#by the way when I say trio I mean three people in a shot not all of them are actual friend or partner trios🙃

[yaut-jaknowit]

This is my very first ask here and, tbh, ever since I read “Not A Bad Sight” I fell in love with the bad blood trio (Mai’tuiudh, A’jiadh, and Zaikeh) and I wanted to know more about them. Before meeting us, the reader, how did they meet? First impressions, and how do they usually get along? I’d like to know more about their relationship!

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Those We Meet

Pairings: Mai’tuiudh (Male), A’jiadh (Male), and Zaikeh (Female) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 954 (Sorryyyyy)

Summary: This is just a bit of ranting and a jumble mess. I wanted to touch on every topic you asked for.

Author Note: Welcome to the party! Since the ask was pretty broad, I went broad as well. I touched on everything but had gone a shorter way about it. If you want a more in-depth one-shot, let me know! Don't be afraid to ask more. I love to write.

Masterlist

Ao3

For this, I’m just going to do some short story building and rant from there.

Their story started off as three bad bloods who took roost on earth. It’s a hot spot for Yautja traffic. Yet, keep your friends close and enemies closer. They used the earth’s atmosphere and population to stay undetected for years. They became a master of disuse in plain sight.

When an enforcer, elder, and enforcer-in-training was hot in their trails, they had to flee. Dai’stbaen, the enforcer, was nearly killed in the process. This forces the other trio to hold back and reevaluated their plan of attack. Mai, Jade, and Zai are all able to rush off and jump ship. Off to the stars they go, free from the hunters.

As for their meeting, it was nothing special. Reader didn’t save them nor did they save you. Their ship was desperate need for repairs. Mai’tuiudh could pay well. The first sight of them gave you the chills. Nothing about them looked right… but the credits paid the same. The heaviness of your pocket was a nice change.

It happened right before the shop closed. It was just you and another mechanic that liked to stay late as well. Before either of you could close up shop for the night, three Yautjas strutted in. A species that was reserved, rarely seen was now standing in the middle of the shop’s lobby. A game of rock, paper, scissors told you, you had lost. You had to be the one to greet them with a fake smile and ask if they would like to set up an appointment.

A heavy bag of credits was set down on the counter. You had lost your tongue. Mai’tuiudh, the navy blue leader, manipulated you easily to work on their heavily damaged ship. You took up the job. The credits was too hard to pass up on. That could pay for the craft you’ve been eyeing for awhile.

People may have a good moral compass. Not around here. It’s either kill or be killed. That night, you’d rather not piss off a trio of Yautjas by deny them service. With the money sitting right in front of you, you took up the job.

The vessel was pulled into the shop.

It wasn’t anything pretty or amazing by any means. Yet, to have the ability to work on a Yautja craft was beyond anything. It was luck or the end for anyone to see them. The species as a whole was reclusive. You were excited to tear into something so rare.

The sight of the thing was astonishing. Not because of what it was but the shape it was in. Whoever they are had just dealt with an extensive fight and somehow won in this thing. As much as you wanted to argue with them. For them, it would’ve been better to get a whole new ship instead of wasting this kind of money on it. You had to bite your tongue and look the other way. They were paying handsomely and the opportunity to work on a Yautja ship was too hard to pass up.

First imressions on their side wasn’t anything special. But, here you are, looking at three Yautjas. Ones who’ve seen better days by the wounds they nursed.

For them, they just say a small ooman who took up the mantle. When it came down to you finishing the job, that’s a whole different story.

It took two whole days for everything to be back into a normal shape and working order. From the amount of time and quality of the work, they knew there was no other mechanic they would go to. Your pockets would be filled generously. Both to keep your mouth shut and to keep you on their side. If they came in – usually without an appointment – they would get service immediately.

Money talks.

The relationship between them is interesting.

Before they practically kidnapped you, they had kept it semi-professional. At least in your eyes. To the human eye, nothing was wrong or different. But, too anyone who saw into it deeper or let alone the could smell. They had you heavily scent marked. No one who was smart would get close to you within a fifty foot range. Not that you noticed nor minded. A few of the other mechanics that annoyed you stayed away.

All of them had you marked the second time they saw you. It was nearly instant about their agreement to having you as theirs. That was one of the few things they came to an agreement easily on. The sight of you.

From there, they would always, always bring their vessel to you. Even if it was limping on the way back. There would be no other hands to touch their spacecraft.

On an average day after your near kidnapping, all of them pamper you to death. It’s more in Mai and Jade’s nature rather than Zai’s. But, she won’t let anything hurt you. You are the most safe creature that has ever lived.

There are days when trouble does arrive. They are thankful to have someone like you to save them from death and despair. You can squeeze into places none of them could. Your talent and skill comes to the rescue when the hyperdrives decide not work in the middle of a chase. That time… it was you guys being chased down. It took a little finesse and dangerous bypassing to jump the hell away from there. At least, it’s a story you could tell about while sitting either in the cockpit or the common area.

It's a strange bunch you got roped into but it’s a life you won’t trade for.

[ecargmura]

Dandadan Episode 9 Review - Aliens And Nessie

TW: Nudity

I think ‘unhinged’ is the best word to describe Dandadan, especially with this episode. It’s a very wacky episode that involves a lot of Okarun butt shots, a cluster of enemies, and a lot of yellow and green filters (The green filter hurts my eyes). It’s crazy how we went from heartwrenching backstories to chaotic alien fights in a span of two episodes.

It was cool seeing what Aira can do now that she can transform using Acrobatic Silky’s powers. She’s flexible and agile. I love how she moves in battle and that she also uses her hair as a weapon in addition to her added flexibility. However, I do think that her biggest weakness is the fact that she lacks fighting experience. Okarun and Momo are able to fight easily as they’ve got so much experience, but this is Aira’s first fight against a paranormal creature, so she does get clobbered often. However, her debut fight is against multiple enemies rather than a singular one like before.

The fight with the enemies is very crazy. The Serpoians felt as if they got stronger. However, since they have a weakness in that they cannot fight when using their powers, that’s where their new hire, Mantis Shrimp (Is that his name?) comes in. I do like that the fights are a mix between serious and comedic without being too out of place and off-putting. The Mantis Shrimp alien is silly, but his punches are brutal. It was interesting that he also had a more grotesque form underneath, like the Serpoians. Though, can someone help me answer this question I have? During the part where Nessie arrived, did the Serpoian and Mantis Shrimp alien fuse with Nessie? If so, then Nessie was heavily underutilized as a villain as it got no character other than being a creature that fires green laser beams.

Now that the group is a trio, their dynamics became a lot more livelier and funnier. Momo and Aira have an antagonistic, vitriolic relationship with each other with the two getting on each other’s nerves. While Momo and Okarun bicker, they have a solid trust towards each other. I love how these two communicate in that Okarun wants to talk to Momo about the misunderstanding with Aira. These two trust each other to the point that Momo can use Okarun as some sort of jet ski. Okarun isn’t that tall, yet he can still have two girls around the same height on him.

I honestly love the animation for this fight, especially towards the end where the aliens fuse with Nessie. The way the camera angle rotates and spins was really good. I also liked the animation at the final bit where the gang return to the real world but naked. The way they ran is reminiscent of the floppy animated style from the first episode, which amps up the comedic aspect of it. Aira running like a Titan in Attack on Titan was hilarious (also hilarious given that her VA Ayane Sakura and Okarun’s VA Natsuki Hanae were in that show as Gaby and Falco)

Speaking of which, I remember that there was an outrage regarding the final scene because one Anituber posted a picture of the scene in the manga when the anime first aired with the intent of being anticipated for how people, fans and anime-only viewers, would few the scene, but it went viral for negative reasons, which led to the anituber getting doxxed. I didn’t think too much of that panel at the time since I’m already used to crude shounen humor, but doxxing someone over manga panels is never an okay thing to do. When I looked at this scene in the anime, I just thought “very shounen humor” and that was it. I think the outrage was mainly due to how sensitive people are towards media these days. All I can say on the matter is that I hope that humanity can change back into the days where people could differentiate fiction from reality.

Since there are twelve episodes, this means that there are three more episodes left. I wonder what’s left for the rest of the story. I think the red-haired boy has yet to show up, so I assume the last few episodes will revolve around him? I’m also curious about the event so fate next episode as a cow gets abducted by a UFO. What are your thoughts on the episode as a whole?

[gejo333]

Too Hot To Handle

Miguel x Spider-Woman Reader

18+ Warning!

Summary: It’s unbelievably hot at Spider HQ. You decided to wear something more breathable, which earned the attention of many Spiders. However, your choice of clothing bothers Miguel in more ways than one.

I just wanted to say thank you to all the likes, comments and reblogs. It means the world to me!! 💕💕💕

Hope you enjoy the one-shot😉

WC: 1.4k

____________________________________________

Nueva York’s torturous summer heat blazed across Spider HQ. It was the hottest day of the year, and every spider knew it.

The fabric of your spider suit clung to your already sweaty and hot skin. Usually, the suit was supposed to be breathable. How would you be able to wear this suit all day? It’s not possible. Not with the air conditioner out of commission.

“Lyla.” You breathed out. Even talking was taking up too much of your energy.

“Yes, y/n?” The small figure appeared, clicking away on her phone.

“What’s going on with the air conditioner? When can you get it fixed?”

“It’s been overworked the past week, so it overheated. I can get it fixed in a couple of hours.” She responded; a groan of frustration left your lips.

The thought of being in your suit for five minutes, alone for the next few hours, felt excruciating. You briefly thought about going to nag Miguel about fixing it himself. But you would have to walk across HQ to his office. You lifted your watch, pressing a few buttons to call the grumpy spider.

“What, Y/n?”

“Wow, I’m surprised you answered.”

“Stop wasting my time. I’m busy. What is it?” The irritation in his voice was clear, which only widened your smile.

“Can you fix the air conditioner?”

“Lyla has it handled.”

“It’s too hot to wait. Aren’t you hot under your suit?” You whined.

“No, my suit is breathable. Now stop whining. Goodbye.” He paused for a moment before speaking.

“Miguel I..” The beeping sound indicated he hung up on you.

“Bastard. Fine, I’ll figure out how to cool myself down.” Pressing a few buttons, an orange portal opened up next to you. Before entering, a hand was placed on your shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Jess asked.

“I’ll be back. I’m just going to change into something more comfortable.”

…

Getting out of your suit, you hopped into the shower. The ice-cold water sizzled against your warm skin. After the shower and drying off, you grabbed a pair of jean shorts and a spaghetti tank crop top. You looked in the mirror. Your shorts barely cover your cheeks, as you can see them sticking out slightly. Oh well, you thought. I look good, so it shouldn’t matter.

Pressing a few buttons on your watch, you go back through the orange portal to HQ.

…

The ice melted on Gwen’s forehead mere seconds after she put it there. She looked over at Hobie and Pavitr, lying on the floor like her to escape the heat wave.

“I can’t take any more of this heat.” Whined Pavitr.

“Same here, mate.” Replied Hobie.

“How much longer?” Gwen asked.

“Still a couple of hours.” The trio looked at the additional voice. All three went wide-eyed when they saw you. But more specifically, your outfit.

“Damn, Y/n, looking pretty good there,” said Hobie.

“Your sweet Hobie.” Your cheeks reddened slightly from his comment.

“Y/n, do you know when Lyla will have it fixed?” Asked Pavitr.

“Sadly not, but I’m going to march into Miguel’s office and demand he fix it.”

Walking towards Miguel’s office, you saw spider people checking you out while some spiders whistled or threw compliments your way. But you just smiled and continued on your way. You entered his office, walking till you went to the platform where the large figure stood, watching the various screens.

“Miguel! It’s too hot! You need to fix the air conditioner.” You shoot up to the platform with your web, landing a few feet behind him.

“Like I said, Lyla will…fix it.” Miguel turned towards you but paused his comment as he looked at your outfit. His gaze scanned your body from your thighs, the way your hips and ass looked in those jeans, and your hourglass figure to your gorgeous e/c eyes. His gaze made your cheeks flush.

“You changed out of your suit.” He slowly walked towards you.

“Yeah, I was too hot in it. So I changed.” You turned away from him, looking at the orange screens, pretending to look for anomalies. His arms snaked around your waist, his breath hot on your neck. Your breath hitch in your throat as you feel his lips brush against your ear.

“Your outfit is too revealing. No one is allowed to see you with barely any clothes on but me.” He whispered in your ear. You turned around, trapped between him and his desk. His fingers hooked around the rings of your jeans, pulling you against him. Your arms snaked around his neck.

“What, you don’t like that other people see my figure? Last time I checked, I don’t belong to you.” A smirk graced your lips as you knew you pulled a trigger. His possessiveness of you. His dark copper-brown eyes narrowed as he turned you around and bent you over his desk. He leaned over, his lips once again near your ear.

“Do I need to remind you who you belong to?” His crotch was right against your ass. You let out a groan, feeling his clothed boner against you.

“Maybe I do.” You breathed out.

“Good girl.” He pulled down your shorts, along with your panties. You gasp as you feel one of his fingers enter your wet folds. “Already so wet for me. I’ve barely touched you.”

“It’s from t-the h-heat.” You felt a second finger enter you as he began a steady pace. His fangs grazed the skin of your neck before biting down. A moan escaped from your lips as he bit down. He made sure not to inject his venom as he let go, licking up the drop or two of blood flowing down your neck. The constant thrusting of his fingers started to build the knot in your stomach. You slowly moved your hand to your clit as you began to touch yourself. Miguel snatched your wrist and bent it behind your back.

“Trying to touch yourself, mi amor? Not on my watch.”

“Miggy, please.” He let go of your arm, but instead of your hand, he used his to finish you off.

“Cum for me.” You arched your back a few seconds after his words, finally feeling your climax. You felt him remove his fingers as you turned your head to watch as he slowly put them in his mouth, licking them clean. ‘You taste as amazing as always, y/n.”

His suit disappears, showing his full self as you see his cock pop out. You were always dumbfounded by how he could fit everything inside you. Honestly, you could care less because it felt so good when he shoved inside of you.

“Beg for it.” He growled in your ear as the tip of his member poked at your entrance.

“Please, fuck me.”

“As you wish, Princesa.” He slowly thrusts his member until he is fully inside you. A grunt leaves his mouth as you clench around him. “Fuck, you’re always so tight.” He removes his cock completely before slamming it back in as he thrusts into you rigorously.

“Miguel!” You feel him lean over, his chest against your back. The summer heat, combined with the hot sex, was making the build-up even more pleasurable. He placed kisses along your neck, every so often leaving marks with his fangs.

“If you keep clenching around me like that, I won’t be able to last.”

“I’m going to-ughh!” Words were hard to say as he continued to slam into you. For the second time, you reached your climax.

“ I’m going to put a baby in you. Will you let me put a baby in you, mi amor?”

“Yes! Put a baby in me Miggy.” His claws dug deeper into your waist as he spilled deep inside you. He kissed your shoulder as he removed himself from you. You stand up from your position and turn around.

Miguel sits on his chair, sweating in all his naked glory from the heat after slamming his cock deep into you. Thighs meet thighs as you sit on his lap, guiding his half-hardened cock back inside your cum-leaking pussy. The sight of your sweaty body on top of his. The way the sweat on your breasts glistens perfectly in the light brings his cock back to life. A groan fall from your lips as you feel him come back to his full size inside you. You wrap your arms around his neck as you move your hips.

“I think you need to tell me again who I belong to.”

____________________________________________

Chapter Two of “El Destino” will come out tomorrow!💕💕💕

[imaginatorcreates]

Nimbasa Trio! Soul Resonance!

25 July 2024 — 30 July 2024

Summary: Lord Death calls upon the Nimbasa Trio to deliver a pep talk / demonstration to the students of DWMA. Along the way, Elesa (meister) reminiscences on how the three of them deviated from the standard path of fighting evil. Oh, and there's a Kishin egg somewhere in the mix, but the pep talk was more important.

Word Count: ~3.9k words

Author’s Note: Listen. Soul Eater gripped me back when I watched it years ago. It was only a matter of time before I started writing a Soul Eater inspired thing.

Important!: Please keep in mind that my knowledge on Pokemon is close to zero. I'm mostly here because of the Submas Twins. Most knowledge comes from Detective Pikachu (which I should rewatch), absorption of basic terms via mild osmosis (TY to my close friend of over a decade), Discord friends, and infodumps to my Tumblr inbox. Feel free to expand my knowledge though!

Also on AO3

(notes may differ between Tumblr and AO3)

Elesa was fully aware that she was an only child. She had always had all the attention of her parents, may that be separately or joint force. She had learned to share via her classmates, and her house had been devoid of other kids around her age unless playdates had been approved by everyone’s parents.

She had been praised to be pretty from a young age, having components of her parents that people have always said mashed well together. She had been praised about how strong and friendly her soul was, one that would easily resonate with others if she so chose to venture down the path of a meister.

She didn’t exactly care about any of that when she was younger. What she had cared about was how lonely she was.

So to no one’s surprise but her parents, when she was eight, she latched onto a pair of identical kids and declared them to be her friends. No playdate approval. No stiff conversations because “just because the parents were friends didn’t mean the kids were friends” either. These kids were her chosen friends.

Sure, there were struggles at first. The combination of Elesa’s enthusiasm alongside the twins’ own should’ve caused a large clashing of personality. In spite of that, the trio stayed together. The twins introduced themselves first as Ingo and Emmet, then as demon weapons who could turn into a pair of knives.

“Daggers sound cooler, so we say that we’re dagger twins!” Ingo had explained to Elesa. Emmet frantically nodded along, bouncing around the two as if on a pogo stick.

Despite being twins, the Ingo and Emmet were complete opposites. Ingo little to no volume control (the amount of times that Elesa swore that she would never need an alarm clock again if she lived with the twins was too numerous to remember), while Emmet moved around so often without so much of an utterance of his voice that Elesa had relied on how his footsteps sounded to know that he was around. Ingo frowned in red, then in black despite his joy. Emmet smiled in blue, then in white despite his discomfort.

But what the two were opposites in, Elesa also found that they also complimented each other. And with such compliments, she wriggled herself in between them and found the perfect piece of the puzzle that she’d been trying to solve for so long.

Friends.

She shared Emmet’s boundless energy and Ingo’s chattermouth. She didn’t share their height at first — something that Emmet had tried to impulsively fight her on after she tried to physically drag him down — but as the trio grew out of single digit ages, she shot past them and stayed a comfortable two inches taller than them. She liked reminding them of it sometimes.

Something that the trio also shared was a well-controlled level of chaos. It wasn’t enough for any adults to raise concern over any of the trio developing a madness wavelength, but it was enough for said adults to shout at the children to be careful. What each person had to be careful about differed: the twins had to be careful about their demon weapon transformations and to not accidentally get stuck in weapon form, and Elesa had to be careful to not try wielding either twin.

Of course being children, no one listened. Perhaps that was why the trio was one of the best weapon-meister groups in their not-so-humble opinion. Of course, that had gone to their heads just a little bit when they had enrolled in the DWMA’s E.A.T. program, only to have encountered changes in their desires of future careers.

“I am Emmet. Hear me out.”

“Hearing.”

“You’re being listened to.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Thank Death you said it first!” Elesa had exclaimed. She remembered that she had been lounging on the trio’s couch in their rented apartment, their AC unit chugging away the hot air of Nevada. “I’m not too interested in fighting evil on a daily basis either.”

“I considered this to be a back-up after our last mission,” Ingo had added. “We’re some of the best, I agree. But even this three-car train needs a change in maintenance to keep its engines running.”

“We caaan’t quit the program though,” Emmet had huffed. The corners of his mouth had downturned slightly, giving his signature smile a frog-like appearance. “That’ll be considered defeat. I looove winning more than anything.”

The twins had glanced at each other, and with just a few twitches of their eyes and shrugs of their shoulders Elesa had known they were doing twin-to-twin communication. A feeling of unease had started to build in her. Looking back, she probably should’ve spoken up sooner, or at least had broken the silent communication. “I — ”

“Nope!”

“Not it!”

“You doofuses! Why do I have to talk to Lord Death about this?”

“Because yooou’re our meister!”

“We’re just following the rules we set up here. Last one who jumps out has to do it.”

Elesa had given both twins a frustrated huff before she had gripped onto both of their suspenders. “Then, as your meister, I demand that both of my weapons be there so you two can explain your future paths.”

Their complaints had stopped the second the trio had decided to race up the stars of the DWMA. It had given everyone enough time to formulate their words to Lord Death, and afterwards, to start formulating where to get jobs after they graduate.

------

If there was something that Elesa loved about where she currently lives, it had to be the transportation system. It was reliable and efficient. Best of all, her boys worked there, directing passengers and shouting out orders.

Now, she hardly calls them “her boys” in public or in front of the camera. Reporters and the paparazzi would eat those words up out of context and spit out atrocious stories that might sully her image. No, she only called them “her boys” when the three were off duty. She admits, that had been a while ago. However, between her boys being the bosses of the subway system (with select cars being perfect training grounds for weapon-meister pairs while traveling), and her own job of being a model and owner of a Death-approved weapon-meister training facility, things were busy.

So of course, it was only during some of their time off — movie night at Elesa’s apartment — did Lord Death call the trio over to the DWMA for a demonstration.

“Because you three are some of the best and worst students I’ve ever had!” Death explained over the phone. Seemingly ignoring the shouts of indignation, he only started to ramble on about various stories that he remembered about the trio in their schooling days. The narratives varied between laughable to embarrassing, and it was only until the trio shouted at Death loud enough to cause neighbors to start knocking on the door did Death return to the main topic at hand.

“I’d like the three of you to visit the DWMA for a pep talk for our current batch of students. Demonstration. Pep demonstration.”

Elesa could already see the comical way that Death was posing as he said this, and it only made her blood pressure rise.

“Pardon the interruption, but why us?” Ingo asked.

“Because you three nearly dropped out of the E.A.T. program!” Ignoring the shouts from the trio, Death continued. “I admit, I was surprised! But I’m not one to fail students without good reason. You three gave me a good reason to not fail you. Running a training facility and train in your home city? You three must send me souvenirs when you visit! Travel and lodging expenses have already been paid for, so I’ll see you soon!”

The phone call ended with a click.

That started up a racket. Only after pacing, muttering, yelling at each other, and downing some pizza did the trio admit defeat. There wasn’t really a way they could wriggle out of this.

“Boys.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah?”

“Whoever doesn’t pack their bags two days before departure day has to pay for souvenirs for Death.”

“Understood.”

“Bet. Not losing.”

------

Elesa gets nervous plenty of times. Before a photoshoot, when schedules change, when she spots reporters and paparazzi on her commute. But she had tactics. She would stand in front of a mirror, feet shoulder width apart and hands on her hips. She would breathe in and out and would hold the pose until she felt like she could walk into a room and ace the challenge.

“Ingo, Emmet. The purpose of this is to feel powerful,” she said as the three powerposed in the hallway just outside the gymnasium. “You’re supposed to stand still and be silent. Clear your mind of thoughts.”

Emmet’s smile on his face was tense as he bounced between one foot and the other. “I am Emmet, and I need to move to relax.”

“This engine needs ample time to warm up before running, and this is the sound of it warming up,” Ingo said before continuing to mutter under his breath, his frown deeper set on his face.

“You two literally run a battle subway! You interact with hundreds of people daily, and what makes you nervous is standing in front of a bunch of kids?”

“Kids are verrry wild!”

“These kids are also looking up to us as their alumni. To set the expectations so high only to fail to meet them…it would be a blow to the school and ourselves!”

Elesa glanced between the two of them. Just watching the two trying to dispel their nervous energy caused some of her residual nerves to try to build up again. However, she shook out her hands and stomped her foot on the ground. “We are the Nimbasa Trio! We carry the pride and joy of our district far beyond New York city! We’re the best of the best out there, and we’re the best of the best here!”

She struck a pose, one manicured hand pointed up and the other one pointed down. Her puffy yellow jacket made her upper body look like an appealing plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, and she shook out her black hair so they fell at just the right angle around her red and blue headphones. Her electric blue eyes shone with determination and pride. “We’re the Nimbasa trio!”

Emmet was the first to join in on her posing. He dropped into a squat and raised one of his arms up while pointing the other one forwards. He stuck one foot out and his smile grew. “I am Emmet, and we’re the Nimbasa trio!”

Ingo joined in, raising one of his arms and keeping the other pointed downwards. To Elesa’s joy, he allowed himself to slightly cock out one of his hips as the corners of his frown turned upwards, resulting in a cat-like expression. “We’re the Nimbasa Trio! All aboard!”

“All aboard!” echoed Emmet.

“Our team will be the next one to make your heads spin!” Elesa announced. Build up that confidence, and natural charisma will follow!

“Well, I guess there’s no need to announce who you are, seeing how we can all hear you loud and clear,” Death suddenly said as he popped up behind the trio. “Stop screaming, I was here all along!” He gave an annoyingly cutesy peace sign that did nothing to calm Elesa’s racing heart from the scare. “I already told everyone no recordings of any sort are allowed unless they want to fail their next exam. Or get fired.” He quickly started to push the trio towards the door of the gymnasium as he said, “Now go along and I’ll be enjoying those wonderful souvenirs you three definitely got for your dear ol’ headmaster!”

Just when Emmet was about to swipe at Death with both hands, Death disappeared. “I am Emmet! Stop doing that!”

“He can be perfectly on schedule and we can still miss him. How does he do it?” Ingo mused. He stroked his chin and gave a huff of irritation. “I wonder how his current batch of passengers manage to keep up with his erratic changes.”

Elesa loved her boys. She really did. But there was a certain point of patience she had when there was something that required her utmost charisma, and unfortunately, being around her boys lowered her charm and replaced it with the strong urge to be goofy. While she would rather be goofing off with the twins instead of being presentable in front of the current batch of students at the DWMA, she couldn’t exactly disobey the orders of the headmaster that allowed the trio to pursue their current paths in life.

She cleared her throat and tapped on her wrist. “Let’s stay on schedule.”

“Right!”

------

The second the trio presented themselves to the crowd of eclectic students, any and all nerves melted away. To the sides were the E.A.T. students and in the middle were the N.O.T. students. Elesa could see confident and bored expressions on the E.A.T. students, with some blatantly paying more attention to the unheard conversation they were having amongst themselves. Contrast that with the eager and nervous faces of the N.O.T. students and one could easily tell whom this talk was supposed to be towards.

The trio easily captured the attention of everyone with a loud yell of “All Aboard!” and a pose. The twins flanked Elesa with a large swoosh of their capes while pointing towards the audience. Elesa took one knee to the ground and threw her arms out in one of her signature poses. People have often said how it accentuated her limbs or something, but that was mostly modeling business. She did that pose because it made her feel powerful. It started in her chest and bloomed outwards until it spread through her entire body.

“Good morning DWMA!” Ingo announced. Even without the microphone provided, his voice easily echoed through the walls of the gymnasium. Several students perked up and actually paid attention. “It’s a bright day in Death City, Nevada. Before we get started, we have to set a few safety rules down.”

“Stay in your seats!” Emmet piped up. It took a bit more effort for his voice to carry through the room, to which he resorted to using the microphone. “It keeps things verrry orderly for us!”

“I’m sure that Lord Death had told you already, but no recordings of this talk are to be taken or shared with anyone.” Elesa rose from her position and flipped her hair. Gone was her smile; instead, a serious and stoic gaze was plastered on her face. “We may have our faces plastered on the internet due to our jobs, but that doesn’t mean that we consent to such today.”

“I’m sure many of you are amateurs anyways.”

Ingo gasped. “Emmet!”

Introductions were supposed to be brief. Of course, when one had a reputation, questions were sure to follow once people had confirmation that the face and name matched. There had been plenty of unrelated questions towards how much money the trio made (“Strictly confidential!”), modeling careers (“It’s a matter of connections, genetic lottery, and not something you easily study for in school”), how the train managed to stay running despite battles on it (“Not telling!”), and plenty more inquiries that more or less had repeated answers.

After clawing their way out of the ocean of questions, the trio managed to start sharing the information that Death actually wanted them to share: the idea of changing careers when it didn’t match one’s enrolled class.

As the trio shared their story, Elsa’s eyes moved over the mass of students out there, hoping that their anecdotes helped soothe some of the minds of the students. She remembered the day that the stray thought of ‘Is this what you really want to do for the rest of your life?’ crossed her mind. It ate at her every waking hour and followed her to bed. It had festered as she spared with her classmates and grew until it had burst from her mouth in a declaration that had been swept underneath the rug of exam season: “I need a break.”

Sure, the talk with Lord Death at the time had been nerve-wracking. It was expected that all E.A.T. students were to continue on that path and not stray. It had taken some persuasion, along with laying out some half-formed but passionate plans, but the trio had been able to graduate their E.A.T. program and march off to a different path.

They had to send Death official reports of their businesses every couple of months, as well as take care of any Kishin eggs that happened to spawn in New York, but it was better than being frontline soldiers and risking their lives daily.

Yeah. Elesa was happy with her decision.

So of course, it was only near the end of the talk did things go sideways.

A window high above the gymnasium shattered inwards, glass raining down on a large group of students. The staff at the edges of the crowd of students braced for the high possibility of attack and for defending the students, a few of the demon weapons already transforming in preparation for combat. Orders that were barked out told the E.A.T. students present to not engage and to focus on protecting the N.O.T. students. Already there were a few shouts of protest, but when the intruder revealed themself to be a meister-weapon pair, the students’ attentions moved back towards defending their classmates.

“Kishin?” Elesa curtly asked the twins.

“Verrry possible,” Emmet said.

“This may not be our district anymore, but we are its alumni.” Ingo threw a glance towards his younger twin, then towards Elesa. “And these passengers are quickly approaching a yellow line that’s moving towards them.”

“Then let’s go!” Elesa thrust her hands out to her sides and started running towards the rogue Kishin pair. A pair of flashes poked at her peripheral vision before two familiar knives settled into her hands. She didn’t even have to peek to know which colors were in each hand; at this point, it didn’t matter which hand wielded which twin. Elesa sent out her soul’s wavelengths towards the two demon weapons in her hands and felt them respond. Perfect, the basics of soul resonance were achieved. She dug deep into her soul and prepared to boost her boys’ abilities.

Elesa leapt towards the Kishin and twisted her body to one side to barely avoid a morning star being swung into her side. The sharp spikes on the end of the round metal ball nicked her yellow puffer coat though, tearing into the waterproof material. She hissed, not out of pain, but frustration. “Hey!” she exclaimed. “This is quality material! You’re not allowed to tear it!”

She threw one of the knives towards the Kishin. The silvery-gray blade glinted in the fluorescent lights and she could briefly see a wide grin reflected in the metal. The Kishin pair leapt up and towards Elesa, missing the knife completely.

However, Elesa had foresaw this possibility. How many times had she sparred with her classmates and experienced this? She threw her other knife into the air — it was identical save for the black handle — and shouted, “Rebounding tracks!”

The white knife switched directions and flew towards the black knife. It managed to slice into the Kishin pair and send a brief electric shock through the pair. Elesa amplified the electricity before she leapt up to catch the white knife and throw the black knife. The knife enveloped itself in hot purple flames and embedded itself into the abdomen of the kenshin’s meister. The electric shock from Emmet’s electric soul would’ve temporarily disabled any soul resonance between the meister and weapon, as well as caused the meister’s muscles to cramp.

With a simple amplification and a blink, the meister’s body was aflame. Uninhibited, Ingo’s fire soul would’ve burned everything to ashes, body and soul. However, Elesa was sure that Lord Death would want to get a look at this intruder and provide proper punishment, so she raised her free hand and the black knife flew back into it.

The most important part right now was to get the meister and weapon separated.

She ignored the painful screams of the meister and discarded her puffer coat. With that, she wriggled in between the kenshin pair and pressed her knives where they’d work best: Emmet against the weapon and Ingo against the meister. She sent out her own soul wavelength towards the two and muttered, “We’re the Nimbasa Trio.”

Energetic sparks and warm flames enveloped her own soul as each knife sent out their specialties. Only this time, amongst the purple flames that burned at the meister’s body were small sparks of electricity. Amongst the yellow lines of electricity that worked to dismantle the weapon’s current form were small licks of fire.

And right in between them, was a soul that glowed as it sent out pulses of energy towards the two. Elesa’s arms slowly started to move further apart as the meister’s grip on their weapon started to slacken. With a final burst of energy, her arms fully extended and broke apart the kenshin pair. She could hear the twin’s voices echo in her head as she gave herself a moment to breathe.

Bravo Elesa and Emmet! What a well polished-engine we still are!

Verrry much so!

“Weapon first?”

Promptly.

Of course!

Just as she took a few steps towards the weapon, who had shifted to their human form now, Death suddenly manifested and gathered up the discarded kenshin pair. “Magnificent work as always! I had every bit of faith in you three, but for the moment you three needed help, that’s when our regular staff would’ve jumped in. I didn’t think that we’d need too much of their help though, so I hoped they took notes on your work!” He waggled a finger at the trio and added, “Glad to see the proof of your words up close! You three really haven’t gotten rusty.”

Elesa. Lemme at him.

Emmet! No! We’re not going to attack our headmaster!

I am Emmet, and he keeps doing this! Aaalways tricking students!

I too detest his tricks, but we’re not going to have to make others make safety checks right now.

Elesa ignored the twins bickering in the shared headspace and instead gripped their handles tighter. “Death,” she hissed, “you cheater of a god. You owe me a new yellow puffer!”

“Ah, touché.”

Elesa tossed both knives behind her before feeling arms hook into her own. She didn’t have to look to her sides to see who the familiar knife-shaped sideburns belonged to, nor did she hesitate when the three of them walked out without a second glance back.

Yeah, they may have graduated from the E.A.T. program at DWMA, but their skills learned there didn’t define their paths. So as soon as Elesa got a new yellow puffer and the trio were checked over for any injuries, Ingo asked, “How about a movie?”

“The claaasic!”

Elesa laughed. “You goofy boys.”

[ilvero-love]

Clothes Maketh the (Wo)Man (or the colour coding of the Iron Trio)

I saw a post recently wondering about the significance, if any, of the colours our Iron Trio wears💙🖤🧡. It prompted me to go looking. Like everything Complete Fiction seems to do in regard to this show, the choices are careful and deliberate.

Lockwood is black and white🖤🤍 He has a business to run and his suited appearance declares that he is prepared to do just that. He’s business like because he has to be. The success of this company rides on his back and the choices he makes. He is ambitious certainly, seen in his constant striving to take Lockwood and Co to the top and in his drive to put them into the public eye, often at the expense of other’s wishes. But it’s understandable. He has bills to pay and people (George and Lucy) that rely on him. Even after they successfully square away their debts, Lockwood remains conscious that there are still other bills to pay.

Lockwood presents an adult façade to the world. Even Lucy (in the book) is surprised to realise he is scarcely older than her upon first meeting him. But, whilst he may appear an adult, he’s still very much a teenager navigating his way through a world where children are dispensable and adults, despite their general uselessness, still call the shots. It’s Lockwood’s sneakers and pink socks that give him away and reveal the teenage boy behind the façade. This was such a clever choice on the part of Complete Fiction 👏 They remind us that whilst Lockwood has been forced to grow up too quickly, at heart he is still a teen.

So, black and white. Very simple and clear cut. Except life isn’t like that, is it?Only Lucy has insight into how tenuous his grip on control can be, and we see this in the delightful stairwell scene 💖💖💖

😍Take a moment everyone- right, where were we?

Ah yes, Lucy and her blue persona (colour not mood). Lucy’s blue is a nice foil to the green of the ghostly world they inhabit. Both blue and green are heavily associated with nature. I don’t know what that means here, but it’s interesting to ponder.

Blue is traditionally seen as a colour of constancy, loyalty and reliability. She certainly provides this for Lockwood. But it’s also a strong colour, hence its traditional association with boys. A practical colour, heavily associated with working, it feeds into Lucy’s active strength.

(Some of these ideas came after reading the interesting article https://www.allure.com/story/beauty-and-the-beast-blue-dresses-in-female-centric-films . Not sure I agree with all of it but certainly food for thought).

Finally, George 🧡 Orange radiates warmth. George is the only from a stable family background, only leaving because of a burning desire to solve the Problem. 

Orange can represent physical comfort, which, when you add it to his cooking prowess completes the picture. Despite taking a while to warm to Lucy  (understandable when it’s just been him and Lockwood for a year) once he’s in, he’s all in 💯

Orange can represent physical comfort, which, when you add it to his cooking prowess completes the picture. He’s homely-he embodies home. As Lucy says to Lockwood, “Portland Row is my home-You and George”. And despite having taken a while to warm to Lucy (understandable when it’s just been him and Lockwood for a year) once he’s in, he’s all in 💯

It is interesting too that orange is also a complementary colour to blue, meaning that you can argue that George balances Lucy, providing stability for Lockwood.

So, there you have it, my thoughts, nonsensical or not, on the colour coding of our three heroes 🧡💙🖤

Maybe, just maybe, they were completely random colour choices based on what CF could source. But knowing Complete Fiction, I somehow think not 😉

⚔👻💕

[aardvaark]

having just watched the Rundown Job. that fucked. I feel like this is what it would be like if the Big Bang Job had just an iota more self respect. for some reason BBJ is just toooooo corny I can't take it seriously, smth about eliot trying to have his emo backstory and big gun fight in one episode, but hardison and his magic Hacker Overlay and the trio drift compatible action movie-ing thru without a mastermind had me by the THROAT

the rundown job is THE ot3 episode. whether you prefer parker/hardison/eliot, or parker/hardison & eliot, or any other formation of those three, they certainly undeniably work very well together. they move in sync. they know each other so well that they don't even have to talk half the time. they've developed so much trust for each other when you compare this episode to season 1 jobs, and that mutual trust has brought all of their already-incredible talents to a new level.

you'll find that the leverage producers/writers/etc call it "competence porn", ie having scenes of the characters being extremely competent at what they do. it's fascinating and awesome just to watch them, don't even need much dialogue or plot pressure or anything. and that's really a testament to the actors' acting abilities & the stunt performers' skills.

plus we get all of their paired dynamics too! i love the parker & eliot dynamic where they’re both very task-oriented, logical, dangerous people. in the lost heir job episode commentary, john rogers had this to say...

[from @leverage-commentary]

...which i love. i love that dynamic, and you can see it in the rundown job too. except the lost heir job was season 2, and the rundown job is season 5, and that makes a difference in some respects - they're not so much hiding that from hardison, for one thing. and hardison doesn't need them to hide it, cause he seems to mostly think they're super fucking cool. except for when they're scaring the shit out of him, like parker burning the disease at the last second or eliot getting shot etc etc. mostly he thinks they're super cool though lol.

and while i tend to think that the "seeing math in the air" thing is usually a cheesy trope (like the spencer reid version. why is jesus there), i honestly really liked seeing inside hardison's head for once. it wasn't just random numbers like the confused math lady meme:

no, he's mapping the whole thing out in his head: we see some if-then-else flowcharts, he's picturing the direction the gears will turn, etc etc. he's figuring out how it will logically work and how it will mechanically work. to figure out all these problems in his mind, which he does every episode... well, he really is a genius, never forget it!

plus of course we get parker showing off her skills by jumping on trains + laser gymnastics + upside-down bomb defusing, and we get eliot skills of disturbingly calm negotiations + of course the fight scenes. they've each come such a long way too... eg hardison being way calmer about leaning on a bomb (again!) lol... ugh i could rant forever about how much i love these characters!!

i think the big bang job's gun fight is part of the eliot angsty stuff cause he had to shoot (and therefore likely kill) people for the first time in a long time. for action movie enjoyers, The Implications TM certainly dampen the action fun, so i get what you mean. i don't mind eliot angsty moments though. eliot IS kinda emo deep down sometimes - however, if hardison or someone called him that, there'd be hell to pay lol.

thank you for the ask, i love discussing this show!! :)

[taurusmoonchild]

Next Gen Trio

I never see this version of a next gen trio but they have always been mine so here is a characterisation that no one asked for.

These three grew up like siblings. Since they were born just within in a month there was truly no world where they wouldn't become inseparable.

I have also written like 3 one shots for them :)

Do you get deja-vu?

"They are gonna be trouble, aren't they?"

'Please just shut up!'

Rose Granger-Weasley

Birthday: November 16th 2005

House: Gryffindor

She's the irresponsible mom of the group who will most definitely get you out of trouble after getting you into it.

She'd rather die than turn in an assignment late and will humble you while checking your essays. In general she is the kind to not have to try too hard to get decent grades but she'll hustle to get excellent ones.

Loves Quidditch and plays as Chaser. As a kid she always dared James to a race, beating him quite a few times despite being 2 years younger than him.

She is more of an extrovert that gets into a fair amount of parties. Socialising comes easy to her and she loves small talk.

Very judgy and petty at times. Loves to argue, but takes a while to see when she was wrong. She'll most likely never apologise first.

In the trio, she's the oldest (barely) and has to make sure people know so. She'd do anything for the other two while also verbally dragging them whenever she gets the chance (in a fun way ofc)

Albus *redacted* Potter

Birthday: November 28th 2005

House: Slytherin

He's the introvert in a family full of extroverts and this trio is no exception. He has to be dragged everywhere and always puts up a fight even though he secretly doesn't mind.

He doesn't care too much about school, but loves Potions and Charms. His grades are fine, but Rose is convinced he would be top of his class if he just tried a little.

He hated being sorted into Slytherin until he found it wasn't at all what he had convinced himself it was. He has found a few friends and gets along with a lot of people.

He tolerates those he doesn't like and just tries to ignore comments that get thrown at him on the daily. Though some of them hurt him more than he'd like to admit.

He's an expert at keeping things to himself causing things to explode when he does say what's bothering him. He also apologises for everything and everyone even when he really shouldn't have to.

In the trio he's the certified middle child who has the ability to ground the other two by playing peace maker. Whenever there is a Hufflepuff and Gryffindor Quidditch match he makes sure to where the colours for both teams.

Louis Weasley

Birthday: December 10th 2005

House: Hufflepuff

An absolute menace to society with a golden retriever energy. He cares a lot about the little things and not enough about the big ones. Including grades.

He's the kindest and most loyal person who's had a crush on the same girl since first year. He will mot give up and is convinced the universe will work it out for him.

Loves to play Quidditch, especially against Rose.

Everyone is convinced there's not a single thing that could ruin his mood because he radiates positive energy.

Sometimes he likes to mess with people and will use his Veela powers to get his way. Which he knows is toxic but he calls it "God's will".

He's a bit cocky (it's giving jock) and doesn't think before he speaks. Though he means well he comes across as too much sometimes, which scares people away.

In the trio he is the instigator who will propose a plan and then won't accept a no. He's also the hugger of the trio, much to the disliking of his companions.

[animehouse-moe]

Blade of The Moon Princess Volume 1: An Incredible Look Into Endou's Vision

Rather imprudent of me to title this after the artist rather than the art itself, but it's very hard not to. When your most recent work is your greatest hit, and one of the largest out of nowhere successes in a good while, it's hard to relate everything to that feat.

Regardless, what we have here is Endou's last serialized work before Spy x Family. There's a trio of one-shots bridging the gap, but all three (I Spy in particular, of course) contribute a significant amount to what it is that Endou distills into Spy x Family. Of course, you get borrowings from Tista, and most certainly from Blade of The Moon Princess. Because of those ties, I'd love to explain the connections (and quality) of Blade of The Moon Princess in relation to Endou's Magnum Opus.

Let's get the story out of the way: there are people living on the moon. All Feudal Japan-like but with fancy technology and unimaginable power. Kaguya, the young girl on the cover, is the next-in-line princess to succeed her mother and rise from princess to empress of the moon. Of course, not everyone likes that, as the branch family that was disgraced by the actions of the prior empress that originated from their family has stained their history. Desperate to claw back the power they had lost, they attempt to murder Kaguya's mother and steal away the symbol of her power, a sword passed down from empress to empress that's meant to protect the people of the moon. The coup-meets-assassination fails, and Kaguya is able to flee to the tainted planet (Earth) with the sword and evade the branch family, if only briefly.

Surprisingly well put together, yeah? I thought so too. Where Tista lacks a clear cut vision as to the reason behind Tista's story, Endou rectifies that hole here by providing viewers with the idea that Kaguya's goal is to return to the moon as its empress and usurp the branch family that has wrestled control away from her.

Moving on though, there's quite a few pieces that will catch the attention of readers. The moon, Kaguya, bamboo and Japan. It's Endou's version of The Story of Princess Kaguya. And I think that's really cool. They stretch the fabric of the original story so thin that you can shine a light through it, and Endou uses that light to illuminate the details that he's added. Kaguya does not appear to an old man in a stalk of bamboo. Rather, she appears in a space ship shaped like bamboo.

Much like Endou's marriage of sci-fi and fantasy with Blade of The Moon Princess, they form a transitional period in their storytelling between Tista and Spy x Family. Not quite as humorous as Spy x Family, and not quite as dark as Tista, Kaguya helms a story that straddles the middle of Endou's mind through this first volume. And I think that's something that will be immediately apparent to readers throughout the whole volume.

Though I say 'whole volume', there's two things that will immediately clue readers in: Anya and perspective. Now no, Anya does not appear in this first volume really. But I mean, just look at Kaguya's expressions, they exude the simplicity and laziness of Anya. While Ashe from the referentially titled Rengoku No Ashe might have been the inspiration for Anya's design, Kaguya represents a good portion of her soul.

Similarly, though in the opposite direction, is Endou's use of perspective. While it still exists in Spy x Family, it's to a far lesser degree than something like Tista. In his early days, he very much so had a penchant for blown perspective and the depiction of characters with small and narrow frames. Blade of The Moon Princess continues this trend, though perhaps on a lesser scale than before. The latter example in particular feels like it was pulled directly from Tista.

Anyways, let's refocus on the story to close things out. We know what Endou wants to do, we know where we're going and where it wants to end. It's a very confident series in that regard, which in turns provides me with confidence that it'll be a solid ride through its five volume run. It won't rush to fit it into two volumes, and it won't barely make it a story through one, it'll take its ideals about Kaguya's character, and take the time Endou needs to probably mold and shape it. It's the most promising exercise in Endou's storytelling prior to Spy x Family, and that has me very intrigued. A hot headed girl, stranded so far away from home, stuck with feelings of inadequacy and rage. But a girl that must nonetheless learn how to harness those feelings for the better, and use them to protect the people that form her kingdom. It's a well put and traditional approach with all the right twists and turns inserted by Endou. I'm very curious to see where it goes.

[cottoncandy-cult]

Big Dog Bonus

Beelzebub x Chubby! Reader

Beel is my favorite brother, I like Mammon too, but Beel is number 1 best boy. I will throw myself in front of Lucifer's wrath every time.

Also trigger warning for active boiling, some mean comments about her weight before the boys step in

(Y/n) entered the house of lamentation after work, she had a part time job as a receptionist at a tattoo parlor. It gave her the money she needed to survive, as a demon she had only herself to pay her way. As she was on her way to her room, she was stopped by 2 girls and a boy. These 3 had been picking on (Y/n) because despite being a demon, she was a bit chubby, some thought she was cute but these 3 took every chance to attack her self-esteem. It was because of them that the girl was so quiet, having to deal with them for years she had become very shy and almost reclusive. Only this night would be different, just a few feet up the hall stood Beelzebub with his brothers Mammon and Lucifer.

"Hey there piglet, how's work at the slop shop?" One girl, Vivica, put her hands on her hips. This drew the attention of Mammon; he had worked with (Y/n) in class and she had been pretty nice to him, so he was curious as to what was going on. "I'm surprised they let you work where customers can see you, someone like you is just bad for business." This snarky voice was the other girl, Claudia, her high voice drawing Lucifer and Beelzebub's attention. (Y/n)'s (E/c) orbs stared at the ground, quietly taking what they had to throw at her. "You know if you're not gonna quit eating you could make friends with a porcelain bowl, at least then you'd have a shot at not being alone." This was Leo, his words making (Y/n) flinch. Mammon had enough. "Hey bastard! You wanna say that again!?” Lucifer had gone to stop Mammon from charging over and starting a fight, but both stopped when Beelzebub began to slowly walk over. His hands were in his pockets as he wore an irritated look, this made Leo back up and (Y/n) look up. "You know, being stupid isn't a very attractive quality. I'd hate to have to make you as ugly on the outside as you are inside, but..." He glared at the three, the trio standing on the other side of the shy girl with her between them and Beel.

The beautiful Titan stood in front of her, but his eyes were on them. He had always admired (Y/n) from afar, they were in a few classes together, and she was just so cute to him. She was really quiet, but he knew she was sweet, he liked how she was now. He didn't like littler girl because he was a big guy, he had to really hold back and be careful with them as far as affection and the like. "If I hear another foul word spit at then you're gonna be spitting your teeth after and I'll make sure everyone will be able to see what you really look like." It was silent before she heard retreating footsteps, the trio fleeing, that was when Lucifer approached. "I'll have a word with Lord Diavolo, those 3 will be reprimanded." (Y/n) looked to him and nodded, blushing softly before looking away. "Ok... Thank you guys for... That." The (H/c) haired girl looked up when feeling warm and gentle hands resting on her shoulders, her eyes locking with Beel's. "Has this been happening a lot?" Mammon stayed quiet; he had taken up for her a few times when he heard people talking about her behind her back, but he didn't want to admit to that.

"Sometimes... Those 3 in particular are the worst but there isn't a day someone doesn't comment on it..." Her voice had grown soft, arms curling around her waist as she felt insecure just talking about it. "I can fix that; I'll just walk with you everywhere." The warm smile that stretched across his face made (Y/n)'s cheeks erupt in a dark red, the other two brother's chuckling. "I'll make sure no one says anything, but you have to do something for me." This drew the 3's attention, (Y/n)'s head tilted as she looked up at him. "What is it Beel?" She was expecting to hear him say she had to cook for him, she was surprised when he grabbed her hand. "You gotta be my girlfriend." At that the girl had almost passed out, never in a thousand years did she expect one of the hottest demons in all of devildom to make such a request. Mammon choking in surprise, Lucifer simply kept a calm smirk. "O-of course Beel."

With that he interlaced their fingers, smiling down at her. "Good now let's go order some pizza and cuddle." Like that he led the girl to his room, leaving the two brothers' behind. One of which was already posting about the new relationship on devilgram, including a pic of the two walking down the hall hand in hand.

[samobservessonic]

We’re continuing the current run of oneshots for the main story, but it's a Kitching & Elson one, so you know it’s going to be great right away. The setting is hardly subtle, with Troopers reaching the stage of grabbing anyone to turn into badniks with the logic that “everyone is guilty of something”

Now, a few issues ago, we saw something interesting in the oneshot about the kid and his badnik friend, where the kid was spoken to by the troopers and then allowed to go about his day. Up until then, I’d kind of been assuming that StC worked a bit more like the games, where any of the Mobians were up for grabs to be turned into badniks. But that isn’t the case here. From almost the start, we’ve seen there are a lot of Mobians who support and work with Robotnik. This makes more sense from the perspective that Robotnik isn’t turning everyone into badniks. And while we as the audience know that Robotnik would indeed take anyone he wanted to throw in a robot, there are definitely a lot of Mobians who believe that they’re exempt from it… so long as they behave “I didn’t think the guy who kidnaps people and turns them into mindless slaves would do that to me” and all that. So basically, in StC, Robotnik’s dictatorship provides him with a following of rightwing supporters. It’s not a million miles away from how Sonic Underground handles it, but it is very different to SatAM and Archie. Which isn’t a judgement on any of these series, just an observation. Since this blog is alo for my stray thoughts about Sonic spin-offs

We’re then given this imposing shot of Robotnik to give some context. The recent destruction of his statue has made it clear to him that Mobius views him as less of a threat right now. With the Emerald Hill folk safely off his radar and the Freedom Fighters bagging more wins, everyone’s assuming that he’s on his way out (spoilers: he is) and he’s digging his heels in to show that’s not the case. Even if it means going after people who, if not support him, at least keep their heads down when the troopers pass by

But it’s time to cut away to our heroes and, as has been the trend lately, we’ve got the trio of Sonic, Amy & Johnny. With Porker retiring from action and Tails off having his own adventures, these three are our main guys at least up until Amy teams up wit Tekno and Sonic is forced to room with the Chaotix for a bit

But for right now, Sonic is mortified by the civilians' assumption that Amy is his girlfriend. Y’know, looking back at these, I think I can safely list StC as the origin of why I never got into shipping SonAmy, since he’s really, really not into the idea of dating her here and even Amy loses interest from a romantic POV later on

Heck, I feel like we’re starting to enter that era now, since this comes across more as Amy teasing a friend than anything else, at least to me?

We can’t have this story just be the crew busting some prisoners out with no opposition though, so here’s our villains of the week

You folks know by now that I generally skip over a lot of the fight scenes. So let’s say “There is a fight scene” and carry on lol

Which is resolved by Amy using her brains and figuring out the ol’ “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtains” trick

Then we have an ending to this battle that I find quite interesting: Amy lets Sonic think that he’s won, but Johnny notices

There’s been a couple of times now when we’ve seen that in his inner-thoughts, Sonic isn’t quite as confident as he puts across. It’s important to him that people have faith in him and his abilities, even if he has doubts about himself that he’d rather hide. I do wonder if Amy knows this and that could be another reason behind her not taking credit, besides that she doesn’t want to take the limelight and thinks being the star suits Sonic better. It's good that the Mobians have faith in Sonic. They need that Regardless of what she thinks, she’ll be well-known as a hero herself soon enough, but for now she’s shrugging her shoulders about this win

I also like when they paint Johnny as the more level-headed and observant one of the group. After this era, we start to see less of Johnny, but I enjoy how he’s being written at the moment

[nightlix07]

༆Maze of memories༆

Character(s): Reo Mikage (Blue lock)

Reader type: Not specified(Gender-Neutral Pronouns)

Warning(s): mentions of suicide, depression, self-harm, ED)

Genre: Angst, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Happy ending(?I mean I think it is...)

Word count: ~5,3k words (I think the site lied to me, maybe)

Author's note: Did I not see enough angst with him and I did it myslef? Yes I did. Did I go too hard on how depressed Reo can be?...maybe. Enjoy! <3

It was a warm sunny day. Maybe too sunny as you had to keep a bottle of water close by if you wished to keep running on the field without fainting. Keeping up with Reo's stamina was tough, playing against him on a 1 on 1 was like running for the Olympics. It was like this boy had no limit.

"Come on Y/N! I know you can do better!~" You heard Reo coo teasingly.

Oh, how he annoyed you... You pushed yourself further, running to block his shot and stealing the ball. His eyes widen slightly seeing how focused you became. He smirked and ran after you, trying to block your shot as well but to no avail. You scored with a powerful blow. You heard Reo clapping as he smiled warmly.

Nagi looked up from his phone to just nod at you as to congratulate you. Then he went to continue his game again... You were wondering what game was so captivating. Maybe an open-world RPG? Or something that required more thinking? Your thoughts were cut off when you heard Reo's voice.

"Impressive, yet easily noticeable by the opponent team. If this was a real match...." You sigh and take the water bottle he was offering you. You were thirsty after that amount of effort under the scorching sun. The water felt divine, it was cold, bringing your body temperature back to normal.

Reo was still rambling about all the other ways you could have stolen the ball, scored and whatnot. You didn't mind it. It was kind of cute seeing how he was able to ramble for hours on end about soccer.

"Hmm, but what's more important is that I beat you so don't be a sore loser~" You say, taking revenge for how much he has teased you while playing.

Reo scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest while glaring at you playfully. You both liked to annoy each other and somehow those banters never escalated into a fight. It was some kind of mutual understanding. On filed it was no different, people said eyes talk and they weren't lying as with just a glance you two could understand each other. Nagi understood those 'signals' as well. It was like a strange string connecting you three, fate most likely as you liked to say. Other schools feared Hakuho High School's soccer team because of your trio. And they feared you for a good reason. This is how every day looked for you: Reo challenging you to try the tricks he learned and Nagi sometimes taking part just to absolutely destroy both of you at soccer.

Today was no different: training, running, laughing and joking...until a teacher brought over some weird-looking envelopes.

"Blue Lock?.... It sounds like a prison. " You say unimpressed.

The three of you studied the weird-looking letters. Reo's full of enthusiasm at the new opportunities that just opened up. His eyes twinkled with joy...until he saw you and Nagi looking at the letter in disdain.

"Oh come on, it clearly says they want us to join to get better at soccer...! It's an opportunity we can't pass!" He was trying his best to get you and Nagi to agree.

You didn't like the sound of the so-called 'project' and Nagi...

"It's a hassle... Too much work."

Reo sighed and wrapped his arms around both of your necks smiling brightly, bringing you two close to him.

"Come on, we promised to become the best! You can't back out now!" Reo was always good at tying the team together. After all, he was the one who 'created it'.

You remember how the school's team came to be. You were tasked to ask students around the school if they wished to join the school's soccer team. Most of them weren't interested and you were ready to give up...until you met Reo. He started acting like his life depended on it, following kids until they agreed or just plain ol' threatening them....subtly.

"Join the soccer team! The best team ever! " Reo shouted with vigour. You barely knew him... Why did he care this much?... You sigh and pay it no mind.

"Hey...we don't know for sure if the team will be that good-" You try to reason with the purple-haired boy but your words were cut off by him almost instantly.

"I'll make sure it will be!" He said proudly and you couldn't help but burst out laughing. He scowled at your reaction but after a bit, he couldn't help but burst out laughing as well.

After that ordeal, Reo said he knew the perfect last candidate: Nagi. Making the white-haired boy agree to join the soccer team...was harder than proving your homework wasn't stolen off of another classmate to the teacher.

From that point onward, you three were inseparable. You still remember the night you two had to practically shove information down Nagi's throat so he would pass, or when Reo refused to talk to either of you because he messed up a shot. You chuckle with fondness at the memories. You liked them. If it weren't for this small group, life would be boring, wouldn't it? A life without Reo nagging you, without Nagi explaining the tactics he needs to use to win the game's next level. A family.

And so you decided to join Blue Lock.

"There are so many people..." You look around in curiosity, walking close to Reo and Nagi, not wanting to get lost in the crowd.

"Means the selections will be hard." Reo mutters in slight concern while looking at the stage up front.

The project's logo stood proudly on the big screen. The rest of the scene was awfully empty, the only 'decoration' being two plants. Nagi was also looking around, meaning it was a fascinating situation if it made him look away from his phone. The lights cut out around the room, and the ones on the stage shine brightly, almost blindingly. You squint your eyes to adjust to the light. On the stage, a tall, slim and weak man appears...Ego, your so-called new coach. He looks like he hasn't slept in decades! He goes on and on about this project, talking about how soccer isn't about a team, how you should be egoists and other uncanny things. It looked like it was a cult! It was weird at best. After Ego finishes his speech, the screen opens up, creating an entryway. It was filled with thick fog, the entrance looking like it was straight out of a horror movie.

"So who is ready to be an egoist should enter at once, the other weaklings can leave!" The man yelled as he glared at the crowd.

People started talking between them, whispers of disapproval and fear. Some trying to hype each other up to join. You were looking at the doorway. Who in their right mind would go? It sounded and looked like a cult! ...And of course, Reo was ready to go, taking both your and Nagi's hands, dragging you to the giant doorway. Did he have no survival instincts?! Maybe his basic survival skills somehow dispersed into thin air but yours were in full swing.

"Hey, hey! Let's think this through! It sounds suspicious Reo!..." You try to pull back but to no avail. Reo's grip on your wrist was firm. No way you were going to be freeing yourself from it.

The first few challenges were easy, more like child's play for your trio. Even the first real match was easy. Reo helping you and Nagi connect while the other team couldn't even tell which one of you will strike thanks to the constant passing between you three. Your team won with 5-2. You breathe deeply to catch your breath after all that running.

"We did it! If the next teams are so weak we're set! Good job Y/N!" Reo says enthusiastically.

Again, how did he have so much stamina? He ran around the field, dribbled, passed, scored. And somehow he was still able to run to your side to ruffle your hair. You push away his hand as you shoot him a warning glance. Reo laughs softly. Your team was happy, celebrating. You, Reo and Nagi rambling happily about the match. You hear someone crying and you look at the other side of the field. It looked like a battlefield.

People laying on the floor, crying, yelling. It was weird seeing all those other kids' dreams be crushed. The looks of pure despair, disdain, hatred even. You decide to walk away before one of them tries anything to take revenge. Before the next match, you had time to prepare and rest, so you decided that a quick meal would give you some energy and prepare you for the next hours of training. Of course Nagi and Reo tag along. Where you went, they went too and this was kind of an unwritten rule.

You sleepily lean your head against the cafeteria table after finishing your food. You look up only to see Reo trying to make a deal with Nagi to eat. You chuckle at the sight as Reo glares at you. You also train for a while before heading off to sleep. You lay in your comfy bed, close your eyes and wait...and wait... Why were you so restless...? It was only a match, an easy one on top of that. Still, you couldn't sleep. You move around, try different positions, count sheep, any old trick in the book but still nothing. You decide to sit up and look if anyone is also awake. Nothing. You sigh annoyed and you move to stand up. If you can't sleep you can at least train. Your stamina needed some training anyway so why not- Well that's what you wished to do before your master plan was stopped by Reo pulling your hand down. Again, his grip on your wrist was like being held down by some of the strongest chains known to man. How does he even manage?! You try to argue with him but he tiredly opens his eyes to glare at you.

"But Reo I can't sleep anyways, I can at least train!-"

"Sleep."

"Reo-"

"Y/N." His eyes were stabbing daggers into you.

Without any place to dispute this, you lay back down. After the effort of trying to break free from the inhuman hold Reo had on you, you fall asleep quite quickly. Somehow his grip on your arm never faltered.

It was time for the match. You were against team Z. Both teams take their specific spots on field, waiting for the kick-off. Reo quickly starts the game, Nagi sprinting forward while you and Reo were using the give-and-go technique, confusing the other team.

"Reo, off to Nagi!" You shoot the ball to Reo after you broke defence.

He quickly catches your pass and sends it to Nagi. Your quick understanding of each other's position on field made the other team lose the first three rounds. They were getting desperate and it was easily noticeable. Some glared at you, others threw insults yet once again you could only see that eerie landscape...despair. You hated that look so you turn to search for Reo's cheerful eyes to shake off that odd feeling. And so you find them, purple eyes filled with nothing other than the most beautiful things in this world: fondness, kindness. He smiles warmly at you and the feeling of fear and pain disappear like they were never there in the first place.

"What, missed me?~" Reo says teasingly while tilting his head to taunt you. He was back to his teasing demeanour.

"Not that much really."

"Oh so you missed me-" You cut his words off by gently flicking his forehead at which he groans and pouts. You pat his head as to say sorry and you go back in position.

And so your eyes leave him and focus on the view in front of you. Misery, anguish. You get goosebumps from the chillness and brutal glares the other team had. You prepare yourself to mark one of the other teams' attackers. The first touch moves towards you, you look at the yellow-eyed boy in the eyes as he smiles insanely. He dribbles past you and all of your team. You watch it wide-eyed as you see him move closer and closer and...he scores. His team welcomes him back with open arms while you look at Reo for any kind of comfort or help but you only see fury. He just...stared at the other team.

"Reo?-"

"They got the taste of victory. Now they'll act like dogs teaming up on us..." His words were pure venom. His usual soft eyes were now void of emotion. He wasn't even looking at you, he gazed yonderly at the other side of the field. His eyes seemed to go past your like you weren't even there in the first place.

"Reo!" You say a bit louder trying to get his attention and maybe calm him down.

His eyes seem to snap back, focusing on your figure. He smiled weakly as his eyes retained some of their usual warmth.

"Ah sorry, I was talking out loud wasn't I? Don't mind it, you know I get mad easily Y/N." He tries to lure you away from the truth with small lies yet you knew him better.

You decide to not push him too far and just pat his head as encouragement. The match starts once again. Reo loses the ball and you're forced into defence. They score again. You see Reo's eye twitch as he stares at Team Z, more precisely, the player that marked him the whole match. The other player notices Reo's hostile look so he walks closer with a teasing grin on his face.

"What is it genius, huh? Never lost a match? I'll make sure you taste failure you-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Reo hits the player with his elbow. You run to Reo's side to pull his hand away and stop him from hitting the guy again. This action earned him a yellow card yet Reo didn't seem to mind, his eyes were calculating, almost predatory while watching Team Z help their stumbling teammate walk to a nearby bench. After you shake him slightly Reo's eyes move to study your figure. They were frigid. He pushes you off while glaring at you.

"I know what I'm doing so stop treating me like a child. If they keep scoring they'll think they're strong...like some strays scaring off some weaklings." His voice was loud and harsh, his demandour aggressive.

You just stare at this whole ordeal. You knew he didn't like losing but still... You notice his eyes faltering when he notices your slightly scared look. He eventually gives up arguing and hugs you closely while hiding his face in the crook of your neck, trying to forget about this whole competition, trying to remember how playing soccer as just a game was.

"Sorry..." That's all he mutters before he looks up to see any sort of reaction. He wanted to know if you were mad at him, startled, sad, anything. Reo just wanted to protect you from those destructive emotions as best as he could and being the cause of them wasn't something he wanted.

"Are you done acting like a maniac? We'll win. I'm sure of it." You say reassuringly while tying his now messed up hair back up.

You see Reo's eyes light up once again. Even if the game was 4-4, a gamble at best, you still had hopes. You were strong enough, you could do it. The first kick starts the game, everything seems to be distorted. The other team was moving rapidly along the field, your eyes were never able to find all of Team Z. You run, you try to block, mark, anything yet it was useless. You hear a whistle. The one that you heard whenever you scored, whenever you won.

"Team Z won! Congratulations, next repartisation will be calculated...-" You don't even hear the rest of the announcement as you just stare at the big screen depicting your failure. Everyone looked at it like it was some kind of painting with some strange untold stories.

You...lost? What was this weird feeling? Why wasn't our team happy? Why was that look of despair spreading around your team? Was this the feeling the teams you beat felt? You didn't like it and neither did Nagi or Reo.

"I don't like this. Why am I sad? This is what losing feels like. I don't like it." You hear Nagi mutter while standing close to you, gazing at the other celebrating team.

Reo was on the opposing side of the field. His gaze was cold, he wasn't looking at the other team, he just stared down. You decide to walk closer to him just for him to look up at you with a shattered look. Like he lost all motivation. You didn't like the look of anguish in his eyes, you only wanted to see his usual joyful look.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault-" Reo's voice was a bit shaky.

You didn't like him being sad. You never wanted to see him lose again if it meant he would be like this. Why were you feeling this way?... You felt like you could do anything to 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 his cheerful personality. You decide to gently smack his head at which he looks up scared.

"Our fault. We're a team." You smile softly at him while Nagi gives a thumbs up as approval. Reo smiles and nods. You appreciated the way your friendship was pure love and support for each other, no matter the case.

Your team still moved to second selection. Before you could move to that stage you had to train for a week straight. You thought it would be easy yet every night, as soon as your head hit the pillow you were out cold. After that week you finally got moved to second selection where followed only...more training. But it was worth it to pass that big door to see Reo and Nagi again. The room was bustling with life. You run to hug both of your friends. You didn't even know you missed them! You were ready to move to the next stage, this amazing trio had a bit more to fight to get to the national team-...

"Nagi?" You turn to see Nagi staring in the distance. Why wasn't he coming?

"Come on Nagi, we'll lose the head start." Reo sounded anxious.

But Nagi wasn't budging. Where was he even looking at?! You finally turn fully to scout the area. Isagi's team? So he was worried about what his team will be like?-

"Isagi, I want to join your team."

Oh, who would even want to join that idiot's team, you think scoffing before you recognise the voice. The voice that used to always nag you about games or deny any training.

"Nagi, what are you saying?" Before you could even react, Reo speaks.

Nagi was only walking further away from you. Where was he going? Was he pranking you? He never did that. Was he testing you? Did he want to see if you really cared? What did he want? Why would he leave? You feel like you're breaking down. The stable walls you had built alongside those two. The pillars of love, trust. Falling. Your face quickly loses all light, all hope. 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫. It was taking you over. Eating away at all your feelings and emotions. Why was Nagi getting farther away? Why was he leaving? You turn to Reo for support, help, care yet you only see a crushed soul. It felt like the soccer player you loved to annoy was gone. Everything was 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞. This was a dream all along, wasn't it? No way everything would be destroyed this easily. Nothing was real, was it? Nothing really happened. Nothing-

"Nagi, we were supposed to be a family, a team!" You don't even know who said it. Was it you, or was it Reo who dared to shout those words?

You heard the door open. Those doors reserved for your small team of three. The small team meant to go to nationals. You stare at it like it was alive, like it took away Nagi, like that inanimate object was the one making you feel all this pain. You snap out of this spiral of doubt, feeling a weak hand taking your hand. Reo. What was supposed to be Reo, what remained. He was almost crying, almost, as always. He was staring at you, begging.

"Y/N. You won't...leave, isn't it?... I'm still of use to you." His voice was weak, shaky. It missed all the force and happiness it had.

You bring him closer and hug him. That's all you could think of. You wanted him close, you wanted to comfort and feel comforted. You feel Reo cling onto you like you would just disperse into small particles of dust if he lost his grip on you. It felt like he was holding onto the last piece of the dream he had. This was surreal.

"Y/N. You didn't respond. Why do you keep looking at those doors? Do you want to leave too? Please...don't..."

His voice. His embrace. It lost all past meaning. It was just pain. The despair you despised.

"I won't leave Reo. Why would I? You're everything I have." It's all you manage to say. You wanted to be strong. To help him yet you were as terrified as him.

The whole room was looking at you two, like you were putting up a show for their pleasure. Your pain, entertainment for them. You hated this place. You wanted to get out. You decide that you have to be the one helping. Some pieces of you still standing while Reo didn't have anything left. You take a deep breath. This was your role now. Build him up to build yourself up. Now how could you help him? Water? Maybe. He's dehydrated... You decide to get to the lounge and get some water.

"Don't...leave. Y/N please don't...I can't anymore."

You immediately turn to hug him once more, trying to soothe his pain. He muffled his cries in your shoulder while you were trying to hide his exhausted body. The others were preying on pain like it was their only source of energy. If you could, you would take out every single one of them...

This went on for a while until Reo calmed down. You both sat in a corner of the room. People were still whispering about what happened. Those useless...

"Y/N, you can leave me if you want to. You know that don't you? Maybe I've lost use or talent. That's why he left isn't it?" He was saying you could leave yet his tight grip on your hand was saying otherwise.

"I said I'm not leaving. I need you. You're talented Reo. Stop putting yourself down"

"..."

"Reo, please."

Silence. You turn to look at him. He was tired, worn out. A shell of what he was. But no worries, you would help him. You're going to always be there for him. You smile at the thought and move to stroke his hair. He just looks up at you, too weak to even react. You were calm yet your mind was racing. Nagi left, Reo is giving up on everything, you need to move forward but you can't push him too much.

"Hmmm, the geniuses fell? Where's the other one?"

You turn to look up at the one talking to you. The redhead from Team Z. Chigiri. You stand up, trying to protect Reo.

"What do you want?"

"Where is the white-haired one?"

"Not your problem."

"He left, isn't it? That's why the so-called genius is weeping."

His tone was sarcastic. You grit your teeth at the smug expression on his face.

"Not your problem I said. I advise you to stop."

Your tone was menacing, bloodthirsty even. Chigiri stopped and just glanced at Reo who was now standing behind you.

"I want to join your team. The white-haired one left you and my own team left me. We're on the same page aren't we?"

Oh, so he meant business. This is your chance. He was strong and his talent was of use. If you managed to forge some new reactions...you didn't need Nagi anymore.

"Very well. Welcome to the team, Chigiri." You shake his hand.

And so you could move to the next stage. Reo was clinging onto you and Chigiri was just walking next to us. He didn't seem to care about what Reo was doing which was perfect. You could rest before choosing who to fight against. You needed it, Reo needed it and by the exhausted look on Chigiri's face, he needed it too. The room was small yet comfy. Chigiri went out to train or just manage his thoughts as well, away from his new companions. And so you were left alone with Reo. He was just standing on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. What was he thinking? He looked like instead of the floor he saw the replay of all his life. Of all that went wrong. You decide to bend down in front of him to grab his attention. He looks up slowly, his eyes red from crying.

"Reo, want me to bring you something from the cafeteria? You didn't eat today."

"No."

"Reo, you need to eat."

"I said no Y/N."

You couldn't even get through to him. He didn't leave the room. He didn't eat, he didn't train, he was rarely speaking. You move to gently comb your fingers through his hair. You wanted to help him, you wanted to bring his joy back yet it seemed like this was the new Reo. You sigh and move to lie on your bed. It was late anyway, you needed rest and he didn't seem like he was in the mood to talk anyway. You couldn't close your eyes though. Images of your happy memories with your friends flash in front of you if you do. It made you sick seeing how Reo has just gotten worse in just a few hours. You saw his strong figure, his smile, his laugh, yet across from you, you saw how he lost his pride, his everything, even himself.

You finally got to sleep for a while. You toss and turn...yet you somehow manage. It was mostly quiet yet you jumped at any little sound. The board's creaking, Chigiri moving around, anything. Even the quiet steps, the gently closed door, the muffled cries. You knew it was Reo. You wanted this to end. Why was 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆 plotting to destroy everything? What did you do? What did Reo do to deserve being torn apart like this? You walk up to the door and gently knock. You couldn't wake up Chigiri yet you couldn't let Reo alone.

"Reo. Open the door."

"Leave, I'm fine."

"You aren't, you're sick. You've been throwing up for at least 5 minutes. Open the door."

You were getting annoyed. Not at him, at yourself. You let this happen, didn't you? You didn't keep Nagi close, you didn't try to push Reo to eat or talk. You left him alone. You're a horrible person- You hear reluctant steps and a quiet click. That's everything that was holding you back. As soon as the pale bathroom light crept through the barely open door, you swung it open and leapt into Reo's embrace. You hug him as close as you can. You try to give him your warmth. He was cold, and fragile yet that made you want to 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 him even more.

"I'm sorry I'm like this Y/N. I don't think I can continue anymore. I don't want to play soccer anymore. I don't want to live anymore. Too much..."

"Shh... I'm not mad. I will never be Reo. Please don't cry. It's fine..."

His arms were frail. He was crying uncontrollably while shaking. You could feel your shoulder get wet because of his tears. You didn't like it. Scouring the bathroom you saw a blade discarded on the floor. It felt like the little hope you still had crumbled. You move his arm up and gently kiss his wrist before moving his hand to cup your cheek. You try to smile while seeing the harrowing sight in front of you.

"It's fine. I'll help you, Reo. You're going to be fine. Please..." You were just pleading. Begging like your life depended on it.

"I don't want to continue. Too much pain. I feel sick Y/N."

His words were pure agony. At that very moment, you lost all composure. You felt like he was slowly slipping away from you. He was leaning against you, searching for support so he wouldn't fall. His hug wasn't strong like his usual ones. You couldn't do this anymore as well. You wanted this to end. You wanted to wake up, to wake up and see Reo and Nagi look over at you as they giggle at how you managed to fall asleep in such a silly position yet the daggers that were taunting your poor heart were real.

"Reo, wash your mouth and drink a bit of water to freshen up all right?" Your voice was soft and caring. You could see a small and broken smile form on his lips. Hope.

Reo did as you said. It was like he was a puppet, he didn't want to do anything yet he still listened to you. You were the only thing he had left. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. After he drinks the water he looks up at you again, waiting for a new command.

"Y/N, I'll get better. For you." He sounds hopeful, his eyes glistening with adoration.

This was your new reality. Yet you didn't mind it if it meant he would get better. Even if it took years, decades, you will help him find himself again, you'll help him become the best player in Japan. You smile at the idea, it was foolish yet your immature reasoning couldn't stop you.

"Are you better, Reo? Think you can sleep?"

"Mhm... But Y/N, you don't mind what I've become? You don't see me as sickening?"

What question was that even? Reo, sickening? You saw him as the most beautiful boy. He was talented, caring, and loving. His voice was soft and sweet. His eyes were enchanting. His hair was soft and smelled of strawberries which he always denied with a small blush. He always knew how to make you laugh, he always protected you. How could he even ask that?

"Y/N?... Ah, I knew you saw me that way. No need to hide it."

"No."

"Huh? What do you?-"

"I love you."

Why did you let those words slip? You're stupid... He'll get even more scared. This is it, you're done-

You hear him...laugh. Ah, so it was funny...good enough... His arms snake around you, holding you close to him. His eyes were gloomy yet a small flicker of fondness fought its way through.

"I love you more Y/N. I'm not in the right state to give you all my love yet...- Y/N I'll be me again, I'll be even better. Just please, wait for me."

That sweet smile you cherished, it was back. Even if it was only for a split second... It's all you need.

"I'll wait for you."

Hope you enjoyed it! If you have any tips on how to improve please do tell. ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 3: The Twins

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Chap. Synopsis: What will happen when Easy Company finally starts getting settled in 2023?

Words: 3,440

Find the fic's navigation page here !!

Have a question/want to be on the taglist? Let me know !!

Author's Note: (Link to picrew in collage) Hey everyone!! I just wanted to say that part of this chapter mentions irl Easy Company and I wanted to emphasize that this work means absolutely NO disrespect to the real veterans - this work of fiction is based solely on the characters in the TV Series 💖

“Well, how do y’all like 2023 so far?” Zay asked over her shoulder, the three arriving at a pair of elevators.

“It’s certainly… something,” Joe replied hesitantly, causing Zay to let out a quiet giggle. The trio made their way back to the emergency room, Zay leading them back to the beds. The nurse stopped at another desk similar to the one Liebgott and Speirs saw before, asking which bed Malarkey was in. After the short conversation, Zay led Liebgott and Speirs through the maze of hospital beds and patients before finally arriving at the rest of Easy Company. They saw Malarkey laying in his bed, the top half of the bed raised so the soldier was sitting up. The rest of the boys were spread around his bed, some in chairs, others standing and leaning against the wall. Zay could barely contain her shock and excitement - ten people from the show that she has seen way too many times, honestly she could probably quote each episode word for word, were right before her. Surveying the men, Zay smiled and put her hands on her hips.

“So this is Easy Company,” she mused before all of the boys who were sitting compulsively shot to their feet, quickly reminding Zay of the strict etiquette rules of their time. She let out a laugh before she said, “Oh sit please! No need to stand on ceremony!” What Zay did not know was that the men were utterly enamoured - they did not know what to make of the nurse. She was unlike anyone any of them had ever met; she was bright, bubbly, outgoing, but exuded an air of openness and authenticity, something that made the boys feel safe and at home, even in such an alien place. One by one, the boys who were sitting slowly sat back down.

Suddenly snapping back into his leadership role, Dick stepped forward and outstretched his hand. “Ma’am, I’m Richard Winters, thank you for meeting with us,” he said politely, trying desperately to hide his nerves. Dick felt something he had never felt before - simultaneously, he felt safe and comfortable, but incredibly nervous, as if he was going to say something wrong. Zay smiled and shook Dick’s hand with a gentle but decisive grip - he could have sworn there was a spark.

“Azalea Bennett! You can call me Zay though,” she introduced herself to the captain. “And I think I know everyone here…” Zay took a survey around the small area sectioned off by rolling curtain dividers. “Looks like we have Lewis Nixon, George Luz, Bill Guarnere, Joe Toye, Bull Randleman, Doc Roe, an injured Don Malarkey,” she pointed to each man as she named him before turning to look beside her. “Joe Liebgott, Ron Speirs,” Zay finally turned to the quiet leader before her, “and captain Dick Winters.” There were mixed reactions from the boys. Most of the company were impressed and amused by the nurse’s memory, while Guarnere and Toye kept their guard up.

“How the fuck do you know our names?” Guarnere asked defensively.

“Don’t swear around the lady Gonorrhea!” Toye scolded as he smacked the man’s arm.

Zay let out another laugh before Guarnere could retaliate at his friend. “Okay, first, I don’t give a fuck if you swear around me,” Zay commented. The twenty eyebrows in the room shot to the ceiling when they heard the lady swear so casually - maybe they might like 2023. “And to answer your question… I’m not really sure how to tell y’all this,” she buried her hands in her shirt pockets, looking at the ground. “So… um…” Zay tried to find her words, the eight soldiers waiting anxiously. “There’s this TV show, called Band of Brothers, that follows the soldiers of Easy Company and all of their missions and challenges as they fight the Germans in Europe.” Zay meekly looked up to survey the boys, trying to gauge their reactions. Some looked at her with their jaws on the floor, unable to believe her words. Others were staring into space, attempting to process the revelation. Speirs and Liebgott were surveying the reactions with Zay, while Malarkey spoke up.

“So, here, we’re all just characters in a TV show?” There was a certain quality to Don’s voice - it almost sounded like disappointment. Back home, or at least in Europe, they were fighting the war to end all wars. Here, they were just some characters on television.

“Well, not exactly,” Zay explained, “your characters are all based on real people that really fought in Europe, y’all are portraying them in the show, telling their stories.”

“So if we looked for them, we could find people with our names?” George asked from beside the hospital bed.

“Well… you’d have to look in cemeteries,” Zay replied solemnly, “the war was eighty years ago, I don’t think anyone from Easy Company is still alive.” Heads nodded in understanding to Zay’s statement. “Do y’all know how you got here? Or how to get back?” Zay asked the men, scanning their faces with her ultramarine eyes. Her eyes may have been framed by her glasses, but they never obscured the authenticity that shone from her expressions.

“Hate to say it, but no, we have no idea how any of this happened,” Nixon spoke up from his spot leaning on the wall.

“So what exactly happened?” Zay replied, stepping a bit closer to the group. The men looked around at each other… who was going to tell her what happened? Would she believe them? Would this be the breaking point?

Eugene spoke up after a beat of silence, “Well, we were in Bastogne, and we started taking hits, so of course I dove into a foxhole. Except, I never hit the bottom…” the medic looked down at his hands, as if this was painful to remember. “It was probably only a few seconds, but honestly, it felt like I was falling for ages, and everything was pitch black,” he mumbled the last part under his breath, “it was terrifying.” Roe took a deep breath and shook his head, shaking away the painful memories. “Next thing I knew, I was landing on the concrete, and all these boys were falling from the sky.” Roe pointed around the room with a small smile on his face, earning a sparse chuckle from the room.

“I saw him fall in and not come out, so I jumped in to try and see what happened, then the same thing happened to me,” Liebgott spoke up from behind Zay. “Then that one landed on top of me,” he pointed at Bull with a smirk. “Don’t know how I didn’t bite it.” The group laughed as Bull shot Joe a wink.

“You’re welcome,” Randleman replied with a laugh.

“Toye and I went in after Bull,” Guarnere chimed in, “then I think Lieutenant Speirs tumbled in after us.” He looked over to Ron, who has been leaning on the wall next to Nixon.

“Yeah, a blast threw me backwards into the foxhole,” the officer explained.

“When I saw him go in I wanted to make sure he was okay, so of course I followed,” Nixon added.

“Of course I couldn’t let him go alone,” Winters interjected with a laugh, giving heart eyes to his best friend.

“When I saw the captain go in, the bombardments finally stopped, so Luz and I ran over to make sure he was okay, but of course that didn’t go as planned,” Malarkey shot a playful glare to Luz, who was sitting on the floor near the foot of his bed.

“I said I was sorry!” Luz held up his hands in surrender. The group let out another laugh - everyone could tell that they were starting to relax in the unfamiliar environment.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how we could get back to our own… time, do you?” Dick asked the nurse, looking at her with shyer eyes than he had intended.

“I have no idea, but I’d be happy to help you figure it out!” she said with a smile, the brightest smile any of the men had seen. “Do y’all have a place to stay?”

“Can’t say that we do,” Winters answered, glancing back at Nixon - the officer nodded his head, affirming Winters’ statement.

“If y’all want, you’re more than welcome to stay with me and my sister,” Zay offered bashfully, her eyes going to the floor. “My sister watches the show, so she’d know you guys too.” Everyone looked to captain Winters to see what his decision was. No one would admit it, but each of the men were hoping that their CO would agree to stay with the blue-haired girl.

Dick took a moment to think it over before he replied, “I’m not really sure if we have any other option.” He smiled and nodded his head at Zay, a silent acceptance of her offer for a roof over their heads and a safe place to sleep.

“Great! My sister’s actually on her way, I’ll talk to the doctor and see if we can get Malarkey discharged,” Zay replied happily, a bounce appearing in her step as she walked off to the desk in the middle of the room.

“I think I might like 2023,” Luz spoke up with a smirk.

“Hey! I saw her first!” Liebgott spoke up indignantly, sending a glare to Luz.

“Men, she is our host here and you will treat her with respect,” Winters scolded his men in a firm tone. Nixon and Speirs could not help but let out a scoff at Dick’s words, both of the officers quickly going to cover their mouths. “What?” Winters prodded, becoming slightly defensive at their antics.

“Dick, we all saw how you looked at her earlier,” Nixon responded in earnest. Before the captain could reply, their modern-times hostess returned to the group.

“Y’all are all set to go! My shift ends in a few minutes, so as soon as my sister gets here we’ll head out,” she explained happily, bubbly energy exuding from her.

“Thank you for helping us,” Eugene spoke up, a humble and thankful expression on his face, “I know you kind of know us, so to speak, but still, to take ten strangers into your home is one of the biggest acts of kindness I’ve seen.” Zay blushed a bright red and turned her gaze to the floor, unable to hide the smile spreading across her face.

“It’s nothing, really,” she replied shyly, “but that means a lot to hear from you.” Zay met Roe’s gaze for a moment before going back to the floor, her blush nearly matching her hair in regards to the saturation of the color. Before anyone could chastise Roe for his (what Roe would call unintentional) flirtations, everyone heard an odd sound come from Zay’s pocket. Only Zay knew that the sound was her cell phone’s ringtone, Somebody to Love by Queen, but all Easy Company heard was an unfamiliar song and the voice of an angel. The nurse pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it up to her ear. “Hey! Are you here?... Great! I’ll meet you by my car! See you in a sec!” Zay tapped the lit-up rectangle before putting it back in her pocket. “My sister Chrys just got here! Stay here, I’ll get my things and then we can head out.” She turned on her heel, her signature bounce appearing in her step. Liebgott waited for the nurse to be out of earshot before turning to the medic seated next to Malarkey.

“TaKiNg StRaNgErS iNtO yOuR hOmE-” Before Liebgott could finish his mockery of Roe, the medic spoke up to defend himself.

“Hey! I’m just trying to be nice!” Eugene rebutted, voice laced with his trademark Cajun accent. Liebgott, Luz, and Roe began to bicker over flirting with Zay, Guarnere and Toye leaning back and watching the show with amusement. Bull looked on at the three arguing as well, waiting to see how things would turn out. Before things got too out of hand, Zay returned, a multicolored backpack slung across her shoulder.

“Alright! Malarkey is free to go! Ready boys?” She asked, clearly trying to contain her excitement. All ten boys felt their hearts warm at the sight. Roe helped Malarkey out of the bed, the redhead starting to stand on his own. Zay led the men to the elevator, the eleven of them packing in like sardines. Zay wound up squished between the corner, Winters, and Luz. She pushed a button on the side with the label “Garage” beside it before she smiled shyly at the men, backing up against the wall as much as she could. Luz and Winters tried to give the girl as much space as they could, but of course, said space was quite limited. While Winters kept his gaze firmly affixed on his feet, as if he would lose them if he looked away, George snuck a glance at Zay, returning her shy smile as he noticed the blush on her cheeks. As soon as her eyes met his, Zay immediately shifted her gaze to the floor, now staring at her shoes just as intently as Winters. Luz had to bite his lip to keep his smile from growing wider. All too quickly the elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal the gray concrete of the hospital's parking garage. The boys filed out quickly, waiting for Zay to lead them to her car.

To anyone else, the group would look like little lost ducklings following their colorful mother duck. A mixture of emotions swam around the group - some were relieved that they found someone who not only knew this time period, but also knew them and liked them. Others were still coming to terms that something as fantastical as time travel happened to the company. How were they going to explain this to the rest of Easy? Or to Colonel Sink? Others in the group continued to be wary of Zay, especially Speirs and Guarnere. While they were greateful for the help, how did they know they could trust her? As for Zay, a mixture of emotions coursed through her body - excitement that she was about to spend time with the people who lived in her head rent-free, joy that she could help people who were need, and a hint of doubt that this was all actually happening… if she told anyone about this, would they believe her?

Zay led the group before everyone noticed the lights illuminate on a yellow car with a soft roof. The car had an emblem with a running horse on the back of it, something that only Zay recognized as a Ford Mustang. As if on cue, a bronze, sleek sports car came around the corner and stopped near the men. Zay put her backpack in her car's trunk before greeting the driver stepping out of the newly arrived Nissan Z-Car. The driver was a woman with short, curly black hair, the bangs and tips dyed bright firetruck red. Her look was punctuated by a pair of minimalist snake-bite piercings beneath her lower lip. The girl was wearing a set of auto-mechanic’s coveralls in classic navy blue, the name “Chrys” embroidered in cursive on the front. Zay engulfed the newcomer in a hug, earning the nurse a mild scolding.

“Zay! You’re gonna make me fall!” the girl laughed before loosely returning Zay’s ambush hug. Zay simply giggled and pulled away enough to talk to the girl, Zay’s arm still wrapped around her shoulder.

“Sorry Chrys! I just got excited,” Zay replied, turning her head to look at the group around her car. “Boys, this is my twin sister Chrys! She was kind enough to take the rest of the evening off work to help y’all get settled,” she announced, looking at Chrys with a proud smile. Chrys offered an awkward wave and a “hello” to the rest of group, not expecting the introduction. The boys replied in greeting before Liebgott spoke up.

“Shit! Captain Winters, we need to get our weapons from up front,” he reported urgently. Zay gave the group a confused look before Joe explained further, “We weren’t allowed to bring our weapons into the hospital, so we stashed them in the bushes up front, we put our helmets there too so we wouldn’t have to carry them.”

Zay nodded in understanding before turning to Chrys, “Do you wanna take half in your car and half in mine, then one of us can put their weapons in the trunk?”

Chrys nodded, turning to the group in front of her. “Alright guys, we gotta split up into two groups for the cars, who wants to go with who?”

“I’ll go with Zay!” Luz volunteered, all too eagerly.

“Me too!” followed Liebgott, glaring at Luz.

Nixon chuckled and shook his head at their antics. “I can go with Chrys,” he offered, meeting her eyes for the first time. Just like that, he knew he needed to know her.

“Me too,” Speirs chimed in. He refused to be in the same car as a bickering Luz and Liebgott.

“Can I just have a front seat, whoever I ride with?” Bull asked around his Emotional Support Cigar.

“Yeah sure, I think my front is roomier,” Chrys replied, Zay nodding along.

“Malarkey, do you and Doc Roe wanna come with me, so that you have medical support just in case anything happens?” The two men nodded in response to her question. Winters simply folded his arms, trying to mask his disappointment with focus. “And then captain Winters can take the last seat in my car, so that we have the officers spread out?” Dick’s eyes lit up at Zay’s offer, trying his best to just act casual.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” he rambled out. “That leaves Guarnere and Toye with Chrys, right?”

“Yeah, I’m good with that,” Guarnere responded. He looked at Toye for his response, who nodded along.

“So it’s Nixon, Speirs, Bull, Guarnere, and Toye with Chrys, and Winters, Roe, Malarkey, Liebgott, and Luz with me, right?” Zay said, confirming the riding arrangements.

“Sounds about right,” Chrys agreed. “Now, just so y’all know, we each only have four seats technically, so someone is going to have to lay across three of y’all in the back.” Some of the men’s eyes grew wide, while others laughed at the notion.

“Enjoy figuring that out, boys,” Bull mused while walking to Chrys’ car. After a few more minutes of discussion and bickering, moderated by Winters, the seating arrangements were agreed upon. In Zay’s car, Malarkey would ride in the front, with Winters, Liebgott, and Roe in the back, Luz laying on top of them. In Chrys’ car, Bull would be in the front, with Nixon, Speirs, and Guarnere sitting in the back, and Joe Toye laying across them. Everyone shifted into their assigned seats/positions, some more willingly than others.

“Someone’s gonna fucking die…” Toye muttered under his breath as he laid across the three men, anger exuding from every pore in his face. Speirs and Nixon were able to keep a straight face, albeit with substantial effort, while Bull simply turned his face away and focused on his ESC. Guarnere, however, could not help the giggles that befell him. The harder he tried to suppress them, the more intense they became. Toye made a mental note to get Gonorrhea back for this…

Meanwhile, in the yellow mustang, Luz was getting situated on his human couch, inadvertently sticking his ass right into Liebgott’s face. “Hey! Watch where you’re sticking that thing!” Joe yelled as he tried to evade touching George’s ass with his face.

“Yeah! That’s a dangerous weapon!” Malarkey called out from his seat up front. Everyone in the car erupted into laughter, save for Luz who shot Don a playful glare.

“I said I was sorry like a million times!” the radioman yelled, sounding very much like a little kid. Once both sisters knew everyone was situated, they drove out of the parking garage. Stopping briefly to place their once-hidden belongings in Chrys’ trunk, the two cars made their way to the twins’ apartment complex. Something that blew the boys’ minds while en route was how the girls played their music during the drive. At first, the men assumed they just had a radio in their cars, which they thought was neat already. However, when Chrys and Zay explained to their respective soldiers how “the cloud” and Spotify work, their minds were utterly blown. This was all the twelve kids talked about as they made their way home.

~~~~~

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Taglist: @b00ks1ut , @blueberry-ovaries , @bucky32557038ww2 , @claudycod , @dontirrigateme , @emilee1421 , @executethyself35 , @hanniewinnix , @ithinkabouttzu , @jump-wings , @love--persevering , @panzershrike-pretz , @stolen94 , @xxluckystrike

As always thank you so much for reading!! Chapter 4 will drop next week 😁💕

[theredhairedmonkey]

I've seen a couple posts treating the TOX game handbook like it's the Bible, that it's an accurate breakdown of the show's main characters, and then fighting about what it all means.

On the one hand, some people are arguing "It says Callum cares more about his inner circle than anyone or anything, so he cares more about his friends than morals." But then others are saying "Rayla's Devotion score is #1, so she cares more about her friends than morals."

So I'm just gonna weigh in and say: Guys, my people, y'all gotta read carefully. Specifically the first paragraph about the main cast:

Fans of The Dragon Prince will recognize these key players in the show! We have assigned all of these die ratings, values, and so forth to reflect where we believe the characters would be at the end of Season Three. This way, should you encounter them in your tales and chronicles, you will feel it reflects the natural place where they are in the story. And though Zym is important, we haven’t included him as a catalyst, as he is still a baby dragon and only Ezran knows what his true die ratings are. Feel free to adjust these aspects for your own playing group, including (but not limited to) when the show’s story advances into future seasons.

In other words: "Here's our breakdown of the characters, but it's just our two cents so take it with a grain of salt, and it's just a snapshot as of s3 and they'll likely change anyway."

In short, don't take it seriously, it's no different than a headcanon about where they stood two years and two seasons ago. Imo the real fun is how the characters line up now as opposed to 3x09, since the whole point is that these values are supposed to change over time:

So, in the spirit of fun, here's where I think each main characters' values stand as of s5:

Callum

Here's Callum in s3:

I think he's the easiest to guess because his character growth lines up with which Arcanum he learns. Because Arc 1 was all about him learning the Sky Arcanum, Liberty represented his most important value ("Destiny is a book you write yourself!"). But as of s5, he has definitely been questioning this ("no matter how hard you try, you'll never control everything"), so this has probably dropped. Meanwhile, I think his learning the Ocean Arcanum has opened him up to understanding hidden depths, so his Truth value would have increased to perhaps being his highest one (similar to Lujanne, whose highest value is also Truth).

Soren

Here is Soren's as of S3:

Soren is also similarly easy to guess. His highest value in S3 is Glory, which I think has definitely stepped down (he was willing to hang back in 5x09 and let the trio fight Claudia while he watches over their friends). Instead, I think his Justice value has shot up, especially in light of his standing up for Elmer ("He deserves dignity!"). By the end of the season, I think his highest values are Justice and Devotion.

Rayla

Here's Rayla in S3:

I think, if anything, Rayla's Devotion score is maxed out, but her Justice score has gone up. Rayla is now even more devoted to Callum than ever, centering everything she does around him and trying her best to be his closest companion. But she's also prioritizing stopping Aaravos over her family, so her sense of Justice is higher too. She might still prioritize Callum over their mission, just not over anyone else.

Ezran

Here's S3 Ez:

Ez is probably the hardest to map, just because he hasn't had many moments of introspection or clear moments of growth. But if I had to guess, I think his sense of Liberty has grown somewhat, especially in light of Soren telling him he should have moments to be a kid lest he "grows up weird."

Claudia

And last but certainly not least:

Like Ez, Claudia's change is kinda hard to pin down mainly because she's remained pretty consistent throughout. If she has changed, she has become even more devotional (representing a dark antithesis to Rayla), while her Liberty score has likely dropped. She is, at least for now, chained to the path she is currently on.

Conclusion

In short, neither mine nor the gamecock author's opinions are authoritative, so YMMV here. Let me know what y'all think, but feel free to disagree and, most importantly, have fun!

[terrainofheartfelt]

Dair + 9

Dair + 9…in public.

I wrote this as a sequel to this flash fiction I wrote for the last time I did a tumblr prompts meme. what can I say, I was inspired. and I could have written a wayyyyyy better breakup arc than the show. there I said it.

it got long (typical) so continue reading the whole bit under the cut &lt;3

The party is already in full swing by the time Dan and his group get there. The subway would have been faster, but someone insisted that the lowest she would stoop to get to Bushwick was a cab. 

“Why did we agree to this again?” Dan asks out of the side of his mouth. 

“Not like she gave us much of a choice,” Vanessa mutters back. “Maybe we can get her to do something really low brow, like drink PBR or sing karaoke.”

Dan snorts, watching as the third member of their reluctant trio stomps into the crowd, clad in the tunic and pleather leggings Vanessa loaned her. 

A lot has happened since Dorota and Vanya’s wedding: Serena skipped town and came back with her dad, Eric hasn’t spoken to Serena since she came back with her dad (or their dad, but only in the biological sense). Vanessa got into Tisch, Dan didn’t. They evaluated their relationship at the three-month mark and decided that it just wasn’t working.

And, strangest of all, in the wake of her breakup—and Dan decking her ex across the face in public—Blair has seemingly attached herself to Dan and Vanessa and NYU as a whole, like she’s using the whole of Greenwich Village as a shield against the reach of Chuck Bass. 

“Hey, by the way,” Vanessa adds under her breath, “Willa is probably gonna make a move on you tonight.”

Dan blinks slowly, unsure how to answer. Breaking up was the right choice, he knows that. He spent most of his time as Vanessa’s boyfriend missing his best friend, Vanessa. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel weird about how she’s been pushing him into the path of other girls ever since. Like he’s a loose end she needs to square away before she starts at Tisch. 

“I’ll try to stick to a minimum six feet distance then.”

“Better make it ten,” Vanessa advises as they approach the bar, “she seemed pretty determined.”

Dan inwardly cringes, then orders two shots of tequila. Tequila and Vanessa have been somewhat of a dangerous combination for him these past six months, but if he’s going to endure the awkward ordeal this party is turning out to be, he cannot be sober for it. 

Vanessa’s pulled into a conversation with other Tisch people soon after, and Dan lets her go and tries not to feel too bitter about it. 

He’d really wanted it, but honestly, he can’t really explain why. He guesses that if he had to, then he’d have to admit it was because if he could break into the prestige of the Tisch name, it would make losing out on Yale sting a little less. Which is just fucking embarrassing—that was a year ago. What is it with Dan’s inability to move on anyway?

“Humphrey,” Waldorf greets him with a cursory nod, “holding the wall up all by yourself?”

He tips his beer bottle towards her. “Tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

She gives him a withering look. Fair, not his best material. 

“This has been a bust so far,” Waldorf declares, unprompted, slumping against the wall next to him. “The so-called art here is terrible, and there isn’t a single guy in this room I would even think about kissing.”

At a loss for how to reply, Dan just asks, “What?”

Waldorf heaves out a sigh. “To get around Chuck’s fatwa? That was the whole point of this exercise, Humphrey!”

He shakes his head, like Waldorf’s obstinance is something that’s possible to shake off. “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“Whatever,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “The point is, no matter what I do, or where I go, he’s just –” she gestures wildly, “there.”

Dan follows the direction of her wave, and nearly spits out his drink when he sees Chuck Bass lurking in the corner. There could only be one reason for Chuck to come to Bushwick, and it’s certainly not to see Willa Weinstein’s performance art on corporate coffee chains.

“That’s…” he trails off, searching for an apt descriptor, “fucked up.”

Waldorf snorts at his eloquence, hands tightening around her elbows. “Yeah. It just – makes it impossible to move on. Him being around all the time.”

Dan looks at her carefully, holding herself in that defeated-yet-determined way she had been at Dorota and Vanya’s game night, and feels that same impulse to reach out, to try and make it better somehow, even though he hasn’t a fucking clue where to start. 

“It’s hard having an ex that’s always around,” he offers, eyes finding Vanessa in the crowd, laughing with the theatrical writing majors they met at the cabaret. “It’s not even that you want them back, you just…could do without your history popping out around any corner.” 

Blair looks at him curiously, her hard protective gaze softening into something more contemplative. Dan gets a sudden flash of deja vu, to a different year, a different heartbreak, a different warehouse wall. 

“For what it’s worth, Blair, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes cast down at the floor, at her boots that are disproportionately expensive to the rest of her outfit. She hasn’t said any more about why she and Chuck broke up, but Dan’s seen enough to know that it must have been really bad. 

“And – you know –” he stammers, “if there’s anything I can do –”

Blair’s eyes shoot back up, questioning. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Yes. Yes that would do it,” she continues, as if that explains anything. “Come on, Humphrey, hop to.”

“I…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to write a sonnet or whatever it is you do. This is just a favor.”

He arches an eyebrow. “A favor would imply that we’re friends. Are we?”

She blinks at him, nonplussed. “Does it matter?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t really care about the answer, it’s just that it’s easier to debate Blair on semantics. It’s a dynamic that makes sense to him. 

“Fine,” Blair huffs, “if it helps you sleep at night, then yes.” She pushes away from the wall, turning to face him. “So?”

Dan blinks. “Like – now?”

“That would be the idea, yes.”

“Okay,” Dan lets out a breath, and turns to face her, eyes dropping to her lips. She is pretty—it’s not like he’s never noticed—and there’s something about seeing her outside her typical Edith Head dress code that heightens it, or shines a light on her from a different angle. Or maybe he’s just drunk. 

He’s apparently stalled too long, because Blair mutters. “Oh, for crying out loud, Humphrey,” and yanks him in by the collar. 

A shock runs through him, then another, then another. First from: oh, she’s kissing him now, then from: oh, he’s kissing Blair Waldorf, then finally: this is actually a really good kiss. 

He opens his mouth on instinct, her lips moving with his. She tastes like cheap booze and expensive lip gloss, like every contradiction and complexity that makes his life interesting, that’s ever made him want to pick up a pen or sit at a keyboard. 

They break away to breathe at the same time, inhaling in tandem. It’s hard to tell in this lighting, but Dan’s sure Blair’s face is ruddier than when he was last looking at her. 

“Thank you,” she says bluntly, stunned.

“You’re welcome,” Dan automatically replies, blinking dumbly as Blair turns tail and disappears into the party. 

He’s going to need another drink. 

[trickster-jpeg]

I Haven't Slept In Days, But Who's Counting.

This is a sequel to another oneshot, so it'll make more sense context-wise if you read that first -> Here

Summary: Steven's tries to carry on hiding his nightmares from Marc and Jake, but after a particularly rough night Marc finds out and tells Jake. The pair confront him and have to comfort him after he breaks down.

Warnings: Nothing major. Brief descriptions of child abuse when Steven talks about one of the nightmares.

Word Count: 8524 It's On AO3 -> Here

A/N: 'Ricitos' is a petname that means 'curly hair', and 'Manitos' means something akin to 'little brother'.

“Steven- I just really think you should tell them. They would want to know, they would want to help you. If anyone can understand what you’re going through, it’s them.”

A few days had passed since ‘the incident’ as Steven was choosing to call it and, despite the continuing insomnia, things were going as well as they could be. Layla had offered to stay a few more days to keep him company, but he knew that there were things she needed to do and being on nightmare watch wasn’t one of them, so he declined. She’d been amazing the past few days, more amazing than she usually was, and as per usual she was like a rock for him to lean on for support which he was extremely grateful for. Regardless of how stupid he thought it might’ve been, she’d listened to whatever he had to say, and when he’d wanted to stay quiet she’d sit with him through that as well. The pair had gone out to spend their last few full days together just wandering around, visiting little cafes and book shops, taking walks for the fresh air. Just spending a moment to simply exist without the threat of the world collapsing around them, real or imagined.

Marc had been out at times as well, just to do his own thing and spend his own time with Layla. It was tricky for the pair at times, given their history, especially at the start once everything had been put on the table. When they'd had a moment to talk about the disorder honestly. But the pair were working or rebuilding things better than they had been, and made new room for Jake and Steven to be included as well if they wanted. Jake still wasn’t fully used to fronting the same way the others were, or for the same lengths of time, so he didn’t appear much. Especially when there wasn’t really anything to do. But after some encouragement from the three, he’d found a new motivation to spend time out and trying to relax after he’d started to realise he wasn’t being subjected to his typical nightmares. Steven had made Layla promise not to tell his headmates.

Which led him back to his predicament.

Telling the other two about his nightmares. It’s not that he didn’t want to, it was just… Maybe that’s exactly what it was in all honesty. How was he supposed to bring it up anyway? “Marc! Jake! Just the people I've been trying to subtly avoid, but you’ve probably noticed that by now. It’s aces that your nightmares have suddenly started to dip in frequency, genuinely so glad that you’re able to have a peaceful nights rest, but that’s actually because they’ve just passed over to me! Surprise!” He’d rather be shot in a pyramid and stuffed into a bloody sarcophagus. Again. But he knew it was only a matter of time before they found out somehow. Which is why he wanted to be the one to tell them.

They’d been trying to work on their communication. Trying to lower the daily amnesia barriers, get more fluid with switching and have more control over it, being able to sit down and talk as a trio. Steven had been doing more research on DID whenever he had the chance. Found it really quite interesting if he was honest, despite not being the biggest psychology buff, but he also had a tendency to fixate and overload himself with the information and that tended to trigger some doubt in him about the whole thing. Something he read was completely normal for people like him- them- but it was still frustrating to have to stagger his questions just so he could safely process basic information.

One thing in particular caught his eye during the deep dives though. Innerworlds. He read about how they were this visualisation thing, like the mind palace in Sherlock. That they could help to provide a space for communication, like properly interacting with each other in a way that wasn’t just staring into a mirror and hoping someone responded with the reflection. It had taken a while to work on actually putting the concept into practice, to actually try and visualise it in a way that didn’t make them feel like they were just daydreaming, but they’d done it. Slowly but surely, they’d started to make it work. Their innerworld was nothing fancy, at least not for now. In a way, they found it somewhat easier to simply have a replica of their flat as a hub of safety, or a meeting place to be used when needed. And Steven had reluctantly deduced that this was one of the times it was necessary to use it as a meeting place.

It would take him a while to gather up the nerve to start the conversation. Overthinking was a special talent of Steven’s and he could spend years trying to plan every single possibility. To sit down and focus, the build up to opening up to the people he always told shouldn’t feel ashamed to talk about their troubles. It really was easier said than done when none of them had really been properly taught how they were supposed to do that, but Steven tried to think of it as a learning experience. He could lead by example. Maybe. Hopefully.

However, like many things in their life, the choice was ultimately made for Steven and left him a complete lack of control over the circumstances that led up to the others finding out.

It had been a week since Layla had left their flat. A week of being alone in the empty darkness of his room. A week of looping audiobooks and fidgeting with rubik's cubes and leaning over books under a lamp only to pass out on the desk after succumbing to sleep’s cruel lullaby. He’d been coping as well as he could. Sometimes staying on the phone with Layla until he felt safe enough to sleep again. Or at least until he pretended to because he didn’t want to keep her up anymore than he’d already been doing. Eventually it had to come to a close. It always did. And this time it really was Steven’s fault.

As a rule, Steven tended to avoid drinking. Never really saw much of an appeal apart from some of the ones that tasted nice. He didn’t like the loss of control. Something about it just made him extremely uncomfortable, not that he understood why until he’d found out about their mum’s drinking habits. But he knew Marc drank, albeit sometimes unhealthily, and so eventually he concluded that they’d have the same type of tolerance given the fact that it was the same body. He was still getting used to it, finding it easier to just continue avoiding the substance without any qualms, but occasionally he’d partake.

This was one of those nights. He knew it wasn’t exactly the healthiest of ideas to start drinking with the intent of using it to get him to sleep, but it would just be a one time thing. Honestly. He just wanted to see if it would do anything. If it would help ease him into the action without hours of anxiety spirals to keep him awake. So, he picked up the bottle of hard liquor that he knew Marc had stashed in the back of one of the cupboards in the kitchen and took a large mouthful of it.

His immediate reaction was repulsion, the instant impulse to try and spit out the liquid that felt like it was numbing his tongue, but he powered through it and swallowed hard. The burning sensation that scraped down his throat was strong enough to cause his eyes to water almost immediately afterwards and he jolted forward to grab a half empty glass of water that had been left out on the kitchen top. He felt the alcohol settle heavily in his stomach, an empty feeling that made him realise he had forgotten to eat anything that wasn’t a small snack or two throughout the day.

Overall, it was an unpleasant experience that he would rather not repeat or continue doing. But the distraction of the alcohol scratching at his throat would probably be enough to draw his focus away from the anxiety his nightmares caused, which is why he made the great decision to take another few large mouthfuls from the bottle before setting it down and flopping into bed. Enough to make a small, yet notable difference in the contents of the bottle. He grimaced and coughed as the liquid burned down his throat again, pulling a slightly disgusted face as he realised he could smell it quite intensely on his breath.

After about ten to fifteen minutes of lying in bed, waiting for the pain to dull down slightly, he started to feel somewhat dizzy. Like a mild vertigo, almost like dissociating in a way. In an attempt to settle the feeling slightly, he closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, counting the beats between each inhale and exhale like sheep. His mind started to drift as he focused on the waviness of it all, the floating sensation creeping into his brain as he felt himself lean deeper into the mattress. Gradually, he stopped being aware of his behaviour, his thoughts, the waking world. Apparently a mixture of sleep deprivation, alcohol, and lack of food made a great recipe for sleep.

From Marc’s detailed experiences of drinking and sleeping, alcohol made dreams more vivid. It also made them way more memorable when he woke up from them. And usually, it was more likely to be nightmares than dreams when alcohol had a part to play in the events leading up to sleep. Sometimes it would be more trauma-centric nightmares, but usually 3.5 out of 5 times it was some random bullshit nightmare that most of the general population gets. Something mundane like accidentally yanking his teeth out and swallowing them or something. The point was, it was fairly easy to tell when a dream was influenced by alcohol or if it was just a typical, regular dream. Which is why he was so disoriented when he woke up with sweat soaking their bedsheets and his chest heaving painfully as he tried to draw in the breaths he didn’t even know he was lacking.

He tasted the liquor he’d bought himself, coating his mouth and mixing with the flood of saliva as he jolted to grab the bin they kept beside their bed to heave into, watching as the majority of his stomach contents turned out to be the alcohol. A sight not quite shocking to him, borderline familiar with the amount of times it happened to him in the past, but still confusing. Confusing because he could’ve sworn he hadn’t had anything to drink. That he hadn’t fronted for pretty much the entire day so unless he’d had a full blackout of his own memories, he hadn’t touched the bottle. And he knew that Jake hadn’t been the one to drink it either, simply because he knew that the man hated his choice of liquor and wouldn’t voluntarily drink it unless he was forced to, and even then he’d have tried to buy some before falling back on Marc’s stash. Which just left one other person to blame. Steven.

Why the hell would Steven be drinking? He hates drinking. Or at least hates drinking this stuff.

As Marc continued to retch into the bin, a worry started to overshadow the initial confusion he was feeling. It didn’t make any sense. The man never went out of his way to buy or drink, and when he did he always went for the softest stuff. The stuff that barely tasted like alcohol, just fruit or sugar. He’d made it clear time and time again that he’d hated the feeling of it, hated the taste, hated the aftermath. Hated everything about it. Which is why Marc just couldn’t understand why Steven would feel the need to drink so much of this stuff. Surely the Brit would’ve tried to speak to Marc or Jake if there was something going on, right?

Suddenly feeling unsure about his headmate’s transparency, he started to try and remember any signs in the past few weeks that something was wrong with Steven. Briefly, he got glimpses of the man falling back into his old habits of trying to avoid sleep. Of not eating as much as he usually would, or leaving the house as often as he did. Of watching their phone and waiting silently for it to stop ringing and for the familiar contact of Layla to disappear from the screen. Then he thought about last week. Something recent came to mind. Something hazy. They were sitting on the floor. Reading something- No. Being read to. Marc didn’t understand the words but he knew the voice speaking them. Felt the panic dying down as Steven realised who it was as well.

He needed to call Layla.

Without looking, he reached over to the side table to grab at the phone he knew would be there with one hand as he placed the bin in the other hand now that he was confident there was nothing left for him to throw up. The bright light from the screen blinded him for a moment as he scrambled to turn down the brightness, cursing the Brit quietly for his adamance at having the setting so high all the time. After a moment of letting his eyes readjust to the sight of it, he opened his contacts and hit the dial button over his wife’s name. A moment of regret and remorse flickered in his chest as he looked up at the time on the top of his screen reading ‘02:38’. Maybe he should’ve waited until the morning to figure this out rather than disturbing her sleep and waking her up at this time for such a petty reason-

“Hello? Steven? Marc?... Jake?”

A wave of familiarity washed over him as he heard her tiredly croak out a response over the line, clearly having just been woken up by the phone. He hesitated for a moment before realising he should probably start speaking.

“Hey, it’s me- Marc-”

“I may have just woken up but I can still tell that it’s your voice, Marc. You don’t have to tell me. We’ve been married for about ten years.”

He pauses awkwardly, mentally kicking himself for his stupid attempt at trying to help her as though she hadn’t spent a decade waking up to hearing his voice. Clearing his throat, still raw from the alcohol going in and then out of his system, he swallows before continuing.

“I know it's late, didn’t realise until i’d already hit the call button. I wouldn’t have phoned if it wasn’t important, or at least I’m pretty sure it’s important-”

“Marc, I love you and I'm listening but I'm still incredibly tired. Could you maybe skip to the reason you’re calling me at… two in the morning?”

He stays silent for a moment or two, apologetic that he woke Layla up at this hour, but also more apprehensive to speak the words out loud. As if the reality of the situation, of the things he’s thinking, will settle in and manifest. That it’ll be real once he says it. Taking another deep breath, his throat feeling slightly strangled as he forces the words out of his mouth.

“Steven was drinking. I don’t know why, I just know that I woke up in a pile of sweat, having one of the worst panic attacks I've had in a while, promptly followed up by me puking my insides out and seeing he’s barely eaten anything all day. And a nightmare that I know was about our childhood that I can’t even remember to top it all off. I just- I thought if he’s spoken to anyone about any of this… it would be you.”

The line was silent for a while, the only clue that Layla was still there and that it hadn’t hung up or frozen was her muttered swears that the microphone just barely managed to pick up. He heard a brief shuffling, almost as though she was moving around to sit up in bed or something. Another few moments of silence passed before she spoke hesitantly, her tone reluctant but much more awake than it had been. Much more alert.

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything… He said he’d- Never mind. I don’t really know how to say this, it’s not my thing to say but if he’s getting to this point instead of talking I-”

The confusion and worry in Marc’s mind only stood to grow even more at the vague words. What was Steven not telling them? What could be so bad that he’s made Layla promise not to say anything? All members of the system had the understanding that there was a level of confidentiality between some of their personal conversations with Layla. If they wanted or needed to tell her something, or just didn’t want the other two to know about it, then they wouldn’t ask her. A mutual respect that they wouldn’t pry into things or try to force their partner to talk about things that didn’t concern them unless it was important enough for them all to know. And to Marc, this seemed like it was something pretty fucking important for them to know about.

“What? What do you mean ‘not your thing to say’? ‘Getting to this point’? Layla, what's wrong with Steven? I mean he knows he can talk to us about things, he’s always going on about being open and honest and how things are better when we all work together to try and solve them so what could be so bad that he’s hiding things from us-”

“He’s been having nightmares, Marc. About your childhood. About your trauma. He’s been having nightmares and flashbacks.”

As Layla cuts his ramblings off and tells him the truth, he’s stunned into silent shock. It's almost like the words just don’t process in his mind. At least not for the first minute or so after he’d heard them. Like his brain just refused to acknowledge them as the truth, or even just as a possibility at all. He almost asked her to repeat what she’d said, to give her the opportunity to say something else. Almost hoping that what she’d said was a mistake, or that he’d just misheard her. Until they actually started to settle in his head.

Steven had been having nightmares. Their Steven. He’d been having nightmares. He’d been having their nightmares. Marc and Jake had finally been freed from them, celebrating and joking between themselves that they’d been given a ‘mini restbite’. And Steven had been forced to deal with them instead. The Steven that would take their place and stay up for hours after they’d jolted awake to reassure them they were alright. The Steven that would talk outloud and describe every single item and object in their flat, as well as the layout of the floors, if it meant that they could believe they were safe and in their own home, not stuck in that house with their mother. The Steven that once decided to make a crappy little blanket fort at three in the morning for Jake because the man had been borderline inconsolable after he had screamed himself awake as a result of a particularly brutal nightmare. And now the same man was trying to brave his way through it all on his own, and had been doing so for months, all while Marc and Jake had been none the wiser..

“You need to talk to him about it, Marc. All three of you. He thinks that- He doesn’t want you to see him as a burden. Thinks that if he proves he can handle this on his own then he can prove he’s ‘contributing’ to the system, taking responsibility. That you’ll stop trying to keep things from him or I guess treating him like a child.”

Marc sits in a stunned silence as he listens to Layla speak, thoughts spinning like a tornado in his head. That couldn’t- That couldn’t be right. Steven doesn’t really think that. Doesn’t really believe that. Right? He couldn’t. But it was true in some way, they did keep things from him. They did treat him like a kid. Even if that was never their intention, they did it all the same. Falling into old habits of trying to keep his innocent naivety protected, keep him protected. And it’d backfired and made the man feel like he had to prove something to them. That he had to suffer in silence to be treated the same.

The stark realisation made Marc’s stomach lurch with nausea as he swallowed back the urge to gag, trying to suppress the growing pit in his stomach that had opened up like a sinkhole. His immediate reaction was that of self hatred, of anger, of a need to punish himself for not realising sooner or for making his headmate feel like that. But he knew that was no good, and it was probably the exact reaction that Steven had being trying to avoid by not telling him.

He sat in silence for a moment longer, not being able to think of the words he could use to formulate a response. Layla knew him well enough to understand that, even over the phone. He nodded slightly to himself as he continued to process her words, a small hum escaping his lips. Mumbling a tired but appreciative thanks to his wife, he makes the promise to fill her in on the aftermath before hanging up the phone with a mumbled ‘love you, thank you’. As per usual, she was right. They did need to talk. Sooner rather than later. Now.

Usually he wasn’t the one to initiate the contact in the innerworld, meditation like things having never really worked for him, but drastic times called for drastic measures and what better time to put this into practice than now. He took a few deep breaths, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts and feelings on the situation. Steven needed stability, reassurance that he could talk. Having a major freak out and blaming himself would only make the Brit want to comfort Marc and focus on him rather than the real issue centred around him. He just had to fill Jake in on the situation before. He knew the man would appreciate the forewarning, plus it would give them a better chance at being able to help Steven in a way that didn’t make him feel cornered.

Leaning back in bed, he slowly took some deep breaths and closed his eyes, just like Steven had told him to do when explaining it all, and tried to reach out to Jake. The man hated the use of mirrors most of the time, hating how jarring it was to be perceived, but Marc also just couldn’t be asked to get up out of bed and walk to a reflective surface. It only took a moment or two for Jake to surface, the man always on the wings somewhere in case he needed to jump in at a moment’s notice. He blinked his eyes open as he adjusted to the shift in his surroundings, stood next to the sofa in their innerworld flat instead of laying with closed eyes in bed. Beside him, Jake sat on the chair polishing his boots with a calmed expression, glancing up at Marc once he noted the man’s presence. Awkwardly, Marc just stood there for a moment, looking around the room as he tried to figure out what small talk he should try and make before leading into the main issue.

How the fuck was he supposed to start this conversation?

“So… How’s the weather been lookin-”

“Just spit it out, Manito, I don’t bite.”

Instantly, Marc clenched his jaw and drummed his fingers on his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to combat the self-consciousness as he became aware of how he was just standing in the middle of the room. His eyes flickered back and forth between the other man, his boots, and the fish tank bubbling away in the background as Gus and Gus swam calmly as he tried to figure out how to formulate his sentences. They really needed to get better names for the fish. He bit his lip as he stood there in silence, chewing at the slightly cracked skin and trying to bite it off. As he tasted iron, he opened his mouth to respond.

“Steven’s been having the nightmares. Our nightmares. Having our flashbacks too. For months. He was drinking my stash before he went to sleep tonight. Layla’s seen him wake up screaming bloody murder after thinking he was still stuck in a dream.”

Jake’s hands stilled as he wiped the remnants of the boot polish over the material, his reaction perfectly frozen in a way that Marc assumed meant his thoughts had started to spiral immediately like his had when he’d found out. It also meant he was also trying to figure out what to do next. Just like Marc had. After a few moments, the cab driver gently placed the cloth down and started to nod quietly, processing the information he’d just been given. It was clear he was still trying to wrap his head around it, and so Marc spared him from having to try and speak, electing to continue his words.

“Apparently he said he’d talk to us, but I think we need to start the conversation first. She- Layla said that he’s trying to show his contribution to the system or something. That we’ve been treating him like a kid by trying to keep him safe from things. That we’ve been leaving him out. Making him feel like a- like a burden.”

Jake continued to nod, somewhat more forceful as Marc continued to talk. His eyes widened ever so slightly as his body language grew into a more spread out and tense defensive stance, his eyes scanning over the table back and forth as he did. Reaching up to remove his cap, he ran gloved hands through his hair and out of his face roughly, sitting back and looking up at Marc as he held the accessory in his hand like a lifeline. His jaw clenched a few times, his back cracking as he straightened his spine slightly. After a few more moments of silence, Jake took a deep breath and swallowed, staring off at the empty desk that sat tucked next to the stacks of books. A beat or two passed before he stood up, looking to the other side of the room as though staring at someone. As Marc followed his gaze, he had to mask his shock as suddenly sat in the uncomfortable desk chair was the main focus of their conversation: Steven.

The Brit was hunched over a book, reading as though nothing was happening until the confusion hit him and he looked up with a disorientated expression. Spinning around on his chair, his eyes immediately landed on the two men who were looking… worse for wear. That being said, Steven probably wasn’t looking so great either. He looked down at his clothes and realised he was wearing the black sweatshirt and joggers he had been wearing when they were stuck in the asylum. His hands were mostly covered by the sleeves being pulled up over them and as he reached up to brush his curled fringe out of his face. The dark strands felt greasy and knotted in his fingers, and he was suddenly very aware of how awful his face felt. He felt the weight beneath his eyes, dark circles sitting beneath them. His cheeks feeling somewhat sunken, and the rest of his face feeling oily. He felt like shit. He was literally projecting how he felt and he couldn’t get it to stop.

Suddenly, he started to feel extremely vulnerable as he looked at the other two men, his legs bouncing nervously. He felt like a bug under a microscope, like he was about to be pinned to a canvas frame. The more he looked at them, the more he realised he’d been brought here on purpose, the way the Americans were glancing at one another and back at him as if they knew something. Like they were trying to silently argue about something. Something to do with him. Why was he here? It’s not like they had anything important to Steven, they never included him with that kind of thing so why-

In an instant, his heart stopped dead, his spine straightening and body tensing as he frantically looked at the pair as if he’d just been struck by lightning. He felt himself rocking back and forward in the chair ever so slightly, counting slowly as he tried to focus on his breathing. Was it even possible to have a panic attack on the innerworld? It felt like he was about to find out. He blinked desperately, hoping that with enough force he could try to escape this situation and take over the body to get out.

They knew. Somehow his headmates had found out about him. About his situation. How? Or- Maybe they didn’t. Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe if he tried to play it off and fake ignorance then he could get out of it. Maybe they only realised he was withdrawn and they were none the wiser about his-

“We know about the nightmares, Steven. Layla told us.”

For a brief moment, he felt a pang of betrayal in his chest towards her. He’d made her promise she wouldn’t tell them so why on earth would she-

“I woke up throwing up all the liquor you’d drank on an empty stomach, bedsheet drenched in sweat, on the tail end of the worst panic attack I've felt in months. Of course I was going to call the only person who would have any inkling as to what the fuck was going on with you. What were you thinking? Why would you-”

Marc was cut off by Jake lightly stamping on his foot in a clear signal for him to stop talking and calm down, clearly having realised how the man’s worry was definitely coming off as confrontational instead of reassuring. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to reset his attitude, before looking back at Steven with a stern but slightly apologetic gaze. Clearing his throat stiffly, he walked over to Steven and sat a few feet away from him on the floor to give him space. Jake followed suit behind him and sat on a small table to the side of him, just barely above Steven’s natural sitting eye level. The three men sat in quiet for a few more moments, before Marc spoke up once more and broke the silence.

“We’re… sorry. I’m sorry. We thought we were doing right by you and clearly it did the opposite. You never should’ve been made to feel like you couldn’t talk to us and- Yeah. I’m sorry, Steven. Genuinely.”

Silently, Jake nodded along with the man as he watched Steven’s eyes shift around looking at the floor. A minute of silence passed as the Brit let the words sink in. They were apologising… To him. A part of him wanted to backpedal, immediately try to reassure the two men that it was no harm done and that he knew it wasn’t deliberate. But another part of him was just tired. Tired for the months of struggling silently, albeit because of his own choice to try and hide it, but he still felt like he wasn’t worth the fuss that would be caused if he spoke up. And they were apologising for it. Eventually, after another minute or two, he looked up at the pair with red rimmed eyes slowly filling with tears. His voice shook slightly as he spoke, there was no point trying to hide it anymore because they saw him in the same way he felt. They knew the way he felt because they’d felt it as well at some point.

“How do you do it? How do you both cope with it so well?”

There was a brief moment of shock that crossed their faces at Steven’s question. Marc’s expression leaning towards reluctant realisation at how the man saw the pair at the words, and Jake’s steering more towards a neutral acceptance of his perception. Neither of them looked as though they agreed with the wording of Steven’s inquiry. Marc spoke up once more to answer the man nonetheless, Jake taking over once he stops.

“We can’t cope with it, Steven. We just grit our teeth and push through it. You want to know how we can do it? You. You’re the reason we can survive it.”

“He’s right, ricitos. We don’t know how to look after ourselves in the way that lets us live. Without you we’re just barely existing. You look after us. Love us. Support us. You’re everything to us, and we’re sorry that we’ve made you feel like you’re not.”

As they both watched Steven react to their words, they could’ve sworn they felt their hearts break in that single moment. At the realisation on how the men viewed him, Steven’s disbelief started to melt into something almost sobering. His brows lowered, rising slightly on the inner parts showing the clear frown lines on his forehead. He gently caught the bottom of his lip between his teeth for a moment as the corners of his mouth tilted downwards into a stunted frown. His eyelids drooped slightly as the redness lining the rims were contrasted against the purple bags beneath his eyes, shimmering slightly under the dim light as tears started to delicately stream down his face. They watched as his lip quivered ever so slightly as his eyes downcast to his hands that were clasping one another, wringing together as he let the words wash over him. As he sniffled quietly, he bit his lips together into an even clearer frown, the lines that usually showed from him smiling too much framed them painfully. In a shaky voice, he eventually spoke up.

“I just thought that the alcohol might make it easier to fall asleep. That it would… I don’t know. Distract me from my anxiety or something. Didn’t realise I had forgotten to eat until I’d already started drinking. It was absolutely minging, just for your information. Don’t know how you can drink that stuff. I won’t- I’m not going to do it again though. And thank you. For apologising. I appreciate it a lot.”

They sit in silence for a few more moments before Marc speaks up, somewhat nervously. Afraid of something. Insecure about himself, about the possibility of messing up this fragile interaction by saying the wrong thing.

“You could’ve asked us to stick around. Just to keep you company getting to sleep- You still can. It might be kind of a shitty downfall of this disorder, but in some cases never really being alone might be a bit of a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Neither would Jake.”

He looks up and over his shoulder from his seat on the floor to see Jake giving the gentlest smile he’s ever seen from the man in a reassuring manner to both Steven and Marc, nodding slowly in agreement to the man’s words. Steven focuses on the gloved man while thankfully flashing a weak smile towards him, replicating it as he looks down to Marc. He wipes his dripping nose on his oversized sleeve before grimacing slightly in brief disgust at his own action before responding.

“I just didn’t want you to worry about me. I… I thought it might make you treat me like a child even more. I didn't want to be babied- Even if you never meant it like that it just- It just really started to piss me off, if i’m being honest. I just want to be treated the same as you treat each other.” He pauses to take a steady inhale before flashing a friendly smile to the pair, almost endearing in his own way. “I’m an adult, lads. A grown man, same as you. I don’t care if you keep me out of… ‘darker’ conversations. If it’s something I shouldn’t know yet, that it would be bad for me to know about just now, I wouldn’t mind. But it feels like it’s all of the- all of the trauma. All of the time. Sure, I didn’t know about it until recently, but that doesn’t mean I’m still clueless. I mean, hell, how can we even be sure that there are pieces of it that I know about but you both don’t. Did you ever think about it like that? What if I’d been the one to trigger something in the both of you because I just assumed it was common knowledge that you both knew? It’s not a one way street, you know.”

There was a slight shift in the air as Steven concluded his words, the Americans glancing at each other in apprehension as they realised that their headmate could be right. They really didn’t know what Steven knew and what he didn’t because they’d tried to keep him out of the conversation. Which meant that there was a genuine possibility that he might know something they weren’t aware of. Something he might’ve experienced on his own in their childhood and just repressed it so none of them knew about it. It was a quiet fear that they’d never known they shared, or even had, until that very moment. Trying not to dwell on it too much, at least not for now, they turned back to the Brit with matching sombre yet genuinely understanding expressions, having begun to listen and acknowledge the crying man’s points.

“What was- You don’t have to answer this- You might not even remember it but- That night with Layla. When you had the nightmare… What was it about? Layla didn’t tell me anything about it, just that it was the worst she’d seen in a while. That she actually thought it was me or Jake for a second before you started speaking.”

The Brit looked towards Marc in surprise at the revelation, the past betrayal he’d briefly felt against Layla being completely washed away at the realisation she’d really only told her husband the bare framework. Just enough to fill him in on the situation and get the ball rolling. It was a feeling quickly squashed by the dread that appeared at the thought of talking about the nightmare. A new found fear that he might be telling them something they didn’t know about. He could suddenly understand why they had been reluctant to include him in these types of conversations. Why both men were still so guarded, even to each other, when it came to the trauma they shared and spoke about if they spoke about it at all.

But he’d always been the one to say they should talk about it. He’d literally just made an entire little speech about how they should include him when talking about this stuff. If anything, this would be an olive branch. To consolidate that Steven shouldn’t be excluded, not that he needed to give a reason to prove his point. He didn’t have to share if he really didn’t want to. The three of them understood that things like this shouldn’t be pushed. Shouldn’t be forced. Enough of their shared lives had been forced and taken out of their control so, as a baseline of respect, they always gave that choice to say no and back out at any time. Which is why Steven felt safe enough to make the choice to tell them.

“It was about mum. I’m assuming they usually are.” He pauses to read the pair’s expression, feeling slightly discouraged as they huffed sad laughs in agreement but also like there was a new found solidarity with even just a small half joke like that. “We were in the car. I don’t remember a lot of it to be fair, It was quite a bit ago. She started shouting things at me, starting screaming. Started to speed up. Started to swerve the car in the road. Started to scream about crashing and getting rid of us both, let go of the wheel and I just remember the fear and the panic and just the realisation that I was about to die. I thought I was going to die right there. Thought that was it. That if the crash didn’t kill me it was going to be my heart exploding right out of my chest because I couldn’t breathe and I was crying too much.” His expression turned to a devastating revulsion as more tears streamed down his face, a brief sob getting trapped in his throat before he continued to talk. “I don’t remember most of it but the one thing I can remember thinking the clearest was how worried I was that she would get in trouble for her driving. I was convinced I was about to die, and I was still worrying about her and what would happen to her if someone saw her driving like that- She tried to kill me- Kill us- And I was thinking about her fucking reputation- What the fuck is wrong with me- Why did I- I couldn’t- I don’t know- How could I-”

By the time Steven started to reach the end of his recount of the nightmare, he was clearly working himself up into a frantic state. The pair watched worriedly as their headmate started to breathe heavier and heavier, spiralling into the start of a panic attack. In an attempt to prevent it before it got any worse, they moved closer to him. Marc started quietly mumbling hushed reassurances, knowing exactly how painful it was to still love the person that had put them through more than any child should have to bear. On the other hand, Jake decided to pass Steven’s plushie to him and drape a blanket over the man’s shoulders to add a comforting bit of pressure in the hopes of grounding him. He didn’t share the connection to Wendy that the other two men did. Saw her as nothing more than the woman that made their lives a living hell. In his eyes she was even less connected to him than a stranger. Maybe when they were younger he might’ve felt something different, but he grew out of that as soon as he could. While Marc tried to reassure the Brit with a unique understanding that they were both extremely familiar with, he moved over to the space that had been designated as their living room and started to move around doing his own thing. As he did so, he picked up on their close but distant conversation.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Steven. There will never be anything bad about the fact that you are so capable of loving people.”

“The things she- It’s not- It’s sick that I still-”

“She’s our mom. All of the bad outweighs the good by tenfold, but that doesn’t mean that we can just forget about all of the good. It would be easier if it was all bad. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with this. But you are not at fault for being human and still loving the good things about her. The good things that we experienced.”

“It hurts so much- Why did she have to-”

“I don’t know, Steven. I don’t know.”

Jake quickly glanced over as he heard their interaction tamper down in volume to see them holding each other, clinging to one another like a lifeline. He was never one for physical contact, not really. That's what happens when you’re brought into a life that so sorely lacks it. Its hard to miss what you’ve never really had, and that’s why even when given the option in the past he’d never really accepted it. The few times he had had been damn near crushing when it was over. Any other physical contact was never good news, and it was never a choice. But as he looked at the two men, he almost felt a longing to be included. To walk over there and hug the pair. He couldn’t tell if it was fully for their benefit, or if there was an almost selfish ulterior motive for himself as well though. He looked down to the pillows in his hands and started to speed up the process of finishing his idea, placing them in the spot he deemed to be the best and shift one of the blankets to the side.

A few more minutes passed before Steven had started to calm down, a wave of exhaustion washing over him as his tears slowed to a stop. Marc’s arms stayed wrapped firmly around him, sniffling slightly as the Brit realised his counterpart had at some point also started crying alongside him. He squeezed the man tighter for a moment, a brief reassurance to him that Steven was there for him as well. That they weren’t going to suffer with this alone. It was then that he also realised the distinct lack of their third headmate, the man having seemingly disappeared from their close proximity. With a fleeting moment of panic, his head jerked up to cast a look around the visible areas of the flat to find him. Marc pulled back with a confused face before arriving on the same train of thought and joining his short search, their shared worries quickly subsiding as they saw the man looking over at them with an amused but warm smile and motioning for them to go over to him.

Groaning slightly at the strain in his joints, Marc used Steven as a bit of leverage to pull himself upwards from his uncomfortable kneeling position on the floor. He wrapped an arm around the man’s torso lightly without a word, pulling him close as they moved to walk over towards Jake. He softly tried to secure the blanket around the Brit’s shoulders as they made their way towards him to stop it from falling onto the floor. The man had put his plain, dark flat cap back on and was trying to hide the half proud, half nervous look on his face as he stared over to the sofa and back at the two men to watch their reaction closely.

Somehow, in the time that Marc had managed to calm down Steven and simultaneously have his own emotional breakdown after seeing so much of his own inner struggles in Steven, Jake had managed to rearrange the furniture and construct a makeshift fort from blankets and pillows. It was clearly rushed, but still surprisingly well built with a sturdy structure. He’d even used the duvet and pillows from their bed. Small battery powered tea lights were dotted around the outsides, as well as a few on the inside, that somehow gave it a warmer feeling. It was a perfect haven that faced the television that hummed with life, the images on the screen gently shifting with a low volume to accompany them. Connected to the television via an old DVD player they'd recently found was one of Steven’s comfort films: Matilda. The pair faltered in their step at the sight of it all. At the safety that just radiated from the space that Jake had created for them all.

The man in question’s face contorted slightly into a rarely displayed uncertainty, a worry that the other men didn’t like it. It wasn’t often that Jake really doubted himself. There was never really time for that, never a room for error when the majority of his past life experiences had been born out of a final surge of pure instinct to survive. So when he couldn’t read the pair’s expressions, only seeing the tears and exhaustion from moments earlier, as well as the shock on their faces at the sight, he started to shift nervously from one foot to the other. He wasn’t good at physical affection, wasn’t the best at words of reassurance, especially when the subject matter was an incredibly personal and unique feeling that he wasn’t quite aligned with. He’d always heard the expression ‘actions speak louder than words’ and in that moment he was desperately hoping that his actions said the things he wanted to tell the other men. So when he saw the smiles that broke out onto their faces, he couldn’t help but earnestly mirroring it back at them.

Without any words being exchanged, they all moved to situate themselves in the centre of the fort, Steven in the middle being flanked comfortably by his headmates. Jake reached to turn the volume up just ever so slightly, so they wouldn’t be stuck just reading the captions alone. They all shuffled comfortably under the blankets, the Brit almost fully covered while the Americans stuck at least one or two limbs out from beneath the material to avoid feeling too overheated or trapped. The film continued to play as the three situated themselves in a close pile, Marc holding and leaning into Steven while Steven threw an arm over his and leaned into Jake’s side. Expectantly, he looked up at the cab driver before smiling, clearly pleased with himself as Jake threw an arm around him that reached over to Marc as well. It took a few moments for Jake to relax but eventually the tension bled from him as he leaned into Steven’s side as well. He traded a quick glance over the Brit’s head towards Marc and saw the man looking equally content with the situation and how it had played out.

As the film progressed, the three of them gradually started to feel themselves drift off into varying levels of sleep. Steven had been the first to nod off, barely making it more than fifteen minutes before the comfort of the two men either side of him combined with the exhaustion of bearing his soul caught up with him and lulled him into unconsciousness. Marc, having also not escaped the weariness that came as a side effect of heavy crying and emotional fatigue, drifted asleep about five minutes after Steven had. Jake on the other hand had kept awake until the credits to the film started playing, splitting his attention between the plot of the movie and watching over the two men sleeping beside him. Slowly, he reached to grab the remote, desperately trying to avoid waking up the other men as he clicked onto the menu screen and clicked the play button to restart it. He could understand why Steven liked the film.

[vixenpen]

Our Year Eddie Munson x Black fem reader (pt. 5)

Eddie’s POV

Fucking perfect.

Was all he could think as he watched the jocks swagger into the gym like they were the fucking mage kings of the court or something.

Eddie grimaced, but tried to ignore the douchebags making eyes at whoever they were screwing on the squad currently. He was only concerned with you.

He turned back to see a few of your squad mates giving him dirty looks and the way they were eyeing you wasn’t much better.

Ever the pro, you kept a smile in place as you called out the cheers. He tried to focus on you and smiled. You looked great out there. Your brown skin had barely broken a sweat and your movements weren’t nearly as stiff as the other girls.

Man, just looking at you made everyone else fade away for Eddie. He leaned his elbows back on the bleachers behind him as a goofy grin lit up his face. Eddie Munson was whipped and he didn’t care who knew it.

Matter of fact, he was so caught up in you that he didn’t see the hoop heads looking his way.

“Alright, ladies, that’s it for today. Great job! We’re already looking strong! Let’s keep up the good work next practice. Get home safe everyone.”

With a clap of her hands, the girls and a sprinkle of guys on the team dispersed toward their waiting bags or their boyfriends. A few of them headed for the locker room. Y/n headed straight for Eddie who straightened up who wrapped her in a big hug.

“Great job out there, babe.”

“Thanks, Eddie bear,” you giggled as he kissed your forehead. “Where are the kids?” You asked referring to Mike and Dustin.

“I told them to wait in the car. C’mon we gotta get the kiddos home before their curfews or—“

“Hey, Munson, I knew you were a freak, but I didn’t take you for a creep too.” Andy Manning jeered, he was one of Jason’s loyal minions and was always the second most confrontational of their crew besides Jason.

The trio approached Eddie and y/n followed by the very smug looking core four.

“I could care less about anybody on this squad other than y/n.” Eddie shot back, squeezing his girlfriend tighter against his side. “Let’s get outta here babe.”

The pair tried to side step the gaggle of basketball players and cheerleaders only for Chance to block their path.

“Not so fast, freak, Liz told us you two trashed her car this weekend. Is that true?”

“Oh, did your car get trashed too, Liz?” Y/n asked innocently. “We got soda bombed at the movies this weekend. Seems some asshole is just going around ruining people’s nights. You better watch out.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Chance snapped.

“You heard my girl, ball for brains, somebody trashed our car too that night.” Eddie shot back. “You got the wrong suspects so move.”

He tugged y/n’s arm once more leading her away from the group of jocks and bitchy cheerleaders.

“Y/n when you’re ready to drop the zero, I’ll be here!” One of the guys jeered.

It was enough to stop Eddie in his tracks.

“Eddie, don’t.” His girlfriend tugged his arm. “Please. Fuck them.”

But it was too late and Eddie was already headed back in the laughing jocks direction.

“I know you’ve taken a few hits to the head since being on the team, dick cheese, but if you need a reminder of what happened to your leader,” Eddie nodded toward Jason, “I can jog your memory.”

Jason’s face burned bright red at the reminder of his three time ass kicking.

“Wha’d you say, rat hair?” Chance asked, his chest sticking out as he glared back at Eddie.

“You heard me.” Eddie shot back. “All of you did. I can use any of you dimwits as a reminder.”

Chance advanced on him and Eddie stepped closer while the rest of the squad and team looked on. Eddie’s heart was beating wildly to as the air became charged with adrenaline. Contrary to popular belief, Eddie didn’t go looking for trouble nor did he usually start it. He hated conflict ever since he was a child, and knew when to run vs when to fight. But he wasn’t a punching bag either. He’d gotten enough of that as a kid. It was no secret that he was the tough guy of Hellfire club, but douchebags still liked to try him on occasion.

“Eddie, don’t!” Y/n grabbed his arm.

“Yeah, listen to your girl, Munson.” Chance spat, green eyes narrowing.

“Dude, shut up!” Jason reprimanded.

“Might wanna listen to your leader, asshole.” Eddie smirked. “At least one of you still has your memory.”

Jason’s expression grew from wary to mortified. His face drained of color as if he thought Eddie might blow his tough guy image right then and there about kicking his ass years ago. Luckily Eddie just gave him his usual shit eating smirk.

“C’mon, Eddie,” Y/n whispered pulling her boyfriend away, “let’s go.”

“This isn’t over, Munson!” Chance called behind him.

Eddie held up his middle finger as his girlfriend led him out of the gym.

Could he have handled that better? Maybe, but he was tired of people making his social status y/n’s problem. Even more tired of guys outright disrespecting his relationship with her.

I just wanna date my girl in peace. Is that so much to ask!

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize y/n was talking.

“Eddie?”

He stopped in his tracks as he noticed you had stopped too.

“Are you ok? I know those lames pissed you off.”

“Yeah…” Eddie sighed, running a ringed hand through his messy curls. His cheeks puffed as he blew out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t mean to make problems for you, y/n.”

“You didn’t.” She insisted. “We knew this was a possibility.”

“Still, I should probably stay away from your practices.”

“No you shouldn’t! Other girl’s boyfriends pick them up from practice it shouldn’t be any different for us.”

“Y/n, I am on my last leg for graduation. One wrong move could ruin that for me and if your Coach finds out that your boyfriend is fighting basketball team members I could get you kicked from the squad.” A sad smile tugged the corners of his lips. “Hate to break it to you beautiful, but I’m kind of a common denominator here.”

“I’d rather be off the squad, than hide you.”

Eddie’s heart skipped as he stared down at his girlfriend’s warm dark eyes and sincere expression. She was always in his corner 100%. He just wished he could make it mean something. Lately it always felt like being with him meant y/n had to sacrifice something and he hated that.

Before he could find the words to express that, his girlfriend was on her tip toes kissing him and turning his brain into mush.

With a surprised hum, Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back.

With every undulation of her tongue in his mouth and every second in her arms his insecurities melted away.

Dammit. I love this chick. I love you, y/n. I can’t let this go…

For a long time there was nothing but white noise and y/n in his brain until:

“See, I told you he was probably hooking up.” A familiar smart alecy voice quipped.

“That still doesn’t mean I owe you five dollars.”

The couple turned to see Dustin and Mike standing at the end of the hall.

“Hey,” Eddie barked, his face heating up in embarrassment and his beat up leather jacket not helping the matter. “I thought I told you little munchkins to wait in the van!”

“Dude, you were taking five ever to come out!” Dustin shot back. He and Mike were wearing AV club shirts and matching windbreakers.

“Yeah, Eddie, not to rush you, but we do kinda have curfews.” Mike added.

“Ughh, fine Eddie rolled his eyes as y/n giggled. “C’mon ya little shits. Let’s get you two home before your mommies call the cops or whatever.”

“Thank you.” Dustin shot back.

The  older teens fell into step with the underclassmen as Dustin continued to talk.

“Hey, Eddie, tell Mike a deal’s a deal.”

“I didn’t make a deal with you, dude, you assumed we were betting and I just didn’t say anything.”

“Failure to deny a bet is an automatic loss, dude.” Eddie chuckled as he slung an arm around his girlfriend.

“What?! Since when? You guys are just dicking with me.”

“You either take the bet or deny it, Mike. That’s just how it is.” Y/n got in on the fun.

“I am not giving Dustin another five bucks!”

As they joked on their way to the car, Eddie finally felt himself relax for the first time since the run-in. He held the van door open grinning from ear to ear as y/n climbed in still joking with the kids and her brown skin glistening from the slight sheen of sweat. She was perfect, she was his, and no hoop head or cheerleader status was going to change that.