traditional among humans, though.”

Callum let her change the subject, probably still processing her acceptance of his ‘not proposal.’  “We,” a quick point of his fingers between the two of them, “are not a traditional couple.  I thinks something a bit more symbolic and unique to us would make far more sense.  My mom didn't have one on her rings, either.  My father could barely afford the plain silver one he gave her and Dad knew that Mom valued simplicity and creativity over showy.  That ring was also braided, but it was gold and had my birthstone.  Dad said it wasn't so much an engagement ring as it was a promise to love both Mom and me for the rest of his life.”

“You always talk so highly of her.”  Rayla hadn’t noticed it before, but Claudia was right; Callum viewed Sarai as a saint.  There was always a reverent tone in his voice whenever he talked about her and it seemed like she could have done no wrong in his eyes.

Callum shrugged.  "She was my mom.  She stood by my father and Dad through the tough times and believed in putting in the hard work for peace, love, and justice instead of taking the easy way out.  I never doubted that she loved me and Ezran equally.  I remember her being full of love and warmth, with a serious sweet tooth.  Only a fool got between her and jelly tarts.”  He chuckled.  “There’s actually this great story Aunt Amaya tells.  When they were kids, someone tried to take a bite of Mom’s cake and she stabbed their hand with her fork.  Everyone knew to stay away from her dessert after that.  I really miss her sometimes.   I think about what life would be like if she were still here.  I actually have this pair of socks she tried to knit when she was pregnant with Ezran.  They were for me, but the sizing was so off and it looks like she tried to add a thumb at some point.  I can never wear them, but I also can't bring myself to throw them away.”

“Do you think about what life would have been like with your father?”

A guilty look crossed his features.  “I don't really remember him.  It feels like Harrow has always been my dad.  Everyone says I take after my father.  I'm terrible with weapons, talented in art, and have his eyes.  Even my smile is supposed to look just like his did.  And it's nice to know that, but, it's hard for me to think ‘that's my father’ when I see a picture or someone mentions his name.”  Callum started to absently flip through the pages of his sketchbook.  “His grandparents died shortly after I turned six, so I don’t even have anyone to go to for stories about his childhood.  My mom left me everything she had, but it was just a stack of documents that didn’t say much beyond medical history and the family trees with a handful of photographs.  I have all of his art pieces that aren’t in a museum or were for clients, though.  You know that portrait of my mom?”

Rayla turned to the picture in question.  It was a replica of a very soft, gentle-looking Sarai.  Rayla had often wondered if that portrait had been done while she was pregnant with Callum or was holding him.  Sarai had always had a reputation in Xadia for being strong and excelling in combat, even with her talk about peace and understanding.  To see her look so sweet had been a little jarring at first.  “Yeah.”

“My father painted the original shortly before he died.  The actual painting is hanging in an art museum in the capital, right next to the one he painted of Mom and Aunt Amaya.  Me, Dad, Ezran, and Aunt Amaya all have painted copies.   Trust me, the original is much better and I can’t wait to take you to see it someday.  You can tell with each stroke just how much he loved her, and how he carefully chose each color to bring out the softness he saw in her that a lot of people didn’t because she was so good at being a warrior.  That's the one thing that makes me go ‘yeah, that’s who my father was.’  Do you think about what your life would be like if your parents raised you?”

Rayla shook her head.  “Not really.  I couldn't have asked for better than Runaan and Ethari.  My parents are members of the Dragon Guard and it’s a big honor, I just don't get to see them.  As far as I'm concerned, Runaan and Ethari are my parents.  If my mum and dad came here and told me they didn't approve of us, I can't imagine I'd really care.  I'm not even sure when I can tell them.”

“You can't call them?”

Rayla shrugged.  “That's only really used in emergencies.   You have to hope that they call you.  Letters are better.  It’s getting late.  Do you wanna go to bed?”

Callum looked like he wanted to continue the conversation, but looked at the clock before nodding.  “Yeah, let’s go to bed.  We’re gonna need to be well rested for tomorrow.”

“Is it wrong to hope tomorrow never comes?”

“Well, we’re not leaving this apartment until Monday, so we’ll just pretend it didn’t.”

“Like you’re pretending you didn’t propose?”  Callum groaned as Rayla chuckled.

-------------------------------------

Notes:

Up to chapter 12 is actually already up on AO3, I just keep forgetting to post this here.  Sorry!

We don't know that much about Sarai in canon, sadly, and we know nothing about Callum's father or that side of his family, and both of them, plus Viren's relationship with Sarai, are going to play a big part at some point. It's a bit of an info dump, but I needed some background laid out and Claudia was happy to help.

I don't think canon Viren thought of Sarai quite like this, but I saw some resentment brewing when Harrow didn't want to leave Amaya, and Sarai, behind when they went to go help Duren.

[certifiedskywalker]

Best Friend’s Brother - Klaus Hargreeves

You work for a PI (private investigation) firm and are in charge of managing informants. One informant in particular is quite good at his job and you both grow quite close. If he was in a different line of work, he might even consider you to be his best friend. However, one day, Diego Hargreeves gives you a tip that changes everything.

“You’re sure this is the right address?” You ask quietly, slipping the now folded piece of paper into your jacket pocket. Once you’re certain it’s secure, you scan the growing crowd of people gathering in the park. Mothers walking with strollers and gaggles of children nipping at their heels passed by joggers running alongside dogs on leashes. All normal, or so it seemed.

“Have I ever let you down before? Huh?” The question pulls your eyes to the man sitting beside you. A smug grin his spread across his smooth features, brown eyes glinting with confidence. When you first met Diego Hargreeves, you thought said confidence was arrogance but over time, he proved to be an invaluable ally and an even better friend.

“Don’t get cocky,” you retort with a raised brow. “You know that this important. It could be a big bust if the target is there.”

“Ooh,” Diego hums, “I love it when you talk investigator to me.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at his teasing.

“Not an investigator,” you grumble before standing on wobbly legs from the park bench you had been sitting on. Diego mirrors your action, linking your arm in his as he begins to walk. You cave into his play and fall into step beside him.

“Not an investigator, yet,” he corrects with a sly smirk. “You know you could come work with me, Y/N. You wouldn’t have to work through the ranks then, could be out in the field, in the action.” You kept your eyes forward, focusing on each step you took for you knew that the moment you looked at Diego he would see how you longed for what he described.

“It would also be illegal,” you pointed out and a chuckle from Diego allowed you to slip your arm from his. “I quite like my job, Diego. Plus, if we worked together, would we still be friends?”

“You think I would get tired of you? Never,” he teased, giving you a wink as you walked backwards away from him.

“You’re right,” you said, shouting a little now as the distance between the two of you grew. “But I would get tired of you, knife-boy!” You hear Diego laugh when you turn your back to him. The sound echoes in your ear as you walk back to the complex your PI firm works out of. It was small, bricks cracked and a few rats skittering about. Despite the lackluster exterior, it housed the job you loved. There were downsides to it, but you knew that if you stuck around, it would pay off. You had already met your best friend who, when you looked past the outwards machismo, was a good man. Diego trusted you and you him. What more could you ask for?

The address Diego had given lead you and the other investigators you worked with to a dingey looking alleyway the next day. While you weren’t active in the raid that took place, you did have the pleasure of watching the perpetrators being cuffed. It was a satisfying sight to behold. The client who had enlisted your firm’s aid was soon called and you watched as a Rolls Royce drove up to the scene.

“Jonathan!” A woman with a head of  large, blonde hair screeched the name as she stepped out of the vehicle. You were clambering out of your car as well, hoping to catch up with her. Working as the PI firm’s secretary came with the wonderfully dreadful obligation to deal with rather vocal clients. You remembered this one, her lips stained an obnoxious ruby red when she had filed for investigation on her son.

“Mrs. Warmberg! Wait,” you shouted, and the woman spun around on her deadly looking heels. Her icy blue eyes were alight with fury, her face screwed up in a vile scowl.

“Wait?! You caught my son!” Panting slightly, you hurried up to her halted form. “I’m here to punish him for his...his..dastardly deeds!” As you catch your breath, you began to explain.

“We did, yes. Now the police have been notified and he will be detained. You can speak with him then,” you clarify. Mrs. Warmberg didn’t seem to like the logic as she continued her charge towards her son. You groaned and followed close behind her. “Mrs. Warmberg!”

“Ma’am,” another investigator intervened, holding her back. “The police are on their way to pick up your son and his dealers.”

“I’m not a dealer! Just an innocent bystander!” Shouted one of the men cuffed alongside Mrs. Warmberg’s son. This one was slim, with heavy eye makeup giving him an even more sickly appearance. He did have charming features though, complete with a smile that was wide with the hopes of conveying his self-proclaimed innocence. You let out a chuckle and the men’s eyes flitted towards you. Before the man could speak, you overheard the other investigator mumble something while Mrs. Warmberg continued to whine.

“Y/N, can you watch them while I,” he gestured to Mrs. Warmberg and you nodded quickly, overjoyed to be relieved from Mrs. Warmberg’s presence. As you walked up to the three men cuffed against the brick wall of the alley, the one that had shouted moments before looked you up and down. You felt your cheeks warm under his prying eyes.

“You don’t look like a detective,” he mused, his voice ladened with amusement. “Too...too pretty.”

“You look like a junkie,” you counter and the man grins. If he weren’t cuffed or at odds with you, you would have dared to describe his smile as handsome.

“Touche,” he purred, “but really. You look too nice to get your rocks off from fighting wheezing smokers and trust fund babies.” You roll your eyes to try to distract from the blush nipping at your cheeks. The other two men, the dealer and Jonathan, glanced at each other then back to the two of you.

“You’re not just smokers,” you bite back, but your tone isn’t as cold as you hoped it would be. What you said didn’t matter at this point, but anything you could gleam from the man now could be used against him.

“How do you know?” The man shot back, the smile on his lips spreading a bit wider. You opened your mouth, ready to fire a retort but nothing came to mind. “You don’t even know our names. Maybe that’s why you’re not a detective.”

Now your face was burning. Red clouded your vision, blotting out the charming expression the man wore. If it weren’t for his sparkling green eyes staring at you, you would have stayed silent. Something about him enticed you, coaxed the words you were dying to say out from your mouth. You simply had to know.

“Then what is your name?” Your question seems to shock him, his smile faltering when your voice reaches his ears. The dealer chuckled and nudged Jonathan smugly.

“Look at ‘im! He’s all quiet now!” Jonathan laughed too and the nameless man’s cheeks dusted pink. Jonathan was beginning to tease him when Mrs. Warmberg spoke up.

“Not a word, Jonathan! You’re in deep trouble!” The young man’s mouth slammed shut in embarrassment and the man you were talking to seemed to come back to his senses.

“Klaus,” he answers, finally. His green eyes peering up at you, all curious and waiting. Waiting for you to tell him your name you realize.

“Last name?” You press him further, wanting to be able to search his name in a database later. The man, Klaus, curled his lips together, mentally debating whether to answer.

“Ha-Hargreeves,” he mutters, barely audible above the racket around you all. The name rings a bell, pulls a face up from your memory until the connection becomes clear. Diego, it was Diego Hargreeves that echoed in your mind. The thread between you and Klaus.

“Hargreeves?” You simply can not quantify how much weight that last name holds for your heart. Could this Klaus be related to Diego, your best friend?

“Y-yeah,” Klaus replied, “does it mean something to you?” He squints at you, trying to get a read on your expression but you hide it by speaking once more.

“I’m Y/N,” you say quickly and Klaus’ intrigue on your features seems deterred.

“That’s quite the name,” he coos smoothly, “I like it.” You’re about to question him, his motives, his family when three of New York’s finest begins to make their way towards you all.

“Damn it man,” the dealer grumbled, “your momma is a crazy lady! You busted all of us!” Jonathan frowns and keeps his face turned to the ground. Klaus follows the dealer’s line of sight and sees the officers approaching.

“Well, Y/N, it seems our date has been cut short.” You stifle a scoff as the policemen and women pull the three men to their feet. “You’re always welcomed to pay me a visit in the slammer,” Klaus drawls, sending you a wink as well. “There’s always room in my cell for you.”

“I’m sure there is,” you joke back, but there is little humor in your voice. Klaus seems to detect your lapse of interest because, just as he is forced into the patrol car, he spares a glance in your direction. His bright green eyes meet your gaze and you feel your heart skip a beat; but then he’s gone and you’re left with your thoughts again.

“Two visits in one week? Business must be taking off,” Diego teases, nudging your shoulder with his own. Immediately after the drug bust, you had texted Diego about meeting up. You had been vague with the details about the meet up but your goal was to ask about Klaus.

“You could say that,” you sighed, falling on the seat of the bench beside him. “I actually have some questions about your last tip. There were more people than we thought.”

“You called me here because I did my job too well? Wow, this is a first,” he chuckled before taking a sip of his coffee. It had become a friend tradition to meet a cafe on official business before walking to the nearby park. You almost opted to forego the coffee but didn’t want to catch Diego totally unawares. You wanted to get the truth from him rather than the firm’s criminal database.

“Did you know there would be other people besides the boy and the dealer?” Diego met your eyes and you quickly realized he knew you weren’t just on official PI business.

“I did,” he confirmed, “but I don’t see why this is a point of interest. You guys got paid just the same.” You nodded and traced your thumb around the lip of your untouched tea. The travel mug had long since absorbed the heat and your palms felt the sting.

“It isn’t the concern of the firm’s,” you explained, with a shaking breath, “it’s a concern of mine.” Diego raised an eyebrow at you, brown eyes squinted with interest.

“Why is that?” His voice was chilled but not yet as bitter as your ignored tea.

“Because,” you began, meeting his eyes, “you’re my best friend, Diego.” His mouth fell open for a moment but he quickly closed it. Being his closest friend, you knew that he did his best to keep his walls up. It had taken you nearly a year of working with him to get him to open up as much as he had with you.

“O-okay,” he stuttered out, “ask y-your questions then.” You gave him a grateful smile and took a deep breath before continuing.

“Did you know who else would be there? Like, specifically who?” You held Diego’s eyes with your own, ready to search his face for any sign of recognition. A wave of understanding washed over his features and you sighed. “You did.”

“Listen,” Diego was beginning to explain, but you were already retreating to your thoughts. “I knew if someone could set him on the right path it would be you, Y/N. He just...he needed to get off the streets for a while.”

“He’s your brother,” you murmur softly, shaking your head. “You wanted me to arrest your brother instead of reaching out to him yourself.” Diego grumbled something under his breath and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Our family...it’s complicated, Y/N. I just needed to know he was safe.”

“He’s still in a cell!” Your voice, louder than before, managed to catch the attention of a few passersby. Quietly, you added, “he’s waiting for someone to help him out, Diego.”

“I can’t,” he said, holding your gaze intensely. “If I could, I would, but Klaus...he...he won’t listen. Not to me.” You scoff and cross your arms over your chest indignantly.

“You don’t have to be so stubborn,” you chastise, “he’s your brother!”

“Adopted,” Diego adds with a timid half-smile. You only glare in response. “Y/N, you know that I...I don’t like to connect often with people. I haven’t connected with my family in years. Can you see why I wanted you to do it?” You huff in thought, not meeting his gaze.

“I can,” you answer, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” Diego nods silently, but surprises you when he grabs your hand. You look up at him to find a pleading expression.

“As my best friend-”

“Only friend,” you correct. Diego chuckles but continues anyway.

“As my best and only friend, I need you to do this for me. Please.” His gaze doesn’t break from yours once and you know he means what he says. You squeeze his hand gently and, finally, nod.

“I’ll take care of him,” you sigh and Diego smiles. “Is there anything I should know about him?” And then Diego’s smile fades.

“Y/N! Ah, my knight in shining armor!” Klaus’ voice rings in your ear the moment you step foot inside the jail. The police officer leading you give you a look and you nod.

“This one?” He gestures to Klaus, who is pressed eagerly against the bars, with his thumb. Klaus is beaming at you, batting his eyes like a star-struck girl. You can’t tell if he’s being over dramatic or if he’s truly glad to see you.

“That’s the one,” you sigh and the officer shrugs to himself before unlocking the cell. Klaus tumbles out of the cell and right into you. Just as he stumbles and nearly knocks his head against yours, you catch his shoulders.

“Ah, truly my savor,” he coos and you roll your eyes. Diego had failed to mention his charming flirtations when he recited a list of character flaws to you. Perhaps because it wasn’t that much of a flaw in the first place.

“All the paperwork is done,” the officer grumbled, “just like you said it would be.” You smile at him and nod. “Keep him out of trouble.”

“I’ll try my best,” you reply before striding out of the small cell-block. Klaus follows quickly behind you, laughing when the dealer from the bust questions him about his escape.

“I have friends in high places,” Klaus jeers and sends the man a wink. You try not to pay attention to the way Klaus says ‘friends’. It doesn’t hold the same weight it does when Diego says it. ‘Friends’ feels lighter in Klaus’ voice, almost like it is a sticker that could be easily removed and replaced with another.

You lead the lanky man out of the police headquarters and out to the bustling streets of the city. Klaus smiles at the sight of sunshine, stretching his arms up as if to embrace it. A pleased, relieved sigh escapes his lips as he stretches and you let yourself take in his form. The long coat he is wearing seems much too warm for the present climate, but the attire beneath it, a short cropped shirt and loose shorts, is better suited to the heat. Diego had warned you about his brother’s strange fashion sense.

“Thanks for busting me outta there,” Klaus chimed, breaking you from your observations. “Really, I can’t thank you enough.” Then, as if his words held no value at all, Klaus spun on his heels and began to walk away from you.

“Whoa, hey,” you exclaimed, running after him. He stopped mid stride and lifted his green eyes to your gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“You’re coming home with me,” you blurted in a rush. Your cheeks burned when you realized how that had sounded. Klaus was only grinning.

“Oh really? I didn’t know that-”

“Not like that,” you bark, even if the idea of it made you heart twinge. Klaus furrowed his brow and stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “You’re going to get clean.”

“What?!” His entire demeanor changed all at once. His hunched back straightened like an arrow and his face drew blank.

“I convinced the officers that arrested you to negate your fines and sentence on the promise you would get clean.” It was a lie, a well rehearsed line. Diego had paid for Klaus’ bail with what money he had saved as long as you promised to watch him.

“That wasn’t...why...you can’t…” Klaus’ hands went to his head with his fingers entangling in his dark hair. It was then you noticed just how soft it looked.

“You were right,” you interrupt and Klaus looks at you with slight panic in his eyes. “I’m not really a detective, but I am someone who keeps their promises. Now, are you going to come willingly or do I have to get help from inside.” You gesture the the police department doors with your head and Klaus groans.

“No,” he mutters before standing at your side. “Lead the way.”

Much to your surprise, Klaus was quiet for the duration of the walk to your apartment. Not a single sound passed over his lips, which was more alarming than his shameless flirting. Every so often, your hand would brush against Klaus’ and you would force yourself to keep staring forwards. It was so tempting to look down, see your hands in the same space together and wonder what holding them together would feel like. As soon as such a thought entered your mind you would shake it away. You couldn’t, just couldn’t. Or maybe you wouldn’t, because of Diego. Doubts assaulted your brain as you lead Klaus up the stairs to your apartment.

“I know it isn’t much,” you said, unlocking the door and pushed it open. “It will have to do until...ya know.” Klaus stepped inside, eyes wandering around the only home you had known since moving to the city.

“It’s more of a home than any other place I’ve lived in,” Klaus said and you were relieved to hear his voice once more. He turned to face you then, his features heavy with some unreadable emotion. “So...we’re roomies now?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, “we’re roomies.” Klaus picks up on your smile, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a slight grin. “There’s a small guest room down the hall so you can get settled in there if you want.”

“Sounds good,” Klaus says, already heading towards the hallway. He stops suddenly, his hand gripping the corner before turning to look at you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, Klaus,” you reply and he walks towards his room. You watch him saunter down the hall, the tapping of his sneakers against the floor a new sound to the apartment’s history of silence. Perhaps living with Klaus would turn out better than you thought. All you had to do was make sure your best friend’s brother stayed sober.

“I don’t see why you insist on Peking Garden when The Golden Dragon is far superior.” All you could do was sigh heavily as Klaus spoke through his mouth full of egg roll. “Like, I’m eating this, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Uh-huh, sure you’re not,” you tease, pulling out another take out box from the large paper bag in front of you. Klaus’ green eyes widened at the sight and stopped chewing.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“If ‘what you think it is’ is General Tso’s Chicken, you’re right,” you chime. Before you can even open to show him the contents of the container, Klaus has snatched it from your grasp and retreated to the couch. You had grown used to his habit of eating anywhere that wasn’t actually the kitchen table or counter. It was one of the many quirks you had started to admire.

Klaus was so unique and you had gotten a sense of the extent of that over the two months you had lived together. It was rough the first few weeks. The withdrawal symptoms had taken their toll on Klaus and yourself. Long nights of him moaning and groaning in pain on the bathroom floor. Sweating despite the air conditioning and the snappy attitude. Somehow, you both made it through alive. Although, every now and then, a few symptoms would show up again; a reminder that staying sober was a constant choice and struggle.

“Thank you, Y/N for getting me my favorite food,” you mocked Klaus’ voice teasingly, “I will do the dishes for the next two weeks to show you just how much I appreciate it.” You grabbed your own food and made your way over to the couch to join him. Klaus was already half-way through the chicken when you sat down.

“I can show you in other ways you know,” Klaus fired back, trying on his best seductive voice and wiggling his eyebrows. You stared at him with a straight face until Klaus frowned. “Someone is a wittle cranky,” he said in a childish voice, “are you cranky?”

He reached for your face and squished your cheeks together so your lips resembled that of a cartoon fish’s mouth. Klaus laughed at the sight and you pushed his hand away. You did your best to suppress the smile that threatened to show along your lips and the blush that rose to your cheeks. One thing you hadn’t gotten entirely used to was Klaus’ shows of affection and his endless flirting. It had been one of the first things you noticed about him and you figured it would die down as you lived together longer; but it hadn’t.

It had persisted to the point where you had asked Diego about it. You met up with him on official business one day and ended up talking about Klaus. Now, it felt like all you talked to anyone about was Klaus. Your friends swore that the two of you were dating and your colleagues at the firm often teased you about your plans to ‘reform the junkie’. Diego was no different, joking around about how Klaus doesn’t flirt with just anyone.

“Stop it,” you had pleaded, “I’m serious!”

“So am I!” Diego beamed then, “Klaus has a type and you’re it.”

You often forget or cut the memory of Diego’s words from your mind. Klaus was in condition to think about you, or anyone else for that matter, romantically. At least, that’s what you thought. So you ignored the times when you had caught him staring at you a bit longer than normal or threw an arm over your shoulders in public. Friendly touches were just Klaus’ thing. It was just Klaus.

“Do you want me to do the dishes?” Klaus’ question broke you from your reverie.

“I would like you to,” you reply, “I’ve told you to do them since Monday.” Klaus smiled sheepishly and nodded.

“I guess I just forgot.” You let out a huff, shaking your head.

“You must have a selective memory because I’ve told you more than once.” A chuckle passed through Klaus, one so powerful you could feel it rumble against the couch cushions.

“Perhaps I do,” he beamed, “but we’ll never know for sure because my memory is shit!” Klaus stuffed the last few bites of food in his mouth, a happy hum slipping from his lips.

“You’re easy to please,” you remark with a smirk. Klaus swallows his food and stacks the empty containers on the coffee table before him on top of each other.

“That’s right,” Klaus cheered, “all I need is food and someone who loves me enough to order me more.” He leans over and pecks your cheek softly, though the figurative impact sent your mind reeling. You spared a glance at him, one that conveyed your shock simply with wide eyes, only to find Klaus smiling at you contently.

Before you could speak up, call his actions and words into question, Klaus stood from the couch. He stretched and sighed loudly as he picked up the take out boxes. Watching as he threw the containers in the trash, you wondered if Klaus had truly meant anything with what he said. He had used the word ‘love’, said it in a way he hadn’t before.

‘Love’ was a word Klaus seemed to apply to things and people liberally. Just last week he ‘loved’ the cheese used Diana’s Pizza place and said that he ‘loved’ the refreshing take of a character on a weekly, late-night soap opera. Klaus ‘loved’ Queen and The Cure and cookies; was it possible that he could love you in the present tense? The idea was outlandish to you, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t entertained hypotheticals.

“Y/N?” Klaus’ sing-song voice pulled your attention back to the moment and out of your own mind. You turned to look at him, a pink flush on your cheeks.

“Yes? What?” Klaus smiled, resting his hands on his hips in a sassy pose. He leaned forward as if he were peering into your soul. Under his eyes, you felt such an intensity you had to tear your gaze from his.

“I was asking if you wanted to see a flick? Go to the movies maybe?” His tone reminded you of a child, weary but wishful.

“I, if you want to go you can go yourself,” you suggest, clearing your throat. You sneak a tentative peek at Klaus, gauging his reaction. To your astonishment, he is frowning. Disappointment is clear on his features, but you don’t look too long before he peers back up at you with curiosity.

“Do you have work or something?” You met his eyes for a moment and shake your head.

“No,” you reply nonchalantly, “why do you ask?” You turn your attention back to your food, pushing it around on the plate you had piled it on.

“I mean, it would be...you could come to the movies with me.” You smile to yourself and glance at him. It felt like just yesterday he was pleading for you to let him outside by himself when you knew all too well that he was searching for the means to get high. Now he didn’t want to go out alone.

“If you want me to, I can go,” you respond quietly, “I just figured that you would want to go by yourself. Independence and all that.” Klaus lets out a short, breathy laugh and shakes his head. You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Are you kidding? I don’t want to be that creep that sits alone in a theater watching some sad dog movie.” You quirk a brow at him and Klaus’ smile widens. “We’re gonna see a sad dog movie by the way.” You let out a groan and sink deeper into the couch.

“I may have to rethink my offer.”

“This is the last time you pick the movie we see,” you sniffle as you wipe the corner of your eye. Klaus is quiet, dabbing at his own tears quite dramatically as you step out of the theater. A whimper from him and you take the sound as an agreement.

“I didn’t think it would be that...that sad,” Klaus exclaimed. He reached for the door and held it open for you. The blue skies had turned to a crisp black dotted with stars. “An honest mistake, Y/N, really.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I get to choose next time,” you fire back and Klaus nods, giving in. You begin to walk home, the chill of night nipping at your face. A shiver shakes through you and you wrap your arms around yourself as you walk.

“Cold?” Klaus laughs when he sees your arms and, shocking you, he wraps an arm around your waist. Soon, you coated in the warmth emanating from his body. Silence falls between you and you don’t mind it. You relish in it, a stolen moment with just you and Klaus without ‘what ifs’ clouding your mind.

You both walk like that, shared quiet, shared warmth, all the way to your shared home. The thought made you smile to yourself, unable to fathom how you had gotten to where you were. However, the moment you spared a glance up at Klaus as you both walked, the need to understand ceased to be. You didn’t need understanding, you just needed Klaus. That fact terrified and excited you at the same time.

“You’re cute when you cry,” Klaus murmurs suddenly. You crane your neck and study his face with a furrowed brow.

“You get your jollies from watching me cry?” You can’t help but laugh at your own words, the sound mingling with Klaus’ own chuckle.

“I don’t jollies from anything! What even is a jollie?” The moment the question passes over his lips, you are both standing in front of the entrance to the apartment complex. Fumbling with your keys, you unlock the door and you both begin to ascend the stairs.

“You know,” you trail off, letting the term remain vague. You hear Klaus scoff from behind you as you continue to climb the steps.

“I don’t,” he retorts, “that’s why I’m asking.” You sigh heavily but you don’t reply. You turn on the first landing and down the hall to the door to your apartment. “Y/N!”

“What-” Before you could finish, your back is pressed up against the door to your apartment. Klaus looms over you, green eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. All you could see was Klaus and you didn’t mind that one bit.

“You talk about sex like an old man,” he whispered teasingly. If it weren’t for the fact that his hand was suddenly wrapped around yours, you would have replied with a clever comeback. With his skin on yours, your mind drew a blank. “Jollies,” he smiled, “you’re cute.”

Heat rises to your face and you open your mouth to speak, yet not a word comes out. Instead, Klaus’ fingers work your hand open and plucks the keys from your grip. A new type of tension rests between you and Klaus, only to evaporate when he opens the door behind you. You nearly tumble backwards into your apartment, but Klaus reacts quickly. A warm hand slips around your back and holds you steady.

“Th-thanks,” you quickly free yourself from Klaus’ hold. The arm that had been wrapped around your waist falls slack at his side. With practiced ease, Klaus tosses the keys in the dish beside the door as you make your way to your bedroom.

“Goodnight,” Klaus calls out. You look over your shoulder and give him a quick smile.

“N-Night,” you reply, mentally cursing your nervous stutters. Your mind is whirling as you dress for bed and crawl under the covers. You had to be up early tomorrow to meet Diego. There was no time to entertain ‘should-have-done’ thoughts. Embarrassment steamed from your limbs as you boiled in your own emotional sauna. At least you would be warm as you drifted off to sleep.

Despite the intrusive thoughts, sleep came unusually easy. Memories of your dream was vague. It was all cream colored and soft, like lamb’s wool. The scent of smoke, nicotine permeated the wondrous texture but wasn’t harsh enough to taint the dream itself. Some lucid part of you wanted to cling to the imagery, the warmth forever. It seemed reality had other plans.

The average person would say that waking up to screaming would be terrifying. For you, it was a din you had grown accustomed to. Since the first weeks of Klaus living with you, when withdrawal was at its peak, night terrors replaced the drugs flitting through his mind. Often, those beginning days, you would be scared awake by Klaus’ screeching.

So it was instinct by now, to throw your legs over the side of your bed and crept down the hall to Klaus’ room. The cries only seem to grow louder as you approached. Whatever demons where haunting him tonight were truly vile. Cracking open his door, you caught sight of Klaus thrashing about under his covers. His eyes were screwed shut, his hands grasping at the sheets below him and at his hair.

“Klaus,” you said softly, tiptoeing over to the side of his bed, “Klaus, wake up.” Your hands reached for his shoulders, pressing down lightly. The pressure was enough to still him but he was still yelling. “Hey, hey, you’re alright.”

“Y/N,” he gasped, his hands flying up to your forearms. With your hands still on his shoulders, Klaus was able to wrap his long fingers around your wrists.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you soothe, “you’re alright.” Klaus’ green eyes are bright, sparkling with the fear he felt moments before. The sight breaks your heart.

“I-I...I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“It’s alright,” you said, giving him a gentle smile. Before you can calm him, tell him you weren’t really sleeping, a yawn forced its way to your face.

“I woke you up,” Klaus whispers, his fingers tracing shapes in the tender skin of your inner wrist. “Y/N, I can just-”

“Quiet,” you interrupt, “now scoot over.” Klaus moves to the side as you let go of his shoulders. Easily, you slip in beside him, resting on your side with your head hitting his pillow. This wasn’t what an entirely awake, clear-headed Y/N would do; but you were so tired and still dizzy from all of Klaus’ flirting during the day that you didn’t care. Klaus didn’t seem to mind either.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispers, turning to his side to face you. You give him a lazily, sleep-ridden smile.

“You’re welcome, Klaus.” You try to keep your eyes open but sleep claws you back into its depths. In that haze of falling, you’re still awake enough to know that Klaus’s eyes were still trained on you. With that in mind, you drifted off into darkness.

Morning light would normally greet you when you found enough willpower to open your eyes. However, Klaus’ room was interior and lacked a window. Instead of the sun warming your skin, the warmth came from elsewhere. Slowly, you peeled your eyes wide only to be greeted by Klaus’ face a mere three or so inches from your own. His eyes were downcast, attention focused on his side that was tracing nonsense into a patch of skin your sleep shirt had left exposed during the night.

Klaus had not yet noticed you were awake, let alone staring at him. You couldn’t help but marvel at the way his lashes fanned out, kissing the soft skin of his cheek when he blinked. His pink lips were parted slightly with steady breaths, the very antithesis of his erratic gasping the night before, slipping past the flesh. A few dark wisps of his hair were pressed against his forehead. Nothing you could have done would have quelled the urge to brush them from his face. When your fingertips pushed the hairs to the side, Klaus shifted into the touch.

“Hi,” he said softly, almost like if he spoke any louder your eardrum might burst. Klaus was timid, for the first time in a long time. The hand that was resting, tickling your skin now retracted and found a new spot in the space between your bodies.

“Did you get some sleep?” You hold Klaus’ gaze, reading him for the truth.

“I think so,” he murmurs, “I think I got more hours that I usually do.”

“Good,” you reply, your voice suddenly shy. “That’s good.”

“It is,” Klaus hums, “thanks to you.” Heat rises to your cheeks instantly and you press the side of your face further into the plush pillow.

“What do you mean?” Klaus smiles at you with slightly hooded eyes.

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” he points out, “we’re just both too comfortable to do anything about it.” You swallow thickly and, seeming to notice your unease, Klaus reaches for your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. We don’t have to do anything.”

“No,” you gush, “it’s not that. I just...you’re right. We’re comfortable and I don’t want that to change.” Klaus nods against his own pillow with his fingers playing with your own. His green eyes are trained on your joined hands, plush lips slightly downturned. “Does that make you sad?”

“Not at all,” Klaus whispers, pulling his eyes up to meet yours. “But...if I kiss you, would that be uncomfortable?” Your mouth opens and goes dry all at once. Klaus leans up on his elbow, the covers slipping down his exposed chest. “I mean, I don’t want to push it.”

“I think that would be fine,” you reply, trying to regain your composure. Klaus smiles softly down at you, biting his lower lip as he searches your eyes. You know that he’s looking for more permission, he wants you to want him in the same way he yearns for you. So instead of waiting, you reach a hand up to his face, holding his chin.

The tip of your thumb traces the curve of his lips, brushing against the coarse hairs of his chin. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and his jaw was looking sharper for it. It was a good look for him you muse as you study his features before closing the gap between you. You didn’t know what you expected Klaus’ lips to feel like against your own.

Smoke maybe, the one habit he hadn’t been able to break; perhaps of the spearmint toothpaste he used every night before bed. As Klaus’ lips melded with yours, all hypotheses fell null and void. You felt his right hand grasp at your waist, pulling you closer until your chest was pressed against his own. Trailing down then, his hand gripping your thigh and tugged over his own. The movement, the heat gathering was tantalizing.

Before you had the chance to deepen the kiss, Klaus began to pepper kisses against your jaw. “I’ve wanted this since the day you got me arrested,” Klaus mumbles before breaking out into a chuckle. You begin to laugh as well.

“Really? Wow,” you managed to say. Klaus pressed his face into the crook of your neck, the cold tip of his nose tickling the sensitive skin there. “That’s the most unromantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Hm, I thought it was nice,” Klaus whispered teasingly, pressing a soft kiss to the skin below your ear. “Guess I’ll just have to practice, huh?” Klaus dipped his head down then, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was more heated than the last, your fingers reaching to tangle into his hair. Klaus was tugging your body on top of his, parting your mouth with his tongue when a high-pitched beeping sounded from somewhere else in the apartment.

“Shit!” You quickly stumble out of Klaus’ bed, much to the man’s disappointment.

“That bad?” Klaus tuts and you shake your head as you straighten out your sleepwear.

“No,” you huff, “I’m going to be late.” Klaus smiles as you scurry out his room and into your own across the hall. In record time, you dress and get ready in the bathroom.

You’re putting the finishing touches to your hair, just so it looks presentable, when you notice Klaus leaning against the day frame. There’s a lazy smile on his full, kiss-swollen lips, as his bright eyes blaze trails up and down your figure. His arms are crossed over his still bare chest and you force yourself to tear your eyes away. When you’re satisfied with your work, you step towards him with a raised brow.

“What?”

“You’re stunning,” he says softly and you feel your heart melt in your chest. You reach up and hold his chin, only to pull his lips to yours. This kiss is softer, not rushed despite the internal panic of being late still coursing through your body.

“I’ll be back later,” you mumble against Klaus’ lips as you pull away. Klaus nods and presses a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And I’ll be here.” You give him a smile before making your way towards the apartment door. You’re still smiling as you descend the steps. With a clear mind, unhindered from thoughts or worries, you come to the conclusion that you could get used to goodbyes like that.

“You’re late,” Diego says flatly, but you don’t miss the grin plastered on his features. “I had to get my coffee all by myself.”

“Like a big boy,” you fire back as you plop down on the bench beside him. “Do you have the name of-”

“Yes, here,” Diego interrupts, extending a slip of paper to you between two of his fingers. You pluck it from his hand and tuck it into your pocket. It is then, and only then, you allow yourself to catch your breath. “So….”

“So?” You repeat, looking over at Diego as he stirs his still-steaming java.

“You slept with my brother yet?” The bluntness of his question cause you to choke on the air you had begun to inhale. You sit up, coughing and Diego chuckles. “You have!”

“No,” you begin, “no I...not really.” Diego quirks a brow at you, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Not really? But you have slept, like, next to him then?” You find it hard to meet your best friend’s eyes, so you distract yourself with a couple walking a small dog.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer, “it wasn’t really the plan…”

“Nothing is planned with Klaus,” Diego hums grimly, but when you look at him, he isn’t outright disappointed.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Diego give you a half-smile, a signature look from him before he shakes his head.

“I just hope we don’t have a family reunion anytime soon.” A sigh of relief escapes your lungs, followed by a laugh. Diego doesn’t chuckle along with you. He means what he says, for reasons still unknown to you; but you’ll know soon enough.

[baeklination]

구름 도시  (Cloud City)  pt.1

Warnings/Contains: None really. Some light cursing. General talk about the case, but nothing explicit.

au: members of the justice system

Characters: Baekhyun, Kai, Suho, Sehun

WC:3400

Date:200523

Masterpost      Part 2

                                           ¤¤¤

APRIL 17th

  Jun-myeon poked his head out of his office.

“Byun, we’ve got a girl reported missing, go talk to her parents will you?”

Baek-hyun grabbed the holster from his chair, out of habit more than anything

“How old?”

“She’s twenty-six, Cho Min-young, lives in Hammer Hill. Her parents are waiting”

Baek-hyun slowed down and raised an eyebrow at his boss.

“Jun, you know I’m not a star case- guy, but a missing twenty-six year-old..? I thought you meant a kid. She’s probably at a boyfriend's house-”

“Nope”

“Girlfriend then-”

“They’ve called everyone they can think of, and she didn’t show up for work this morning. Come on, Byun, as a favour; it’ll be in and out. Take the new guy with you, show him how the pro’s do it”. Jun-myeon shot a wide smile at him, knowing he’d won Baek-hyun over.

  In the middle of the stations commotion sat a young detective, trying his best to look as if he hadn’t overheard the conversation between Baek-hyun and the lieutenant, but he felt like a kid waiting for his fun uncle to collect him.

“Come on, Jong-in, you heard the boss”, Baek-hyun said, approaching him. “Is it alright if we drop the honorifics, can I speak informally to you?”

“Yes, it’s okay, Mr.Byun, you can speak informally.” Jong-in nodded with a slightly nervous smile.

“We, Jong-in. We speak informally. No mr, hyung, or nim, please.”

 Having reached the car, Baek-hyun waited for Jong-in’s reaction( although if anyone asked, he’d never admit to such vanity).

“Shit, this is your car? It’s a beauty!”, Jong-in exclaimed when he realized what ride was theirs. “You’re in to the classics?”

Baek-hyun chuckled and feigned embarrassment.

 “Yeah, this is my Old Betty”, but the charade only lasted a moment. “70’s Coupe Deville - Cadillac, obviously. My father brought it back from the States in the 80’s”. Seeing the question on Jong-in’s face Baek-hyun continued “He went to college over there, and saw this darling; dirt cheap if you ask him - a prettier penny than that if you ask my mother. He retired it a while back, and let me buy it. Actually, he would never let me buy it - I’ve been paying for their weekly grocery shopping without him knowing for the past two years now” he laughed, and Jong-in, now more relaxed, rolled his eyes in a I-know-the-type-way. Reaching in and popping the hood he gestured for Jong-in to follow him.

 “See” he pointed to the machinery “the engine was alright, but I know a mechanic, so I had it fitted with a V8, and the normal updates; better versions of things they had in the original. I know, I know, the original is the soul and all that - but I don’t want my girl going bust when I’m doing 110 on the highway chasing bad guys, you know”. Jong-in nodded, but this part was beyond him. “Now she’s got 600 HP and manages 130 km and hour, easy”, Baek-hyun shamelessly bragged as they got in the car. It wasn’t any wonder really, the car was in top condition; the body a dark, almost black, brown, grill and hubcaps gleaming like they were newly polished, and the inside a creamy dream of tan leather and red details. 

“So, do you also have a classic?”, Baek-hyun’s eyes were shining with anticipation. Jong-in might’ve opened a Pandora’s box here, and he didn’t want to make a bad impression on their first day together, but decided that honesty was always the best route.

“No, I wish..! If I knew anything about cars then maybe I could buy an oldie, fix it up myself, you know, but I’ve never been good at cars. And buying one in good condition…”, he sighed.

Baek-hyun whistled “Hell, I couldn’t afford that, and I’m a couple of pay grades above you..!”.

“Yeah, and with my kid, I think it’s better to save than splurge. Our Honda runs good enough.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you  have a kid. Boy or girl? Give me the deets.”

“Girl, Yong-sun. She’s eight months old, home with mommy - my girlfriend. We’ve been together seven years”, Jong-in said, almost stumbling over the last part, in case Baek-hyun would find it improper that he had a child before getting married.

“That long..! Congrats man, then you know it’s tried, tested and true”, Baek-hyun said, calming Jong-in’s nerves. Driving out of the garage he changed tone to a serious, albeit still relaxed, one “So, what d’you think; girl really missing or just out of reach? Pitch me some scenarios, rookie.”

                                                   ¤¤¤

  Having parked on the side of the street, Baek-hyun stepped out and surveyed the area for a while. Hammer Hill was a nice neighbourhood; not the highest echelons of society, but definitely upper middle-class. 

“Pretty nice place for a single twenty-something to live in, no?”

“Pretty nice for anyone”, Jong-in replied. “But those online stars make a lot of money, you know”.

“This much?” Baek-hyun frowned in disbelief. “You think she’s doing something on the side? Catering to a different audience, so to speak? Wouldn’t be the first time”, Baek-hyun sighed, while he started up the stairs. Jong-in, not wanting to offend anyone, erred on the side of caution 

“I don’t know, anything is possible. But making this much money in a…” he hesitated “...pure way is also possible”.

“First lesson passed, rookie: avoid jumping to stereotypical conclusions”, Baek-hyun said with a dunk on Jong-in’s back, as they walked up to the door. After ringing the doorbell Baek-hyun turned to Jong-in and hurriedly said:

“But don’t mention prostitution to her parents, okay? Don’t say anything to alarm them further. We want them to remain calm, so they don’t forget to mention anything. Besides, she’ll probably pop up in the next day or so. Just try to...get a feel for the situation. You’ll be doing a lot of these house calls, trust me”.

The door was opened by Min-young’s mother, a woman in her fifties, without any especially distinguishing features, except for the worry in her eyes. 

“Mrs. Cho, I’m detective Byu-”

“Oh, finally, thank god, come in”, Mrs. Cho exclaimed with relief, and moved so they could go in. “I apologize, it’s a mess, but I didn’t want to touch anything in case…” her voice faded. She ushered Baek-hyun and Jong-in to the living-room, where an older man - presumably Mr.Cho - and a younger man stood up to great the detectives. Baek-hyun gave it another try.

“Good afternoon, Sir, I’m detective Byun, this is my colleague detective Kim”, he said and took the man’s hand with a warm smile “you must be Mr. Cho”.

“Detective Byun, Kim”, Mr. Cho said with a short nod to them “Thank you for coming.” Gesturing to the young man he continued “this is Oh Sehun, Min-young’s friend”. They exchanged remaining pleasantries and sat down. 

“So, tell us, what’s going on; the lieutenant said you haven’t heard from Min-young - is it okay if I call her Min-young?” he interjected, remembering his manners. After getting the okay from Mr. and Mrs. Cho he continued “So, still nothing new from Min-young since...yesterday evening, was it? Tell us what happened”. Mrs. Cho, with a slight tremble in her voice started 

“Well, it wasn’t anything special yesterday, really. It’s not that we had plans and she didn’t show up. But I tried calling her in the evening, but she didn’t pick up the phone. We tried calling a couple of times, but when it got late we figured maybe she was just really busy, and decided to wait until the morning.” 

“But she hasn’t picked up today either”, Mr. Cho chimed in. “I tried calling at eight thirty, right before she goes to work, but she didn’t answer, so I tried her office...nothing. They still haven’t heard from her” he said, holding his palms up. Baek-hyun sensed Mr. Cho was more perplexed than scared, which would be helpful in locating her, as opposed to Mrs. Cho, who might overlook something because of the stress she clearly was under.

“Excuse me”, Jong-in said in a low voice, and the whole company looked at him with surprise, almost having forgotten about his presence. “You said she went to her office; wasn’t she a social media personality? She didn’t work from home?”

Good catch, Baek-hyun thought.

“Oh, no. She used to, but she felt a bit cooped up working from home, so she moved to a small office space in Rolling Hills; in the Gigamex complex.” 

  Baek-hyun let Jong-in take the lead, try his wings, so to speak, and focused more on scribbling down names and dates in his police issued notepad (he found that it made people feel as if he really listened if he used pen and paper instead of some smart device). This also gave him the opportunity to gauge their reactions to any questions, to make sure they were on the up-and-up. And what of this Sehun character? Up until now he’d been quiet, only a few nods and nervous hands clasped together. Interrupting his train of thought, Jong-in continued

“And who was it you talked to at the office?”

“Michelle. We don’t know her last name, but she’s Min-young’s assistant, she helps her with editing and her calendar, I think”. One could tell that world wasn’t Mr. Cho’s arena, but he was close enough with his daughter to have heard a bit about it. Mrs. Cho picked up her mobile, and after a few scrolls held it out for Baek-hyun to copy

“Here. This is her number. She couldn’t say much, but if you want to talk to her...” Baek-hyun received it with a barely distinguishable bow and took her number down.

“Do you know if anyone was...less than nice to her online? Did she ever mention anything specific?” Jong-in knew the price of putting yourself out there often was people being rude, nasty, or worse, so he wanted to make sure he covered at least some of the bases. And to be honest, as distasteful as it may sound it was exhilarating; his first interview in the field. And he seemed to know a thing or two more than Baek-hyun about this topic, so he got to shine a little. But her parents were adamant about her job not being an issue here. 

“Her channel is about arts and crafts, making things from scratch, baking and those kinds of things. The people who write her are kind. Sure, there are a some rude people, but most of them are so sweet”, Mrs. Cho said.

“What about a boyfriend, was she seeing anybody?”, Baek-hyun asked and looked at Sehun, as did her parents “Are you..?”

For the first time Sehun let go of his hands, and waved no. 

“No, no. We’ve been friends since middle school, she’s like my sister. And jogging buddy. We go running a couple days a week, have dinner or coffee after. We were supposed to go yesterday evening, but she cancelled”, Sehun explained.

“When was that?” Baek-hyun recognized the sign of voluntary M.I.A. Sehun unlocked his phone and showed the caller log to Baek-hyun “17.12. We usually meet up around five thirty, so it’s odd that she cancelled with such little notice”.

“Did she say why, or sound different in any way?”

“No. She said it wasn’t anything special, she just had something to do. But when I asked her again she wouldn’t say. I was kinda annoyed, but now...” Sehun shrugged his shoulders and looked so hopeless he almost made Baek-hyun think something had happened to Min-young. But being the veteran he was he knew the majority of these cases ended happily - a lost phone, a drunken night, or a secret boyfriend - so he composed himself and gave them a smile.

“I know you’re all very worried right now, but trust me when I say we get a lot of calls like these, and it almost always ends up being some kind of misunderstanding. But we’ll follow up on these tips you’ve given us when we get back to the station, of course. Could we just have a quick look around the apartment, to see if anything seems amiss?”

                                           ¤¤¤

  Having seen nothing suspicious in Min-young’s apartment they assured the Cho’s that they would call them the next day, and said their goodbyes. 

“You did good up there, Jong-in”, Baek-hyun complimented his partner for the day. “What are your thoughts?”

“Thank you, Byu-Baek-hyun” Jong-in stuttered, making Bae-hyun laugh.”I feel bad for them. But like you said, they almost always come back. So...do we talk to her assistant, get phone records from Min-young’s cell provider?”

“Phone records takes more than...” Baek-hyun looked at his watch “than the two hours we have left. Let’s call the assistant, and you can run down locations of CCTV in the area”.

“To see when she left the apartment and which way she went…”

“We’ll take a closer look tomorrow morning if she’s still not back. So her friend, Oh Sehun…” Baek-hyun let the question hang in the air.

“Yeah. Do you usually see friends joining this early? He’s probably telling the truth, but…” 

“But..?” Baek-hyun echoed for Jong-in to continue.

“Well, he was the last one to talk to her. And did she really not say anything to him?”

“Exactly. I don’t think he’s hurt her, but it’s possible - likely even - that he might know more than he’s telling. Remember what I said about catering to a different audience? Let’s do a quick background check and talk to him tomorrow. Maybe he’ll be more open when the girl’s parents aren’t around.”

  Back at the station Jong-in started working on the CCTV footage while Baek-hyun went to update Jun-myeon.

“Hey, boss...”, he knocked on the frosted glass window, but didn’t wait for a reply before he opened the door. Jun-myeon was on the phone, but gestured for Baek-hyun to come in.

“...twisted baguettes, not ordinary ones, got it. Bye, love” he said, hung up and shared one of his life lessons with Baek-hyun “happy wife, happy life. Now, how’d it go?” Baek-hyun ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

 “As expected, I’d say. They were worried, but it hasn’t been that long. We’re gonna run down some leads they gave us before calling it a day”.

“Okay, sounds good. And Jong-in?”

“Yeah, he did good, boss. And he likes my girl”, Baek-hyun smiled.

“Ah, Byun-ah..!”, Jun-myeon exclaimed “That’s why you like him, ‘cus he likes your car..!”

Baek-hyun choked a smile “No, he’s good, honestly. But why does he get to be “Jong-in” while I’m still my surname?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow. Jun-myeon countered by raising both brows.

“Because I don’t want nine guys in my office every time I ask for Kim, is why he’s “Jong-in”...”. Baek-hyun clicked his tongue and pointed at Jun-myeon.

“Got it. Well, I’m gonna do some digging with the time I’ve got left”, he said and stood up.

“You’re a star player, Byun. Fighting!”, Jun-myeon said jokingly as Baek-hyun closed the door.

                                           ¤¤¤

  Baek-hyun and Jong-in had punched out after checking off their list. There wasn’t much to see, really; the assistant, Michelle, hadn’t seen Min-young so she couldn’t offer much assistance, ironically enough. And as far as Sehun goes, he seemed to be harmless; no citations, no odd-ball photos or rants on the internet...just a guy. Nonetheless, Baek-hyun had begun to feel a touch uneasy about the whole thing, so after shutting the engine off in the driveway he called the precinct and asked the officer on the night shift to send a request for Min-young’s  phone records. 

Better safe than sorry, he said to himself. Locking the car door was his queue to give his work mind a rest, and it wasn’t hard to do when he saw the note on his front door: 17.25 You have a houseguest, B!(Cover shift) It was signed with a winking smiley inside the O of the name “Veró”. Baek-hyun chuckled, spirits lifted. He had barely opened the door before a little corgi was upon him, tap-dancing around his feet with bright eyes. Baek-hyun put his blazer on a valet stand and bent down to greet his guest.

“Well, hi there, Mongi..! What are you doing here?” he said while playfully wrestling with the dog “Did you tell mommy to drop you of at the fun house?” He looked at his watch; an hour ago. “We might as well go out now, nugget. And then it’s dinner for the both of us - I’m famished!”. 

  With his parents living a couple of hours away, having Veró and Mongi was a real blessing to him. It’s not every day you meet someone you’re almost a hundred percent comfortable with; may it be in silence, changing clothes, physical interaction, crying or ugly laughing. Veró (short for Verónica) had moved in next door almost three years ago, and they instantly hit it off. Well, it wasn’t the right hit at first. They had dated for about four months when they both realized that they weren’t lovers’ material. The reason they felt exceedingly comfortable with each other was because they were best friends. They called it quits on the romantic part and now hung out as just friends; dinners, talks through the night, even sleepovers - and of course the semi-shared custody of Veró’s dog Mongi. Baek-hyun had fallen in love with him the first time he saw him, and insisted she name him Mongryong, but Veró was dead set on “Miguel”, a latin singer, or “the sun of Mexico” as she called him. They ended up having a marathon of games and soju to decide who would get the honours, and to Veró’s dismay Baek-hyun won, and the rest is history. 

  Since Veró left so late he knew she was covering for someone from the night shift and therefore didn’t expect her to be back until early morning at best, so after dinner they both curled up in bed: Mongi with a bone and Baek-hyun with the latest issue of Journal of Forensic Sciences.

“The things they can find out with forensics these days, Mongi, I tell ya...” Baek-hyun sighed, and Mongi looked at him, breathing heavily from his ferocious battle with the bone. “That’s right, pay attention, so you don’t go out in the streets acting like a fool.” He put the magazine on the nightstand as well as taking off his t-shirt before turning off the light - the queue for Mongi to curl up in the crook of Baek-hyun’s knees. 

“Good night, nugget.”  

APRIL 18th

  Baek-hyun was the quintessential morning person, so when the alarm went off at 06.00 he immediately got up. The same could not be said about Mongi.

“Rise and shine, Mongi. Time to do some laps”, Baek-hyun cooed while putting on his sweats. But it would take the sound of food being prepared for Mongi to bounce out in to the kitchen. 

“You try it every time, and I tell you every time: walk, then food.” 

  The air was chilly, a typical late spring morning, and there was an overcast hinting rain would come before long. He may not look it, but the dog was a top runner, so Baek-hyun could jog at a pace that made his heart rate go up a few notches, all the way down to the river, about twenty minutes away. He stopped by a drinking fountain, giving Mongi a few palms of water and splashed his face and water-combed his hair back. The clouds had lifted by the horizon, and the sunrise stained the clouds a yellowy apricot and Baek-hyun took it all in; these precious still and silent mornings were the favourite part of his day. He felt a tug on the leash, so he snapped out of it and they started back home for breakfast and a shower.

  He wrapped a towel around his waist, draped a second one over his shoulders and made his way to the kitchen. A lot of Baek-hyun’s colleagues ate at work, but he preferred to have a quiet breakfast at home before all the hustle and bustle, so he sat down with his cup of black coffee and rye porridge. He was halfway through his meal when his phone rang, so his slippered feet shuffled to the bedroom:

“A call this early is never good, boss.” He sat down on the bed with a sinking feeling.

“Sorry, Byun. We’ve got a body, female. Under Pioneer’s Bridge. She hasn’t been identified, but…” Jun-myeon paused.

“You think it might be her.”

[fictionaldemon]

Into the Unknown

So I know previously I made a little Bakugou x OC short. Now I’m going to write her into the story of My Hero Academia. 

OC: Koiki Inagaki but likes to be called Koi Hair Color: Dark Navy Blue Eye Color: Orange  Quirk: Darkness Solidification and Umbrageous  (Not different than what i originally wrote but now I have actual names for them) Episode 1

When Koi was 5 years old she moved across the country to live with her grandparents. Her parents were villains and when they had gotten into deep trouble she left the comfort of what she knew to live in a tiny apartment with adults she barely knows. This adjustment wasn’t the easiest especially when her quirk was slowly becoming more apparent.

Over time she became accustomed to her grandparents. Her grandmother’s kindness and patience when Koi would be in a mood to her grandfather’s ability to make her laugh with his silly antics even though his face was always stoic. For the first time in her short life spam of existing she had a real family that put her needs first and cared. 

Around the time when they felt that she would be ready to go to school she was introduced to Izuku Midoriya, the shy boy that lived across the hall with his mother. She had seen him a few times around their apartment but never attempted to interact with him. Her grandmother invited their neighbors over for tea in hopes that Koi would have at least one friend when she went off to school. 

Needless to say there was nothing to worry about. They became fast friends and attached to the hip. Koi learned that the boy didn’t have a quirk of his own. She confessed she wished she didn’t have her quirk as her parents weren’t very nice people. From that day on they promised to help each other be the best heroes that they could be when they were older. 

When they went to school the next day, Koi was nervous to say the least but all worries washed away when her new friend reassured her that school will be great and that she will meet his close friend, Katsuki. 

When she first met this close friend, she wasn’t sure how to feel about him. He bragged about his quirk all the time and Izuku just hyped him up even more. When recess was happening she went to go play catch with her new friend but the spiky blond was not about it. 

“Sorry, you can’t play.” He stopped her on her tracks. 

“Well why not? I want to play with my friend Izuku.”

“Well Deku is playing with us, and we don’t play with girls, They’re lame.” He stated simply. 

“Kacchan, she’s really nice and can play with us.” Izuku defended at the same time as Koi muttered “Your quirk is lame.” 

Katsuki just stared at disbelief that this girl just insulted his amazing quirk. “My quirk is the best of the best!” Koi shrugged at his comment not really meeting his eyes. “I’ve seen better.” Izuku was lowkey having a panic attack as his current and new friend were fighting and he was unsure what to do. 

“That’s it, you’re going to play with us so you can see how strong and amazing I am!” He barked out angrily as he tossed the ball to Koi. She caught the ball surprised but then smiled at her tiny victory and tossed the ball to Izuku. 

Since that day, Koi and Katsuki would tolerate each other for Izuku’s sake until they actually got over their childish antics and actually became friends. 

----Years Later---

Koi sat day dreaming out the window as her teacher was making his final remarks about our time at Aldera Junior High. She gazed over when everyone got rowdy with excitement over becoming future heroes. She gazed over to her best friend Izuku who sadly raised his hand about the hero track. She knew it was difficult for him having big ambitions even though he was quirkless. 

“Hey teach! Don’t let me in with this buncha losers. I’m the real deal,, but these guys’ll be lucky to end up as sidekicks to some busted D-Lister.” Katsuki confidently stated which caused the class to break into angry chaos telling him off. 

Izuku and I just looked at each other and playfully rolled our eyes knowing how overly cocky our friend can be at times. Didn’t help either that the teacher was boosting his ego more over his amazing test results. “That’s exactly why it’s the only place worthy of me, I aced all the mock tests. I’m the only one at this school who stands a chance at getting in, besides my best girl of course as a close second.” He jumps up on the desk ranting on how great he will become. I used my power to smack a square of shadow over his mouth as duck tape annoyed and the force pushed him on his ass back into his seat. “I’m so glad your big ego even considered me as an after thought.” I grumbled out. He glared over at me once the shadow disappeared off him and Izuku was sweating that we might break out into a fight in the middle of the classroom. 

“Oh yeah, Midoriya, don’t you wanna to to UA too?” the teacher questioned. Katsuki was stunned into another dimension as the class broke out into laughter tormenting my poor friend into defending his dreams from being crushed.

Of course that just boosted Katsuki to jump into action and taunting him even more against the wall. “You’re even worse than these damn rejects, you quirkless wannabe. You really think they would let you in when they could have me?” alright enough was enough. I jumped in the middle of the two boys and created a shield between me and the hot head.”That’s enough!” I yelled while Izuku was rambling to defend himself. “You’d never be able to hang with the best of the best. You’d die in the exams! You even need my girlfriend to defend you right here!” “We all have the right to try at the entrance exams and do our best. Worry about yourself Katsuki and move on!” I barked out and glared at him as my eyes glowed completely orange as my emotions were flaring. The bell finally rang for class dismissal. Katsuki scoffed and grabbed his stuff before walking angrily out with the rest of the class. 

I finally calmed down and sighed. “What am I going to do with that kid? Hey, are you ok?” I asked as i offered a hand for Izuku to stand up. “You didn’t have to jump in like that... I don’t want you to have problems later.” He said sadly as he went to his desk to collect his things. “That idiot needed to be dropped down a peg or two. He’ll get over himself. Besides i meant what I said, you have every right to take the exam like everyone.” I smiled confidently his way as I slipped my backpack on. He smiled back. “Thanks.” As we walked out to the entrance of our school I could see Katsuki leaning against a tree waiting for me. I said my goodbyes to Izuku sharing i’d see him later at our apartment complex and walked over to the tree. 

“Are you ok?” Katsuki asked not really looking at me. “Besides that my boyfriend was making a scene in the classroom and being embarrassing, not too bad.” I smirked crossing my arms. “Have you calmed down now?”

 He sighed looking at me. “Not sure why you’re giving him false hope. You know he won’t make it.” 

“I have every faith that he can do anything that he puts his mind too. Besides we made a promise to be the best heroes we can possibly be.”

“What about me?”

“What about you? I don’t worry about you.” I commented. He frowned a bit at that. I quickly gave him a peck on the cheek. “You are already so great and perfect, I have no doubt in my mind that you will succeed. So don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” I grinned. 

He playfully smirked, happy with my response. “So lucky to have the best girl around that supports me.” He grabbed my hand and lead us off the school premises. “I’ll buy you some ice cream before i drop you off at your house, as an apology for being a jerk.” “Hell yes!”

Word Count:1,336

Hope you all enjoyed my first chapter. Next chapter will more than likely skip into the entrance exams, unless you want Koi to learn how Izuku got his powers? Let me know your thoughts. If you’re also a writer and have any advise, I am all ears to suggestions! Thanks! <3 

[kpoptimeout]

My Top 10 K-Dramas of 2020 - What’s Yours?

2020 has ended after feeling like it was never ending and K-Dramaland has once again brought us so many goodies this year. As per our blog’s tradition [For 2019 faves click here], below are my Top 10 favs of the year (my faves in alphabetical order so it might not be yours so please don’t judge). (For our blog’s 2020 music ratings, click here!)

My only specific criteria is that the show must have had started in 2020 to be considered a 2020 series but like last year, I have allowed one drama starting very late in 2019 to make the list.

Without further ado, check the list below!

Crash Landing On You (tvN/Netflix)

While it started in December 2019, “Crash Landing On You” is certainly the Rom-Com of the year that swept the world by storm. It was possibly the K-Drama most people knew about and everyone rejoiced when the leads Hyun Bin and Son Yejin admitted to being a couple on 1 January 2021. 

One might say “Crash Landing On You” has generic plot - two people from vastly different worlds meeting through a crazy accident and developing feelings as a result, the choice of using North and South Korea as the two worlds provided unique social commentary and the opportunity for lots of interesting shenanigans. This is not the first series to feature a romance between a North and South Korean lead (see 2012’s “The King 2 Hearts”, which was also stellar), but it is definitely a more light-hearted take which is fun to watch. Additionally, the series is filled with fleshed out and lovable side characters.

While North Korean refugees interviewed by media outlets point out that the typical North Korean captain would not have the looks of Hyun Bin, most of them agree that the production team did their research as the everyday life of typical North Koreans were recreated quite accurately - from the types of furniture and household appliances they use, to the type of K-Dramas they watch in secret.

If you enjoy a good Rom-Com and an interesting premise, this is the K-Drama for you!

Extracurricular (Netflix)

Being a Netflix only series with no counterpart on Korean television, “Extracurricular” was able to explore the dark side of South Korean youth life which is not discussed on traditional South Korean media platforms. We are thrown into the life of a nerdy high school student played by Kim Dong Hee, who is actually effectively abandoned by his family and making ends meet secretly as an illegal prostitution ring mastermind.

The story unravels as the star student played by So Minhee discovers the schemes of Kim Dong Hee’s character and begins to blackmail him. Not to give too many spoilers, but it will prove difficult to balance his double life and the whole journey is captured superbly by the main cast’s stellar acting.

If you are a fan of dark and realistic teen dramas, this is the series for you!

Hospital Playlist (tvN/Netflix)

The team behind the “Reply” series and “Prison Playbook” returns with a few familiar faces so we all knew when the trailers dropped that we were in for a treat. As expected, the fabulous acting of the main cast, the wonderful storylines and also medically accurate procedures (according to my doctor friends), combined to make “Hospital Playlist” one of the most endearing dramas of the year.

Set in the fictional Yulje Medical Centre, we follow the lives of 5 doctors who met in college and their respective medical teams. Jo Jung-suk acts as a prankster and fun dad who is also a genius doctor. Yoo Yeon-seok plays a pediatric surgeon who is dead set on becoming a priest. Jung Kyung-ho acts as a cardiologist who seems cold-hearted (pun intended), but of course isn’t really. Kim Dae-myung plays a gynaecologist who is a mummy’s boy and has family drama galore. And finally Jeon Mi-do completes the set as a neurosurgeon who is lowkey the only adult in the friend group and who everyone wants to be when they grow up.

The drama throws us into the day to day runnings in the hospital without too much introductions and it actually made the characters all the more real because it was like we were just casually witnessing their everyday lives. The realisms of the show is furthered by the fact that even side characters like nurses and medical students have meaningful storylines of their own. We honestly cannot wait for Season 2 to air in May 2021!

Itaewon Class (JTBC/Netflix)

A remake of a popular Webtoon, “Itaewon Class” is a feel-good David and Goliath story where the male lead played by Park Seojun goes on a journey to avenge his father and chooses to do so without bending his morals at any point in time and making many friends along the way.

This series stood out by providing very diverse lead characters including a sociopath, a former convict, a trans woman, an illegitimate son and a Blasian trying to find acceptance in South Korea. All their stories highlight the different social issues and the stigmas many face navigating through life and is touching and relatable in many ways.

If you love a show with a positive social message, this is the show for you!

Sweet Home (Netflix)

Another webtoon remake by Netflix, “Sweet Home” follows a group of survivors in an apartment complex after all hell breaks loose in South Korea, as people begin to transform into monsters based on their greatest fears and regrets. 

Every character has interesting backstories that are slowly revealed as they try to survive together, while battling monsters that are generated by the team behind many Marvel Cinematic Universe blockbusters. The main cast led by Song Kang, Lee Jin Wook, Lee Siyoung and Lee Dohyun also acted extremely well, with Lee Siyoung grabbing a lot of attention with her ripped superhero physique. Kim Namhee also had a breakout performance as the survivor who favours a Korean sword and hopefully would continue to get more roles following years playing minor characters.

If you enjoy apocalypse thrillers that explore human nature, you would love “Sweet Home”!

The Uncanny Counter (OCN/Netflix)

Okay, Netflix is really funding all the webtoon adaptions because “The Uncanny Counter” is yet another one. Currently the highest rated OCN drama in the cable channel’s history, this webtoon adaption follows a disabled orphaned teenage boy who gains superpowers and joins a demon-banishing team of other super-powered beings (who own a noodle shop on the side) called the Counters, while the mystery of his parents’ death plays a key role in the story.

This somewhat cliché set-up is done in a fun and enjoyable way and it is great to see the talented Jo Byung Gyu finally cast as a male lead! Kim Sejeong has also further improved in her acting and is a loveable badass in this series. 

If you love a ghost/spirit busting mystery and just the superhero genre in general, you would enjoy “The Uncanny Counter”!

VIP (SBS)

“VIP” is a drama following a luxury brand’s VIP service team. While it has office drama, intrigue and power plays in almost every episode, it is arguably more of a drama about womanhood than anything else. With 4 female leads, 3 of whom are in their late 30s, the series accurately depicts the concerns women face reaching that age, whether they are married or unmarried, with children or not. 

Jang Nara plays a successful business woman and a co-worker to her husband played by Lee Sang Yoon. Born in a privileged background with a seemingly loving husband, all seems well until she has suspicions of her husband having an affair. This drives her to investigate and through her findings, she instead uncovers more stories of her other female co-workers, like the rumour-tainted but very cool section chief played by Lee Chungah and the stressed and depressed mother of two played by Kwak Sunyoung.

If you want a spicy office drama that also has meaningful discussions about working women in South Korea, VIP is the best drama for that!

The World of the Married (JTBC)

Overtaking JTBC’s “Sky Castle” to be highest rated cable TV K-Drama of all time, this 2020 production also by JTBC is a remake of BBC series “Doctor Foster” but highly localised to fit the Korean narrative.

Kim Hee-ae plays a successful doctor with a film director husband and a teenage son. Her life seems picture perfect until she discovers her husband’s infidelity. But unlike in “VIP”, where the female lead actually bonds with other women along the way, Kim Hee-ae’s character would quickly learn that she was in fact betrayed by everyone around her - they all knew her husband was cheating and have been pretty supportive of this whole affair.

While highly dramatised, the suspicions of the husband’s infidelity, the discovery, the subsequent divorce and schemes for revenge are all done tastefully and is a reason why it struck a chord with the general public, especially married women watching the show.

If you love mess and chaos and seeing douchebags destroyed, “World of the Married” is the perfect drama for you!

18 Again (JTBC)

JTBC really has a knack for remakes. This remake of the movie “17 Again” starring Zac Efron is also adapted seamlessly to fit Korean culture and social issues e.g. teen pregnancy, divorce, women’s careers after being a parent and parent-child relations. 

Kim Haneul and Yoon Sanghyun truly acted out the energy of a long-married couple and Lee Dohyun did extremely well in encapsulating Yoon Sanghyun’s mannerism as his de-aged counterpart. This boy is truly on a roll this year (he is also in “Sweet Home”). Also, the younger cast of this show were also very likeable and well flesh-outed and by the end of the series you are rooting for all of them to do well.

If you love a slice of life drama with a little fantastical element, you would love “18 Again”!

365: Repeat the Year (MBC)

Based on the Japanese novel “Repeat” by Kurumi Inui, “365 Days: Repeat the Year” follows this social experiment where 10 individuals are given the opportunity to travel 1 year back in time. As all 10 individuals try to remedy their mistakes and become better people, the experiment takes a sinister turn as the time-travellers begin to die one after another.

The veteran detective played by Lee Joohyuk and the mystery webtoon artist played by Nam Jihyun team up together with other time travellers to uncover the secrets behind travelling back in time and learn about the past lives of everyone chosen for the project.

If you enjoy a well-thought out time-travelling series that involves some alternate reality battle royale shenanigans, this is the series for you!

Honourable Mentions:

Kingdom (Season 2) (Netflix): The ancient zombie drama is back and still as strong as ever - one of the best zombie series on air right now.

Start-Up (tvN/Netflix): Loveable rom-com set in the start-up world in South Korea with one of the most hotly debated love triangles in this year’s K-Drama world.

Hi Bye, Mama! (tvN/Netflix): When a woman reincarnates to meet her husband and child again 5 years after her tragic death, only to find he has since remarried.

What’s your Top 10 K-Dramas of the Year? Leave your thoughts in the comments section below and may the drama sharing begin (and the road to more excuse for holiday procrastination!)

Also, if you want to check out underrated K-Pop songs of 2020, here are the lists for idol songs and artist songs.