#even though both are already on thin ice with me for other (much bigger) reasons

[taleweaver-ramblings]

I know the world doesn't need another "basics of design for non-designers" post/site/guide, but storm me if I am not sometimes tempted to write one anyway (and then make it required reading for any ministry leader who wants to make their own graphics to be used on Official Church Things).

[redhoodieone]

His Girl

Plot: Dick Grayson has a type in women: athletic, feminine, and classy. However, the reader is completely different as she is plus-size, tomboyish, and spontaneous. But a conversation about Y/N between Dick and the batboys takes an unexpected turn one night.

Warnings: Language, Sensitive topics, and Fluff.

“What the hell’s up your ass?” Jason asks Dick, as he hands him a bottle of beer from the refrigerator in the Batcave. It was only until last week that Bruce gave in and allowed a refrigerator to be down there after the boys begged him for one.

As long as it was only for beverages, of course. Bruce had mentioned the boys have been eating too much junk food lately, but the boys knew deep down that his rule is simply for him, because of his age, and maybe for Y/N, too.

Y/N has only been with the Batfamily for a year since her family died at the hands of Two-Face. She had only started training with Bruce for two months now, and the two of them have been working out quite a bit.

Which makes sense of Bruce’s one rule for the refrigerator, though. But that hasn’t stopped Jason from sneaking in food anyways; mostly pizza and lunch meat and cheeses for sandwiches.

But now, Dick’s distant and silence is unbearable since the circus descent acrobat is usually excited and rambling about anything and everything.

“Uh, nothing! I mean...” Dick stutters. His behavior tonight was questionable to say the least. Usually, he would be on his game and even throw some wisecracks but he’s been awfully quiet, nervous even.

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say,” Jason scoffs.

Dick sits on top of the hood of the Batmobile while he peels the sticky label from the beer bottle. He notices Tim and Damian walking out from the showers and are already dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts. Bruce is seated at the Batcomputer, still in costume but minus the cowl. Jason sits at the small table and sips from his beer and snacks on a triple meat and cheese sandwich he must have made quickly.

And Alfred had long gone to bed after Bruce forced him to get some rest since they’ve returned home and are not dead.

Dick suddenly notices Y/N must still be in the showers, on the other side of the cave for privacy where the guys can’t bother the girls.

“Fine...I’ve been...having these thoughts and dreams about Y/N lately,” Dick confesses. He notices Jason staring at him with a confused expression.

“Yeah, and…?”

“Well…lately, I’ve been thinking about her as…more than a friend. I’ve been seeing her in a new light. And you know I’ve always thought she was cool, and funny, and incredibly smart,” Dick continues, with a small smile. “But…I’ve never been sexually attracted to women like her before.”

Jason purses his lips and appears to think it over. “So, I don’t see the problem.”

“I just told you I’ve never felt this way about Y/N or any woman like her before.”

“Because you’re shallow.”

“I’m not shallow,” Dick argues, suddenly feeling defensive at Jason’s attack. “I just…I’ve never seen heavy women as hot, you know?”

“You can try to justify all that, but the point is, you’re shallow.”

“Have you ever slept with a heavy girl before, Jason?!” Dick snaps.

Jason chuckles and grins. “Actually, I have.”

“Bullshit,” Dick scoffs.

“Yeah, I have Dickie-bird. It happened three years ago, when my Outlaws and I kicked Black Mask’s ass. We went to a bar to celebrate in downtown Gotham. Roy and Star left early to go fuck or something. I was left alone and I was about to call it a night until this smoking hot woman took a seat next to me. She had long dark hair, tan skin, and curves that made my mouth water and my cock hard enough to pound nails. She was gorgeous, but there were these assholes around her and were calling her fat and telling her to leave because no one here would take her home. And do you want to know what I did?” Jason asks.

“What?” Dick asks quietly.

“I took her home, after I broke all those guys’ jaws. She was fucking amazing, man. She had a magnificent ass that she actually allowed me to spank. Her curves were endless, and after I fucked her good three times, cuddling and falling asleep with her was probably the best part of the night. I’ve never felt so…comfortable and felt warm, because I actually felt someone beside me,” Jason admits.

Dick raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, I didn’t think something like that could happen to you, Jason. If anything, I thought you were shallow.”

“I used to be, until I realized I was judging others, when I was actually trying to have others not judge me. Alfred actually helped me with that. I don’t remember every word he said exactly but he said I wasn’t trying all the ice cream flavors out there. Like, I was always sticking to a certain flavor of ice cream, and I wasn’t trying other kinds, meaning I should be looking at all types of women. And after my one night stand with that magnificent woman’s ass, I realized bigger girls aren’t deal breakers; they’re just more to love,” Jason admits, and shrugs with a smug smile.

“That’s…I don’t even know what to say. But Y/N’s different. She’s someone we know and it makes it harder. And my problem isn’t that I’m shallow, it’s how I’m supposed to handle my feelings about her.”

“Yeah, you are, Dick. Y/N’s literally the best woman we’ve ever met. Hell, the best woman I’VE ever met. She’s fucking funny, she’s so caring and kind, she’s smarter than Timbo when it comes to common sense,” Jason lists off his reasons.

“That’s true! I’m not going to lie about that!” Tim interrupts from the distance.

“Y/N’s real, she doesn’t bullshit about anything like other girls. She’s honest, and that’s a rare thing to find nowadays. And fuck…she can really handle her alcohol, she can down shots of Fireball like it’s water,” Jason adds.

“You don’t think I know all that? Of course, I do! That’s why I’m having such a hard time dealing with my feelings for her. I’ve only ever been with tall, athletic women, who wear skirts and dresses, eats healthy, and are…well, feminine,” Dick confesses. A guilty expression shows on his face. “And Y/N’s not any of that. She’s really short, kinda chubby, and she’s more of a tomboy type, who’s loud and rambunctious, and eats like a man.”

Jason snorts. “And that’s a problem why? That’s why Y/N’s fucking awesome, man! I actually really like how she’s not afraid to be herself. She’s not fake. Do you know how long it took for her to be comfortable with all of us and be who she is rather than how she thought we expected from her? And I don’t know about you but I love how she eats, whenever we go out to restaurants, I actually like how I can eat the way I want and not feel like a fat ass because I know her and I both love what we love and fuck all who have a problem with that!”

Bruce turns around in his chair and gives both boys a warning look. Even Tim and Damian silently take a seat and watch closely.

“Fuck…Y/N is the perfect woman. She’ll always be in my eyes,” Jason admits, looking down at his beer longingly before taking a sip.

“If you feel so strongly about her then why haven’t you tried to go out with her or sleep with her?” Dick asks angrily.

Jason’s pause takes everyone by surprise. “Because she can do better than me.”

“You-you actually tried to get with her?” Dick stammers.

“Oh, yeah I definitely did. I think about a year ago. I had spent the summer with her here while everyone was busy with the whole Justice League and Superman bullshit,” Jason explains. “You were with the Titans with Tim and Damian. It was just me and her.”

“Alfred was there as well,” Bruce mumbles.

“Anyways, call it cheesy as hell like those romcoms, but we actually got really close. She’s a spitfire for sure, but she really knows how to get under your skin,” Jason chuckles.

Tim and Damian nod their heads in agreement with that.

“And I obviously made the whole situation uncomfortable as fuck because when I told her how I felt, she rejected me. She said we were too alike, we’d butt heads all the time. And after that, I never brought it up again.”

Jason’s confession gives Dick a sense of confidence.

“Look, if you want to ask her out and do all that then I support you. Just know if you fucking hurt her or do anything wrong, I’ll slit your throat even if you’re family,” Jason threatens seriously.

“I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up with her,” Dick says.

“Well, don’t bring up how her weight and appearance bothers you,” Jason says seriously.

“It doesn’t!”

“Okay. How did you ask Barbara, Star, Zatanna, and-”

“I get it, Jason. I’ll just talk to her and tell her I have strong feelings for her,” Dick interrupts him. “I’ll just tell her the truth.”

“You already did.”

That voice belonged to none other than Y/N. All the guys in the Batcave jerked their heads to the top of the stairs where Y/N stood and looked down with tears running down her cheeks. She was wearing her plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt she stole from one of them a long time ago, she doesn’t exactly know who though.

Dick and Jason slowly stand up. Dick carefully walks over to the stairs while Jason cautiously follows.

“Y/N…” Dick whispers, already feeling guilty and nervous that she had probably heard everything. “Please listen to me…”

“WHY?! So, you can tell me you didn’t mean any of that, when you actually did. I thought you were different! I didn’t know you could judge someone like that! Especially someone like me!” Y/N yells. “I thought you were my friend!”

“I am your friend! Y/N, please give me a chance to explain! I really like you, and-and I was just trying to ask for help so I can talk to you!” Dick pleads.

“Don’t lie to me! You were only asking for help because you didn’t know how to deal with me being fat and manly! I’m sorry I’m not like Barbara and Star! I’m sorry I’m not beautiful and thin! I’m sorry I’m not perfect for you!” Y/N cries out and runs up the stairs.

“Y/N! Wait! Please!” Dick shouts for her. He chases after her.

By the time Dick reaches Y/N’s bedroom door, it’s locked. He can hear her crying, automatically feeling like shit for being the reason why she’s hurt.

“Y/N, please…” Dick tries again.

“Leave me alone, Dick!”

Dick swallows hard and forces himself to move away from her door. There was no use for him to stand there; he’d already broke her trust and possibly ruined their friendship. He might have even ruined his chances with her.

Jason approaches Dick. “Is she crying?” he asks.

“Yes,” Dick chokes out. He runs a hand through his dark hair. “Fuck, Jason…I don’t know what to do. She won’t even talk to me.”

“You should go, Dick. I think you’ve done enough.”

Dick was a little taken aback by Jason’s command. He pushes himself to walk away anyways.

“Bruce wants to talk to you. You should go find him before he finds you,” Jason adds.

Dick exhales heavily and leaves. Jason shakes his head in disappointment at him. He takes a deep breath and knocks on Y/N’s bedroom door.

“Doll, it’s Jay. Please let me in,” Jason says softly. “I just want to talk to you.”

He didn’t think she would open the door for him. He didn’t think she would want to talk to him even though he hadn’t pissed her off or upset her in any way. But Y/N unlocked her door and even opened it for him.

Jason was deeply heartbroken to see Y/N; her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks were wet, and she had the devastating look on her beautiful face. He quickly walked into her room and shut the door, quickly locking it.

He had to be cautious though. He knew couldn’t say or do the things he wants to do with her right now. Instead, he slowly and carefully approaches her. She allows him to wrap his strong arms around her, bringing her closely to his body to hold and protect her from everyone and everything.

“Shh…it’s okay, sweetheart. I got you. I’m not going anywhere,” Jason whispers into her hair. He tries desperately to not inhale the addicting scent of her shampoo and lingering perfume so much. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Y/N lifts her face from Jason’s chest and gazes up at him. The sight of her glistening eyes makes him draw her closer to him.

“What did I do wrong, Jay? What did I do to deserve all that? Is everything about me really bad?” Y/N asks softly, on the verge of tears again.

“No. No, don’t say that. Don’t say any of that! Nothing is wrong with you. You’re beautiful, Y/N. You’re perfect just the way you are,” Jason admits.

Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. It breaks Jason’s heart more when she tries to pull away from his embrace, but he refuses to let her go. His grip tightens and he holds her as if she’d disappear and leave him all alone.

“That’s not true, Jay,”

“It is true. Hell Y/N, you’re the most badass woman I’ve ever met. You don’t take shit from any of us. You’ve managed to stay here even after all the bullshit everyone has put you through,” he explains. He even chuckles at a memory. “You’ve even made Bruce cry, remember? Remember you called him out on his bullshit when he refused to train you? You’re almost a savage like Alfred, you even make Wonder Woman and Catwoman look like dollar tree prizes, and that’s no lie.”

Y/N looks down at her feet. Jason knows she still doesn’t believe him.

“You’re always perfect in my eyes, Y/N. There isn’t a goddamn thing I would change about you,”

“If I’m so perfect, then why does Dick think so low of me?” Y/N asks. She sniffles adorably and looks back up at him.

“Because he’s a fucking idiot who can’t see the best thing that’s in front of him,” Jason answers, and looks into Y/N’s eyes before he looks at her lips. “But his loss is my gain.”

[topaziraphale]

Love to imagine that there were a few close calls with Gabriel where aziraphale had to pretend to smite crowley, which involved a lot of aziraphale pinning him down and a lot of sword bearing. Crowley very quickly finds out he has one hell of a kink ;)

    “Of course I’m letting you win,” Crowley answers, banishing the dirt and wrinkles from both his and Aziraphale’s clothes with a snap of his fingers. Then, on a whim, he clears off any lingering sweat beading on his skin. He can’t do anything about the flush on his face and neck, or the way his legs are still wobbling. “Can’t have you losing in front of your own lot, can we? They might try and help you out, y’know. Might be worse for me in the long run, ‘s only selfish.”

    Aziraphale’s frown deepens at the implication. “Oh. I assume this means I’ll have to let you overtake me when your people show up, then?”

    “Er, you won’t. Have to. Do that, I mean.” Crowley stammers. Aziraphale raises his eyebrows. “They won’t crawl all the way up here to talk to me,” he elaborates, “they’ve got the radio and telly for that.”

    “Oh,” Aziraphale says again, fumbling with the lowest button on his waistcoat for a moment. “Yes, quite right.” He smiles nervously. “Erm...” Crowley pretends he doesn’t notice the blush subtly rising on Aziraphale’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Well, knowing that, I must say that is very—”

    “—no—” Crowley groans in annoyance, knowing exactly where that sentence is going, throwing his head back and grimacing.

    “—kind of you to do, to let me win even though it’s all a ruse,” Aziraphale continues, his smile changing from nervous to irritatingly fond and knowing. “Rather considerate.”

    “Fantastic,” Crowley grumbles, his face burning brighter for a different reason now. “Really made my day with that one, you did.”

     In the short silence that follows, Crowley sniffs and looks down at his shoes, pretending to inspect them for any clumps of dirt. He realizes, belatedly, that neither of them cared to fix the messy state of the greenery and soil beneath them. It clashes with the rest of the neat, freshly mown blades of grass in this conveniently empty section of the park — a stark reminder of what just happened. The sight of it makes Crowley shiver. Suddenly his resolve to stay cool and collected vanishes into thin air. He hastily looks back up to find Aziraphale fiddling with the chain of his pocket watch, and he gulps.

    “Er,” he starts awkwardly, nearly freezing when Aziraphale makes eye contact with him. “Right, anyway, I just remembered I have something to do. It’s important. I’ll pick you up later, shall I?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He spins on his heel, turning his back on Aziraphale and shoving his hands in his pockets, making his smoothest attempt at nonchalance as he starts walking away. “I’ll meet you in the front of the bookshop.”

    “What? Wait,” Aziraphale calls. “You’re leaving already?”

    Crowley stops in his tracks, shock still, his breath hitching in his chest. He couldn’t have been found out. He wasn’t that loud, was he? Aziraphale doesn’t know, can’t know. If he knew…

    “Won’t be long,” says Crowley, gritting his teeth, hoping he doesn’t have to outright lie, hoping Aziraphale doesn’t push. “An hour, at most. We won’t miss our reservation.”

   “I… er, very well,” Aziraphale eventually says, sounding confused and a little hurt. “But, before you go, I need to ask you about… just now.”

    There’s a brief moment of silence, and Crowley holds his breath, chills cold as ice sliding from the back of his neck down along the knobs of his spine as fear builds in his lower gut. When Aziraphale speaks up again, his voice is slightly deeper than normal.

     “I hurt you this time, didn’t I?”    

      Crowley blesses under his breath. It takes all he has in him not to react outwardly, to lose his carefully constructed neutrality right then and there. Instantly, his mind plays back the stunt Aziraphale pulled only minutes ago.

    It’s practically routine for them at this point, really; it’s a way for them to get out of a damning situation in a pinch. If someone from work unexpectedly shows up, they pretend to be mortal enemies, doing what mortal enemies are obliged to do should they ever cross paths: fighting to the death. (Discorporation, in these cases — and even then, they only need to make the viewer think that a discorporation has taken place, should it ever go that far.) It’ll be seen as two adversaries busy with work, and whoever it was that checked in will usually leave within a minute or two to let them get back to it.

    They were taking a leisurely walk and having a (slightly heated, in the angel’s case) conversation about some of the menu changes at the Criterion, when Aziraphale suddenly kicked Crowley’s feet out from under him, pinning him face-down into the ground with his knee pressed onto his back. He had yanked his hair, forcing his head up, and swiftly brought the edge of a sword — having manifested the weapon from thin air — onto Crowley’s exposed neck. Crowley was hard in his trousers before he even realized what was happening, before he could even guess that Gabriel or any other one of those wankers was probably nearby, watching, and that Aziraphale was faking the attack like he had done many times before to keep them both safe.

    But for a moment, Crowley didn’t know that.

     As Crowley had grabbed fistfuls of dirt and grass and writhed under the perfect weight of Aziraphale’s body, he had thought it was real, and that Aziraphale really was going to smite him this time, and that he was truly at his mercy, finally getting everything he wanted. It was too much, the ringing in his head from falling to the ground, the pain in his spine, the white-hot burn in his scalp. Crowley couldn’t move and the sword was cold and sharp on the delicate skin of his neck and Aziraphale put his lips to his ear to whisper something and it sounded harsh and commanding and he whimpered—

    “Crowley?”

    Crowley blinks back to himself, his eyes wide behind dark lenses. He hears Aziraphale’s footsteps approaching him, the soft crunching of the grass beneath two Oxfords deafening amongst the low rumble of blood rushing through his ears.

     “No,” he blurts out, his voice thin. “I’m fine, it’s fine.”

    The footsteps stop. His entire body is trembling now, every inch of skin charged as if with electricity, surely to go off at the slightest touch. He clears his throat, vaguely wondering how much of a disaster it would be if he had to look Aziraphale in the face during all of this.

    “I’m fine,” he repeats in a more natural tone. “Don’t make a fuss over it, you didn’t hurt me.” You did. “Same as always, nothing different about it this time.” Hurt me again. And again and again, until my throat is raw from screaming, until my face is wet with tears. Make me beg for it.

    “It most certainly was not the same, you had no idea I was even going to attack you,” Aziraphale comments, sounding just this side of stern. Crowley’s stomach curls with something too close to pleasure from the tone of voice. Aziraphale sighs. “Are you quite sure I did not hurt you by accident?” he asks gently, because it’s just like him to have concern for Crowley’s well-being, even at the worst possible times. He takes one step closer, the space separating their bodies no bigger than an arm’s-length. Crowley can feel his stare burning right through his soul, can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. “I only ask because, ah, when you cried out, just then, you seemed…”

    Alarms blare in Crowley’s racing mind.

     Cried out, cried out.

    Aziraphale did hear him.

    And now he’s asking about it.

    Crowley goes from half-hard to fully erect so quickly that it makes him dizzy, his dick throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Aziraphale only has to take a couple steps toward him and circle around to his front, and then he’ll have full view of the state Crowley is in. Then Crowley would have to explain himself, and he would be mortified, he’d be so humiliated, and the fear of it only makes his cock harder. There’s just not enough self-preservation in his current, lust-crazed state of mind to not want anything more than that.

     “— truly distressed,” Aziraphale continues, pronouncing the words with the same caution one would use when walking on a tightrope. Crowley hears the faintest of wavers in his voice only because he’s known the bastard for too long. “I was afraid I used too much force this time.”

     You could have used more. Used all of it. Put me in my place. Burned me with your light until I’m nothing, until I’m dust at your feet. Please, angel…

     Crowley holds his breath again, the muscles in his neck tightening and his jaw aching with the effort it takes to kill the moan forcing its way up into his throat. His legs feel like jelly. The temptation to fall on his knees and admit it is palpable. He might as well come clean. Even if nothing happens now, Aziraphale will bring it up again later. That’s just how he is. Better to get it over with…

    “No,” he croaks. He’s blushing so hard that the skin on his face and scalp itches furiously. “I wasn’t, I didn’t…”

    “You’re sure?”

    “Yes.”

    “Truly?”

    “For Heaven’s sake, Aziraphale, I told you I’m alright,” Crowley snaps. More than alright. Crowley knows he’s going to revel in the ache for days, but he also knows, acutely, that he’s only jeopardizing himself more the longer he stays in this blasted park. He’s sure he wouldn’t be able to survive another round of questions; he can already feel his admittedly weak resolve slipping in the face of those warm, seaglass eyes, beckoning him to spill his guts and spew the awful, contemptible fantasies of being taken right there in the dirt, like he deserves, with a sword trained on his back and the angel’s name in his mouth. The only thing keeping him from doing it is his knowing how said angel would react — with an upturned nose and a look of disgust only reserved for the lowest of scum. He can’t do that to him, can’t be that to him.

“Oh, right then, that’s good,” Aziraphale’s voice suddenly pulls him out of his reverie, sounding disappointed, “that’s a relief.”

Crowley then hears the telltale rustle of clothes as Aziraphale fidgets, probably adjusting his waistcoat, before he calls out, “Well then, don’t let me keep you, dear fellow. Do mind how you go.”

    “Same to you,” he says back, feeling moderately guilty.

     He snaps his fingers, bringing himself to his flat. He lands on his back on his luxurious bed. The cool satin sheets do nothing to calm his rapid pulse or the lick of shame that follows as he claws at his belt, the zip’s teeth not daring to catch as he shoves his trousers down and takes himself in hand. The guilt instantly melts away, but the shame stays, however it only proves to spur him on even more.

    Aziraphale will forgive him by the time they meet back up for dinner.

------------------

((I originally meant to use a couple lines of dialogue as an answer to this ask but then it turned into a small little fic, thingy, yeah. Huge thanks to @divinehedonism for beta reading this for me!!))

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 34: Forever

Chapter 33

Read on AO3

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: This fic is on a very long hiatus until further notice. Please see the AO3 link for more details. Much love❤️

It was June third, the day after their eleven month anniversary. Claire couldn’t believe it; it was truly almost an entire year since that fateful Saturday at the stables. A year since their hearts and bodies had spoken what their voices dared not say.

He took her down port again, to a restaurant even more extravagant than the one they’d gone to the last time they were there. It was a glorious Saturday night, and Claire was blissfully happy.

Though something seemed off with Jamie.

His hand had done that tapping that he did when he was anxious the entire drive over, and it was his left, always his left, so she could not reach out and take it to soothe him.

“Why, you’re as nervous as you were on our first date,” she’d teased.

“Aye, well.” He’d forced a chuckle, winking at her. “It’s no’ every day ye celebrate nearly a year wi’ the woman ye love.”

She’d laughed, too, not really considering what an odd thing that was to say.

She also hadn’t considered how strange it was to go so all-out when it wasn’t actually a full year yet. She could truly only imagine how extravagant those plans would be.

And anyway…what was there to be nervous about? There wasn’t a single thing they hadn’t shared, a single thing they didn’t know about each other now. Holding his hand as they left the parking meter, strolling down the sidewalk to their reservation, his palm was as sweaty as it had been the night they’d first slept together.

Had he never eaten at this restaurant? Was he worried she wouldn’t like it?

Watching his hand jiggle at his side at a constant loop at the table, Claire put her menu down.

“Jamie. You’re shaking the whole table.”

“Christ, I’m sorry.” He stiffened, reigning himself in. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said gently. “I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’re never so out of it when we go out.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, and she almost believed him. “I’m alright.”

“You’re about to cause an earthquake with that nervous tick of yours and you expect me to believe you’re alright?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish grin, and for just a second she caught a glimpse of Jamie again, not the anxious mess she was at dinner with.

“Is something happening with your family? And you don’t want to ruin the evening by bringing it up now? Because I don’t give a damn about the evening. We can leave right now—”

“No.”

Claire jumped a little, wincing at how tightly he squeezed her hand.

“Sorry,” he stammered.  “I’m mucking this all up.”

“Mucking what up?”

He sighed. “Nothing is wrong wi’ my family. Nothing at all is wrong. Everything is…perfect. My life hasna been this right since I was a bairn.”

Claire allowed a tiny smile, her eyes glimmering. “Okay,” she said softly, urging him to continue.

“That’s what has me feeling this way, I suppose. You are perfect. Our life is perfect. I suppose this big anniversary is just…I dinna ken. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Jamie…” Claire shook her head. “There is no other shoe. I’m not going anywhere. Faith is not going anywhere. You’re stuck with us, darling.”

He sighed in relief, and Claire could not comprehend that he would ever think otherwise to the point where he would feel such relief.

“Even when I’m shaking tables and sweating through shirts?”

She giggled. “Yes. Even then.”

He kissed her hand. “Good.”

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch, though there was still something underlying buzzing through Jamie. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and reassure him the only way she knew how. If he kept this up, she might not be able to wait until they got home. She’d have to find a long, empty dock and drag him to the edge and kiss him senseless anywhere he wanted. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, and she wouldn’t rest until she could see that he was absolutely sure that she was his and his alone.

Forever.

They went to their usual ice cream place, and as they swapped cups and tasted each other’s, Jamie seemed to relax a little bit more, laughing, savoring the flavor like a little boy. That was one of the things she loved most about him. He took nothing for granted, not even the difference between his moose tracks ice cream and Claire’s mint chocolate chip, not even the pigeons and seagulls that watched them out of the corner of their eye the closer they got to the beach.

“I’ll unleash all my unholy power if they so much as peck this ice cream,” Claire said, eyeing a particularly nasty looking little bastard.

“Dinna fash, my lass,” Jamie said gallantly, raising his spoon like Excalibur. “No harm shall befall ye, or yer precious frozen treat. No’ so long as I’m wi’ ye.”

“My hero.” She batted her lashes at him, then craned her neck and puckered her lips, and he obliged her, kissing her soundly.

The farther along the beach they wandered, the less and less people they encountered, and Claire began scouting locations where they could tuck themselves away for even a few moments of privacy. She certainly couldn’t fully have him here, but a few sloppy kisses and heavy touches would do the trick. Her eyes flicked to a dock with a boat on the end, no people to be found on it. She gave him a mischievous look and began tugging him toward it.

“I ken that look well enough,” Jamie said, matching her mischief. “And I’ll no’ be giving in to ye.”

She stuck out her lip in her most convincing pout. “Why ever not?”

“I dinna trust ye no’ to get us arrested for public indecency. No’ with that gleam in yer eye.”

“I’ll be good! I promise.” She stopped tugging so she could press herself flush against him, arching her back just enough that her breasts were the first thing that came in contact with him. “Come on, love…I promise I’ll behave.”

She fully expected him to grab her hips, press his hardness into her with a growl, and accept defeat.

But instead, he just grinned. Not even a smirk, a full-faced grin.

“If ye can catch me, ye can have yer way wi’ me.”

“What—?”

And then before she could blink, Jamie was running, sprinting away from her, kicking up sand in his wake.

“You bastard!”

She hiked up her skirts and chased after him as fast as her bare feet could carry her in the sand. She lost track of how long she spent going after him, but he was not relenting, not letting her catch up. They were both laughing their heads off, whooping, Claire calling after him until her voice was hoarse. He finally stopped, appearing to not be exhausted in the slightest, and she slowed herself to a jog, chest heaving and burning.

“You absolute maniac,” she panted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She was laughing as she said it, and he laughed with her, reaching out his hand and taking it when she caught up. He kissed her hand.

“My legs feel like jell-o. You’d better be planning on carrying me back.”

“Aye, of course,” he said automatically. “But I want to show ye something first.”

She cocked a brow skeptically.

“Come on.”

He tugged on her hand, and out of sheer exhaustion, she allowed him to lead the way. They were walking right to a dock, and before Claire could exasperatedly complain that she’d been trying to do the same thing before he started that marathon, she realized.

There were candles lining every step of the boardwalk, a string of lights wrapped around each wooden post along the way. Across the top was a zigzag of more lights, held in place by thin metal poles attached to the wooden posts. She hadn’t seen it, even as she was running right toward it. She’d had her eyes locked on Jamie’s bright red hair all the while, desperate to catch up to him.

“What…what is all this…?” She was still out of breath, and on top of it her breath was gone for an entirely different reason.

He didn’t say anything, just kept his hand laced with hers and continued walking her down to the end of the pier.

“This is beautiful…is this always here…? I don’t understand…”

A familiar humming noise took her out of her dumbstruck admiration of the twinkling beauty, and she whipped her head around. “Jamie…what…?” Squinting, Claire could make out two figures at the opposite end of the pier, and a bouncing little thing in front of them.

Before she could process what was happening, she felt him take her other hand. She turned her head to question him, but was stunned into silence by the look on his face.

He was radiant.

The string of lights painted glowing streaks in his hair and twinkled in his eyes. And God, his eyes…they were bigger than she’d ever seen; she may very well have drowned in them if he didn’t start speaking.

“Claire, I…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. The hand that was grasping hers was trembling.

“Jamie…?”

“You are…the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met,” he continued, holding her gaze and squeezing her hand tighter. “The first time I saw ye I was…blown away by how big yer heart was. The way ye looked at Faith, the way she smiled at ye…I knew. I knew ye were special. And I didna realize at the time, but ye’d already crawled into this hole in my heart that was made for you. Both of you.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with tears, and it very suddenly hit her exactly what was happening.

“I know the pain ye’ve seen, mo ghraidh, I know the fear and doubt that plagues ye. But I…” He cleared his throat again, and then lowered himself to the ground, on one knee.

A single tear escaped Claire’s eye, trickling down as her breath hitched in her throat.

“I will never, never stop trying to be worthy of ye, Claire. I swear to ye on my life that I will be a good husband, and…a good father. You deserve to be loved beyond measure. And I…I do, mo sorcha. I love you wi’ every ounce of my being.”

Claire was fully sobbing now, and his thumb rubbed over her knuckles as his other hand reached into his pocket.

“So will you, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, make me the luckiest man in the world?” He opened the box, revealing the beautiful sparkling ring within. “Will ye marry me, Sassenach?”

Claire could not speak. She nodded vigorously, more ridiculous sobs sputtering from her. Jamie’s strained, concentrated face erupted into the most glorious smile she had ever seen. He leapt to his feet and Claire threw her arms around his neck, and he encircled her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her. He exclaimed loudly in Gaelic, laughing joyously, and Claire sputtered her own laughter in between sobs.

He finally put her down, and Claire seized his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back passionately. When they pulled apart, Jamie was holding the ring, a small but beautiful rock set within it, and she allowed him to slip it on.

“Oh, love…” she croaked out, and he brought her hand to his lips and fervently kissed the ring.

Something suddenly collided with Claire’s legs, and she cried out a bit in shock. Jamie laughed again as Claire turned around and looked down to see Faith clinging to her legs. Looking up, she could now see that the figures in the distance were Gail and Joe.

“You…” She turned back to Jamie. “You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

Jamie just beamed at her, his eyes glistening with tears. Claire let out a joyous laugh and sank to her knees in front of Faith.

“Hello, lovie….” She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tight, rocking her gently. “Oh, look at you…” Claire pulled back so she could see Faith, dressed in a beautiful little dress, blue and purple and frilly, white stockings and her perfect little white shoes. When she’d left her with Leina, she was still in her pajamas from the night before, and the plan had seemingly been to leave it that way.

“Look at us, hm?” Claire said, sniffling as she stroked Faith’s hair. “All dressed up? Mummy is going to be married, darling.” Claire’s voice broke, and she laughed through more tears. “See, Faith?” She held up her hand, and Faith immediately began fiddling with the rock. “This means I’m going to be a bride, baby.”

God…I can’t believe it.

A hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and she looked behind her to see that Jamie had crouched down beside her.

“I’ve, ehm, got something for her, too,” he said, his nervousness returning.

Claire’s heart felt fit to burst as her eyes landed on the pink velvet box in his hand.

“With yer permission, Claire…” Jamie took a deep, stuttering breath. “I’d like to ask yer daughter to let me be her father.”

Claire’s chin quivered again, her eyes immediately welling up. She nodded, swallowing thickly, and then fervently kissed Jamie’s cheek before standing up to allow him to proceed.

——

Jamie took a steadying breath before straightening himself out, getting up on his knee the way he’d just done before Claire.

“Hello, wean,” he said. She was fiddling with her skirt and twirling it back and forth, staring intently at its sparkles.

“Faith, a leannan, can ye look at my eyes?” He gently poked her chin with his finger, and she looked up, only to become enraptured by the string of lights above her head.

“D’ye like the lights, Faith?” Jamie flicked her chin with his middle finger, signing light. She giggled and snatched his hand in both of hers. “Ah, ye got me,” he teased, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them. “I like the lights too, ye ken. Reminds me of our special day in our fairy den. D’ye remember?” She hummed a bit, freeing one of her hands from his grip to flap it, saying fairy

“Aye, that’s right. Very good, Faith.” He took her hand again in hopes of keeping her attention. “I had lots of fun that day, Faith. In fact, I have lots of fun whenever I’m with ye. Because ye’re a very special lass. D’ye ken that?”

She started fiddling with the wee hairs on his hands, giggling to herself.

“I asked yer Mummy a very important question, Faith. I asked her if she wanted to be my wife. And I gave her a special present to celebrate, a very pretty ring. D’ye like the ring?” She nodded absently, still twirling the little hairs. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because I’ve got a special present fer you, too.”

That got her attention. She whipped her head up and looked at him, humming and then opening her mouth with an excited groan. Jamie chuckled softly and held the box up to her. She stroked the velvet box with her hands before pressing her cheek into it, likely enjoying its softness.

“Lovely box, is it no’?” he teased, and then gently lifted her chin to pick her head up off the box. “Let’s look inside, aye?”

Before Faith could snatch the box again or get upset, he popped it open.

“See what I’ve got for ye? Look.” He let Faith take it in her hands. “It’s a crown, see? And look what it says. F-A-I-T-H.” He signed each letter to her as he said it. “Faith. That’s yer name, aye?” She hummed, biting her lip with her smile. “Princess Faith, it says.

“D’ye ken that I love ye, Faith?” His voice got tight, his eyes welling up. “I think I fell in love wi’ you just as quickly as I did yer mam.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. He kept his hand there, cupping her cheek, as he signed I love you with his free hand. “See, a leannan? I love you.”

Faith gave a high pitched, squealing giggle, bouncing as she returned the sign. Jamie uttered a breathy laugh, a single tear trickling down his cheek. He heard a tiny sob from above him, and wasn’t surprised to feel Claire’s hand grasp his shoulder.

“Good girl, Faith,” Jamie whispered, rubbing a circle on her cheek with his thumb. “It makes me verra happy that ye love me, too.” He signed happy, smiling widely. “Are ye happy, Faith?” She hummed, jiggling her hands and nodding. “Good, good lass.” He sniffled, blinking away more tears, reaching to his own shoulder to cover Claire’s hand in his.

“I promise to always love ye, and protect ye, and do right by ye, just as I will yer mam.” He gave Claire’s hand a squeeze. “Will ye be my wee princess, Faith?” He poked a finger at the necklace, his fingertip cooling at the touch of the metal. “Will ye let me be yer Da?” He spread his fingers, poking his thumb to his forehead.

Faith hummed and jiggled a bit, but Jamie held the sign patiently. After a few seconds, she giggled, and then copied him exactly, thumb on forehead. Fingers splayed.

Da.

Jamie laughed out loud, fit to burst with joy. He released Claire’s hand to wrap his arms around his wee girl, and Joe and Gail broke into applause. He felt Claire fall to her knees beside him, and his heart cracked open to hear her openly weeping. He folded her into his embrace as well, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, fisting his jacket in one hand, caressing Faith’s curls in the other.

“Oh, Jamie…” she blubbered against his skin. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, mo chridhe. Wi’ my whole heart.”

When the three of them finally released each other from their embrace, Jamie freed the necklace from the box and fastened it around Faith’s neck. She rubbed it between her fingers, pulled it up and rubbed it on her cheek, and jiggled it in her hands.

“It’s beautiful, Jamie,” Claire breathed against his neck.

“D’ye think she likes it?”

“She does.”

“D’ye think she…understands?”

They looked at Faith for a moment, grinning from ear to ear as she fiddled with her necklace.

“I think she does.” Claire pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. “If nothing else, she knows that you love her, Jamie.” Claire met his eye and held up the sign, trembling lips curling into a smile. He repeated the sign, touching their fingers together as he’d often seen mother and daughter do, and their foreheads rested together. “And she loves you, too. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean.”

A tear slipped from Jamie’s eye and trickled down Claire’s nose, and they kissed one another sweetly, I love you’s still pressed together.

Gail and Joe suddenly got closer, calling Faith over to them. Jamie broke into a wide grin, watching from the corner of his eye; the last part of the plan was nearly complete.

“Go on, baby,” Gail said. “Go put them on, just like we practiced.”

Faith scampered back to them, bounding and skipping and squealing with glee. Jamie exchanged a look with Claire, who seemed utterly bewildered, and who somehow looked completely and utterly beautiful, even red and swollen from tears of joy.

Jamie ducked his head and allowed Faith to clumsily place the hat atop his head, and then watched as she plopped the one with the bow on Claire. Faith squealed again and jumped up and down, clapping her hands in triumph and then flapping relentlessly.

“What on Earth…?” Claire turned to look at Jamie, and then burst into laughter.

Faith had put Mickey Mouse ears on them both — well, Minnie Mouse for Claire if you accounted for the red bow.

“D’ye no’ find me rather dashing?” he teased, and Claire laughed all the harder. “Here. Look.”

Jamie removed the hat, and Claire did the same, then Jamie held them side by side. Claire exhaled with a breathy laugh, leaning her cheek into Jamie’s shoulder as she read the words that Jamie had had embroidered onto the backs, his and hers respectively:

I asked

I said yes!

[todomitoukei]

Please, give us your feelings about BNHA's female characters. Tbh, I just don't care about them? Even Toga-and I consider her the best female characters. Imho it's not that they are all bad... it's just they are so flat and who was Midnight again? The one with thi scandalous outfit that was just plain bad? Like it wasn't even funny it was just a nope for me.

Alright, here are some thoughts I have about the female characters, or rather how Horikoshi writes female characters. Disclaimer: this post is going in all sorts of directions, mainly because there are so many ways in which Horikoshi manages to write awful female characters!

The problem starts with the fact that the bar for female characters (especially in shonen) is very low. For some reason, many if not most stories seem to be unable to include female characters that are more than just fan service or just there to serve the male characters. Despite the fact that bnha does have both fan service and characters that are far too flat, some people in the fandom don’t think so?! Anyway, let’s look at some of the reasons why the female characters in bnha are not as progressive as some people claim they are (under the cut because there is just too much):

Okay so, out of all the female characters I honestly only somewhat care about Toga, Momo, and Jirou, and it’s even difficult to care about those three (minus Toga) because they just aren’t included enough in the story to leave a big enough impression or stand a chance at getting a lot of character development.

Jirou I mainly love because I love the whole rock vibe, so I’m biased with her. I do think she’s a cool character, but I also feel like a lot of her lines/appearances are tied to Kaminari. Although he is supportive of her, there is one thing that bothers me about the scene where he encourages her to perform at the festival, which I will mention a little later. 

I do like that she has an interest outside of hero work (aka music) and that it stems from her parents, who are both musicians. That small scene we got of her parents showing their full, unconditional support when she tells them that she wants to be a hero is a cute scene, and I love that she is later shown to teach some of the girls how to play instruments. The problem is that those scenes are very few, and we already get so few appearances of her (won’t forgive them for not even including her in the newest OVA).

Momo is another good character - she is smart, strong, and brave. She also has the most amount of relevance out of all the female students, especially with her being involved in rescuing Bakugou. Momo has a lot of potential, but there are three main issues that I have with her character though. 

One, her hero outfit. It makes zero sense. You’d think her outfit needs to show skin due to her quirk, but then we get scenes that make it even worse, like during USJ when she created that large sheet through her back, which resulted in her outfit ripping apart and almost exposing her in chapter 61:

^also it’s panels like this where some people praise Horikoshi for giving her a realistic stomach?? Please raise the bar a little bit

And in regards to her boobs... that outfit is not supporting them at all??? It would make far more sense to just give this girl a sports bra and pants. Anywayyy, let’s not forget she is a teenager so maybe also give her a shirt? Even a loose shirt would make sense, so she could have larger creations come out of her stomach/back area without ruining her clothes every time. 

Two, her quirk is far too strong, but because this is a fictional story, it doesn’t get used in the most efficient way. As other people have already joked about, the story could be told in one season if Momo was the main character and just went wild with her quirk. Horikoshi doesn’t really make an effort to explain to us why Momo doesn’t just wrap this all up real quick. You can talk about how overpowered Green Ketchum trying to catch all quirks is, but he has nothing on Eri and Momo.

Three, after the sports festival, Momo had an issue with her self-confidence, similar to how Jirou didn’t feel confident enough to perform at the festival. And similar to how it was Kaminari that first made an attempt at boosting Jirou’s confidence, it was Shouto who helped out Momo. Now, I don’t have a problem with guys supporting girls - it’s just annoying when female characters aren’t allowed to be confident or find confidence on their own, or with the help of other female characters.

I get that she was comparing herself to him, so him showing her that he believes in her is the most helpful for her, but it becomes a problem when this is the biggest character development she gets. It’s almost like after this scene, she’s cured. And whenever a tiny hint at self-doubt crosses her mind, she just remembers that Shouto believes in her, and then she’s back on track. Not great.

Because of this, it’s really nice whenever we get a scene of just the girls hanging out, the problem is simply that those scenes barely exist because most of the female students are each tied to one specific male character: Jirou to Kaminari, Momo to Shouto, and Uraraka to Deku. Out of the three, Uraraka is the most unfortunate one, mainly because she is tied to the protagonist, so he’s always going to play a bigger role for her character than she will for him.

I think Uraraka, Momo, and Jirou all have a lot of potential and could be really interesting strong female characters. I even really love Uraraka’s motivation for becoming a hero, since she wants to help out her parents. This is actually a very selfless reason, despite the fact that most of the fandom constantly paints her as someone who would do anything for money. People even make it seem like her doing this for money is selfish, even though the money isn’t supposed to be for her, but for her parents?! And to be honest, even if her motivation was to get money for herself, can we please stop claiming that doing something for money is selfish?? Like hello? We all live in capitalist hell. We all have to work and make money to live, so please stop pressing that idea of everyone having to be passionate about their jobs. It’s okay if you hate your job, we can’t all get paid for things we’re passionate about. And guess what? It’s okay because you can still have things your passionate about outside of work and just do your job to afford shelter, food, and your hobbies! 

Anywayyy, whenever people aren’t claiming that Uraraka is just after money, her other personality trait is Deku. This mainly started when Aoyama claims that she has a crush on Deku in chapter 67:

Ever since, whenever she looks, thinks, or mentions him, she can’t think clearly anymore. No matter what she does, she seems to always think: “What would Deku do?” - instead of just asking herself: “What would I do?” To be fair, this expands to other characters as well - Bakugou and Shouto both have that same problem of constantly bringing Deku up, so this is just a problem in general with bnha, where somehow everyone is obsessed with the protagonist. The difference is just that characters that aren’t Uraraka have more to them than just Deku (Bakugou being on thin ice though).

You know what other female character has no personality outside of Deku? His mom. I know that this one might not matter as much to other people because she is a supportive mom and we love to see supportive parents, and she just doesn’t get enough screentime to give her a personality that doesn’t revolve around Deku. And I’m not saying a woman can’t just dedicate her life to her child - but since we’re already talking about female characters in this story that fall flat, could you name me anything about her that has nothing to do with Deku? What’s her hobby? What are her dreams? Yes, she has the role of mom in this story and that is her purpose, but she would just feel a little more human if we knew a little more about her. We know more about Jirou’s, Bakugou’s, and Shouto’s parents. But what about Inko? What does she do all day long?

Also now that I mentioned mothers... a big debate in the fandom (for whatever fucking reason) is whether or not Bakugou’s mom is a good mom (she isn’t). I don’t know how Horikoshi manages to write a story where one of the character’s whole plot is all about his abusive upbringing, and then he turns around and writes Mitsuki as some sort of comedy relief??

^Here in chapter 96, we have Aizawa and All Might making the home visits because of the dorm system U.A. wants to implement. Despite these two Pro Heroes seeing her smack Bakugou and call him weak, thus blaming him for having gotten kidnapped, they don’t do anything about this. They never bring this up again, or even ask if Bakugou is okay; but that’s a topic for another day. The point is, Horikoshi doesn’t seem to put much thought into his female characters as individuals but rather writes them for the sake of one of the male characters. In this case, I assume, his thought process was: I want Bakugou to be a rough character, what could possibly be a cause for that? Oh, right, how about his mom?

How we’re supposed to view the characters just depends on what their overall role is - while the Todoroki family is all about the horrors Endeavor has done to them, Bakugou’s mom doesn’t get addressed as such in the story. The only time this sort of gets brought up is during the remedial course in chapter 165 when Bakugou says violence is okay because “that’s how I was raised” - to which Shouto responds by telling him there are better ways:

Hell, even this little Monoma lookalike can understand that Bakugou’s upbringing wasn’t normal:

But despite the fact Horikoshi brings this up here, it’s overall never mentioned and I’m not sure if that will ever play a more significant role, despite the potential.

I absolutely understand that parents that don’t play an actual role in the story, are going to be written with the characterization of their kids in mind - yet it’s not great to just include an awful mother without properly addressing this and instead, making it seem more like “Oh, that’s just how mothers are, nothing wrong here” - which is something a lot of people in the fandom say btw. Please note, it is not okay to hit your child. Bakugou easily could’ve been given overly supportive parents, and yet Horikoshi looked at his creation and thought: I’m now gonna create a horrible mother for this child.

It just shows that it doesn’t actually matter what female characters are like; they are solely an extension of a male character and thus it doesn’t matter at all what they are like, what they say, or what they do. There are no consequences for characters like Mitsuki because her only purpose is to explain to us why Bakugou is the way he is. But his character is about how his obsession with Deku negatively affects his life and so since his family problems are not the focus of his character, the story doesn’t bother telling us that she is bad or that she should apologize to Bakugou and better herself.

Aside from the female students and mothers, we get the Pro Heroes. Midnight and Mt. Lady are two of the female Pro Heroes that come to mind first. The problem? They don’t get along because women can’t ever be supportive of one another<3 

Aside from that toxic stereotype that girls are always gonna be jealous of another and can’t ever be supportive, we also have their hero outfits, which are pure fan service. And if that wasn’t enough, we get panels like this one from chapter 241:

that are drawing even more attention to their boobs and butts because that is all more important than them being heroes. Could you name me a single male character that was mainly reduced to fan service? Like yes, Dabi is serving looks all the time, but he also has a personality, motivations, goals, etc.

Aside from Horikoshi deciding to objectify them most of the time, he shows us that he is a multitasking king by also making them predatory adults who should not be around kids (and with that, should also not be heroes or teachers), like later on in that same chapter when Mt. Lady is talking to Shouto:

And because we - much like Horikoshi wants us to - find Shouto’s reactions/responses so funny, it distracts from the weird comments Mt. Lady makes, like “if a looker like you suddenly showed up, I think my heart would burst out of my chest” and “he’s cute. I want him” - please stop. You are literally an adult. I get that his inability to understand social cues can make him seem really cute and funny, but there are more appropriate things to say. Or to quote Mr. Compress (once again proving that the League has more standards than the heroes): “What an odd thing to say. [He] doesn’t belong to anyone.”

Similarly, we also have this panel from chapter 67 of Midnight talking to Mineta:

Like... what the fuck?? Who thinks this is okay??

I know all of this is supposed to be for comedy purposes, but this is just outright disgusting, especially when it comes from an adult and is said to a minor. 

The female characters already get treated awfully, no reason to make them weird too.

Another thing that is common in bnha in regards to female characters is how they are treated in comparison to the male characters. There is already an obvious trend of treating the villains worse than the heroes, by having villains either receive long-lasting damage (i.e. Compress losing his arm during the Overhaul arc and now losing even more of his body; Dabi’s body constantly being burned more etc.) or just get killed off altogether (i.e. Magne and Twice). The heroes, on the other hand, constantly survive everything (i.e. Twice died from being stabbed once, whereas Bakugou essentially survived the same kind of situation). That same logic also gets applied to gender: of course the male characters also get their fair share of damage, though this is more due to the fact that they make up the majority of characters and get more involved in fights than the female characters, who are usually not part of the big/boss fights. However, the women get treated a whole lot worse - out of all the heroes that got hurt during the current arc, Miruko was the most explicit one, where we get panels of her losing her limbs, whereas several chapters later when Aizawa cuts off his own leg, we only see the knife being moved toward his leg.

We also constantly get very questionable panels for the female characters, like this one of Tsuyu from chapter 66:

This panel of Toga from chapter 226:

Or him just straight-up including a panel of a naked Toga, aka a minor, earlier this arc when she met up with Uraraka.

Speaking of Toga, she really is the most interesting out of all the female characters - she isn’t just a one-dimensional character, but one with her own deep backstory: judged for her quirk by everyone in her life, forcing her to pretend to be someone she isn’t until she couldn’t hold it in anymore. The League is her family and her home because they are the people that always accept her. She plays a big role in the League and gets plenty of action and screen time; she is significant during every part that includes the League. While Dabi, friendly as he is, calls her crazy (an attitude that isn’t just limited to her), they all respect her and never judge her for her quirk or treat her as less. Although much like Uraraka, she has an annoying obsession with Deku, she is still mostly shown to have other significant people in her life (= the League) and even earlier this arc when she wonders whether the heroes saw Twice as human or not, she wants to ask this question, which is very important to her, to Uraraka - not Deku. 

To kinda sorta sum it up: Toga feels like the most realistic out of all of them because she has equal screentime to the rest of the League. She has her own reasons, ambitions, and dreams. Yes, she likes to talk about her love for Stain and Deku, and that is due to Horikoshi adding a bunch of stuff for comedic purposes, even though they do more harm than good. Toga as a character is written really well, but even she can’t escape Horikoshi’s inability to not be a creep about female characters.

As for the adult women, in cases like Mitsuki, Midnight, or Mt. Lady it’s absolutely fine apparently for them to be inappropriate with kids because those words and actions are all supposed to be funny. Even Mineta gets constantly called out for being inappropriate, but none of the female characters seem to matter enough to Horikoshi to actually put thought into them and call them out for weird behavior.

There’s probably a whole lot more I could say here, but that’s what I could think of at the top of my head (which is far too much btw).

I really wish Horikoshi would put more effort into writing layered female characters that aren’t just there for fan service, comedic purposes, or exist for the purpose of male characters and their development. I wish he would stop being creepy about them and drawing weird panels of them, or more explicit panels of them than the male characters. Yes, he draws them with slightly different body types, but that’s really not enough to claim that he is good at writing female characters, especially when there is so much evidence against it.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Sorry, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Ghost mode is officially dead. It was stronger than me.

I will, however, disappear from tumblr once Release Week begins, but in the mean time enjoy some words that I wrote.

In which she makes a friend, Part Seven

“Cassian, for Cauldron’ sake, stop with your fidgeting”

“I am not fidgeting, Azriel” Cassian said, eyeing the females training and making sure that Devlon was at least trying to teach them.

“You almost blinded me with your wings three times in the last ten minutes” the Shadowsinger huffed back, taking a step back and putting some distance between them.

Cassian just snorted but did check himself, realising he really was flaring his wings a little, a nervous tick that came out whenever he was distressed with something.

Not that he was recalling his conversation with Nesta during training yesterday, how he had been delighted to see her improvement and her beginning to master her powers.

Not that he was remembering how he could hear her heart beating quickly when he had pulled her close.

Not that he had had to muster every ounce of strength and control he had to not fall at her feet and beg for a kiss, for a touch, for anything when he smelled her scent.

Not that he had felt guilty of not telling her of the Illyrian revolution that was probable to happen.

Not that he was remembering how his heart had stopped when he asked her if she wanted to leave.

He would do that. Would help her walk away. From him, from the situation Feyre had forced upon her. But it didn’t mean it would not hurt him to watch her go.

Didn’t mean he would not reach the conclusion that he had failed her once again.

Cassian thought he and Nesta were making progress, but after yesterday he stopped trying to convince himself of that.

Things between them were awkward when they saw each other again at the afternoon training with Kaelin, and for once he was grateful for the boy’s constant chattering.

It was a good way to take his mind of his worries.

And the way Nesta seemed to relax and almost smile whenever Kaelin said something or nailed move was a relief to Cassian’s troubled heart. It was an accidental blessing that he cherished with all his life.

No, Cassian preferred to think that his actual state of mind was due to all the new documents and information he would have to go through after Azriel’s arrival, and maybe a little bit worried of how Nesta’s and Azriel’s encounter would go.

He knew her and his brother were not close — he had never even seen they talking to one another — but Cassian worried that Azriel’s presence may bring forth uncomfortable memories of the rest of the IC to Nesta, neither having the best relationship, specially after that party at the Sidra in summer solstice.

Cassian could only hope and pray that the little progress he had seen Nesta go through in five months would not go down the drain.

“There are more females today” Azriel noted, taking Cassian out of his daydreaming.

“There are” he looked over the training ring, eyeing the small group of eleven Illyrian females.

It was the biggest number he’d ever had so far.

After the war with Hybern, the death of many Illyrians took its tool in the ranks. Although it was a reason for dissatisfaction to arise, it was surprising to see a number of females wanting to train. Many had lost fathers, brothers or lovers.

They had realised that nobody would protect them except themselves now, and slowly the number of females appearing had gotten bigger.

Some came and stayed only for a few self defence classes. Some were coming steadily for more than one session.

Cassian didn’t care if they wanted to be warriors or not. The fact that they were coming and wanted to learn was enough for him.

“Baby steps Cassian” he thought, hope blooming on his chest for the first time in a long while as Devlon dismissed the group, for once having taught them with more attention.

Cassian suspected Azriel’s presence was a weight on the camp lord’s mind, and an undesirable reminder to try this time.

“I’ve to stop somewhere first before we go back” Cassian said to the shadowsinger, who watched Devlon leave the training ring without a glance in their direction.

Azriel only shrugged, not minding the delay at dinner and indicating that he’d accompany Cassian.

Not long after, both Illyrians were entering a clothier, the bell in the door chiming and announcing their presence.

“Look who decided to pay a visit”

“Now, did the oh so ruthless Emerie miss me?” Cassian smirked, leaning against the polished counter where Emerie was.

“It was not me who was left for two months alone in a cabin” she retorted, her brown eyes twinkling with wicked delight seeing Cassian’s shocked expression.

“You know—”

“Yes I know Nesta, she was here not so long ago for tea” the female answered, as if Nesta going out and having tea with Illyrians was nothing out of the ordinary.

“How—”

“If she did not tell you of our encounter, I don’t think I should be the one to explain the particulars of our meeting” Emerie cut him again, raising an eyebrow in question.

Cassian was baffled.

“Since when had Nesta befriended Illyrans?” he thought to himself, having mixed feelings about it.

In one hand, he was happy she was putting herself out there, meeting people, living.

On the other hand, he felt a pang of jealousy and hurt go through his heart. Nesta had not told him any of that. Had not bothered to tell him of what she did on her spare time outside the morning and evenings trainings with him.

“But did you give her a reason to trust you?” Cassian thought with regret “Did you ask about her day? Did you tell her about yours?”

Trust was an one way road. And Cassian had lost the map which would direct him to it.

He also had to put himself out there. He had to open himself to Nesta if he wanted to mend their already tethered relationship.

Cassian had to stop being afraid of hurting his heart again when he had already hurt hers.

And he realised that not even another heartbreak would be enough to keep himself away from Nesta.

“But I take you did not come here to chat with me” Emerie said, eyeing Azriel, who was looking at her with curiosity.

“Not this time. But do invite me for tea” he grinned, trying to gather his lost swagger “The weather is about to change. I would like to purchase some clothes before autumn ends”

“The usual?” she asked, returning her sharp gaze to Cassian’s face.

“Today is light shopping,” he answered, dropping some coins on the counter.

Azriel shot him a puzzled look, but Emerie understood him just fine.

She gathered some clothes, and Cassian noticed that she also placed small sized ones too.

Emerie no doubt knew about Kaelin.

And she knew that Cassian would not let the kid go through autumn and then winter with hand me downs and fixed clothes, no matter how good of a seamstress Nesta was.

If Azriel noticed the clothes, he didn’t let it show.

Cassian also thought his brother was too busy inspecting Emerie to noticed anything else.

It had surprised him too the first time.

A female with a will strong enough to fight to be the sole owner of a shop in a place like Illyria.

Emerie had a fire that reminded him of Nesta. No wonder both females had somehow found their way to each other.

“Oh, please put this too” Cassian said, and quickly grabbed a leather strap he had spied on one of the shelves.

“Have you lost another one? I swear, you go through this things as if they’re water” Emerie ruffed, placing it with the rest of the order.

“It’s not for me.”

“Thinking of gifting it to Nesta?” Azriel said with a chuckle “Tell her to braid her hair with it?”

“As if Cassian was stupid enough to gift it to a Lady to tie her hair with” Emerie snapped, and Cassian laughed at the shocked expression on Azriel’s face “He knows her better than you think he does.”

“Charming as ever Emerie” Cassian said, gathering his purchase and bidding the female goodbye.

This time, Cassian didn’t fail to notice how his brother’ shadows were agitated.

And how they kept trying to go back to the clothier.

~•~

Cassian stopped breathing. Stopped living altogether as he looked at Nesta.

Nesta, who was sitting on the couch, reading.

He didn’t even have a mind to say how she did not light the fireplace, not as he saw what she wearing.

Because Nesta Archeron was not wearing one of her usual dresses.

She was wearing the clothes Cassian had left in her drawer all those months ago, when she had first arrived at Illyria. Clothes he not seen her ever wearing.

Until today.

Cassian had seen Nesta wearing pants. Hell, he saw her almost everyday now wearing the leathers, and his reaction at their first training was not so different as to when he had seen her at the war.

He had to constantly remind himself to breath and think with his upper head. To not make a fool out of himself.

But this time it was different.

Because Nesta was wearing leggings.

Mother’s tits, what had he been thinking when he left those leggings in her drawer?

Nesta wore dark leggings and a burgundy sweater, a little big on her due to her still too thin figure, something Cassian hoped to change.

And her hair. Cauldron, her hair was not on its usual coronet, but a loose braid, a few strands of her light hair falling over her eyes.

Cassian wanted to brush them behind her pointed ear.

Wanted to kiss and mark her slim neck. Feel her pulse under her soft skin.

Wanted to cover her body with his wings and scream at Azriel to leave.

But he did none of that. He willed his body and his temper to behave, and cleared his throat, making Nesta look up from her book.

Even though he was sure she had been monitoring their every breaths as soon as they arrived at the cabin.

“Hello Ness, did you have a pleasant day?” he tried, wanting to test her mood.

“I was having one until someone decided to disturb it” she answered, but Cassian noticed she did not put so much bite in her words as she did when she truly was annoyed “And don’t call me that”

“Well, I come bearing presents” doing a mocking bow and bracing himself for the worst, he looked at Azriel.

The shadowsinger’ Siphons gleamed, and a brown package appeared on the small table in front of Nesta.

“What is that”

A memory of a conversation during Winter Solstice, outside among the snow, resurfaced, and Cassian quickly shut it down.

“Tell you and ruin the surprise?” Cassian faked outrage, placing a hand on his heart “As if I could do that. You will want it.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

Cassian resisted the urge to close his eyes and scream in pain. Those words, that memory, kept appearing against his better wishes.

He had been an asshole.

Had regretted his words the moment they had left his mouth.

He had wanted to get a reaction from Nesta. Do it the way it usually was between them.

Blown being met by blown.

Fire against fire.

He had been stupid to think it would work.

Had been even more stupid to not apologise afterwards.

But this Nesta was not the Nesta from his memories. Was not the Nesta from a year ago.

He could only hope her reaction would be different.

“Are those... are those books?” Nesta asked, trying to hide her surprise as she opened it, reading the titles.

“I thought you would have gotten bored of reading the same books over and over again” Cassian said, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he thought he was.

“And they must be more interesting than my military books” he added, indicating the long forgotten book Nesta had been reading when he arrived.

Nesta only looked at him and slightly dipped her chin in gratitude.

Cassian wanted to dance in happiness at that.

“Good to know that now you have a personal delivery boy to get whatever I want” Nesta said, directing her words at Azriel.

“As if I would do it for free” he snorted “Cassian promised to cook my favorite dish in payment. He’s the errand guy.”

“He does seem to like to be bossed around” she commented innocently, and that earned her a rare grin from Azriel.

“He also requested children’s books” the shadowsinger eyed her figure and raised an eyebrow “You two need a chaperone up here?”

Cassian tensed, not knowing what to expect from Nesta.

“Are you looking for a new job? Playing spy getting too boring?” Nesta replied, also raising a perfect eyebrow mockingly.

“Perhaps” was all the shadowsinger said, and Cassian took that as a cue to get between them.

“They’re for Kaelin, I thought they’d be easier books to read for now than the ones we have here”

Cassian had asked Azriel to get some old myths books for Kaelin, nothing too childlike but also not too difficult for him. He hadn’t wanted to offend the kid by giving him something too easy, having seen his progress with Nesta.

“And who is that anyway?” Azriel asked.

“He’s our new roommate” Cassian joked, not failing to notice how Nesta had flinched slightly when Azriel had asked about Kaelin.

“Kaelin is too young to live like he had been living” Nesta declared, stiffening her spine “I took him in. And he’s going to stay here”

Azriel said nothing, his shadows seeming to catch something in Nesta’s voice, and his eyes softened.

“I’m sure he’s nothing but nice if he’s keeping up with Cassian” he attempted “I’d like to meet him”

Just then, they heard the door opening.

“Ah, there he is!” Cassian exclaimed, a smile appearing.

That smile, however, weakened as Kaelin came into view, quieter than usual.

And Cassian thought he’d have to be the one to wear that leather strap in the end.

For Kaelin’s hair — once a wild mess of curls, who constantly feel on his eyes — had been sloppily cut, no curl at view.

In fact, he looked nothing like Kaelin at all.

There was a tension in him that had not been there before, the young Illyrian brown eyes’ seeming to look bigger on his face now that they were not hidden by his bangs anymore.

And the short cropped hairstyle that Kaelin now displayed also made the fresh bruises on his face even more alarming.

•

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[kareofbears]

plainly in truth, chapter 5/5

"Without you around, it's sorta like stuff is just kinda...bleh."

Or: hiding, confiding, and misguiding.

read the final chapter below or the entire work on ao3

—

“Help us, Saras—” a stream of coughing rings out, eating up the rest of the words.

“What the hell happened!?”

“I don’t know! One minute he was kicking ass, and the next—”

“He’s down! Oracle, scan him for signs of life.”

Their voices sound far and muffled, like he was under a foot of ice.

“He’s alive, I know he is. Kikur…” More coughing, wet and almost retching. “Dammit!”

“Skull hasn’t moved in ages and we pumped him with more Diaharan than we know what to do with!”

“Then why isn’t he moving?”

He feels like he got hit with back-to-back garbage trucks, all fully loaded with an entire city’s trash and was going eighty down the freeway.

“I...I don’t know…!”

“Why not? Why the hell not?”

“Joker!”

“Unicorn—” Actual retching comes this time, sporadically. “Why isn’t—!”

“Please stop! You’re only going to get yourself hurt!”

“Akira. Quit it, or I’ll cast a Dormin so strong you’ll wake up next year.”

A groan escapes his lips, and all arguing stops.

“Oh thank god,” Makoto’s voice sighs in relief. “Skull? Can you hear us?”

“Skull?” A leather-clad hand touches his cheek. “Are you with me?”

Ryuji suddenly bolts upright. “Konoe!” The whole world lurching sideways but he ignores the nausea. “Where is he?”

“Gone,” Yusuke replies. He’s looking slightly better than when he last saw him, able to stand on his feet again. “Disappeared, just like the rest of them. In no small part thanks to you.”

“It was more than that,” Haru disagrees. “It was nearly completely thanks to him. Your last battle with him was quite a spectacle.”

“It really was,” Sophia agrees. “You got hit near the end, though.”

“Oh,” he forces a laugh. “My bad. Must’ve worried you guys. Thanks for the heal.”

“‘Thanks for the heal’?”

Any levity that was present gets sucked away as Akira pulls his hand away from him, expression unreadable. “It wasn’t just a heal, Ryuji. It was a Recarm.”

He winces, eyes darting away. “That must’ve been scary for you,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

“I’m not interested in an apology. I’m looking for an explanation.”

“What am I supposed to explain? He caught me off guard, it happens. I might be good, but I’m not getting out of a fight with the creator of the Metaverse Part Two without a scratch.”

“It was a scratch. I’ve seen you take bullets better than that,” Akira says flatly. “The strangest thing about all this is that I think you knew about this. I think you knew what would happen if you got hit, no matter how light it was.”

Do not panic. Do not panic. “Spit it out. What are you trying to say?”

“I think something’s up and you’re hiding something from me.”

“Guys,” Futaba whispers. “Don’t fight.”

Akira turns on her, taking in her expression for a long moment before his eyes widen. “You know about it,” he realizes.

“What?!”

“You knew that he changed, and you didn’t tell me.” His eyes flashed. “Futaba, he could’ve died, and you didn’t say anything.”

“Stop it.” Ann’s voice was low and hard. “Don’t take out what you’re feeling on her.”

Looking away from Futaba, Akira scans each and everyone of their faces, and it dawns on him. “You knew.” Hurt takes up every syllable, heavy but small at the same time. “You all knew, and nobody told me. I can’t believe this.”

“Don’t get mad at them,” Ryuji snaps. There’s no way he’s letting his friends take the fall for his own actions. “You’re getting worried over nothing. I took a hit—that’s it. Bad guy defeated, let’s move on.”

“I’m not moving on if people on my team, people that I thought I could trust are hiding things from me,” he insists. “Especially you. Dammit, Ryuji, I thought I could trust you!”

His stomach doesn’t twist. Instead, a gigantic pair of scissors made up of Akira’s words goes ahead and snips off his stomach from his intestines, and he’s free falling with nowhere to crash land.

“What the fuck else do you want from me?” Everyone but Akira flinches at his words. “I beat Konoe, didn’t I? You were worried about that, you wanted to retreat because you thought I wouldn’t be able to do it, but I did it!”

“What I want from you is to be safe. That’s it.”

“But that shouldn’t be the only thing you want! Don’t you want us to win? Don’t you want us to be able to finish what we started?”

Akira shakes his head, frustrated, and starts rummaging through his pockets.

“What are you doing?”

“We aren’t fighting here.” A Goho-M flashes in his palm, and before anyone can say anything, they blink and suddenly they’re at the entrance of the Jail again. “Everyone, get out.”

Ryuji glares at him as the rest scurries to the entrance as quickly as possible without making it look like they’re making a run for it. Akira stares back.

“...Fine.”

The familiar but unpleasant swirl between the transition of the Jail and the real world takes over them, feeling their cells tear apart from each other before instantly clicking back into place, and then they were at the foot of the Tenboto tower.

Akira’s eyes don’t leave his. “Everyone who isn’t Ryuji, go find something else to do. We need some time to talk.”

Nobody questions it except for Futaba. “Um, do you want me to take—”

He shoves his hand in his pocket and throws his phone at her. Usually, the rose gold shade always makes him crack a smile, but he doesn’t even look at it this time. “Here.”

When she still doesn’t leave, Akira spares her a glance. “What is it?”

“Don’t...don’t be too harsh on him.”

“Don’t push it. I’m still upset that you didn’t say anything about this.”

Futaba’s head falls downwards as she walks away, Sophia in tow.

“So?” Ryuji crosses his arms. “Are we good?”

“No, we are not good, Ryuji. You argued with me over something stupid, spat in my face and deliberately went against with what I knew would be better for all of us, and worse than all of that, you knew that your defense is down by an insane amount.”

“Who cares if it’s down! Get the fuck over it, we already won.”

Akira's jaw goes slack. “Who are you? Why are you acting like this? What’s gotten into your head that you’re trying to pretend that I don’t care about your health and your safety?”

“Because you shouldn’t,” he insists. “You’re slowing the rest of us down by doing this whole hero schtick—if you just focus on what we need to do rather than something like my god damn endurance then things would go so much faster!”

“I don’t give a shit about efficiency, and do you have any idea what it even means for you to have a drastic change in your Persona? Or are you just looking for another stupid thing to argue about?”

He draws back, shame instinctively bubbling at the implication. “No, but it can’t be that damn important for us to be fighting like this.”

“Personas are the strength of the heart,” Akira roughly prods at his chest. “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever you believe in, your Persona would reflect that.”

“Okay? So what?”

A shift overcomes his expression, and Akira closes his eyes. When he speaks, it’s like he’s an ethereal being rather than a boy his age. “You seek power, correct? Since your name has been disgraced already, why not hoist the flag and wreak havoc?”

“The ‘other you’ who exists within desires it thus,” Ryuji finishes, frowning. “Why do you have that memorized?”

“Because I’ve memorized everyone’s awakenings, and because I think that’s the reason why you can’t take a hit anymore but you can throw a punch the way you can,” Akira shoots back. “You awakened your Persona to ‘wreak havoc’ on the people who piss you off, right?”

“Yeah.” His patience is waning thin. “What’s your point?”

“What if that feeling—rage against corrupt adults, your need to wreak havoc on them—what if that gets flipped around and you direct that on yourself?”

“What?” Ryuji shakes his head. “Is that even possible?”

“I can almost guarantee it, because your stats are shuffling like crazy. Your endurance is down, yeah, but do you know what skyrocketed in its place? What nearly tripled?”

“My strength?”

“Exactly. Look, I don’t know what happened, but something has shifted in your heart enough to make you believe that it’s more important to be strong than to keep yourself alive.”

Akira shoves his glasses higher on his nose, and Ryuji swallows when he sees his hand shake. “Tell me. Please. I won’t get mad, or disappointed, or whatever you think I’ll feel if you tell me. I just want you to be honest with me. I want us to work this out.”

It’s the way he says it, like it’s really that simple. Like the two of them can take on any problem together, no matter how big it is, because it’s them. They’re two pieces of a puzzle—they can only ever see the bigger picture when they both click into place. It would be easy, because Akira makes it easy.

A droplet of rain lands hard on his shoulder. He opens his mouth.

“Just because I’m not telling you something, doesn’t it mean gives you the right to hound the fuck out of me until I cave.”

Akira recoils like he’s been slapped in the face. “I just want to understand.”

“And I just want you to leave me alone, okay?” He wipes away the rain from his face only for it to be replaced almost immediately. “You don’t—you just don’t fucking get it, Kurusu. You have no idea what it’s like being a piece of shit, you have no idea what it’s like being a moron, with everyone hating you—”

What? He doesn’t mean that. Of course Akira gets it. That’s how they got to know each other in the first place.

“You don’t know what it’s like to hear so much shit about you wherever you go—”

That’s not true, either. Why is he saying this?

“To have no one even take a look at you, to be a ghost, to not even exist anymore—”

Are you kidding? That’s all Akira lives through in his hometown.

Ryuji levels a gaze at him, chest burning. “You don’t know what it’s like being nothing,” he finishes.

Akira stands there, staring at him, refusing to wipe the rain away from his face. His mouth opens, before closing again, and shakes his head. His movements are jerky and stilted.

When Akira looks up, his eyes are empty. “You don’t know a single thing about me.”

He turns around and walks away without another word, leaving Ryuji to stand alone, drenched in the rain and feeling like gasoline is eating through his chest, and all he can do is burn.

Osaka has bright lights and has the scent of mouth-watering in its every nook and cranny, but the only thing Ryuji can process right now is the squelch of his socks with every step he takes.

He’s only vaguely aware that he’s moving, traversing through Dotonbori in a hazed state. It’s like his consciousness left his body, trapped and distant, the burning in his chest turned into something smoldering, filling his entire being with suffocating smoke.

Ryuji’s spent who knows how long staggering through the streets, unfamiliar sights with unfamiliar people, and none of it has the same excitement that normally comes with them visiting a new place. The rain hasn’t let up, and his t-shirt has long since been soaked through. His body is still crazy sore, with his ankles begging for rest, but the idea of stopping makes him nauseous.

A large body hits his shoulder, and it nearly knocks him sideways. “Watch where you’re going, dumbass.”

“S-sorry,” he manages, but the stranger is already gone by the time he finishes.

Ryuji scrubs his eyes and looks up, surprised that he isn’t horrifically lost. He’s at one of the dual bridges in Dotonbori, a place that he recognizes because he and Ann stuffed their faces with so much takoyaki they could barely breathe afterwards.

His body sags against the bridge’s concrete railing, exhaustion making itself known, forearms pressed in an odd angle that he knows is going to leave weird patterns etched into his skin. In his pocket, his phone buzzes angrily, but he ignores it.

He scrubs his eyes again, harder. He hasn’t cried, which sucks. In fact, he hasn’t even felt the familiar panic build up in him, and he didn’t even know it was possible to miss that feeling. The feeling of something other than the gaping hole inside of him, only getting bigger.

For the first time in his life, he wishes he was angry, just so he can stop feeling this never-ending plane of nothing.

That’s a lie, actually—there’s some anger, too. A lot of it. At himself.

His phone buzzes again, and Ryuji can’t even muster a meager response. I’m fine, don’t worry, is what he’s supposed to say.

Bullshit. All he can ever do is say bullshit, over and over again.

Pressing his forehead against the edge of the concrete, he grits his teeth, staring down at his hands, miserable and desperate for something to take away this gnawing feeling inside of him, eating its way through his gut like an insatiable parasite. He tries focusing on the waves lapping against the stone below him, on the pitter-patter of the rain that’s coating his skin, on the chatter from the people behind him, but he can’t because all he can see behind his eyelids is the hurt in Akira’s face and the crack in his voice when he spoke and it’s Ryuji’s fault because he fucking sucks and he’s incapable of keeping anything good in his life and he’s trying to cry but it’s not coming, why isn’t he crying, please let him get some fucking relief, why can’t he cry—

A shadow casts over him, and he’s about to move out of the way when shoes enter his periphery. Standard sneakers except for colorful beads tied into the shoelaces.

“Yo,” Futaba greets, holding an umbrella over him.

Ryuj tries for a laugh, but it comes out hollow and pathetic. “You track my phone?”

“No.” There’s a pause. “Akira mentioned that you have a thing for bridges.”

His heart goes utterly still, before beating into overdrive. “Leave me alone,” he finds himself saying. “Just fucking get out of here, Futaba.”

“No.”

“No?” It’s sick how fiercely glad he is to be able to grasp onto anger like a lifeline. “I don’t want to be around anyone, don’t you get it? Leave me alone, Jesus, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one in the group.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“And why not?”

“Because you didn’t leave me, even when I really, really wanted you to.” The gaze behind her eyes is unreadable. “You dragged me out of my tomb, screaming and kicking, but you didn’t let go.”

His lungs tightened up. “I don’t want to be around anyone right now,” he says weakly.

“Then I’m not here.” Futaba readjusts her grip on the umbrella, careful that he was still covered. She trains her eyes on a random point in the distance, away from him. “No one’s here. I’m just another stranger, and you’re just some guy who’s talking to the rain.”

They stand there for a while, unspeaking. Each passing second lets the aggravation seep out of him, bit by bit.

“Can…” he tries eventually. Maybe he can let it out, just a little bit. Enough to stop the boiling froth from spilling over the pot, maybe the water would stop rising. “Can I ask you a question?”

When she doesn’t answer, he looks down into the black water.

“What’s it like hating yourself?” he asks. “Like, really, really hating yourself. All you want to do is hide, in your room or away from everyone else. You don’t want to die, you don’t want to disappear, either. You just want to...stop. To the point where you don’t even know what you want anymore—do you want to just keep hiding? Do you want to tell everyone, to finally let someone know? To let the one person who fucking matters know what’s happening to you?”

A boat passes underneath them, and he can see a couple drinking together, laughing. “Isn’t it so embarrassing? You failed so fucking much, and you’re only making it worse by hiding it from everyone. You hid it so much, you were so unwilling to let them know, that you actually ran the damn risk of them leaving.”

The last of Ryuji’s resolve, weak as it was already, crumbles. Something inside Ryuji cracks, and his eyes are wide, so wide they might roll out of their sockets. “I couldn’t tell him, Futaba,” he rasps out. “I couldn’t—what if he leaves me? What if I lose the only damn thing that made my life something worth getting out of my room for? What’s going to happen when he realizes I’m nothing more than the kid with the fucked up leg who failed high school?”

Futaba continues to listen in silence, unable to hold back the streams of hot tears running down her cheeks.

“He loves me,” he says this with an unshakeable force, an unforeseen barrier unwilling to be broken down by anything. “I know that for a fact. But—” he sucks in a breath, and before he can stop himself, he leans his body over the bridge.

“I’m so fucking selfish!” he yells. “I can’t! I can’t tell him! I can’t face another failure, I can’t do it, it’s going to kill me, I swear to god. I failed myself, I failed all of you,” he wildly gestures at her. “I failed my mom, but I can’t fail him. Not him, anyone but him.”

“Sir Sakamoto Ryuji.”

He turns his head to her with a crumpled expression, and she wipes her face with her sleeve before grabbing his hand, pulling him away from the bridge. Ryuji is too surprised to resist. ”W-what?”

She doesn’t turn back, and despite her hoarse voice, her words don’t shake. “I will not let you continue your great sin of wrath unto yourself. You cannot,” she tugs harder, and he stumbles forward. “You cannot keep yourself in this, this darkness of hatred and anger, and thus I, Sakura Futaba, a member of the Phantom Thieves, have decided to intervene.”

“Was—” It took a lot of effort, but he composed himself enough to keep up with her short legs. “Was that a calling card?”

“You’re damn right it is, with or without the fancy paper.” Futaba glances back, and her eyes are shining and determined. “I wasn’t ready at all when you guys showed up in my room to take my heart, but good thing you did, because that was exactly what I needed. So here I am dragging you out, kicking and all. You’re going to tell Akira—”

“I can’t,” he pleads, weakly crossing the street when she keeps pulling. “Dude, I just told you why I absolutely cannot.”

“You’re going to, and that’s final.”

“No!”

And to his absolute shock, she stops in the middle of the road, expression defiant. Cars honk and flip them off, but it does nothing to deter her.

“Get out of the way!” he screams, roughly pulling at her, but Futaba doesn’t budge. “Get off the road!”

“Welcome to my ultimatum: I’m not moving until you go to him!” she points directly at him, ignoring the way headlights flash over her and puddles splash on her shorts. “You say he loves you? Cool, now prove to him that you love him.”

Ryuji rolls up his sleeves. “I’m going to carry you off of the street, you gremlin.”

“Try me, because I’m going to scream so loud,” she says seriously, and he knows she is.

“You’re insane!” he yells back, because she is.

“And you’re a moron, and it’s not because you couldn’t do academic whatnot!” Her glare is hot steel and he’s nothing more than a warm stick of butter. “He’s known you since day one, has seen you at bedrock level, and he’s still following you around like you’re some kind of queen bee and he’s the hive. You’re going to talk to him, or I swear on my mom’s grave that I’m going to jump in front of a big truck and you’re gonna have to be the one to explain to everyone why I died.”

Screw it. He rushes forward, picks her up and, because she’s never been one to back down in anything, she screams from the top of her lungs until he eventually sets her down on the other side of the road.

“Hey!” she stomps her foot. “That’s cheating!”

“Are you out of your damn mind?”

“No more than you, you clown!” she yells. “Why don’t you want to tell him?!”

“I already told you why!”

“Then what if he felt the same? What if this happened to him, and he kept it from you this entire time?”

The thought is enough to make him feel uneasy. “He doesn’t feel the same.”

“But what if he did?” Futaba insists.

“Then of course I’d want to know,” he answers before he can stop himself, and quickly adds, “But he doesn’t.”

“If he was, though, then you—” she prods his chest. “Are hurting him. You’re hurting him, and I thought you loved him, and I thought you didn’t want to disappoint him. You’re a gigantic hypocrite, and screw being a bad boyfriend,” she spits the word as if eager to rid it off her tongue. “You’re being a really freaking bad best friend.”

They stare each other down, with Futaba breathing hard and him, completely unseeing.

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she says immediately. “But elaborate.”

“I’m being a really, really bad best friend.” His fingers make their way to the root of his hair and starts pulling. “I made this entire thing about me, and my problems.”

“To be fair, they were pretty big problems.”

“Yeah but...holy shit, I completely—I completely forgot that this trip is about Akira and to make sure that he’s smiling, and happy, and stress-free and—I fucked all of that to hell.”

“You did,” she agrees, relentless. “Totally screwed the pooch, but hey, you know what? There’s a big plus sign to all of this:” Futaba throws up jazz hands weakly. “You can still fix this!”

“I can still fix this…” he repeats, in a daze, and he slaps his face with both hands. “I can still fix this, dammit! This isn’t going to be another failure; I’m going to take this,” he wildy gesticulates around himself. “And shred it down so Akira doesn’t have to worry anymore. I’ll talk to him, he’ll understand, and we’re going to have a fan-fucking-tastic rest of the summer vacation, even if my life is horrible and falling apart.”

She nods enthusiastically. “But we can all fix it together once we get back home. One step at a time. First,” she levels him with a look. “You’re going to talk to Akira.”

“I have to. He’s had my back since day one, and I promise I’d do anything for him.” Even if it means showing himself, every ugly part of himself, to the most amazing person that’s ever walked on planet earth. The panic twitches inside of him, coming alive again, but he doesn’t push it away. He lets that feeling wash over him, that adrenaline, and he starts jumping on his feet. “I’m going to talk to Akira,” he announces, looking around to see any place that Akira’s eye might catch. “I need to find him, ASAP.”

“Say no more.” She pulls up her phone. “This won’t take more than two minutes.”

Glancing around wildly, something catches his attention, and he grins. “No need. I know exactly where he is.”

“You do?” A hard slap lands on his back, pushing him forward with a yelp. “Then go! Run to him! Get out of your tomb, Ryuji! I’ll see you on the other side!”

He takes a few steps forward, before turning around and quickly taking Futaba in a hug. “Love you, shorty,” he says seriously.

“I love you too.” She hugs him back tightly before letting go. “Get out of here before you find a new insecurity to change your mind.”

Ryuji opts to ignore that last bit and sets off, sneakers slapping the wet concrete as he runs, Tenboto Tower already in his sights.

“Akira!”

Everyone jumps as he slams the glass entrance open, loud and unyielding as he runs past tourists, wildly taking in each of their faces and pausing at none of them. He sucks at everything—at school, at being a good friend, at basic communication. But this? Facing public humiliation in front of strangers?

“Akira!”

He can do this any day of the week.

Nervous employees start to approach him and Ryuji books it before they can get close. Not on the ground floor, but he knew that before he even came in here. Elevator, he thinks, skidding to a halt to see that it’s already six floors up. It would take too long.

Letting out a sharp breath, he lets his feet take him to the stairwell, apathetic to the fact that he’s about to sprint up eighty-eight meters.

He’s an idiot. A moron. World’s biggest buffoon. That doesn’t surprise anyone, least of all him.

The soles of his sneakers squeak as it slaps against concrete stairs, using the railing to propel him up faster.

And he hates it. He fucking hates being the dumb one so much that it hurts.

A couple that was making out screams when he barely dodges them, and he doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

He wants nothing more than to bury that part of him. Shamefully, completely. Like a corpse, or some ancient artifact. Gone for the rest of time.

Sweat streams down his back and it’s gross and he doesn’t care, not one damn bit.

But if burying it means destroying what he built with Akira? If scrambling to hide actually makes things worse when the only thing he wanted was to preserve what the two of them have?

His throat is drying up and he can feel his thighs about to split in half, but he keeps going, keeps running.

Then screw it—the whole world is about to know what a big failure he is.

Ryuji bursts through the door to the top deck, gasping for breath and dozens of heads turn to him. Gulping down as much air as his lungs can take in, “Akira!?” he booms, and he knows he’s being an asshole but he doesn’t care right now.

Nothing happens. He grits his teeth and starts running again, soaked shoes ruining plush carpet as he looks for a familiar patch of messy hair. Ryuji evades tourists left and right, around gift shop stalls and hundred yen telescopes, ignoring the picturesque view from the huge glass windows. Just like he thought—from up here, it looks eerily like you were overlooking the entire city of Tokyo if you were desperate for any sense of familiarity.

And that’s exactly what Akira had needed at the time.

Come on, come on. He’s about to hit a full circle around the observation deck and he still hasn’t spotted him. I know you’re here. There’s no way that you’d be anywhere else in the city.

Ryuji takes in another breath, ready to yell out his name for the upteenth time, when he sees an open balcony, nearly empty except for a boy leaned over the parapet, eerily still and barely underneath the glass covering above him.

Despite his earlier fervor, Ryuji slows down to a walking pace, chest heaving and feeling like his heart is going to burst.

It’ll be okay. It’s him.

He takes his place beside him, mimicking his pose, leaning over the cool metal railings. Akira doesn’t even look up, which is what he deserves, really. The wind is light, and the city sparkles below them.

No games. No bullshit. Just him and his best friend.

“I failed second-year,” he says. “And also I think I’m at a real, real low point in my life.”

Akira’s face flits in mild surprise, but Ryuji doesn’t stop, doesn’t want to give himself an out.

He starts from the very beginning—from getting called into his homeroom, to Ushimaru giving him a look that said he expected this because that’s ‘just the type of student he is’, to hiding it from his mom, from Ann, from him. He tells him how being alone is tiring, but being with people is exhausting.

And the tears. The minute he started talking, the tears came and kept coming no matter how many times he wiped it away. At first he thought it was from humiliation, at the guilt from keeping it from Akira. But after a while, he realizes that keeping this huge, weighty, life-altering secret from Akira was hurting him, too. It’s like the entire sky got lifted off of him, and he can finally breathe again. For the first time, he feels relieved.

Akira stands there, silent the entire time, not looking at him but he knows he’s soaking in every word that he’s saying.

Ryuji stands up straight and faces him. His voice is barely above a whisper, used up and crackled like dried out stone. “Akira, I’m so, so sorry. I said horrible shit and I kept you in the dark for so long, and-and I forced everyone not to say anything because of my own issues, and I could’ve—” he flinches when he remembers feeling his life deplete out of him from a single hit. “I could’ve died, dude. And I kept it from you over something so petty like being bad at algebra. I know I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I know that now, and hindsight is a bit of a bastard.” He looks down, sees people from below, small as ants. “There’s no good excuse, I get that. It’s just...I was fucking terrified, dude. Of whatever you see in me fading away once you see me for what I actually am.”

Ruffling his own hair, he lets out a long breath. “Alright. I’m done. It’s your turn, if you want it.”

“Is that really how you feel?” Akira asks, emotionless.

“With my entire body.”

His feelings are twisted together between shock that he actually did it, and earth-shattering fear that something bad might happen. No, Akira would never in a million years openly mock him, but he can easily imagine a small, faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. An it’s okay. I get it. A shallow hug and a kiss on the cheek. An obligatory comfort that Akira feels he has to give but Ryuji never wanted.

But what he didn’t expect was for Akira to suddenly start laughing.

Ryuji stares in shock as his shoulders, always straight back, hunches in on itself, shaking uncontrollably, hands instinctively flitting to his mouth but unable to hold in the snort that escapes through his lips.

“Uh,” he asks, confused. “What?”

“I—” Akira tries, but doubles over, gripping the metal railing. “Give me a second, sorry—”

They stand there for a few long minutes, Ryuji bewildered and Akira laughing harder than he’s ever seen him. Whenever he looks like he’s about to finish, Akira gives him a look, and starts laughing uncontrollably again.

Eventually, he sobers up enough to resume his earlier position. “Ryuji,” the smile is still stuck on his lips. “I love you.”

“...Okay?” he replies, still lost.

“And I’ve been in therapy since April.”

The entire world halts to a grinding, screeching halt.

“You’re—” Ryuji fumbles. “You’ve been in what?”

“Therapy.”

“Why?!” When Akira raises an eyebrow at him, he backtracks a little. “Okay, I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s just...surprising.”

He can’t even imagine what kind of metaphor he’d have to use to begin explaining the complexities of a Persona and Palaces. “Is it tough trying to explain all of this?”

“It’s not about the Metaverse or anything,” he says, and, with the slight mirth still stuck on his features, “It’s because I’ve been depressed for a few months now.”

About a trillion questions want to fly out of his mouth right now, but he settles on one for now. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Akira looks up, staring at the few specks of stars that still poke out despite the light pollution of any big city in Japan. “I just think,” he starts. “That I’m really, really lonely.”

Before Ryuji can say anything, he cuts him off with a look. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

“I won’t.”

“Good,” he says, relaxing. “Because it’s not your fault, or anyone else’s. I’ve just…It’s been hard, going back to that life after living such a good one in Tokyo. When I finally came back home, it’s like I was stuck in a time loop. Every day that I stay there,” he stares down at his hands. “Is another day that everyone’s moving on without me.”

Ryuji nearly bites his tongue off in an effort to hold himself back. Move on? Without Akira? Not a snowflake’s chance in hell.

“It didn’t help that no one would even look me in the eye there,” he continues. “It got to the point where the days just blended together, the same cycle of nothing, the same day of being alone, over and over again. Worrying about being forgotten, being trapped and stuck.” Akira’s pale cheeks turn red. “Eventually, my grades started dropping,” he admits. “My parents noticed, because of course they did, and…”

Akira curls his fingers around the bar. “They threatened that they wouldn’t let me go if it stayed down.”

“Son of a bitch,” he hisses, unable to help himself. “What the hell, man?”

“I know,” he agrees. “Bad move on their part, considering that it got even worse after they said that. It’s...it’s actually why I’m getting tutoring now. Not necessarily for Tokyo U, but I really do plan on going to a Tokyo-based university. Because if I don’t…” he trails off.

“I am the only person in the world who isn’t allowed to say this, but,” Ryuji shakes his head. “Why didn’t you say anything, Akira? I could’ve visited you more, or had more phone calls, or, I don’t know. Something to help.” To help you the way you helped me.

“Good question,” he muses, slightly amused. “Alright. Imagine this. You’re a new kid in town with a criminal record. Everyone hates you, more than they usually do, and you were starting to accept that your life is just going to be like this. But suddenly, a guy comes barreling into your life.” Akira’s expression softens. “He’s loud, tough, and extremely cute, and next thing you know, he became your best friend. You don’t know what he sees in you, you don’t know what you did to make him approach you in the first place, but the only thing you know for sure—”

“Is that you’re never letting him go,” Ryuji finishes for him. “Even if it means hiding yourself away, yeah?”

Ryuji’s gazing down at the city beneath them, unseeing. He can’t react the way he wants to, but what the fuck.

Akira is the best person he’s ever met and he’s pretty sure at least twenty other people scattered around the streets of Tokyo would agree with him on that. Yet he hid such a massive secret from Ryuji because he thought that Ryuji would leave him? That’s beyond ridiculous. That’s messed up, that’s—

Ryuji looks up to see that Akira’s already looking back at him, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Yup,” Akira tries to pull it off like he was scratching his cheek, but the shine of the tear makes it obvious. “You got me.”

Finally, Ryuji cracks.

“I’m—” he chokes, wracked with grief. “I’m so fucking sorry. I am so, so sorry, you were going through so much and I didn’t even—”

Akira takes a step back, shocked. “Why are you the one apologizing? I’m the one who was too busy wallowing to notice that you had changed enough that your Persona—”

“Because you’re depressed, and I should’ve been there to help you!”

“And I said that it was never your fault!”

“That doesn’t matter, I should’ve helped you go through that, wait outside the clinic with you, I don’t know!”

“And I made you think that I would have left you if you failed high school, which is insane—!”

“Kurusu, I lied to you. I lied to your face, I said so much shit, I jeopardized the entire team all because I didn’t want to lose you—”

“Don’t,” he pleads. “I know why you did it, but me? I don’t have an excuse. I’m your leader—”

“I’m your partner—”

“I’m your best friend—”

“And I didn’t notice!” they both finish in unison, distraught and breaths heaving, hearts pounding in time with each other, always together.

And then they both laugh; it’s teary, wet, and they probably look insane to any tourist ten feet from them, but they’re cracking up because it’s hilarious. It’s absolutely hysterical that either of them ever believed that they would leave the other over something so stupid as their own perception of themselves.

Ryuji sobers up first, grin so wide that it’s hurting his cheeks. “Can I apologize one last time?”

“No,” he says, voice tender. “I’ve heard enough sorrys to last a lifetime.”

“Come on! Just one more!”

“Just one more,” he relents.

He throws his arm around Akira, squeezing him tight against his side. “I’m sorry that I’m apparently the most good-looking guy you’ve ever seen that you instantly fell in love with me.”

“Dammit,” Akira tries shoving him off weakly. “I knew you were gonna use that against me.”

“Damn right.” He kisses his forehead, gentle despite the rough grip.

“Can I apologize too?”

“Copycat. You can apologize once.”

“Okay.” Hugging Ryuji’s torso, they’re close enough that neither can feel the chill of the wind. “I’m sorry this happened to us,” he says seriously.

Pulling back, Ryuji frowns. “Dude!”

“I know, I know, what a downer. But it’s true.”

“It’s true,” he agrees. “But we can work on this. Together, this time. Like a couple of smart, capable people.”

“That sounds fantastic,” Akira murmurs before leaning forward and catching his lips. He tastes like rainwater and heat. He can feel his own lips twitch into a smile, and the vibration of Akira’s chuckle against his throat. It’s familiar, memorized, but he still makes sure to relearn it every time.

They kiss so deep that the hole inside Ryuji’s chest is full enough to burst.

“Kaboom!” Futaba had said.

The booming sound of a firework rings from up top, illuminating their faces in bright colors in the night. It reflects shades of red, yellow, blue and pink all over the surface of the water like paint buckets that got toppled over in a kindergarten classroom.

Ryuji’s chin is tilted up, watching them explode and take over his entire view of the sky. It’s almost blinding, but he can’t peel his eyes away from them even when he can feel them drying up.

It’s the last day of summer—his worst nightmare.

A purple one sparkles, the sound of the explosion delayed by half a second. He leans his head against Akira’s shoulder, lip quirking up when he feels weight pressing against the crown of his skull.

It’s the last day of summer, but he can’t feel anything but the warmth at his side, fingers intertwined with his, the ringing in his ears. Everything feels more real than they had in the last few months, the haze shifting away, the fog thinning out.

His heart beats strong in his chest. A hand squeezes his tightly.

Kaboom.

The sweat on the back of Ryuji’s neck is thick as he climbs the stairs into the attic of Leblanc, the heat just as intense as it was this time last year.

Stray beams of light poured in from the open window of what has turned into a study cave for any of the thieves to use—cram books of trigonometry to art theory lined the shelves, the walls lined with study good luck charms that they had hoarded from any shrines that they had visited, and day-old tea cups and coffee mugs littered the desks.

Amidst all of that sat Akira, elbows propped up on the table, expression serious. “Happy last day of school,” he says, voice monotone, staring at the thick, impressive envelope in front of him.

“‘Happy’ my ass,” Ryuji flops down on the seat next to him, wood creaking under the sudden weight, nodding at the parchment. “Is that it?”

“If it isn’t, it’s going to be one insane train ride back home to get it.”

“I don’t know how you did it, man. I would’ve torn that thing open the minute I got it.”

Akira gives him an alarmed look. “You didn’t—”

He puts his hands up in surrender, holding a much thinner, yet somehow just as weighty sealed envelope between his fingers before throwing it down with the other. “I didn’t.”

“Good.” Akira doesn’t quite relax, but he lets out a breath. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, a little wobbly. “Moment of truth, huh? Either you got into school…”

“And you passed second-year.”

“Or we don’t.”

The silence that follows is heavy, contemplative, coating the air with something thick and hard to swallow.

Ryuji slams his hand on the table, gut twisting and knotting tightly. “Let’s fucking do this.”

They both reach forward to their corresponding envelopes, hands shaking but neither comment on it. Akira opens his first, and Ryuji very nearly bites it open just to get it over with. He’s suddenly glad that he’s sitting for this. His knees would’ve given out for sure.

Eventually, he finally gets it out of the envelope. His vision blurs as he starts scanning through the letter, eyes flitting all over the page looking for a few choice words, and his breathing stops cold.

He raises his head in time with Akira, and their eyes are wide. A wind chime clinks somewhere behind them.

“I got in,” Akira whispers.

“I passed,” Ryuji whispers back.

They stare at each other for a moment, before they explode.

Immediately, Ryuji jumps out of his chair and lifts Akira clean off his seat. “You got in!” he cries, and he’s not even embarrassed at the horrendous crack in his voice. “You bastard, I knew you could do it!”

“You passed,” Akira throws his arms around his neck and clings, so tight he can barely breathe. “I knew it, I could feel it, I knew you had it!”

Ryuji grasps the back of his hair, still spinning. “I’m so happy for you, I’m so happy for you,” he chants, his entire body feeling weak with relief and unencumbered joy but he knows he’d never drop him. “You fucking did it.”

“And you fucking did it!” He starts planting kisses on his head, his cheek, his shoulder, wherever he can reach. “You worked so hard, and you—” another kiss, this time right on his eyelid. “You did it, and I am so, so, so proud of you.”

With whatever last strength Ryuji has, he spins double-time, yelling at the top of his lungs: “Tokyo University, baby!”

“Third-year!” Akira tries, voice barely above his normal volume. “Third-year!”

He sets him down, and the grin on his face is wider than it’s ever been. Ryuji feels like he can eat the entirety of Yongen in one try. “You are—” he holds Akira’s face between both of his hands, face inches from his. “The smartest person on the entire fucking planet.”

“And you—” his eyes are bright, so bright. “Need to call your mom.”

“Shoot!” Ryuji slaps his forehead. “Totally slipped by me. Uh, I’ll—”

“Bathroom works, and Soijro locked up the cafe for us.”

“Boss is the best. I’ll be back,” he turns, headed for the stairs.

“Wait.”

Ryuji looks back only for a hand to hold his nape, pulling him forward. Akira kisses him, still smiling. When they pull away, he says, in a crystal clear voice, “I love you, I love you, and I’m proud of you.”

He could barely reply past the lump in his throat, wanting nothing more than to bury himself in that sentence. “I love you,” he manages. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? I want to keep talking to you.”

“Of course,” Akira says, and Ryuji slips out of his grasp before he can do something stupid, like cry. Again.

Cracking the door open to the tiny powder room of Leblanc, he leans against the wall and catches his expression in the mirror—grinning and flushed with pleasure. It’s a good look.

He hits the speed dial on his phone, and his mom picks up almost immediately. “Did you get the letter?” she rushes out. “Whatever happens, you’re still the best son I could ever ask for, you hear me?”

“Ma,” the reflection’s grin grows impossibly wider. “I passed.”

The screaming from the receiver is loud enough that he had to pull it away from himself, wincing but laughing at her reaction. “I knew it!” her voice sounds years younger. “I knew you could do it!”

The wall is cool behind him, and he shoves his hand in his pocket, embarrassed. “Thanks, ma.”

“Of course, Ryu! Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” he blinks. “Well, yeah, of course.”

“That’s all I ever wanted,” a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle sounds through. “You could’ve stopped going to school entirely and as long as it made you happy, I’d go along with it.”

Air catches in his throat, awe-struck. He knew how she felt, but having her tell him at face value is something else entirely.

Ryuji’s about to answer when a cascade of voices and footsteps suddenly flow into the cafe, just outside the powder room.

“Akira,” Makoto says gently, audible through thin walls. “Did…?”

He doesn’t catch a reply, but screams and cheers fill up the cafe, dust falling from the ceiling as people start jumping up and down.

“I can hear your friends celebrating from here,” his mom chuckles. “I’ll let you go. Let’s get dinner when you get home, okay?”

“That sounds great,” he says, coughing, brushing the flecks of dried wood off his shoulder. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

He hangs up, sighing happily. After mentally preparing himself, he throws the door open, doorknob slamming against the wall that he prays didn’t leave a dent.

“Is that him?” Haru’s voice flows from above.

“That’s him,” Akira confirms.

Ryuji takes the steps two at a time, welcomed by the sight of everyone clinging to Akira with overjoyed expressions, and they quiet down when they see him.

Ann takes a step forward, gently letting go of Akira’s shoulder. “So?”

He takes a deep breath, makes a big show of kicking the floor boards, before looking up.

“Yeah, I did it.”

An eruption of pure noise goes straight into his eardrums as he’s tackled by arms and bodies, knocking him to the ground. Everyone’s yelling, some are crying, and he can understand exactly zero of what they’re saying but he hugs back as best he can. Through the cracks of shoulders and hair and necks, he can see Akira watching them all in amusement.

With no small amount of struggling, Ryuji wriggles a hand free and extends it to him. Akira doesn’t hesitate to take it, but yelps as he proceeds to get tugged right into the middle of the pile, crashing into three other people and loving every second of it.

Delusion is a real funny thing in hindsight. How could he have ever thought that he had nothing to be proud of? That his list of accomplishments added up to exactly nothing?

Yusuke is reciting victory speeches from wars won long ago while Makoto is listing off scholarships he can apply for in his third-year. Futaba is repeatedly hitting his shoulder, shrieking in his ear while Haru is quietly telling him how proud she is of him. Ann’s already pulling Shiho on speakerphone, and Akira has a look in his eye, a fondness that tells Ryuji that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

The room is full, and the sun is still streaming through, warm and inviting. He wishes that Ryuji from a year ago could see this, see his friends that are still by his side, that will always be by his side, and rest easy.

[hiccstrxd]

a winter wonderland in spring

Behold the ice skating au no one asked for! My first multi chapter and i'm already dreading not finishing it lol. Read it on ao3.

Summary: Rayla glided, her skates creating a grinding sound on the ice. She felt a hand coming to encircle her waist from behind, it's a feather-light touch; the jolt of electricity wasn't. There's something unspoken that hung in the air between them, a connection that hadn't been there before, a delicate balance.

Rayla is in search of a skating partner, she might have just found the one. Perhaps even more.

Ever since she can remember, a pair of skates under her feet felt like the whole universe was within her reach, and the unachievable turned achievable. It’s everything she has known, everything she has put her entire heart into. It brought her a sense of serenity and freedom, peacefulness and strength; it’s her primary source of self-confidence and gallantry. It’s part of who she is.

She first fell in love with it when her surrogate father took her for the very first time to their local ice rink as a child. The wonder in her eyes, the pure delight in her smile and the giddiness that overtook her as she saw countless skaters performing tricks and spins and footwork on the ice is something that she still remembers rather vividly. It’s what called to her, after all.

Later on, that sentiment was fueled by her father teaching her some basic moves. She didn’t think it was possible to fall even more in love, but it turned out wrong because she ended up getting impossibly eager to start classes right then – which subsequently became a reality and led her to become the professional skater that she is now, twelve years later.

She was very determined even as a kid.

So she doesn’t see how this is any different. But somehow it is because then she wouldn’t be so nervous about asking for this one request (maybe because she knows the answer and dreads it).

Rayla paced back and forth in front of her coach’s office, worrying her bottom lip in between her teeth, hands shaking in anticipation. She would occasionally glance at the door — a barrier between herself and her next goal on the ice — and glare daggers for it seemed to be outright mocking her lack of resolve.

She knows she can do it, but she’s not exactly thrilled for the resistance that’s bound to come.

She raised one hand, a fist mere inches away from making contact but she couldn’t bring herself to knock. The number of times she has come after practice thinking that today would be the day she would do it just for her to end up going through this exact ritual is more often than not. No, this time she’d do it for sure. Rayla took one last deep breath, closed her eyes, and murmured encouraging words under her breath because nothing could deter her now.

And she would not go out of that office with a no for an answer.

Before Rayla could back out once again — and all the courage she had mustered could fade away — she knocked thrice at the door and it was immediately followed by a muffled come-in from the other side.

She gripped the handle and pulled, and upon seeing her coach, she squared her shoulders to make herself seem more confident than she felt.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d knock.” Runaan didn’t even bother to avert his eyes from the forms he was filling. Her posture faltered a bit, blushing at the revelation that she wasn’t being as discreet as she thought she was being. For one week straight.

“Coach,” She gave him a court nod and waited for him to pull the paperwork away. Rayla shifted uneasily on both feet while trying hard to push down the nagging turnabout of thoughts — perhaps this could have been a whole lot easier if she had decided to do this at home, Ethari would have been a nice backup if things went sour.

When she was sure she had his full attention, she cleared her throat and set her jaw, “I’ve decided I’m ready to try pair skating.”

Rayla could practically foresee his exasperated sigh and the furrowing of his eyebrows before any of them could take place. “Rayla—“

“And I know what you are going to say, but I’ve mastered all the solo techniques, spins, and jumps already. I’m a proficient single skater and my skills are one of the sharpest out there.” She looked him in the eye, staring closely for a change in his stern expression but all he did was fold his arms across his chest, leaning backward on the chair. Seeing as he made no attempt to cut in with an argument of his own, she continued on with the spiel she has been practicing beforehand for the past few weeks.

“I’m aware of the strenuous work that goes into pair skating, I know about its complexity and hardship but I feel ready. I want to do it.”

Runaan only stared at her, unmoving, with his characteristic frown whenever she decides to defy his authority (which are more times than he’d like to, she’s sure). It should make her back out. It doesn’t.

She stood firm, undeterred, doing her best to make herself look bigger under his gaze.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and intertwining his fingers together, a pensive look on his face. “A talented skater such as you should not depend on someone else. Your skills must not be at someone’s expense.”

She had expected that answer, of course, it’s what she has been hearing every time she brings the topic up during practices, dinners, and car rides. And just like the other times, Rayla had to swallow down a retort that would surely land her two weeks off the ice, which would certainly make matters worse. “It would be a crime, for the expertise you’ve got it’s too highly thought of for someone else to come and taint it. Besides, pair skating is ten times more difficult than single skating — more effort is put into each move, each trick.”

“And I’m willing to take every risk.” She said, not missing a beat. He needs to realize that she has never been more certain about something in her life. She raised her chin up, eyes solemnly staring at his, though she’s sure her nerves are pretty much transparent at this point.

Runaan blinked, clenching his jaw, brows furrowing further. “Rayla, I just don’t think it’s such a good idea for your career. I believe this could either end extremely good or extremely bad.”

“I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I will do it.”

His patience was running thin. So was hers.

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring in the process. “Very well, then.”

Rayla had to physically restrain herself from widening her eyes in disbelief because despite coming in here with determination in her tone and confidence in her posture, part of her had expected this reunion to be futile like the previous ones. He had always been very firm when it came to sharing his thoughts on pair skating — which he had oh-so-fondly labeled every solo skater’s doomsday — and it was clear that he had some type of reservation towards it. She envisioned nothing else but rebuttals from his part.

“Let me make several calls, ask if a skater is looking to pair. In the meantime, you can put a notice on the bulletin board or an ad on the web.” He said at last and regardless of his suggestion, his lack of enthusiasm was more or less translucent. “Heard those new databases are great search engines for a skating partner.” Runaan mumbled under his breath.

Rayla knows for a fact that, in spite of his demur and the hesitancy he’s got for pair skating, he’d still give his best to coach her — and her partner — through.

“You are dismissed.”

She smiled, “Thank you, Runaan.”

He gave her a small smile in return.

She exited his office feeling lighter on the shoulders, relaxed on the limbs, and calmer within. It was something that had been troubling her for quite some time now, and its resolution was like a breath of fresh air, a weight off her mind. Truthfully, she had been prepared to give thoroughly thought reasons to his upcoming excuses. She’s glad she hadn’t need to put those into use.

Just as the door closed behind her, a feeling of excitement came over her in full force, though she tried to contain it in as to not make a scene in the middle of the hallway. She can’t say she did the same in the enclosed quarters of her room.

Now, all that rests to do is to get to work in those ads.

How hard could it be to find a partner?

[dreamypeaches]

don’t wake up pt. 1 | rafe cameron x reader

summary: you and rafe cross paths at a boneyard kegger and find a space to escape in each other

warnings: making out, cursing, alcohol use

word count: 2.2k

a/n: so i posted this last night, then realized my account is so new that it wouldn’t show up in the search or tags. but i just got a bunch of followers, so hopefully y’all enjoy this! also, all characters in my fics are 18+, unless i specifically say otherwise. also also, fuck canon rafe, we don’t know him.

series masterlist

 The Boneyard was packed with Pogues, Kooks, and Tourons. It was the middle of the summer, the height of the party season in the Outer Banks, and there was no party like a kegger at the Boneyard. You and the Pogues were at the center of it all, music pounding in your chest louder than your heartbeat as you danced with Kie and Sarah. The liquid in your red solo cup spilled as you spun around, accidentally bumping into JJ, who was approaching the dance floor with a drunk grin on his face.

“Having fun?” He questioned as he gripped your waist to keep you from falling.

“Always am!” You slurred, gripping his hand and pulling him onto the dance floor with you and the girls.

At the beginning of the night, your dancing would have been sexy, grinding with Kie and Sarah, shaking your hips as you moved seductively. Now, you were a point of drunkenness where your legs no longer coordinated with your mind. You jumped and yelled along with the music, a goofy grin on your face. You wrapped your arms around JJ’s shoulders as you both screamed the chorus of the song, rocking back and forth like the waves not far from the dance floor. As the song faded out, JJ led you off the dance floor. You downed the last of your drink and giggled as you and JJ tripped over nothing in the sand. JJ collapsed on a log next to Pope and John B., both boys much more sober than the rest of their friends.

“You too better not puke in my living room,” John B commented.

“How dare you, I’m not even that drunk. In fact, I could go for another right now,” JJ said, standing from the log, swaying, and immediately falling back down on his ass. He stood up again, successfully, and grinned at you.

“Y/N, care to join me?”

“Nah, I’m gonna go for a walk. I want to feel the waves on my feet!” You giggled as you turned away from your friends and marched towards the ocean. The music slowly faded the farther you got, stumbling to an empty area several yards away from the party. As you stepped towards the water, letting the tide roll over your feet, you noticed a figure a few feet away sitting on the beach. He was nothing but a silhouette in the night, but you approached him anyway, your drunken state leading you to want to be a little too friendly than you normally would be. You stumbled over to the stranger, but realized as you got closer that it wasn’t a stranger at all. Rafe Cameron sat on the sand with his need pulled to his chest, hands resting on his knees. His button up shirt was halfway open, blowing slightly in the breeze as he stared at the ocean.

Being a Pogue, your normally would have avoided Kooks like the plague, especially this Kook. But for some reason, possibly your drunkenness or some invisible string of fate connecting you to him, you continued walking toward him until you were standing right above him. You unceremoniously collapsed into the sand beside him, causing him to glance at you strangely.

“What are you doing here, Pogue?” He said, though he lacked the usual venom behind the words. You turned your head towards him slightly, giving him a small smile before turning back to the ocean.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? Especially at night, you can see the moon reflecting off the water. It looks like a portal to another world that just goes on forever. Sometimes I wish I could just jump in and disappear. End up in some other universe where everything is as beautiful as the ocean.”

Rafe stared at you as you spoke. Despite you being a Pogue, he’d always found you beautiful, though if his friends asked he would use a different word like hot or fuckable. But right now, as the moon shone down on your hair and the light from the kegger illuminated your outline, he couldn’t think of any other word but beautiful. As you spoke, your words floated from your mouth and into his chest, wrapping around his heart in a comforting embrace. He had gotten into an argument with his dad before the party and he felt like shit. He’d tired to bail, but Kelce and Topper dragged him from his home on Figure 8 and down to The Cut, promising liquor and drugs would cure his bad mood. They had no idea the real reason behind his anger and sadness.

As soon as he could, he escaped from the loud and chaotic kegger to this quiet spot on the beach, needing a moment on his own to just be. Then you come along and, had you ben anyone else, he would have yelled at you to go the fuck away. But no, it was you, the Pogue who always smiled at him when they made eye contact, the one who apologized for her friends when they started shit, but wasn’t afraid to chew him out when he was the shit-starter. He’d always tried to ignore his little crush on you, knowing it would never happen. But now you were here and speaking to him like no one else had.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He replied, not taking his eyes off you. You turned and made eye contact with him, raising an eye brow at him.

“So, what’s the Kook King doing sitting over here all alone?” You asked. Rafe gave you a sad smile, breaking eye contact to look at his hands, tapping his fingers on his knees.

“I could ask the same thing of the Pogue Princess,” He said. You laughed and Rafe’s heart skipped a beat. He’d never heard your laugh before but now it was the only thing he ever wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

“I’m not the Pogue Princess,” You chuckled, shaking your head, “I just wanted some air, and to feel the waves under my feet. Helps me stay grounded.”

Rafe nodded and looked back at the ocean. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for a short moment. You were the one to break it.

“So? I answered your question, now you need to answer mine. And I asked first so if you don’t answer that’s just plain rude.”

Rafe chuckled and glanced at you. He ran his hand through his hair, messing up the slicked back style. You watched as his hair fell in his eyes and licked your lips. Rafe was a dick, yes, but you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. All those times he and JJ were at each other’s throats, your eyes would wander to the tall boy, taking in every detail of him. You would never admit it the other Pogues, but he intrigued you. He was never as rude to you as he was to the other Pogues. Once he’d even smiled at you and said “thank you” when you’d handed him a cup of beer at a kegger. Kiara, who had been right next to you, was convinced he had been possessed.

You had never been a fan of the whole Kook versus Pogue rivalry, you thought it was cliche and dumb. But you continued to abide by the rules of the island, despite the constant urge to go up to Rafe and befriend him. After all, you had made friends with Sarah, why not the other Cameron sibling?

“Didn’t really want to come to this kegger in the first place. Since I’m here, might as well enjoy some shitty beer and a great view while trying to ignore all my problems.”

“I get that. I ignore my problems all the time. Whenever I get ice out of the freezer and a couple cubes fall to the ground, I always just kick them under the fridge.”

Rafe laughed, a genuine, joyful laugh that made your heart flutter.

“I’ve done the exact same thing many, many times,” He said.

“I’m assuming your problems are a little bigger than ice cubes.”

The smile slowly faded from his face and he nodded. “Yeah, just a little bit,”

You looked at him as a pained expression crossed his face. You already missed his laugh, and you were determined to hear it again.

“Well, can I help you ignore your problems? Even if it’s just for a little while?” You said.

Rafe looked up at you, eyes sad but a smile on his lips. “I would love that.”

You and Rafe talked about nothing as the party continued to rage on behind you. You told him all the shitty jokes you knew while he told you about embarrassing stories about his sister and his friends. You got into a short argument about what fast food place had the best fries, never coming to an agreement. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, hours maybe, but you didn’t want it to end. You had moved closer to Rafe and he to you until your thighs and shoulders were touching. The conversation had died down for a moment as you made eye contact with each other. His tongue flicked out and licked his lips, drawing your eyes to them.

“Do you know what else will help you ignore your problems?” You asked. Both of you slowly moved closer and closer towards each other, eyes flicking from eyes to lips and back again.

“What?” Rafe asked. You answered him by leaning forward and connecting your lips to his. Your hands gripped the sand for balance has he reach up to place a hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. His other hand rested on your hip, gripping it as if his life depended on it. You raised your hands to run your fingers through his hair, almost falling on top of him. The Hand on your hip swiftly wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You straddled him, fingers threading through his light hair. He tasted like beer and mint and heaven. His tongue ran along her bottom lip and you opened your mouth, allowing him to explore to his heart content. His hands moved underneath your shirt, running up and down your sides. One of his thumbs brushed up against the bottom of your breast, feeling you through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a moan into his mouth that motivated him to move further. His grip on you tightened, pulling you flush against him. Your lips were soft and sweet, every negative thought disappearing from his mind, being replaced by you, you, you. Rafe didn’t want to forget a single part of this moment. He memorized the curve of your hip, the softness of your lips. The way you smelled and the way you moaned and breathed and tasted. He was euphoric, questioning whether or not this was a dream.

His hand had just ventured underneath your bra, lips creating dark spots are your neck when someone yelled from the direction of the kegger.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open as you looked towards the edge of the kegger. In the distance, you could see the silhouette of the Pogues against the fire light. They were waving their arms and shouting your name. Rafe, however, paid no mind, sucking on the sensitive spot below your ear that made you moan.

“Rafe,” you moaned his name. You pulled his hair, forcing him away from your neck to look in your eyes. “I have to go.”

You kissed him again as you slowly removed yourself from his lap. His hand gripped your arm as you stood, your lips still attached. You giggled as your rested your forehead on his, pecking the tip of his nose. You finally disconnected from him, but your eyes never left his as you walked backwards toward the other Pogues.

“I’ll see you around, Cameron,” You said before turning on your heel, jogging towards your friends. Rafe stood their frozen, hair a mess and lips swollen as he stared at your retreating figure. A he couldn’t help but smile as he stood up, brushing the sand from his body. As he walked toward where Topper and Kelce were standing, he prayed for another moment where he got to taste your lips.

You reached the Pogues, a smile still on your face as you adjusted your messy hair.

“Ready to go?” John B asked. You nodded walked next to Kiara and Sarah towards the Twinkie. Both girls examined your giggly state and the hickies that littered your collarbone and neck.

“Who was that?” Sarah asked, smirking at you. Your words caught in your throat for a moment, unsure if you should tell the truth or not. You quickly glanced over the fire and met Rafe’s gaze. He winked at you and blush crawled up your cheeks. You quickly looked back at Sarah and smiled.

“Just some Touron,” You answered. Sarah and Kie laughed at your blushing face, asking you more questions about the Touron you had just made out with on the beach. You told them you knew nothing about them, dodging their questions and suggestive looks. Tonight had been a dream, you weren’t ready to wake up yet. As you approached the parked van, you took one last glance at Rafe and smiled. You hoped you would never wake up.

[fitzefitcher]

faction conflict soapbox, pt. 2

school 2: I’m tired of faction conflict, in general

@alldepressednshit​ said: To be honest, it feels overdone. Also, it keeps getting sidelined by *insert world-threatining asspull* BfA could’ve been great if it was an actual civil war. Like a baron zemo type setting out to destroy the horde and alliance from within.

@ashyteg​ said: I wish we could all hang out and play hearthstone

@baenling said: annoying as fuck. should have been over in mists of pandaria. literally zero reason for the faction war to continue

@swampgallows​ said: i just like being a zombie lady with a conscience and an ability to be hugged by huge monster people who are my family and would never hurt me

Anonymous asked: I wish people would stop bickering over which faction is worse, admit both factions are problematic and stop trying to morally high road the other for faction pride.

Anonymous asked: Hi yes I have come to talk about Horde vs Alliance. Honestly I use to be a big fan of it back in the day. Two big factions, warring over resources that would occasionally have to realize there are bigger threats. Thought it was fun, had faction pride in grinding up PVP reps to be like: Yes FOR THE HORDE. I just think things took a big downturn in Mists. Before it felt kind of balanced, sure Garrosh was "bad" but at the time i thought: well Varian started the war back in Wrath. 1/?

Having the war break out across the continents when before it was sort of like a cold war with a few active fighting spots was cool! I didn't think the Horde was being portrayed as 100% evil! But after that... I don't think the Alliance has really been shown ever in the wrong or negative. And that's just fucking boring. Not to mention literally punishes half the player base for preferring one faction. The Horde has so much creative potential but they never use it. So really sours it. 2/2

so I think the core issue with this is probably less that the faction conflict itself is happening, and more that it's happening but without any sense or meaning, and that it's happening in such a way that feels extremely unbalanced on either side. faction conflict, when it's done well, can be an extremely rewarding and memorable experience.

 like, anybody that's played vanilla will tell you how fun an experience the scarab wall event was, and I myself remember how fun the thunder isle event was. and I think what worked for those events was that they were less like. Dark, Gritty War Conflict, and more played like a high school field day. Like there's certainly competition, and faction pride, but it's actually fun because it's more focused on Achievement than it is on Active Conflict. Like, people meme on the Argent Crusade Sponsored Renaissance Faire, but tbh that's some the most fun I've had with wow, and it ended being a really memorable experience for me and many of the people I was playing with at the time, in part because it was so light-hearted and silly and campy. in my opinion, wow is at its best when it leans into the stupid, silly camp, and that's why hearthstone has a better handle on warcraft and its characters than wow does lmao.

But I will acknowledge that this doesn't always work beyond just gameplay mechanics and overall experience- I love the argent tournament, but as a story, it's dumb as fuck, and at the time, felt extremely out of place for the wrath storyline. Like, we did naxx, then ulduar, and we were revving up to do ICC, which was (and still is, for the most part) regarded as one of its most serious story arcs, and it held a lot of gravity to it in terms of buildup, and the sort of consquences it would have afterwards. Whether or not those consequences were actually addressed afterwards are another issue entirely, but the point here is, ICC is an extremely memorable raid, and was very rewarding as an experience and story end (for the most part, let's stay on topic though), and it absolutely would not have worked if they had leaned into the campy silliness that worked for other things in wow. Here, the grim seriousness does work, because there was plenty of setup and payoff for it. like, even well before we get to ICC, or even wrath, there's buildup for the scourge starting in vanilla, and even in w3.

I think the wrath expansion in general was very very memorable, bc it was an expac where the stakes were pretty well-balanced in terms of alliance and horde content. like, the alliance's bone to pick with scourge is fairly obvious, and while the horde's was less so, the forsaken's was even more obvious, and there was planting and payoff of how the horde needed to go, both because the forsaken are their ally and this is their time of need, and that the scourge are a threat to everyone. truthfully, the alliance side of things I don't remember quite as well, but it was more staged as like, the alliance sort of acknowledging that Arthas (and that many aspects of the Scourge including KT and the cult of the damned) are very much problems that stemmed from the Alliance, and that they had a sort of responsibility to take care of it and make things right, even if they weren't necessarily Directly responsible for Arthas himself. So, there's equal setup in place for both factions, and equal stakes, even if they're not the same, and what faction conflict that does happen within the storyline has a setup and payoff. like, let's look at the wrathgate: a rogue faction of forsaken unleash hell on everyone at the battle of the wrathgate, whether they be scourge, alliance, or horde, and there are immediate consequences afterwards for each faction that feel engaging and meaningful. horde-side, you have to drive out the traitors that turned against your ally and retake one of your core cities, and alliance-side, you're taking immediate action against a faction that just completely fucked you over at a really key battle against a mutual enemy, a particular part of that faction that was already on thin fucking ice to begin with in terms of like. doing morally questionable, reprehensible things. and the ending, while daunting and honestly a little emotionally frustrating, neither punishes nor rewards either faction, and amps up the conflict in a way that feels realistic given the circumstances. And I think that this was really memorable as a questline, and as an expansion, because again, there was setup and payoff, but also, the prior two expansions weren't super focused on the faction conflict as much as wrath had started drumming up.

yes, there was conflict, obviously, but it wasn't so all-consuming as to make it tiresome or overwhelming or frustrating, and didn't feel particularly unbalanced or unfair. I think it should also be noted that faction conflict had never taken the spotlight so strongly in this way before, so it was this novel thing still being explored, and again, working off of things that had previous setup, felt like reasonable or realistic consequences, and above all, were balanced in what sort of story beats were being explored for either faction. wrath for the most part felt like a very natural, very organic step forward in the wow storyline overall, and while I don't agree with every decision made with it, particularly towards the end, I cannot deny that it was definitely one of if not my favorite expansion, and was extremely formative for how I engage with wow, and with stories as a whole.

all that being said, I think it's a fairly reasonable conclusion to draw that faction conflict in recent years has been souring the game for a lot of people, and I can't really blame them, as I, too, have a bone to pick with it. bofa in particular was pretty rough for a number of reasons, but I think the number one reason is how unbalanced it felt in terms of storyline for either faction. bofa imo sortof works as a synopsis for why Horde Bias(TM) is such a huge point of contention between horde and alliance, in that the horde faction spent most of the expansion losing characters, whether that be to character death or death of character development, watched their faction tear themselves apart for what feels like dozens of times now, and basically felt as though that the Evil label was being forced on them, and that they had no choice in the matter for any of this. The alliance faction, meanwhile, didn't really get much of anything. Kul Tiras isn't really as rewarding a leveling experience as Zandalar is in terms of the individual zone stories being strung together, the allied race factions they got didn't feel as fun or varied as the ones the horde got, and seemingly had no actions, issues, or consequences with any sort of serious examination. It's hard to have fun or get any sort of emotional satisfaction from a story that doesn't really let you do anything, and doesn't really show that your actions have any consequences at all, whether they be good or bad, and seemingly is spending all of their time and attention on the other faction. Like, the horde is suffering, and that suffering is definitely, wholly unfair, but the alliance seemingly isn't getting any sort of attention, at all. But because they're not constantly getting a bat to the head story-wise, horde players (including myself) just get really frustrated when accused of favoritism, because like. There is literally no benefit whatsoever to having blizzard's attention, when all blizzard does is take away everything you love lmao. This, I would say, is a matter of violence vs. negligence. Both are forms of harm, but they are radically different in terms of how they hurt you, and neither is inherently more hurtful than the other.

I think if I were to propose a solution to this, I think that the first step should be to pull back on faction conflict as a major component to the story, which they have at least partially. But I think the next step is to give a fairer distribution of attention to characters. Like, I complain about the Horde losing characters, and I'm not taking that back because it's True, but it would be remiss of me not to touch on the fact that, for how many dozens of characters the alliance has, the only ones who really get the attention are like. Human Males. In particular, Anduin. And if they're not Anduin, they're usually characters within Anduin's immediate peer circle. And then the characters that aren't human men and do get attention are usually ones that are getting shafted, somehow, or are getting painted as Wrong and Violent and Stupid for Disagreeing With Anduin- i.e., tyrande. And before Anduin, the only character that really got any sort of serious attention was Varian, which is probably why alliance players as a whole took his death so hard. It's hard not to feel some kind of way about losing a favorite toy when that toy is damn near the only one you functionally have lmao.

I know shadowlands as an expac has been pretty polarizing to people in terms of experience, but tbh I think this is a good step forward in resetting the stakes, and making things in either faction feel a little more balanced. I do think that the consequences of the conflict in bofa has to be addressed Eventually, and I'm honestly a little afraid of what they're going to do next, but this is alright for now.

[santastic]

the big, bad wolf || hwang hyunjin oneshot

》》 pairing: hyunjin x female reader

》》 summary: every year, you and the boys celebrate halloween with a party at hyunjin's - who just so happens to be your mortal frenemy. every year, you all dress up. this year, however, you decide to make it a bit more interesting: everyone picks an outfit for their random secret santa partner. it seems like a bit of innocent fun, but felix has an idea...

》》 word count: 2.4k

》》 genre/tags: halloween au, not quite e2l but e2 like...sexy tension???, suggestive themes (mostly just implications), a little bit of crack lmao

》》 warnings: cliche cheesy dirty flirting (come on hyunjin you're better than this), thicc romantic and sexual tension, reader is a simp in denial, suggestive themes, implied smut at the end, talk of biting but no actual biting, reader has dom vibes, hyunjin is bold until someone else is bolder

》》 notes: my first oneshot on this blog! I already wrote a halloween drabble, but I felt like writing something bigger than that and my friend (I see u vi) inspired me by suggesting some spicy hyunjin content. n e ways, happy halloween everyone! and if u don’t celebrate halloween, I hope u have a lovely weekend <3

navigation || skz masterlist

Halloween is always fun with your friend group. I mean, it's fun anyway - lots of cheap candy, neighbourhood celebrations, an excuse to get way too drunk - it's just a lot more fun with eight other crackheads.

You guys have a sort of tradition going by now, even though each year is a bit different. Hyunjin throws the party, Minho brings the alcohol and hides it from Chan until it's too late to stop everyone from getting shitfaced, Jeongin and Felix bring ungodly amounts of candy, and Jisung is a skeleton (literally every single year - it started when you called Tate Langdon's skeleton makeup hot, and it never ended).

Everyone (except Jisung) keeps their costume a secret - unless they're Chan and Felix, in which case they do couple costumes and keep it a secret from everyone else. Sometimes you even decide on a theme, like the year before the last, where everyone was supposed to dress as their favourite Pokemon. This inevitably led to intense fighting roleplays to assert dominance as your respective type, and in order to spare your reputation in the neighbourhood, you decided the next theme would be a little less wild.

This year, the theme was 'secret Santa costumes', meaning you each picked a random name from a hat to decide who you would be buying a costume for and a few days before Halloween, you were given your own costume to wear to the party by whoever pulled your name from the hat of destiny.

Technically that's not how secret Santa works, but no one questions Chan when it comes to holiday business.

You just so happened to get Jisung, and while the temptation to keep the skeleton thing going just for the meme was definitely there, you ultimately decided he should be a classic bedsheet ghost - except with no eye or hand holes cut out. You know, to add a little sprinkle of chaos to his already very chaotic life.

The lovely boy who decided your spooky fate was Felix, who had coincidentally been in charge of buying Hyunjin’s costume too - when you asked why, he said it was because the number of people was uneven, so he had kindly volunteered to take on an extra. You had honestly expected him to pick something weird or wild for you, so you were quite surprised by the outfit he had settled on.

"Is this...little red riding hood?" you had asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you stared at the dress and hood in your hands.

"Yep! I saw it the other day and I thought it would be nice to go for one of the classics, you know?" he had explained, smiling as if he was ever so proud about his decision. Something about the hint of mischief in his eyes made you suspicious, but you had let it slide. "You don't mind, right?"

No, you didn't mind. You had given Jisung a ghost costume, so you didn’t really have room to speak on the originality of Felix’s decision. Besides, the dress didn’t look too cheap, nor did it look especially short, and the hood-cape made you feel way too powerful for someone wearing a $20 Target costume.

So you really didn't mind at all, until it came to the day of the party. Now, as you stand in the doorway to Hyunjin’s apartment, you suddenly mind a lot more.

”Lee Felix, I’m going to decorate the lawn with your fucking intestines, oh my god!” you whisper-yell to the boy who conveniently manages to dart away with the excuse of needing to help Jeongin open all the candy bags. Your angry eyes follow his retreating blue form - Chan picked his outfit this year, and of course he decided Felix should be an Among Us character.

Everyone in the group knows about the slight tension (read: obvious beef) between you and Hyunjin. Technically speaking, you’re friends. He invites you to his parties, you hang out with him when he’s with the boys. It’s just that neither of you can stand each other, because you’re both very bold and even more stubborn.

Whenever the two of you are together, you bicker like children and it’s pretty much endless. You could probably throw insults (and the occasional murder threat) at each other all day if the other members didn’t interrupt, and on those days you’d be more than happy to teach Hyunjin a lesson with a nice, strong punch in the nose if the opportunity were ever to present itself.

So, with this in mind, it’s quite clear why you’re planning Felix’s murder when you see Hyunjin walking around as the big, bad wolf.

You’re genuinely considering sneaking out the front door before anyone else sees you and running back to your apartment (because Felix just so happens to be your ride home), but fate decides to mess with you and suddenly, Hyunjin locks eyes with you from across the living room.

The way a huge smile instantly graces his pretty face sends a rush of butterflies, followed by anger, through you as you stare back at him. His clip on wolf ears are admittedly quite cute, but the fake fangs he’s wearing send your thoughts in a very different direction. As he makes his way over, you suddenly wish you had followed Felix to the kitchen - at least they keep the alcohol in there. In his living room, you’ve got no choice but to deal with Hyunjin while sober.

”Well, would you look at that? Seems like I found my little red riding hood.” he teases with a wink, leaning against the wall beside the door.

When you scoff at him, he gives you another big grin and you can’t help but stare at the fangs again. The vibrant blue contact lenses he’s wearing make his gaze feel intense even when he’s smiling, and the way his long, blonde hair falls freely gives him a glow that’s both angelic and positively demonic. He looks so annoyingly handsome, as per usual; if only his personality wasn’t the personification of the words ‘cocky asshole’. You can’t help but think it’s a huge waste of beauty.

“Excuse me-” you begin, ready to start the first round of arguing, but he cuts you off like the annoying brat he is.

“You’re excused,” he says, thinking his comment was very smart, and if it wasn’t a night meant for fun and games, you might’ve killed him on the spot.

“Fine, excuse you. I’m not your little red riding hood. In fact, I’m not your anything, thank you very much,” you snap, brushing past his tall figure as you head to the table the boys have set up to the side. There’s an array of Halloween-themed food, prepared by Chan, and you settle for a red velvet cupcake decorated with black frosting and what you assume are meant to be cat ears poking out of it.

“Right, sure, but we’re still matching tonight. It’s kind of like-”

This time, you cut him off. “It’s not like Chan and Felix. It’s not. We’re not wearing couple costumes, so don’t say it.”

He shuts his mouth (finally) and you take it as your cue to leave before he says something else to piss you off. Unfortunately, he seems to have the desire to ruin your night further and chooses to follow you on your journey.

“So anyway, I guess this was Felix’s plan, right?” He gestures to your costumes. “Unless you had something to do with it, that is.”

You don’t bother to address the second part of what he said and instead just nod, scanning the room for the previously mentioned mastermind. As soon as you can get your hands on that boy, you swear you’ll slaughter him for subjecting you to Hyunjin’s torturous teasing all night.

“He was already on thin ice after trying to tell me Bulbasaur is a better starter than Charmander, but now he’s actually dead to me,” you growl out once you spot him sitting beside Minho, laughing happily with his classic red solo cup and a slice of chocolate cake. Jeongin sits beside them, tearing open bags of candy with no assistance from Felix, because of course he was lying about helping him earlier.

Hyunjin laughs softly and you curse your heart for skipping a beat at the sound. Sometimes it feels like your head hates Hyunjin while your body is stupid enough to like him, and it’s part of the reason why you hate talking to him so much. Every time you stop throwing insults and sass at him and instead sit back and listen to what he has to say, a part of you realises you don’t exactly have a proper reason for disliking him. He’s not all that bad, and sometimes you even find yourself laughing at his jokes and witty remarks.

But you’d really rather not go through the endless cycle of those thoughts right now, especially when the cause of your problems is standing beside you eating a chocolate bar.

“I have to say, though,” you comment as you turn to look him up and down, “the big, bad wolf concept suits you pretty well.”

Before he can accept the compliment, you continue. “You’re both big, hairy beasts who dress like grandmas.”

The obvious offence on his face is so satisfying you almost wanna snap a photo to reflect on this moment in the future, but you refrain from doing so. He would just pose anyway, and the photo would probably end up making your stupid heart flutter again.

“Well, at least you think I’m big. Besides, if dressing like a grandma gets me closer to eating you, then I suppose it’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make,” he whispers in a husky, seductive voice that kind of makes you want to choke-slam him, but you suspect he might enjoy that anyway.

It angers you when he makes flirty comments like that, because as annoying as they are and despite you knowing full well he only says it to get under your skin, it still makes your heart race every time. Maybe in another universe, Hyunjin is a sweet boy who innocently flirts with you and brings you roses instead of a big, bad bitch who’s just acting like a horny teenager. Annoyingly enough though, you think you’d fall for him either way.

You turn away with the intention of finally escaping to the kitchen to grab something to drink, hoping to settle the thoughts dancing around your head, but he reaches for your wrist. The feeling of his fingers pressing warmth into your skin just makes your head spin even more, and you’re so distracted you don’t pull away from him.

"Aw, don’t run away now. Are you scared of me, little red? There’s no need to be, I’m just joking. I won’t bite unless you beg me to."

You pull your arm back as soon as the words leave his mouth. Hyunjin has a lot of things (a severely irritating personality, a stupidly handsome face for such an asshole, a loud voice solely meant for pissing you off on a daily basis, the list goes on), but the thing he definitely has most is the fucking audacity.

However, the most annoying part by far is the way you feel your face heat up when you register the last thing he said. You’d rather die than let him make you flustered, so you shake your head slightly to clear those thoughts from your mind and look him in the eye again.

"Scared? Me?" you scoff, staring him down with a steady glare and if he was anyone else, he'd probably shiver in fear.

Unfortunately, he is not anyone else. He is Hwang Hyunjin, and Hwang Hyunjin does not shiver; he beams with a smug grin and makes your blood boil.

"Mhm. Look at you. You’re basically dressed as my prey tonight, babe." He purrs the pet name like the absolute fuckboy he is. "And sure, the real you is feisty, but you're all bark and no bite."

The overly confident, proud smirk on his face makes him look like a damn peacock flaunting its feathers, and you decide then and there that you'll do anything to get rid of it.

"All bark," you echo his words, walking towards him slowly, "and no bite, huh?"

You swear you see his eyes widen for a split second at your change in demeanor before the stupid smirk returns, and the little rush of victory you feel from catching him off guard is enough to keep you walking forward.

His gaze never leaves yours, especially when you're standing on the tips of your toes in front of him, noses just barely brushing against each other. Your hands grip his shoulder to balance you, and you run a finger over his collarbone up towards his cheek, where you gently cup his face. The small distance between the two of you means you can hear his slightly uneven breathing and see the curiosity swirling in his bright blue eyes as he waits for your next move.

You reach a hand up and thread your fingers through his long, bleach blonde hair, and his breath hitches when you gently tug at it. Even his wolf ears almost seem to droop submissively. He doesn't dare move, but his eyes keep flicking down to your lips and back up again.

"Now, that's just not true at all, is it?" you whisper, tilting your head as if waiting for an answer, but he can't find the words to form a witty response. It’s about time he learned some manners, really, even if he needed your guidance for that.

"I'm warning you now," you continue, "you might wanna watch your tone. I might look like your prey, but I promise I bite harder than you do, babe."

You make sure to emphasise the pet name, purring it in the same way he did minutes before. He bites down on his bottom lip, and the way his fangs press into them makes you lick your own lips nervously. It seems as though he can't take the tension anymore, because he goes to lean in and finally close the distance between the two of you as his hands find your hips.

Of course, you'd never let him have that control, especially after his bold attitude from earlier. Even though the temptation to lean in is certainly there, you step away from him and smile sweetly.

"Learned your lesson yet, puppy?"

He doesn’t respond for a moment, clearly still taking in what just happened. When he registers your question, he tilts his head to the side as if in thought - the way a dog might, funnily enough - before he hums quietly.

“I’m not sure. Maybe you should teach me once more, little red,” he suggests, voice low and slightly breathless, “but preferably a bit more in depth this time.”

- ᴇ ɴ ᴅ -

(A/N: AHHHHH I haven’t written a oneshot in SUCH a long time oh my god,,,,, it was a lot of fun tho even if I’m not super confident writing full things. this one was short anyway so I kinda feel like it doesn’t count, but I’m still v happy to finally post my first skz oneshot! I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading <3)

© santastic  —  all rights reserved. reposting, translating, copying and/or stealing is prohibited. ask permission if you wish to create anything inspired by my original ideas.

[neptunetheplanet7]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, slight angst in the beginning but not really, fluff

i owe you guys an apology. i’m not very active on tumblr as of posting. i’m sorry about that. school has been hard on me and i’ve been very stressed. i’ll try to do better in the future :)

listen to the music masterlist

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Armin was discharged from the hospital only a day after the accident. The doctor said there was nothing extraordinary to worry about. But of course, even with this information, Eren still made a fuss. That much was clear when he walked through the door with Armin's arm slung over his shoulder.

"I didn't break my leg, Eren. I don't need to use you as a crutch," Armin grumbled as the two walked into the kitchen from the garage. He reached back to shut the door with his free hand.

Eren rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for supporting you in these trying times."

"I don't need your support," they scoffed. He unwrapped his arm and made his way across the room.

Eren gave him the finger, rather aggressively. The gesture wasn't reciprocated since the blond already disappeared into the hallway.

Sucking on a freeze pop, you leaned back against the cool countertop. "Welcome home, lovely. Have fun?"

Eren sighed loudly as he walked toward the freezer and got a popsicle for himself. He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the top of the wrapper off into the trash.

He said sarcastically, "Oh, absolutely I did." He paused and shook his head disapprovingly. "He's a lot bitchier when it's us two. How's it been here?"

You shrugged. "So, so. Pretty quiet."

He nodded and pushed up the pineapple-flavored ice. "Thought so. Jean's gone today, obviously. Is Mikasa here?"

You huffed softly at the mention of her. "I haven't seen her since breakfast. She's been upstairs all day."

He frowned. "Oh, I see. Armin told me about the kiss, by the way. At first, I was gonna make fun of you for passing out but now that just seems cruel."

"You think?" You laughed lightly and rested both arms on the counter.

The sound that followed from him was more of an exhale than a laugh. "Listen, Y/n, even if she's avoiding you right now, I know she'll come around. Just wait and see."

"You're right," you mumbled, sticking the freeze pop in your mouth again. Armin basically said the same thing. Eren sent you a quick smile and patted your shoulder before leaving through the hallway.

You swallowed the remaining ice and threw away the wrapper. Noticing the bin was full, you took the trash to the bigger bin outside. Maybe doing some chores would distract you from Mikasa for a while.

Plus, today was the only day that allowed you to do so. Practices for the band's upcoming performance were every day until the date of it. You'd be rehearsing 24/7 since it was scheduled on such short notice.

It was going to be at a middle school some of your friends went to. The DJ they booked before flaked and your manager was kind enough to offer your talents.

Jean was meeting with Hannes and the school administrators to work out some extra kinks before the practices began.

The only day there wasn't a rehearsal was on Eren's birthday. You all decided it'd be best to take the day off to celebrate and set up for the party that would be happening later in the night.

The day passed easily as you got caught up on chores that weren't done over the past few days. The house was messier than you liked it although it hadn't been long at all since the previous clean-through. However, it had been a hectic week.

Speaking of hectic, when Zeke was there, he sure made himself at home. That much was clear when you made it to the living room portion of the basement.

Eren probably couldn't find time to clean up yet. Either that or he was just lazy because at that moment he was more focused on a pinball machine than the state of his living space.

His brother's suitcases were lying open by the couch. To be honest, you didn't love the idea of a criminal's possessions lying around your home. So, you decided that throwing them in a storage closet was the best option. 

When you finished tidying up, you started a game on the pinball machine next to Eren's.

His birthday was in three days. The house looked a lot better than it did when you started, which was perfect for throwing a party. You could only hope it would stay that way.

After a few hours of playing games with him, Jean came down the stairs to let you know he was back from the school. He left when he saw neither of you were interested in what he had to say.

Once it got dark outside, you left Eren to his own devices and went to your own room to chill out some more.

Unfortunately, when you flopped down on your bed, Mikasa started to consume your thoughts again. In an effort to fight them, you turned on a show to distract yourself.

For the slow hours you spent staring at the screen, you couldn't focus, not once. No matter how hard you trained your eyes on the screen, you still thought about her.

Sighing, you got out of bed and walked to your bedroom door. You were careful of the creaking hinges, it was around midnight. Everyone would either be asleep or close to sleeping.

Except for Armin. You had no idea what he did at night but you knew better than to ask. However, he was probably pretty tired from the time spent at the hospital. So, there was a solid chance he actually was asleep.

You crept outside, checking that the front door didn't make too much noise. Your car was parked in the driveway since there was never room in the garage. The gravel underneath your feet made noise as you walked toward it. You pushed yourself onto the hood and leaned back against the windshield.

Drawing in a long breath, you stared up at the sky. You needed to calm down and clear your mind. This would help, as it usually did.

Even if it was a little chilly, it was warm for a night in March, especially this late.

The stress that bubbled inside you simmered down the longer you watched the thin clouds dim the stars.

Any negative thoughts you had about the situation with Mikasa or the previous days seemed to disappear the longer your focus was on the sky.

Gravel crunched and you snapped your gaze toward the noise. Sitting up, you were surprised by what you saw.

Mikasa froze when she realized she'd been caught. She held a white blanket in her arms and still had one foot on the porch steps.

"Hi," she greeted quietly.

"Hey." Your breaths were a tad ragged from the initial scare.

She came closer to the car. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing." You took the blanket from her arms and she pushed herself up to sit beside you.

"The door to your room was open when I came downstairs for a drink. I thought you'd be out here."

"Oh." She knew you better than you thought.

She spread the blanket over both of your laps and leaned down on the hood of the car.

She looked at the sky but your eyes were still on her. "Why did you come out here?"

After a moment of silence, her gaze finally shifted to you. "I wanted to apologize. Ignoring you was immature. Plus, I remember how you used to come out here when you were upset. Above all else, I wanted to make sure you were alright." A blush coated her cheeks when she finished talking.

You took note of that and couldn't help but blush yourself. "I'm okay. I understand why you'd ignore me, though. If you didn't want it, that was probably your only option since we have to see each other so much."

Her brows furrowed and she sat up again. "What? Y/n, did you think I didn't want to kiss you?"

You blinked stupidly. "Well, yeah."

She laughed. "You can be so ridiculous sometimes. I've always wanted to kiss you like that. I'm just not great at expressing it."

Even more heat rushed to your face. You gawked at her and she looked down at her feet. Many things were running wild in your head. For some reason, though, there was one thing that was so prominent in your mind once you remembered it.

Out of all the questions you could have asked, this one came out rather bluntly. "What did you mean in your letter? What should I know?"

Her eyes widened, she didn't expect you to ask about that yet, and quite frankly, neither did you. Nonetheless, she answered anyway. "If only you knew. That's what I wrote. That's easy to answer now. If only you knew how long I've loved you."

She turned her face and made direct eye contact with you. She seemed to know the next question on your mind. "You never knew it but I've been in love with you since high school."

That can't be right. This is a dream. You're dreaming, Y/n. What the actual fuck?

"Are you sure? Then why did you ask Jean out when we were seniors? Why did you break it off with me mere weeks before?" Your mind was racing and it translated into sentences quickly spilling from your lips.

She still looked straight at you. Her facade of confidence was making you nervous. "I'm sure. Back then, I was so afraid of what I felt for you. Pretending the feelings weren't real and projecting them onto Jean seemed like my easiest option. For years I convinced myself I loved him. But it was never him. It was always you. I felt so awful when I realized what I was doing."

And just like that, the facade fell. Her words were no longer held confidence. She was afraid of how you'd react. She had little idea that you were ready to be just as vulnerable as her.

"When did you realize?"

Looking up at the dark sky, she pushed a stray tuft of hair away from her face. She continued, sighing softly before she spoke, "When I saw him that night with Marco, I was relieved that I didn't have to be with him anymore. When I tried to figure out why that was, I could only think about you. Every feeling that scared me before came back. I got so scared that I left. But, even then, they never went away."

You were having some trouble believing that this was actually happening. Mikasa loved you back this entire time. If she hadn't kissed you before, you would've thought this was only possible in your dreams.

However, things were actually starting to make sense. That whole time it was your fault. Every night of those two years you spent wondering about what you could have done to make her stay. It turns out you did enough. You were the reason she left. 

But maybe you were the reason she came back as well. You could recall something Jean had told you a day before she came home.

"Why did you come back? You needed to do something?"

She looked back at you again. "I've just done it," she said.

Before you could process her words, she was leaning closer to you. Her lips were so close to brushing yours but she paused before they could fully touch. "Can I?" she whispered.

"You don't even have to ask."

When she kissed you, you felt everything. Her feelings, your feelings. The world was minuscule compared to you two. Anything else meant nothing at that moment.

It was the first time in a long time that you felt fully complete. You were a puzzle and she was the missing piece. It was like before, only this time, you knew for sure what you wanted.

Pulling away, you managed an, "I love you too, Mikasa." 

There were no other words that would feel so good to finally say out loud.

Everything was clear. You understood. 

Now more than ever, you wanted to be with her.

posted: 9/26/21

neptunetheplanet7© 2021

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Thin Ice Pt6 || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Y/N gets some advice from a friendly face and decides she needs to make things right. 

Word Count: 3.8k

Author’s Note: I’ll be real, the reason this took so long was because of everything going on in the news about the virus. Hearing about so many people dying from the virus and other Asian Americans being attacked because of their race isn’t the best inspiration for writing about a romantic skiing trip. Nonetheless, I pulled myself together and finished this. Thank you for being patient and I want all of you guys to please stay safe and stay inside during these difficult times. 

Warning: None except a steamy kiss

Part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || to be continued 

You wanted nothing more than to just pack up all of your things and fly back to Queens to escape all this drama. It was exhausting fighting and yelling at someone you cared about but you couldn’t help yourself. You had never been that upset before and you hated the feeling.

As much as you wanted to go back home, deep down you knew that you wanted to stay. You had been saving up for this trip since you even joined the team and just because you went back to New York didn’t mean your troubles wouldn’t follow you days later when Brad and Peter came back. 

You just needed to clear your head and at the time, the best place to do it was to go to Edgewater Cafe. The same hot cocoa spot you had taken Peter when you both proposed a friendship. 

Even though it was just a few days ago, you felt like so much had happened in that short time span. 

After you picked up your drink, you gazed over at the same couch Peter and you had sat just days prior. 

You knew you could’ve sat anywhere else since there was so much attached to it but then you thought at the end of the day, it’s just a couch. If you wanted to try and move on from feeling mad, you needed to get over yourself. 

You sat down on the side you were on previously and shifted awkwardly in your seat. 

Now that time had passed, you thought heavily on what had just happened, even though you promised you would think about anything else. 

You knew Peter was only trying to help but that didn’t stop you from being angry at him. While Brad definitely deserved that punch, it still felt wrong coming from somebody else. 

It was the same effect of it being okay when you and your brother called each other names but if anyone else did it, you would throw hands. You didn’t condone violence and you regret fighting Brad but at the same time, he did a shitty thing. 

Just because you two were friends for as long as you could remember doesn’t mean you can just easily forgive him and forget the kiss never happened. 

“ Penny for your thoughts?” 

You looked up and out of all the people you thought would come up to you, you never expected it to be him. 

“ Mr. Harrington? I didn’t think I would see you here.” You said as he sat down across from you in a leather chair that was double his size. 

You were close with most of your teachers but Mr. Harrington was always an oddball. Besides sharing the same fear of getting killed by your doppelgangers and a love for science, you two had nothing else in common. 

“ I needed some peace and quiet. Believe it or not I just ran into my ex-wife…..you know, the one-”

“ That pretended to blip, yeah,” You said awkwardly as Mr. Harrington looked out the window, completely zoned out,” are you uh, okay?”

He nodded but he didn’t even look at you,” Love isn’t what it’s cracked out to be kiddo. One day, you’re walking down the aisle to a cover of Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream and the next, your wife leaves you for her hiking instructor.” 

You looked at him and until this moment,  you had never truly felt pity for a person. As awkward as the conversation was, you felt obligated to stay. 

“ I want to suffer so that I may love,” You quoted as he finally turned to you,” Dostoevsky. It takes time to learn how to love and how to get over it….plus she sounded like a real bitc- jerk.” 

“ Dostoevsky doesn’t live during a time where Tindr exists,” Mr. Harrington said plainly as you shifted awkwardly in your seat,” enjoy being young and in love. Make mistakes now so that way you don’t make those same mistakes when you’re older.” 

You thought back to Peter and sure, you weren’t madly in love with him but he made you happy. You knew relationships were hard, you weren’t that naive. At the same time, you thought that maybe you and Peter were the exception. 

You couldn’t be with someone who didn’t trust you or your feelings and Peter was one of those people. If it was already rocky now, why would you assume it would get better? 

Because you really like him. 

You cleared your throat before tapping your fingers against your cup,” Even if a certain mistake ruins everything?” 

Mr. Harrington almost snapped out of his daze and turned to you, laughing,” Okay, is someone going to die?” 

You hesitated as you thought about Peter knocking out Brad cold but shook your head,” I might lose one of my best friends that I really care about because of something I really want but the thing that I want could either ruin everything or be the right choice.” 

“ If they were really your friend, they would want you to be happy,” Mr. Harrington said as if it was obvious,” and if you were really their friend, you both wouldn’t let a stupid fight get in the way.” 

“ But what if the friend really messed up? Like they did something to break your trust in them and it would change everything?” You countered as Mr. Harrington took a sip of his drink, chuckling. 

“ Then don’t be friends with them. Forget that they ever existed.”

“ But I still want to be friends with them!” 

Mr. Harrington nodded and pointed towards you as if a lightbulb shined above his head,” There it is! I offered you a choice and you decided against it so when I offered you an alternative choice that contradicts the first, you still decided against it. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, have both. You clearly still want to be friends with this said person but you just need to build up that trust again, right?” 

You leaned back into the couch and looked at your drink as you thought about your relationship with Brad. 

Mr. Harrington was right, you didn’t want to get rid of Brad but it would take time to make things work. You nodded as Mr. Harrington gave a small smile. 

“ Again, you’re young and you’ll make mistakes that’s what life is all about. As long as this choice doesn’t kill you or kill others, everything will work itself out.” 

“ Thanks, Mr. Harrington, I think I know what I need to do now,” You said as you gathered your things and stood up,” also, you should ask out Ms. Fletcher when we get back. She’s been wanting to talk to you since you two chaperoned homecoming together.” 

You didn’t wait to see his reason but as walked past him, you felt him stand up straighter, almost happier. 

You opened the door and made your way back to the hotel when you saw Brad standing in the middle of the path. He held a small blue shopping bag at his side and his other hand was stuffed into his pocket. 

You felt your breath hitch inside your throat as the two of you locked eyes but you decided to walk over to him. He walked a few steps towards you before stopping in front of you. 

His nose was covered in a large bandage but for the most part, he looked like he didn’t have any other injuries. 

“ Is it broken?” You asked after a moment as Brad shook his head. 

“ No, it’s just bruised. Between your busted lip and my purple nose, our moms are going to freak out huh?” Brad said lightheartedly as you let out a puff of air. 

You moved your hand to your bottom lip and ran a quick finger over it before looking back up to Brad. 

You weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him but he took a deep breath and beat you to it. 

“ I’m sorry for everything Y/N. I know I’m an asshole for kissing you and I’m a bigger asshole for accidentally sending it to everyone,” Brad sighed as he stepped out of the way for a family carrying skies,” I only meant to send it to Peter but that still wasn’t right.”

“ Why did you even do it in the first place?” You asked as the two of you stepped to the side and sat on an empty bench a few yards from the hotel entrance. 

Brad put the shopping bag to the side and shook his head,” I was being protective. I saw how MJ and Peter broke up and how messy things got and sure, they’re fine now but I don’t want you to get hurt. I guess I just wanted you to myself.” 

MJ and Peter had dated briefly for a couple of months but as quickly as it started, it had ended just before school had begun. She hardly ever talked about it but according to Ned, they were both completely over each other. 

“ Oh come on Brad. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, do you really think I would forget about you just like that?” You asked as you crossed your legs and turned to face him,” I’m turning eighteen this year and that means I’m old enough to make my own decisions without you getting insecure. Do you think I’m going to jump off a cliff just because some dude breaks my heart?” 

“ You get emotionally invested in things-”

“ Because I care!” You shouted as you drew in a few onlookers,” aren’t you supposed to be emotionally invested in a relationship- do you even realize your reasoning? That doesn’t make me weak Brad.”

“ I never said it did,” Brad sighed as he fixed his beanie,” I know it sounds super toxic or whatever but I really was just trying to protect you. I’m sorry for kissing you and sending the picture and fighting with Peter. I take full responsibility for everything, especially getting socked in the face cause I definitely deserved that. I just want you to be happy and I’ll do anything for you to forgive me.”

You and Brad had been friends for years and yet, as sad as it was to admit, this was the first time he ever took responsibility for his actions. 

Do you forgive him? Not completely especially since the damage was already done but you weren’t as angry as you were from the start.

Was it the best apology in the world? Of course not but it was a start and you believed in second chances. 

“ You’re lucky I’m such a good friend...of course I forgive you,” You said as Brad’s face lit up,” but one two conditions. You have to forever buy pizza on movie nights and you need to apologize to Peter.” 

Brad smiled sweetly and handed the small shopping bag over to you,” This will cover the pizza for sure.”

You raised your eyebrow at him before turning over to the shopping bag. You reached in and pulled out the pair of special edition Olympic goggles you were admiring on the second day of the trip. 

“ Shut the fuck up, are you serious!” You shrieked as you held them up to show him,” these were the ones I was looking at, remember? Wait- I can’t take this, it's so expensive like movie theatre snack expensive.” 

You put the goggles back into the bag and gave it back to Brad but he pushed it back to you,” No returns nerd. Guess you gotta keep it huh?” 

You clutched the shopping bag close to your chest,” I can’t believe you got this for me...I guess I don’t hate you that much but you still have to apologize to Peter.”

Brad leaned back in his seat and sighed,” I did once I was conscious. He said he forgave me and we actually had a long talk about the whole thing but something is still bothering him. Maybe you should talk to him.” 

You bit the bottom of your lip and nodded. You knew your conversation wouldn’t be as easy as it was with Brad but it had to be done. 

“ Do you think he’s mad at me?” 

Brad exhaled and shrugged,” I guess you gotta find out.” 

                                              --------------------

After you showered, you decided to go to Peter’s room to try and talk to him since he didn’t show up for lunch and dinner. Ned lied and said Peter caught a stomach bug but you knew he was just avoiding you. 

Peter needed time to himself to think and you wanted to give him space but at the same time, you wanted to resolve everything between the two of you. 

You knocked against the door to the boys room again and waited patiently since it was already so late. You heard someone get off of the bed and their footsteps got louder as they approached the door. 

“ Y/N? What are you doing here?” Ned asked as he opened the door.

You shifted awkwardly and tried to peep around him,” Is Peter here? I wanted to just say hi.” 

Ned gave a quick glance behind him before shaking his head,” He’s showering.”

Before you could respond, the bathroom door swung open and out stepped Brad with a towel around his waist. 

“ Hey Y/N, whatcha need?” Brad asked as he used another smaller towel to dry his hair. 

You dropped your gaze to Ned and raised your eyebrows,” Really Ned?” 

You looked back up to Brad and leaned your side against the doorframe,” Hey Brad, by any chance is Peter in there with you?” 

Brad laughed and turned back to the bathroom, shaking his head,” I would hope not. I thought he said he was going to the jacuzzi for a bit?” 

You hummed as you looked back to Ned who was avoiding your eye contact,” Thanks for your help.”

You turned away but Brad called after you. You turned around as a ball of heavy fabric hit you in the face. 

“ It’s cold, put that on,” Brad said before closing the door on you. 

You huffed under your breath but put the robe on anyway since you knew it would be freezing outside. 

You went down the elevator and tapped your fingers against the side of your thigh nervously. You made it pretty clear to Peter that you didn’t need him but that was because you were in the heat of the moment. 

You got out of the elevator and headed toward the back courtyard where the hot tubs were. You stopped at the double doors and took a peek outside and sure enough, Peter was in the farthest hot tub with his head rested all the way back. 

You took in a deep breath and opened the door slowly, still thinking about how you should approach it. 

The frigid air flew past you and up your legs as you wrapped the robe tighter around your body. 

You could act totally chill and see what he says first so he can have the upper hand or you could just suck it up and own up to your mistake. 

A part of you made you second guess yourself. 

Obviously he was avoiding you if he had Ned lie to your face and in hindsight, maybe bombarding Peter wasn’t the right thing to do. If Peter needed hours to think things over with you, it only meant things weren’t going to work out. 

Before you could step back and walk away, Peter lifted his head up and made eye contact with you. 

“ Y/N? Hey! What are you doing out here?” Peter asked as he sat up from his spot. 

Fuck. 

You let go of the door but it hit you in your side awkwardly as it shut behind you. You couldn’t just leave now that he saw you so you gave a small wave as you waddled across the patio towards him. 

“ I was just gonna try out the hot tub,” You lied awkwardly as you stood in front of Peter as you tried to keep your eyes off his bare chest” cause it’s uh hot.”

Peter looked you up and down and gave a small unsure smile,” Okay, get in then. There’s enough room for both of us.”

You looked down at your striped pajama shorts and your robotics club tank top as you let out a nervous laugh. You didn’t think he would call your bluff but nonetheless, you decided to play along. 

You took off Brad’s robe and folded it to the side before slowly submerging yourself in the hot tub, fully clothed. 

No matter how warm the water felt, the feeling of wearing clothes in the hot tub felt like it should be against the law. 

Peter sat up straighter as you sat across from him with your knees touching his. He never thought you would actually get in but now that you were, the inside of his mouth began to feel dry. 

“ Y/N, w-what are you actually doing here?” Peter asked again as you bit the inside of your cheek. 

Now that he was right in front of you, you didn’t know the right words to say without embarrassing yourself any further. 

“ I wanted to say sorry about earlier, I know I said some pretty mean stuff that I didn’t mean at all,” You looked at Peter as he kept his gaze on you,” I know you were just looking out for me and I was being stupid. I would’ve apologized sooner but you kinda were avoiding me.”

Peter watched your face for a moment before turning his attention to the bubbling water. He knew you were right, he was too scared to have this conversation with you only because he was afraid of how it would end. 

He needed time to think about everything. With Liz, there were problems with her dad and with MJ, it was stupid fights yet with you, there was just more drama like Brad that he wasn’t ready for. 

Any second now, he thought you would tell him that you really did have feelings for Brad and that it was nothing personal. He was used to it at this point; always being someone’s second choice and never the first. 

“I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn’t have punched him in the face and I shouldn’t have said that I didn’t trust you, I’m sorry,” Peter sighed as he rubbed his face with his hands,” but you and Brad have so much history Y/N I can’t compete with him.”

“ I’m not asking you to compete, Peter- there is no competition. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t have feelings for him? I like you and only you but if you don’t believe me then what else am I supposed to do?” You asked in a frustrated tone as you tried to keep yourself together.

Peter looked back up at you sadly before taking a breath,” I don’t know! I don’t know...I just really like you Y/N. You know, I’ve liked you ever since senior year started. It was the day in BioChem when I forgot my project and it was worth 60% of our class grade. We weren’t even friends at the time and yet, you made a smoke bomb from the leftover lab and the whole school had to be evacuated just because of me.”

You shook your head from embarrassment,” Brad and Tao had an asthma attack so that’s nothing to be proud of….but I could tell that you were about to cry and I wasn’t going to let the smartest guy in the class fail over a stupid mistake.”

Peter opened his mouth but nothing came out of his mouth. You caught this and titled your head to the side,” What is it?” 

Peter cleared his throat,” When did you know that you liked me?” 

You shifted in your spot as you tried to remember. In all honesty, you admitted to yourself that you had liked Peter after Brad had kissed you but maybe that wasn’t the best thing to tell Peter. 

“ I think this trip really made me see you differently. I always thought you were really sweet and cute but I guess it wasn’t until we were on the ski lift that I really saw myself being with you. I mean, I told you about my brother and I haven’t told anyone about that, not even Brad. I just instantly trusted you,” You said truthfully,” do you trust me?”

Peter’s heart was beating a million times per second. He trusted you about everything you said about Brad and how the kiss meant nothing yet he didn’t understand why he was still so nervous. 

Deep down, Peter knew that he didn’t trust himself. One way or another, it always felt like any relationship he was in was ruined because of his mistakes. 

“ I trust you and of course, I want to be with you but If I’m being honest, I’m scared we’re moving too fast. I don’t want us to break up over something stupid-”

“Peter, I’m not saying we have to jump into a relationship at this very second,” You interrupted,” and yeah I agree, I’ve never been so quick to find myself falling for a guy but there’s nothing wrong with slowing this down. All I know is that I like you and I want to see where this goes if you’re up for it.”

Peter could feel how flushed his face was and his chest felt heavy. He had pined over you for months and from what you were saying, it was music to his ears. 

His heart pounded in his throat as he nodded before reaching over to grab your hand. He gently pulled you across the water into his arms as you naturally straddled him. 

“ I thought we were taking things slow,” You said softly as Peter tucked away a stand of your hair behind your ear. 

You could feel how nervous the two of you were in this moment as if it was a chess game. Who would make the first move and what would the other person do. 

This gave Peter time to catch his own breath because even he caught himself off guard. His hands lingered on the side of your hips as you shifted ever so slightly. 

“ We are,” Peter finally said before leaning in slowly to brush his lips against yours. He only meant to test the waters but for him, one-touch and it was over. 

He pulled you in closer as he pressed his lips against yours but harder. You moved your hand to the back of his neck and deepened the kiss, both of your lips moving in perfect sync. 

The movies could never do the kiss justice; there was no fireworks or sparks, but pure warmth. It filled Peter up and spilled out of his heart and through every inch of his body like a drug and he was addicted.

As much as you didn’t want to, you pulled away after a moment to catch your breath. Peter looked back up at you almost offended but he had realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. 

“ You know, for someone who wants to take things slow, you really like to go fast,” You teased as Peter rubbed his fingers against the small of your back. 

“ I’m sorry,” Peter bit the bottom of his lip as he took in the moment of you so close to him,” I just couldn’t help myself.”

@spaghetittiesbcimgay​ @holland-in-disguise​ @yeahimcrying​ @greatpizzascissorstaco​  @mysticalbanshee​ @weyheyavengers​ @infinityflamesworld​ @fandom-fangirl22​ @peterparkoure​ @crumpets-are-better-with-jam​ @marvel4geeks​ @sad-sagita​ @juliebean247​ @quitepointless​  @bannanasz​ @spideyyeet​ @cherrysruin​ @illwritetomorrow​  selintugmen  potter-head-phanatic @ justrepostandlove  @melrosaeparker​  @drunklili​ 

[shimmershae]

My thoughts on Episode 3--Hunted.

 Most of you lovelies already realize this, but my thoughts tend to zig and zag quite a bit, lol.  So.  To save some of you the headache and spare you from seeing spoilers you’d rather not see yet, I’m again placing them behind a cut.  

First things first.  I have totally turned into Yvette Nicole Brown with her TWD notebooks, lol, and I’m not even sorry.  I just felt like it would be fun to go back when the final episode is in the books and see how well my thoughts from these early episodes line up with what I’m feeling when we say our (not-so) final goodbyes.  

But that’s enough about that. Let’s get to this thing.  

It really is insane how very much I love Melissa McBride.  Just hearing her doing the previously on TWD recap voiceover makes me ridiculously happy.  

Cole!  Dude!  We hardly knew ya.  

Not gonna lie.  That first shot of Maggie in all the chaos reminded of a shirt I’ve seen.  It says--”Well, well, well.  If it isn’t the consequences of my actions.”  

I have to hand it to Angela and the rest of her team.  These opening scenes--on all 3 episodes--have been BOMB so far.  They really hook you in right away.  At least IMHO.  

I realize I’m behind the game on this little tidbit, but how much do I adore the fact that Dog is now in the opening credits?  

Okay.  Alexandria might look like it’s been on some kind of post-apocalyptic bender but all our girls are looking beautiful as ever.  Maybe it’s Maybelline, lol.  

I love to see Kelly and Carol still gravitating toward each other.  It really speaks to each woman’s heart.  Carol wants to make amends so badly and Kelly just has the most lovely, warm, forgiving heart.  

Carol’s point about Alexandria still needing the horses to help with the heavy lifting and pointing out the walls and rebuilding won’t matter quite as much if they’re limited by their  hunger and what they can physically lift on their own isn’t wrong.  But I’m sure the same viewers that were okay with Daryl and Co. going out on Maggie’s suicide mission (using the same reasoning) and saying it made sense for the bigger picture will pretend not to recognize that the same element is there in Carol’s desire to go out there and look for the horses.  You know.  Because it was Carol’s idea and not that of their fave(s).  

Aaron, Man.  Or maybe I should say Angela.   You just had to put a pit of dread in my belly mentioning Buttons like that.  RIP, Buttons.  You deserved better.  I’m still traumatized.  

Look at all the babies bonding.  Look at RJ getting to sit at the big kid table.  

“My mom always comes back.”  She damn well better.  Those babies need her.  Until she does, though, Uncle Daryl and Aunt Carol (and Aunt Rosita and everybody else) are going to be there.  

Anyway.  Poor RJ.  He barely ever gets any lines, lol.  

Hershel and Judith are obviously the mini-adults in this group and baby Rhee is already more cynical and jaded than his sweet daddy was until they reached Alexandria and the wheels started to come off.  

So.  Does Maggie just think everybody’s already dead here or what?  Hmm.  

You know.  Any building can be creepy AF when the lights are off and it’s dark, lol.  Any building.  

So much darkness so far this season.  I’m going to have to invest in some blackout curtains.  I just know it.  

Where are all those stairs leading?  Why am I thinking of Hitchcock?  Am I mixing up my scary, suspenseful movies?  Probably.  

Of fucking course, Maggie dropped her flashlight.  Thank goodness she had that lighter at the ready just before Ghost Face Reaper took a swipe at her.  

Is that Father G with a screwdriver impaled in his thigh?  Listen.  These people deserve a Mega Bottle of pain killers and a week just vegging out in a soft, luxurious bed.  

All these horror movie tropes.  Some of them are cheesy, yes.  But I’m totally here for it.  

LMAO.  That’s it, Maggie.  A good old punch in the nuts works every time.  

Alden really is having a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.  

Negan is still Negan.  Self-serving and looking out for number one.  But I believe the man really does feel the group is his group too.  He’s like that long lost, sketchy uncle nobody wants to acknowledge much less invite to the dinner table, but that bond?  However thin?  Is there.  

I am both hating that Maggie is being forced to work with the man that murdered her husband (my baby Glenn) and finding it fascinating the lengths she’s willing to go to survive.  This your plan, Angela?  

Rosita and Carol!  How sad is it that the last really significant scene I can remember the two of these women sharing was way back?  Before Rick and Co. attacked Negan’s outpost and Maggie and Carol were subsequently taken?  If only the show had done more of these kind of scenes.  

How much do I love all the girls working together?  Gimps would never.  They’d all be stuck back at Alexandria minding the kids and the community.  

Shallow aside--Rosita is so pretty in this scene.  

Rosita being worried about Carol honestly makes my heart hurt, because it’s about damn time more of them actually did.  Her saying Abraham is trying to tell her something in her dreams is interesting.  Angela sure loves her dreams, doesn’t she?  

Where are Daryl’s dreams, hmm?  No.  Seriously.  I guess they want to give some viewers plausible deniability until the bitter end.  

“Really?  We’re just gonna go toward the screaming?  Cool.”  Hahaha.  You know.  Even the smart people in horror movies sometimes bite it, Negan.  Just saying.  Maggie really does need to “stop running up the staircase” when she could just run out the front door though, lol.  

Poor Duncan.  I think you could have been another Tyreese, Jerry type for me.  

WTF does this show have against horses?  Those poor creatures.  

Kelly is totally me right now.  I’d be freaking inconsolable.  

Carol needed that hug.  Thank you, Magna.  From the bottom of this tired fangirl’s heart, thank you.  

Why give us that beautiful, golden shot with the horses when you’re planning to stab us through the heart later and twist the knife.  Oh.  Yeah.  That’s exactly why.  

Oh snap!  Father G’s delivery when he tells that Reaper “I’m not.  God isn’t here anymore.”  Cold as ice.  

Judas.  That the Reapers’ work.  Or.  Damn.  Either way, that’s harsh.  

Back to what Alden was saying.  All these oprhaned children.  Who’s going to take on Adam if he dies?  That poor kid has had a rough go of it.  Knowing that, makes you wonder what Alden was thinking volunteering for the suicide mission.  

Omigosh.  There went Agatha.  Terrible way to go.  Right, Beatrice?  

I’m sobbing.  Carol with the horse.  That hurt my baby so much but she hurt herself for her family the same way she has been doing since the Prison.  Melissa Mcbride?  When she cries, I cry.  Every effin’ time.  Aaron being there just made it hurt more.  But at least someone was there to see how and really take in how she continues to break pieces of herself off to keep her family as whole and safe and happy as she can.  

Rewinding a minute--that Magna and Carol conversation.  I get Magna’s reasoning too.  I do.  But Angela is just making everything so dire right now so that the sun when Connie is ultimate found shines a ltitle brighter.  

Those babies know they’re eating horse.  I could never.  

That’s got to be a different Coco.  She’s even smaller.  But she’s gorgeous.  

Fucking finally.  Angela having the other characters notice after an eternity of being blind to it, just how much Carol sacrifices of herself for them.  It’s so long overdue and I imagine Rosita’s even more worried for Carol now.  It’s a shame it’s taken 11 seasons.  My baby’s had blood on her hands trying to keep her family safe and whole and happy and fed for a long damn time.  So heartbreaking watching her try to scrub the blood away.  

Sweet, sweet hug that Kelly gave Magna.  She’s such a sweetheart kid sis to all of them, isn’t she?  

Interesting place of refuge.  A gutted church.  A visual symbol, Angela, of where Maggie and the rest of our people are now perhaps?  

“It’s easy for you, isn’t it?  Being reckless with sombody’s life...”  Maggie.  Maggie.  Those words would have hit so much harder if we hadn’t spent the majority of the last 2.5 episodes watching you ignore sound advice just because it came out of the mouth of somebody you (justifiably) hate.  

But will Alden be there when Maggie and Negan get back?  That is the question.  Or will he eventually Lucille himself?  

That little bit of lineup Negan music to remind the audience of Negan lovers and sympathizers that he once took great pleasure in murderously swinging a bag at people’s heads was a nice, subtle touch there.  Like agree with her or not, Maggie  is literally left to rely  on the hope, however small it is, that Negan has changed just enough that he won’t try to finish a job he taken on years before--killing what’s left of her.  

Oh lawd.  Next episode sees the return of a character literally nobody asked for.  How excited am I not?  

Dog better not be harmed or so help me.  

Now for Angela’s weekly explanations of WTF she/there were thinking because they been doing this plausible deniability thing so long some people out there watching with biased, muddy stan glasses can no longer separate head canon from canon.  

Is Maggie worried at all about Daryl or does she just assume his superhero powers are in full effect in this episode?  

“You can’t really say it wasn’t going to happen anyway.”  Not Angela pointing out that simply laying the blame for literally everything bad that ever happens at Carol’s feet isn’t the answer.  Say it louder for those in the back.  Alpha was going to do what Alpha wanted to do.  

“There is love there.  There is respect there.  However, there’s also frustration...”  You damn skippy.  Friendships and human relationships are complex AF.  Like Carol. She’s honestly one of the most complicated characters on this show and any show, IMHO.  That’s what makes her so memorable and such a lightning rod for discussion.  

I know I might be in a minority, but I really feel like they need more of those little scenes between the kids to keep things real.  

Kang saying she always feels like she’s going to get murdered in a staircase or parking lot is relatable, funny, and sad all at the same time.  It’s a girl thing.  

Why is Carol’s story giving me Dark Knight vibes?  Like I feel like she’ll gladly shoulder the burden of their distrust, their hate, or their judgment as long as the hard choices she makes keeps them safe.  And she’s still ultimately going to come back to save their asses even when they forsake her.  Just like Bruce Wayne/Batman.  Am I reaching too far, lol?  Because sometimes I do that.  

Anyway.  This is the third episode of the season and the third episode in a row that I mostly enjoyed.  I don’t know if I’m just so relieved and happy to have all the characters and my show back or what, but overall?  I’ve been pleased with the episodes and found something to love in all of them.  

There’s a much stronger horror vibe woven throughout Season 11 so far.  I feel like it’s a return to the roots of the show and I like that.  Literally none of the characters are making perfect choices and this viewer is here for it.  My only complaint so far is there hasn’t been enough Carol but what we’ve been given has felt like a gift and significant in a way that Gimps’ version was not.  Also?  I really hope the trend of the ladies working together and supporting each other continues because they rule the TWD world, lol.  

Hope you enjoyed at least some of my TWD word vomit.  

Until next episode.  

[detroitbydark]

Every Dog Has His Day

Chapter 3

Characters: Hound/OC

Summary: Good boys, fuck boys, and the things between

Warnings: Aggression toward women.

A/N: does anyone feel like I should put Mando’a translations in at the end? Would it be helpful?

——-

“Good morning GAR. It’s 0400. What does “o” stand for? Well I can think of a few things but let’s go with Oh maker, I’m ready to hit the rack. Any boys in white care to join me?”

Hound would. In a heartbeat. In a Coruscant minute.

Hound is in the gym early. Really early. He’s never needed much sleep to function at his peak but 0400 is stupid o’clock even for him. He passes the time until the mess opens lifting while Grizzer snores near his armor across the room. Right now the massiff is using his rolled up kama as a pillow and Hound wonders idly how hard it’s going to be to clean the drool off. He’s alone with his thoughts and the radio.

He falls into the steady rhythm of sets and reps. He wasn’t a small vod by any means. There’s been a joke in his batch that the settings had malfunctioned on his pod. He was only a half an inch taller, but he was thicker than his batchmates, not commando big but enough to be noticeable in a line up. Lifting weights kept his bulk from atrophying. He didn’t mind the small layer of fluff over his muscles but he wanted them strong and ready for whatever the Grand Army called him to do.

The radio plays quietly over the weight room’s audio channel. Nuna’s smokey voice is a highlight too late to save a very bad week. Two bombings and a half dozen threats (most, copy cats) had kept the Guard on edge and high alert. He and Grizzer had worked them all, tracking and searching wreckage for survivors. Hound glances at his partner. One too many dead bodies had left the massiff feeling dejected and down. Not even his favorite tug toy or a big meaty bantha knuckle has been able to cheer him up. Hound isn’t feeling much better.

He’s not sure what was causing the surge but he knows he’d give just about anything for it to be over with. On top of that (and a far better distraction than the chaos and death of terrorist attacks), there was still the matter of Nuna herself that had him spun out of sorts. They’d had fun at the Fete, even if it had only been a short time. She hadn’t been faking that and he certainly hadn’t. Maybe he’d come on too strong with the call but, honestly, he’d thought it was cute. Maybe he’d embarrassed her?

He wasn’t ready to give up just yet. It was how he’d gotten his name. Tenacious like a hound. The trainers on Kamino had joked that once he was on a trail he wasn’t giving up ‘til he completed his prime objective.

His prime objective now was getting Nuna Skii’s commlink. And a date.

It didn’t matter that Rule had teased him after his on-air brush-off or that Ryk had given him a look that said he didn’t believe he'd had lunch with anybody let alone Nuna Skii. Hound knew though, and he knew that she’d had fun. If she hadn't, why had she smiled so brightly when he’d asked her questions? Why had she braced her hand on his arm and dissolved into laughter when he said something that was, admittedly, not as funny as it sounded in his head?

The barbell comes to rest on the rack with a clatter. Grizzer looks up from his nap, his great tongue licking lazily at his maw.

“Do you think I’m being stupid?”

The massiff stares blankly.

“Well, yeah, but she did seem interested.”

Grizzer rises slowly, stretching with a groan before ambling over to his partner and laying his head in Hound’s lap. He manages to roll onto his back without losing contact. Hound reaches down to scratch his leathery belly.

“Yeah, well, there’s something about her I really like. I think I should try again.”

Grizzer whines.

“But how, you ask? I’m not sure, bud.”

“In bigger news, it’s the end of the week and I think we all deserve a bit of a treat, don’t you?”

Grizzer turns toward Nuna’s voice and lets out a happy sound. Hound laughs.

“No treats before breakfast, Grizz. You know the rules.” The massiff offers his handler a sad pair of eyes and Hound shakes his head. “Not gonna fall for that.”

“Tonight ladies and lads we’re having ladies’ night at 79’s. Come find yourself a battle buddy and if one of you lucky listeners can find me I may have a special surprise just for you!”

Hound listens intently. Ryk and Rule were sure to be down for a night out after the week they’d had. The Commander has been busy keeping his assistant working late so he likely wouldn’t be game - not that Hound could blame him - but Thire might be convinced. Since the scuffle with the 501st boys a few weeks back the buddy system has been in play. The more the merrier as far as he was concerned. Now all he had to do was find a way to talk to her.

———

“If you pull on the skirt one more time, I swear to the maker I will end you.”

Nuna rolls her eyes at Tully’s threat. The skirt was too short and the Pantoran was out of her fekking mind if she thought this wouldn’t be the way the rest of the night played out.

“I dressed you pretty for a reason. Stop trying to ruin it.”

“I look like a cased sausage.” She tries - and fails - to keep the whine from her voice. Tully softens and grips her shoulders gently.

“First off, if that's the case, you are the sexiest sausage I’ve ever seen.” Nuna stifles a laugh behind a pout. “Second,” Nuna winces as her friend punches her in the shoulder, “There’s more where that came from if I hear one more second of negative self talk tonight. Got me?”

“Kriff Tull-“ Nuna rubs at her shoulder. “Fine, I’m the sexiest sausage Coruscant has ever seen. Just don’t hurt me anymore.”

The Pantoran laughs and leans forward, placing a smacking kiss on the shorter woman’s head. “I love you and your issues,” she mumbles.

“Can we just have a drink now?”

79’s is packed. Shebs to gett’se. There’s the usual mix of clones from various divisions and battalions crowded in small groups of grey and white with pops of color signaling who they were to the world. There’s also a large contingent of women - every species, color and shape known to man. Nuna smiles happily as she brings her drink to her lips only to frown a moment later at the deep plum smear of lipstick on the glass.

“No transfer my ass,” she grumbles as she takes another long pull. Tully bought the first round, and whatever it is is sweet on Nuna’s tongue like star cherry candy with the familiar burn of booze behind it. It’s good but if she fills her night with more of them she’ll be nursing a killer hangover come morning. “I’ve got the next round.”

“As if I was going to let you get away without paying your fair share.”

Nuna rolls her eyes as she finishes the last of her drink. She’s already feeling just a little bit more loose and relaxed. Her hips move in a mindless, lazy figure-eight to the driving thud of the bass. Not her favorite, but Nuna loved to dance nearly as much as she loved music. Well maybe not that much, but certainly a close second.

Back home on Irmenu both had been frowned upon by the Priesthood and if they didn’t approve it was almost heretical to go against them. It hadn’t been ‘til she’d been exiled with her parents that she’d heard her first real music - outside of mindless chanting - and her first experience with really letting go and letting her body take over. It was freeing. Liberating. It was at that moment that she’d known she wanted to work around it, to be part of it somehow, for the rest of her life. It had been the driving force for so long that she had a hard time looking outside of it. Maybe that was how she’d gotten to nearly 25 and had nothing but a paycheck and an empty apartment to keep her company. Tully tries to say something over the noise of the speakers.

She had Tully too. A better best friend no girl has ever had.

“Have you finished yours yet?” The Pantoran holds up her glass, shaking the lone ice cubes around for show. Nuna holds hers up to show hers in the same state of emptiness.

“Ready for another?”

“You have to ask? Pony up girl. It’s your turn.”

There was something nice about the anonymity of her radio persona. As she moves through the crowd she doesn’t need to worry about being recognized or stopped by a fan looking for a picture. The one disappointment was that she still had to wait at the bar like everyone else.

She taps on the bar once to get the tender’s attention. The Twi’lek woman gives her a nod and the finger gesture for ‘one moment’ before quickly changing it to ‘two moments.’ Nuna blows a breath from the corner of her mouth. Ok, maybe a little notoriety wouldn’t be so bad once in a while. She’s waiting patiently, hip pressed against the bar, booted foot tapping along to the beat when someone taps her on the shoulder.

“Nuna?” She cringes at the voice, doing her best to press a convincing smile into place as she turns. “Hey, I thought that was you.” She flinches when a long thin finger flicks at one of the curls she’d managed to cultivate in her short hair. It bounces merrily as she looks into the face of the last man she’d hoped to see.

She only has one to go off of but, as far as exes went, Nuna was fairly certain she had one of the worst. All of the things she’d once found incredibly handsome about Alistar S’uun were now… what did Tully refer to him as?… ah yes, smarmy.

She’d been lonely and wholly too innocent to get involved with him when she’d first arrived in the Triple-Zero, but that hadn’t stopped her from losing her heart - and other things - to the arrogant son of a bantha. He’d been all slicked back hair and clothes that screamed money. He’d taken her to nice places, introduced her to important people. She’d thought it was love until she’d walked in on him and his assistant one day when she’d stopped by to bring him lunch.

To say it ended badly was an understatement, but she’d been lucky. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a standard year. Lucky until tonight.

“Alistar,” she greets, tucking her hair back behind her ears, as if it would stop him from touching it if he wanted to. Alistar did what he wanted when he wanted, and you either dealt with it or got out of the way.

“You look great. Lost a few of those troublesome pounds?”

A wave of annoyance washes over her as she glances back over her shoulder and toward the bartender. She just needed her karking drinks so she could make her escape. The Twi’lek is still occupied further down the bar.

“How have you been?” she asks, ignoring his questions and the undertones it entailed.

“Oh you know, doing a bit of this and that. Father is letting me take some of reins on the new acquisitions-“

“That’s lovely, Alistar. I’m very happy for you,” she lies through her teeth. His father was a shipping magnate and nepotism had been good to Alistar.

Nuna glances toward where she’d left Tully and sees a flash of red and white talking to her. Her heart stutters only to realize that it’s not the now somewhat familiar armor Hound wore. The trooper is somewhat smaller, less broad through the middle. The tell-tale snarl is missing from his helmet.

“I hear that little radio show of yours is still doing well.”

Here it comes, she thinks. This was always how it started. Alistar would make some little undermining comment and she’d get upset. Inevitably she’d be crying and he’d tell her she needed to get a sense of humor. Nuna could see it all unfolding before her eyes, but this time she wasn’t going to fall for it.

“I always knew you had a face for radio-” he smiles widely holding his hands up, “Oops! you know what I meant, right Nunz?”

“Yeah, Al, I got you loud and clear.” Her smile is forced and she grits her teeth with such force she’s surprised one doesn’t crack. “So it’s been lovely catching up but I’m going to go find Tull-“ His hand catches her upper arm as she turns to leave. She regrets wearing the sleeveless top Tully had picked out. She doesn’t like the feel of his skin against her own.

“Still friends with the Pant? Maker, you really are desperate aren’t you? Stay and talk for a while. I’m better company.” She shakes off his grip, his smile now beginning to look just as fake as the one she’d been wearing.

She promised herself wasn’t going to take the bait, really she wasn’t, she was better than that… but he’d brought Tully into it.

“She cares about me more than you ever did.” The smile is gone now and Aliatar’s pale brows arch up in surprise at the venom in her voice.

“So are you laying like a cold fish for her to fuck you too? Low standards-“

She turns to move again, puts one foot in front of the other, before he yanks her back. The heel of her boot slips and her stumble only makes his grip tighten. Her arm twists in a way that sends pain shooting like wildfire from her shoulder to the tips of her fingers.

“Don’t you dare walk-“

Nuna had never hurt so much as a fly in her life, but the blinding rage that rises up from her gut does something to her. Before she can even comprehend what she’s doing her balled up fist is connecting solidly with Alistar’s face. He doubles over while Nuna whines, snapping her hand back to her chest before beginning to shake it roughly. The pain she’d felt in her arm was nothing to what her knuckles were feeling now.

“Kriff, Kriff, Kriff,” she grits out, flexing her fingers.

“Why you dumb little nerf cow-“ She glances up to see Alistar take a step toward her. Something akin to fear prickles at the back of her senses. She’d seen that look before in his eyes. It scared her now like it had back then.

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” Red and white armor steps into Nunas view. “What seems to be the problem here?” Hound's voice is easy going as his head swings from Nuna to Alistar, who is rubbing his jaw, his other finger jabbing accusingly in Nuna’s direction.

“This little bitch-“

“Alright buddy” Hound holds a hand up calmingly “I’m going to stop you right there. Let me clarify-“ he turns to Nuna fully. Her heart stutters as he pulls the hand she’s cradling close to her chest up for inspection. “What��s going on here, sweetheart?” he asks quietly.

“I was just trying to leave and he grabbed me. It hurt,” she tries to tamp down the tremble in her voice, “I just wanted him to let go.”

Hound gives her an unreadable look. His thumbs stroke gently over her knuckles. Something warm springs to life in her belly that takes the edge off her discomfort.

“Hey, you! Clone,” Alistar’s voice rises up, “I demand this woman be arrested. I’ve been assaulted. You’re in the Guard. Do your job.”

There’s a tic in Hound’s jaw, really the only thing that gives the slightest hint of his annoyance as he turns back to the other man. A small crowd is gathering around them, mostly clones with a few civilians scattered in.

“Ok friend, first it’s Sargeant. Second,” he glances around and Nuna sees familiar colors of clone armor; blues, yellows, and reds surrounding them, “From my vantage point it looked like you were hurting the lady.” The clones around them nod in agreement.

“Oh this is just fracking great!” Alistar laughs, throwing his head back and taking a deep breath before glaring between Hound and Nuna. “You’re fucking her aren’t you?” he spits at Hound before rounding on Nuna, “You’re fucking government property now? That’s low even for you.”

Nuna feels tears welling up. She didn’t want to do anything now but go home and get away from the looks she just knew were coming her way. She glances down at her feet. When she looks up Hound is grabbing Alistar by the shoulders. His movements are quick, efficient, and practiced.

Hound tips Alistar forward just enough to bring an armored knee up into the other man’s unprotected gut. Alistar doubles over with a strangled wheeze, gripping at the bar for support before sinking to his knees. Hound turns his soft eyes to her.

“You’ve never punched someone.” It’s not a question. He takes her hand again, thumb stroking over her tender knuckles. “Wiggle your thumb,” he encourages, offering her a bright smile when she does.

“Ok. Good. It’s not broken,” he announces to himself, “Never wrap your fingers around your thumb. Next time you might not be so lucky.”

Nuna nods mutely.

“So what you want to do is-“ he proceeds to shape her hand into a fist. His big gloved hands completely envelop her smaller one as he tucks her thumb against the outside of her balled fingers. He presses it firmly as if to make the point that this was where it was supposed to be.

From the way he’s acting, she’s more inclined to believe she’s part of one of the ‘girl power’ self defense classes at the community center around the corner from her apartment as opposed to a clone bar. Hound is pleasant- no, he’s nearly perky.

“See how much nicer that looks? Certainly safer for your hand.” Nuna hears a few clones around them hum in agreement. Surreal. “Now, it wasn’t a bad first swing, but you didn’t follow through.”

“Kriffing… seven hells,” Alistar wheezes behind them. Hound makes a sound in his throat to catch her attention from the other man struggling to stand up.

“What you need to do next time is follow through. The target isn’t his jaw. It’s this magic little spot behind his jaw. Do you understand?”

Nuna’s eyes are drawn to Alistar who is rising to full height, murder written in his eyes.

“Hound-“ she tries to warn him but he merrily waves her off.

“Let me show you, ok?” The big man turns without missing a beat and his fist makes its best attempt at going through Alistar’s jaw. Her ex crumples into a heap, platinum hair disheveled, onto the sticky bar floor.

“Kriffing glass jawed pretty boy,” Hound mumbles as he turns back to her just as jovial and happy as he’d been devouring the nerf skewers and talking about Grizzer at the fete.

She hears a small cheer of “Oya!” go through the gathered ranks as a few clones grab the unconscious man by the shoulder and the rest begin to disperse back to their various areas.

“See? Just like that.”

Nuna swallows hard, bites back a nervous smile and finds her voice. “Just like that?”

“Yup.” Hound rocks back on his heels. “So do you wanna come have a drink with me- us?”

He sounds so hopeful, like pulling the whole Jedi Knight in shining armor bit hadn’t won him at least a little favor. She nods and he gestures for her to move ahead of him, leaving the other troopers to see her unconscious ex out the door.

Hound takes up a position behind her, his hand hovering over her hip to guide her toward the table his brothers stood around. Tully is already there with a serious look on her face.

“Are you ok?” She takes Nuna by the shoulders, looks her over.

“I’m good. I promise.”

“Maker I hate that no good piece of bantha spit.” One of the Guard behind her chokes out a laugh. Tully’s eyes fly to Hound, narrowed and assessing. “So this is the guy?”

“I’m the guy? What guy?” He looks at Nuna questioningly. Something mischievous sparkles in his gentle brown eyes.

Nuna feels her cheeks heat up as she bites out her friend's name. Tully ignores her.

“You bought her lunch at the Festival of Life?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you called into the show to ask her on a date?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tully looks to Nuna and then back to Hound. “What’s up with the ma’am?”

Hound rubs at the back of his neck. His brothers snicker in the background. “Courtesy, ma’am?”

“Call me Tully,” she orders shortly, finally relaxing. Hound breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Vod? You gonna introduce us to your little friend?”

[lailannajacobs]

Good Intentions & Broken Promises | Prologue

Pairing: fey!Loki x fem!reader 

Chapter Summary: You’re summoned before Odin while Loki learns there’s a storm coming. 

Warnings: None! 

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: This little chapter is a set up for what’s to come so it’s not the most exciting, but I hope you enjoy all the same! I’m really excited about this fic and I’d love to know what you think! <3 

There was never anything good about being summoned before Odin. Not the first time it had happened and not any time since. The only difference between then and now was that you knew what to expect, and unfortunately for you, it was never anything good. You jut up your chin, the anger thrumming through your veins keeping you warm.

Every step you took down the pristine, snow-white hallways to the throne room felt like a march toward death; only the death you were walking toward wasn’t your own. You couldn’t explain why this time felt different, but you knew deep in your bones that it was. You could handle it if it was your life on the line. You’d been trained to accept that your life would always be second. What you couldn’t handle was knowing that if he asked you for the impossible, you would lose the only person you cared about — the one person that was alive, not only because you loved her, but because she was too important to be killed by the tyrant sitting on the throne. Your only mission was to keep your sister alive. Everything else, including revenge, came second.

Your escorts pushed open the doors, freezing air rushing out into the hall to greet you. The king, like most people in this realm, thrived in the cold, their powers akin to the everlasting winter that was Niflheim. All the Frost creatures had varying degrees of power, but none that match that of the king. Sitting on a throne carved from ice, the palace was almost as cold and cruel as he was, the cold biting through your thin sweater. For the average human, the palace was practically unbearable, but you were neither human nor a Frost creature. Your ability to blend in with humans was the only reason he had never found out who you were — the reason both of you were still alive.

King Odin brushed back his white hair, tiny flurries of snow bursting at the movement. He appeared uninterested by your arrival, half asleep on the throne, but the slip in control of his magic spoke otherwise. Something had pissed him off and you weren’t sure you wanted to know what it was. His icy blue eyes narrowed and you were afraid he could sense that you were itching to find your sister somewhere in the palace so you could grab her and run so far he’d never reach you. The day he had captured you, Odin had made her a part of his court as collateral for your good behaviour — a decision he’d only made after torturing her so that I would agree to work for him. It was nothing more than a glorified prison, but at least she wasn’t in the dungeon.

Making sure your face was nothing more than emotionless mask, you waited, refusing to speak before he did.

“Vojak,” he used the native term for soldier. He’d never once spoken your name and you seriously doubted he could figure it out to save his life.

You bowed deeply, “I am yours to command.”

The words tasted like acid in your mouth and you fought the urge to straighten and wreak havoc on the palace, knowing you were far too outnumbered, even with your abilities, for both of you to make it out alive. For now, you had to play the obedient soldier until you thought of a way to get you and your sister out, and you held the bow until he told you to rise. Even now, after decades of ruling, Odin never tired of watching his subjects bow to his power. You could only dream of wiping the sneer from his face.

“Enter Natasha,” he barked.

Your sister walked into the throne room, head down, with two guards flanking her. Her face was paler than usual, with dark circles under her eyes, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. It didn’t mean you could breath any easier. The fancy dress and meticulously braided hair was a poor attempt to hide the fact that he hated humans and was biding his time before he could revive the war on purity.

Nat refused to look at you. You didn’t want her to either. Any shared look could mean either of your deaths, no matter how innocent. Her fingers tapped twice at her side, somewhat easing the pressure on your chest. Two taps: I’m okay. Your own tapped three times on your pant leg: I love you.

“I have need of a book,” King Odin boomed, jolting everyone to attention.

Your heart dropped in your chest, dreading what he would say next. There was no doubt in your mind which book he was referring to. After all, there had only ever been one book worth having for a power-hungry narcissist. Only the book was a myth; it didn’t exist. You rolled back your shoulders, counting the massive icicles dripping from the vaulted ceiling to keep from crying out or attempting to kill him before your failure brought his wrath down on Nat. You tried not to let your emotions carry you away. He hadn’t asked for the impossible yet. He could be talking about any book. You didn’t need to get riled up and do something stupid.

“The Hand of Damnation,” the words, spoken so casually, sucked the air from your lungs and you couldn’t breathe, “I have word that it’s in Asgard. I need it. Retrieve it before the Orange Moon.”

He didn’t need to threaten you; the words went unspoken. If you didn’t get the book — the most infamous artefact in the nine realms — then your sister would die, but not before a long and torturous session to remind you of your failures. It didn’t matter that he was asking for the impossible. It didn’t matter that Asgard was an island with nothing other than rumour coming out of it. It didn’t matter that since the war, the magic-welding Fey had closed their borders except for their port town. All you knew for sure was that anyone who got past that town didn’t come back out, all you had were six moons to get in, get the book, and get out.

A guard stepped away form the king’s side and handed you a black pendant, no bigger than an apricot seed hanging off a thin, black rope. There was no design on it, and to anyone else it wouldn’t look like anything other than a simple gemstone, but you knew different. You’d been handed the horrible thing too many times before. When it turned white and freezing , your time was up. You slipped it around your neck, already feeling like it was strangling you — another gruesome reminder of what would happen if you failed.

You lifted your chin, surprised by the sound of your voice when you said, “consider it done.”

Gamora walked into the courtyard, an expression on her face that Loki couldn’t decipher — not that he’d ever had much luck knowing what she was thinking. All he knew for sure was that whatever she was coming to tell him couldn’t be good.

“Found anything?” he asked by way of greeting.

She stopped a foot away, the gentle breeze ruffling her long, dark hair, “nothing of concern to me.”

A sense of dread gripped his stomach and he jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. Whenever Gamora wasn’t needed in Asgard, she was gone, searching the other realms for a way to break her curse. She shouldn’t have been here today. She should have been in Alfheim, which could only mean that whatever she’d seen had been too important to ignore. Loki wasn’t sure he wasn’t to know what it was.

Still, he found himself asking, “how bad?”

She fixed her gaze on him, her dark soulless eyes the only indication of what she truly was, and confirmed what he’d already guessed at, “enough death to have brought me back.”

“Can I stop it?”

She was already here so his question was in vain, but he’d needed to ask it anyways.

“Not all of it,” she stated with absolute certainty.

Loki shivered, though he knew it had nothing to do with the weather. He wanted to ask her how to stop it, but the how was a question she’d always refused to answer. Loki didn’t know if she refused because she couldn’t tell him or because she didn’t want to, but he knew there were other questions she would answer that were worth almost as much.

“What causes it?” he asked.

Her lips puckered in disgust, the most emotion he’d seen on her face in a long time, “your sister is coming. Hella intends to take back the throne.”