#but like this particular concern always strikes me as dumb

[melancholia-ennui]

Every time I see people worrying about students using chatGPT to cheat assignments I despair a little more at the state of modern academia because like.

Chat GPT essays suck. They're so bad. They get basic facts wrong, they make up references that don't exist, they jump from one argument to the next without any throughline or coherence or objective. They are very bad essays.

So if your students are "coasting" through your course using chatGPT, if you're not failing every essay that chatGPT produces, that is a real indictment of how abysmally low the standards on that course are.

Like yeah, I get it, the idea that there could be nurses and engineers and other people in specialist roles where human lives are on the line who didn't engage with their training at all because they used generative AI to write their essays is really scary but like. If they were able to pass their courses using chatGPT that just shows that those courses were also going to pass someone who made shit up, had no real grasp of the subject matter, and failed to critically engage with the set material at all and at that point it's just like. I mean is machine assisted incompetence really that much scarier than entirely human incompetence? Surely the problem here is that incompetence is being let through at all???

[chumby4life]

Much-belated Xmas/New Year's Chronicle

Very late and very happy New Year to all :). I never actually use this blog for, well, actually blogging, so I thought why not. I can't be bothered to make a separate one, or just keep a diary for that matter, so this is what you get.

Christmas was pretty good. I spent the actual day of it working, but eh what you can do. I listen to other people's woes for a living, and I was completely expecting all of my conversations to be from people who were sad about the holidays. Suicide rates are highest that time of year, after all. Surprisingly, I saw none of that. It was just the usual problems you hear about - relationship/academic/financial struggles mostly. I guess maybe I was projecting my own dissatisfaction with the holidays onto my job haha.

Saw my mom and sisters afterward, I was happy to finally make enough money to get them nice gifts. Though seeing family always makes me a bit uncomfortable. I think my favorite gift this year was the Beerus S.H. Figuarts from my friend :)

For new year's I visited my college town to see my friends for the first time in a while. Being a homebody with a remote job, I usually am just dressed like crap, so it was a nice opportunity to dress up. My hair is severely unmanageable, so allow me some pride and vanity in showing it off.

You should see it in its natural state...Actually, you shouldn't lol. Ignore my flushed complexion - these were taken after a few drinks. I was very happy to see one friend in particular - we'll call her Birdie - she lets me crash on her couch every time I come to visit since graduating. Though I'd much rather sleep in her bed... Unfortunately, I'm too much of a coward to do anything about that. And I feel like I'm deluding myself whenever I get the sense that she feels the same way.

Anyway, it was fun to resume our little traditions. We saw a movie. We went to a bar we both like, I bought her drinks like the Supreme Gentleman I am. We got shots of a particular brand of whiskey like always - it tastes awful but it's just what we do, idk. Oh, my other favorite gift was this necklace she made for me:

ARGHH just look at that attention to detail! It's based off of Sonic - the blue, the little charms she said were supposed to be like Chaos Emeralds. So cute. And the way it can be worn multiple ways!! It's things like this that make me think maybe she reciprocates my feelings (even though she makes jewelry for our other friends as well). She's also kept a few really stupid things I did over time, things I didn't expect she would keep. One time in 2022 I drew a big tittied Sonic on my class notes - it was especially humorous given the subject matter of the notes. And the dumb shit I drew on her whiteboard she has yet to erase - the terrifying Wario and the Big Green Dub version of Turles (quoting the Big Green Dub was an inside joke in our friend group for a while).

Like, one has to wonder, why keep these things? Do you like me or something?? Are you gay, huh? I wish. I don't even have a clue if Birdie is anything at all - I wouldn't be surprised if she were ace or something given she never talks about it, and has never had a significant other, as far as I know.

The day of New Year's Eve, we went out with some other friends/acquaintances. Unfortunately there isn't much for students to do in Athens besides go out to drink. It's just weird reuniting with people from an earlier phase of your life, people who are the same as ever. Catching up, I listened to them talk about their bands, the shows they went to recently, their finals, etc. Things I would've been concerned with a year ago. Now all I do is work. I was touched at how they congratulated me when I told them what I was up to. "Abby and her big girl job", as they said. It's just kind of bittersweet, you know? I'm just a visitor amongst them now.

I fantasized about using the strike of midnight to my advantage with Birdie. About telling her how I felt, or maybe kissing her, idk. But in reality, it took me a certain amount of alcohol to work up the courage to even hug her. I'm such a coward. Anyway, I am definitely not built for college bars anymore, lol. They're always so packed and loud - not to mention my tolerance isn't what it was.

So yeah, that was my holiday time ramble. I know no one read it, but hey it's kind of fun to use your blog as an actual blog! Maybe this is something I'll do every couple months, idk. Though I don't usually have a lot going on tbh.

[fierceawakening]

Thank you.

And yes, I was a little gun shy about posting this. In the past when I’ve shared things like it, some people have been understanding, like you, but some people have just… looked at me in a very condescending way and “explained” to me that “it’s just a lump of cells” (another bit of phrasing I’ve always found weird and unconvincing. There are single celled organisms!) Then they just sort of expect me to be overpowered by this stunning feat of logic.

When I was a young teen, other kids found out I was pro-life and decided this must mean I was religious in a particular way. They cornered me in the cafeteria and demanded I recant. All their “reasoning,” such as it was, was about how I was wrong about God. I couldn’t even figure out what they were saying. I wasn’t sure if God existed!

I now know that they were assuming that the only reason someone could think abortion was killing a baby was a particular religious view about souls, and not “why is that a person if it’s viable and outside a uterus, like I was, but not a person if it’s viable and IN one? Was it dumb luck that made me a person or are y’all kind of ableist?”

I couldn’t explain myself. I couldn’t figure out how to explain God had nothing to do with it, when they kept asking what my religion was, in a demeaning way that meant whatever religion it was was Bad and Wrong.

I didn’t want to back down but there were so many of them, and I remember the sudden realization that if they wanted to physically attack me I was a goner. It was and still is a terrifying memory for me.

So, yes… I do feel anxious when bringing this up. There’s a reason you can tell.

I WANT to talk about it, because I think there really is a narrative that the only reason someone would care is Dominionist religiosity. That really gets me, for obvious reasons, and strikes me as… even a bit ableist? Like I have the impression a lot of disabled people and their family members do see abortion as less black and white, like I do. Even if they’re not religious, or are religious like I am now (still not sure there is a god, value the stories and community based on them.)

But people are very hostile, because they’ve been told all their lives that the only reasons to be concerned were ginned up by male charlatans.

So if you’re concerned, you’re a sucker.

I may well regret even posting this, but… as someone who was anti abortion in my youth, not because of religion but because my family had told many times the story of me being a preemie, so I saw the distinction between “fetus” and “baby “ as inherently hazy and just kind of went “sure” when adults around me said ‘those are the same thing”and only much later realized the adults saying it had a whole ass agenda they weren’t telling tiny me about

Does it make sense to anyone who isn’t me that when I point out why abortion made me uncomfortable (I believe the exact thing I pointed out was “that’s a unique individual; even if the same two humans happen to create an exactly alike mix of genes when they’re ready, that’s pretty much the same thing as an identical twin, so… not a replacement”) and why although I’m pro choice now (as I now believe using state power around this is inherently corrupt and inevitably harmful) I still feel weird emotionally kinda because I still have that “fetus and baby are almost the same. I am only alive because I was considered worth saving before I came out of there” gut feeling

My mom responds with “well, I never thought of it that way?”

Like.

Being older now I am aware that yes, the Overton window shifted, and yes, the shift happened inconveniently a couple decades AFTER my mom did her feminism.

But I dunno. There’s just something that feels funny to me about “gee I never thought of that” (and then promptly moving on without unpacking the suitcase) that wouldn’t feel funny to me about “yeah, I can see that but bodily autonomy comes first” or.. I dunno.

Again, it’s not so much that I want to convince her to feel differently, it’s just… that felt weird. Like it was threatening I bought it up, rather than a concern (that I now agree!) shouldn’t be the deciding factor.

Am I weird for finding that reaction strange and off putting?

[forever-rogue]

OH I HAVE AN IDEA like an angsty fic where bucky and reader have a miscommunication and it causes a fight between them and they are both like ???? “we’ve never yelled at each other ??? what is this” AND IDK I JUST WANT ANGST

So, head empty, very little thoughts, but I hope this works and you like it 🥺

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You sang along to the music that was playing softly in the background as you showered and got ready for your day. You’d had a late start, easily giving into Bucky and staying in bed for just five more minutes, which had really turned out to be almost another hour. The good thing about being the boss was that you could afford to be late every once in a while. Bucky was in the kitchen, whipping up a quick breakfast before he too needed to leave and go about his day.

“Sugar,” he called out to you as you washed your hair. You could faintly make out his voice as you carried on, but figured you’d be able to make out what he was saying well enough, “I’ve got everything made and prepared just how you like it!”

You thought nothing of it for a moment and continued to wash your hair; but about halfway through the motions, you stopped in surprise. What had he actually said?

“Bucky? Bub, what did you say?” you quickly rinsed out our hair before pulling back the shower curtain as you tried to listen in. Had he really said he was mad?

“It’s all done! I’m done,” he called back as he covered your plate for you to find once you got out of the shower. He grabbed his travel mug of coffee and headed towards the door, giving Alpine a quick pet before leaving, “bye honey. Running late and gotta go - I’m leaving!”

“Bucky!” you almost slipped and fell as you tore back the shower curtain and almost jumped out of the shower. It was still running as you haphazardly grabbed a towel and darted down the hall and into the kitchen. But he was already gone; the only thing that was left behind was the faint smell of his cologne. Swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you trudged back down the hall to finish your shower. You were already running late and whatever this was - whatever had just happened - would need to wait until later.

Had Bucky really just broken up with you in the midst of a shower? It sure seemed like it right now.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you sat down and stared at your computer screen. You’d had the same spreadsheets and charts pulled up for the last two hours and made almost no progress. You swore that almost every single interaction you’d had with Bucky over the last week was playing on loop in your mind. You were desperately trying to figure out where you’d gone wrong, what had caused him to snap.

In an effort to alleviate your own fears, you’d texted Bucky to get a response from him and see what was going on. But you hadn’t heard back from him. You’d sent three messages before deciding not to bombard him. But still...if he was just up and leaving you after almost three years together, he owed you at least a small explanation.

You opened google and quickly pulled up an apartment search, already resigned yourself to the idea that you’d need to find a new place fast. Being around for too long would be too hard and you didn’t want to subject to more torture than necessary. And Alpine! You’d need to decide what to do with your beloved cat - Alpine loved you equally, how were you to choose who would get the fluffy little thing? And all the friends in common you shared...who would they side with?

“Fuck,” you groaned at nothing in particular and decided to focus on your work. At least that would keep you distracted and your brain focused on something other than Bucky. You would figure out everything else tonight. It would all be fine. This was no big deal; maybe your world was falling apart...but you would handle it. You always did.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you finally allowed yourself to go home that evening, you were shocked to find the lights on and Bucky in the kitchen. He was on the phone with someone, his new girlfriend or someone like that you immediately presumed, moving about the kitchen as he finished dinner. You choked up as you watched the domestic scene that was so normal to you by now. But this time, it felt so wrong.

You stormed in and for whatever reason, you decided that grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Bucky was a good idea. You picked the soft thing up in your arms and hurled at him, who suddenly realized you were home and yelped in surprise as he dodged the offending object. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he pointed to the earbuds in ears as he turned back to the stove.

You were seeing red by now as you stormed in the kitchen and ripped his earbuds out. He was so stunned by your sudden actions, he jumped back and offered up a shocked look.

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” you shouted at him as you threw the buds on the floor, half tempted to stomp them, “how fucking dare you!”

“Sugar, what on earth are you talking about?” he grabbed his phone off the counter and ended the call without hesitation. Your chest heaved as you waited for some sort of explanation, “what’s going on? Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not alright! How on earth could I be alright?” you threw your hands up in exasperation as you tried to unsuccessfully hold back your tears. He was so calm and nonchalant about everything it was almost more frustrating than anything else.

“Okay...something is going on. Care to enlighten me?” he tried to reach up and wipe your tears away but you flinched out of his touch, “sugar?”

“Y-you! It’s you!” you cried softly as he motioned for you to explain just what it was about him that was the problem.

“What about me…?”

“You just break up with me this morning and tell me you’re leaving me and then you just come back like nothing has happened?” as soon as the words left your mouth, Bucky’s mouth dropped open. It was news to him that he’d broken up with you, “and you didn’t answer my texts all day! I deserve some sort of explanation!”

“I didn’t...I didn’t break up with you, Sugar,” he stated simply as you tilted to your head in confusion, trying to decide if he was pulling your leg or being honest, “why would I leave you? That makes no sense. I love you - I’m in love with you!”

“This morning,” you whispered softly, “you said you were done and you were leaving. When I was in the shower.”

His brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what exactly you were talking about. But then it hit him and he struggled not to burst out laughing. He gnawed on his lip as he fervently shook his head, “my sweet girl, you...well you heard me correctly, but incorrectly at the same time.”

“What? I-I swear…”

“What I said was breakfast was done and that I was leaving for work because I was running late too,” he explained as you tried to replay all that you had heard. Maybe...maybe you hadn’t heard him correctly at all - and in turn jumped to the worst possible conclusion, “I had to run...I’m sorry I didn’t come into the bathroom and say goodbye. Maybe that would have solved this whole thing.”

“You’re not..leaving me?” you asked as he just shook his head and took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, “you still love me?”

“I find it both hilarious and concerning that you so easily thought I would just leave,” he kissed the top of your head as you held onto him as tightly as possible, “of course I’m not leaving. You never have to worry about that, sugar. I love you so much, silly girl. You sweet, silly girl.”

“I’m an absolute idiot,” you mumbled as you buried your face in his shoulder. You couldn’t believe that you jumped from A to Z so quickly and without a moment of hesitation, “I’m sorry, Bub. I feel like I wouldn’t blame you if you did want to leave me now.”

“Never,” he promised softly, “even if you do have moments of being ridiculous. Just like I do.”

“If I ever do something so dumb again,” you huffed as you pulled back and looked at those ocean eyes, “just smack some sense into me. But I...you didn’t answer my texts.”

“Texts?” he seemed genuinely confused as he reached for his phone and correctly scrolled through his messages. You could see that there were none from you, “what are you…I was in bad reception today. Blame Sam, that I was just on the phone with, for that one. They probably never came through. I’m sorry, honey. If they’d come in, maybe we could have avoided this whole situation, huh?"

“Some bad luck on top of it,” you hid your face behind your hands and sighed heavily, “James. I..I’m so sorry for everything. I just downright acted like a fool today. I don’t even know where to begin to apologize. I love you, Bub. I hope you can forgive me, but if not...I would-”

“Hey,” he put his hand under chin and turned your face up to meet his own. His smile was lilting and gentle and his eyes soft, “I love you. It’s alright done and forgotten. Are you hungry? Dinner’s just about finished.”

“I love you more than anything,” you whispered as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, “I just...my emotions were so all over the place today. Like out of control, A to Z. I don’t know what happened.”

“Shit happens,” he dismissed it with a slight scoff as he reached for some dishes, “I’m yours, sugar. Always.”

“Me too,” you agreed as you leaned against the counter, watching him with nothing but adoration. It was then that another realization - and possibly an explanation - hit you. It felt like a punch in the gut, “shit.”

“What?” Bucky asked as he started to plate dinner, “everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled nervously, “just remembered something I forgot to do today.”

“As long as you’re alright…”

“I am,” you promised. You could worry about this later, “hey - I love you so much, Bucky. You know that right?”

“I love you too. Always.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[obae-me]

Hi! It said requests were open so here is one. So pretty much how the brothers would react to an MC who says "I love you" after they had helped them with something. Thats something I do regularly, like someone helps them and they respond with "Oh my gosh I love you, thank you so much!" Cause. Affection. Idk, i just found the idea to be cute.

This is such a cute idea! I hope I pulled it off okay, for some reason Belphie’s is a bit angsty because I like pain I guess, but most of it is fluff! Thank you for your suggestion! 💜

Lucifer

He openly admitted it caught him off guard at first. What he will never admit is how harshly the air escaped from his lungs. Or how quickly his mind went blank at the words. 

He had simply brought MC some tea, noticing how hard they had been studying. Working day and night to try to catch up and understand topics demons themselves had spent decades learning. He was proud of them for working so hard. He settled the tea down by them, watching them beam with appreciation. 

“Is that for me?” 

Their question elicited an amused hum from him. “Is there anyone else in here?” 

They wrapped their fingers around it excitedly, entirely grateful. “Ugh, thank you, I love you, I needed this.” 

He had been lucky he settled the teacup down before they spoke. Had it remained in his hands, he most assuredly would’ve dropped it, or spilt the contents at the very least. He was not prepared at all. They hadn’t been down here nearly long enough to fall in love with him, right? Was he that alluring? He must’ve done something wrong, he was sure he had been focused solely on being intimidating. He didn’t remember doing anything in particular to elicit such a response. He was flattered, but...maybe--surely-- he had heard incorrectly. 

“You…” He blinked a few times as he shoved his emotions into the back of his mind, the silent screaming in his head muffled by his usual calm exterior. “..love me?”

MC covered their mouth with their hands, recognizing his confusion no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “No, no!” 

Well now he was a bit irritated, and secretly disappointed even. Were they playing a joke on him? 

They stammered and turned more in their seat to look at him. “What I mean is, I just kinda use the term ‘I love you’ as a general term, not an…” They blushed, “..intimate one. I say it all the time to people, I’m really sorry for confusing you. I’ll try not to say it as casually.” 

It was a bit unusual to hear something like that thrown around so often, it reminded him of his days in the Celestial Realm, love thrown around at the drop of a hat. The Devildom was a lot less...affectionate. He shook his head, any sign of his surprise now completely gone from view. “Don’t change a harmless habit like that for me, I just wasn’t expecting it. I’ll know now for the future.” 

It takes him quite a while to get used to it, taking every ounce of concentration not to blush whenever MC says that they love him. Once he does get used to it, he’s fond of it and may or may not continually go out of his way to perform some simple gesture to encourage them to say it to him more often. It takes even longer after that for him to finally respond with “I love you too” making them stop dead in their tracks, heart fluttering, mouth ajar, much like he did that first day when he brought them a simple cup of tea. He relished the look on their face.

How such a human stirred up these feelings within him is beyond his understanding. 

Mammon 

He was an open mess when MC first expressed it to him. He’d done what? Just find a pretty rock on the ground? It was shiny and smooth, surely worth a fortune, but when he went to see how much it was worth, it was declared utterly worthless. So he gave it to MC--but only because it was useless okay?! It’s not like he likes MC or anything, that’s not what this is about. Obviously.

He handed it over, acting casual, like it was nothing. Their eyes lit up at it, watching it glint mesmerizing colors in the moonlight, reacting like it might as well have been a diamond. “Whaaat, it’s so cool, I love you, thank you!” 

“Don’t say I never do anything for-” It had taken a few seconds to process, but once he realized the words that had come out of their mouth, he went frozen. Rigid. His other brothers might’ve called it a miracle. His jaw was open, his glasses had somehow slipped to the end of his nose, threatening to fall off. He didn’t even blink.

“I’m sorry, I guess demons aren’t quite used to that huh? I use it as a friendly term, I used to say it to my friends all the time back home.” 

He was still as stone for a good long time, gradually building up the concern in MC’s chest the more he was reactionless. Had they broken him? Once he finally gathered his one erratic brain cell in order, it was like someone hit a sudden unpause. He quickly puffed out his chest with both his hands on his hips. The explanation they gave him went in through one ear and out the other, as he was still focused on the ‘I love you’. 

“Don’t freak me out like that, human, but of- of course if you were to love someone, it’d be me, eh? I don’t blame you, it would be hard to resist the Great Mammon.” 

He’ll get a big head about it, strutting around, bragging to anyone who would listen--not that he gave them a say on the matter--that MC expressed they loved him. Doesn’t matter if there were romantic intentions or not, MC loved him, and he wouldn’t let it go. He’ll ignore the fact that MC will say that to most anyone.

“Yeah, well, when they say that about me, it’s different!” Or he’ll put on an act. “Yeah? Not like I care about some dumb human!” 

The more he takes time to know MC, the more possessive he acts, and he gets a little bent out of shape anytime MC says ‘I love you’ so casually to anyone other than him. Mostly because he’s greedy for it, he wants those words to be his and his alone. He wants MC to be his...and his alone. 

“Oi, MC, you can’t just go saying that to anyone...It’s our thing...you know?” He’ll get endlessly teased about it by everyone in the household, but no matter how much he gets pestered about it, he still wants to hear MC say it.

Only if things get romantic between them, will he be vulnerable with MC. Whenever they’re alone, he’ll get in close, melting against MC’s touch. With MC he can feel these strange and addicting feelings. With his hidden insecurities coming to light, he’ll ask MC the same question every night. “You love me, right? Like...love love me?...I...love love you too.”

Levi 

MC had been convinced they gave the poor boy an actual heart attack. Although, to be perfectly fair, almost anything MC does puts Levi in a tizzy. It’s not their fault, he’s just sensitive. 

They had been playing games together, nothing too unusual. Together, MC and Levi, the Best Friend Duo, battled an intense match against other real players. It had been close, but with both of their talents combined (admittedly Levi doing a lot of impressive carrying) they managed to strike victorious. 

MC felt a rush, their head tingling a bit. They had been on the edge of their seat the whole time, positively exhilarated when they won. “Whoo! That was all thanks to you, Levi! I love you!” 

First, MC heard the controller clatter out of his hands. They turned to look at him, his face went completely red, his eyes flicking back and forth out of control, not focusing on anything in particular. He had a hand clutching over his chest. Then to add on top of that, he completely collapsed. 

“Levi!” MC’s shout was loud enough to bring some of his other brothers to check the commotion. After a short examination, they declared that Levi was fine, just dazed and lightheaded, although the color in his face refused to go away for quite some time. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, I meant it in a friendly way.” 

He’ll end up locking himself in his room for days on end after the event, trying to wrap his head around how ‘I love you’ and ‘friendly’ could ever be even remotely the same. That’s not how it’s supposed to go! It’s supposed to be like...like in fiction where both of the love interests are alone, finally having the chance to meet up under a pretty sky, possibly under strenuous circumstances beyond their control, inevitably forcing them to admit their feelings! 

He’ll get over it, he always does, but when he comes back he finds out MC now deliberately avoids saying ‘I love you’ to him. They meant it for his own safety, truly, but his Envy is now rubbing away at his normal shy personality. 

It'll get to the point where he can’t hold back anymore. “How come you tell everyone else you love them but me!” 

“Because last time...you collapsed, and then went MIA for almost a week! I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. Is this not what you wanted?”

He ends up using his arm to cover his burning face. “I...I...I...I…” After several more consecutive ‘I’s, Levi finally tells MC that he didn’t want to be treated differently, he wanted MC to tell him that they loved him too. “Because I...lo..lo...lov...I appreciate you, MC!” 

MC will chuckle a little, giving him one of his favorite headpats. “I love you too, Levi.” He doesn’t collapse this time, but feels his knees get a little weak. He refuses to remove his arm from his face because now there are fresh tears flooding from his eyes that he doesn’t want MC to see. He loves them too, so much his physical body can’t handle it. Even if he doesn’t have the courage yet to say it, he’ll tell them one day. 

Satan 

He’s quite angry with himself for how he reacted, which isn’t a huge surprise. He does wish he would’ve handled it better, but he had no idea those three words would be sprung on him so suddenly. 

He’s usually quite down to earth, but not even the many romance novels he’s read--and if you tell anyone that he reads gushy romance novels, he will kill you--had prepared him for this. Where was the buildup, the slow rising passion before the eventual confession? Despite occasional temper tantrums and pranking tendencies, he’s truly an old soul. He’s a ‘my dearest, shall we take a stroll, and perhaps, should our shoulders brush, would you permit me a show of boldness, of passion, I dream for the day our fingers intertwine’ kinda guy. So MC’s ‘I love you’ was many chapters early for him. 

He’d crossed paths with MC near the front door to the House of Lamentation. MC had just gotten back from RAD, being kept by Diavolo himself. Every one and a while, after classes, Diavolo personally checks up on them to discuss the program. Meanwhile, the demon of wrath was just on his way out, a full stack of books in his arms. 

“Hey, Satan, where’re you off to?” MC attempted to catch his gaze behind the many tomes stacked against his chest. 

“Ah, off to return these books back to the Library.” Some hair fell before his face, but with the absence of free hands, he utilized a puff of air from his mouth to blow the strands away. 

“I see, be safe then, love you!” 

The words caught him off guard, and with his focus distracted, his foot caught against an unfortunate crack in the pathway. He tumbled, the books in his arms scattering themselves all over the front yard. MC turned and attempted to help, but with Satan’s panicked scramble, he ended up smacking his head against MC’s. 

“My-uh-apologies-I-” He stuttered while he frantically tried picking up the books, only to have some continue to slip from his arms. 

“Here, use my bag,” MC opened the backpack that had been around their shoulders. It was already full of some textbooks and assignments, but it was enough to lessen some of the struggle. He gave them a small thank you as he slung the bag over his shoulder, the remaining stragglers tucked under his arm. He waited till MC went back into the house, and then he angrily tore the front gate off its hinges. He looked like such an idiot just now. 

He knows MC means not much of it other than general affection, once he thinks about it. Alongside Lucifer, anytime MC now says it, he’ll act unaffected by it. The truth is, the never ending rage burning beside him magically subsides anytime those words fall from their lips. 

If he works softly and intelligently enough, perhaps he’ll have forged a tight enough bond where MC can say it for real, and the fire in his soul can find some peace. 

Asmo

Honestly, despite his over dramatizations and flamboyant nature, he’s the least affected out of all the brothers. Trust him, he’s had plenty of demons try to crawl their way back to him after a night of fun, insisting that they’re in love with him. So, he’s heard it a lot, and it’s not his favorite. That being said, he discovered that MC is probably the only one he’ll tolerate the dreaded L word with. 

He’d sat there, working on MC’s nails, giving them one of his—as he calls it—Asmo-tastic manicures. MC appreciates the pampering, even if Asmo uses it mostly as an excuse to hold hands and get close to the human. 

When Asmo was complete, MC looked down at their newly soft hands with beautifully decorated nails, feeling a bit closer to the demons now that they had matching manicures. “It’s beautiful, Asmo, I love you, thanks!”

His chest did flutter a bit, and he let out a stream of giddy giggles as he pressed MC into him for a hug. “MC, you’re so cute, I can’t take it!” 

He had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t use the words ‘I love you’ ever, no matter what, but if MC was using it so casually, why can’t he, it didn’t mean much of anything right? He quickly turns a 180 on the idea, and says it as often to MC as he can. 

“Bye, MC, love you, dear! You’re wearing the outfit I gave you? I love you!” But his new form of affection is now not just centered towards the human, it’s now directed towards his brothers as well. No one is safe. “You’re giving me this, Lucifer? I love you! Beel, a snack for me? I love you!” 

He’s such a hype man, and the affection spreading throughout the House of Lamentation by his and MC’s hand is infectious. Even if they don’t mean to, simply Asmo’s added influence has the brothers saying ‘I love you’ to each other more often, which has led to plenty of entertaining moments. Mammon said it once to Lucifer on accident, which admittedly filled the eldest with a bit of pride, especially at seeing Mammon’s mortified face. Beel and Belphie have no problem saying it between themselves, although it leaves them softer than they had been in a while. But perhaps the most shocking of them all was when Lucifer sleepily mumbled it to Satan, who then parroted it back to him without thinking. Both were a bit flustered, but Satan was so angry about it he wanted to tear both Lucifer’s and his own tongue out. The two refuse to talk about it, but they were both a little softer to each other that week. 

But why are we talking about the others? This should be all about Asmo! You know how when someone continually says something out of irony after a while they end up speaking it unironically? That’s what was happening to Asmo, much to his confusion and unfortunately his fear. He had never...loved someone before, not in a romantic way, it was too much commitment, it was too much...emotion. But the more he continued telling MC he loved them...the more he started to believe it. The more he noticed the little things about them that he couldn’t get enough of. So one day, he stopped saying ‘I love you’ altogether.

MC met with him in private, concerned over his new out of character action. “Asmo? What’s wrong, I noticed you’ve been...distant, which isn’t like you.” 

Of course they would notice, they always did. “Oh...MC...I…” For once, he was actually shy, covering up his own beautiful face to hide, an incomprehensible action. He could barely speak, he was so...scared? “MC I think...I...I think I love you.”

Beel 

He was second place in the ‘staying calm’ category when MC said it. He’s a family man, loving those around him is in his nature. So hearing MC say those words, he merely took it as a family thing, and he was all too happy to bring MC into the family. 

He noticed MC had been looking just a bit run down, and so, he shared a single snack with them. They practically glowed, looking up at him with a heart-melting smile. “Thanks Beel, I love you, thank you!” 

Suddenly the food he was eating tasted ten times better, and he had been fully convinced for a while that it was some magic spell MC put on him. He almost ends up crying. Honestly, it’s been such a long time since he’s heard words like those. He didn’t realize how starved he was for affection. He pulls them into a tight hug that lasts for several minutes. He let them go eventually, but only because he needed hands to eat. He continued to scarf down the mouth-watering food, although the ache in his stomach wasn’t as pronounced as it had been. 

He ends up giving MC a little snack anytime they say ‘I love you’, because he finds them adorable, and his way of reciprocating affection is with food. He loves MC immensely, so it’s only natural he shares his favorite things with them. Only, he was unaware that he was more or less training MC and himself by doing this. In fact, it was unbeknownst to everyone save Satan, who is very aware of what Pavlov’s Theory is. Satan doesn’t say anything though, he wants to see how this plays out. 

The more MC says ‘I love you’ the more they get rewarded by Beel, and the demon has now conditioned himself by associating food with MC’s tenderness and endearment. MC steadily increases the time they spend with the demon of gluttony, almost stuck to his side as often as Belphie. MC finds they can’t help but smother him with love and affection, which Beel can’t get enough of since gluttony is his sin. And Beel discovered that he always has some sort of treat on hand that he refuses to touch because it’s MC’s. 

The day MC finally caught on was the day Satan finally intervened. He himself spent some private time with MC, and, much like Beel had for a while now, he gave MC an unsolicited treat. 

They hardly looked at him as they instinctively stated, “I love you!” Then ended up pausing for a long time. Satan teased them mercilessly before he explained, and MC felt their entire body grow hot with embarrassment. However, they took this opportunity to do something for Beel in return. They prepared a big meal for him, texting him to bring him down into the dining room, just for the two of them. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the banquet, but for once, his first instinct wasn’t to eat. He wrapped MC tightly in his arms, tears almost streaming down his face. MC’s presence seemed to satiate him almost as well as a twelve course meal. 

“I love you, MC! I love you so much!” 

Belphie

As shocking as it is, Belphie reacted the most severely. Which if you actually take the time to think about it, probably isn’t that surprising at the end of the day. It was the last thing he expected to hear, especially after everything that happened. 

All he had done was run into MC in the hall. Lucifer had called Light’s Out and anyone who didn’t want to be punished would be heading straight to bed. Since he sleeps all day, he was fairly awake at this hour, not to mention recently he had felt annoyingly restless. Finally free to roam the house like he wished left him wandering and wanting. There was still something he needed, but he wasn’t sure what. MC stepped past him to get to their room, already looking exhausted, a large yawn escaping their lungs. 

“Heading to bed?” They asked him, and he still found it difficult to bring his eyes up to theirs. 

“Maybe soon.” He acted nonchalant. 

MC rubbed their eyes, gently touching his shoulder as they passed. “Okay, love ya, get some good rest.” 

He was grateful MC had immediately walked into their room, because he wasn’t prepared for how extreme his body would react. He found the energy upholding his legs went missing, and he had to lean against the closest wall to keep from crumpling to the ground. He continued to try to trick himself into believing he didn’t care. They were a human, he didn’t care, why would he care? Why should he feel guilty for everything he’d done? He was a demon, a monster, he’d embraced that when he fell, or he thought he did. But...being around MC...it made him feel like he was back in the Celestial Realm, filled with hope, with love, something he was sure he’d never truly feel again. 

He recalled before the inevitable fall what his dear sister had told him before his life had been shattered before his eyes. “Remember Belphie, I love you.” 

He couldn’t hold himself up any longer, clutching his pillow to his chest as the hole in his heart he had filled with sleep and anger crumbled away. He pressed his face deep into the fluff of the cushion as he sobbed. His heart felt like it was stinging like wounds often do when they’re cleaned and healing. It hurt. It threatened to break him. He had tried avoiding feelings. How could MC be so nice to him after everything? What had he done to deserve it? 

Beel, influenced by the magical connected emotions to his twin, left everything he had been eating behind to come get him immediately. The intense pounding in his chest worried him to no end, he needed to find Belphie now. He found the demon of sloth curled up on the floor of the hallway, convulsing and shaking from violently crying. Beel hated seeing his beloved brother like this, but on the inside he was secretly thankful. He knew Belphie couldn’t keep acting like nothing mattered, it wasn’t healthy. He was finally coming to terms with everything, opening the door to finally, after all this time, being able to move on. 

The next time the human sees the youngest brother, they see that he’s a little more aware, maybe not quite awake, but mindful of the people around him. For once, he talks about what he’s going to do in the future, looking forward instead of repeating broken events of the past. He finds that being around MC, if they’ll let him, helps the feeling in his ribs hurt a bit less, that the personality he thought had been locked up was starting to escape. Life itself matters a bit more than it used to. He has to be ready though, because he can’t afford to cry in front of his brothers the next time MC tells him ‘I love you’. Even if they think nothing by it, it means more than the world to him. But as always, he’ll act apathetic about it. 

He’s working on it though, and all because MC showed him a bit of kindness despite his unforgivable actions. All he needed was a bit of love.

[fukuwuzawa]

Could you please do a nsfw Ranpo where the reader accidentally eats the snack he was looking forward to having all day and so he decides to “punish” her for it? Thanks!

snacking | ranpo x female reader {nsfw}

Utter, harrowing betrayal. A completely unforeseen and deeply upsetting turn of events, taking the form of an empty bag of sweets. The packaging, brutally torn open by a cruel hand, is almost enough to make him tear up a little. This snack…it wasn’t available to buy in Japan, he had Tanizaki order it for him from another country. It was a most coveted snack; one he was saving for a special occasion. And after working hard on cases all day, he decided it was about time he finally sat down and enjoyed it, as he rightfully deserved, being the greatest detective and all.

But now, it's all gone. He stares at the few sorry crumbs left, lower lip quivering, before setting his mouth in a tight frown. It was a huge mistake on his part to fail to take into account the possibility of something like this happening. However, now that it did, there is no doubt left in his mind as to who is the culprit.

Naively unsuspecting of the hell you just unleashed, you sit on one of the couches in the Agency, finishing that report Kunikida’s been on your ass about for forever. You’ve been struggling with it for the last three hours and were only being kept alive by sugar and sheer willpower alone. To finally hit enter and close your laptop feels like freedom. Sighing contently, you set it aside on the table…then smile warmly at the sight of your boyfriend standing in the door.

“You’re done for today too?” You call out to him, patting the place next to you, signaling him to sit down.

Uncharacteristically quiet, Ranpo follows your instructions. You’re about to repeat your question when he suddenly pounces on you, wasting no time in invading your mouth with his tongue. Taken aback but not complaining in the slightest, you let him, moaning into the kiss a little. Too soon, he pulls away. Confused, you wipe at your mouth, breaking the string of saliva still connecting you, before asking. “What was that for?”

“That, my dear,” he replies, face painfully serious as he studies yours thoroughly, “was forensics.”

“Forensics?!” You repeat, flabbergasted.

“Do not play dumb! It’s no use, I already tasted them on your mouth. You ate my Twinkies!” Ranpo accuses, flicking your forehead mercilessly. “Those Twinkies travelled all the way from the States just for an opportunity to end up in my tummy, and you assassinated them before they even got the chance!”

Just then, realization strikes you. “You mean…the Twinkies I found on the kitchen counter were yours?!”

“Who else’s?” He cries.

“I figured if they belonged to you, you’d already have them locked up somewhere, so I thought they were free game,” you rush to explain yourself, knowing how Ranpo gets when his snacks are concerned.

But it seems to be too little and far too late. The greatest detective lets out a hopeless wail before burying his face into your chest and staying perfectly still.

“You aren’t mad at me, Ranpo-kun, are you?” You carefully remove his hat before running your fingers gently through his hair.

He only grunts, but you don’t give up, petting his hair more aggressively to show you mean business.

“Don’t be unreasonable now. I’m sure I can find some way to make it up for you. Is there anything you want me to do?” At this, he perks up, raising his head to look at you. His eyes shine just like when using Super Deduction, and somehow that’s almost intimidating.

“Actually, there is something…” You caress his cheek, coaxing him to tell you already. “What is it?”

“Seeing as you ate my Twinkies…I guess you’ll have to do as my snack for the night,” he murmurs, making your face heat up.

“Y-you mean -”

“Precisely,” he cuts you off, positioning himself in between your legs.

Frantically, you look at the open door and your heart jumps at the thought of someone walking in on you, someone hearing. The Agency is empty, should be for the rest of the night, but the possibility of someone interrupting is still there. “Here?!”

“Snacks taste the best at work, don’t they?” He muses, his fingers busy with the zipper on your skirt. He slides it down your legs and throws it on the ground carelessly, before doing the same with your underwear. Instinctively, you try to close your thighs but he doesn’t let you, keeping them open with a kneading grip.

“Ah, I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he says teasingly, or maybe seriously, before licking his lips and diving in for a treat.

Your hand flies to your mouth to silence the noises you can’t help but produce when his soft lips touch your sex, moving at a pace that could only be described as starved. You suppose this is what you deserve for stealing his snack. There is no method to this particular madness, no pattern in which he moves his tongue, but what he lacks in technique he more than makes up for with sheer force and enthusiasm. Hungrily, he licks all over your cunt, his nose occasionally bumping into your clit as his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you from grinding against his face. It’s cruel. He teases you skillfully, by being either too much or not enough, but never what you need. A perfect payback for your misdeed, his form of punishment.

“Ranpo, please,” you mewl, pulling at this hair to direct him where you must need it, “feels so good, so perfect, more...”

To your horror, he stops altogether, flashing you a grin before speaking in fake annoyance. “Why are you interrupting me while I’m snacking? Haven’t you done enough bad for today?”

You whimper, unable to form a single coherent sentence. Satisfied with that reply, he momentarily retreats from between your thighs to give you a hot, open-mouthed kiss on which you can taste yourself. You moan his name. How is it that he manages to make you lose your reservations, your inhibitions so easily? Not half an hour ago you were busy working on the assignment Kunikida gave to you, and here you are now, begging to get tongue-fucked in an open office. You can’t deny it doesn’t give you a sort of a thrill though, and judging by Ranpo’s deranged expression, so can’t he.

“You wanna know what my favorite part of a Twinkie is?” He pants into your ear. He feels decidedly hard against your thigh, and you helpfully rut against him to provide some sort of friction. It’s his turn to whimper.

“I don’t know, what is?” You ask, despite already knowing the answer.

He grins from ear to ear. “The filling.”

And with those words, he returns to his previous position, only with ten times the vigor. You shudder when you feel him plunge his tongue deep inside your pussy, hear him slurp and swallow. His thumb moves on your clit in tight circles, bringing you closer and closer. This time when you instinctively pull on his hair and grind against him, he lets you, until it doesn’t feel like punishment at all. Everything – his mouth, his fingers, his little noises, it’s just enough to send you over the edge. With a choked scream, you cum undone on his tongue. Only when you come down from your high do you slap a hand across your mouth in horror. The people on the floors beneath you…what if they heard?!

You’re about to scold your boyfriend for putting you in such an embarrassing situation, or maybe propose a second round, when he yawns suddenly.

“I always feel so sleepy after eating a snack…I think I’m going to take a nap now…” The little bastard smiles up at you before nuzzling your thigh, his eyelids already growing heavy. “Hmm…so soft. You make a perfect pillow ♥ ~”

You sigh. You know you will have to get dressed eventually, but for now you’re satisfied leaving him like that

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad I ate your Twinkies.”

(so this was my first request on this blog...i hope it’s not too long, or too short, or too dorky or too anything. and i hope it was up to your expectations, sweet anon, and that everyone enjoyed it <3 i sure enjoyed writing it haha! ranpo is my fave <3)

[hetalia-has-a-secretary]

How do the axis and the allies know that their s / o is the one?

Ah yes- everyone's favorite question! I always liked the idea of a Character being all serious face, and then either looking shocked, or completely melt over their new found feelings!

Trigger Warnings: Slight mention of minor violent behavior, and mention of invasive thoughts

Allies and Axis find the one! (Their S/O)

Allies:

America:

Is was on one of their field trips.

His S/O became obsessed with a certain place in America, and he vowed to help cross it off their bucket list.

Even though it was the umpteenth time seeing them smile, it felt different.

His face blushed and all he could see was his S/O in the lightening.

Their movements, no matter how fluid or clumsy, seemed to radiate their excitement.

There was just something about it that made America momentarily forget what he was doing.

Something in him wanted to capture this moment and he pulled them in for a selfie.

Even after the moment passed, whenever he looked at that picture, it gave him that slight buzz he felt from when the picture was taken.

Driving to the designated location with every love song that played forced the scenerio in his mind.

Then all at once, as his face turned red, he realized how badly he wanted to have them by his side for the rest of their life.

England

It was another fancy party his boss made him go to. His S/O decided to stay at his place for whatever reason, and assured him they'd be fine without him for a few hours.

But he wasn't.

Every woman who passed by in a flowing dress, or every man who just looked particularly good made him think of his S/O, dressed to the nines in their own style, more than certainly becoming the center of attention.

But then that fantasy fades the longer it lasted. He started thinking about how everyone's eyes would hunger for his S/O and it made him feel off.

He didn't recover until he got home, his S/O greeting them at the door in messy pajamas, some food stuck to their cheek.

Right there did England's heart flip and his face grew flush.

He felt a nervous, but serine, sensation take him over.

Seeing his Love in their own element, not caring for any fancy clothing, or heavy make up to show him upon returning made him realize just how much he desired them. No matter the form, or outfit he just loved them, and all they were, and will be.

France:

France considered himself to be easy to fall for, so for a small while his S/O was just another woman who desired him.

Though he thought the world of his S/O (and those before them) he just always assumed they wouldn't last, no matter how much money, or fancy parties and outfits they were given. They'd just leave.

But time and time again his S/O had him stunned by how little they wanted from him, material wise.

He didn't mean to fall so hard, and so quickly, but he did. Seeing their independence, but also seeing their want for him confused him.

He knew what he was feeling due to all the one sided love he's had for a few others. And it scared him.

He'd know the whole time his true feelings, but wanted to be sure his S/O felt the same. Even if it meant waiting till their last breath.

What really put the nail in the coffin was when they asked him how he felt about their relationship. He was prepared for a break up until his Darling started to giggle.

He knew they'd be his forever when they said something about being lost without him. Their serious look striking through his heart. He had to fight with them that night, beg even, to let him spoil them in anything they wanted.

China:

He can be a prideful kind of guy, even he knows it. It's just, he's been around for so long, and knows the outcome of most scenerios due to all of his years of experiencing life, he's just... Stopped caring about how he comes off to others.

This had led to many people coming in, and quickly going out of his life. No matter the optimism they showed for being with him, it quickly vanished.

But not for his S/O.

It was one day in particular he was being a bit... Rude to his S/O. The argument was over something incredibly small, but as usual china felt otherwise.

He was taken a back when his S/O accused him of purposely trying to push them away, despite the hardwork they put in the relationship.

He immediately froze on the spot and couldn't mutter another word other than a brief apology. Claiming to needed air to calm down.

Once he calmed down he realized they were right. They have been bending over backwards and it made him feel guilty. But then his heart started to beat. The fact they tried so hard, and for him, made him feel something new.

He didn't want them to be anything than what he fell in love with, and by going above and beyond for him did they seem to almost become a stranger to him.

He then got despirate and ran to his S/O, admitting his new feelings on the spot. He didn't want to lose the person he loves so dearly, just because he didn't know how to swallow his pride sometimes.

Russia:

His S/O knew it was going to be a rough ride being with Russia. Between the physical affection, both public and private, and the odd mood swings he has had, it was obvious it was going to take him longer to feel about them, as they did him. But that was fine.

Russia on the other hand did know what he wanted, and what he liked. Ivan's issue was sifting through those emotions and trying to figure out which ones were okay, and which ones would scare off his S/O.

He decided to land on 'learning by example'. If his S/O wanted a hug, he can give hugs. They cried? He tried to sympathize and thought of things that hurt him, and also cried. Though he had a habit of accidentally taking the attention off of his S/O when that happens.

Only later on realizing it and feeling dumb or guilty, but not wanting to bring it up since his S/O recovered.

Oh but the biggest thing that made him want to hang onto them was the one or two accidents where he got a little... Agressive and panicked, accidentally hurt his S/O in the process.

The first time it happened was when a misunderstanding escalated Because he just, couldn't communicate his thoughts and his S/O pushed to far, only wanting to help. He bruised them by the throat when he grabbed them to try and keep them away for their own safety. Not meaning to grab their neck, he just grabbed for them in general, really aiming for their shirt. But they never left him after that.

The second incident they caught him clawing at some scars, weeping painfully. No one else has seen him like that and he panicked. He trapped them in a corner, and threatened them to never say a single thing, but his S/O reached out for him to try and console him, but it ended in more bruising when he pushed them away, thinking they were Reaching out to leave him. But they never left...

They never left. They had told him countless times that it was just an accident. But how many accidents could his Sunflower take? He only started forgiving himself when they mentioned how each time he panicked like that, he became better at expressing himself, via a bit agressively with his words. But now.

He never realized he wasn't as upset whenever his S/O and him run into a misunderstanding. It was then he realized they didn't plan on leaving, and it was then he realized he wanted the same thing they did, and decided to strive to get better. Even if it meant asking for help...

Axis:

Germany:

He's always so stressed out and annoyed by all the work his Boss dumps on him. He is so overwhelmed he forgot a few documents in his home office.

Before he could ever really get concern his phone buzzed.

His S/O had called him to ask about the exact papers he needed for that day's meeting. He blushed as his S/O mentioned how quickly he left the house, and was concerned he'd forgotten something other than locking his office like he usually does.

He couldn't even get upset that his S/O snooped in his office when he left. He was too flattered that his S/O's immediate thought was whether or not he had everything.

Over the phone he was able to get the information he needed, and after swearing to secrecy, he let his S/O hang up.

During the meeting he was particularly distracted by those hand written notes. If it wasn't for how caring his S/O was he'd have been in deep trouble.

Then it got him. He felt warm, and fuzzy as he came across the thought "They must love me that much-" and it struck him a certain way.

He knew they were dating, and were close but up until now the word love only had so much weight to it. Now it was both words and actions, and he wants to make sure his S/O feels just like he did. He wants them to know exactly how much he's fallen for them, and perhaps how he will never stop falling for them.

Japan:

Japan is another one who takes a while to get close too.

He doesn't mean to be so anti-affectionate it's just, he's so anxious about the world around him sometimes.

Being a country isn't all it's cracked up to be but his S/O already knew that.

That was one of the things he loved about him... Oh.

He knew he had feelings, but as time went by he didn't realize how much they grew. He never really said 'I Love You'. Despite his S/O saying it often enough, he'd usually give a soft smile and nod.

Then he face palmed at how much of a jerk he's been. Immediately he had the urge to go talk about it and apologize, but the closer he got to his S/O the more the word 'love' bounced around in his head.

He loved them. He loved them? Yeah. This is a new and Terrifying thing he's experiencing.

With sweaty palms and a clear throat the only thing he could ask was "Do you love me?" Causing his S/O to blush and giggle.

He slowly grew mortified at the situation. His S/O told him that, of course they loved him! But what they said next surprised him, and made him internally melt.

"But you don't have to say it if you can't. I just wanted you to know that no matter how long it takes, I'm still here for you..."

His chest swelled and despite not being able to show his full affection, it was certainly pushing at the seams, ready to burst.

Italy:

He wasn't shy with women, or men, and loved giving others attention as much as receiving it. But some days he's just, Too exhausted and just wants to be alone for a bit.

Though seeing his S/O is always a welcoming sight. The way he treated his S/O versus how he flirts with others made it increasingly obvious that he only flirted out of habit.

Though while alone he slowly felt guilty about it. Then he started wondering why his S/O was still around. Then other thoughts about him and his flaws started getting to him.

He lazily walked to his S/O, quiet and shy about his question. And when he asked why they stayed he was surprised by their confused.

"Because I love you?"

Oh yeah. Then he smiled and went for a hug but something about the way they held him made him feel different?

It wasn't a normal hug. They didn't pull away and they both stood there. Italy's excitement faded again once he realized they were comforting him.

It almost made him cry, but his heart was beating too fast, and in that moment it felt like his S/O knew everything about him. He felt loved but not understood before this.

And it made him want to never let them go.

Tada~ I know some of them are kind of sad, but relationships aren't always fluffy clouds and marshmellos. Sometimes the greatest realizations come from learning curves and heat of the moment scenerios. With that said, it's not just about following your heart. Sometimes it's just recognizing the thing you truly desire is already right there. As long as it's for the better, and as long as your willing to give equal work towards your futures!

[lolacherri]

Have you ever found those placements within your chart that just utterly strike a nerve? Kind of a dumb question, I mean I think we all do eventually. But I just came across one in particular after delving deeper into dominant planets. I just learned my dominant planet is Pluto which concerned me at first ngl 🙃. It’s still concerning after what I read but not in the way I thought lol.

The aspect that really just hit a nerve was the Pisces Sun 12H Square Scorpio Pluto 8th House (yeah I know 🥲). One thing I’ve always struggled with was putting myself out there. I feel naturally I stick out (it’s not good in a lot of ways) so I’ve always felt I had to scale it back a lot to be able to function in the world. As a result it really stunted me from putting myself out there, even creatively, out of fear of judgement or people criticizing my way of being vulnerable. That’s how I see it at least.

It sounds simple, just put myself out there. Who gives a fuck, really. Well I do, a whole lot. I’ve been criticized in almost every facet of my life for not meeting others expectations of me, including my family. Even well into my adulthood. Romantically, platonically, every way. And as a result I diluted those aspects of myself that bring so much happiness and put on this tough exterior (my Aries ASC doesn’t help 🙃). I quite literally built an identity over that scarred, vulnerable part of myself (I learned that in ✨therapy✨). There are a lot of other layers to this but just learning this shook me. The pure nature of that aspect resonates so deeply with a lot of the struggles I’m trying to sort out now. All these barriers that I put up even within myself. Unconsciously. Consciously, I really thought I knew how to manage my emotions and dictate how to process them (yeah right, with my 12H Pisces & 8H Scorpio Stellium 🙄). Then that’s when I learned, in therapy of course, that thinking through your feelings aren’t the same as FEELING your feelings. Bruh. Again, so simple yet how tf did I not see that??? Because it was the me I thought I SHOULD be, but I truly am an emotional creature. More than I’d like to admit.

The only thing I can really do now is heal that part of myself. Give myself grace. Be that figure my younger self needed. Just added a whole other layer to this healing journey.

Man this Jupiter 12H transit got me fkd up bruh 🙃. Fkd up in a good way though.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: Heat Wave

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Mick Rory, also known as Heat Wave. Patient suffers from pyromania and cryophobia; the intelligence test administered upon his admission also suggests that he may have a mild intellectual disability. Session One. 

Heat Wave: Hi, Doc! It’s nice to meet you! 

Hugo Strange: (a bit taken aback) Hello, Mr. Rory. 

Heat Wave: You can call me Mick, Doc. Everybody does. 

Hugo Strange: Very well. Mick, do you know why you are here at Arkham Asylum? 

Heat Wave: I guess they finally decided I was sick enough to be sent here instead of prison. I know I’m not right in the head, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: Actually, no. You’re here because Iron Heights is currently incapable of housing costumed criminals, and a series of bewildering judicial and bureaucratic decisions resulted in all of you“Rogues” being transferred to Arkham until such time as Iron Heights is repaired. That being said, I am glad to hear that you are aware that you have a problem, as it means that you have overcome the first hurdle on the road to recovery. 

Heat Wave: (Pleased) Really, Doc? Boy, am I glad to hear that. 

Hugo Strange: Mick, according to your file, you suffer from pyromania and cryophobia. Is that accurate? 

Heat Wave: Yeah. (Brief pause) That’s what all the shrinks tell me, anyway...and I’ve seen a lot of ‘em over the years. 

Hugo Strange: Yes. And I am certain that you will be pleased to hear that I have experience in treating pyromania. You see, Mick, Arkham Asylum happens to have its own resident pyromaniac. 

Heat Wave: You talkin’ about Garfield Lynns? The Firefly? 

Hugo Strange: Yes, actually. 

Heat Wave: (Clearly nervous) He’s here? Now? 

Hugo Strange: Does that concern you, Mick? 

Heat Wave: Yeah. It...it does, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: Any particular reason?

Heat Wave: I’ve heard things about him, Doc. Bad things. 

Hugo Strange: What sorts of things have you heard, Mick? 

Heat Wave: That he...that he deliberately sets people on fire ‘cause he wants to watch ‘em burn. That he’s a pervert; that he burned his girlfriend alive ‘cause he couldn’t be happy with her unless she was on fire. That he burnt down a zoo to learn what a bunch of dumb, innocent animals looked like when they were on fire. I’ve even heard he intentionally set a little boy on fire once-a kid! How could...how could anyone do that to a kid? (Pause) I’m a sick, sick man, Doc, I’m not denying that. I know I’m the last person who should throw stones about something like this...but Lynns sounds like a psychopath. He sounds like he likes hurting people. I...I don’t wanna be like that, Doc. And I’m scared. I’m scared that that’s what my pyromania’s gonna turn me into. Bad enough that I hurt people when I set buildings on fire...bad enough that I killed my family when I accidentally set our home ablaze….I don’t want to do what he does. I don’t want to go around setting people on fire!

Hugo Strange: Mick, mental illnesses display differently in every sufferer. The fact that you and Mr. Lynns share a common mental illness does not mean that you are necessarily at risk of starting to behave in the way that he does. He has a more serious case of the disease than you do; consequently, his behavior is more destructive and aberrant than yours. 

Heat Wave: Are you sure, Doc? 

Hugo Strange: Quite sure, Mick. If your extensive file is to be trusted-and given the sheer volume of psychologists who have contributed to it, I believe it is-you have never, at any point, expressed any excitement at the idea of a person being on fire. As such, I have no reason to believe that you would take up the habit of deliberately lighting people on fire. 

Heat Wave: But what if I get worse? 

Hugo Strange: Given the diligence with which you apparently seek out therapy even when not incarcerated, I don’t think that your condition is likely to exacerbate, Mick.

Heat Wave: Come again?

Hugo Strange: As long as you continue to seek treatment, you’re not going to get worse.

Heat Wave: Doc, you have no idea how happy you’ve just made me! (Starts crying) 

(Long, awkward pause as Heat Wave cries and Hugo Strange attempts to make soothing “there, there” type noises) 

Hugo Strange: (Clears throat) I am glad that I was able to ease your mind, Mick. 

Heat Wave: (Sniffling) What do you think we should talk about now, Doc? 

Hugo Strange: To be honest, the first question that comes to mind is how you have survived so long as a criminal when you’re willing to weep so openly and readily over something comparably minor. I was under the impression that such behavior would be viewed as a weakness to be taken advantage of, Mick.

Heat Wave: I’m six foot four and weigh 240 pounds, and pretty much everyone knows that I’m a pyromaniac. That tends to intimidate people into keeping their mouths shut. (Pause)  I...I actually don’t much like fighting, and the sight of blood makes me feel a little ill, but almost nobody knows that because pretty much everybody’s too wary of me to try picking fights. The guys who are dumb enough to try get pummeled by Digger and Evan before they ever get to me. See, that’s the thing with the Rogues. If you pick a fight with one of us, you pick a fight with all of us...and Digger and Evan fight really dirty. 

Hugo Strange: In other words, you’ve survived because your reputation precedes you. (Pause) And, I suppose, because you have a pair of excessively violent friends. 

Heat Wave: Pretty much, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: In speaking of your friends...why did you join the Rogues, Mick? Serial arsons motivated by your illness aside, you don’t exactly strike me as a career criminal. 

Heat Wave: I...I was hoping to turn the pyromania into a gimmick. I thought that maybe...maybe it would help me get my sickness under control if I used it as a theme. Dumb idea, I know, but I was desperate. And in my early twenties. That makes you stupid by definiton. 

Hugo Strange: And why are you still with them, Mick? Is it the money? 

Heat Wave: No. It’s because they became my new family, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: Wanting to build a new family for yourself is an understandable motivation, Mick...but wouldn’t you be better off finding one that isn’t entirely composed of violent career criminals? 

Heat Wave: Probably...but Doc, the world wouldn’t be. The Rogues are the only family I can have, because they’re the only ones who can protect themselves from me. I destroyed my first family. I...I can’t risk doin’ it again. 

Hugo Strange: So in order to protect people from you, you help a bunch of career criminals rob banks and jewelry stores whilst wearing a fireproof suit, calling yourself Heat Wave, and wielding a flamethrower? I don’t understand your logic, Mick. 

Heat Wave: (Pause) You know, somehow it makes a lot less sense when you say it. 

Hugo Strange: (Sighs) I believe you honestly mean well, Mr. Rory. Unfortunately, you have very little common sense; most likely stemming from the fact that, as the intelligence tests that were administered to you suggest, you are mildly intellectually impaired. 

Heat Wave: I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that, Doc. The guys are always tellin’ me that I’m a bit slow. 

Hugo Strange: Fortunately, with enough therapy, I believe that we will be able to help you overcome your mild cognitive impairments. 

Heat Wave: Sounds great, Doc! 

Hugo Strange: You are by far one of the most cooperative patients I have ever encountered, Mick, and I would like to thank you for that. 

Heat Wave: Hey, Doc, no problem! With all that you’re doin’ to help me, I should be thanking you! 

Hugo Strange: That won’t be necessary, Mick. I am simply doing my job. (Pause) Now tell me, Mick-what do you think of the Flash? 

Heat Wave: The Flash? He’s great. I’ve never met a nicer guy. 

Hugo Strange: You...like the Flash? 

Heat Wave: Of course! (Pause) Just...don’t tell the guys, okay?

Hugo Strange: Nothing you say is leaving this room, Mick. You do not have to worry about my telling anyone, including your fellow “Rogues”. 

Heat Wave: Oh. Good. (Pause) Yeah, I like the Flash. He wants to help everybody. He’s even gotten me into contact with some of my therapists.

Hugo Strange: Fascinating. (Pause) Unfortunately, we have reached the end of today’s session. I will see you the same time tomorrow, Mick. 

Heat Wave: Okay, Doc! See you then! 

[mint-yooxgi]

{4} - Obsession

Yandere AU - Part of the EXO Obsession Series

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: EXO OT9 X Reader (with a particular focus on X-EXO)

Words: 2,939

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Next update is here!!! Ouuuu! I’m excited, and I can’t wait for you all to see what I have planned. I know I say that every time but I'm serious. I know the general direction I want this story to go in, but with each chapter, I can add something new to the plot line, and I really hope you all like it! Things are about to get heated, hehehe... As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, I hope you enjoy!

Previous ~ Next

The next few days at the compound pass by with slightly higher tensions than usual. Everybody is on high alert for any activity regarding the clones whereabouts and plans. You can tell your strike team is especially weary of you, them wanting to make sure one of them is with you at all times in case something happens.

It’s early in the afternoon when you’re walking back to your office from lunch. You can hear soft voices coming from inside your office the closer you get, and you tense slightly. The clones wouldn’t be dumb enough to come to you while you’re at the compound, would they?

Opening the door to your office cautiously, you feel your shoulders relax as you see Minseok, Kyungsoo, and Yixing all stationed around your desk, talking with each other.

“What seems to be the problem, boys?” You quirk a brow, shutting the door quietly behind you as you move to take your seat at your desk.

“They have some questions for you since I wouldn’t answer them for them,” Kyungsoo sighs, leaning against the table you have at the side of the room while both Yixing and Minseok take the seats on the opposite side of your desk.

“Yeah?” You turn your gaze fully to the men across from you. “What’s up?”

“Since Kyungsoo won’t tell us anything, or even comment fully on the matter, we’ve decided to come ask you,” Minseok begins.

“Ever since a few days ago, when you told us all about how the clones came to see you at your apartment, Minseok and I have taken the liberty to observe your strike team closely,” Yixing continues. “We’ve noticed some things.”

You nod, waiting for them to continue. If they can point out things you’ve yet to notice, that will be a great help to you in figuring out things, especially involving the clones.

“First, we’ve noticed how they all seem rather protective over you,” Minseok says, maintaining eye contact with you in hopes to gage your reactions. “If one of them isn’t with you, another will be quick to take his place. In fact, we were surprised when you entered your office alone just now, for we were expecting at least one of them to be with you.”

“Second, whenever two or more of them are in a room together with you, the one who is closest to you receives cautious looks from the others,” Yixing adds. “Sometimes said member will receive harsh stares, borderline glares, if they make you laugh or smile in front of the others. So far, the worst looks we’ve seen have come from Baekhyun and Jongdae.”

You hum in thought, slowly nodding your head along with what you’re being told. It’s nice to have an outsider’s opinion on how your strike team interacts with you. You can’t keep your eyes on them at all times, and it would be beneficial to have people you can actually trust looking out for you. There’s no three people you trust, or rely on, more than Kyungsoo, Minseok, and Yixing.

“At times it would seem as if they are jealous of one another,” Kyungsoo chimes in, arms crossed in front of his chest as his face reflects minor amusement. You two share a look.

“Exactly,” Yixing nods in agreement. “Baekhyun seems to tense the most when another person touches you. Chanyeol tenses when someone makes you laugh. Jongin when someone compliments you. Junmyeon when you call someone else’s name but not his own. Sehun scowls when you smile at someone who is not him, and Jongdae seems to not like it when you discuss strategy with others, though we’re still trying to figure him out. If any one of them is best at hiding their emotions it’s him.”

“Hang on, you just said he has some of the worst glares towards the others though,” your brow furrows in confusion.

“That’s true, his eyes can look quite deadly,” Minseok confirms. “However, he rarely shows them. Doesn’t make them any less powerful when he does, though.”

“Which is why we’re concerned,” Yixing continues to say, and you notice Minseok nodding along with him. “We’ve tried asking Kyungsoo what’s going on but he won’t tell us anything, and when we do get something out of him, he just tells us to ask you.”

“Hence why we’re here at the moment,” Minseok states, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees. “We need to know, is there something going on between you and your strike team that you’re not telling us? Cause from the looks of things, they all seem to be infatuated with you.”

“As your friends, and teammates, we’re concerned,” Yixing voices, brow furrowed in a slight frown. 

You can see the concern etched onto both of their faces as they stare at you. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo just looks amused at this entire situation, lips quirked into a slight smirk as he continues to lean against the table. You let out a sigh.

“That’s the thing,I can’t give you a direct answer because I don’t honestly know myself. There’s nothing like that going on between my strike team and I, but I also have a hunch that they’re all fascinated with me in some way, and not in the traditional mentor-pupal way,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “I’ve already discussed this with Kyungsoo, but here’s everything you need to know.”

With that, you jump into the full explanation of what happened the other night at your apartment with the clones, as well as everything you’ve come to learn about them. Both Minseok and Yixing remain silent as you explain. You trust them enough to let them in on this, and to keep this to themselves.

“The only reason I didn’t tell you yet was because I didn’t want to get you guys involved in case things went south. So far, only the four of us know the full truth, and I’d like to keep it that way until I can figure out what to do with both my strike team, and their clones,” you explain, closing your eyes briefly as you rub your temples. “I don’t know what to expect from their clones, nor the lengths they’re willing to go yet. The last thing I need is to create more tensions between them, and have the squad fall apart.”

“I think we can help with that,” Minseok grins.

“How so?” Your eyes narrow slightly in curiosity.

“We’ll keep an eye on your strike team when you can’t, and then report back to you with what we find,” Minseok says, quirking a brow in your direction as he sees you thinking things over. “That way we can keep an eye on them for you when you’re not around, and possibly gather more intelligence on this entire situation.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Kyungsoo voices, pushing himself off the table in order to stand between both Yixing and Minseok with his arms still crossed.

“We’d have to set up meetings to discuss this, maybe once or twice a week, so that way we can fill you in on everything new we discover,” Yixing adds, but before he can continue, you’re speaking.

“Let me think about it for a day,” you tell them, and visibly see them all furrow their brows in confusion. “Getting you three involved means putting you in danger, and the last thing I want is for any of you to get hurt because of me.”

It also mean admitting to them that you’re not staying with Kyungsoo at the moment, but you have a feeling they’ve already gathered as much.

“That’s really considerate of you, as always,” Yixing smiles.

“But we don’t want you having to handle this by yourself,” Minseok adds.

“Besides,” Kyungsoo hums, “you could use all the help you can get.”

You remain silent for a moment, mulling it over in your mind, weighing the pros and cons of them aiding you. Obviously they can’t be with you all of the time, but knowing that when you’re here at the compound, you have three extra sets of eyes watching out for you does lift some of the weight off of your shoulders. What do you have to lose?

“Okay,” you nod once, firmly. “I agree. It would be nice having some help figuring everything out. However, we still need to discuss when and where we’ll be meeting, since it’s risky always meeting up in my office on the regular, especially with everything going on.”

As if to prove your point, a faint knock is heard on your office door before Jongdae is peeking his head into your office. From the faint shadows you can see on the wall behind him, you can tell he’s not alone.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, eyes scanning over each of your faces briefly before his eyes lock with yours. You can see the subtle twitch of his eyebrow in annoyance.

“No, not at all,” you reply, lips quirking slightly in a small smile as he pushes the door open to reveal both Junmyeon and Sehun standing behind him. You turn your attention back to the three men in front of you, “we’ll continue this discussion later.”

With a nod from the three of them, they begin to make their way out of the room, the new arrivals taking their previous positions in front of your desk. As soon as your office door closes behind the last person out, Junmyeon turns his attention to you.

“What was all that about?” He inquires, brow quirked in questioning.

“Oh nothing,” you brush him off with a wave of your hand. “Just talks about some equipment upgrades, is all.” You hear them hum, but you can tell Jongdae and Junmyeon aren’t convinced. “What is it you three wanted to talk to me about?”

The conversation with the three of them passes by fairly quickly for you, that you barely remember everything that was discussed. You’re a little frustrated that your meeting with Kyungsoo, Minseok, and Yixing got cut short, but you know there’ll be plenty more to come. You just need to figure out a way to meet up without it becoming suspicious.

You’re currently resting on your couch in your living room, thinking over different plans. You could have them meet with you at your house, for you know it’s not bugged, nor does anyone else know where you actually live. However, that means letting Minseok and Yixing in on your little secret. Meeting in a public place is too risky, plus you don’t want anyone overhearing the conversation. If you were to do it over video, there’s a chance of being hacked, too. 

You frown, frustration clear on your features. You can’t seem to figure out what the best option would be, and at the moment, you’re leaning towards housing the meetings here, in your own home. At least you’d know nothing could go wrong, and you could always just move again if anything were to happen. You just hope that whatever you decide to do, is the right decision.

Peering outside your window, you see that the sun has long set. The only light in your house comes from the artificial glow of your lamps. Sitting up with a sigh, you figure you might as well try to get some sleep tonight in order to face the challenges you know will make an appearance tomorrow.

Moving around your house, you make sure to turn off all the lights and set the alarm for the evening. No harm in being extra cautious. Once you’re ready, you tuck yourself into bed, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling. You can tell this will be a restless night, for your thoughts are running wild. You have yet to fully accept the fact that despite them not being honest about it, your strike team fancies you, and you don’t know how to feel about that. One might say you’re in denial.

Soon enough, the morning rolls around and you manage to pull yourself out of bed after an extra hour of sleep. Some mornings, as captain, you’re allowed to come in later than everyone else. You’re just glad it’s one of those mornings now.

Grabbing your phone you see a bunch of missed calls and notifications from your strike team, as well as Kyungsoo, Minseok, and Yixing. Clicking on Kyungsoo’s messages, your brow furrows as you read them over.

Kyungsoo: (Y/n), there’s been an emergency at work.

Kyungsoo: Not a mission, but something bad happened overnight.

Kyungsoo: Call me as soon as you see these.

Without giving it another thought, you rip off your blankets while pressing to call Kyungsoo. You quickly move around your room to get ready as the call connects. It only rings once before you hear his voice.

“Where have you been, we’ve all been worried sick,” he scolds you, and you let out a small huff. You can tell he’s moved away from the others, otherwise he wouldn’t sound so worried.

“Good morning to you, too, Kyungsoo. I slept pretty shitty, thanks for asking,” you retort with a slight roll of your eyes before steeling your resolve in the next moment. “What’s going on? My phone is notification city this morning.”

“There’s been a break-in at the compound,” he gets right to the point and you freeze momentarily. “That’s all I’ll say for now, but get here as soon as you can.”

“Fuck- okay, I’ll be right there,” you respond, hanging up in the next second to focus on pulling on your clothes. You have a feeling this break-in relates to the clones, and an unsettling feeling builds in your gut.

Hopping into your car once you’re finished getting ready, you speed to the compound. You barely make it ten steps through the door when both Sehun and Baekhyun are surrounding you.

“Where were you?” Sehun asks, voice firm as he walks beside you.

“Yeah, and why weren’t you answering your phone?” Baekhyun reprimands you.

“I was sleeping in, I had a rough night,” you reply gruffly.

“We thought you would have come to work with Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol’s voice sounds from your left and you notice he’s joined the three of you.

“I told him to go ahead without me, but I didn’t think something like this would happen,” you sigh, shaking your head slightly.

Reaching the main area, the three of you quickly make your way over to where everyone is standing, looking over some files on the table.

“Brief me,” you command once you reach the edge of the table.

All eyes turn to you now, as you wait for someone to start speaking.

“The compound was broken into last night,” Junmyeon begins to say.

“Yeah, that much I know,” you nod. “What are the details?”

It’s at this moment that you notice both Jongin and Jongdae are missing from the table.

“It looks like both Chen and Kai broke in last night and stole some of our supplies,” Minseok says. “Both Jongdae and Jongin are in for questioning at the moment, hence why they’re not here.”

“Yeah, took my favourite pair of rapiers,” Baekhyun mumbles.

“Along with some tracking equipment and tech supplies,” Yixing frowns at him.

“You don’t think-“

“That’s exactly what we think,” Chanyeol confirms your thoughts by cutting you off.

“It’s what I would do,” Junmyeon admits, and you notice the other three nodding along with him in agreement. “Infiltrate and gather the best supplies to get the target.”

“What else?” You question, exhaling a long breath as you close your eyes briefly.

“They broke into your office,” Kyungsoo states and your eyes fling open.

“They did what?” Your harsh gaze meets Kyungsoo’s and he simply raises a brow at you.

“It doesn’t look like they took anything though,” Baekhyun adds, moving over to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

However, before he can make contact, you're turning around and speeding down the hallways until you reach your office. Flinging the door open you rush inside, the others following close behind. Rummaging through your bottom drawer, you pop the hidden compartment to pull out a small locked box.

You briefly make eye contact with Kyungsoo as you enter your code to unlock the box. Only two other people know the combination to this box besides you, and one of them is standing in this room.

You can feel the curious stares of your teammates on you as you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the worst. You hear the lock click open.

Ever so slowly, you open the lid to the box and your breath hitches in your throat. With wide eyes, you pull out a small piece of paper.

Your hands are shaking a you slowly unfurl the note. Whether it’s from anger, confusion, or from being this upset, you do not know. Once it��s opened, your eyes scan the words written on the page.

We’re taking this to ensure your motivation. If you want it, come and claim it.

Throwing the note onto your desk, you stand up quickly, your desk chair slamming into the wall behind you from the force. Your hands grip the side of your desk so hard, you swear you hear the wood crack slightly from the pressure. There’s only one other person who knows of this box and of its importance to you. Your breathing picks up as a fire lights behind your eyes, his name passing as a growl from your lips.

Jongdae.

[scriptaed]

his side, her side | 7:00 P.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; (bold = genre for this particular drabble)

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 2.9k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 4;

her side; 

Even if it pains you to admit, you knew that this—whatever it is between you and Jungkook—was more than just something… or at least to you, that is; because to part ways after an ephemeral five minute small talk right outside the company’s doors only to long for next week when your opportunity to relive what most would consider an insignificant five minutes of your seven days has to mean something. 

That unequivocal something, however, would forever be a crush mislabeled as boredom. 

“So how far do you live from work?”

Oh, shoot. Does that question seem too invasive? Peeping around at your chattering colleagues of whom gradually fade into the distance behind you two, you figure the coast is clear. The last thing you would want is to assume the new subject of your coworkers’ morning gossip rumors. You can just imagine it. Your stalkerish tendencies and your supposed obsession with the partner of your most recent project, Jungkook… they would call you a lonesome girl with fleeting emotions, willing to fall for any boy who gives her the slightest of attention.

That image, in itself, has been a nightmare you’ve grudgingly albeit successfully steered clear of.

It seems that your coworkers should not be the subject of your concerns, however, because even the shadow that befalls his profile that blocks the lamp post’s white-blue glow is not enough to blind you from Jungkook’s sneer. Your partner peers down at you and speaks his seldom words of the night, “wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“Wh—” you’re at a loss for words, not exactly because of his remark but rather over his rare choice to speak in exchange for an opportunity to tease you… something he hasn’t done in the past month of your blossoming relations “—what? I was just wondering how far you lived because you mentioned driving to work before.”

“Yeah,” he simply answers without further elaboration over his sudden tease. “I live with my brother. About five minutes away. Not too far.”

“You have a brother?” 

“Yeah,” he pauses, “you have any siblings?”

“What do you think? Do I look like I have any?” 

You lean back, as if to allow him to have a gander over your appearance that supposedly dictates your compatibility for a sibling. To your surprise, the boy who’s usually much less easily entertained turns his head as an acceptance to your challenge. The thought of his absolute attention focused on you, eyes scanning you up and down, is enough to have you slightly regretting your question. You’ve never been the type to feel self conscious; but moments like these, when you fidget with your hands and hastily tuck a lock of your hair behind the ears, you’re left wondering why he, of all people, is an exception. 

The spur of the moment skews your balance and you rock back and forth, subtly albeit unsuccessfully avoiding further attention from the boy before you; because as your right foot slips back only to counter the sway by pushing forward, your dumb self unintentionally pushes your left arm firmly against him. 

Your arm doesn’t just touch—no, it wasn’t a graze and it surely wouldn’t seem like a mere accident by the standards of people with a normal sense of balance, but it’s more of an assertive lean to the point that you’re sharing his warmth and molding into his well-toned biceps that you’ve covertly ogled at for the past weeks until his firm stature becomes the reason you’re not stumbling forward like a goofball.

Even the most dense of them all would have picked up on it; but Jungkook isn’t just any boy, because whether for the better or worse, he chooses not to mention the small mishap. 

“You seem like the older sister type,” he mentions, averting his attention ahead to the dimly lit sidewalk. 

“Oh,” you can only mumble as your arm dwells over the wake of his touch.

Wait, what does he mean by that? Do you seem reliable? Or does he see you as a know-it-all? Does he think you’re the girly type? The responsible type? And was it supposed to be a compliment?

One too many seconds had passed by for you to inquire for further elaboration. Instead, the occasional silence between you two has you scrambling for a new topic after the death of its promising albeit lackluster precedent.

“What about you? You live near here?” 

Alas, you can internally sigh in relief because at least the struggle to rekindle the conversation is a mutual one. Maybe he doesn’t think you’re too boring, after all.

“I live across the bridge and a few blocks down, so I just walk to work.” 

“Across the bridge?” he articulates with much more vigor than you’re used to. Ultimately, your surprise is short-lived when a cocked grin replaces his temporary gawk. “Try not to get mugged.”

“Wooow. Considering the sun sets before we’re out of work and crossing that bridge when it’s dark is a legitimate fear I have,” you give him the worst stank eye possible, “thank you for your concern.”

The damn boy only grins, “no problem.” 

As oddly comforting your usual, silence-filled conversations with Jungkook have been in the past, you don’t think you would be too disinclined to fiddle with your partner’s snarky attitude once in a while. Maybe you’re overanalyzing or maybe you’re excessively shrewd, but the organic flow between the two of you is starting to awfully resemble that of two close friends. 

But are you friends or are you merely colleagues coerced into working overtime? 

“Boy, I swear I will—”

“—oh shit,” Jungkook beats you to the curses, like usual, “I forgot to bring my card.” 

“So?” you quirk a brow at the distraught boy. “Just go home and make some food. Our cafeteria sucks anyways.” 

The boy turns to look at you, profusely serious and not a glint of shame present in his eyes. Then, he deadpans, “but I’m hungry.”

“So... you want me to spot you.”

“Hey,” he finally chortles with a slightly embarrassed grin akin to that of a child caught red-handed, “I skipped dinner after gym so that I could make it to work on time!”

“No one told you to skip dinner!”

His already ear-to-ear grin widens, if that was even possible, “I did it so you wouldn’t be alone!” 

Spotting your friends has never been a predicament for you; this, however, you’re not too keen on lending money to a boy whose relations are only based upon work, mutual friends, and endless inevitable crossovers between his path and yours—in fact, too many to be under the hands of mere happenstance. 

Surely, the two of you have grown much more acquainted than ever in the last month, but it’s not like you two never interacted before. On the rare occasion that Jungkook actually greeted you, a plea for help regarding work would always follow shortly after. To you, he only saw you as a reliable source. He never saw you as a friend and you never saw him more than a mere colleague. Even now, after all the sparks between you two, it’s difficult for you not to suspect his ulterior motives. 

You will not be taken advantage of. Just because he’s slightly—okay, maybe profusely—above average in looks, you will not make a fool of yourself. What happens next, however, takes you and your adamant determination by surprise.

“Okay, fine...” you grumble. “But you owe me boba!” 

“Boba?” his eyes pop as he chuckles. “Alright, sure.”

“Yeah, in fact, you owe me three boba,” you add. “I like roasted oolong milk tea with egg pudding. Write it down.”

“Three?” he gawks. “Wait, roasted oolong and what…?” 

He had asked a question, yet you can’t help but simply smile at him from ear to ear. Was this really happening? Was he serious or was this another one of your playful bickers?

Shrugging and stifling the laugh that threatens to slip from your lips, you decide to let fate override your usual level-headed reasoning, “take me and I’ll let you know.”

In that fleeting moment, the flutters in your stomach and the adrenaline that coursed through your veins were worth it all; and it wouldn’t be until months later that you discover your last leap of faith was not one worth taking. 

-

his side;

“So how far do you live from work?”

Her question finally ceases the dreadful standstill. The internal sigh after a prolonged bated breath and the realization of the unknown implications of such relief strikes Jungkook as an oddity. Clearly a quiet, standoffish man who strays from the center of attention, Jungkook had always preferred to observe rather than participate. To him, the state of nothing is where he belongs and silence is his safe haven—and yet, around Y/N, he can’t help but chant words of panic: shit, what do I say next? 

As thankful as Jungkook was for his partner’s break of silence, he, himself, isn’t aware enough of his once stone cold pond of a state, now disturbed by ripples of which its origins are unknown. Instead, the moment of anomaly is mistranslated into the only expression he’s developed a knack for. A sneer. 

Well, that wasn’t exactly what he wanted… but he figured he was close enough with Y/N to joke around with her by now, right?

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“Wh—” Jungkook peers down at her baffled response “—what? I was just wondering how far you lived because you mentioned driving to work before.”

It would be a lie to deny how the look of bewilderment that plasters her face doesn’t egg him and his teasing streak onwards. Despite being a man of few words and little thoughts, the rare sense of amusement brought upon by her short-lived distraught catalyzed by himself, truly, has Jungkook scratching his head. The tinge of guilt intermixed with worry that perhaps he had gone too far only furthers the confusion. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook returns to his usual collected albeit monotonous composure, “I live with my brother. About five minutes away. Not too far.”

“You have a brother?” 

“Yeah—” what should he say now “—you have any siblings?”

“What do you think? Do I look like I have any?” 

Oh? He’s a bit hesitant to hurl a curse at his partner, but how the hell is he supposed to know?

When she leans back to open her profile to the boy, something Jungkook has realized is a rarity for the usually closed-off, shifty girl, the boy has no choice but to play along with her antics… either that or he lacks the energy to deny her politely. The boy turns, scanning his partner up and down with little haste and no specific game-plan. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s supposed to be looking for, but what he finds is much more than what he was expecting. 

For someone who speaks with such wisdom, who performs so well in every criteria, who seems to know the answer to all his questions, the way she fidgets with her hands and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear at this very moment as he watches her conflicted with the confident impression he once only knew. He had taken note of her occasional avoidance of his eyes—something which he had amusedly combated with an even more intense, to which she never challenged—but her wavering gaze that flickers on whatever was on the ground is especially prevalent today. 

Funny. 

Then she begins to lose her balance. How? Jungkook had no fucking clue; but before he knew it, she was swaying back and forth until her left arm finally stabilizes the rather skittish gal… through the use of his right arm.  

The sudden contact catches Jungkook off guard. No, it isn’t enough of a surprise to have him jolting back—although nothing really could elicit such a reaction from a boy like Jungkook—but he does notice the firm, close contact between her and him. The closest he’s ever been to her was visually through the eyes and the closest he’s ever touched her was tactually through the occasional graze of his fingertips against the back of her hand. Sure, his bare skin could only feel the cotton of her sweater and the moment of contact lasted for an ephemeral two seconds, but even that is enough to leave an imprint on that night. 

There’s no doubt in Jungkook’s mind that it was all accidental. Y/N isn’t the type to mess around with boys like him… but did she notice? 

Turning his head to the sidewalk brightly illuminated by white and gulping whatever was in his throat, he decides to fill the awkward silence, “you seem like the older sister type.”

“Oh.”

Shit, why does she sound so disappointed? She doesn’t think it’s an insult, does she? Well, it really isn’t his fault if he struck a nerve, Jungkook internally shrugs, he was just answering a question. He had to admit, though, her unpredictable sway of emotions was entertaining to say the least. If she really wanted an elaboration, she could always ask and he could easily clear up his intentions. 

But what’s the fun in a conversation without speculation? 

And so, Jungkook figures he’d leave her at that. 

“What about you? You live near here?” 

“I live across the bridge and a few blocks down, so I just walk to work.” 

“Across the bridge?” Jungkook gapes, although he’s unsure of why his expression is much more of an exaggerated version of how he really feels. Something about the drama of it all fueled the conversation further. Grinning, he remarks, “try not to get mugged.”

“Wooow. Considering the sun sets before we’re out of work and crossing that bridge when it’s dark is a legitimate fear I have—” damn, that was a long sentence and her stank eye doesn’t help any bit “—thank you for your concern.”

Her anger only spurs him and his unexplained satisfaction forward, “no problem.” 

Jungkook had always kept his circle of friends close and tight. It isn’t like he preferred it that way, but the world of simplicity and permanency gravitated toward him. Unlike the other countless guys who liked to spend their nights surrounded by girls whose names they didn’t know nor cared to know, his closed lifestyle kept him grounded. If someone were to tell him years ago at orientation that this girl would eventually be holding a conversation closely resembling that of two close friends, he never would have believed them; but now that he’s here, he could definitely see it. 

“Boy, I swear I will—”

“—oh shit,” a wave of terror overtakes the boy as he rummages through the pockets of his shorts “—I forgot to bring my card.” 

“So?” his partner quirks a brow at him and he almost narrows his eyes at her preposterous advice that follows. “Just go home and make some food. Our cafeteria sucks anyways.” 

A ravenous growl rumbles across his abdomen. The regret for having skipped his usual granola bar in exchange for making it to work on time after gym returns with vengeance. The two things Jungkook had no shame in taking seriously were: one, gym, and two, food. As cautious as he has been around his seemingly delicate partner, he had no shame in turning to look straight at her. Next, he deadpans, “but I’m hungry.”

“So…” the girl mulls, each second egging on the emptiness of his stomach. “You want me to spot you.”

“Hey—” well, that isn’t exactly what he wanted and now he just seems like a leech but prolonging the swift conversation that had developed as well as filling the hole in his stomach doesn’t sound too bad “—I skipped dinner after gym so that I could make it to work on time!”

“No one told you to skip dinner!”

He can’t help it when his grin widens, “I did it so you wouldn’t be alone!” 

Truthfully, her advice would have been much less of a bother to Jungkook. One, he wouldn’t have to spend all this time and effort convincing her. Two, he probably would’ve been home by now and enjoying his masterfully cooked instant noodles. Most importantly, he wouldn’t seem like he was trying to take advantage of his partner because severing their professional relationship and borderline friendship was not in his plans. 

As little of a crap he gave about the impression he gave others, he wasn’t that shitty of a person to willingly be the bad guy… and certainly not to Y/N. 

“Okay, fine...” she finally grumbles to his relief. “But you owe me boba!” 

“Boba?” he can’t help but chuckle in disbelief. “Alright, sure.”

“Yeah, in fact, you owe me three boba,” she asserts. “I like roasted oolong milk tea with egg pudding. Write it down.”

“Three?” Jungkook gasps; and this time, he really means it. “Wait, roasted oolong and what…?” 

How the hell is he supposed to remember that? And does she want it delivered to her house or work or what? 

Her next remark, however, answers his question. “Take me and I’ll let you know.”

Food might be all that he sees at the moment, but if obliging to her request could induce further conversations and get him to the light at the end of the tunnel? Then to Jungkook, that’s a win-win. Someday, he’ll take her when they’re truly friends and not mere coworkers with coerced interactions. 

Maybe not now, not later, but certainly in the near future. 

[zmediaoutlet]

Have u got any recs (yours or other peeps) of sex pollen fics? Lmao crack or not i dont mind !!! Xx

anon there are like–so many sex pollen fics out there, so many reclists, omg. I recommend you check thewincestreader – and I’m sure @wellcometothedarkside has some sex pollen lists for you – but for now I need to write something today and, you know what, let’s try it:

(read on AO3)

Dean’s trying to be careful—he really is, no matter whatkind of face Sam might aim his way when he insists. It’s just not his faultthat this goddamn weirdo of a would-be wizard has the worst organization sinceSam at age fourteen, and it’s really not Dean’s fault that when he edgesa big zebrawood chest off the high shelf of this wardrobe and the damn thingbursts open in his hands.

“Son of a bitch!” he gets out, through the explosionof—what? Silk handkerchiefs, and who knows what kind of herbs—Sam, probably—andthe rattle of, ugh, bones he doesn’t want to investigate more, and through itall a weird kind of haze that drifts over his eyes and makes him sneeze once,and then twice, and then he coughs and tastes honey in the back of his throatand when he wipes a hand over his face it feels—and he takes a deep breath andthe haze in the air doesn’t look like dust-sparkling-in-sunlight, like the restof the sunny afternoon streaming in the grimy windows has, but insteadsomething… physical, something here, and he says, again, with morefeeling: “Son of a bitch,” just as Sam crashes into the roomand says, “Dean?” before giving him, yes, the friggin’ face.

Worst part at first is that he knows immediately that he can’tdrive. Second worst part, Sam asking him the twenty questions, like he has any damnidea about the answers. He stands on the sagging porch in the clear woodsy air,gulping fresh tree smells and the faint rankness of the molding pine, and thehaze settles heavy in his vision: everything faintly gold-tinged, fuzzy at thecorners, like an old shitty photo. His reactions are sluggish too, except whenSam comes up beside him with the box full of evidence tucked under his arm, andDean grabs his elbow in shock like, if he says so himself, a striking snake,and feels Sam start, all nine feet of him. “Dude,” Dean says,complaining weakly. About what, he doesn’t know. Take a number.

“Come on,” Sam says, and does him the service ofat least pretending to sound compassionate while he sticks his hand in Dean’sfront pocket and steals the keys. In the car, then, and the passenger seatmaking the world seem weird and wrong-way-round like it always does, and thesensation of the world bleeding away around the edges makes him nauseatedenough that he closes his eyes and just listens to the engine instead. Yeah,better. The rumble, and the tires working their way steadily over the bumpywoods path and then onto clean smooth asphalt, rolling easy, the car respondinglike she should even if the wrong hands are on the wheel.

Their place during this whole thing—chasing Mr. Wizard, and killinghim, and investigating whatever other weird experiments he’d had going onbesides a cougar-woman hybrid that was, frankly, terrifying to kill—has beenanother cabin, closer to town but private enough, and it’s got a king bed and aporch to watch the sun set over the lake and a minifridge full of beer. Dean’sgrateful for the last part, fumbling his way across the wood floor as he stripsoff his jacket, too hot. “Dean,” Sam says, and Dean opens his eyes tofind himself sitting on the floor in the kitchenette, shoulders pressed againstthe cool plastic face of the fridge, and he doesn't—remember, getting here, butit’s nice anyway.

“Dean,” Sam says, closer, and smiling kind of—Sammysmiling, that’s nice, that doesn’t happen enough in Dean’s book—and he’s clear,clear even though the rest of the world is really just fuzz, the planes of hisface vivid, that curl that always pops up under his ear in perfect detail. Deanreaches out a hand and tweaks it between two fingers, his breathing feelingweird. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, agreeing pointlessly, and Sam says,“Have you been listening, at all?”

Dean snorts. “Obviously,” he says, and Sam hearsit for the lie it is and rolls his eyes, and then says, “Okay, give meyour hands,” and Dean puts them on Sam’s face, rubbing his thumbs alongSam’s cheekbones. Sam blinks at him and the smile that time is—oh, different.Better. His face, yeah. Yeah. Sam takes his wrists—soft, like Sam isn’tsometimes—and says, “Yeah, buddy, that’s it—come here,” and standsup, and Dean rises up with him without any apparent decision making from hisbrain.

His brain. He breathes in, smells Sam. Salt and the sweatfrom the day, and their Alpine Fresh laundry detergent, and the Old Spice inhis pits, and he says, carefully, “I got hit with something, huh?”and Sam half-laughs and says, “Got it in one, man,” and then says,“Hey, Dean.”

Big hand on Dean’s jaw. He leans into it, feels like all hisbody-weight’s there. “Sam,” he says, the only natural response, andSam touches his waist, holds him steady. “Oh, man, you’re wasted,” hesays, distant somehow, and then he thumbs under Dean’s lip and leans close,close enough that his face is all Dean can—needs—wants to see. “Tell mewho I am.”

Dean blinks, holds onto Sam’s shirt. “Sammy,” hesays, wanting to be right. Knows he is.

“Yeah,” Sam says, encouraging. “And what elseam I?”

“My brother.” Dean ducks in, smells Sam closer.The hollow of his throat, fuck. Who knew it smelled so good. “My…” hestarts, but there’s not—the words don’t fit, that should go there. There isn’tone. Sam should come up with one. He’s smart. God, he smells good, and Dean's—hot,so hot, and he can hear his heart beating hard in his ears.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam says, low, and cups ahand around the back of his head. “Man, you are gone. Okay. Just—if youcan understand me,” he says, and Dean presses his face into Sam’s throat,presses himself closer, and hears Sam’s breath hitch—"Shit—Dean, it’sgoing to be okay, all right? I think—I’m like ninety percent that it’s notfatal, but it’s going to last a while, and—oh, fuck it, come here—"

It blurs, and it doesn’t. Afternoon still, and the lightpouring through the room, and the heat of it. Dean’s naked, spread on the bed,and he’s not sweating but Sam is, and Sam’s skin—that’s clear, every mole, thefreckle just behind his ear that Dean’s always loved and is so often covered upby that mess of hair. Dean cups his hands around Sam’s jaw, holds him there forDean to look at, because he’s clear in every particular: his eyelashes and his lips,and the tucked-in dent of dimple when Dean says—something—and Sam laughs athim, and Dean becomes aware only after taking in Sam’s face that Sam’s fuckinghim, surging deep with Dean’s thighs slung loose and useless around his hips,slow, good. He arches his back, shoving down on the pressure inside, and Sam’seyes close—but no, no. “Look,” Dean says, stupid, and Sam doesn’t buthe does put his face there beside Dean’s face, their cheeks pressed togetherand Sam’s ear pink and clear in Dean’s vision, and he hauls Dean’s legs up onhis forearms and crushes deep—deeper—and Dean gulps air and touches the sweaton Sam’s back because, oh, there. Sam, Sam, every part of him something Deanloves.

He pushes—uncoordinated—and Sam lifts up, concernedeyebrows, and Dean pushes and Sam lands on his back—and his hands, his hands.Golden light and golden hands and the grip of them, the taste—Dean pushes histongue against the ridge of nail, the bed of it, salt, the fingerprint pressinginto the inside of his cheek. “Jesus,” Sam says, somewhere, butthere’s his ribcage and his chin, and his dick rising high above his hips, wetalready—how?—but Dean takes it in his mouth either way, ignoring Sam’s gaspingprotest of—"Wait—wait, Dean, I already—" but it’s so—solid,and the weight of it right, right, and he sinks down and down and feels it pushinto his throat and Sam’s thighs spasm around him and he says high-up holyshit and Dean presses his forehead against Sam’s belly and his nose intoSam’s pubes and he feels—right, right again, the pain distant, his lungs givingup—and then—no—

Sam’s hands on his face, patting it, holding his throat.“You okay?” he says, red-faced, and Dean doesn’t know why, or why hischest is heaving like it is.

“Sam,” Dean says, dumb, and blinks because his eyesdon’t want to work—wet falling down his cheeks and even Sam sparking strange inhis vision. He gapes, empty. “I—I need—”

“Okay,” Sam says, nodding, and Dean’s drawn up tohis mouth and fed kisses and takes them, so grateful, Sam’s tongue and his lips,his breath filling Dean’s mouth when Dean can’t seem to get the air himself—andSam says, the strangest note in his voice, “Fuck, you’re not evenhard,” his fingers slipping around where Dean’s dick hangs useless fromhis hips—but that doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, and Dean reaches behindhimself and grasps, whining, and Sam knows, Sam knows, and he says, “Yeah—fuck,yeah, I’ve got you, it’s okay,” and that pressure, big and blunt andthreatening and then the, yes, press in, and Dean feels like his lungs work again,and he wraps his hand into Sam’s hair and keeps his face there for Dean to see,to take in, and Sam blinks at him and licks his own open mouth and shoves hiships up, hard, and Dean rocks with it, takes it, because—god—Sam, Sam, Sam.

*

Dean wakes up dry-mouthed, aching. His asshole hurts andwhen he swallows his throat’s raw. “What,” he whispers, and Sam’sthere, immediately, with a glass of water that Dean gulps down.

“How’re your eyes?” Sam says, taking the glassaway.

Dean blinks. Sam’s all he can see at first—bare chest andshoulders, bite—bitemarks?—all over, and a, jesus, hickey blooming up on thebase of his throat. The rest of the room's… there, in a nighttime way, but hestill can’t see the edges. “Not fixed,” he says, rough. Yikes.

A nod and a corner of Sam’s mouth turning up.“Figured,” he says. “Still got a ways to go.”

Dean drags a hand over his face. Aspirin wouldn’t go amiss.“What is it?” he says. “I feel like a—skanky prom date.”

Sam snorts. “I think the only kind of prom date you’dbe is one from a porno,” he says, dry. He shrugs one shoulder. He is stillnaked, Dean realizes, and Dean is too. The sheets are tugged away, though, anda clean blanket’s under Dean’s ass. “It’s a love spell.”

Dean pauses in his struggling to sit up, like an adult.“A love spell.”

Another shrug, and this time the one-sided smile looks alittle smug. “I mean, more or less. Spellwork, as far as I can tell from hisnotes. Trying to get a fair maiden to want him.”

“Is that right.” Dean lets his head thunk backagainst the headboard. He’s never living this down.

“Pretty standard stuff for unscrupulous witches,”Sam says, and his smile goes more natural. “Figure it must not be havingthe same effect, if the feeling’s already there.”

Dean licks his lips. They’re sore, too. Sam looks at himsteady for a few seconds, and then stands up and goes to the kitchenette tofill Dean’s water glass again. His ass looks good, in the lamplight. “Anyway,”Sam says, half over his shoulder. “I figure we can probably work out theworst of it here, and we can start heading back to the bunker in the morning.There’ll be something there to break it, and if all else fails—maybe Cas willknow what to do.”

Cas. Well, there’s a nightmare Dean didn’t need. His chestfeels warm, his fingers itching. He licks his lips again, slides his thighstogether. Slick. Sam leans against the sink, too many yards away, watching himwith eyes that should be hard to see from here but Dean can, Dean can see everydetail, and his whole body’s tingling for it. “Worse ways for a job tofinish up, I guess,” he says, while he’s still halfway coherent, and Samlaughs.

“Yeah, I can think of a few,” he says, and comes backto the bed, and his skin touches Dean’s skin, and that’s all Dean needs, forthe rest of the night.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “ What Death Tastes Like” Part 5

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1    Part 2   Part 3     Part 4

The Joker feels his face covered in soft kisses and although generally speaking he loves being pampered, this particular instance awakens his self-defense mechanism.

“What time is it?” J mutters.

“Let me see,” you stretch for your phone. “12:03 am.”

“I should go,” he lifts his head up from the pillow and you pull him back in your arms, yawning.

“Stay for a little bit longer, ok?”

“Why?”

“I wish to hold on to my birthday present for a few more minutes,” Y/N pleads with the man she senses doesn’t want to be there anymore. “Don’t worry, I’m aware it was a casual affair,” your sad smile prompts a completely out of context answer:

“If you noticed I fell asleep, you should have woken me up!” The King of Gotham complains.

“I fell asleep also,” you snuggle to him and since J is suddenly quiet you whisper. “It was amazing.”

He keeps staring which makes you wonder what the hell is going on in his mind right now.

“At least for me,” you underline after you grasp he won’t comment on the subject; you didn’t have a clue he’ll convert the night you spent together into awkwardness for no reason. “Get out of my tent!” you snap at his behavior, irritated. “Get out!” you shove him and The Clown Prince of Crime doesn’t budge.

“Why are you mad?” he finally addresses the annoyed Y/N.

“Because you’re a jerk!”

“Come again?!” The Joker frowns and Scarecrow’s daughter has a clever response; she doesn’t share his genes for nothing.

“I would but I guess you’re not a big fan of us having sex a second time!!!”

“Wow!” J bitterly scoffs. “You sure can twist a guy’s words, huh? If you really must pry into my personal life, I’ll have you know that I’m not used with small talk afterwards, understand?”

While you wonder if he’s bluffing, you can’t help offer the benefit of doubt served with a side of insolence.

“Well, maybe if you would give it a try with someone that actually cares, you’d have stuff to discuss.”

“Miss Crane, what makes you think Mara doesn’t like me?”

The Joker expects a feisty reply to his audacious remark yet he receives a piece of sturdy logic instead:

“If she was crazy in love, she wouldn’t agree and with this on and off relationship you two have.”

J is obviously displeased at your statement thus Y/N has to unleash her creativity in order to push him comprehend what she’s aiming at.

“The problem is you don’t approach anything important, you only shut down everyone. Even Emma believes she’s not yours.”

The King of Gotham was preparing to lash out but your latest sentence totally catches him off guard.

“What do you mean?!”

“You never talk about her mother granted she keeps asking so Emma presumes you probably stole her from an individual you consider your enemy and raised her as revenge.”

“Huh?!” The Joker gets on his elbow, appalled. “She is my daughter!”

“I say that to her when she panics, unfortunately random people do look similar…,” you twirl a strand of his green hair around your fingers. “Steering clear from issues we’re uncomfortable with doesn’t necessarily result in a positive outcome,” Y/N concludes and her partner is not excited at all.

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?!”

“I’m a Crane,” you peck his lips. “It’s in our blood.”

A lot of thoughts rushing behind those blue eyes and you’re confident his patience is running low; add a short fuse to the combo and according to your flawless instinct J will bite soon.

“Take me for example,” you attempt to cram in the main point of your dialogue before it happens. “I don’t care you’re older, I fancy your company nevertheless: you’re super handsome plus emotionally unattractive…”

“I’m what?!” The Joker interrupts.

“Umm… emotionally unattractive?” you hesitantly repeat while watching him jump off the pillows and start to collect his clothes in the semi darkness.

“Serves me right for sleeping with somebody half my age!” he growls at the young woman realizing she upset him with her rant.

“So you’re 46?” you struggle to joke at his affirmation.

“Listen here, Miss Crane!” J dresses in a hurry, angry at your stunt. “If you imagine you figured me out, you didn’t!! Nobody fucks with me!” he violently kicks the mattress and you can’t avoid it:

“I think I just did. Literally.”

The hate in his demeanor makes you regret opening up; your goal was to imply you like him no matter what yet the aftermath is way off what you intended.

“I apologize, OK?” you sigh and reach your hand for his.

“I hope you perish!” he strikes your fingers with such brutality it stings. “You’re dying anyway but hopefully the Cromyxillium kills you faster!” The Joker unzips the tent and leaves a shocked Y/N breathless at his hurtful tirade.

“That’s all you got? Stupid old man…” you whimper and cuddle under the thin blanket with his cushion.

Grief is not the correct term to describe what you experience for the moment: a perfect birthday turned into exactly the opposite in a blink of an eye simply because The Joker proved once more he has no concept on how to handle dynamite; fire suits him better.

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

Next morning, 10:14am

“Are you hot or cold?” your father inquires since your intravenous therapy commenced 10 minutes ago.

“No,” you gaze at the IV bag and Jonathan lingers by your bed, reminding his offspring about their plan.

“We’ll do 3 hours on, 3 hours off; I’ll monitor your vitals and if you feel strange alert me immediately, deal?”

You nod a yes and his perseverance in aiding you with your terminal cancer evokes a sincere confession:

“Daddy…Thank you for trying to save me…I’m sorry I’m a burden…”

“A burden?!” Scarecrow mumbles.

There are a million facts you should evoke, yet the predominant one keeps hunting you.

“You buried yourself in the lab because of me…and Evelyn left…”

“Evelyn and I broke up for various motives,” your parent grumbles. “Saying I immersed myself into working because of you hints that I was forced into it against my will which is not true. I did everything out of love… I can’t bear the idea of losing you,” he kisses your temple; you wrap your free arm around his neck, squeezing him tight.

“You’re the best dad; I’m lucky you’re my father. If I die… you think mom is waiting for me?...”

Jonathan Crane has the weird sensation he’s choking; his wife died after you were born due to leukemia, now their daughter is fighting for survival: she’s plainly the last fortress separating him from utter madness.

“I couldn’t save your mother, but I’ll be damned if I let you die kid,” he caresses your cheek. “She can wait; I bet she’s not eager to take you with her,” Scarecrow reassures his daughter. “Rest honey.”

“I will…” you consent and Emma barging in the bedroom with her duffle bag switches your attention.

“I’m here, I’m here!” she exclaims. “Traffic was horrible, bad accident on the freeway!”

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

11 am

“Are you comfortable?” Emma checks with her friend, not entirely certain how to bring up a very delicate topic clouding her usually bubbly disposition.

“Of course,” you smile and she wiggles in her recliner. “Are you?” you wink at her visible restlessness as you attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“Y/N…,” she taps the fluffy carpet with her feet. “Mmmm… last night after we returned from the river I dropped by to see how you’re doing and… I came to your tent…,” Emma pauses seeing the stupefied expression on your face. “I…I found my father sleeping in there with you…”

You lick your lips and strain to keep your calm even if your heart is pounding out of your chest.

“Did my dad take advantage of you?” she lowers her voice and you can tell she’s torn apart by the horrible notion.

“He didn’t,” you shake your head.

“Dumb girl…” Emma admonishes without any trace of resentment; what else can she articulate in these circumstances regardless?  

“I can’t believe I’m inquiring… Did you use protection?”

“No…It just happened…”

“Oh my God!” the concerned judgement pressures you to continue:

“It didn’t end well so it’s fair to assume we’re not in any danger of me becoming your stepmom,” your tone diminishes and she leans over to scold when The Joker passes by the opened door without bothering to peek inside your bedroom; you didn’t spot him but Emma did.

“I’ll be back!” she hisses and you’re confused at her desire to leave you.

“Hey, where are you going?”

She ignores your question and races after The King of Gotham, catching up with him at the end of the long corridor.

“Dad!” Emma shouts and he turns around.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?!” she interrogates the clueless Joker.

“I’m meeting Crane. Is he downstairs?”

“In his lab compounding the next batch of Cromyxillium for Y/N,” she fumes at J’s impertinence. “Didn’t you forget something?”

He seems puzzled and Emma is not tricked by his deceiving performance.

“My best friend is in her quarters, uncertain if she’ll survive the cancer treatment. Are you pretending she doesn’t exist?”

“Meaning?” The Joker sneers.

“I know you slept with her!” the accusation follows instantly. “Don’t deny it! How could you take advantage of her?!”

The Clown Prince of Crime straightens his shoulders, aware he can’t negotiate his innocence out of this complicated riddle.

“I did not take advantage of her! How dare you accuse me of such low move?”

“You didn’t?” Emma closes the gap between them. “You know she has a crush on you and she’s vulnerable; what type of man would prey on that?!”

J is not thrilled with the innuendos and cuts her off:

“She basically begged for some and I obliged out of pity!”

Emma slaps him and The Joker gasps, enraged she had the audacity:

“Do that again and I’ll neglect you’re my daughter!” he growls and the serious threat doesn’t faze her.

“Hurt her more and I’ll forget you’re my father! If you are indeed my father,” she emphasizes while stomping away towards the kitchen.

“I am your father!” J simmers at her impeccable strategy: Emma is retreating to a different corner of the house giving him the opportunity to choose.

Who the heck knows if she’s actually his?

One thing is undeniable though: they share the same despicable temper.

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

You discern The Joker in the doorway and your body stiffens; you stare at the TV screen wishing he’ll disappear.

“Where’s Crane?” J analyzes Y/N’s IV pole.

You don’t engage so his crankiness emerges.

“I suppose you didn’t flatlined yet!”

“Nope,” you grunt at the provocative declaration that served its goal: you did reply to The Clown’s rubbish.

“Where’s Crane?”

“I heard you the first time and I’m not sure why you focus your energy on a useless interrogation. You know where my father is!”

“Where?” The Joker’s vile attitude can’t compromise for less than instigating his fling.

“Please take your stuff that’s firm now but will get saggy in maximum 20 years and vanish!” the poisonous remark makes him groan.

“What stuff?!”

You check him out glaring at his mid-section before dismissing his presence.

“That’s the rudest fucking criticism ever!” The Joker barks and Y/N crabbily indicates:

“It���s not criticism, it’s reality! Gravity’s a bitch! Mara won’t mind, won’t she? After all, you two share a very special bond: on today, off tomorrow, hookup next week, take a break next month. Such dreamy relationship!”

“Do you have more derogatory references to my private life?!” J grinds his teeth ready to unleash several atrocities your way.

“No, too busy dying…” you show him the needle in your arm. “I don’t feel the pain from the medication burning my veins; I’m used with my sickness, with the ups and downs. What I do feel is the pain of being taken for granted.”

The Joker is not a fan of the insinuated context.  

“You said no strings attached!” he stresses the lack of commitment consented the previous evening.

“You’re the one that came to me; I thought it meant you were accepting to be the center of my universe.”

J ogles the ceiling of Y/N’s bedroom and assembles a couple of harsh disclosures in his brain when her entitled smirk halts the project.

“You’re buying it, aren’t you?” you chuckle at his astonishment. “I’m just messing with you Mister Joker; who in their right mind would make you the center of their universe?! You have 10 seconds to leave, otherwise I’ll scream and security will come!” you shelter your head with the quilt so you don’t have to see his mug anymore.

No outpour of vexation from his part which is cool: means he bailed.

The blanket is slowly pulled until your eyes emerge; J hovers your face, pissed at the unwelcomed clash.

“I’m checking if you kicked the bucket; corpses are usually covered thus my dilemma.”

“Go away!” you advise. “Or I’ll scream!”

You inhale preparing to yell: The Joker didn’t predict you’d defy him and he swiftly kisses you in order to stop the sounds.

The door is cracked and Emma witnesses the scene, reckoning bizarre elements:

Her father holds grudges and was mad at Y/N earlier due to whatever happened yesterday; nevertheless he still kissed her.

On the other hand, you were definitely miserable after your escapade, yet you didn’t reject him.

Emma may not be informed about the entire story, but one detail is crystal clear: the future is far from being simple.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

[iamleavingthisfandom]

maybe it's just me, but I haven't seen a lot of 40yo reddie soulmate AUs out there, and now I want to write them because of the tenderness potential. This one is written based on "You get a craving for whatever your soulmate is eating at the time" prompt. Rated T

He walks into the living room only to find Richie sitting on the couch eating fries. At 2:15 in the morning.

The smell fills his nostrils as he breathes deeply, taking in the aroma of grease and salt that spells out “heart attack by 50” in his mind. He can feel plaque forming in his arteries. And yet somehow it doesn’t matter in the slightest, because these specific fries are suddenly the most tempting thing in the world (except for, perhaps, kissing Richie senseless, but he won’t admit that to save his life). So with a sigh, he comes up to the couch, seeing Richie look up. “Move your ass,” he demands in a sleepy voice and sits down next to Richie (perhaps a bit too close), nudging his hip with his own and crowding against his side as he takes a fry out of the bag unceremoniously. “Eduardo, I’m shocked,” Richie puts a hand to his chest dramatically, and Eddie’s too tired to tell him to knock it off. “What about cholesterol and the risk of developing heart disease before the age of 55?” He knows Richie’s mocking his almost-daily lectures and he couldn't care less. To his credit, the lectures have gotten progressively rarer as he let go of more and more of his imagined ailments. “With all the heart attacks you give me daily, I won’t live that long,” Eddie grumbles with a grin, too tired to make much sense. He elbows Richie in the side a bit (intentionally) as he reaches for another fry. Richie just chuckles and lets him. So what if he’s craving fries at the same time as Richie? Fries have always been his weakness. That doesn’t mean anything. The fact that they spend the rest of the night talking because neither can bring themselves to stop the conversation doesn't mean anything either. *** Next time, it’s not quite as innocent. He’s about a block from the apartment they share with Richie (as a result of an utterly platonic offer from Richie whose reasoning was that they both needed someone near after the demonic clown affair) when he’s hit with the strongest craving for orange chicken. There’s nothing around him that smells remotely like orange or chicken, and the closest thing to food he can find is a huge billboard displaying waffles with syrup and whipped cream. He can’t quite get orange chicken off his mind the entire walk back to their place, but it doesn’t immediately click that the craving might have something to do with his soulmate. Having spent years without thinking about his soulmate or how unhealthy their eating habits are (which was a concern briefly before he got together with Myra and decided to ignore everything related to souls and mates – what kind of a person eats gummy bears and gummy bears exclusively like three days in a row for lunch) doesn’t really lend itself to immediate reworking, so excuse him. He has repressed these thoughts in favor of a loveless marriage for too long a time to easily jump to the conclusion that his cravings are related to his soulmate’s eating habits. As soon as he’s home, he’s about to pull up Postmates on his phone when it hits him: the strongest smell of spicy remotely orange-like substance smothered all over poultry. Just to confirm his suspicions, he takes off his shoes and makes his way to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. As he thought, Richie is sitting cross-legged at the table, his hair up in a messy bun as he scrolls through twitter, no doubt tracking news articles about his recent coming out (he says it doesn’t bother him, but Eddie knows it does). And what does he have if not a takeout box full of orange chicken? There’s another plastic box on the table and Eddie’s heart stupidly skips a beat when Richie looks up at him and smiles brightly. “Hey, Spaghetti! Got you your usual Beef with Broccoli,” Eddie stares at him, at both containers on the table and at the small boxes of rice before smiling softly to himself. He doesn’t know what he’s smiling about, really, but when Richie asks him about his day at work, looking like he’s actually excited to listen to him, he just feels like he’s where he’s supposed to be. *** From then on, he starts watching Richie for any signs of returned sentiment. It doesn’t necessarily mean soulmate status by itself, sure. But Eddie can’t get the idea out of his head, and he clings to anything that gives him hope, simultaneously refusing to hope too much. And oh, are there lots of things to give him hope. Richie doesn’t steal his food quite as much as Eddie does his, but he most certainly eyes whatever Eddie’s eating with interest every single time they eat together. Not that it’s all that out of the ordinary for people who live in such close quarters. What strikes him as particularly compelling is the time when Richie, who has an entire routine about kale being the Kyle of vegetables and just The Worst, steals a sip of his green kale smoothie one morning. He makes a face but doesn’t say anything, and Eddie doesn’t comment, mostly because the gears in his head are turning. Did he not realize it was kale? Can it be…? Are they…? When he looks at Richie to check if he suspects anything, he seems as oblivious as he is to Eddie’s constant urge to climb him like a goddamn tree. Figures. *** Mostly, all these times can be rationalized easily. They live in close proximity, so whenever one of them has a food so good the craving is basically infectious, the other can smell it. And no wonder they end up sharing it. Other times are more difficult to explain away without admitting the soulmate possibility, but Eddie manages. Kind of. They spend so much time together that in some ways they just sync. Not that he ever synced with Myra, but he and Richie have always just been like that. So yeah, they just... Sync. Like when they were talking about cryptids all night and suddenly both suggested watching The Mothman Prophecies. It makes perfect sense something similar would be true for food. So Eddie doesn’t pay the synchronicities much mind at all, even if there is always that voice in the back of his mind to remind him that yes, he has very much considered the possibility of them being soulmates and guess what? He would be more than fine with that. He would be pretty fucking ecstatic is what he would be. But he doesn’t fixate on that. No, it’s fine, and he just steals half the food off of Richie's plate every time they eat together. So what? It’s all par for the course. Except one time he's lounging in the living room, not doing anything in particular and definitely not reading Richie's twitter while laughing at his jokes. And that's when he feels it. An overwhelming craving for some black licorice. The trouble with that is, black licorice? Is fucking disgusting. He knows that. He can’t remember if he has ever craved licorice before, and if he has, it’s been a long while. So it makes no fucking sense, and he’s about to get annoyed when the door bursts open and Richie’s voice comes in, loud and chirping, and oh. Oh. He’s holding a wheel of black licorice with fresh teeth marks in it. Eddie’s off his phone and on his feet within seconds, crowding an unsuspecting Richie against the door, hands on the front of his shirt. He gets a nervous chuckle when he searches his eyes for that something that would suggest Richie wants him, too. He might be pretty damn sure they’re soulmates, he might be sick of waiting, but he’s not going to be an asshole and kiss Richie if he isn’t convinced Richie wouldn’t mind. “Whatcha doing there, Eds?” Richie asks, breathless. “Testing out a theory,” is his response, and he reaches up with his hand to stroke Richie’s cheek, watching him closely. Richie can’t seem to catch his breath, his eyes wide and wandering all over Eddie’s face. They settle on Eddie’s lips, Eddie knows this, and he watches Richie’s ones in return, slightly open, but not moving. Fuck it, he decides. He can’t wait any longer. With a swift movement, their lips clash. Is it as smooth as he always wanted his first kiss with his soulmate to be (if it ever happened)? Fuck no. It’s awkward and so far it isn’t anything but a press of lips. But it’s Richie and him and it’s so much better than he could ever hope for, and that’s all he has the time to think before Richie closes his lips over Eddie’s one with an almost desperate noise and wraps his arm around him. He makes a point not to deepen the kiss, because he doesn’t want to taste licorice on Richie’s tongue (except that he does. Desperately). When they break apart, which is sooner than Eddie would like, he moves his hands to the back of Richie’s neck and to his hair. “Licorice is fucking gross,” he breathes out lightly, making Richie laugh. “I’ll give up licorice for-fucking-ever if that means I can make out with you,” Richie responds, going to throw the wheel somewhere far away, but Eddie has caught onto the whole craving thing. He’s interested now. So instead, he snatches it out of Richie’s hand and takes a bite. It’s kind of gross, but that’s what led to them kissing, so he’s decidedly not going to complain. Plus, the kind of seems to grow on him with each second. He can get used to this. More so to kissing Richie than to licorice, but still. He takes his time chewing it with Richie watching him closely. “I think I can be persuaded to like it,” he smirks at Richie’s dumb grin. “And what can I do to persuade you, Eds?” he asks, playful, but with that undercurrent of ‘I’d do anything for you’ that Eddie isn’t going to unpack now (it makes him feel like crying happy overwhelmed tears). “Kiss me again.” Richie doesn’t need any more prompting and brings their lips together, pulling Eddie close and smiling into the kiss. It’s awkward for a few seconds, and then Eddie is prodding at Richie’s lips with his tongue, asking for more. Then the kiss tastes like licorice, but Eddie makes an internal assessment and finds out that Richie’s tongue against his and large hands on his back more than make up for it. Happy with this knowledge, he proceeds to make out with Richie for as long as he can justify, pressing him into the front door. All good things have to come to an end, though, and this does, too. They kind of do have to talk like adults, healthy communication and all that, but Eddie never really learned how. He tries anyway. “I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates,” is the first thing out of his mouth, and well… it’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing. Richie laughs in response. “Yeah, no shit.” “You knew?” Eddie is scandalized. About to call the intergalactic police or whatever the fuck Richie referenced that one time in his alien voice, roughly inspired by The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy. “Yeah, what else would have made you try cashews and find out you’re not actually allergic to them?” Richie is amused, but not that amused. The reveal isn’t a punchline here. It’s not a planned joke. “Why didn’t you say something?” “Didn’t think you’d want to kiss the trashmouth. What, with me eating licorice or salt and vinegar chips or something.” Richie’s delivery might be light and his amendment might make little sense, but it doesn’t sound like a joke. Eddie can’t help but cup his cheek, softer this time. He knows it’s not about food, but he also knows how Richie is with vulnerability (clue: not great). So he tries to reassure him, in a similar off-hand veiled way. “Rich, I’d kiss you even after you’ve been smoking.” “Really?” The speed at which Richie’s eyebrows shoot up is something truly out of this world. “Yeah, but only three times in your life, so choose wisely,” he grins and lets go of Richie’s neck, grabbing his hand instead. “Come on, soulmate,” he puts a teasing tone into the word, but can’t ignore how his heart flutters in the silliest, loveliest possible way. Richie’s smile suggests he feels like a dumb teenager, too, and that makes it all the better. Well, they have the rest of their lives to deal with that, and in the meantime, Eddie just wants to discuss what to call each other (“partner” seems like the most appropriate word, but he’s imagined calling Richie his “boyfriend” ever since he found out what the word means) and make out with his soulmate on the couch. The rest of the world can wait.

[dickd0c]

STRIKE

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — “day five, part one”

"Who's Lucas?"

Nic's eyes shot open. She turned her head to see Alpha standing by her side of the bed, looking down at her phone that was resting on the bedside table. She frowned and turned onto her side, grabbing her phone.

"Were you going through my phone?" she asked accusatively, sitting up as she rubbed her bleary eyes.

"No," Alpha shrugged, face stoney. "I was just checking the time and saw his notification. What was he doing texting you at 1:00 AM?"

"Why does it matter?" Nic replied, giving him an odd look. "He's a friend, that's all."

"If he's a friend, why are you getting defensive?" Alpha retorted, narrowing those cold eyes down at her. He then shook his head and straightened his back. "Know what? Never mind, you're right. It really doesn't matter. But get ready, Athena wants to talk to all of us."

Nic watched Alpha walk away before she pulled her phone out and swiped it open.

Lucas Received 1:17 AM you there?

Lucas Sent 9:06 AM hey :) how was your interview btw?

Nic waited a few moments, about to turn her phone off and get up when the three little dots at the bottom of the screen popped up.

Lucas Received 9:07 AM morning :)

Lucas Received 9:07 not bad, they didn't seem to mind that I smelled like coffee

Lucas Sent 9:08 AM good, I hope we get to work together then

Nic smiled and turned her phone off, hurrying to her room to get ready. She didn't waste time just basking in the shower like she normally would, but got right to work scrubbing her body and washing her hair. She got dressed in the usual lounge shorts and sweat pants, choosing not to put any product in her wet hair as she walked out her room and towards the living room where she assumed everyone else would be.

She walked in and saw Riot and Athena already sitting there, and she plopped herself down on the empty loveseat.

"So... what did you wanna talk about?" Nic asked Athena, cross her legs and getting comfortable.

"Let's wait for Tank," she responded, looking a little irritated, though not at anyone in particular.

Alpha walked over from the kitchen with a glass of water, nestling into a seat beside Riot as he raised the cup to his lips. "What's taking him so long?" he mused, eyes momentarily flicking to Nic.

"You know how he is about his hair," Riot said with an amused smile, leaning back into the sofa.

Nic frowned, a confused expression on her face. "But it always looks messy," she noted.

"Floppy," Tank corrected, sounding clearly offended. Nic turned her head to see him walking into the living room with a pout on his face, giving a glare to everyone else. "It's floppy, not messy, and it takes effort." He plopped down onto the loveseat beside Nic with a grunt, sighing as he leaned into it.

Nic rolled her eyes, which made him nudge her playfully.

Athena cleared her throat, catching everyone's attention. Nic saw the distressed look on her face and frowned, concerned.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" she asked, leaning forward a little.

Athena sighed, glancing away before looking back and making eye contact with Nic. "My parents are throwing a party," she said mournfully, as if she had told Nic that her grandmother had just passed away.

Next to Nic, Tank inhaled a sharp breath like a hiss. Riot reached over to pat a comforting hand on Athena's back. Even Alpha had something close to a sympathetic look on his statuesque face. Meanwhile, Nic was sitting there befuddled.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, sounding dumb as hell.

Tank leaned over to mumble in her ear. "They're not on good terms," he explained, using his hands while talking. "Her parents aren't the type of homophobic parents to disown her. No, they're still in denial. And they're still trying to send her to conversion therapy."

Nic scowled fiercely, as if she were scowling to Athena's parents themselves. "They sound absolutely shitty," she decided, softening her gaze when Athena looked at her.

"Yeah, um, they're making me come," Athena sighed, massaging her temples with her hands. "Well, not making me, but I have to go. It's their anniversary, you know? But I can't go alone..."

It took the rest a few moments to realize what Athena was asking for, and then the room was filled with "of course!" and "anything for you" and "we'll make sure you don't have to talk to them." Nic smiled as reassuringly as she could as she watched Riot pull Athena into a side hug.

Then something struck her.

"Wait," she said suddenly, turning to Tank as her mind was filled with memories of the first time she talked to the four of them. They had told her that they couldn't tell her their "real" names, and somehow, Nic hadn't questioned it (I usually hate when ppl interrupt the story with their notes......but I can't......someone let me know how I forgot to bring up the whole real name shit....please don't rip on Nic in the comments RIP ON ME LMAO).

"What?" Tank turned to her, eyebrow quirked.

"Did your parents... really name you guys Tank, Alpha, Athena, and Riot?" she asked, an incredulous expression on her face.

Tank grinned that lopsided grin, a bellowing laughter escaping from his mouth attracting the attention of the other three people in the room. He turned to them, wiping a tear with his thumb, and said, "She thinks these are our real names!"

Nic quickly scrambled for recovery, trying to talk over the amused comments flying at her, saying, "No! I'm just wondering what they really are!"

Athena, now grinning widely, choked out a response amidst her laughter. "These are not our real names, how thick would our parents have to be? Though Athena is my middle name, so that's where we got mine from."

"So you guys chose these nicknames?" Nic asked, frowning.

"Yeah," Riot nodded, "and they kinda stuck. So we use them as aliases in protests, and even with each other. "

Kinda like the Marauders, Nic thought to herself. She was a bit of a Harry Potter nerd back in middle school, having bought the entire book series. They were soft covers, not hard covers, so she wasn't that crazy (yes, I am talking about myself).

"So... what are your names?" she asked softly, tilting her head.

Tank stuck his hand out for her to shake, doing so firmly when she slipped hers into it. "Kaden Slater! You can call me Kade, though I prefer Slater. Or just Tank. Tank's good too."

Nic grinned, shaking her head a little.

"Ivy," Athena said with a distracted smile. "Ivy Athena Fischer. Everyone usually calls me Athena, except for my parents." A distasteful look came on her face, but she quickly shook it away.

"Miles Forrester, pleased to meet you," Riot said with a friendly wink, making Nic laugh softly. "Riot's a childhood nickname."

Alpha cleared his throat. "Damon. Damon Hale," he said gruffly, making Nic strain to hear him clearly.

Damon. She liked that name, it suited him.

"I can remember this," she said with an uneasy chuckle, earning her small chuckles from the others. "Slater, Ivy, Miles, and Damon," she said, pointing at each respective person. "So when's the party?"

"This weekend," Athena replied glumly, pulling her knees to her chin. "In three days, on Saturday. It's a thirty minute drive, forty-five with traffic."

"We'll be there the whole time," Riot said, rubbing her back.

"I know, I know—but so will they."

After a few more minutes of comforting Athena, they all disbanded to do whatever they needed to do. Athena ran to the grocery store, saying she needed to distract herself, but Nic could just tell that she was really heading to the mall. Tank went out to the gym, complaining about how Riot made him miss his workout the day before he kept asking him to play video games. Riot rolled his eyes and retreated into his room to do who knows what—maybe play more video games. Damon did the same, closing his door with an excessively loud slam that made Nic jump in her spot and roll her eyes.

Nic followed suit, going into her room and shutting the door far more gently. She tossed herself onto her bed, whipping her phone out of her pocket and looking at her text messages. She ignored all of them, except for Lucas's.

Lucas Received 9:10 AM same. I  wonder who the third could be

Lucas Sent 11:28 AM probably not the girl who stormed out crying

Lucas Received 12:29 AM 😂😂 no probably not

Lucas Received 11:29 AM hey Nic?

Lucas Sent 11:29 AM what's up?

Nic frowned at her phone when she didn't get a reply back for a minute, then two minutes, and then three minutes. She sighed, about to toss it to the other end of her bed, when it suddenly started ringing. She squinted then brightened up when she saw the name displayed. Immediately, she pressed the little green button and brought the phone up to her ear.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, eyes bright, and then immediately started wondering if she sounded too enthusiastic. Perhaps a simple "hello" would have been better.

"Nic!" Lucas immediately greeted back. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you," Nic responded. Lucas was silent on his end for a few seconds, and Nic facepalmed as quietly as she could. What did you expect , huh? "I'm good, thank you," you're about as interesting as drywall.

"Listen, I was wondering..."

Nic straightened up when Lucas's warm voice met her ear again. She coughed out, "Yeah?"

With closed eyes, she could imagine him rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you free this weekend? I thought maybe we could go out for coffee or something," he chuckled, sounding a bit nervous even through the phone.

Nic's mouth dropped, her eyes wide. She shook her legs in the air like a crazy person while racking her mind for the right thing to say.

"Uhh... hello?"

"Yes!" Too enthusiastic. She cleared her throat and sat up straight. "Yes, I am free, at least on Sunday. And I'd love to go out for coffee."

"Great! We'll probably know if we got the job by then. If we did, it'll be celebratory, if we didn't... let's turn coffee into drinks."

Nic laughed softly, rubbing her own neck with her hand. She was surprised to find her cheeks burning a little.

"I like your laugh," Lucas said quietly into the phone, making her cheeks tinge darker.

"Thank you," she said meekly, laying back down with her now-dried curly hair flailed around her head like the rays off the sun. "I like yours too."

"Nicy, I don't think I laughed." No, but he laughed while he was saying that, voice muffled by something that was probably his palm so he didn't embarrass her too much.

Nic paled, not even noticing the nickname, just completely horrified by her terrible brain-fart. "Oh..."

Lucas laughed again, clear and light-hearted, making Nic smile to herself shamefully. "Don't worry about it. I'll text you, we'll work the details out."

"Okay," Nic said, rubbing her hand on her forehead. "Have a great day," she said with a smile he could probably hear through the phone.

"You too, Nicy."

There was a click and the line disconnected. Nic hung up on her end, letting the phone fall out of her hand and beside her. She closed her eyes and smiled peacefully, thinking about Sunday when the door creaked open. She shot her head up and opened her eyes to see Alpha standing in her doorway with a quirked eyebrow.

"Who was that?" he asked, dragging his eyes up and down her body, eyes steely as ever. When they made eye contact again, Nic shivered. His jaw clenched before he spoke again. "Luke?"

Nic rolled her eyes. "Why do you care? And why were you eavesdropping?" she spat, sitting up with a huff and tugging the sleeves of her sweatshirt down to cover her hands.

"I wasn't," Alpha said with an annoyed huff, rolling his own eyes at her. "I was coming to ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me and heard you." His eyes looked a little offended, which was a new look on him.

"Oh," Nic said, eyes averting to the side awkwardly. She felt a little guilty, snapping at him like that, but he was clearly trying to provoke her.

"Whatever," Alpha said, his default smirk back on his face. "If you plan to keep that attitude you can keep taking to Luke. Maybe he'll cry on your shoulder. Find me if you wanna have some fun."

Nic threw a pillow at Alpha right as he ducked out of the doorway and closed the door, resulting with the pillow just hitting her door. She groaned in frustration, pummeling her fists against her mattress.

[hillnerd]

Hello hillnerd! I've read more than one of your interesting analysis, so I was wondering, if/when you'll have the time could you explain why/how Ron's character was mistreated by the movies? We all know what a terrible portrait of Ginny they've done, but I've always felt like they did a worst job with Harry than with Ron. Thank you very much, and if you've already spoken more deeply about, don't you worry about it ^^

Aw thanks so much! I’m glad you find my extra long rants interesting! ;)

So! Ron Weasley is my favorite character in the HP series. I found myself continually getting more and more disappointed with his portrayal as the movie series progressed, and have had lots to say on it over the years, but don’t believe I’ve ever had one semi-cohesive long post about it. Here we go, kids!

I have explored this when I went into classism and how it plays into Ron, and the Weasleys, portrayal in the films. This, I feel, is key to understanding how perverse the changes ended up being in the films. To me it’s not just about the character of Ron not being portrayed accurately, but rather an all-around disdain for poverty/working class people.

I won’t repeat what I said in my other essay- but please do read it to get a fuller picture of my issues with Ron’s portrayal. To sum it up, classist tropes of poor people being stupid, lazy, unloyal, and fearful is what Steve Kloves reduced the Weasleys to. 

I also am not a huge fan of the movies, so have not given many of them a lot of rewatches- nor will I for this- so it might get hard for me to remember all issues, and I’m sure I’ll miss a lot of them.

HOW RON WEASLEY WAS RUINED IN THE MOVIES:

When people watch the films they come away from them having some understanding of who the characters are in the books. Harry might come across as more serious in the movies- but his bravery, his dedication, his self-sacrifice, and even at times his sarcasm- are still there. Hermione and her whip-smart intelligence are not just present- they are upped to the point of ridiculous at times- they also went on to make her even more empathetic, friendly and kind than she was in the books (she’s more of a prickly little thing- but they portray her as this sensitive empathic character who never puts a step wrong in the movies… ) and made her more physically capable than in the books too. (punching malfoy, able to physically lift Harry into the air when being swung around on the whomping willow, dueling capabilities etc)

Then there is Ron. Most people come away thinking Ron is a coward, or stupid- at best they find him amusing. The movies seemed to go out of their way to wipe away all of Ron’s positive attributes and replace them with problematic behaviors that were completely antithetical to who Ron was, and even change scenes so that he did the exact opposite actions as well. They robbed him of almost every act of intelligence, kindness, wit, heart and bravery from the books. I’m fine with changes from the book as far as scenes- but I am not ok with them completely altering his character to make him selfish, unkind, cowardly, stupid etc. The movies didn’t just ruin Ron Weasley in them- they created a legacy of suck. I mean, that’s why  there are video essays titled ‘is Ron useless’ on youtube where they have to do a breakdown of the character, in the newest HP phone game Ron isn’t featured like Harry and Hermione and is worth less points, in the play he’s portrayed as a dingus who can’t point a wand in the right direction… People fundamentally don’t know Ron, and that’s due to the movies (and their influence - even on how people interpret his character when they read the books, imo.)

Let’s get into it though!

This started with the first film:

the one film that was truest to who Ron was in the books.

The Devil’s Snare

Let’s compare the scenes:

Now, they had to cut one of Hermione’s feats in order to streamline the journey to the stone. The riddle with the potions would be a lot harder to make interesting in film, so having her shining moment be the Devil’s Snare makes absolute sense. 

As it was her one moment of glory, it also made sense for her to get to stay calm. I can’t begrudge that change.

What I DO have issue is, Kloves decided to sacrifice Ron’s character in order to bolster Hermione. He made Ron become completely irrational and panicky, while cool calm Harry and Hermione looked on with amusement and derision. 

He could have easily had both the boys unable to keep from wiggling- or had Hermione just crawl off in time like in the book- but no. 

This was the beginning of a pattern we continue to see throughout the movies.

They kept feeding the notion that in order to make Harry and Hermione looks cool’/brave- they needed to have Ron cowering beside them- when that is the exact opposite of who he is as a character. 

We also have another moment earlier in the book/film that undercuts Ron in order to bolster Harry.

_________________________________________________

Their first quidditch lesson:

BOOK

MOVIE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ix0BhYSZBg

Ron’s been flying a broom since he was a kid. Yet he’s struggling to get the broom to go up while most of the class succeeds, and then it strikes him in the face? Really? Neville is already about to have an accident with the broom and made a lot more sense for this piece of physical comedy- but they did it to Ron… 

In this film it’s not that big of a deal- after all he has loads of great moments- but it goes to show that Kloves doesn’t understand Ron’s role in the series for Harry- beyond being his best friend, he’s also a knowledgeable guide to the wizarding world. They almost completely remove this from Ron, and give almost all exposition to Hermione or Hagrid. Ron’s essential function is removed. This is just a tiny example. It gets worse as the films continue.

   ————————————————————————————————

THE TROLL

In the book he is very capable and is able to do Wingardium Leviosa to save Hermione WITHOUT her coaching him in the bathroom. But he can’t have his moment without Hermione teaching him in the movie

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IbxMy9T49fM

    ————————————————————————————————

Chamber of Secrets

This is it. The film where Ron is firmly established as a coward.

He is moaning, squeeking, shaking, crying, and all around acting a total miserable coward in scene after scene. Again this is the exact opposite of who Ron is as person. In the books he’s this fiery tempered guy who is ready to first fight/duel any ahole who crosses his path- but in the movies, he’s this:

FOLLOW THE SPIDERS

In the books he never is falling apart like that, even when facing the spiders- his biggest fear. (He is literally phobic of them, but this is now shown in the films.) Harry is stoic, to the point of ridiculously stoic, during these moments- while Ron practically crying. Now I’m fine with Ron being show afraid in this particular scene- my issue is how it’s played for comedy, how they add in moments of ‘now can we panic,’ and have Harry show about as much emotion as a door knob the whole scene.  

If this were the one scene where Ron acts like this, hey I’d let it pass.

Nope. It’s become his entire personality. He is in the same state CONSTANTLY in this film. Dignity? Ron does’t get to have a moment of that. He’s constantly making this face:

When in the car, when near his mum, when being yelled at by the howler, when being yelled at by moaning myrtle, when Harry is injured etc.

If his excessive fear weren’t the only big problem that’d be one thing- but no.

He is also striped of his purpose in being a guide to the wIzarding world.

—————————————-

MUDBLOOD AND SLUGS

When Hermione is called a Mudblood in the books she has no clue what that means. Ron is the one who, rather eloquently, explains it.

This is instead given to Hagrid and Hermione. While Ron pitifully barfs int he corner only able to add a feeble ‘it’s sickening’ for laughs.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xpj3krxJtNU

——————————————————————-

PRISONER OF AZKABAN

They continue to make Ron a coward, but also erode his friendship with Harry and Hermione, and make him ‘irresponsible’ on top of it.

INSUFFERABLE KNOW-IT-ALL

Ron gets detention from Snape for defending Hermione against him.

In the films he agrees with Snape’s bullying comment

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjxZyljxrxE

——-

SCABBERS

Ron’s concern about Scabber’s health is made into a one-off sort of joke in the films, and for some reason a narrative of ‘Ron keeps losing Scabbers and is an irresponsible pet owner’ is established in the films. 

Molly has to chase him with Scabbers and shouts ‘DON’T LOSE HIM!’ and then later the cat/rat fight is reduced to a ‘Ron’s lost Scabbers’ instead of it being a clear case of ‘the rat is dead, most liekyl because of her cat.’

Again we see Ron being shown as inferior (dumb ron unable to keep up with pets), while Hermione is built up ad able to talk down to Ron. (Ronald has lost him again!) (Also, anyone else HATE that they did this with the Ronald bit with Hermione and Ron?) Even Hagrid condescends to Ron when he finds the rat (and Hagrid is shown as quite clueless, but apparently not as clueless as Ron now….)

——-

There’s a moment added to the films where Harry goes to return the crystal ball to Trelawney and asks if Ron wants to come with him— Ron, a bit rudely, says no. This was used as a way to get Harry alone with Trelawney for the professor to give her prophecy- but why did they have to do it at the expense of Ron?

—————

THE SHRIEKING SHACK

Ron on multiple occassions in the book goes out of his way to attempt to save Harry. ALL of these are cut.

Ron literally put himself between Harry and danger. Instead in the films he’s stupidly sitting beside the whomping willow,

 then he’s  just screaming, terrified, as he’s dragged away.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lhi1bOuIj0E

Then Ron, with a severely broken leg, stands on it to confront a murderer while Hermione scaredly whispering.

Instead they give this line to HERMIONE, while Ron incoherently whimpers on the ground like a coward. 

They knew Hermione had a TON of ‘moments’ in this film already- why did they need to give one of Ron’s ONLY moments to her???????? She had just punched Malfoy (instead of slapped him), literally had the strength of a grown weight lifter to lift Harry by the shirt into the air as they fought the whomping willow and will go on to the have the time adventure… yet, here we are- She has this line as well.

Ron is robbed of every ounce of dignity and gumption and self-actualization he HAS.

————————

Then at the end of the time adventure they have Harry and Hermione laughing at Ron as he, again, incoherently babbles and makes this face.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OavYqCjM45k

Oh ahahah! It’s DUMB OLD RON! XD

Everything valuable he brings to his friendship with Harry and Hermione is cut- and replaced with this garbage.

—————————————————————————————————-

GOBLET OF FIRE

Again all nuance for Ron’s character is lost- and he’s demonized while Harry and Hermione are lifted up. They also, throughout the movies, have done a pretty crap job of showing Ron’s place in the wizarding world when it comes to wealth and when it comes to how he’s treated and what he goes through. His lack of money is treated as a joke with his robes, and in general is not taken seriously beyond a a few Lucius is a bad guy scenes and the first movie.

HARRY AND RON’S FIGHT

In the books Ron and Harry’s fight leaves Harry devastated- and Ron’s behavior doesn’t come out of nowhere either. They establish that Harry and He had an agreement to go into the tourney  together if they could- but it looks like Harry did it without him. [the post by @owlpostagain does a brilliant analysis of it]

Ron does not come into their fight angry- in fact he’s trying (And failing) to be positive for Harry.

Ron brings NO ANGER to this exchange. HARRY DOES, though:

In the books Harry isn’t reasonable when he tries to explain this to Ron- he’s angry and insults Ron. Of course in the films, they make Harry ever so reasonable and Ron just a moody whiny asshole who is purely angry and spiteful in this exchange.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=an7WWOY94Qs

The utter misery Harry experiences while he and Ron are on the outs is cut (I mean, at this point, why would he be miserable? Ron is a pretty awful friend in the films.) Best explored in a post I can’t find now- just go and reread how miserable Harry is. (eta: FOUND THE POST!!! Thanks @vivithefolle​!)

[This post] by @purpleklimt​  PERFECTLY sums up all the part in GOF where Harry is desperately missing Ron

He then goes on to attack Ron a SECOND time in the books

They leave out Harry’s part in this fight- and make it solely Ron’s fault in the films.

When they make up in the books Harry is SO relieved he won’t even let Ron apologize. He starts off cold- but immediately turns it around with relief.

But in the movie he’s angry and condescending to Ron (after having a SUPER out of character ‘everyone look at me, who wants me to open the egg!!!’ scene) and continues acting so AFTER they’ve ‘made up’? It’s not a happy reunion. And Ron is acting… really stupid :P For no reason

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9s_dukNgLPg

————-

TRAINING

Ron goes on to help Harry train for the next task in the books, letting him practice hexes on him. Ron does nothing at all to help Harry in the films. Literally nothing.

———

YULE BRAWL

Again Ron is shown as angry- but they have to up the ante don’t they- where he literally makes Hermione have a breakdown in tears saying he’s ‘ruined everything’- when she had a great time at the ball in the books :P

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bynhxDUqqgU

Where as in the books they are having a fight of equals:

————-

They also add in a lot of scenes where Hermione is like, a rock for Harry emotionally (which she has never been in the books at all. The closest was in book 7 at the graveyard at xmas.)

————————————————————————————

ORDER OF THE PHOENIX

This is the ONLY movie after the 1st one to show Ron’s true friendship for Harry.

It’s not a coincidence that it’s the only film NOT written by Kloves. Here he is defending Harry.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktfsgXyRbuc

Ron is a bit of a non-entity in this movie in general, but he’s a good supportive friend, and even has his cleverness pointed out

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_p6j28GC3A

I guess they had to when they cut out him being prefect :P

They do a minor bit of Hermione getting Ron’s lines when Harry meets up with them at Grimauld place:

Ron: We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on. We did, mate. But he’s really busy now, we’ve only seen him twice since we came here and he didn’t have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted.

Movie:

Harry: You couldn’t have put this in a letter, I suppose. I’ve gone all summer without a scrap of news.Ron: We wanted to tell you, mate. Really, we did. Only –Hermione: Only Dumbledore made us swear that we wouldn’t tell you anything.

But it’s not the worst infraction. It does cut into Ron and Harry’s bond though in order to bolster Harry and Hermione’s. :P

————————————————————-

HALF-BLOOD PRINCE

Steve Kloves is back- and he seems determined to undermine Harry and Ron’s friendship, bolster Harry and Hermione’s, and generally cut out anything but buffoonery from Ron’s stories.

He has Ron kissing Lavender for seemingly no reason, has Ron looking like a moron as he does quidditch (The helmet… ) and just in general doesn’t give Ron any dignity.

When Ron is poisoned- a VERY SERIOUS incident- Ron immediately goes from dying to sitting up to make a joke.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nK3K8XmZX3Q

The MOST EGREGIOUS one, though, is THE ENDING OF THE MOVIE

First let’s look at what we find in the books

They are a TRIO- Ron and Hermione are equally supporting him- but as usual Ron has the most lines of verbal support in the book- because that’s his role as Harry’s BEST FRIEND.

In the film… I mean… LOOK AT IT! 

Ron is COMPLETELY SILENT. And seated about 20 feet away from them as the ‘grownups’ talk and Hermione pledges her ever loving support to Harry, while Ron, again, IS SILENT! FOR THREE MINUTES!

WTF

I JUST…. WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?!!!?!?

—————————————————————————-

DEATHLY HALLOWS

Ron is actually portrayed ok at times here- They are ALL OVER the place with Ron’s characterization though, and do LITTLE to show the sacrifices he’s making leading up to their journey (and don’t support that narrative much later either.)

At times a bumblerhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hiTgShhO-JM

But is finally allowed to hold his own when things get serious- but shows a weird sort of serial killer-esque darkness as he confronts the frozen deatheater.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sk5I27gTOj0

Again they make him an idiot at the ministryhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxgGMs3tezw

But Ron’s injury for once is treated seriously. :) (no sitting up to make a joke!)https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lvpgvg_0neQ

The locket scene they do NOT honor Ron’s character, and have him become incredibly cruel compared to how he was in the bookhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZi_9E3ULwI

Again they do what they’ve done with ALL the fights based around Ron  (note how they CUT all of Harry&Hermione’s fall-outs?) they make Ron completely randomly unreasonable- and bolster Harry’s perspective as just misunderstood and not at all out of control angry

Don’t get me wrong, Ron was horrid when he was essentially possessed by the locket- but he NEVER went to the low blows Ron of the films did.

They go on in the film to show that without Ron, Harry and Hermione are fine. They are dancing and having a good time without him. And why wouldn’t they? He’s never been the rock of support and common sense he was in the books.

In the books they are hopeless without Ron. Miserable without him. that’s why when he’s back it’s a BIG deal                      _________________________________________________

♪REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD♪  meh

When reunited, Harry and Ron don’t have a particularly close bond- They destroy theh horcrux- and Ron’s emotional reaction of sobbing after his worst fears are out is cut- because of course all Ron-humanity is cut- and then his bond with Harry where they embrace and Harry comforts him is also cut- because only Harry & Hermione are actually close in these movies….

Movie version:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1XUfFnmflU

The clip cuts off but after

All that, and all they say is:

‘Just think, there are only three to go.’

Oh ok! No Ron explaining things, no Harry and Ron bonding- Ron’s not a good friend anyways, right?

Augh.

Where Ron comes in saving the day and bringing them tons of knowledge (the taboo, snatchers, potter watch) film Ron comes back bringing nothing (because Ron in the films NEVER is smart or bringing anything to the table. The TWO TIMES in the WHOLE FILM SERIES he does, it’s commented on like ‘wtf?!’ from Hermione….), and his presence doesn’t seem to particularly change anything for Harry and Hermione either. They were fine without him and Hermione is laughing and smiling LESS with Ron around, so is Harry.

Anyways! Then there is Hermione’s torture. Ron in the books is going mad with grief for her- He on MULTIPLE OCCASSIONS defends her and even says for them to take him instead. in the movies he reacts with a worried look and silence, then when he’s down in the basement seems less worried about Hermione than he was about anything in all those other movies he was freaking out in:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twHLFlqZ8T8

Look at how sedate he is. Jesus.

In the books he’s shouting her name and desperate for her.

But in the movies… BLECH

At least they still let him save her. (I’m surprised they let that stay.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2zNRrOXbPY

————————————————-

I only saw Deathly Hallows part 2 when it first came out- and haven’t seen it since because i really didn’t like it. The final fight sequence sucks so hard :P

But anyways- what I remember- Ron essentially does nothing and contributes nothing until he gets him and Hermione into the chamber of secrets and they randomly kiss.

ROOM OF REQUIREMENT

He is portrayed as plain old SILLY in the Room of Requirement:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZiGbypAnFU

————————————————-

MY FRIEND IS ABOUT TO GO DIE.

He gives a lame ‘what? Are you mad’ then as Harry goes off to die, Hermione gives Harry a big old hug- (neither character would let Harry do this- but Ron just STANDING there??? THE FUCK?) and Ron just stand there silently. Again, why is kloves so afraid of having these boys touch? Show affection????? (honestly I think all the times Ron shows anything like friendship in the films it’s usually silent moments that are improvised by Rupert.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rg1LLVWZyg8

Like you’re telling me THIS BOY

Is gonna just stand there while Harry goes to die???

——————————

And then hermione almost seems embarrassed to be interested in him

——————————

19 YEARS LATER

Then in the final scene of the book, where Ron had tons of lines (the most besides Harry and Albus) he’s just this potbellied silent dude.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pEKA6rmVfW8

Like…. I can’t.

I HATE what the movies did to Ron. (don’t get me STARTED on Ginny.)

At every place they could they silenced him, took away his moments, made him a buffoon, made him a coward, made him a rotten friend, removed all his best traits- and left him to be mostly… THIS

He’s a selfish cowardly lump who is just around to keep the AUDIENCE entertained. Honestly you could cut Ron from the movie series and almost nothing would have to be changed- that’s how little they let him inform the narrative.