#he does act manipulatively/out of controlled malice SOMETIMES

[rosencrantzsguildenstern]

i think something important that idolish7 fic writers should keep in mind is that kujo takamasa very rarely acts out of controlled malice. this man’s sanity is held together by duct tape and a shoe string and his entire motivation is barely repressed dysfunctional yearning and grief

[mikuni14]

Bake Me Please - Ep 5

Bake Me Please is probably the first BL series I've ever seen that has such irritating characters and an irritating plot, but where the irritation comes from how much the series feels REAL and therefore is annoying af as the rl usually is, and not because I just find it annoying personally. For example, I feel a completely different irritation when watching Pit Babe than I do when I watch Bake Me Please, the main difference is that Bake Me Please makes me LOVE being annoyed, I am invested in this stupidity, instead of being tired by it 😄

I literally know such stories from real life, I know people like Peach and Shin. I've seen their situation in rl. In a separate post, I wrote about how Shin is not boyfriend material. Really, the more I think about it, the more I become convinced that Shin REALLY should undergo therapy and lessons in controlling himself, his anger and his reflexes. And most of all, learning that not everything is ABOUT HIM, that people make decisions not thinking about HIM, and that not everyone around him is his open or hidden enemy, and that sometimes things just turn out that way. At this point, Shin is a person who is not suitable for starting a relationship, because even if Shin and Peach were to reconcile now and start over, the next time things will go not to Shin's liking, he will react exactly the same.

There's also the matter of Shin's malice and his complete lack of qualms about actively hurting Peach. The scene when Peach cries and Shin, instead of coming to his senses, doubles down on his cruelty was very telling. I understand the anger (though honestly, Shin acts like Peach did something really, REALLY bad), but that moment when you look at the person you technically love, and they stand in front of you, heartbroken and in tears, and your heart hardens at that view, instead of going soft, or worse! your heart softens but your pride does not allow you to make a gesture of comfort - because after all this person is suffering - something is very wrong here.

Peach is really unlucky in love 😩 (it must be a really bad karma, Tharn with his thriving romance is a lucky one here lol), Shin is not suitable for a relationship, and Guy, as it turns out, also uses manipulation and ugly tricks to get Peach. Moreover, seeing Peach devastated, Guy doesn't think about him either, he just tries to push his own agenda. Likewise, I can't stand his constant accusation of Shin of "taking everything from him, professionally and personally." Thus, he denies Shin from simply being good at his job, and also denies Peach his own choice. Guy, by snitching on Peach to Shin and creating a conflict between them and accusing Shin of taking Peach away from him (wtf???), really treats Peach as someone without his own mind and free will, capable of making his own, even bad, choices.

That's why I'm shipping Peach with the boss of the other bakery, I think his name is Per, who seems to be the most sensible guy in this series (next to Atom) 😎

I also really like Per's final blow, which is: why is everyone running away from your workplace? Because you can really see the difference in the working atmosphere in both bakeries. I have to ask: if Shin's bakery hadn't made it to the finals, would they also throw a party, as they did at his bakery?

As far as I can tell, there are only, um, three? series about workplace romances this year, that weren't a complete disasters. Bake Me Please is not one of them, regardless of what the finale will show 😀

(the only good, positive relationships in this series are the brothers' relationship and Peach's relationship with his grandmother)

[kaurwreck]

tbh I don't think it's difficult to tell when Dazai is lying. I think Dazai is painfully easy to read; sometimes it's because his sincerity slips out of him like an inadverdant sneeze, but usually it's his defensiveness or his selective timing that outs him.

In that scene in particular, his eyes were "exceedingly still," "his black pupils were absorbing all sound and light," and "nothing could escape his gaze— not even his own emotions." Verlaine flicks a silver coin past Dazai so viciously it roars by Dazai's face and tears through the metal shipping container, and Dazai doesn't even blink. I don't think he's necessarily afraid for himself, but he's fucking terrified. For good reason; this scene was the most delicate test of the strings Dazai was threading around Verlaine to try and manipulate his next immediate actions. One wrong move in this moment, and he could lose any opportunity for control (and thus his opportunity to protect Chuuya's humanity the only way he knows how— by pretending to be (I'm sorry) no longer human).

The honesty of his fear is also telegraphed in the moment when he does actually lie in that scene. His actual lie is evidenced by his momentary wandering eyes, specifically before he says he's bored of the Port Mafia already and "couldn't find anything in the end." Even if the flicker of his otherwise abyssal expression didn't give away that he was lying, we already know that isn't true from Fifteen. Which also lends the motivation for his terror— he did find something (someone), and Verlaine was threatening the foundation of what (who) he found.

Anyway, taken together: yes, he's terrified. He could be honest about his terror with Verlaine because Verlaine wasn't going to believe him; Dazai has manicured that persona to protect himself and, as the exposition indicates in the same scene, he knows others find him unfathomable when he's wearing his blackest gaze. You can tell he isn't lying when he says he's afraid of Verlaine because (i) he's nestled within the comfort of his own externalized darkness, and (ii) he lies moments later, and there's a change in his demeanor that acts as a tell.

Verlaine also announced Dazai was lying about being afraid, but Verlaine is neither reliable nor particularly good at reading others where his own projections make it difficult. And he's especially keen to read malice and hollowness in others. In most narratives, if a character is engaging with his blindspot, it's good practice to not embrace his reading of what's happening as wholly accurate.

And, if none of that was enough to convince me that Dazai is sincerely afraid of Verlaine, then I'd still read him as terrified because I recognize his unflappable stoicism and absorbant black eyes in that scene— it's exactly how my black cat behaves at the vet 🥰

Dazai literally spends most of Stormbringer lying. He lies to Verlaine about wanting Chuuya gone and the mafia dead to betray him. He lies to Adam and Chuuya about wanting to wait for Chuuya to be tortured when he finds out he isnt with Adam already. He lies to Chuuya about looking for his records so he can turn him into his maid. He lies and he lies and he lies. You know who else lies? N. Dazai literally says N is a lying liar who lies and tells Adam he knows Chuuya is human because N said he isnt and N is a liar. And when Adam asks how he is sure N lied Dazai says a good liar lies about his motives with no reason to really lie.

And then Dazai says that he planned everything implying he caused the deaths of the flags and murase and Adam is all "Gasp! You betrayed Chuuya!!" But Chuuya is smart as hell and never once accuses Dazai of that and given how he reacted to Verlaine dropping Lippman's body you'd think Chuuya would gut Dazai like a fish where he stood. But he DIDN'T. Because he knew Dazai was lying. He knows Dazai is a lying liar who lies. And Dazai always lies about his perfect plans going perfectly even when he fucks up cause lord forbid people find out he failed at something he is supposed to be good at. And at the end of the day Dazai projected on N and knew N was a liar because he himself constantly lies about his own self even when he probably shouldn't.

[shorkbrian]

What's Deku like when he gets jealous?

Prelude - This is just an excuse for me to write subby(-ish), angry baby boy with a mommy kink, sorry. Want to put a little reminder here that this is fiction, and it’s depicting a bad relationship

Seriously you guys, I feel like I need to reiterate that a relationship like this isn’t healthy. Your partner should not cling to you 24/7, they should not try and manipulate your feelings. They can communicate their feelings in such a way (Baby, I’m feeling a little lonely right now, would you be up for some cuddling?) that doesn’t force you into rushing to assure them that you still love them because otherwise they’ll have a complete breakdown. I feel like this fic is an example of some unhealthy codependency stuff. I don’t condone this stuff, it’s not good, it’s very unhealthy. 

Pls, pls, if you feel like your relationship might be bordering into something where you feel pressured to cater to your partner in ways you’re uncomfortable with out of fear that they’ll have a breakdown, talk to someone. Anyone. A therapist, a friend, a trusted adult, anyone. This is fiction, and it isn’t healthy, nor good

Pairing - Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, unhealthy relationship, dubcon, co-dependency. 

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/2hfoyc7ve6xM4ZEiNIiU1B?si=w7PXedqHQPqUFPQTDcEYuA

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Needy

When Izuku sees another man talking to his girlfriend (it could be anyone, a store clerk, your coworker, the guy delivering pizza, your brother for christsake) he gets so incredibly needy. 

Pulling at your clothes, whining when you have to leave for work in the morning, clinging to you like a child and refusing to let go.

He makes you late for work sometimes, working himself up when he wakes up in bed to find you getting ready in the bathroom, stumbling to your side and draping his arms around you before begging you not to leave. Acts like a petulant baby while you try to make coffee, grabbing your mug and putting it somewhere out of reach with a frown (if you can’t make coffee, you can’t leave. he knows that’s not how it works but he doesn’t want you to go, Izuku’s willing to try anything to get you to stay), his eyes so hurt and upset when all you do is huff and grab another mug from the cupboard.

Izuku holds you too close when he gets jealous, almost crushing you in his grip when he comes up and hugs you while you’re paying the delivery guy, glaring over your shoulder to make it clear that you’re his. When you’re talking to your brother, Izuku clings to your hand, pulls you into his lap, tries to touch (sometimes inappropriately) so much that you find yourself annoyed with him, batting him away so you can have a conversation with your brother.

And that hurts Izuku even more, feeds the flames of his jealousy until they’re an all-consuming fire of bitterness and insecurity.

The man is sure to swing by your office on his lunch breaks, bringing you your favorite foods to show you how good he is to you, even sitting and eating with you like a good boyfriend. He makes sure to be overly affectionate, holding up his chopsticks to your mouth, cooing at you to open so he can feed you, giving you a peck on this lips after you take a bite. If he finishes his own food before you do, Izuku spends the rest of lunch kissing at your neck, occasionally stopping to rest his head against your shoulder like a sleepy toddler. 

One time, your coworker had passed by the break room, and made eye contact with you while Izuku was trying to suck at your neck with his arms wrapped around your shoulders. It made you blush so hard, and you couldn’t talk to that coworker for at least a week. Obviously, that’s always Izuku’s goal with such overt PDA whenever he stops by your office.

It’s hard not to get short with him, shrug him off or let you irritation show in your voice when you tell him to give you some space. Izuku takes that personally, somehow wiggles himself even closer while pouting and trying to make excuses for why he needs to be in your space.

When you do snap, raising your voice a bit at your boyfriend and telling him you’d like to watch the movie alone, Izuku rears back from your body, eyes wide and breathing hard, as if you’d physically struck him. You don’t feel guilty though, he’s been hounding you all week, never giving you room to breathe, initiating sex every single night just so you can feed his craving for your touch.

He leaves the bedroom, sulks off to the living room with his tail between his legs, letting you finally take a breath.

You only finish an episode or two before his back, clutching at his sleeves, tears in his eyes, sniffling and looking so small. He’s past 6′, a full grown man, and yet he’s shrinking in on himself so much that he looks far shorter than you.

“Are you mad at me?” 

And of course you aren’t, not really. But you’re a full grown adult, and it’s not healthy for Izuku to be so dependent on you, so clingy and needy and possessive.

“I’m not mad Izuku, I just wanted some space.” You sigh.

“You’re ignoring me.” And his tears hit full force, bubbling over and running down his cheeks, and your heart drops.

He’s manipulating you, always does. You’re not stupid, you know this isn’t a good relationship - Izuku’s dependent and jealous of anyone who isn’t him, and you enable that behavior, don’t do enough to curb it. But he’s a full grown man, you aren’t his mom. 

Izuku doesn’t agree.

“’M sorry mommy, I just want to be close to you... please don’t make me leave.” And he looks so pathetic, so desolate standing there in the doorway, cheeks wet and red from crying.

A beat passes while you war with yourself.

But you can’t ever seem to uphold your own boundaries.

“C’mere, it’s okay.”

And he’s by your side in a flash, climbing onto the bed, face-planting into your chest, his hands desperately petting at your neck and hair as if he’s trying to soothe himself. It’s an awkward position, but it’s one that he’s comfortable with. you know trying to encourage him to put his face anywhere else would result in a giant fit.

He’s crying heavily, tears soaking your shirt, mumbling about how he’s sorry, how he needs you, how you’re making him sad and feel so unloved.

You feel a little bit guilty, even though you know you shouldn’t 

Stroking his hair, you making shushing sounds, trying to calm him. “Shhh shhh shh, it’s okay Izu. I love you, you’re okay.”

“But I’m not!” He cries, head lifting, fixing you with a pouty glare. His eyes are puffy and red, he’s biting his lip, and he looks like a man again, angry at you. “You’re getting tired of me and you don’t want to date me anymore.” Izuku’s lip wobbles, and then he’s burying his face back into your chest unhappily.

“Izu... no baby...” You start. “I love you so much, I’m not breaking up with you.”

Although, maybe you should. 

The man shakes his head, and you want to huff at his childish display, but you know he’s sensitive, know he’s a bit more emotional than most, always has been.

“You don’t love me. You keep talking to other guys, and you won’t spend time with me anymore. You don’t even want to have sex with me, I know you don’t, I can tell.” He accuses.

That’s not the truth at all, and part of you knows it. He’s good at fucking you, knows how to play your body like the most treasured instrument. Izuku’s so enthusiastic, so eager to please, going down on you with determination to make you writhe and scream on his tongue. When you pull him away, he’s blushing, panting, almost dizzy from the rush of making you cum.. 

“Tell me it feels good. Did I do it right? Did I make you cum?” and you’re nodding your head, pussy still pulsing lazily from the aftershocks.

He always grinds himself against the bed, and it must feel good because by the time he pushes inside, he’s barely able to stop himself from cumming at the oversensitive squeeze of your cunt.

But he always makes sure to make you cum one last time before he finds his own release.

And it’s not true that you won’t spend time with him, or that you’re always talking to other guys. You hardly talk to anyone anymore, Izuku even finding problems with your female friends (”They aren’t good for you, I bet they’re talking about you behind your back. I mean, look how easily they talk about that one girl when she's not hanging out with you all.”)

“Izuku, you’re being a dumb baby, get up here.” Sometimes the only way to shut up his insecurities is to take control, so you do. Tugging on his hair until he pushes upward, you find his mouth, kissing him deep.

When you pull away, eyes closed, lips warm from how intently Izuku kissed you back, you can feel your boyfriend hovering, mere inches away from your face.

“Show me you love me. I want.... I want you to show me mommy. Make me feel loved, please?”

Ah, so that’s how he wants you.

When he gets angry, upset with you, Izuku resorts to name calling. not the vicious, cruel, bullying kind. No, he calls you mommy, expects you to take care of him, make him feel good and shower him in love ‘til he cries, until he doesn’t have to doubt you.

You always do whenever he calls you mommy. There’s an underlying threat whenever he insists on the dynamic, a simmering malice that you can barely pick up on. A little bit of you is... almost afraid. But if you’re quick to adapt to the role he wants you to play, as you always are, nothing comes of that hint of hostility hiding beneath his cry-baby cover-up.

“Turn over then baby.” You tell him, pushing at his chest.

He does so easily, watching with wide eyes as you rise to your knees, beginning to strip seductively, starting with your shirt.

“Keep your eyes on mommy, want you to watch.”

“Okay.” He breathes, a hand falling to his crotch, squeezing at the quickly-developing bulge there.

You allow it for now, more focused on swinging your hips, bringing your shirt over your head sexily, letting it mess up your hair as you tug it off before throwing it off the bed. 

Shimmying your bottoms down, you leave your panties on, shifting to lean against one hip to pull your bottoms the rest of the way off, pointing your toes as you bring them past your feet.

Izuku’s eyes follow the garment, before flicking back to your panties.

They’re nothing special, just simple cotton underwear that keeps you covered, but Izuku thinks you look hot in everything, anything.

“Mommy... want you bad. ‘M hard, please-please fix it.” He whines, bucking his hips up into his hand.

You swat at his hand, and he yelps a little before looking at you with confusion.

“No touching, only mommy gets to do that.”

Izuku nods so quickly his neck pops, which makes you smile a bit. When he’s not being needy or clingy, he’s cute. It’s what drew you to him in the first place, what reeled you in.

You start by running a hand over his clothed chest, dragging fingertips over his nipples, watching as your boyfriend puts his hands above his head and lays back, eyes fixed on you.

Hands hook around the waistband of his sweatpants, beginning to slowly drag them off his body. You press them down hard over his bulge, and your boyfriend stutters out a breath.

His shirt gets pushed up to his face, where you hold it above his mouth.

“Open up baby boy.”

He opens his mouth, and you stuff the hem in, telling him to bite down. He does.

You duck down a bit to lick at his chest, laving over his nipples with the flat of your tongue just to feel the man jump a little, arching his back to press his chest further into your mouth.

But you were only here to tease, so you pulled away , running a hand down his abdomen so you could trace a finger up his hard cock.

It was easy to get him worked up, tapping two fingers against his shaft, lightly giving his balls a squeeze, scratching at his thighs with your nails.

Izuku was getting his shirt wet, whining around the fabric, bucking his hips into you touch, trying to entice you to stroke his entire shaft instead of teasing.

You quickly put a stop to that with a hand pressing down against his hipbone, pinching the skin there to make it clear that you didn’t want him to move.

Teasing a bit more, you leaned down, blowing cool air across the tip of his cock to watch the man jump, eyes flying open at the sensation. When you did it again, following the movement with attaching your mouth around the head and suckling, Izuku’s eyes rolled back in his head, toes curling.

He was moaning behind his shirt, trying to say something, but you were too preoccupied with digging your tongue into the slit, slurping at his cock like it was a piece of candy.

Your hand finally closed around his length, giving him a light, quick stroke before letting go, popping your mouth off his cock to lick at the sides, closing your mouth over the tender, barely-there veins and giving them a quick suck.

Izuku choked out a loud moan, and you looked up to find him staring at you, pupils dilated, breathing hard through his nose.

He was wanting you to hurry up.

Even though you were supposed to be in charge right now, Izuku still held the power.

You gripped his shaft again, rubbing the velvety skin between your fingers and palm, before slowly beginning to jerk him off. It was too dry, too rough though, and you know Izuku wasn't fond of that, so you stopped a moment to gather spit in your mouth.

“Izu, watch baby.” You told him, making sure he was looking down at you before you opened your mouth, letting your saliva slowly drool out and onto his cock.

The man looked like he was going to burst.

You did that a couple more times, telling your boyfriend to watch each time.

Now thoroughly wet, you gripped him tight again, resuming your leisurely pace.

“Izu baby, if you want to cum you gotta ask.” You say gently, hand speeding up around his length.

Izuku groans, throwing his head back onto the pillows, letting the wet hem of his shirt fall from his mouth. “Can I... can I cum mommy? Please? I-I need to cum.”

You stay quiet, wanting to push him a little more, hand barely moving around his cock, but your grip tight and slick.

His face is all red now, the tears from earlier dry on his cheeks. “Oh mommy, please let me cum, you feel so good. ‘M so clo-se! Please, please-”

Twisting your hand around the tip before letting go, you watch his cock bob, twitching, so red and hot. The veins on the underside are pulsing, Izuku’s balls drawing up, his stomach tensing as he struggle to hold back, struggles to be a good boy.

You know he loves this - loves when you make him wait, when you make him beg.

“You don’t sound like you really want it ‘Zuzu, I don’t know if I should let you.” You’d learned over time what he wanted when he got like this, what you were supposed to do to make him happy.

Izuku wanted you to be a bit mean, to tease and tease and not let him cum.

He let out a wail, squirming against the sheets, hands still obediently above his head, although they opened and closed shakily as if he wanted to grab onto something, probably you.

“No, ohhh, mommy I do, I want it s’bad!

Shaking your head makes Izuku whine, his hips thrusting into the air desperately before they stilled.

“Please... You make me feel so-so good mommy. I love you so much. just wanna cum...”

And his voice sounds so broken, all raspy and breathless, so you relent.

You strip his cock hard and fast, the wet sound of your hand around his length clicking around the room as Izuku almost screams at the sudden stimulation.

He jerks against the bed, thrusts up into your hand, you watch his abdomen ripple and his thighs tense and-

You let go of his cock right as he starts to cum, and Izuku lets out a wounded cry. His hands fly to his aching cock to rub himself through his orgasm, ease the tingling and the throbbing as his cock jerks, but you’re faster. His wrists are grabbed, and you pull them to your chest, ignoring the eyes looking at you pleadingly. Your own eyes are focused on his cock, globs of cum oozing out of the tip, running down the sides, his cock twitching and moving as if it had a life of it’s own.

“MOmmy no!” The man cries, but it’s useless now, his orgasm’s already been ruined.

“Shh ‘Zuzu, you’re okay. Mommy loves you.” You soothe, moving to his side so you can give him an awkward hug, his hands flying to clutch at you as soon as you let go of them/

“Mm, love you, love you mommy. Love you so much.” He sniffs, his hands pulling you to him so tight that you almost lose your balance.

You give him a pat on the shoulder, before trying to pull away, stopped by his firm grip. “Baby, let mommy go so I can take care of you.”

The man sniffs once more, pressing himself to you tightly with a wet kiss to your neck before relenting, letting you sit up.

A timid smile graced your lips as you shuffled down again, attention back on his cock. 

It was even wetter now, cum barely dribbling out the tip, some of it on your boyfriend’s lower tummy, some of it slipping to his balls. His legs were spread, and you’d be surprised if some of the whiteish liquid hadn’t dripped down his taint.

Gently, you started rubbing his thighs, soft little circles meant to soothe and calm. 

You spent a fair amount of time doing that, ten minutes, fifteen, then twenty, laying your head on Izuku’s knee as you lost yourself to the mechanical movement.

But then his leg jerked, shaking you to the present and out of your thoughts.

His cock was hard again.

He was looking down at you with big, expectant eyes, watching your every move like a cat watching a mouse. You were supposed to be in charge, but you never truly felt like it. 

“Pretty boy... you’re so pretty, know that?” You cooed, reaching up to start sliding your hand along his length, the texture slick and somewhat sticky.

Izuku moaned. “Not-not as pretty as mommy... You’re the prettiest. Love you...” He trailed off, obviously wanting you to say it back.

“I love you too Izuku.” And then it was back to teasing, rubbing at his cock before gripping him tightly, squeezing at the base, playing with his balls, fondling the soft skin.

He was getting impatient.

“Mommy, I wanna fuck you.” Izuku whined, his eyes tearing up, already shuffling so he could sit up.

You were tired, but you figured that he might as well. Telling him no might lead to a big fight, and you’d be back where you started, Izuku accusing you of the unforgivable offense of no longer loving him.

Nodding, you let go of his cock.

Within seconds, you were on your back, your boyfriend pushing and pulling at your limbs until they were where he wanted them.

“Oh, look at mommy, look at this.” the man sighed, pulling your panties to the side to reveal your slit, already glistening. “All for me, right? Just me?”

“Mm-hm.” You reassured him, jolting a bit as his fingers started to slide against your folds, before rushing to dip one inside.

He was often too eager with this stage, wanting to fuck you now. But you endured, wincing a bit at the slight sting as he began pushing in and out, dipping down to mouth at your neck.

Green curls tickled your skin, and you latched onto them, tugging a bit when he pushed another finger inside, impatient.

“Sorry, I just-just wanna feel-wanna fuck you, you’re.... I love you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from telling you every other second, adding a third finger, scissoring them inside you a bit too fast for it to be comfortable.

But then they were gone, and he was lining himself up.

“Be gentle-be gentle-!” You cautioned, words cut off with a small gasp as he pushed inside, only half listening.

He was average, definitely not the biggest you’d ever taken, but thick enough to have your eyes fluttering shut with each rock of his hips against your body. 

You still had your hands buried in his curls, Izuku lifting his head so he could kiss you on the mouth, wet and warm and hungry for every ounce of affection he could pull from you.

It didn’t take long for him to find his rhythm, thankfully not hammering into you, just thrusting quick and short, barely pulling out before seating himself balls deep again.

And it took even less time for him to start moaning about his impending release.

“Mommy, fuck, you feel amazing, I’m so close.”

You were on the pill, but Izuku knew how much you didn’t like him cumming inside. It felt weird, and you hated the cleanup, and it was just a general mess you’d rather avoid.

“Izu...oh pull-pull out baby, don’t cum inside mommy.”

His eyes fix you with a stern glare, as stern as he can manage after being teased and having his orgasm ruined and teased again until he cried. But then he softened, burying his face into your neck, whining quietly.

“No, no, nuh-uh mommy-y, wanna-wanna cum inside. I wanna cum inside mommy, I’m-I’m gonna cum inside mommy.”

His thrusts faltered, becoming jerky and quick and entirely focused on his own pleasure as little moans and gasps punched out of his throat. “Wanna cum, wanna cum, wanna cum-!” He cried, humping against you like an inexperienced virgin.

His load gushed into you like a flood, and you barely thought to wince before you were bumming yourself, limbs twitching erratically as you rode out the waves burning through your body.

It takes you a few minutes to come down, Izuku’s bigger body draped across your form as he tried to even out his breathing, gulping in air as if he’d just finished a marathon.

You felt irritated at him, that he had cum inside, at how he always bulldozed past what you wanted. 

A small part of you knew that this wasn’t.... it wasn’t okay. He was breaking your boundaries, and the unending reliance and worship made it hard for you to tell him no.

It felt good though, having someone tell you that you’re the reason that they woke up every morning. That they couldn’t live without you, how you were their everything, their one and only. He lifted you up, praised you and made you feel wanted and needed.

Your relationship was a pot of water being brought to a boil. You knew it was happening, you knew it wasn’t good, but the water felt warm. The sting of it’s heat was welcome for now, even though you knew that it would end in nothing good.

Even if you wanted to get out, how would you? Izuku kept such a tight grip on you, even now, his arms holding you close, his bodyweight crushing you.

He was just so needy.

And you were willing to give.

[danddymaro]

Playing with fire | Loki x Reader

Includes Enhanced Reader W/ fire manipulation, and a temper.

Basically Loki Being an Ass

Word Count : 2393

Playing with Fire

She smiled with satisfaction as she continued to clean the counter in small circles, the little powder blue rag leaving the surface with a nice shine that filled her with pride.

All the while, sweet, soft hums of happiness left her as she saw the lovely surface slowly bouncing the sight of what seemed like her reflection.

“You’ve certainly outdone yourself this time (f/n),” she said lowly, grinning at her work with fulfillment, executing joy-filled little claps as a mild cheer that lasted only a few seconds before she went back to work.

Tony walked past the doorway but whirled around as he caught sight of her, tisking at the sight, because, 

how many times has he told her now?

“- I told you, you don't have to do that,” He said with exasperation, pouting down at her as he coolly walked over to her, “ You don't have to pick up a finger here.” He continued, making himself comfortable by leaning his elbows onto the counter, looking at her with tired dark eyes throughout the entire time,

“In fact, even the toile-”

She stopped him by lifting up her hand in a halt sign, the other maintaining the same circular motion,

“I want to,” she said simply, looking over to him with a soft smile that was filled with peace. “It makes me happy,” she added with pleading (e/c) eyes, hoping he’d drop the argument.

“It brings me peace, so please... drop it?” she asked him, giving him the same sweet, begging eyes.

Rolling own his eyes, Stark shrugged, a heavy sigh accompanying the action, “I guess,” He mumbled, displeased nonetheless.

“If you continued to do it after the first few times, I don't know why I keep trying to convince you otherwise,” he added, a halfhearted glare directed at her, “Just don’t overwork yourself,” he pleaded her.

“ - I feel bad enough having you slaving around her,” he murmured with a sheepish upturn of his mouth.

Granted, he appreciated how tenderly she treated their home, but it was to the extent that he felt guilty, almost like he was taking advantage of her.

“Slaving?” she said with a quirked brow, “You have your drinking, and I have my cleaning… yet I’m the one in the wrong?” she said back to him, chuckling all while she shook her head, giggling even more as she saw his expression change at her words, a toothy grin etched onto his face as his eyes were squinted playfully,

“Really Red Hot?” He snickered, watching as she rolled her eyes at the address.

He opened his mouth to speak more when another voice cut through their merriment,

“Ah, Servant Girl,” Loki called out, beckoning the woman to go to him with a lift of his finger, causing her to instantly drop her happy, little expression down south,

“Servant...girl...?” she lowly, all while shooting the man a quick look that dared him to repeat the phrase.

“Yes. servant girl," The long-haired male said in a snobbish manner, “ Did I not just call you?” He questioned her, and by then the little rag in her hand combusted.

‘What is with this guy?’ She wondered while irked.

A seething hot glare was shot directly at the dark-haired prince as she destroyed her little rag, and it gave her all the more reason to be angry.

“Oh no, “ stark muttered, quickly placing a hand to her shoulder, directing her attention from Loki’s lasting gaze and turning her over to him instead,

“ he’s not worth blowing your cap off, just relax,” he advised feeling a cold sweat running down his forehead as his palms that had landed over her shoulders began to grow warmer, indicating that her temperature was rising.

He could feel her body begin to increase in heat, and he had to act fast, taking her mind off of the annoyance that triggered her,

“You don't want to ruin this pretty kitchen do you?” he asked anxiously, sweeping his arm to offer her the grand view of the luxury space.

“Besides...I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.” He further explained, hoping that it was the case, but not entirely too certain about it because after all, it was Loki.

-The same Loki that had in the past bated the Hulk out of Banner.

It was then that her ( e/c) eyes swept left and right to the little place she had dubbed her ‘safe space’ and after a good moment of reflection, she closed her eyes tightly, her harsh pants coming down to mellowing breathes that were both inhaled and exhaled through her nostrils.

“There we go, “ Tony said smiling with relief.

She gritted her teeth, “Okay...I’m fine..” She told him, soon releasing a low breath that seemed to make her deflate, her tense muscles with the blow of air.

“You sure?” he asked her, uncertain.

“Yeah,” She responded back with a lax voice, a slow smile beginning to pave way onto her face, “Sorry about that, “ She said sheepishly, her face glowing as she’d calmed to a state where she was easier to reason with.

‘Gotta be nice,’ She told herself. ‘Technically he’s a guest. One who’s not from here,’ She reasoned.

She then turned back to the prince, the same sweet expression present as she approached him, truly hoping he didn’t get the wrong impression of her.

‘I’m not a horrible person, you have to believe me,’ She thought to herself, ‘It’s just...sometimes...I’m too passionate.’ She went on.

‘I’m really sorry,’ She added while releasing a calmed breath, ‘You didn’t know any better,’ She mused, ‘I don’t know what got over me.’ 

“I’m so sorry about that,” She said with humility, nearly close to bowing her head in shame with how embarrassed she was.

“I’m (f/n) (l/n),” She introduced herself, her weary smile easing into a true, amiable grin.

 She then extended her hand out to him, kindly offering it,

“ I’m a part of the A-”

“- Avengers,” He finished for her, “Yes, I know,” He said while grinning at her, the words falling onto her and causing her to freeze, numbness soon overwhelming her as he took her hand.

‘He knows…’ She thought to herself, ‘Which means,’ She then droned on,

 ‘Which means he PURPOSELY called me that,’ She went on, the gears of her brain working at max capacity, coming to the conclusion in a manner of seconds.

 All while her face began to twitch with annoyance, she could see him slowly form a grin of amusement, one she took in with insult,

‘He thinks he’s so cute…’ She went on, soon glaring at him, ‘What’s his damn problem?!’ She added, hearing him chuckle, the sound of his velvety voice producing such an aggravating, yet warm sound that it frazzled her.

‘He’s doing this on purpose,’ She concluded, watching as every twitch of her face made his eyes glow furthermore, the gems married with amusement.

‘He’s trying to… to,’ stopping herself she bit her tongue, not knowing what his true aim was,  

‘What the hell is he even trying to do, get on my damn nerves?!’ She wondered with dismay.

‘So, You think it’s that easy huh?

You think I’m just some hotheaded punk that can’t stay fucking...uuugggggghhhhhhhh!’ She inwardly shrieked, fighting against the nature she assumed he wanted to become a spectator of.

‘I want to just wipe that stupid grin off his face!’ She thought with malice, ‘But if I do, the pretty boy wins,‘ She contemplated, her mind viscously jumbled, and throughout it all, much to her pleasure, she managed to hold herself steady, not letting the fiery strength take over.

“I hope I get to see more of you!” She chirped back, shoving out the words, subconsciously squeezing his hand.

‘- No I don’t,’ She inwardly added, wanting to wring his neck instead.

“I just know we’ll get along,” She then added with the same glee.

‘- I want you acres from me,’ She maundered darkly.

At the first elated peep, Loki’s brows rose, a chuckle escaping him as he eyed the saccharine smile that was in stark contrast to her vicious (e/c) colored eyes that clearly showed disdain, and it only gave him more reason to fuel her flame.

“(f/n) (l/n),” He then said, taking her warm hand in his before laying a little kiss to her first knuckle,

“A pleasure,“ He told her, enjoying the way her face morphed into complete, and utter shock that left her doe-eyed.

She was then left blubbering, her brain nearly fried by the simple action, not knowing how to take it,

‘Wh-who does he… think he is?’ she asked herself, unsure of just how to feel.

‘No one’s ever done that before,’ She thought to herself, ‘But that doesn’t mean i enjoyed it,’ She then added.

‘I just got caught off guard!’ She reasoned.

Tony chuckled lowly, having only seen the other man’s face throughout the entire exchange in greetings, completely missing her annoyed tick as well as her withheld aggression, only catching sight of the glowing enjoyment in the other man's eyes.

“I hope to see more of you,” Loki then added, withdrawing, and leaving her stunned.

‘Why...Why did he even want me in the first place?’ She asked herself, unsure of what had even transpired between them.

“- Looks like Reindeer Games likes you,” Tony then mused aloud, and it did nothing to help her.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The man alternated between bitter and sweet. 

He was charming even when he was a nuisance, and she detested the way he easily tweaked her. 

Anything he did was sure to make heat rise within her, from his annoying pestering that brought her close to combustion, to the sweet, charming second nature that made her face glow.

He pushed her on edge in more ways than one, and it made it all the more frustrating when he went out of his way to bother her, because sometimes she wanted to choke him, and other times,

‘Other times… I just want to...to do things with you that I don't even understand,’ She thought helplessly, having never felt so bothered by another being.

She was grateful to have learned how to properly control her powers to the degree that most of what he threw at her was shot back with sweetness,

‘Kill ‘em with kindness,’ That was the motto that, and until then, she’d followed to a T. 

But, everything had its breaking point, and as the second month rolled by she found hers,

“ Call me servant girl again you little shit,” She sneered, holding up a tightened fist before him, the little ball shaking with the furiousness she felt.

“ Oh? and what will you do, if I do ... little, servant girl?” he said snickering, nearing her with a confident strut, “Are you going to strike me?” He said while grinning, his two hands held behind his back as he leaned towards her, extending his jaw out subtly, all in a manner that dared her to do so,

“ Because I’d just love to see you try,” he said lowly, challenging her, his emerald eyes glowing as he looked down at her.

 Her already accelerated heart jumped at the glance, forcing a gasp out of her, one she was aware he found amusement in by the sly way he continued to tease her.

Her lips then twitched upwards, not in a show of amusement, but instead a nagging annoyance before she swung at him, which, of course, went straight through him.

“My...You're quite hot-headed,” he said while observing her, making her whip around to him with eyes that glowed just as fiercely as his did,

‘ Hot-headed…

Hot-head…’

She repeated the name over and over, detesting it.

The little nickname made her insides bubble, and as she dwelled in the nickname her body erupted into a heap of flames,

“I AM NOT HOTI-HEADED, IM CALM AND SERENE AND A FRUCKING DELIGHT!”

She screeched, launching herself towards him.

“- All of that foul language.." he muttered, his left hand capturing her wrist in a strong grip, soon pulling her to him before he spun her, forcing her back to his chest.

His right hand then gripped her lower jaw, holding it in a manner that made her lips pucker,

“Such a pretty mouth, and yet such ugly words,” he said amused, releasing the same sweet chuckle that made her insides bubble.

“- I hate you so much,” she said lowly, squirming all the while.

It was rare to be captured, much more, held down by someone else while in her current state, and while it scathed her, it touched her in a way that was indescribable,

‘Do you know how many people have run from me?’ She silently asked him, wondering just why he played with her so much, when she could lose control at any moment.

‘Do you know how many people I’ve hurt?’ She then added, shrinking with a touch of sadness at the remembrance, because she never forgot.

‘Because I’m this way…

Because no matter what I do… I always end up burning…’

“I hate you… so much,” She said in a weaker voice, wearing a small smile that held just a touch of fondness,

‘I hate you for being able to handle me...even at my worst.

I hate you for making me feel so small and weak next to you.

I hate always thinking about you.’

A low, sweet chuckle left him, and during then he wore a teasing little smirk she couldn't see, but could vividly imagine, because she had it ingrained in her mind.

“Ah…” He breathed, “ A shame…,” He murmured, “I love to play with your flame.” He admitted. 

“Your heat...” he then uttered, before falling into silence. His hold and presence disappeared all at once, leaving her wide-eyed and surprised, her face burning with embarrassment.

She whipped around, spinning like a curious dog chasing its tail, her eyes searching for the man with wide-eyed innocence.

“I just can’t stand him, “ She murmured, fuming, by then having been subdued into a less agitated state.

‘Because I can’t think of anything but him.

I want him to play with me as much as he wants, shape me in every way I can be molded.

Loki...why are you so unbearable....so unforgettable?’

[the-odinson]

Thor 🗲 Intro

“Fortunately, I am mighty...”

OOC PORTION —

NAME: Danny

PRONOUNS: he/him

AGE: 23

TIMEZONE: GMT +1

TRIGGERS: None

IC PORTION; BASICS —

CHARACTER NAME: Thor Odinson

FACECLAIM: Chris Hemsworth

AFFILIATIONS: The Avengers

AGE: 1500s/appears mid 30s

SPECIES: Alien (Asgardian)

IDENTITY: Public

DOES YOUR CHARACTER LIVE IN THE MOUSEHOLE? IF SO, WHAT ARE THEIR DUTIES? Yes, but he doesn’t particularly like it there. He doesn’t feel the effects of the cold, but Thor has never liked being confined so prefers to get outside as much as possible. Thor has decided to take on the role of a hunter/gatherer. The vast forests of Europe aren’t too dissimilar to the Asgardian wilderness and, while the beasts aren’t as ferocious as back home, what’s a king to do if not revel in the hunt? When needed he will also help with aid work: he can cover great distances with ease and carrying heavy loads is hardly a problem for him.

DESCRIBE SIX TRAITS (3 positive, 3 negative) YOUR CHARACTER HAS AND HOW THESE AFFECT THEM:

Dependable: A man of his word, Thor is trustworthy and reliable; an asset in any team and to anyone who has a favour to ask. Endearing: Those who truly get to know Thor speak of him with admiration; his warm smile and welcoming personality don’t come to all, but if he lets his guard down you’re guaranteed a friend with whom you feel truly comfortable. Benevolent: Thor (usually) means well and (usually) tries to be kind to anyone he encounters. His exterior may come across as brash but there’s no malice involved, often just a difference in culture and upbringing. Obstinate: While being headstrong may not always be a negative thing, Thor hates to admit he’s wrong and has a tendency to steamroll down a chosen path rarely reassessing whether the choices he made were the right ones or simply the first ones. Distrusting: Thor enjoys being social but mainly around those he’s close to. He can appear a little hostile to strangers: while he wants to believe in the good in people, he’s been around long enough and seen a lot of the universe to know of the potential darkness inside them too. Reckless: Thor often acts on impulse and charges into situations unprepared. This can lead to serious damage caused to both himself and those around him.

POWERS AND/OR ABILITIES: Super strength: Son of Odin and King of Asgard, Thor is physically the strongest of all Asgardians, with feats including being able to go one-on-one with the Hulk and other powerful entities. Flight: Thor’s magical axe Stormbreaker grants him the ability to fly. Electricity Manipulation: Thor is capable of generating electrical energy within his body and can expel it in the form of lightning bolts. Using Stormbreaker makes the energy generation and expulsion much more powerful and efficient. Weather Control: Similarly, either with or without Stormbreaker (although with Stormbreaker is easier), Thor can control the sky and create storms. Durability: His Asgardian physiology grants much more durability than a human one, able to shrug off energy blasts and recover from injury much quicker. Thor can also survive in space and alien atmospheres. Allspeak: Also called the All-Tongue, Asgardians speak a magic-based language, granting the ability to understand and be understood in all the languages of the Nine Realms. Bifrost: Stormbreaker also gifts Thor the power to summon the Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge connecting all realms, allowing intergalactic travel between worlds in a matter of moments.

WEAKNESSES: There aren’t many things on Earth that could pose a threat to Thor, so it’s hard to pinpoint any specific weaknesses. Perhaps for someone like Thor, the word god comes up so often that he sometimes forgets it’s not true: he is mortal and, while far more durable than a human, he can get injured and he can get killed, a fact that he often brushes to the side when charging into battle. However he has become far more self-aware after losing an eye (and almost his life) to Hela.

IC PORTION; DETAILS —

WHAT BROUGHT YOUR CHARACTER TO SOKOVIA?

Sokovia is where the majority of Thor’s allies are, and he needs their help. His world gone, his people stranded on the nearest hospitable realm in need of a home; Thor knew of a place where the Asgardians could blend in and live peaceful lives. The problem is, however, it seems Earth is not quite at peace right now. When he couldn’t track down the Avengers in New York, he followed the trail to Novi Grad. His priorities are conflicting: while he came back to Earth to ask the Avengers’ help in establishing a new Asgard on this planet, he feels he should stay to try and help his friends however he can in aiding the Nomad’s cause.

DID THEY SIGN THE ACCORDS? WHY OR WHY NOT?

No - the whole Accords situation is mostly unbeknownst to Thor due to being offworld at the time of signing. From what he can gather, it isn’t something that would appeal to him. He feels the affairs of humans are mostly petty ones and, despite his growing acclimatisation to Earth and its customs, he doesn’t understand why humans have to be so divided about, well, pretty much everything.

PROVIDE 3-5 HEADCANONS RELATED TO YOUR CHARACTER: 1. Although Thor is an alien, he has spent enough time on this planet (in both modern and ancient times) for the culture shock to lessen so that now Earth to Thor is more comparable to a human travelling to a different country - he acknowledges that the differences are neither better nor worse and he chooses to respect them. He knows he will make mistakes and appear strange, but sees that now as an opportunity for personal growth. 2. One thing he doubts he will ever understand however, is the human version of ‘entertainment’. Thor cannot stand movies. On Asgard, they would entertain themselves by slaying fearsome monsters or engaging in a friendly drunken brawl, the more broken furniture the better! But on Earth they amuse themselves by… sitting down and staring at a screen for hours on end. While both Asgard and Earth had/have magnificent technology, it’s clear they used it very differently.

3. Since returning to Earth, Thor has become intrigued in the Norse tales of himself and his people from over a thousand years ago and their alleged feats. He finds it highly amusing how inaccurate the stories are, but it has led to a fascination of human mythology and the various pantheons across history and the world. He wonders if he will ever meet any other of these so-called gods.

4. While a human brain only has capacity for almost a century’s worth of memories, an Asgardian brain is built for a few millennia’s worth. Therefore Thor has a much more acute long-term memory than his human companions, although occasionally his short-term memory leaves something to be desired, especially after several pints of mead.

WANTED CHARACTER CONNECTIONS: 

Loki: His brother and the person he loves (and hates) most in the cosmos. I know a thing or two about brotherly love (I’ve been experiencing it for 23 years) so would love to write for Thor with his undeniably most personal connection. Wonder Woman: Both ancient, both ‘gods’ and both so very far from home. Despite their different allegiances I think it would be great to have Thor bond with perhaps the one person around here who may truly understand him. Superman: If anything they both have fabulous red capes. They are quite similar power-wise, although I know Superman is stronger but Thor definitely wouldn’t want to admit that. It could lead to some healthy (or unhealthy?) competition between the two, especially seeing as Thor isn’t too fond of the Justice League. Captain America & Iron Man: The two splintered team leaders. Thor respects them both (Tony a little less, perhaps…) and, since he doesn’t really understand the extent of the accords, would like to hear their sides of the story and what has happened since the Ultron incident. Bruce Banner: Thor has fought with the Hulk a couple of times but feels this has brought the two closer, learning more about how Bruce ticks and now he feels there’s a protective bond between the pair. I think the interactions they have could bring out the comedic style of writing which I love!

POTENTIAL CHARACTER ARCS: In the previous paragraph I said I like writing comedic characters (of which Thor fits the bill) but I also want to explore the deeper aspects of his personality such as the emotional pain of losing his parents, his childhood friends and his home. This could manifest in him not wanting to form bonds with others in the Mousehole at first because he’s lost so many people: why would he want to get close with anyone else only to lose them again? Perhaps a dramatic fallout with someone from a different team could lead to serious consequences for him or the team as a whole.

The reason I chose for placing Thor in Sokovia is that he’s seeking a location for New Asgard: maybe with all its emigrating population and empty buildings Sokovia could be the perfect location… I’m not sure how it would work in the group, but maybe Thor could eventually bring the Asgardians here, both to settle and to help with the restoration of the country.

CHARACTER BIO —

You know the story. An Asgardian prince, lacking in humility and exiled to Earth in order to learn what it means to be worthy. A classic tale, but at its heart, a tale of loss, and a tale of what it means to truly be human: even if you’re not. Thor has lived for well over a millenia, but only in the last decade has his life really begun. From landing on Earth a long time after people stopped worshipping him, he slowly began to understand the importance of relationships; from forming close bonds with the Avengers (and wary acquaintances with the Justice League and X-Men), to experiencing true love for the very first time. All his life Thor had assumed that humans were lesser beings, so why then did he feel he was learning so much more from them than he had ever learned from his own kind? 

After experiencing the death of his mother, then later on his father and three close childhood friends, Thor was at breaking point when his home realm of Asgard was obliterated during Ragnarök by the fire demon Surtur. With the title of King thrust upon him, Thor decided his duty to his people had to consume him before his emotions did. Pursuing the quest of a new home, he led them to Nidavellir, the homeworld of the dwarfs; unsurpassable smiths and mechanics with the power to forge almost anything the mind can dream of, ruled over by their King, Eitri. Eons ago, Eitri had forged the legendary hammer Mjölnir (destroyed by Hela) at Odin’s request, now he oversaw the creation of the glorious axe Stormbreaker when asked by Thor, capable of summoning the rainbow bridge despite its apparent destruction on Asgard. Armed with his new tool and a promise to the Asgardians of a brighter future, Thor set out alone across the stars, heading to Midgard to find his old allies the Avengers. He’d helped the humans many times before, hopefully they’ll be able to help him and his race this time. 

It took Thor losing everything to appreciate what he has. As he enters the next phase of his life in Sokovia, without family or a home, he is truly the definition of a nomad.

[rutilation]

Listen, they’re not evil. They just lack empathy, and go into a dissociative state and commit atrocities.

As much as it pains me to do so, I’m going to start off by talking about the bastard himself.  I must say, believing that rage and misery is the inevitable endpoint of a person’s life is an awfully convenient belief for Aechmea to hold when his plan would end all sentient life as collateral damage. If all your victims are better off dead anyway, then your actions don’t warrant any guilt!

There’s a little moment in chapter 67 that has always stuck out to me as being representative of Aechmea’s character, and I think it’s especially relevant to this chapter. It’s the part in which Cairngorm is trying to argue that it’s in Aechmea’s best interest to keep Phos as mentally stable as possible since they’re his staunchest ally amongst the gems. My reaction upon reading that line was that their appraisal of Aechmea’s intentions was very naïve.  To the contrary, the more unstable Phos becomes, the easier it is for Aechmea to manipulate them.  At this point in the narrative, Phos is no longer carefully treading through negotiations with Aechmea, as they were in volume eight and the beginning of volume nine; they’re now doing exactly what he wants, with gusto, and no thought to the long term consequences.  This is entirely deliberate on Aechmea’s part, and indeed, in the very same chapter that Cairngorm brought this up, Aechmea pulled the same trick on them.  He made Cairn feel cornered and desperate, presented himself as the sole solution to their problem, and thus Cairn went from being deeply suspicious of Aechmea to…still being deeply suspicious of Aechmea, tbh, but burying it under an ironclad sense of denial.  This chapter even contains a callback to chapter 67:  Both here and there, Phos/Cairn is broken and despondent, Aechmea is looming over them, and they reach out to weakly cling to his hand.

He asks Barbata to “handle” Phos’s memories of the past two hundred years.  That’s an ambiguous line if I’ve ever heard one.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but Phos shouldn’t have memories of the past two hundred years, right?  I’m not sure if this is implying that he wants Barbata to implant false memories within Phos of the past two hundred twenty years, or—heaven forbid—if he’s implying that Phos actually has memories of the timeskip, and that he wants Barbata to make sure Phos doesn’t lose any of them.  If it’s the latter, that would suggest that Phos has, somehow, been conscious this whole time (holy shit,) and that Aechmea doesn’t want Phos to be able to move past those memories.  Regardless of what he’s referring to though, the sentiment behind his cryptic order is clear: now that he’s molded Phos into something he can easily control, he’s taking pains to ensure that they’re stuck in their current incarnation, so that they don’t evolve ever again.  It brings to my mind this scene in chapter 54, in which Aechmea all but fetishizes Phos’s capacity for change.  It was already pretty creepy, but knowing that this is what he intended for Phos to change into adds another layer of wrongness to that exchange.

It’s interesting that just a couple chapters ago, Phos was screaming at Kongou “If only you weren’t here!”   But here, the sentiment has completely inverted, and Phos is weeping as they say that Kongou is the only one who still cares for them, and that it’s the gems who shouldn’t be here.  In only a few short hours, they’ve gone from directing all their hatred at Kongou, to directing it at everyone except him.  Their rage is unformed and all over the place.  Good thing Aechmea’s here to refine it to his own ends!

Aechmea says that he’ll answer Cairngorm’s question “when this is all over.”  That could imply a couple of different things, depending on what he means by that.  If he means he’ll tell Cairn after he’s finished dealing with Phos for this chapter, then that’s one thing.  But, if by ‘all over’ he means that he’s not going to say anything until Kongou successfully prays, and his victory is assured--as with the previous secret he was keeping from Cairngorm, then that implies that whatever he was alluding to when he said he had loved Cairngorm since before they came to the moon, it’s probably something awful.

If you’ve been following my essays for a while, you’ll know that I’ve long suspected that some sort of Cairn-related plot twist will rear its ugly head at some point in the near future, and that mind-control eyeballs were perhaps only the tip of the iceberg.  Well, after nearly a year of deliberation, I’ve settled on my personal theory of what this plot twist could be, but it’s far outside the scope of an essay focused on a single chapter, so I’m going to post my thoughts on that in another essay sometime in the coming weeks.  Keep an eye out for it if you want to see me go fully and embarrassingly tinfoil hat.  (With my luck, chapter 83 is going to reveal what Aechmea meant by his cryptic statement before I get that essay done, and it’s going to be something banal, thus ruining my precious conspiracy theory.)

But enough about cornmeal and acne man, let’s talk about the trajectory Phos seems to be on, and also about Cinnabar.

For quite a while now, it’s been a pretty popular theory that Cinnabar will eventually kill Phos with their mercury, and it does feel like things could head in that direction.  Phos is so far gone that they’re willing to kill anyone in their path, and in so much pain that their death could be construed as a mercy.  And since they can best Bort in a fight, it would seem that Cinnabar’s mercury is the only thing that could actually stop them, especially since it could chemically bind to their alloy and poison Phos from the inside out.  To be perfectly honest though, something about this potential course of events has always rubbed me the wrong way, but until this chapter, I hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what it was I didn’t like.  

The whole story was started because Phos thought Cinnabar deserved better than their miserable lot in life.  At no point did Phos, or the narrative for that matter, ever suggest that it would be for the best if Cinnabar were simply put out of their misery.  Their plight warranted not just a release from pain, but a better life to replace it.  And as they are now, Cinnabar probably doesn’t want to die anymore, and I imagine they’re glad they didn’t go through with their passive attempt at suicide.  (Come to think of it, I think they’re the sole character who’s moved away from being suicidally depressed over the course of the story, instead of gradually succumbing to it.)  So, now that the shoe is thoroughly on the other foot, and Phos is the one at rock bottom, it would leave a really bad taste in my mouth if Cinnabar’s response to Phos’s pain ends up being: “Yeah, you should die.”  

So, although the plot is probably going maneuver Cinnabar into a situation in which they have to decide whether or not to kill Phos, I hope that it’s ultimately in service of that not coming to pass.  

Speaking of Cinnabar, I really hope we finally get more insight into them in these coming chapters. Broadly speaking, more stuff has happened with them the past twenty or so chapters than most of the rest of the series.  Their whole life was upended, they (seemingly) made a friend in Bort, and they’re finally making choices that affect the plot, which hasn’t really happened since volume two.  But, despite all this, we don’t really know what they’re actually thinking, of what emotions they’ve been going through.  You can make some inferences, but that’s not really as affecting as experiencing their perspective firsthand, and I think that’s why people get the impression that they’ve been made irrelevant to the story, despite the fact that they’ve been contributing to the plot lately.  So, hopefully we’ll finally get some further elaboration on them in the near future; I think it would remedy the issue quite a bit.

I’ve been thinking lately that what Cinnabar did to Phos in this arc is kind of a grim mirror of how Phos’s desire to help Cinnabar became muddied over the course of the story.  I don’t believe that Cinnabar was acting out of malice in chapter 78 when they suggested burying Phos in pieces.  If they genuinely wanted Phos dead, they could have encouraged the earth gems to go along with Rutile’s murderous impulses, instead of coming up with a plan in which Phos might come back eventually—certainly no one else in that scene, sans Euclase, voiced any objection to Rutile’s idea, and if Cinnabar hadn’t spoken up, they all might have gone along with it.  I think it’s quite possible that they were attempting to protect Phos by trying to appease the other gems’ enmity in a way that wouldn’t bring Phos permanent harm.  

But, just like how Phos’s ever-shifting goalposts pushed Cinnabar to the back of their mind over the course of the story, it’s possible that their new life among the gems had the same effect on Cinnabar.  Thus, in their mind, Phos was relegated to an important but altogether distant obligation that they’d deal with later, when the time was right.  But since these are gems we’re talking about, the time is never right, and complicated problems like these never get dealt with.  And just like how it was cruel and thoughtless when Phos put Cinnabar on the backburner, it’s cruel here too—especially if, as I speculated earlier, Phos was somehow awake this whole time.

Because I am a sentimental sap who still has a little bit of hope for a bittersweet ending instead of a complete tragedy, I think that Cinnabar might actually be a wild card in this situation, one who has the potential to save Phos from themselves.  (I’m sorry.  I can’t help myself.  My mind is stuck in power-of-friendship mode, and it’ll probably stay there until Ichikawa beats the idealism out of me, just like she beat it out of Phos.)  Keeping in mind what things Aechmea has been able to deduce either through direct observation through Phos’s eye, or what might have been reported to him from any Lunarians returning from an attack on earth, he doesn’t have enough information to figure out that Phos had a strong connection to Cinnabar.  Although he’s confident now that Phos has no ties to anything they once loved, and is wholly dependent on him, the previous chapter shows that Cinnabar still means something to Phos, even in this state.  Since all of this exists in a blind spot for Aechmea, I think it has the potential to muck up his plans—if Ichikawa deigns it to be so, of course.

Now let’s talk about symbolism, because there’s a lot of it.  First off, I want to talk about a pattern I noticed regarding Phos’s changes, one which I discussed in the very first meta I wrote for the series.  At the time, I speculated that the title of the art book, Pseudomorph of Love, was hinting at this pattern, but when the artbook was translated later courtesy of @red-dia, it turns out that said title was alluding to something totally different. Nevertheless, I think I may have inadvertently stumbled onto a method regarding Phos’s changes that seems too consistent to not be deliberate, and I’ll reiterate it here:  With the very notable exception of the pearl eye, down to even the most minor of losses, every permanent loss and addition to Phos’s body has been tied to an attempted act of kindness.  Specifically, Phos loses parts when trying to do something altruistic, and they are given new parts out of kindness on another characters part.

They had to have contaminated parts of their body scraped away after trying to save Cinnabar from falling.

They lost their legs while trying to help Ventricosus return home, and gained the new legs because of an act of kindness on her part.

Although the ice flows initially tried tempting Phos into giving up their arms by reflecting their self-loathing, it was only when they frightened Phos with the idea that Cinnabar might kill themselves if Phos doesn’t change quickly enough that they accidentally-on-purpose lost their arms.  While Antarc initially dismissed the gold they ended up giving to Phos as useless, they changed their tune when they noticed Phos projecting their own low self-esteem onto the gold.  To me, it seems like the act of giving Phos the gold was their way of telling Phos that they’re not worthless.

They lost a bunch of small pieces while trying to save Antarcticite

They lost their head while trying to save Cairn’s arm.  And then Cairn... uh…  Let’s put a pin in that for now, and come back to it when their character arc has progressed a bit further.  The element of mind control eyeballs that may or may not even be real makes the situation a bit more fraught than I care to get into right this very second.

They lost Lapis’s hair while shielding Morga and Goshe from the Lunarians.

They gave away a piece of their leg so the Admirabilis would know they weren’t holding a grudge against Ventricosus

With that established, let’s talk about the pearl eye.  The moment they received it was practically an inverse of the established pattern. It was a transformation motivated by spite on Phos’s part, and for Aechmea, it was an opportunity to exert control over them.  Even the act of receiving the pearl eye made them sick, mysterious human particles notwithstanding.  The ensuing chapters after they received the pearl eye are, as I’m sure you’re all aware, a whole lot darker and meaner than what the story had been up to that point. If I had to draw a dividing line between the part of hnk that is simply melancholy, and the part that makes the reader feel like a frog in boiling water, I’d use Phos’s first trip to the moon to demarcate these two tones—and the symbol that heralded this descent into hell was the introduction of an unkind addition to Phos’s body.  

That brings us to the matter of their most recent loss.  Since it’s now apparent that they won’t be getting their other parts back, we can look back on the moment they lost those parts for good and see if it fits the previous pattern, and in my opinion, it does.  The reason Phos was in that situation was because they were making a last ditch effort to do right by everyone else, and take responsibility for their mistakes.  It was at this point that they mustered up the last bit of kindness and courage they still had in their heart.

But the loss of a given part is only one half of the equation, which begs the question: with what sentiment will Barbata give Phos their replacements?  Barbata has subtly given off the impression that he feels guilty about his role in the various atrocities the Lunarians have undertaken, and is disillusioned with Aechmea, but is as of yet unwilling to actually go against him.  If there’s ever going to be a point in the story in which he decides to do the right thing instead of just following orders, it’s now or never.  I’m counting on you, pasta man.  Follow your conscience for once!  Either way, whether Phos’s reconstruction ends up being an act of kindness on Barbata’s part, or simply another expression of Aechmea’s corruption is, in my opinion, a crucial distinction that will have ramifications for the future of Phos’s character arc.  Speaking of which, it now seems like Red Diamond is the most likely candidate for a replacement, since Padparadscha is busy being asleep on earth.

I’ve talked about how a character’s eyeballs and where they got them from symbolizes their worldview, broadly speaking.  This chapter seems to be a continuation of that.  Kongou shaped the gems’ worldview, which is symbolized by him giving them their eyes, Cairngorm’s devotion to Aechmea is accompanied by them adopting eyes that Aechmea made for them, during the time that Phos was trying to balance the needs of both the gems and the Lunarians, they had an eye from both Kongou and Aechmea, and now that Phos only has the single pearl eye left, they’re thinking with a one-track mind from a distinctly Lunarian perspective: that everything that gets in the way of their salvation needs to die.

I also find it interesting that Phos’s original material is mostly intact, and what they’ve lost are chunks of their legs and head.  It probably symbolizes something, but my brain is starting to leak out of my ears at this point, so I’m just going to remember it for later and see if the meaning becomes clearer in retrospect.

Regarding Phos’s alloy shaping itself into a lotus’s seedpod, my first reaction was that it was a rather ambivalent symbol to use in the context of Phos’s downfall.  On one hand, the seedpod only appears when the highly symbolic flower dies, but on the other hand, while the flower is the part of the plant to which a number of cultures have ascribed auspicious meanings like purity and renewal, it is the humble, unsightly seedpod that goes about the actual business of rebirth.  

But, as @rinboz pointed out in a post on the subject, it appears to be specifically evoking the image of an empty seedpod.  If that’s what Ichikawa is going for, then the meaning is unambiguously ominous, to put it mildly.

Lastly, I brought up in my previous essay that it was highly convenient that Phos happened to trip off the table at the last possible second, and in a manner so noisy that it woke the other gems, no less.  In this chapter, Phos lays the blame for their failure on the earth gems interfering… but that only happened because Phos made a racket.  I speculated that they may have subconsciously sabotaged themselves—it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.  I don’t know how likely that possibility is, but I think it’s one worth keeping in mind.

Well, that was heavy. But on a lighter note, I think it may be time for me to update the only good meta I’ve ever written, birdseki no kuni.  What should Phos 4.0 be?  I think this feral demigod of vengeance ought to be represented by a real apeshit bird, like an Australian magpie, or something.  This will require further deliberation.

[callowed]

☻☺♪★✄♈♓

Headcanons- Open

//Oh man this one got real long

☻:  three things that make my muse sad 

Failure. Every piece of Tyrian is built to kill. It’s what he’s good at, it’s what he loves. He took it to extremes, let it consume him. It’s all he is. His purpose in life is to be a weapon, he exists for the sole purpose to be used to harm others. So when he fails in his duties, he feels absolutely worthless. His only value, in his eyes, comes from his ability to hurt. You do not expect a knife to do anything but cut, and you expect it to cut well. If he fails to do the one thing he was put in this world to do, then..... what reason does he have to exist at all? A knife that can’t cut is nothing more than scrap metal, garbage.

Denial. He sees the little seeds of darkness inside of people. He likes to nurture them, to encourage them to indulge in their darker impulses. He’s a firm believer that happiness comes from being comfortable with yourself. Knowing what you enjoy, being honest with it, and pursuing it. To see people deny these parts of themselves feels like holding back. It feels like giving up, not letting yourself live your life to the fullest. To see the dull lives that people lead, the way they grit their teeth and simply allow things to continue at such a mediocre, dissatisfying pace... It saddens him. It’s as though these people are already dead.

Neglect. He knows he is not designed for being loved. Undeserving of tenderness. He wishes he could cut it all out, to just leave a monster behind that knows nothing but carnage and euphoria. He wishes it didn’t hurt so much to be ignored, when he knows a weapon lies forgotten until needed. He’s so sure that’s what he is, an instrument of destruction; so the feeling of longing, of wanting to be seen or held, feels like something he shouldn’t have. It feels like a mistake. And it makes the sadness he feels just that much worse, thinking that he shouldn’t be allowed to be sad about something like this.

☺:  three things that make my muse happy

Bloodshed. Tyrian is a sadist in its purest, most concentrated form. Feeling flesh tear under his blades, the smell of a city on fire, the taste of blood, a symphony of screams, it’s ecstasy. It’s a thirst that drives him, controls him, and he sees no reason to stop it from doing so when succumbing to it feels so good.

Love. As confused of an understanding that he has of it, Tyrian is very driven by love. He serves Salem because he loves Her. He chose his place in life because he loves doing what he does. When Tyrian loves something, he gives every last piece of himself to it. He loves intensively, obsessively; he wants to drown himself in it. Let it consume his life.

Utility. This is what it means to be loved. To be used is to be needed. For the talents he can provide to have value to someone, for him to be considered an asset, is the closest approximation to love he allows himself. It’s what makes sense to him. He only knows how to break things, so the best he can hope for is to be seen as very good at breaking things.

♪:  three songs that remind me of my muse

I have a whole playlist for him, but I’ll pick three of my favorites.

Ready to Die- Andrew WK For obvious reasons, but I like the juxtaposition of aggressive metal instruments playing a very upbeat tune about killing people.

2econd-2ight-2eer- Will Wood I only let myself pick one Will Wood song for this and this is my choice. “The devil made me do it, but I also kind of wanted to” is literally his entire character.

Last Caress- Misfits Violent and obscene, and addresses death like a person; calling it sweet and lovely and waiting for its embrace.

★:  a wish my muse has

Sometimes, Tyrian wishes he could be more. More than just death, something a little more human. Something deeper, with pieces capable of loving. But he can’t. He can never move past it. He craves it, it’s not just a part of him... it’s all he is. Without it, there would be nothing left. And he loves it too much to want to let it go, to try to fight it when he knows he will inevitably fail and have the dark pull him in again.

Sometimes he wishes he could have something softer. But most of the time, he wishes he could just kill that softness. Carve it out of himself so that there’s no more doubt, no more feeling besides pain, nothing left of him but claws and fangs and barbs and knives.

✄:  is my muse creative?

Yes, and in all the worst ways. When it comes to twisting people’s emotions against them, or causing as much widespread panic as possible, or simply imagining all the different ways to torture a person, very few people are creative as Tyrian. He’s very good at adapting, improvising a plan on the fly, and he’s far better at it than plotting up something beforehand. He’s the most creative person you’ll ever meet when it comes to bloody fantasies.

♈:  the most daring thing your muse has ever done

He outdoes himself on this front constantly, but a few moments come to mind of him staring death right in the face and grinning.

Salem’s inner circle is the most informed on Her intentions, Her truth, but there are some others less important that She has twisted the arm of, manipulated, or otherwise blackmailed into acting as informants. The Grimm are Her eyes in the countryside, but these informants can be vital in providing information about more populated areas. Tyrian has had to meet with some before; sometimes for leads in his hunt for maidens or huntsmen, but at other times simply to scare them into obedience when Her Grace catches wind of their wavering loyalties.

It was one such time he found himself meeting in a seedy bar in Anima. Nearly all the dealings here were shady, and nobody’s hands were clean enough to bother batting an eye at any sort of questionable behavior, so long as they didn’t cause any property damage. He sat at the opposite end of a table with the informant in question- A human man, late thirties. Unspeakably plain-looking and unassuming. Perfect for gathering intel undetected. Or at least, he would be, if he were to dismount his high horse. Tyrian bit his tongue and refrained from tearing the man apart at his insolence, the sheer nonchalant disrespect the man showed his Goddess. He knew it came from a place of ignorance. If he truly knew what She was, he wouldn’t say such ridiculous things.

However, the man’s general lack of understanding of his situation was beginning to get on Tyrian’s nerves. He wanted compensation for his work. A reward.

“I don’t think you fully grasp your situation here, Cole Blackwell,” He spoke with a sharp tone, using the man’s full name to add weight to it as he leaned across the table slightly, staring him down. “Your reward is your continued existence. You are in a very poor position to ask for a prize. It is either your cooperation... or your life.” Tyrian’s eye’s bore into the spy, the glint of malice and bloodlust evident in them without him having to say a word. The fool continued to blunder.

“From where I’m sitting...” Cole kept his voice steady, although it was clearly an effort on his part. Tyrian noticed his arms shift under the table. “There’s a third option.” With that, he reached his hand out from below to reveal a gun, and pointed it in Tyrian’s direction. The faunus didn’t so much as flinch. It took everything in him not to break into a fit of cackles and draw attention to their little confrontation in their corner of the bar. A few restrained chuckles shook his shoulders despite his best efforts.

Tyrian leaned even further forward, licking his lips and pressing his forehead against the barrel of the gun, his crazed stare never once straying from the little rebel’s eyes.

“Then do it,” he hissed with a wide grin, “I’ll even drop my aura for you.” And sure enough, Tyrian drew a clawed finger across his face rough enough to leave a mark that noticeably did not heal. He pressed his head into the gun again, relishing in the way he man’s hand trembled slightly in a mixture of fear, confusion, and uncertainty. “You know a bullet in my brain won’t stop this.” Tyrian’s voice was low and dangerous as he stared the man in the eyes like he was daring him to blink first. “She knows where you live. Perhaps if your own life isn’t enough to convince you, we should see if you find theirs more valuable. Two girls, isn’t it? Holly and Ivy?” The color in Cole’s face drained at the mention of the names, his steely facade cracking into a picturesque depiction of absolute dread. Tyrian chuckled darkly. “My Fair Lady would be very displeased to lose me, and I wouldn’t be around to convince Her not to take from you whatever She deems fit as..... retribution.” The man’s hand trembled. Tyrian pulled away with a smirk, never breaking eye contact as he licked the barrel of the gun just to rub salt in the wound. The informant’s eyes were so beautiful as they were, filled to the brim with fear and disgust. He lowered the gun in defeat.

“I knew I could trust you to listen to reason, mister Blackwell~” Tyrian spoke cordially and cheerfully as if he hadn’t had a gun to his head mere seconds ago, as if he didn’t just threaten the man’s family.

“Get fucked,” The man spat, his voice dripping with disdain and reluctance. A sweet sound. “You’re sick.”

A high-pitched cackle was unavoidable at the comment, Tyrian no longer caring to hold it back. As he gathered himself again, he replied, “And you’re in over your head. I suppose we’re both beyond saving then.”

He stood up from his seat, leaning close to the shocked, broken man once more to speak lowly in his ear.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, as always, Cole Blackwell. I’ll see you soon~” his excitement was ominous, and he left the poor man alone to marinate in the darkness of his reality as he sauntered away. Sure, he didn’t have to drop his aura to make a point, he didn’t have to cut it so close. Grey’s finger could have slipped at any second, or perhaps he could have grown a spine and pulled the trigger on purpose. Tyrian simply kissed death because he wanted to. For the fun of it. It’s part of what made his job so ceaselessly entertaining, to be so close to death in so many different ways without letting it take him just yet, was a simple delight he relished in often.

♓:  my muse’s biggest secret 

I answered one on the previous ask, but as a bonus I will give you one that isn’t so much a huge secret as much as it is something that he would never, ever tell anyone. He hates people who grab or tug at his tail without permission, it’s incredibly rude and objectifying and reminds him too much of his time in the circus when he just had to sit and take it. However. He loves having it pulled near the base. He will never admit this, and anyone who grabs at his tail to find out is likely to get stung unless they are on the very short list of people allowed to do so.

[luna-almighty-god]

Guardian Angel N°13 [Nyx]

Hello, this is chapter thirteen! The drawing is mine, please don't take it!

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

Have a good read!

===

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

===

[He was born to kill.]

It wasn't a lie, or a depression, or just a quick remark made in haste. It was simply a statement of fact. A statement about what his life had been like, both before and after he was born.

He was born to kill. He had been raised to kill. And Nyx often retained a bitter laugh when he saw the people around him looking at him with pity, looking at him as a poor little thing who had been given no choice.

Plum had also looked at him for a long time like that. Plum was like all those unconscious people who looked at him and said, "The poor child, tortured by his parents, locked up in the dungeons, forced to do things he doesn't want to do!"

That was a lot of misunderstanding about Nyx.

Because Nyx wasn't an idiot. Nyx knew he had a choice.

And his choice naturally went in favor of his parents. His parents, whom he wanted to make proud and protect, no matter what.

“Nyx, are you listening?”

Nightmare's voice was deep, intimidating. Enough for his son to fold before him, lower his eyes to the ground:

“Yes, father. I'm all ears.”

The master of misfortune left his throne, his tentacles waving nervously, contrasting with the inexpressive face of their host:

“I don't care what happens to the other colored bastard. But he'd better not be in my way when I'm facing Killer.

- I understand, father. I'll take care of it.”

Nyx squealed, however, when an appendage grabbed it by the throat, to better press it against the wall on its back. Nightmare came closer, almost sticking his face close to him, the pupil crackling with a dangerous, devastating glow:

“Don't disappoint me.”

He released his son and left the room. The young skeleton fell to the ground, grimacing slightly, and massaged his throat.

He could have run away. His magic was unimpeded, he could teleport himself safely out of the castle, see his pencil retrieved and open a portal to another AU. He could do it easily, just as he knew he could hide from everyone, even his parents.

A spell to camouflage his magic. A spell to camouflage his emotions. A spell to teleport him.

He had everything he needed to escape, to get away from here.

But he chose to stay.

[He'd always had a choice.]

*** ***

Color threw himself into a frantic race, too exhausted to use his magic. He succumbed to despair, despite all his fervor and courage... He succumbed, exhausted and terrified, as he watched in the distance as his beloved Killer tried to defend himself against Nightmare.

“Killer!”

He tried to call, to show his soul mate that he was there for him, but his voice was too weak, much too weak.

And tentacles pinned him to the ground.

He hiccupped, a grimace of pain escaping him as he felt his bones cracking all over the place.

“You're the one who caused Father so much trouble...?” Nyx questioned him as he quietly joined him, looking intrigued.

Color coughed, felt the pungent taste of blood fill his puck without being able to retain a reply:

“Haven't you had enough brats?! I have to save Killer! Let go of me!

- I can't grant your request, father is counting on me.

- He's using you! He doesn't see you as a son, but as a tool! Open your eyes!”

The appendages tightened him a little more, aggravating the already large cracks, while Nyx's pupils took on a slight golden glow, as if he had been amused by Color's words. Color, trembling with rage, tried to struggle:

“You don't have to follow Nightmare! You have a choice! You don't have to stoop to this guy's whims just because he's your father!

- ... whim?”

Nyx's tone had changed, as had his pupils, which were slowly turning red:

“I think you're a hypocrite, you who begged Killer to come with you, pretending to love you tenderly.

- Because I love him ! I take care of him!

- But you knew the consequences. You knew it would destroy Nightmare. You knew he'd want revenge. But I guess hurting him was a fabulous bonus. Everybody wants to hurt the nightmare master.

- Because he's a vile being!”

The grip tightened more violently, wrenching a terrible howl from Color who was pushing back his tears as hard as he could.

Nyx's voice was darker:

“It's because everyone else does what you do that my father became like you. It's because of you that he sank. It is because of you that he is unhappy.”

A stream of magic concentrated over Nyx, finally materializing a deep black Gaster Blaster.

Color's soul missed a beat.

Nyx rumbled coldly:

“I have made my choice.”

The blaster charged into a morbid crackle:

“I'm going to make him happy. I'll make both my parents happy.”

Color petrified and broke out in a cold sweat. His wide-eyed eyes moved sharply towards Killer out of instinct, as if to call for help or simply to capture one last time the image of his lover. And frightened, he saw Killer on the ground, about to be finished off by Nightmare.

He hadn't been able to save his lover. This realization finally broke him, tearing bitter tears from his cheeks, which rolled down on his cheeks, before blending into the cloud of dust that became his body when the energy beam pulverized him.

The explosion was harsh, the earth trembled. And Nyx, imperturbable, put his scarf back on properly.

He had made up his mind.

His parents came first. Before everything else.

*** ***

The portal was similar to the last time: a worrying, bluish vortex that hinted at another world, a dark and dangerous future.

Nyx hated this vision.

He had fought to change the course of things, and now he learned that his timeline still existed?

But he should have known better. If his timeline had been erased, he himself would have disappeared, wouldn't he? To tell the truth, he didn't know anything about it, he didn't have enough knowledge to prove anything.

All he knew was that the two timelines shouldn't mix any more. Otherwise his parents would destroy everything he had forced himself to do for them.

...even though... did it still make sense? Making a difference had to help his family. But he'd changed things for another timeline, not his own.

He hadn't fixed anything.

“Damn... (sighs)”

He gritted his teeth, feeling his fences crack again as he approached the gate. If his efforts were useless, what was he to do? How was he supposed to act?

Dream, Error, Cross... they had counted on him. They trusted him.

But they were wrong from the beginning. They were the ones who misled him.

“SHIT!”

A magical flow escaped him, twisted the space around him, made his already feverish body tremble as he did not perceive the slightest change from the portal. The portal that seemed to taunt him with malice, as if to tell him "if you had closed me earlier, you could have lived a sweet life of lies, unaware that your timeline still existed.

He gnashed his teeth, ignoring his soul that had become painful, and made a Gaster Blaster to shoot at the portal. But the ray of magic did nothing, not even a little bit of damage to the wormhole. And if Nyx was tempted to do it again, he was stopped by the sensation of a very familiar magic, an aura that stood behind him and that he would have recognized among a thousand.

He turned pale, his throat dry, and shivered when a hoarse voice rose behind his back:

“Do you really think the gate will close like this?”

A weary, sarcastic voice, broken by the cries, tears, the tumults of life.

Febrile, Nyx turned around gently, his pupils reflecting all his anxiety. As he thought, Nightmare stood there. The Nightmare of his timeline.

“... Hello, Father...”

He watched his progenitor in silence. The emotions were multiple and contradictory: apprehension, fear, joy, relief, shame... So many things the young skeleton would have preferred not to feel.

Sometimes, he would have liked to be devoid of emotion, to tear out his soul like Ink, to become just a vulgar doll unable to feel, and therefore to suffer.

But he was too afraid to do so. Another of his faults: talking a lot, but not acting.

“So you betray me to the end... ?” Nightmare grumbled.

A weary reproach. This Nightmare had gotten used to people turning their backs on him. Nyx knew it, and it gripped his soul with an acidic guilt:

“Father, I ...

- Ink has already told me everything. So you have fun changing a timeline for your own pleasure?

- I-I just wanted to ...”

But a laugh interrupted him, and he shivered at the sight of Nightmare's broad smile. How long had it been since he had smiled?

Nyx swallowed as he approached:

“You are my son! As selfish and manipulative as I am! No matter what your reasons are, laudable or not, you're still a great speaker!”

The drawer did not dare to move, held his breath when his father was a few inches away from him:

“What now, Nyx? Now that you know you've created another timeline without influencing ours? Now that I'm here, now that I've found you? Now that you panic, assailed by doubt? What are you going to do?”

And while he was talking, his tentacles were slipping, wrapping themselves around Nyx's legs, reaching his waist and then his arms.

“Past or future? You want to change things, you're gonna have to erase your past. So take advantage of having me on hand to kill me, closed the portal. Do the job to the end!”

Nyx felt pressure on his body, felt the appendages squeeze harder, hard enough to hurt him without breaking his bones.

“Father, I...”

The physical pain was nothing compared to his mental suffering. He imagined listening to his father, killing him in cold blood, doing the same with Ink. He imagined getting rid of the dust, closing the portal forever, and starting his life over in that timeline.

He imagined doing all this, and a deep headache took him, accompanying the terror that gripped his soul.

His pupils turned blue and he couldn't control it:

“I can't...” he blew, a sob caught in his throat.

Nightmare lost his smile, frowned as he examined his son, trying to read him:

“.... Why? You're happy with our versions of the past, though. Much happier than with us anyway.”

Nyx looked down, on the verge of tears:

“For the same reason I have sacrificed so much so far... because I love you...”

The tentacles suddenly dropped as Nightmare widened his eyes. How can you not be surprised when the son you have tortured for years tells you that he loves you? Especially when, through your fault, said son is filled with negative emotions, addicted to poisoned apples?

Nightmare burst out laughing so much it seemed laughable to him :

“Do you love us? I don't know if that still makes you a worthy heir, but if it allows me to make you obey ...”

He sneered and came and patted Nyx's cheek, just like one would do to a dog:

“So listen to me. You've done a good job on this timeline, it's time to make it all pay off.”

Nyx gave him a confused look, to which Nightmare hastened to reply:

“We're going to get rid of our alters.”

Nyx froze with fright, understanding without difficulty the purpose of this manoeuvre: to eliminate the past versions in order to take their place ... To eliminate the versions with which he had befriended ...

The Ink and the Nightmare of the past. Those who had made the effort to change, to improve themselves, who had built a family life, with whom he had created this 'secret club', those with whom he had drawn or shared meals, those who had given him real attention, who had worried about him, who had housed him, supported him...

Nyx's pupils turned grey.

He nodded slowly.

“I'll do anything for you, Father.”

*** ***

PaperJam nervously triturated the bottom of his shirt, anxious as he watched his parents whisper with concern. The young skeleton, as soon as he had seen his progenitors returned, had understood that something terrible was happening, and he could only apprehend the continuation by seeing Ink close to a nervous breakdown.

Walking away from the kitchen to get out of the house, Jammy took a breath. He had been able to discern Nyx's name in the conversation. It wasn't hard to understand that something had happened to his friend, and the child couldn't accept it.

He loved Nyx very much. The cartoonist was kind and gentle, paid him a lot of attention, but always seemed so sad ... not to mention that crisis he had had the other night, and the way he had thrown himself on the black apple.

And then... he had called Ink "dad".

Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle were coming together in PaperJam's mind, and he wrinkled the arches.

He had to find Nyx. He had to find Nyx right away.

He concentrated his magic, blew... and opened a portal. A proud smile lit up his face : he had been able to use his parents' advice ! Normally he would have bragged about it to them, but right away he couldn't say anything. He suspected that they would not let him go.

He took a new breath, prepared himself for all eventualities, and crossed the gate with a determined step.

[He had to find his big brother]

===

Next chapter

You can support me on my Utip or on my Ko-fi account !

===

Credits =

Dreamtale ->  Joku

Killer -> Rahafwabas

Color -> Super-Youmna

Paperjam -> 7GoodAngel

[sugaxjpg]

01 | heartbreak chronicles; m

⤷  Park Jimin had it all — good grades, a place as the soccer team’s captain and, more than that, the broken hearts of at least half the campus’ population. Though, one thing he did not have was someone willing to break his heart and, after you were dragged inside a miraculous plan to play that part, the last thing counted on was the preposterous idea that, perhaps, you could fall for him as well. 

✓ Couple: Jimin x Reader | Fuckboy!AU

✓ Filed under: smut, bad crack

✓ Words: 10,195

Author’s Note: You guys thought this wouldn’t come back? Me neither. Well, call it a miracle or whatever, but I decided to take the dust off this series and polish into a better version of itself. Just as a reminder, this story is heavily inspired by the movie “John Tucker must die”. Hope you all like it!

The girl’s request echoed on the warm air of your living room, dancing on silence as your body was covered in shock. For an instant, you truly believed you had misheard her words, replacing them for something much more unrealistic. Regardless, as the quietude fell like a blanket over the two of you, you noticed, at last, that your friend could not be more serious. “You want me to do what?” You finally asked, flabbergasted.

The night had started normally — and that was all that you could ever wish for. All that you wanted was to rest after an exhausting week, merely putting your your pajamas and watching shallow TV shows until your tiredness forced you to go to sleep. You wanted to get some pizza and gossip with your roommate about the most frivolous of subjects, allowing for the storm of stress and unfinished projects to disperse from around your head.

However, she had a different idea of how that night would unfold. “We want you to break his heart,” Lisa told you with utter serenity, as if the words that had left her mouth were no more than mundane. “Thought that was quite clear.”

You shook your head, completely skeptical. “You must be out of your mind,” you breathed out, taking the remote control in your hands. Next to you, the girl watched with unshakable expectation as you jumped from channel to channel, avoiding to make eye contact. “Why would I even do something like that?”

“Because you’re his best friend?” She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And it won’t be awkward?”

“That’s exactly why I won’t do it, Lisa, ” you rolled your eyes, unable to believe what she was presenting you. Amidst the ebony of the room, the cyan glow of the television dripped over her features as she accompanied a deep exhale leaving your lips. “God, you make me so mad sometimes. Why did you think this would be a good idea?”

“I didn’t think, sorry!” Lisa was quick to say, leaning back against the couch. Even though she knew you would most likely deny it at first, she did not foresee this petulant attitude of yours. “Why are you taking this so seriously?”

“Why aren’t you?” You threw back within a heartbeat. “Jimin is my best friend, everyone knows that. He knows that. Your friends know that. This stupid plan of yours would be a complete mess.”

“Only if you turn it into a mess,” she spoke underneath her breath, a part of her wishing you had not heard it — if you did so, you made no mention of it. “It’s one night. We would tell you just what you have to do.”

“No, Lisa,” you said firmly. “I'm not breaking Jimin’s heart.’

As those words left your lips, you had to fight back a humorless laugh from escaping your throat — that idea was far too absurd for you to even consider it properly, bordering on something that could come from a bad movie. Duly, Jimin was quite infamous for breaking an unfair share of hearts, but that did not justify such ridiculous plan and, furthermore, did not make it okay for you to do the same to him.

Next to you, Lisa took a deep breath, not giving up so fast. “Listen, I know he’s your friend, but you need to see my side too,” she pressed on, a bit desperate to get her point across. “Jimin broke the heart of at least half of the campus’ female population. He told them that he loved them and then cheated. Do you think that’s fair?”

Your lips fell shut at that, your brain working fast to say the correct words: Lisa had been in that position too, and the last thing you needed was to bring her spirit down. “Do you think revenge will change something?” Was what you chose to say. “I would never do that to him, that’s low.”

“Fine, don’t break his heart, then!” She groaned, throwing herself back to the couch in utter frustration. “Just give him blue balls or something. You know I love you, (y/n), but this is getting out of hand. Last week, Jennie—”

“—-Lisa, you listen to me,” you interrupted before she could go on about the other girl — Jennie was someone close to you as well, and you knew she was only mentioning her as a manipulation technique. “I’ll let this thing slide if you give me a break. I won’t join your plan to break my best friend’s heart, give him blue balls, or whatever you want. Not that it would work anyways.”

You glimpsed at your friend only to find her with a nebulous curtain of tears covering her dark irises. “Do you remember what he did to me?” She questioned, trying to keep her voice steady — Lisa was not sad, she was absolutely angry. “Or do I need to remind you? Do you think that’s not low? That it’s moral?”

“I don’t agree with what he does,” you made sure to tell her, pushing your pride aside to do so. “But that doesn’t mean revenge is the best way to go. Jimin will learn his lesson eventually.”

“Will he? Really?” She frowned, moving closer to you. “If no one stops him, you know he won’t hold even the tiniest of guilt.”

The worst part is that you knew it very well. You knew that, if Jimin did not have a taste of his own poison, he would not stop so soon. You had seen it countless of times already — your best friend treated girls as if they were part of royalty, only to crash their hopes the second he got what he wanted from them, whatever that would be. Every single time, you experienced him telling them they were different, that they were better; only to contradict his mellifluous words with calculated actions and little to no compassion.

No, it was not fair, and you could never act as if it was. Even if he was someone so close to you, there were some things you simply could not turn a blind eye to, aspects you had to call out once it would start to get out of hand — and you did. You had lost count of how many speeches you gave him, how many times you told Jimin that it was not respectful towards anyone to play such sick little game. Regardless, the boy would only laugh, disregarding your opinion as a mistake from your part.

Jimin would not change. And the chance to take care of that problem yourself was something, at least, tempting.

You shook your head, crossing your legs on top of the sofa. Before you, the TV was now mute, casting phantasmagorical shadows on both of you. “I can’t believe I’m considering it.” You sighed.

“You can’t pretend as if he’s not the bad guy on this entire situation,” Lisa spoke slowly, noticing the fragments of empathy within your eyes. “One night, (y/n). It’s enough.”

“You’re acting as if one night won’t have consequences,” you told her, but was not sure of your own words. Jimin had played this card so many times in the past, why wouldn't you do the same? If anything, you could always come clean to him later on. “I still value our friendship.”

“Don't hate me for what I'm about to ask, but does he?” She questioned, making your mouth close at the inquiry. “You said it yourself earlier: he called off your night to hang out with his friends. Doesn’t seem like you’re a huge priority.”

You despised how right she was, and hated yourself even more for sharing that information with her a few hours ago. “Wow, great convincing skills.” Sarcasm was clear in your tone, but so was disappointment.

She elevated one eyebrow. “Did I lie?”

You exhaled, thinking about what she had said — there was no way you could contradict her words, for you were too profoundly frustrated over that occurrence. “No, I don’t think so.”

“So…” Lisa trailed off, unable to hide the hope lingering in her voice. “Is that a yes?”

You bit down on your lower lip, pondering for a second. Maybe it was the way Jimin had called off your night so suddenly, perhaps it was the way he had ignored your numerous advices or the instances that he had broken your friend’s hearts — whatever it was, you found yourself accepting that idea a little bit better now, even finding some sense of entertainment within it.

In a way, the boy deserved a small payback. One night couldn't be so bad, could it?

The answer left your mouth slowly, almost as if the reasonable part of your mind was pulling you back. “Yes…?”

“Fantastic!” Lisa cheered, jumping out of the couch before you could even understand what was going on. As a big smile sprouted on her face, you knew you had committed a grave mistake. “I’ll call the girls over.”

“Girls?” You frowned, a bit panicky. That was something she oh so conveniently failed to mention before. “What girls?”

Your roommate chuckled, hints of malice gleaming inside her gaze. “You didn’t think we would do this alone, did you?”

Jimin was one of those people that seemed to have always been in your life. As far as your memories could take you, the boy had always been present in your daily adventures, going as far as frivolous afternoons on playgrounds; merely two kids imagining their own word. However, as the years passed, you could not deny the way he had changed. Jimin, who used to be such a kind and altruistic kid, morphed into a cloud of egotism, holding little to no empathy towards the people he used — most of them being just like the four girls that were now in front of you.

Jennie was the first one to arrive, for her dorm was in the same floor as your own. You knew her from the few classes you shared, and you were the first person who told her that, perhaps, getting closer to your best friend was not the wisest of ideas. Of course, she was no fool — Jennie, just like the rest of campus, was terribly aware of Jimin’s toxic reputation.

The only issue started when she thought it could be different with her. Something that, as you came to realize, was the common pattern in the boy’s tactics: Jimin would transform himself to fit every girl’s type, acting in a way they simply could not resist after some time. He would tell them, over and over, how he would not treat them like all the others.

Though, he always did.

“You must be kidding me.” You breathed out, unable to find the correct words to express your surprise. “An earpiece?”

Sitting on the floor across from you, Jennie smiled. “It’s super small, no one will notice,” she said, handing you the small object. You watched as it fell on the palm of your open hand, utterly speechless before it. “Your hair will cover it too.”

“This is so extreme,” you exclaimed, rolling it around on your hand — it was discrete enough to be easily hidden, but an earpiece? If there was a limit, that just crossed it. “It’s Jimin, everyone, not a James Bond villain. Besides, how did you even get one?”

“Majoring in computer science has its perks.” Jennie smiled, pride translucent through her every word. That girl was something else. “This way we can give you instructions in real time. Besides, it’s fun to pretend as if this a spy movie, don’t you guys think?”

“Say that for yourself,” Jisoo scoffed, running a hand through her raven hair. She was sitting on the couch by your side, still using the clothes you saw her in that day. “Really, I’m surprised that you accepted our invitation. We all told Lisa it would be far too risky to call you in.”

Jisoo was the second one to arrive, and the one you least expected to. In fact, as you opened the door, all you could think was how deep you had screwed up that time — she was not someone you were close to, but her reputation had gotten to you. From her beauty to her alluring personality, she was someone who received a lot of attention from the male population, and the fact that she was so hurt about Jimin was not something you could ignore so easily.

“I’m surprised too.” You agreed, ignoring the growing discomfort inside your chest.

Next to you, Lisa smiled pridefully. “What can I say? I’m on top of my game,” she teased, pausing for a second as another idea emerged in her mind. “Okay, everyone, let’s remember that we’re here for business. What about you, (y/n), ready for the basics?”

You laughed, humorless. “Not at all.”

“Great!” She exclaimed, moving closer to you in sheer excitement. Somewhere inside your mind, you thought about how you had surrounded yourself with emotional sadists. “The party will be tomorrow, but I think you already know that. We will be there too, you know, backing you up and all that.”

As much as you were paying attention to what she was saying, you still could not permit yourself to present it. In a way, you had grown interested to that entire situation, and could not help but allow for your curiosity — and even a certain feeling of… retribution  — to take the best of you. “I can’t believe this.”

Chaeyoung, who was sitting with her legs crossed on the sofa, attempted to reassure you once again. “You don’t have to think, we’ll do all the actual work,” the girl spoke with tranquility, fingers playing with her pajamas’ pants. According to Lisa, she came in a rush, and didn’t even bother changing. “All you have left is to follow our lead. And don’t complain when you're using the earpiece, especially out loud. You’ll just look crazy.”

Finally, Chaeyoung was the last one to get to your dorm. Unlike the three other girls, she was the one who seemed to be grasping to her rational side, watching that entire plan unfold with even a bit of coldness. Yes, you had seen her around a couple of times — she was truly close to Lisa, and became quite a constant persona on your daily routine — but, other than that, you two never really held a conversation.

The fact that you were in a position like that, especially with people you barely knew, only served to increase the sense of nervousness pulsating inside your chest; insecurity blossoming on your lips on the form of a hidden inquiry. “Wait, but what will I do?” You finally asked, shaking your head as if to scare that hesitation away. “He’s still my best friend, I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Whatever you say, sweetie,” Jisoo waved her hand, disregarding your complaints. All that she wanted were simple and objective results, really; she did not understand why it had to be so overly complicated in your mind. “You won’t have to hop on his dick if you don’t want to, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Even though it would help the plan,” Lisa trailed off, not paying much attention to the way your expression had melted into utter disbelief. “And, just between us, not that big of a sacrifice.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and leaning against the couch. “Moving on…”

“Be prepared to kiss him, though,” Jennie advised, meeting your incredulous gaze. “What? It’s kind of the minimum.”

“Jennie is right, that will happen,” Chaeyoung complied, then paused for a second. When she spoke again, her voice was much lower, almost as if she was sharing a deep secret with you. “Hey, wait a second. You don’t… have feelings for him, do you?”

“Me? No! That’s ridiculous,” you laughed, nervous. He was your best friend, how could you hold those sentiments within you? More than that, if you did, why would you even accept that offer? “I can do this, don’t worry.”

“Okay, if you say so…” she raised her eyebrows, but did not seem convinced. “It’ll be alright, we have faith in you.”

To your luck, Jisoo interrupted the subject before it could unfold into an even bigger mess. “What are you wearing, by the way?”

“I have absolutely no clue,” you were honest, mentally going over your wardrobe — even if you had seen that party coming, nothing really stood out in your mind as worth wearing. “I wasn’t even planning to go tomorrow.”

“Something hot, that’s for sure,” Jennie told you, her eyes gleaming in wickedness. “Jimin has to drool just at the image of you.”

“God, this is cringeworthy,” you groaned, massaging your temples. Over and over again, the absurd characteristic of your situation crashed down on you in merciless waves of guilt and remorse. “I could go using lingerie and it wouldn’t change the fact that I can’t act… hot or whatever.”

“Don’t be stupid! We all have it within ourselves,” Lisa’s voice was swimming in confidence as she told you so, patting your shoulder for a silent form of reassurance. “Just pretend as if you’re acting a part. You used to be on theater club back in high school, right?”

Your face contorted in sheer embarrassment. “I have no idea how you know that, but please, leave it in the past,” you were quick to say, forcing your own brain to leave those shameful memories in the shadows of your perception. “This is not theater club, it’s my b—”

“—Best friend, we know.” Jisoo rolled her eyes. Looking up at her, the girl’s aura seemed to be much more massive, eyes lit up in hidden fury. “And your best friend just happens to be Jimin, the guy that broke us apart. What’s your point?”

“I feel bad doing this, that’s my point,” you spoke, that mere sentence causing for your heart to grow heavy. “I feel like I’m betraying his trust.”

“Oh, just like he did with all of us?” Jennie was the one who threw back, her own voice growing harsher. “Raise your hand if Park Jimin is an asshole that cheated on you, please?”

All the others did as she said, sarcasm plastered across their features as their hands pointed towards the alabaster ceiling. You were in a very delicate position, feeling as if they stared at you under a microscope.

“Okay, I understand,” you sighed as they lowered their arms. “But it’s still fucked up to do the same. It doesn't make us any better.”

“Karma will take care of our asses later, if that’s the case,” Lisa rejected your sentence, throwing it aside as a mere image of your internal self-doubt — she already knew you would try to find excuses. “But, as for right now, I want to see Jimin paying for what he did to us and to so many others. I want him to learn a lesson that is not okay to do what he’s doing.”

“Agreed,” Jisoo said, staring deep inside your irises as she did so — it was very sudden, but her image reminded you of a hungry lion, and perhaps you were the deer in those preposterous circumstances. “You can step out if you want, but someone else will get your part.”

That you could not take. Even against your best judgement, being the “bait” in that situation would at least allow you to have some sort of damage control, and you could tell when it was time to back out. If it was any other person, however, you could not be so sure your friend would not get out extremely hurt. “Whatever, okay. I’m still in,” you breathed out. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“The list is enormous,” Jennie mumbled, slightly wide-eyed at the hypotheses that sprouted in her head. Her words died in her throat as she met the fulminating gazes of the other girls. “What? It is.”

“Just don’t fall for him and we’re good,” Chaeyoung said, ignoring her friend’s unnecessary comment. Suddenly, the reality of her position came back to her, and the late hours made her remember what was waiting the next day. “Now, I think we should get going. Tomorrow is Friday, but the classes are still there.”

Jennie agreed, placing her hand on the couch for support. “Yeah, but we’ll come back before the party,” she said, moving to get the earpiece back, which you handed to her gladly. “Be ready for an extreme makeover. Jimin won’t know what hit him.”

You laughed, skeptical. “You guys calm my spirit down, really.”

“Thank you! We try.” Chaeyoung smiled fondly as Lisa opened the door for them. For a mere instant, you and your roommate held a gaze that was full of electricity, and you could almost feel as her heart beated in excitement. “See you tomorrow, no excuses!”

“Sleep well, sweetie,” Jisoo purred, looking at your from the passageway. “Tomorrow we start breaking Jimin’s heart.”

Slowly and invitingly, the night morphed into a pale pink skyline, greeting you in a brand new day. Your morning classes passed in hidden, euphoric thoughts; the most overwhelming of possibilities running through your mind in a never ending tornado of self-condemnation and stigmas. You swore you were going to get yourself out of that pathetic position, that you would come contact your best friend about the maleficent ideas that had sprouted against him. And you meant it.

However, a quick talk with Jimin was enough to change your mind once and for all.

The sun was dripping down on the open soccer field with delicacy, casting its golden lights on the millimetrically cut grass when the whistle finally sounded, followed by the relieved sighs of the exhausted players. Right at the middle, the captain let out a long exhale, taking the hem of his shirt to dry the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead.

Next to him, his colleague touched his shoulder lightly, greeting him with a smile.  “Park Jimin, your girlfriend is here for your break.” Jungkook teased, pointing at the figure standing before the cyan bleachers.

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Jimin cursed, noticing instantly in the harshness in your posture — crossed arms and a frown on your face — that there was something wrong. With a gorgeous smile, he signaled that you could enter the field, and so you did. “By the way,” he murmured, glancing at Jungkook, who already had his stare locked on you. “Hands off.”

“You’re so overprotective.” His friend grinned, entertained — though, he did not deny the thoughts that had crossed his mind. “Don’t act as if you don’t—”

“—Thank you, Jungkook, that’s all for now,” he cut his sentence short, giving him no mind. As you finally arrived in front of him, Jimin silently thanked the fact that Jungkook had noticed his cue to leave. “How you doing, babe?” He greeted, walking in your direction.

“Told you not to call me that, Park,” you spat, pushing something against his chest. As Jimin looked down, he recognized at being a pair of used socks. “Next time you stop by my dorm, don’t leave your smelly socks behind. I was turning into a post-nuclear warfare in there.”

“Always the gentle soul.” Jimin pouted as he placed one arm around your shoulders, touching his body against your own. “Oh, since you're here, could I ask you something?” He almost whispered.

That could not be good.

You groaned, removing his arm from around you. “Get away, you're all sweaty. Besides, you'll ask it either way,” you told him. “But sure, whatever, go ahead.”

“You're roommates with…” he paused at that, looking down at the dirty socks in his hands as if they held the answer he needed.

Of course he could not even remember that. “Lisa,” you told him, poison dripping from your tongue.

“Lisa, right, yeah,” Jimin confirmed, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Is she… okay with, you know, everything?”

You crossed your arms, defensive. “Do you actually care?”

“Yes, I mean... no,” Jimin bit down on his lower lip, taking an instant to formulate his sentence. Against the bright effulgence of the sun, the boy looked simply ethereal — sand-colored hair gleaming under the light, drops of sweat contouring his celestial features. Even after a hard day at training, the captain still bordered on perfection. “Jungkook told me she's kinda the… revengeful type. To spread rumors.”

“I can't believe you,” you scoffed, taking a step back. Unaffected by your reaction, Jimin looked at you in empty, almost confused expectation. “You cheated on her and now you're worried that she'll spread the word that you have what? A small dick or something?”

“I mean, not that.” He chuckled. His superior posture was getting on your nerves and, even more, his lack of basic common sense and compassion was bordering on the unbearable. “But I don't know, rumors about me is the last thing I need right now.”

“You disgust me sometimes, Jimin,” you rolled your eyes, bitterness taking over your tone. “Lisa is okay, thank you very much. But yeah, she's pissed. Who wouldn’t be?”

His eyes shone in apprehension. “Fuck, so do you think—”

“—She won't say that you have a small dick, if that’s what you want to know,” you cut his sentence short, holding back from implying that there was an even bigger storm coming — and, after that venovenous presentation of his inner insensibility, you had took that situation personally. Duly, Jimin was your friend, but so was Lisa.  “Rest assured, your secret is safe.”

“You wish, but are—” he was interrupted when, from behind him, one of the players called for his captain’s assistance. Jimin told them he would be there in a second, and turned back to you. “Thank you, anyways. And I got the part about the socks. Is that all, babe?”

“Fuck you, stop calling me that,” you grunted, annoyed. However, something sprouted amidst your irritated thoughts. “Actually, I was thinking… are you going tonight? To the frat party?”

“Couldn’t miss that one,” Jimin answered straight away. “Why?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t want to be there alone, that’s all.”

“Wait, stop there,” the boy blinked, raising his hands in front of his chest as if you had just slapped him. “You’re going?”

You frowned, leaning your head to the side. “Why the surprise?”

“Do you have a fever?” Your friend chuckled, trying you place the back of his hand against your forehead. Annoyed, you slapped it away as you took a step back. “Is everything okay?”

“Very funny,” you were sarcastic, ignoring the way some of the other players had stopped, curious, to watch your interaction. “It’s the end of the semester, my finals are over. What’s the problem with me wanting to unwind a little bit?”

Jimin laughed in pure disbelief, shaking his head. “Who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare, for now,” you said with a smirk, taking a couple steps back. Once again, his team members called for him. “See you tonight, Park.”

“I don’t know which demon possessed you, but I’m not calling an exorcist.” Jimin laughed as you moved away from the open field. “See ya, babe.”

“Fuck you and your socks, babe.” You threw back, turning around.

Jimin smiled as you walked away, his eyes falling to the hypnotizing way your body moved against the radiant daylight. This night will be interesting, he thought, absentminded.

He had no idea how interesting, though.

The second your heels clicked against the cold asphalt, you swore you were about to faint under the overwhelming weight of your nervousness. As you got out of the passenger seat, you fought to keep your short red dress in place, cursing at every aspect around you for being thrown in something as preposterous at that situation.

“Won't you look at that.” Lisa smiled, placing her arms over the wheel as she stared up and down your figure, taking in the progress that they had made in just a few hours. “Park Jimin is a dead man.”

“If I don’t die first because of this dress,” you threw back, fingers clinging to its hem in a faithless attempt to keep it in place. It was tighter than you could bear; but, then again, you had been outnumbered countless times that night. “How can you wear this?”

Chaeyoung pouted, her voice coming from the backseat. “What’s the problem? It’s my favorite dress.”

You shook your head in denial, ignoring the iciness of night. “It’s barely a skirt.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Jisoo rolled her eyes, leaning against the open car window. “That’s the intention, anyways. You need to get his attention.”

“Besides, kinda late to back out now,” Jennie completed from her side, the pale glow of her laptop casting phantasmagorical shadows on her attentive eyes — eyes that, within a heartbeat, traveled to something behind you. “Look, that guy is already checking you o—”

“Okay, everyone, let the girl breathe,” Lisa interrupted, actually feeling sorry for the way your aura withered in tension. “We’ll be right here for the good and for the bad parts, okay? If something goes wrong, just inflate his ego.”

You frowned. “Does that even work?”

“Well, knowing you can’t inflate something e—“ she paused, meeting your perplexed irises. “Okay, sorry. It does, though. You’d be impressed.”

You shook your head in silent denial, taking a couple steps back. “I will come drag you all to hell later,” you told them. “Have fun watching my torture.”

“You know we will.” Jisoo smiled, waving as you walked towards the effervescent mansion. “Good luck, sweetie!”

With a deep, shaky exhale, you started walking towards the frat house.

The night had passed in a calamity of preparation and the exhaustive repetition of what would unfold during such event. You had survived Jisoo’s merciless makeup session, Chaeyoung’s unusable attire choice and, finally, the constant bickering coming from Jennie about not damaging such delicate equipment. Then again, it wasn’t as if you had chosen the idea of using an earpiece in the first place. Or that you had any space for choice whatsoever — revenge plans were not synonymous with democracy.

Booming in flashing lights and a low, electronic beat; the mansion stood out like a storm cloud amidst the clean skies of tranquility, its massiveness embracing your body as your shoes clicked against the concrete floor. As you moved towards the front door, thoughts as cloudy as the overcast horizon, you permitted yourself to look back at the silver vehicle, a bit despondent as you noticed that the girls had already rolled up their windows. For you, that only meant one thing: the plan had truly started.

‘Can you hear me? Touch your arm if you can.’ Jennie’s voice sounded firm on your ear, sounding as if to confirm your preoccupations. You did as she said, hearing as she hummed in content. ‘Great. Lisa said that Jimin is probably in the backyard by the pool, but it's too risky because of the equipment. Now, as much as we don’t know about that, it’s better to stay— What?’

She paused, and you could hear the vague, indistinguishable mumbling of someone else’s tone as you walked past the front door. Now, you were out of their field of vision and, as you mingled with the ocean of intoxicated guests, the turbulence in your thoughts only increased.

‘Okay, Chaeyoung said that you should drink a bit to get confident. No need to get drunk, just ease out a little bit,’ the girl advised, no need for further convincing. You were so anxious that you felt as if your heart could burst into flames, and nothing like the good old liquid courage to push you through yet another impulsive decision. ‘We can’t see the kitchen from where we are, so don’t stay too far away from him, otherwise we won’t have any idea of what is going on.’

You hummed, but was not sure if they could hear it over the loud music. To your private bliss, the kitchen was deserted, swimming in empty pizza boxes and a pile of used red cups. It took you some time to find a clean one and, when you did, you were glad that the alcohol was quicker to find.

‘Lisa is asking me to remind you of theater club. Don’t be nervous, just play your part,’ Jennie said, but failed to calm your nerves down. You had no idea how bringing up such tragic part of your past could potentially change something, but it was not working at all. ‘Dammit, we can see him. He's going to the kitchen. Get ready.’

You almost choked on your drink as your heard that, pulse losing its calm rhythm as you chugged down the liquid. It burned your throat slightly, though not enough that it would prevent you from running your hands through your dress, attempting to fix mistakes only you could see.

And that was when he walked in.

Park Jimin was your best friend — but, hell, did he look good. So good, in fact that you could not help the way your eyes trailed down the path from his leather jacket to his black pants, then back at the fascinating way his sandy hair runned down his face like a delicate waterfall, casting a mystical cascade over his dark obsidian eyes.

Perhaps that mission would not be so terrible, after all.

Just like his presence had crashed down on you, the concupiscent vision of your figure shot through his chest. For a second of utter confusion, Jimin simply stared you up and down, stopping dead on his tracks and letting his mouth fall open in a silent exclamation. “Wait, (y/n)?” He spoke, voice coming out slow — as if he was doubtful of the image he had been presented with. “What the fuck happened to you?”

You rolled your eyes, placing your elbow on the marble surface. You needed to keep your composure, that was all. You could do that. “Delicate as a flower, Jimin.”

“You look… fuck, you look amazing,” he found himself utterly breathless under your gaze, mind working on overdrive to find the correct words. “I almost didn't recognize you.”

You raised one eyebrow, interested. “Are you implying I don't always look amazing?”

“No! No, it's just...” Jimin cleared his throat, his eyes still locked on your figure as he started to move towards you. Whatever he was going to do there, it was long forgotten by that point. “Damn, you look hot.”

“Once again, that happens on a daily basis,” you said, sarcastic. Before he could verbalize anything else, you chose to change the subject to a more mundane idea. “Have you been here for long?”

“Um, about an hour?” The boy pondered, leaning against the marble surface. Finally his stare met your own, and you could not identify the sentiment that sparked inside his profound pupils. “I didn't think you were actually coming, though.”

You chuckled, running one hand through your hair. “Why would I lie about that?”

“I have no idea, but I’m so damn glad that you didn’t.” Jimin smirked, allowing for his attention to return to your figure. He was truly shameless. “Do you… wanna get something to drink?”

You pointed at the half empty red cup resting besides you. “Already did, thank you.”

‘What a gentleman, but I’m not buying it,’ Jennie said, sarcasm clear within her every syllable. ‘Ask him to show you around. Get some alone time.’

“What about you show me around?” You voiced, attempting to remain composed. Receiving frequent instructions like that was something you had to grow used to, especially if you wished for that plan to work. “This place feels like a labyrinth.”

“Sure,” Jimin agreed a bit faster than you expected. “What do you wanna see?”

‘It doesn't really matter, I just wanted to spend time with you.’

“It doesn't really matter,” you repeated, lowering your voice just enough for him to notice the subtle change in your posture. “Honestly, I just wanted to spend time with you.”

Jimin’s eyes lit up in understanding as he nodded in agreement. “Oh, of course, yeah,” he told you, stepping aside and pointing at the booming living room. “Come with me, then.”

Enwrapped by the faint illumination of that crowded residence, Jimin swore he was about to lose himself in your presence. Your friend found himself oddly drawn by your proximity, his gaze adventuring from the marvelous contours of your body — pausing at the outline of your hips or the alluring contours of your breasts. It was hell masked by a vision of paradise; the crimson hue of your dress oh so perfectly combining with the profoundness of your gaze.

As he guided you around the fraternity, you could not help but notice those small deviations in his actions, as if he was holding back a strong sentiment within his chest. It was almost comical to think that you would be the one who trigger such uncharacteristic attraction — but, at the same time, you were not complaining.

Just as you were about to forget the reason why you had gone there, Jennie’s voice broke your reveries. ‘Ask him about his game next week.’

“How are you doing? You know, for your game next week,” you pushed your shoulder against his own, playful. Your friend found your gentleness a bit odd, but chose not to comment on it — if anything, your presence itself seemed to have shifted completely within a day, and Jimin simply adored it. “You've been practicing a lot.”

“Yeah, I'm a bit nervous about it,” Jimin admitted, eyes lost in the frenzy of guests. You could not help but notice the way the lights of the party — a marvelous magenta hue — dripped over his features with utter delicacy, causing for his inky eyes to stand out, attentive and deep as ever. “Big team, you know?”

“Nothing you can't go against,” you told him, sure of your claims. You could almost visualize Lisa smiling as you did that, his inflated ego being something she commented tirelessly. “You're the team captain for a reason.”

“I guess, but the responsibility still falls on my shoulders,” he responded, but his tone did seem a bit lighter after your subtle compliment. “Didn’t know you actually cared about it, though. You never seemed to be big on sports.”

You hummed, taking a moment before responding. “I've been… quite interested lately.”

‘That's good. Keep that confidence on,’ Jennie said, her voice making your heart skip a beat. You had almost forgotten they were there, and it made you feel horribly vulnerable. ‘Ask if he can show you the second floor as you're still in front of the stairs.’

“Hey, can you show me the second floor?” You asked, using a slow tone to mask the abruptness of your request. Jimin raised an eyebrow in confusion, watching as you had stopped walking right in front of the endless marble steps. “I'm curious about what goes on up there.”

“It's impossible you don't have an idea already,” he chuckled, but could not bring himself to turn down such tempting proposal. “Alright, okay. Just don't blame me if all doors are locked, or if you see something you don't want to.”

‘Shit, we can see you two now from the window. Oh my god, he can't stop staring at your tits,’ Jennie giggled at that, her sentence causing for you to notice something you had been ignoring for all that time — truly, Jimin could not take his eyes off the curvature of your breasts, and it was starting to make you uncomfortable. ‘Jisoo says for you to tease him about it.’

“I won't,” you responded, placing two of your fingers on his chin, forcing him to look back at you. “Really, Park? It's rude not to hold eye contact.”

“Sorry,” Jimin said, his voice coming out an octave lower. As if it was a natural reaction, he took a step towards you; tension pulsating between your bodies. “You just look… very fucking good.”

‘Show me the second floor, then.’

You chuckled, taking the hand that was on his face and allowing for it to run towards his shoulder. “Why don't you show me the second floor, then?” You asked slowly, taking your time to dwell into the sheer desire that coruscated inside his ebony irises.

Jimin licked his lips, his gaze lost in your own. “Yeah, I could… I could do that,” he trailed off, meeting your eyes as he took a step back, signaling to the stairs besides you. “Ladies first.”

You nodded, satisfied with his posture. “Thank you.”

‘He's totally staring at your ass right now,’ she chuckled, entertained. ‘This is incredible, my dreams are coming true— Yes, Lisa, I have very strange dreams.’

Guilty as charged. You could practically feel as his eyes burned down your back, his aura growing thicker by every step. Neither of you were stupid, you knew perfectly well what those bedrooms offered; and were both fine with it.

That, however, made you realize something else — not even you, as his friend, was safe. Jimin clearly did not mind your friendship that much, seeing as he was oh so quick to throw it aside just to satiate his lustful, ephemeral thoughts. In the end, he saw you like any other girl he had used; and that realization enraged you as much as it pained your soul.

“This is the second floor, in all its glory,” he told you, guiding you to the end of the hall. He pointed at a wooden door by the corner, and you understood that that was the place that you were heading. “Sometimes I crash here after a game. Hope no one is using my bed for, you know, something.”

“As if you wouldn't do that yourself.” You laughed, waiting a bit before you continued. You almost wished that corridor could be a little longer, so you could actually think better about your words. “Don’t pretend as if I’m the first person you bring up here, Park.”

“Excuse you?” He spoke, but did not seem truly offended. It was almost unfair how good he looked under those warm damascus lights, but not even that would drag you away from your purpose for that night. “When did we start pointing fingers?”

You smiled, leaning against the alabaster walls, eyes falling to his digits as they curled around the silver handle. “You didn't deny, though.”

“No reason to,” Jimin was quick to say as he opened the door, his shoulders falling as he found his private place still untouched. “God exists. We're cool.”

He turned on the lights, signaling for you to enter. You crossed your arms in interest as your eyes visited the most peculiar aspects of that room; from the countless soccer-related posters that encrusted the walls from the several, golden trophies that were decorated the shelves. Next to an open window, a queen-sized bed awaited for you two, sheets meticulously placed on it.

“Impressive,” you commented, gaze traveling around the posters on the walls. The door clicked shut behind you, and the boy walked towards the bed. “You managed to become the stereotype of a college soccer player within two seconds.”

“Hey, the decoration wasn't on me,” Jimin defended himself, throwing his body on the mattress so he could sit down. “Blame Taehyung for that.”

You chuckled, mind already somewhere else. “I'll make sure to.”

‘Good, don't let the conversation die. I don't know how close you two are right now, but take a few steps towards him,’ Jennie told you, taking a second before adding another advice. ‘Ask him how’s the party going, we need that opening.’

You moved slowly towards him, but kept your eyes lost somewhere else. “So, how's the party so far?” You questioned, glimpsing at his focused gaze for a mere instant before leaving it — Jimin was used to receiving all the attention in the world, and you were not about to give him that just yet. “I got here a bit later than I expected, maybe I lost all the fun parts.”

He thought for a second, but did not actually care about the event since you had arrived. “The usual, I guess,” he merely replied, running one hand through his sand-colored hair. “Don't worry, you haven't lost much.”

‘I'm sorry that I dragged you away from your friends.’

“I hope I didn't drag you away from your friends,” you trailed off, your heels clicking against the polished wooden floor as you moved towards the bed. “Sorry if that happened.”

“There's no problem here, babe,” Jimin guaranteed, leaning back a little. Shame forgotten, his eyes followed the alluring swinging of your hips as you approached him, his mind focused on the overwhelming curves of your body. “The party got a thousand times better since you came over.”

‘What a loser.’ Jennie scoffed. ‘Say: Did you wait for me?’

“I'm glad to hear that.” You chuckled lightly. “Did you wait for me?”

Jimin sighed, dreamy. “I was praying you'd come, really,” he trailed off, focused on the way you looked so good on that scarlet dress. “And I wasn't disappointed.”

‘Tell me something so we can know your positions.’

You hummed, both directed at Jennie and the boy in front of you. “Is this okay?” You questioned, placing your hands on his shoulders. Jimin felt his heartbeat increasing at the mere contact, your eyes dripping the lust he never thought he needed. “I mean, you're sitting on the bed, and I'm standing up so close to you… I can step back if you want.”

‘Fuck, okay. Girls, we’re going in. Ready for impact.’

“Fuck no.” Jimin breathed out, eyes falling to the curves of your breasts. His hands landed on your waist, lightly pulling you towards his figure. “In fact, you can… come closer.”

‘How close?’

“That's nice,” you commented, allowing for your knees to meet the mattress. Now, your voice was much lower, driven by desire — were you acting it out? At that point, you were not so sure. “How close?”

Jimin groaned, applying more pressure on your flesh. “Closer.”

‘Straddle his lap,’ Jennie’s voice sounded on your ear, dragging you back to reality. Somewhere inside your mind, you perceived the way you were getting carried away. ‘Let your foreheads touch, but he should be the one to kiss you.’

You did as she requested, placing your center against his own. The hem of your dress runned up your thighs as you did so, exposing more of your skin. “Is this okay?” You purred, leaning your forehead against his own ― nothing more than a mere centimeter, but enough that he flinched at the premise of a contact. You were so incredibly, dangerously close to him that he felt as if he was dreaming, marveling on the ethereal contours of your face as your eyes shone amidst the darkness of the room.

“More than okay,” he almost moaned out, shaky. His eyes fell from your plump lips to the curves of your body as he savored on every small detail, wondering how mesmerizing you looked under all those clothes. More than that, Jimin caught himself delving into the carnal images of your body under his own, all open for him to have a taste of. “Fuck, babe. You're killing me here. You're my friend, I can't—”

“—You can, Jimin,” you interrupted, taking one hand to cup the soft skin of his cheek. The mere touch was enough to send an electric pulse through his body, making him lick his lips in expectation. Neither of you believed that was happening, but delighted in every second of it. “I want you to.”

‘Jisoo says take his hand and place it on your breasts— Yeah, stop showing off, we know he loved that, we've all been there—’

God, Jimin needed you so bad it almost hurt him. “Babe...” He started to say, but his sentence got lost in the way you moved.

You took one of his hands, guiding his touch from your waist to your stomach, and then up your chest. Placing it over one of your breasts, you forced out a light moan as he squeezed the place; causing for his eyes to light up in sheer desire. “Jimin,” you called out, needy. “I want you.”

“Shit,” he cursed, sanity hanging by a thread.  Your lips were so close that they touched as he spoke, his heavy breathing hitting your face as he ever so faithlessly attempted to hold back to the remnants of his reason. “You're so fucking hot.”

From the other side of the connection, Jennie sighed. ‘Why is the boy so slow? Jesus. Ask him to kiss you already.’

Somewhere along that interaction, all fragments of hesitation had left your body. The girls could call it whatever they wanted — alcohol, confidence or even revenge —, but you were gradually coming to terms with your current position: you were feeling attraction towards your best friend. More than you ever should, more than you could ever admit to.

But, shit, you were not lying when you said you wanted him.

Your eyelashes fluttered as your eyes closed with delicacy, voice no more than a seductive whisper as you repeated those words. “Can you kiss me, Jimin?”

For him, that was enough.

Faster than he could understand, his lips were crashing against yours as you moved up his lap; hands holding to his shoulders as a moan dripped from his plump lips. Jimin kissed you with fervor and desire, delighting in the honey of your tongue and running his hands through your body like he wanted to to explore it whole. You melted under his touch, sighing against his mouth as his digits found the flesh of your ass; pulling you down against his center.

He grunted and moaned against your mouth, biting your lips as he felt the amazing pressure of your body on top of his. The boy thought you looked utterly aphrodisiac, capable to drive him towards madness with a simple kiss.

‘Damn, by the sounds of it, he's liking whatever you're doing,’ Jennie commented, sounding surprised. ‘Sorry, I'm making this awkward. Lisa says for you to roll your hips against him.’

Fuck it.

Jimin whimpered at the contact, a sound so harmonic you simply needed to hear again. You pulled your hips back just so you could push them back down, the outline of his hard cock running straight through your clothes’ folds and to your clit. It did not take long for you to set a pace — kissing and biting his swollen lips as you rolled your core against his own, earning countless groans from your friend.

The boy separated the kiss to work on your neck as you kept grinding against him, the tingling on your stomach pushing you to add even more pressure. You were already soaked, fighting back your own moans and he sucked on your soft skin, grunting against your flesh as his fingers dug deep to your sides. “That feels so fucking good,” Jimin moaned out, licking the place he had just savored. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum on my pants like this.”

‘Don't let him take control, okay? He's not getting anything tonight,’ she paused for a second, thinking about what your next moves would be. ‘Ask him what he wants.’

“What do you want, Jimin?” You voiced, dangerously slow. Jimin followed the movements of your lips with endless fascination, and you wondered if perhaps he was picturing something else.

He groaned, closing his eyes in bliss. “Shit, I want you, babe.”

‘Good. Now we know what we won't give,’ she said, a sense of victory lingering on her words. Those girls were emotional sadists, but were you any better? In that instant, you did not think so. ‘Tease him a bit more, but no undressing. He doesn't even get to see.’

“What do you want me to do?” You provoked, voice coming out as a whisper.

“Faster, please,” was all the he said before you attended his request, eager to do so. Pleasure was becoming more predominant by every move, and moans started to drip from your own lips as it did so. Jimin only grunted at the melodious sound, raising his own hips to meet your dry thrusts. “God, you must be so fucking wet right now.”

‘All for you.’

“All for you,” you told him, trying your best to control the desire in your own tone. Jimin whimpered as you moved the angle a bit, hitting a more sensible place. “You like this, Jimin?”

“S-shit yes,” Jimin whined and begged for you to keep moving, overtook by the incredible way you grinded against the bulge on his pants. The pressure was making him see stars, but still far from what he wanted the most. “F-Fuck, (y/n), I can’t—“

“What’s the problem, Jimin?” You teased, your mellifluous voice dancin in his ears. Even that seemed to push him towards his edge, and he caught himself wondering how fantastic you would sound calling out his name as he pounded mercilessly in and out of you, feeling as your walls clenched around him and your juices ran down his length. “Are you gonna cum on your pants?”

The boy whimpered, mindlessly raising his hips to meet your actions. Soon, the erotic way you moved against him would be his downfall, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if he wasn’t even able to remove his pants before he came undone underneath your poisonous touch. “It feels amazing, baby girl. Fuck—”

‘He called you baby girl. How romantic,’ Jennie scoffed, clearly annoyed. ‘Jisoo says we stop for tonight. Lisa says we make him beg… I think I'll side with Lisa for this one. Stop whatever you're doing. Let's see how he reacts.’

Every nerve or you body screamed for you to keep moving, but the neediness plastered across his face gave you strength to do as you were requested. Denying Jimin of his release would not be any close to what he did with your other friends, and you should keep that in mind for as long as you could.

More than that, you should keep in mind that he was still your friend, and that was still a plan.

Jimin cried out as your actions suddenly morphed into nothingness, swollen lips redeemed by the way he had bitten them. “Babe, please,” the boy attempted to bargain, thrusting up in a frivolous try to get some sort of fiction. “Please, baby girl, that felt so good, why did you stop?”

‘I don't think you really want me.’

You took two of your fingers, your nails delicately scratching the soft skin of his lips as you spoke softly. “I don't think you really want me, Jimin.”

Jimin licked his lips, quick to shake his head in denial. His cock was throbbing in his pants, the need inside him causing for him to almost whine out in frustration. “No, baby girl, I need you so fucking bad, please.”

‘Stand up. Say that you don’t believe in him, say that you need proof.’

You chuckled, standing back on your feet — the tingling on your lower abdomen was gradually subsiding, but was still present enough for you to feel the annoyance of your separation, the absence of his heat feeling like torture. “I don't believe you,” you cut his foolish bargains, taking your hands to the hem of your dress. You pulled it down, adjusting it as if nothing had happened. “I need more proof than that, so why don't you show me?”

His face was contoured by submission, eyebrows raised in a mixture of need and slight desperation. “What can I do?” He reached his hands out, placing them on the curvature of your waist. Jimin pulled you towards him once again; but, instead of falling back on his lap, you placed one of your knees on the mattress and kept staying up. “Anything for you, babe.”

‘What a player. No, Chaeyoung, we’re not telling him to fuck off,’ her voice paused for a second, turning into static. Soon, it returned as abruptly as it left. ‘Okay, just be like: if I don't give myself to you tonight, will you still want me this bad tomorrow?’

A light laugh left your lips as you removed his hands from your body, taking a step away from the bed. Lust was plastered all over his features, coruscating inside his eyes as you did so. “I don't know… If I don't give myself to you tonight,” you purred, eyes falling to the bulge on his dark pants. “Will you still want me this bad tomorrow?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jimin groaned, moving his body closer to your own. Once again, you took a step back, acting oblivious to his needs. “I've wanted this for so long now.”

‘Of course would say that. He told me the same thing,’ Jennie spat, and you swore you could see her eyes rolling as she said so. ‘What a hypocrite. You know what? Get out of there, leave him the way he is.’

“Let's see if you're a man of your word, Park,” you provoked, running a hand through your hair. In your lips, the vague impression of his kiss still lingered, but you were forcing yourself to keep strong. In a way, you were actually surprised about the way your voice was coming out steady and confident; aspects that were slowly dissolving as you understood what had just happened. “I'll see you tomorrow. Have a nice night.”

Jimin opened his mouth to argue, but his throat felt dry as you moved towards the passage; opening it with no hesitation. “(Y/n), wait, I'm—”

Before he could finish, the door was already closing again.

All you wanted was to have a normal, tranquil night. Where had it gone so wrong?

Walk of shame had nothing on you. As you moved quickly downstairs, the paranoia inside your head made you think that every breathing being in that house was staring at you, accompanying the rapid movement of your legs while you went straight to the front door. Perhaps it was your own guilt weighing down on you, but suddenly you were not so sure about that entire plan anymore.

To be quite honest, there were some other parts of that night that you did not know how to feel about.

It was quick, almost instantaneous the way your previous confidence had morphed into a profound sense of regret, causing for you to feel your heart growing heavy. Yes, perhaps you were blowing it out of proportion, but the reality of your position crashed on top of you like a huge wave, the undertow dragging you back to the consequences of your impulsive decisions — Jimin was your friend; even if he was a douchebag, he was still your companion.

What have you done?

The cool night air embraced your body the second you stepped out the front door. You crossed your arms in a natural reaction to prevent the icy breeze from reaching you, but soon noticed it was a frivolous act. As the stars flickered beyond the opaque clouds, you removed the earbud, walking towards the dark vehicle like a tornado; ignoring the drunken guests that stumbled around the dew-covered grass.

Almost as if waiting for a cue, the car’s windows lowered, presenting you with four content faces. “Fuck, girl, I knew you had it in you!” Jisoo cheered from the backseat, a big smile shining on her face. “That was great. I felt it in my bones.”

“That was a tragedy,” you groaned, throwing the earpiece through the half open window. From inside the vehicle, you heard Jennie cursing out, complaining how it was an expensive material. “I can't believe this actually happened. My friendship is pretty much over with.”

Lisa chuckled as you sat next to her on the passenger seat, closing the door soon after. “Nothing you can’t fix it later. Besides, don't act as if you didn't like it a tiny bit,” she teased, not actually expecting a response from your part. “Jimin does that. But let's remember that you're in control, all right?”

“Whatever,” you groaned, putting on your seatbelt with more force than necessary. A feeling you could not identify lingered inside your chest as you stared at the booming mansion, an odd part of you wishing you were still in there. “We're done anyways. It was only one night.”

“Done?” Jennie smiled, placing one hand on your shoulder as the car started to move. To your horror, the words you most dreaded to hear dripped from her scarlet lips, freezing your very soul at the prospect they presented. “Oh no, sweetie, that was only phase one. The real plan starts tomorrow.”

[liathgray]

I think Damian is misunderstood on such a fundamental level that it kind of hurts me when people say he’s a bad character, or unsympathetic. And that’s coming from someone who still finds him, at times, super grating. He’s not a favourite of mine but I think it does a disservice to the quality of his character and to those who have similar behaviour patterns. When people call him arrogant and a brat they are not entirely wrong but they are painfully oversimplifying a really complex individual.

He was raised in an environment which violence, aggression and intimidation was rewarded and any form of affection or positivity was punished. He, LITERALLY FROM THE WORD GO, was conditioned to feel entitlement and away washed was any semblance of his own identity; he was the heir to the shadows. Not a person, a contingency. A replacement for an immortal ruler. He felt useless and sought any type of approval available.

Because of this he has, and will continue to have, an understandably hard time adjusting to a setting wherein compassion and free thought are the appreciable factors.

A setting where the people around him love him unconditionally and do not base his worth off of fighting skills. When he argues, fights, yells, bullies his friends and family, it is not out of malice. It is the only way he has ever been taught to show emotion and it’s his way of trying to earn respect and love. Damian grew up with affection being withheld as a punishment, and suddenly its readily available with no prerequisite to attaining it.

Talia didn’t love him.

And I know it seems obvious to say that but really think dor a minute.

She used, abused and manipulated him into doing what she wanted that went directly against any semblance of caring for her son whom she assaulted another human to create. Think about that for five seconds and tell me it’s a surprise Damian is so opposed to feeling anything that could possibly be condemned as weak.

His mother treats him like an object. A means to an end.

He was her tool, and was expected to act as such.

That is bound to give someone emotional whiplash. He bleeds a desire for acceptance and approval but only knows one way to get it; combat.

No one save Dick (pre-52 at that) thought to explain or show this severely traumatized kid that emotion was a good thing to have.

Now kindly consider the fact that upon being brought into Gotham, people don’t react in the same way to how he would normally prove himself. They don’t give him the praise he’d normally received for that behaviour and thus, understandable, he pushes it harder because to him, it must be because he has yet to prove his value.

Even after he does start to learn that his fighting abilities are not his person, his worth, its still gonna be hard to cut those habits away. Think of it this way: we’ve all grown up being taught to smile when we’re happy. Now imagine suddenly you’re not supposed to do that. That suddenly a smile is akin to a death threat. It would be awful hard to regulate that instinct since it’s been there literally forever.

Damian suffered betrayal after betrayal from his own family, even after dedicating himself wholly to them in every way possible.

And they abandoned him. And I don’t just mean Ra’s and Talia.

Bruce fucked off into another era, Tim practically rejected him out of spite, Jon left and Dick faked his death.

How the hell can people say that he has no right to be angry, or reason to jump to aggression?

No one can erase the damage done to them as children.

And it will never go away.

There are times when, on a mental level, one needs to surrender themselves to a base instinct or overwhelming amount of fear will rise from some buried trauma.

People fail to remember that Damian IS the legacy character.

He’s a combination of Al Ghul and Wayne families; powerhouses of skill and control.

Hummmm.... wonder what that could lead to, the kind of expectations a child forced into adulthood from the second he could speak will place upon himself.

Hey here’s a thought maybe binaries are a dumb idea especially in fiction whose purpose is to explore the gray zone of humans; nothing is ever simply enough to split in two.

Emotionally conflicted while later unsympathetic to the status quo that ruined his sense of humanity Damian Wayne is a character built from selfishness and cold indifferent yet manages to be disarmingly powerful and magnetically entertaining in the moments that matter. Heroes are gray sometimes. Keep up.

[awfully-sadistic]

Week 2: Oct 8th

The Adventures of Dot and Dodger A series of linear prompt one-shots.

Yesterday, I gave myself a time frame in which to complete my chapter. I didn’t make it but I got close. And technically, yesterday’s chapter wasn’t complete so here’s part two.

--

The relief on Stephen’s face was short-lived. He welcomed the reprieve but it usually wasn’t good when Nick Fury put in an appearance on just any conversation. Perhaps he wanted to convey the gravity of the situation and despite Stephen being able to do it himself, he didn’t want to be scrutinized under Dot’s heavy gaze any longer. Reminiscent of a mother’s gaze, Stephen felt censure, disappointment. He realized early in on the conversation that he was finding it difficult in being able to turn his head to catch her gaze and had started to avoid it. A curious feeling the Doctor would be discovering later, he was sure, but what he wasn’t sure was why the effect was so profound. Did it have to do with her empathetic abilities? Was she broadcasting her own that even he was susceptible? Further, did she know that she could manipulate feelings or influence them? He found it hard to believe someone as compassionate as Dot would be abusing her abilities out of malice. He had concluded that she must have been doing it subconsciously. Whatever the reason, it was like a heavy weight had been lifted onto his shoulders when Fury made his presence known.

It was bad enough Stephen felt like he was backing this trio into a corner, he simply couldn’t deceive them anymore. The underhanded, roundabout way Dot, Dodger, and Armand had been dragged into this situation have been S.H.I.E.L.D.’s tactics; they were paranoid for a reason and apparently Fury had every reason to believe everything could and would be compromised given the chance. Everything they executed had a reason whether or not Stephen agreed with it; from Stephen being their first client to this dinky little task of retrieving a Cursed Item. Tests of mettle, of resolve, to see if these two (now three) really wanted to make a difference in their world.

He may have taken it upon himself to become the acting guardian for this earth and that responsibility doubled as soon as it became apparent that pulling these two worlds apart could be the end of both, but that didn’t mean leaving its inhabitants in the dark even if they often didn’t know what was good for them. In addition to this, it was challenging finding the right representatives in a world so “primitive” compared to theirs; compared to Earth-616, this planet’s history was incredibly new, still reeling from the effects of a war hundreds of years ago. Stephen was not as naïve to know this was their planet, too. These three should also decide which direction it should take as with the rest of its inhabitants. Something Nick would be explaining for them and once in a while, this great Sorcerer Supreme would step back to allow another power as commanding as he to take the spotlight and dish out the heavy hits. Stephen would input his two cents as needed but for the most part would lend his support to the conversation.

As expected, Dot and Dodger had their attention on the new addition to their conversation. A tall, commanding character who seemed to wear nothing but black and a trench coat donned an eyepatch that completed the ensemble. In fact, he looked like  villain instead of a superhero. Due to his description alone, Dot had an inkling on who this figure was but she didn’t want to assume. Even the Agency’s intel on S.H.I.E.L.D. was murky at best and she had a good idea why. It was a miracle the Agency even had knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. existed. But then again, she had no idea how dated the material had been. She was beginning to see that there was little she knew about 616 the more she learned about it. She didn’t feel too bad though; apparently she hardly knew the affairs of 6969, too. She would soon learn though that this was not through any fault of hers.

“What do you mean there’s another reason you focused on us?” Dodger asked, a complete word-for-word phrasing parroted back to the mysterious agent.

“I said what I said, don’t make me start repeating myself, son.” Fury snapped. He sounded like he had little time for nonsense and his reply startled Dodger enough that it made him jerk his head back, deliberating a slow blink and then another as a look of disbelief crossed his features.

“I thought that was a pretty reasonable question to ask,” Dodger challenged. “you come in out of nowhere and lay this cryptic message on our laps like we’re supposed to know what to do with it from there.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Clint.” Fury pointed out, walking further into the room. He pulled up a chair from a nearby desk and sat down. “And that’s not a compliment.” Fury didn’t allow Dodger any room to reply, even if he had wanted to, because he took control of the conversation as soon as he had settled. “The affairs between Humans and Supernaturals, as you people are fond of classifying the entire thing, has had trickling effects leaking into Earth-616 for some time now. Now, we already went through this shit many times in the past but our version of Supernaturals are called Mutants. We ain’t talkin’ about Bigfoot or Nessy, but to compare, they’re like humans who evolved due to a genetic trait. These humans mutate and develop superhero powers as soon as they hit puberty. Instead of Humans vs. Supernaturals as it is here, it became humans vs. mutants when we come from. We’ve come from many situations where we’ve been in your shoes before and sometimes, even superheros get involved. We ain’t perfect but it certainly ain’t helping that we seem to be repeating history if Earth-6969 doesn’t clean up its act soon.

The Human vs. Supernatural debate sparked a whole renewed interest for those on my planet with a bone to pick and we got some key player sore losers over here. We’re beginning to see that shit like this doesn’t die easily even if we’ve turned over every rock and squashed the opposition and it’s becoming even clearer now that innocent people will get thrown into the mix, even if they have nothing to do with being a mutant. Just exhibiting powers alone is enough to earn people’s scorn.”

“Why does it matter so much to those on your planet about the affairs of our people?” Dot asked. Her mouth was turned down in a frown, her eyebrows pinched in the middle with worry. Hearing about the differences between the biases on the two planets didn’t seem all that different to her when put into perspective like this. But it confused her as to why people from 616 are using 6969’s turmoil as a reason to act out their own hatred.

“They just need any reason,” Fury stated, settling his one good eye on Dot. A chocolate hue that matched the ebony shade of his skin. “any reason at all to get their means to an end.”

“Those people sound like villains.” Dot said, meeting Fury’s gaze. “What kind of people are we talking about? People is too broad of a word. Are they villains?”

“As much as politicians can be,” Fury cracked, sounding sarcastic rather than funny. “Unfortunately, these are people in seats of power. People with pull and money that can make things happen.”

“As much as a corrupt government as ours then,” Dodger mused.

“Pretty much. Except that we’re seeing that your government is being heavily swayed by these people in power to crack down on the Supernatural affairs of this world. I believe you started to see the fruits of a certain mayor who elected a certain new Chief in the Agency’s seat?”

“Well, we knew Aldric was a plant and the mayor has some questionable motives he wants to set in motion for the Supernaturals. We didn’t think it’d go anywhere…” Dot said, sounding thoughtful. Maybe a little fearful, too. “Now I’m thinking I should probably take another look at some of his policies he wanted to set into action.”

“But… he’s just one person, right?” Armand asked, turning his head towards Dot and Dodger. “What harm could one mayor do that others will not try to put a stop to?”

“The mayor can actually do a lot even if he’s not blatantly committing criminal acts. I think this works like in 616, too.” Dodger began, turning to cast an inquisitive glance at Fury and Stephen. “The mayor of a city is responsible for implementing legislation passed by a council. They have substantial pull on what occurs in a city and have vetoing powers and the ability to hire or fire staff, such as our old Chief. Our Ashbourne is a big city. A major hub that the Agency mainly works out of; kind of like their Washington, D.C. except our Washington is a wooded land area that has no significant events attached to it because our history is different. Aside from running the city, our mayor does have a lot of influence when it comes to convincing our senators to act upon something that could find its way to Congress and before you realize it, could be passed into law.”

“That’s if he’s smart enough to make the prospect bills he’s proposing look harmless enough to fool everyone into thinking he’s doing it for the good of the State.” Dot added. “A lot of bills get passed into laws that have specifically worded phrases that can mean different things. It’s tricky and underhanded.”

“Even our laws has carefully worded clauses like that,” Fury pointed out. “politics is a dirty game. You have to be smart to play it and even smarter to pull bullshit out of your hat and feed it to everyone to convince them that this is a good idea. So yeah, I’d say some politicians make great villains.”

“We’ve established that governments on both sides can be corrupt,” Stephen interrupted, “but I don’t believe we’ve delved into the scale of how corrupt.”

Fury made a noise of agreement. “To be blunt, we suspect that some 616 politicians are also occupying seats in 6969. We can’t tell for sure who belongs on which planet if people start migrating over but that is something we try to prevent simply for the balance. Sure, we can allow people to start moving back and forth, the earths are two gigantic ass places. Who would not be tempted to? And for the most part, we share a lot of similarities but that also means our resources are not the same. If we allow people to start zapping back and forth between planets, things can get messy. You guys are familiar with the Dovir technology debacle a few years ago?”

Dot and Dodger nodded but Armand shook his head. Fury explained.

“Because Aliens tried taking over your world, you’ve sustained the most damage out of this Great War a long ass time ago. A lot of people were killed and your world was nearly annihilated. But that means all of their technology is located here. Even with a few pieces scattered from 616, that is nothing compared to the landmine you guys are sitting on. It’s also made great strides in terms of advancement for your planet, but eventually, people on 616 got too greedy and wanted some of that too especially after seeing what it could do to bolster our own tech thanks to a certain asshole in his tower, experimenting with this shit. Though I’ll be the first to admit, S.H.I.E.L.D. has benefitted from Dovir technology since the settlement. But that ain’t good enough for some other people.

If you guys have Dovir technology, what other hidden gems do you have that you might not be aware of? That’s just one whispering throughout the ears of many men in seats of power. You can see where I’m going with this, right?”

Armand nodded as did Dot but it was Dodger who answered, “You want to prevent people from easily traveling across realms in order to profit from either planet. In order to do that, you need a power that puts a check into place that holds the governments back from going too far.”

Fury looked impressed or as much as one could with a stoic expression and an eyepatch. “Exactly. But in this case, we just need someone to rival the Agency at the moment. This organization is almost like the counterpart of S.H.I.E.L.D. as in it has a lot more pull than you realize and it’s essentially the only thing in power with the authorization to do something about the Supernaturals. Unlike S.H.I.E.L.D., its brand spanking new and eager to please. However, unlike the Agency, S.H.I.E.L.D. cannot move into 6969 territory without looking like the planet is going under an occupation.

That would be where you guys come in.”

“But, we’re just a couple of people who wanted to start our own business…” Dot argued. “we don’t know about saving the world or espionage, I barely knew the affairs of this planet and that’s because you just told me.”

“Then we’ll teach you. And we’ll continue to guide you.” Stephen offered.

“We don’t even have a full staff. It’s just the three of us.”

Fury leveled his stare on Dot, “And I was just a guy that got shot and spent my ass recovering in a bed, with only two of my best people working with me at the time.”

“Are you insinuating that Dot is going to get shot?” Dodger asked.

“I’m saying you can do it with just three people and you can hire more along the way. Everything has been set into motion for you guys. All you have to do is step up to the plate.”

Dot and Dodger exchanged glances; meaningful, pensive, thoughtful. Dot sighed, running a hand through her curly hair, scratching her scalp before letting it fall to her side. “I think we need more time. At least, to process this information. Frankly, I don’t think you’re giving us much of a choice to say no, but… can we at least have the time to process this?”

It was Stephen and Fury’s turn to exchange glances. It was Stephen who nodded and looked at the trio on the couch, “Of course.”

But Fury didn’t seem finished. He stood up like he was but he was still talking, “Don’t take too long. You’re the only ones who have shown the promise and initiative to undertake this first step to really get things off the ground. It’s a lot, but are you willing to sit by and let this all happen? You branched away from the Agency for a reason, Dot.” he was trained on her now and she was surprised by the sudden finger-pointing. “You wanted to make a difference. I know a whole hell of a lot of people on 616 who would have been in your shoes and would have made the same choice. But the difference between my planet and yours is that you were the only one, first among your kind here, that did. And that’s saying a lot already.”

Dot stood silent as she watched Doctor Strange and Fury leave their office space. Whatever intimidating aura they had, they took with them leaving the room bereft in their wake. It was an odd feeling, knowing that so much fell on her shoulders already without saying she agreed.

“I know I’m going to,” Dot said absently, still staring at the door leading out to the waiting area. “I’m going to agree and say I want to help. I want to make the difference I set out to achieve. But, I’m …kind of scared.”

“We’re not heroes.”

“I know. We’re not but…” Dot paused to face Dodger, her face an unreadable expression that Dodger had a hard time placing. It was why he was taken by surprise by her next statement, “I want to be.”

Tuesday, October 8th was a dreary day. It seemed the sun was hidden behind cloudy weather but couldn’t decide whether it wanted to rain despite the sun never making an appearance. Dot thought idly how great this weather was for telling spooky stories but couldn’t decide which was spookier—the stories or the fact that their planet seemed to be heading down a path that’d lead them to another civil war among themselves.

It didn’t take long for a ray of sunshine to make an appearance. Armand was cleaning his receptionist area when a woman came in, taking a seat in the open area of the waiting room. Armand paused in his cleaning, eyes growing wide as he looked around to see if anyone had been witnessing what he was seeing. A client, right? This was a client, wasn’t it? Armand threw his dust rag over his shoulder and tried to discreetly sit in his seat as if he’d been like that all along.

He picked up a clipboard that had nothing on it, pretending to write something down while sneaking a glance at the woman whose eyes were searching the television screen. She sat primly and proper, back straight that after noticing it, Armand tried to mimic. She was dressed smartly, like an office lady. She wore a two-piece blazer and a pencil skirt the color of dark charcoal. Her legs were incredibly long and well-toned ending on black wedges with an inch-long heel. She held something in her hand, fingers long and dexterous with a French-tip manicure. Her hair was styled in a short bob, the color of honey-blonde. Her head swiveled to catch Armand’s gaze, locking him in place with eyes that seemed as gray as the weather outside. He looked like a deer in headlights, caught that he had been staring.

“W-Welcome to Dot and Dodger, Supernatural Investigations.” He welcomed, trying to cover up that he had been a curious onlooker, trying to imagine himself in the same outfit. “Can I help you?” he asked, eyes flicking on the screen as D.A.D. fed him a script to read from. D.A.D. flashed the thumbs up emoji before the screen went blank.

The woman stood up from her seat and walked over. Her heels made an impressive clack, clack, clack sound and Armand had to hold himself back from peering over the counter to watch them. She slid the piece of paper she was holding onto the top of the counter. She had what could be considered a triangle shaped face with high cheekbones and thickly, arch-shaped brows. A smokey appearance, almost. She had a stern looking face when she wasn’t smiling, but she smiled here. “I’d like to apply for a job if you have any openings.”

Armand’s mouth opened and he gaped, eyes darting back to his computer screen. There was a stick figure on screen who shrugged before it flashed “CALL DOT OR DODGER OVER” as a suggestion. That was immediately what he had done.

Dot didn’t know what to expect when Armand rounded the corner looking really flustered and stuttering about the lady in the waiting room. But she understood completely when she entered the room and saw for herself. She always expected to tower over women in the streets but this was a surprise; their visitor was almost two heads taller than Dot. That was good because the heels had been giving her extra height. The woman then held out her hand, indicating that she was, “Evi Senft. I’m wondering if there’s an opening here. I’d like to apply for a job. I brought my résumé.”

Dot gaped, first sticking her hand in Evi’s (from which she had a very impressive handshake) and then taking the résumé from her to gloss over. Dot was tempted to hire her on the spot despite not knowing what she was applying for. It was a good thing Dodger had shown up. Standing behind her, he startled Dot by asking, “What’s your experience in this field of work?”

“It should all be there in the résumé.”

Dodger’s gaze didn’t waver, “But I’m asking you.”

Evi smiled, not phased by his heavy stare or the semi-challenging way he phrased his statement. She focused on Dot, though, as she spoke. “I’m an accountant. I don’t want to assume but I take it you don’t have anybody to handle the financial aspects of your business? I can do the taxes and take care of the budget if you were looking for anyone to take care of simple stuff like that. I can also do complex tasks if you’d prefer, anything to help run your business efficiently in terms of number crunching.”

“Taxes and budgeting is simple to you?” Dot said with amazement. “I just always have Dodger do my tax related things. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Yes, indeed.” Dodger looked down at the top of Dot’s head who was still focused on Evi. Then he turned his gaze onto the woman in question. “If I’m already doing the taxes and budgeting for the company, what else could you offer that I’m not doing already?”

Dot nudged Dodger in the ribs since he was right there. “Don’t be rude. She’s qualified to do math stuff like this.”

“There’s no downside to hiring me,” Evi stated. Now she seemed to be challenging Dodger. “I have no doubt you could continue doing the budgeting and taxes for your company but how much more efficient would it be to leave that to me so you could focus on subjects that would need your attention with one less thing on your plate?”

“She has a point,” Dot pointed out, turning around to give Dodger a grin. “That’d leave you to a lot more free time if you just let someone else worry about the expenses every once in a while. Free time you can dedicate to the cases we get in the future.”

“I would be more than glad to accommodate including you into anything I record, sort, or discover as your assistant. I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with government agency records processing data. If anything, I’d be more of a benefit than a hindrance.”

Dodger had gently pulled the résumé from Dot’s grasp to studying it for himself. With Dot backing Evi already, he had a feeling he knew where the decision rested. But he still wanted to make sure for himself in case anything stuck out in the résumé that Evi might have been able to say in this particular line of questioning. But so far, everything he saw was a impressive and he had no reason to turn her down. He gave the résumé to Dot.

“You might be too overqualified to work here.” he gave in.

“But I do want to work here,” Evi pointed out. “if you were honestly considering me.”

“Of course we are!” Dot interrupted, giving Evi her best grin. “Don’t listen to Dodger, he’s just territorial when it comes to his stuff. But this will be a good fit, you’d make a great addition to the company!”

Evi looked relieved, her stern features relaxing. “Does that mean I’m hired?”

“Absolutely!” Dot said, handing the résumé back. She usually praised herself for her judgement in people and Evi was giving off no warning signs, no red flags, or bad feelings that there was something off about her. It probably didn’t help that Dot was attracted to her and that may have clouded her judgement just a teeeeeny tiny bit, but she was more excited over the prospect of hiring an employee! “Uh, we’ll have you start tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly fine. I honestly hadn’t considered I’d be interviewed on the spot but I’m glad it turned out this way.”

“There’s still the manner of sitting down with you on an official capacity and sorting out payrate and the like,” Dodger pointed out, bringing Dot back to the business aspect of hiring people. “of course, afterwards, I’ll go over with you our budget and tax returns. Anything else related to our business in terms of account management.”

Dot perked up, “Oh! Oh! I’ll work to clearing out one of these rooms and you can have your own office!”

Evi looked to be a bit overwhelmed, “My own office? I’m just starting out, is that okay?”

Armand smiled, seated in his receptionist area. “This is my office and I started a few days ago.”

Dot laughed, coming around to Armand’s space just so she could hug him around the neck. It always prided her that he seemed so proud in his responsibility and he was doing such a great job being the best little receptionist he could. “That’s absolutely right. This is completely Armand’s office.”

Evi watched the two, her features softening a smidgen. It seemed to comfort the thought of obtaining her own office on her first day—starting tomorrow—and the conversation was soon eased into another topic.

“How did you hear we were hiring, anyway?” Dodger asked as the thought struck him. “We haven’t put any ads in the paper yet. Or made any other circulation in the job fair industry.”

“I was referred here,” Evi admitted. “somebody at the Agency sent me this way.”

Dot spoke too soon. A red flag went up as soon as Evi finished her statement.

“Someone… at the Agency sent you to work for us?”

“I had applied at the Agency and was denied,” she added.

This came as a startle to both Dot and Dodger. Dot was the one who asked, “Who on earth would deny these specs?” she indicated the résumé she assumed was impressive enough to win over Dodger.

Evi laughed, “For much the same reason Mr. Mac Alister gave me. I was too overqualified.”

Dodger said, “…I guess that makes sense. That’s not quite unusual to hear. Sometimes people have to dumb down their applications in order to get a job but… I thought the Agency accepts basically anybody that shows promise.”

“Well, the Agency has its rejects too.” Dot stated with contempt. Evi and Dodger glanced over, surprised at the tone in her voice. She sounded personally betrayed. Dodger looked sympathetic as Dot continued, “It’s not unusual at all. We should just put it out there that we’ll be willing to welcome the Agency’s rejects.”

“I’ve never considered myself a reject before,” Evi started. “but it doesn’t sound like too bad a position to be if this is where I end up.”

Dot smiled, genuinely.

By the time Evi left, Dot had a lot more to think about. Before she had a chance to touch down on it, though, Fury walked into their office. Sans Stephen, this time.

“I hope you’ve come to terms with what we’ve asked of you. I’d hate to have made the trip all the way down here for nothing.”

Dot turned around from the fridge as Fury filled the breakroom’s door. She took in a deep breath, calming her heart before saying, “I really hope you’re not talking to me in that tone, Mr. Nicholas Fury.”

Fury surprised her by chuckling, taking a seat across from her as she sat down with her lunch. “I’ll admit you’re the only one who can seem to match me in a stern enough tone to make me think over my own. But I’m seriously asking you. Have you?”

“Would you have really given us the choice if we wanted to opt out?” Dot countered. Her meal sat untouched and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to be able to eat until this conversation was over.

“No. But you’re not going to, are you?”

Dot sighed; a deep breath in and a long breath out. “I just wanted to be a quiet little nobody who occasionally broke into people’s homes and did some detective work.”

“You can still do those things.” Fury stated which caused Dot to look up at him with an expression filled with sarcasm. “We’re not asking you to become this huge movement. You can still do your private eye thing but you’re working with us. Think of it like, scratching my back and I’ll scratch yours. We’re each other’s eyes and ears on our respective planets, a partnership.”

“But your organization is attached to your government; how does that weed out the corruption if we’re doing as you’re swaying us to do? We’re more or less okayed by the government to be our own business but we don’t really work for them but on a lesser scale. I mean, …right?”

Fury saying nothing didn’t reassure her. Dot tried another angle, “…I thought you said this was a partnership.”

It was Fury’s turn to sigh. “We’re still working things out. The people I answer to don’t know I’m setting this kind of thing up. And the government you’re sanctioned with, the government you know, don’t know you’re doing anything either.”

“I can see the logic in that, I think, but what happens if this blows up in our faces.”

“It can’t.”

“But it could.”

“It just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because we can’t fail.”

Dot was beginning to see what sort of person Nick Fury was as she stared at him from across the table. He was so adamant on this idea, he was almost desperate. She was beginning to feel like the reluctant hero trope.

“Alright. We can agree to being a part of this… whatever you’re calling this—”

“The Avengers Initiative.”

Dot’s eyes widened, “Didn’t you already do that on your planet?”

Fury shrugged, “It’s like a side B.”

“This isn’t a cassette tape.”

“I’ll work on the name,” Fury said, dismissing the issue. It was clearly something he was still working on and unknown to Dot, he just said the first thing that popped in his mind. He continued, “Anyway, on the basis that you’d agree—”

“Even though we had no choice—”

“On the basis that you’d do what I said ‘cause I said it, I’m going to give you your first mission.” He ignored the look Dot was giving him, for his own good or otherwise was to be determined, to reach into his trench coat and slide a file across the table at her. “I can’t always meet up with you like this so some missions are going to be handed down by Doctor Strange with that handy two-way dimensional teleport thing you guys got goin’ on in one of your rooms around here.”

Dot eyed the file but she didn’t touch it. Not yet. She still had attitude on her face from Fury’s previous retort, “If we’re going to be partners, I hope you can expect the same level of sass I’m going to be giving you right back, Mr. Bossypants.”

A grin spread across Fury’s face, clearly enjoying the banter. “Now I’m going to have to take some time to think this over.”

Dot shook her head good-naturedly as she watched Fury stand up. He walked to the breakroom’s door and barely got around the corner when Dot heard, “What the—what god-awful demon possessed you to wear that?”

Dot was curious, pushing her food away to stand and peer around the corner. She had to laugh out loud—Armand was dressed in an office lady outfit, much like Evi had been wearing earlier. He must have raided her closet and that’s what he had been doing this entire time. She could see that while nothing was wrong with his outfit, Armand had tried to do his make-up like Evi’s—except he didn’t know how to apply make-up on his face. It was caked on in a thick layer with dark rings around his eyes and dark blush that hollowed out his cheeks. To top it off, he had very angry looking eyebrows and apparently startled Fury on his way out.

“What?” Armand asked, looking around. “Don’t I look chic?”

[iatheia]

Der Tod comparison

I don’t want to count how many times I’ve seen Elisabeth at this point, over the years, and last three months specifically. Several dozens. And one thing that never keeps stopping amazing me is just how different most of them are from each other, not even just in terms of the score, but also the character interpretation.

Well, not all characters. Real historical characters are somewhat more confined to the canon. Poor FJ almost never has any room to grow in any way that doesn’t involve facial hair - he is the most static one of them all between the different performances. Dear old Sophie ranges on the scale from “less evil” to “more evil”. Rudolf could have more or less agency in his actions, more or less aware of the manipulation happening behind the scenes, more or less willing to go along with it. Lucheni could be more or less sane, more or less of a puppetmaster of this musical, more or less malicious in his treatment of the rest of the cast. Our titular character, Sisi, can be more or less childish, more or less of an active participant of her own misery, more or less welcoming of the affections that are bestowed upon her.

There are definitely more than a few standout performances among them, both individually and cast-wide, performances that forced me to pay attention to them, to make a double-take, to appreciate the complexities of the characters time and time again. But I never go into a production not knowing who these characters are, what is supposed to make them tick.

With Der Tod, all of it flies out of the window. Every time I find myself asking, “well, who are you supposed to be this time?” And after all, you are dealing with a personification of death here as a main character, how could anyone agree how that should be portrayed? Almost every actor does take this role into a different direction, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not.

I’ve been itching to do a comparison between them for quite a while. This is not an exhaustive list. I still haven’t seen a few casts, few others to my disappointment I legitimately have nothing to say, because they are bland, unoriginal and inconsistent (and it is to my great regret that the only live performance I’ve seen has to fall into this category). This comparison is also largely reliant on the initial impressions of whatever recording I’ve seen these actors in first. In some cases, the portrayal can and does evolve, especially if they’ve been at a role for a while. Sometimes the things that catch the eye may not necessarily be what they were going for, so these are just my impressions of them. So, without further ado.

Uwe Kroger - The closest to being a concept, an idea of death, not a physical being, but omnipresent, touching every aspect of people's lives.

Ichiro Maki - Definitely heavily inspired by Uwe, but much more stilted, emotionless, not terribly suited for the romantic portrayal Takarazuka is aiming for. People die sooner or later, death doesn't particularly care about how you feel about it.

Asaji Saki - Very vocally challenged, this Tod. Some apparently like her voice, but it is definitely not for the weak of heart. But this is the most romantic portrayal of the character out of everyone. Der Tod who has just experienced the love for the first time before coming to terms with it in the middle of second act. Quite precious.

Shizuki Asato - the biggest Der Tod who ever todded, outtodding absolutely everyone in terms of the gravitas and the singing ability. Even more otherworldly than Ichiro's performance from two years ago, although with a much greater success. There isn't a shred of emotion, she is just, well, death, who will always get what is due to it.

Hanano Sumire - beautiful, powerful, and surprisingly... malicious. I don't think I felt that much malice from any other version. For the first time involvement of this character with the general populace and the revolutionaries made sense to me. This is not a death in an abstract sense, this is a spirit of crumbling empire, perfectly content to toy with those who will bring its destruction. She is in no hurry, and is just as happy with the chase itself.

Szabo Szilveszter - a fancy aristocrat. Despite somewhat alien looks (and sparkles worthy of any Takarazienne), a very humanistic portrayal of the character. Very passionate, but quite snarky.

Yuichiro Yamaguchi - he is a monument. Very powerful voice that is worthy of an opera singer that would be able to kill absolutely everyone, and a lot of physical presence, but absolutely no dynamical portrayal. He would stand there. Then he would walk. Then he would stand again. A few times he would attempt to rock his heart out during while there was absolutely zero singing, but only barely. Poor Rudolf had to turn under his own arm - there wasn't even an attempt to jerk him around. It was legitimately heart-wrenching.

Ayaki Nao - a beautiful and enchanting seductress who wanted nothing more than to be wanted by others. Everyone. Within a ten mile radius. Regardless of age, gender, sexual preference. Most do. She is willing to take the time to persuade the ones that do not to make them see that falling into her embrace is the right and proper thing to do. The seduction is the goal in itself, and the moment her conquest finally give in is something to be savored. Most feminine out of all the other Tods, even by Takarazuka standards.

Mate Kamaras - everything about this Tod is the toxic masculinity personified. Dragging others according to his whims, assaulting them physically. Very rough around the edges.

Christoph Goetten - we shall not talk about him. Him being shirtless singing Wenn Ich Tanzen Will horrified me beyond belief (admittedly, it was during a rehearsal? But they still felt compelled to include it on video. Those bastards.)

Mizu Natsuki - definitely can see the influence from Mate Kamaras. Very masculine Der Tod, or rather, he is a boy who doesn't understand what the word "no" means and refuses to learn.

Sena Jun - a very lonely Tod. She is seemingly moving from scene to scene asking anyone who would be willing to listen if they want to be her friend. With Tiny Rudolf it's not a promise, it's a plea, a cry for help.

Mark Seibert - very smooth. Take the Moon, shrink it down to the size of a billiard ball, that's how smooth we are taking about. Underneath it all, it's just a very (very) polished version of Mate until you achieve all that smoothness.

Kim Junsu - a self absorbed fop who accidentally wandered into the underworld, and declared himself the king of it. The angels decided to go along with it just for a laugh, everyone else are just confused.

Park Hyo Shin - No other Tod is as into their Elisabeth as this one is, and he doesn't quite know what to do about all this thirst. I want to see a full version of his portrayal to see if he does figure it out in the end, but so far, alas.

Asumi Rio - a Tod that doesn't doubt his own irresistibility, not for a second. Somewhat self-absorbed. She already knows the end result. She knows that she is wanted, even if her prey is too coy to say it, or they will sooner or later.

Asaka Manato - something of a mix of a doting parent and someone who didn't sign up for any of it, I suppose?

Yoshio Inoue - most ephemeral. The only Tod that made me convinced that he wasn't really there, that he doesn't exist. That he is all just a figment of Elisabeth's and Rudolf's imaginations. A shared fantasy, or rather, madness.

Shirota Yu - Alien, otherworldly, completely devoid devoid of any human values. He tries to imitate human behavior for his amusement, it turns into a caricature of humanity almost immediately. Instills terror with his mere presence. Natural at mind control. I need to write about this version in more details later on, but this is certainly the most original take on the character in a decade.

Continued in Part 2

[kiruuuuu]

More recruitverse in which Ivan is actually nice! (Rating T, nothing but fluff, ~2.2k words) - written for @nutbrain​ because you inspire, encourage and support all those around you 💙💙

.

Ivan Ivanovic has been called blind countless times throughout his life, sometimes a variation like deaf or stupid, usually in relation to perceived obliviousness. He’s neither of the three yet sees no trouble in letting others believe he is – after all, their assumptions about him reveal more about their personalities than his.

He learnt early on that some of the facts taught to children in good faith are nothing but propaganda, a desirable yet unattainable outcome, merely a way to try and manipulate them into ‘goodness’. He’s unable to help everyone so he doesn’t, reduces the situations in which he could help to a simple cost and reward deliberation: when he notices Shay (who quite clearly has his heart in the right place even if his head isn’t on straight) hanging around with the wrong people, he doesn’t interfere; when Jojo gets bullied for something over which he has no control, he stays away; when Valenti becomes a regular scapegoat since he wants to fit in so badly he’d rather take the blame, he doesn’t speak up; and when Gian is alienated and called elitist behind his back because he refuses to partake in activities he feels are unfair to others, he ignores it. None of these scenarios were worth his meddling.

But he also got told that others would come to his aid. That humanity is inherently good. And while he remains conflicted on this notion, he must secretly believe it true or else he wouldn’t be fighting for them. Even so, he remembers digging his own grave by allowing everyone around him to share his happiness, the life he was building with her, and in the process undermined his own credibility. Because when he started telling others of her worrying behaviour, they waved it off. She was so nice, wasn’t she? He was lucky to have her, who cared if she wanted to go through his phone? He shouldn’t have anything to hide, right? And if he did, it was his own fault. And so, eventually no help came. Because he’d been happy so far, hadn’t he? He knew what she was like, and he was probably exaggerating anyway. He shouldn’t throw away years of happiness after one off day, everyone has those, she’s been under a lot of stress recently, right? No? Well, there must’ve been a reason and the reason can’t have been anything other than him.

And then Jojo wouldn’t go away, and he brought three others with him. And Gian listened with more compassion than any of Ivan’s friends and family had done. And Shay treated him as if they’d known each other since they were kids. And Valenti, who normally doubted all his achievements and frequently demanded proof, defended him viciously the moment someone outside of their group did it.

Helping anyone became a lot easier with these four idiots as pay-off.

So no, Ivan isn’t blind. He’d even call himself unusually perceptive, though he doesn’t often act on it which, he assumes, is the reason why his awareness gets insulted, and he doesn’t act on it as it oftentimes requires him to go out of his way for someone who generally isn’t worth his time or effort. But sometimes, the opposite is true.

.

“I got propositioned just now!”, Jojo announces sarcastically proud as soon as he’s breezed into their room, hair still wet from his shower and already wearing clothes fit for sleep.

“Did you reactivate your Grindr account?”, Gian wants to know, being quite aware of the fact that Jojo proclaimed never to use the app ever again, but seeing as it was the third outburst he’s had over it since they’ve known each other, none of them took him seriously. Gian and Valenti only just came back as well from some form of punishment outside, meaning they’re both shivering and dancing on the spot to warm up faster.

Ivan’s arms remember the feel of the Frenchman’s body between them and remind him sharply. He regrets the hug they shared, the entire odd moment really because it leaves him no peace. He thinks back to it at least three times a day and has since tried to stay away from Valenti – and if his presence is unavoidable, then he at least hasn’t touched him again.

“Fuck no, I’d rather rim the devil than go back to that endless void of horny middle-aged creeps.”

“Sounds like you have solid target group at least”, Ivan offers as half-hearted comfort and gets shown a finger in return.

“Tell us, Jojo, who was dumb enough to hit on you while you’re in a mood this rotten?”, Valenti joins their conversation, trying to rub some feeling back into his hands.

“My mood was perfectly fine before that douchenozzle macho fuckboy opened his stupid mouth.”

“Please, your mood has been rotten for days now.”

“That’s not bloody true, why would -”

Wordlessly, they all glance at Shay who’s stretched out on his top bunk, phone in hand and texting away blissfully with a smile on his face. He hasn’t even welcomed Jojo back, let alone acknowledged any of them since he’s started talking to Brittany half an hour ago. By now, even Thatcher must be aware of what’s going on yet the Irishman in their middle remains unsuspecting. He would deserve to be called blind.

“Anyway”, Jojo continues and they all seem relieved at him picking up the thread of the conversation once more, “I ran into Jacob Griffin-Worthington, and as the laws of nature dictate, with a name like Jacob Griffin-Worthington, he had no choice but to be a giant arsehole. So there I was, minding my own business, when Jacob Griffin-Worthington appeared out of nowhere and wanted to know how my love life was going. And I told him it was fantastic, I literally can’t stop sucking dick every free minute I have, so Jacob Griffin-Worthington -”

“I swear, if you say his full name one more time I’m going to tell him you’re crushing on him”, Valenti groans, much to Ivan’s amusement. There’s no love lost between Jacob and any of them.

“- so he who shall not be named suggested I kiss his ass in case my mouth would ever become available again and I said before I voluntarily touch any part of his body, I’d rather -”

Shay produces an odd sound, almost like choking, and this time he notices holding all their attention, looking both flustered and thrilled. “What? It’s nothing. Keep talking.”

“Are you alright?”, Jojo asks, concerned, because as much as he’s pissed off with his best friend for everybody to see, they’re still best friends.

“Yeah, it’s just �� Brit just -” He trails off, looks at his phone screen again briefly and cradles it against his chest once more. “No, it’s fine. What were you talking about?”

“Did she send a nude?” Valenti must’ve noticed Shay’s bright red ears.

“Well, not quite, but – almost. She’s so pretty.” Another glance. The red darkens. “Jojo, do you want to see? I’m only showing Jojo, before you ask, everything else would be weird.”

“It’s weird enough showing me”, Jojo murmurs and rolls his eyes, “but alright. Let’s see the goods.”

And while the two stick their heads together to marvel at Shay’s girlfriend at the one end of the room, Valenti and Gian exchange a few exasperated looks at the other. For the moment, Ivan returns to tapping away at his phone, learning all about castling while simultaneously keeping his ears open for fragments of conversations in case anything interesting comes up again.

“Did you not own a scarf?”, Gian addresses Valenti questioningly.

“Ah, curses, you’re right. If it’s gone, Bandit must’ve taken it. I’m telling you, we need to take him down, truce or not, he offered me another brownie the other day and I bet it wasn’t a normal one.”

“Perhaps we could try to endeavour not to instigate trouble for which we suffer the same consequences as Bandit does for his pranks.”

“So what you’re saying is: we shouldn’t get caught again.”

Gian’s deep sigh doesn’t cover up Shay’s quiet ‘you smell nice’ to Jojo and if Ivan wasn’t already busy googling something all of a sudden, he’d attempt to send Jojo some telepathic sympathy.

.

Getting away from the others isn’t difficult for Ivan, he merely needs to threaten with additional exercise and they drop out, and even on the occasions Valenti doesn’t, he can tire him out easily and then sneak away while the Frenchman is busy trying to breathe. He rarely makes use of this way to distance himself, yet sometimes needs a bit of time alone without having to justify himself and sometimes just so he can browse the shops in town. Wholly being in charge of his own income is a relatively new concept to him and so he makes a few purchases just because he can. He knows Valenti caught a look at some of his animal socks at some point and watching him struggle with himself about whether or not he should bring them up was extremely entertaining.

In this case, he makes a trip to buy something specific and then pretends to go for a late run that same evening, instead seeking out the only operator in Rainbow of whom he’s certain to receive assistance.

“You’re a recruit, no?”, Zofia asks him as soon as he’s gotten her attention.

“Yes. Ivan Ivanovic. I need your help.”

Admitting it to her is daunting. She possesses a strong presence as well as confidence and reminds him of two women in his life, none of whom he’d like to ever meet again. But where they abused their power over him, Zofia listens to his request willingly, asks a few questions and eventually agrees with a kind smile. Most operators neither have the time nor the patience to deal with any of the recruits’ problems, not even necessarily out of malice – Ivan understands it all too well and therefore doesn’t hold it against them, but it means he appreciates what Zofia’s doing even more. She wants to know why he came to her specifically and laughs when he reveals she just seems the right person for the job, like someone who has the skills he requires.

She goes out of her way to teach him, inspects his work readily and even meets with him secretly during the day for more encouragement. He vows to find out more about her interests so he can pay her back accordingly, but for the moment he’s busy with other things.

.

“Sounds like we’re meeting her tomorrow”, Jojo says over his shoulder as he enters and Ivan makes a conscious effort to arrange his expression into something neutral so he doesn’t give anything away. “Hey, Ivanko, have you heard? Shay wants us to meet his beautiful girlfriend with the differently-sized tits tomorrow.”

“Be nice to her”, Valenti warns him as they swarm out and gather a few supplies in preparation of going out again. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t mention her boobs.”

“Or what, Gian’s going to write me a very stern letter? If she’s a bitch, I’m gonna fling shit back at her. Not that Shay would ever be interested in a bitch, but just in case.”

“Well, he’s friends with you”, comes the mumbled answer which startles a chuckle out of Ivan. Valenti shoots him a quick smile before finally taking notice of the object lying on the blanket of his top bunk. “Oh, what is this?”

“The last fucking thread holding my patience together”, Jojo grumbles in response but looks over nonetheless, squints at the fabric Valenti picks up. Rich dark red is cascading over his hands and nearly reaches the floor on both sides, the material soft yet thick wool. “Looks like a scarf.”

“I recently lost mine, but – Ivan, was this here when you came in?”

He’s hesitant to make eye contact in case he gives himself away but needn’t have worried as Valenti’s attention is still focused on the cloth he’s holding. “Yes”, he says simply.

“Huh. Then I have no idea where it came from. You didn’t buy this for me, did you, Jojo?”

“I would’ve gotten you something more stylish and you know it. Maybe in purple.”

“But this is my favourite colour. I think only Gian knows it is, but I don’t think he can knit. It looks hand-made.”

“Yeah, whatever, just put it on and quit whining about the cold. Do we have everything? Ivanko, you want to watch us ruin our complexion by planting face-first in the snow with our improvised sleighs?”

“Always.” He closes the game app and gets up to put his jacket on, trying not to let his satisfaction show upon seeing Valenti wrapping himself in the scarf with a content expression.

“It’s really warm”, he announces and sinks deeper into the several layers, “and it smells good. Forget whoever might’ve lost it, it’s mine now. Let’s go.”

And while the two lead, rekindling the discussion about Shay’s girlfriend, Ivan follows them with a smile.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Levi was frustrated. He was frustrated with a certain male omega who'd been coughing nonstop in his sleep, yet hadn't woken. Sometimes Eren would moan or mumble in his sleep, but that was as close to waking as he'd come. Sitting by Eren's beside had grown tiresome. There were only so many times he could wipe Eren's fevered brow, or change the sweat soaked sheets, before it grew repetitive. Eren needed to wake the fuck up, and tell him what the fuck was so good about dreaming for so damn long. It was rude and cruel, and Levi had had just about enough rudeness to last him a life time.

 With Eren pulling his sleeping beauty stunt, Levi was left to adjust to things alone. After the first week in the infirmary, the teen had then been moved back to Levi's private quarters. The world didn't stop, just because Eren was sick, and Historia has seemingly abandoned them. Some kind of correspondence would have been appreciated. The teen's pneumonia wasn't getting better, the coughs wracking Eren's frail looking body, while stinking up the space with the sickly-sweet stench of a sick omega. Thanks to his agitation, Levi's had changed, which could only be blamed on Obsydin. His fingernails were now permanently black, and no matter how many times he trimmed his hair, it'd always grow longer as he slept. Aside from that, he found himself hearing voices only to find no one was around, or he'd find himself freezing cold all of a sudden, with no reason at all. If Eren would just wake up already, the omega could tell him what the hell was going on.

    *

Leaving Armin and Hanji watching Eren, Levi was mid-penning another letter to Historia when the sky outside the window darkened. Erwin rushing to the window before he'd even risen from his desk in the sunroom. It wasn't as if Levi liked leaving Eren to sleep alone, but if he didn't keep moving while he still could, he felt as if his chances would only grew smaller as the infection inside of him grew. It'd become harder and harder to stay focused upon paperwork for hours. Each time he grew agitated, the desire to burn the whole lot grew. Growling at Erwin for carelessly rushing to the window, Levi rose from behind his desk, walking over to the man before basically shoving him aside. Gripping the windowsill, he felt an anger swell inside of him at the sight of the dragon outside

"Levi?"

"What the fuck are they doing here?"

"You did write"

"To Historia. That is not Ymir. That's Rod's pet bitch, Maria"

The words came from his mouth without his control. Personally, he didn't actually mind Maria. She'd been of aid in Draecia

"Levi, maybe you should wait here while I greet them?"

"What? So you can bitch to her before they see me? This is my castle, Erwin. You made it this way, so you have no say over my actions"

"That's not it at all. You know you've changed, you know..."

"I am still me. If they're here to wake Eren up, I'm sure as fuck going to make sure they do their jobs"

As Erwin placed his hand on Levi's shoulder, Levi slapped him off. His nails catching across the back of the alpha's hand, tearing through the flesh easily. Looking to the wound with a tinge of guilt, Levi turned away quickly

"Do something about your hand, while I see what they think they're doing here"

 By the time he reached the courtyard, Historia and Maria were there. Historia letting out a small gasp when she set eyes on him. He'd changed, but not that much... Then again, Historia could probably see every little change. Recovering herself, Historia held her head as she and Maria walked across the courtyard

"Prince Erwin, I'm sincerely sorry we couldn't come sooner"

Levi sighed. He wasn't in the mood for politeness

"I suppose you were too busy to come to the aid of someone like Eren. He's near death, you know"

Levi's tone was cold, but Historia didn't shy away

"As I said, I am sorry we couldn't come sooner. As it is, Ymir needed to say behind to keep the peace"

"Rod has been on edge since Obsydin was revived, finding his daughter was pregnant, didn't go over terribly well"

"Maria, this isn't about me. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about the loss of Eren's clutch. I know how much he wanted children with you some day"

So Ymir had gone and knocked Historia up. Good for her... or congratulations... or whatever. It was just something else that he and Eren couldn't have...

"Yes. Well. He's barren, and we can't change that. He's current in my quarters. Hanji or Armin is most likely tending to him"

"You haven't been?"

"There's not much I can do when he won't wake up. I still have a castle and kingdom to manage"

"He's your dragon"

"And he's been like this for weeks. He's still got pneumonia. He's still got wounds that won't heal. He's still stinks of sickness and I have tried everything I can think of to wake him the fuck up. But I still need to keep the castle functioning. I need to keep the kingdom running. I can't sit there and play nursemaid to him, when he obviously doesn't want to wake up"

"Levi. How long have you been like this?"

"Like what?"

"Cold. Eren is your dragon, yet you've left him to suffer alone. He'd never leave your side"

"Don't you think I know that?! But I can't waste my time sitting by his side, all day and everyday"

The castle wasn't going to run its self. The soldiers weren't going to keep in line. The deliveries weren't going to magically keep running smoothly without the quality and quantity being triple checked before payment was made. He couldn't just stop replying to correspondence

"I understand. Please show us through to Eren"

 Erwin hadn't stayed put in the sunroom, like he was supposed to. Hanji and Armin had left, while the blond alpha was standing at the end of Levi's bed. Glaring at the man, Erwin ignored him

"Historia. Thank you for coming. We've all been worried about Eren"

"Thank you for having us. Maria and I can't stay very long, my father hasn't been himself since Obsydin... well, you know. But I couldn't turn my back on Eren"

"Our mages say his magic isn't healing him, and he's still suffering from pneumonia"

Who was Erwin, to be talking about Eren like they were on good terms?!

"I can feel his pain. Maria, can you help me here? I need to examine him"

"Is there anything I can do?"

Levi snorted

"You've got one arm. Just how do you intend to help?"

"Ignore him. He's been an absolute arsehole of late"

"Erwin, know your place. You should be in the sunroom dealing with the correspondence. I never told you to join us"

"Someone has to be here to talk to Historia. The only time you spend in this room is to sleep, or to glare at Eren"

"I wouldn't have to glare at him if he'd wake the fuck up"

 "Gentlemen, I think I've had enough of both your attitudes. It's clear that Levi is being affected by Obsydin's personality, both physically and mentally. I can feel the malice coming for you. Prince Erwin, we may need to strip Eren naked, so for now, would mind please waiting in the hall? I wish to confer with you more, once we have assessed Eren's current situation"

"No worries at all, Maria. Please let me know if you change your mind"

Erwin brushed past him as he left, the man not caring when he growled. How long had they been alone? And had Erwin dared to touch Eren? If Erwin wanted to act like the fucking Prince, and just let himself into castle rooms, he could man up and be the damned prince

"Levi, can you please fetch some hot water and towels? Maria, we need some light in here. I'll be trusting your magic, as he does need healing by the feel of it"

 Ignored by the two women as they got to work, Levi watched their every move. There wasn't much else he could do. Eren's back was covered in scales, which he knew. The teen had wounds across his stomach, which he knew. His scales on his face had shifted colour... which, again, he knew. Eren was sick. No. You don't fucking say. It was beginning to feel like a waste of time. They weren't telling him anything new at all. He couldn't fucking take it

"Well. What's wrong with him? Why isn't he waking?"

Historia looked up to him

"His mind is stuck. It's not as if he doesn't want to wake, it's that he can't"

That's what generally happened when someone was in a coma

"These wounds, have more appeared while he's been like this?"

"Not after the first week. There was a small explosion in the infirmary, then fresh marks appeared"

"He's in surprisingly good health despite everything else. I'm going to reach out and see if I can get more of a read on his mental state"

"What mental state? He's asleep"

"He's dreaming. We know Obsydin manipulates dreams. It's most likely that wherever Eren is, he believes himself to be awake"

"And you're going to wake him up? Aren't you supposed to be pregnant? This infection spreads"

"It's either that, or I give up. There's tainted magic clinging to the sores across his stomach. They'll need to be cleaned properly"

So Historia was happy to push herself this far, and risk her clutch, for Eren? Were they really just friends? A year was a long time to be apart, and Eren had always written fondly of Historia

"Why would you go this far, for him?"

Scrunching her beautiful brow, Historia was clearly confused

"What do you mean?"

"Eren. He's my dragon, yet you're happy to risk your clutch for him"

"Eren went through a lot to try and seal the infection within the sword. I don't think anyone who witnessed his struggle would turn a blind eye"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a dragon thing"

"So you never slept with him?"

"Of course not. He is in love with you"

"You don't need to be in love to fuck"

"Levi, these thoughts are not your own. Eren would never cheat on you"

"Right. Just like he'd never suddenly be infertile. That clutch came out of nowhere. He hid it completely and didn't want me to know. Why else would he hide it, if he hadn't cheated?"

"That's not it at all!"

"Right. Sure. It's a dragon thing"

"It... it's complicated"

"What's so complicated about fucking someone else?"

A warm satisfaction came from the words leaving his lips. He didn't know where all this was stemming from, only that he didn't seem to be able to stop himself

"He never cheated on you"

"Like you'd tell me if he did. Whatever you do, try not to kill him off. He's the public lover of the prince. We need to keep appearances up"

"Levi, that's not it at all. Eren wanted children with you"

"Sure he did. That's why he left"

Historia climbed off the edge of the bed, looking about as scary as an angry kitten

"Historia..."

"No, Maria. I will not have him disrespecting Eren. Not after everything Eren did for him"

"And what did he do for me? He failed at sealing the sword and got himself into trouble, only to lose the clutch"

"He didn't get himself into trouble. He didn't know he was pregnant"

Historia let out a small gasp, covering her mouth. Levi eyes widened as he clenched his hands into fists. His nails cutting into his palms so deeply blood began to fill his hands

"That's not what I meant"

"He was pregnant"

"No. Yes. Please, it's not what you think. Can you wait until I've tended to him, then we can discuss this?"

"What's to discuss? I was fucking a whore"

Marching over to him, Historia slapped him hard across the face

"Eren gave up his clutch to seal the sword, you stupid bastard. He didn't know he was pregnant at the time, but he did it because it was for you and you're all he cares for. Now leave us. Your presence here is too unsettling for such delicate magic"

Straightening up, Levi ran a bloody hand through his hair

"He gave up his clutch. What a load of shit"

"Historia speaks the truth. Eren broke part of his soul to seal the sword. He took his biggest dream and decided you meant more. That spell was sealed with his soul and should have held, but it didn't. You're infected and acting irrationally because of it, but Eren is also infected. He's trapped in his own head, because he's infected. Yet you stand there, and you insult him while knowing nothing. It's because of you he can't have children. The magic aborted the clutch, yet they still grew inside of him. He wasn't hiding it from you to hurt you. He was hiding it from you to protect you"

 Levi felt as if he'd been shoved back against the wall. His head smacking against it, yet he couldn't remember moving. Eren had done that... for him? His omega... had done that for him. He'd done that, but he didn't understand why it didn't hurt as bad as he felt it should.

[cyrefinn]

On passion and calculation

Headcanon time! I was thinking earlier about how I wrote Curufin four years ago and how to hit my stride with him again. At my peak activity level, it felt natural to write in his voice. I felt I knew him well. I’ve been revising the canon and revisiting also my old threads and headcanons, and I came up with this as a corollary to a few of my previous headcanon posts in which I speak of Curufin’s as being crafty (outside of the forge), thoughtful, deliberate, manipulative, etc. (e.g. here) And yet, this is not entirely accurate.

This is only part of the picture. For is not Curufin his father’s son, most like him in temper, as well as look and appearance? And is Fëanor not known to be passionate?

Curufin consciously tries to come off as always in control, and often he does act in a cold and calculating way. He certainly spends a good deal of thought and energy on thinking what roads to take, how to optimize his choices to most efficiently achieve his goals, how to influence the things and people around him that he can to help himself. He is crafty...

But he has many strong passions, as well. His interest is easily diverted, and he loves to learn and to experiment. He will often do things out of curiosity. He will do things just because they feel good. Because he wants to. It’s the centuries-old Noldorin equivalent of considering something and then just being like, “Fuck it,” and going for it, just for the hell of it. Sometimes these things will set him back, and he will acknowledge that, and he’ll do them anyway. If asked to explain something like that, Curufin would probably say some version of that the utility he derives from the activity offsets, or even outweighs, the disutility of the strategic setback. (There’s always a logical explanation.)

And he can be moved to anger, hate, and malice much more easily than he lets on, and himself believes. Again, take Fëanor, the one who cursed and insulted Morgoth and slammed the door in his face (ref. the immortal quote, “Get thee gone from my gate, thou jail-crow of Mandos!”), the one who swore that infamous Oath, the one who burned the ships, who (to his downfall) was so eager “to come at Morgoth himself” that in battle he pressed beyond his vanguard alone and fought a bunch of Balrogs like it was his day job (“long he fought on, and undismayed, though he was wrapped in fire and wounded”).

A note in particular about the burning of the ships at Losgar. There’s a quote from The Shibboleth of Fëanor I’ve always found interesting for a number of reasons but here the only relevant part is the detail about the relationship between Fëanor and Curufin: “In the night Feanor, filled with malice, aroused Curufin, and with him and a few of those most close to Feanor in obedience he went to the ships and set them all aflame; and the dark sky was red as with a terrible dawn.” Here Curufin is the only son of Fëanor mentioned by name to participate in the burning of the ships. That’s no accident. Although in my RP I subscribe to the Silmarillion version (in which all the sons but Maedhros participate), I do draw upon the Shibboleth’s version for inspiration and information about who Curufin is.

Curufin is his father’s son. In Fëanor’s place, Curufin would likely have felt the same malice and done the same thing; in helping his father burn the ships, he probably felt some version of that malice because he loved his father and sympathized and was affine with him.

I like to think of Curufin’s conversation with Eöl as well, in which he is said to be “of perilous mood.” I always read this as “of perilous mood at the time” but it’s still interesting. Curufin is somewhat rude to Eöl in this interaction, laughing at him and giving him to understand in no unclear terms how much he dislikes and distrusts him. (Yet I note that, despite his dislike of Eöl and disapproval of his choice in spouse, Curufin nonetheless grants Eöl his life (when he might have taken it easily with impunity), his leave, and a warning: “This counsel I add: return now to your dwelling in the darkness of Nan El-moth; for my heart warns me that if you now pursue those who love you no more, never will you return thither.”) This is sloppier work than I would normally ascribe to Curufin, and it serves to underline that, when he’s in a mood, Curufin can be careless and say/do things that might be better left unsaid/undone. 

All this is to say I wonder sometimes if I focus too much on the “crafty” aspect and not enough on the fact that he is like Fëanor and, like his father, has a fire in his spirit that often masters him. I do love me some complicated characters (the more complicated, the better!), so I may start exploring this aspect of Curufin a bit more going forward.