#i literally keep losing my train of thought so this is incoherent at this point but

[clatoera]

struggling so much right now and missing my best friend who literally gets me through everything(i haven’t seen her in two weeks), so can i get some clove and glimmer bestie headcanons? if u have any 🩷 love u friend

Hi there, sorry to hear that you are struggling!!! So full transparency these all 100% take place in ARWBFB especially post war because like..thats when they are able to actually be normal 20-something girls without the threat of..well everything happening to them. So! ARWBFB au ahead.

1.One time they made an impulsive decision that they wanted cookies, like really good fancy cookies. Naturally speaking that said "oh you know who makes those really good cookies? Peeta." They had no idea how far District 12 actually was, and they did in fact end up on a 24 hour train ride there. Glimmer was fucking horrified by the state of the district and clung to Clove afraid she was going to catch poverty or something. But really, who was more shocked to see Miss District One and Miss Flayed a man alive in District 12; Peeta (who had to see these two walk into his bakery unannounced) or Haymitch (who had to hear about it later and thought peeta was lying). They do come home with a LOT of good treats, but they also leave two VERY concerned men in One and Two when they disappear for two days. yeah maybe they're concerned glimmer and clove finally ran off together what about it

2.In the spirt of them being young silly twenty something girls, they absolutely like...end up actually blacked out in the streets of District One on like a Tuesday night in September. By night I mean like...7 pm. It was one of those situations where you go too hard at brunch, get kicked out, and then keep drinking all day because you don't realize how drunk you are until it's too late and also you can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning. They are escorted to bed by 7:30 p.m and quite literally tucked into bed. Glimmer insists they sleep in the same one because "it's like a sleepover" and Clove is literally too incoherent to argue. She does in fact wake up the next morning very confused in this pink fluffy blanket.

3. On a sadder (?) note, Clove had such a lonely childhood for a little girl, and never had any friends her own age (especially not girls). She can do her own hair and like throw on a coat of nail polish if she wants (she has extremely steady and dexterous little hands). That being said she's never done any of those things for someone else. When she has her daughter later on, Glimmer kind of has to teach her how to like...do those things? She has to teach her how to do someone elses hair, and paint tiny squirmy nails, and all of those girly things that Clove can do but never for someone else. And by that she lets Clove practice on her with extraordinary patience and explanations. Even when she pulls her hair a little too tight.

4. Clove is forced to lose any sense of like...modesty and privacy when it comes to Glimmer as soon as she gives her the options to make her a dress. Glimmer will in fact walk in and start tugging and pulling on things to make that dress sit right, and that involves hands being reached right down the front of it.

5. Kind of well known by now but Clove learns to like..show love and friendship through food. That directly translates to Glimmer's life, in the fact that when she has the girls? Clove practically moves in for weeks to feed her (and marvel, too). She's like a personal chef, shopping, cooking three meals a day (AND snacks), and then cleaning it up. She doesn't know how else to help. That translates again to every stage of the girls like..getting bigger? Clove is there to make them baby snacks and appropriate food and that carries on until they're like..adults honestly.

6. Glimmer isn't one to weaponize her trauma. That being said, she has an actual meltdown when it comes time to send her girls to school and out of her care. She puts it off as long as possible. It gets to the point where she just starts begging Clove to teach them (because Clove is the smartest person she knows). begs. Begs and begs and begs. (she succeeds, but only for a few years, because none of them were ever taught anything after 6th grade except where to slice an artery and how to laugh for an audience).

7. As a result of the Enobaria/Cashmere situation they once sat down and stared at each other like "are we...related?" they aren't. But they tried to math the math of okay your sister and my kind of sister does that make us..sisters in law? cousins? (no! It doesn't!)

I hope these make sense and/or bring you a little smile my friend. It was fun to put some of these things out into the universe!

[arundolyn]

oh nooooooo genshin fandom has discovered the thousand year old minor argument. hate this place

[4dtk]

have this absolute shameless drabble of sugar daddy gojo that i wrote in between requests. my fingers have never typed so fast im sorry this is literally self-indulgent at this point ARJGJFFJ.

disclaimer i honestly can't see anyone calling gojo daddy but just for this fic..... ill allow it..... and also bc sugar daddy gojo is just always residing in my mind. did you see how he transferred 10 mil to mei mei!!!!! i will never shut the fuck up about that scene. pls spoil me <3

warnings: praise, public sex, sugar daddy/sugar baby relations, breeding kink, pet names

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI

sugar daddy!gojo pushes you up against the window of the store, visible for everyone to see you getting fucked senseless. in the gucci store four floors up, it could work both ways. fortunate to be so high up, although people would be getting a treat if they happened to look up.

“you know what you’re doing, baby?” he grunts, hips rocking into your soaked pussy as the staff outside try to ignore the lewd noises coming from behind the curtains.

it was supposed to be a simple trip: get a dress for gojo’s event in a few weeks and get out. with a tight arm wrapped around his, you followed him around like a starstruck puppy, the edges of your lips curled up knowing he’d treat you a million times over if you just asked for it.

gojo wasn’t any different, either. sure, he’s had sugar babies in the past, but not quite like you who’s so easy to please and spoil, knowing you could never say no even if your life depended on it. with your desperate listing for the requirement of monetary assistance, gojo couldn’t resist taking up the offer.

he just hadn’t expected you to be so… pliant. you had taken it like a good little bitch, too, moaning out for everyone to hear because you liked it like that.

“you’re taking my cock so well, princess,” gojo muttered out, lips nibbling on your ear as he continued to pound you. his grin that you feel against your skin plagues your mind, wanting nothing more than to see how he enjoys ruining you.

the catchy, upbeat pop song playing above you seemed to provide some rhythm, the sultry lyrics fuelling you further.

"so needy that i had to buy out the whole store for an hour, huh?" the male slows his pace, delivering deep thrusts into your cunt with the precision of an expert.

all you can reply are in little pants, sentences incoherent from how deep his cock is in you.

"i don't even think an hour is enough to satisfy my pretty little girl, isn't that right?" gojo picks up the speed again, and you're brought back to the many times he's fucked over his counter, washing machine. to the times where he's eaten you out on his office table and in his sheets of his king-sized.

and now, you've got another memory locked away for nights full of loneliness and soaked underwear when gojo's just too busy for you.

a tongue to your nipples and a hand to your clit makes you choke out a moan, writhing against the glass just to feel more of gojo, more of his cock and more of his lips on your neck.

you're struggling to keep yourself up, finding the right time in between muffled moans and whimpers to ask for one more wish.

"daddy... p-please, i wanna see your-"

"what, baby? repeat it for me." goddamn, the man had no problem articulating his words, how much had he fucked you already?

clearly not enough if you're still able to speak.

"w-wanna see your face when you fuck me deep, daddy!"

your wish is taken away when you're already creaming all over gojo as your hot breath creates fog on the glass in a silent scream.

"aw, you're cumming so hard baby~ you didn't even get to see me yet," he coos, enjoying the gush of your juices that coat his dick and your thighs. everything feels sticky and dirty, but you don't hesitate to beg for one more fuck with your eyes.

gojo catches your drift immediately, hips twitching from the idea of pumping you full of his cum. after all, he hasn't come yet.

he grunts at the time with a quick glance to the clock above your head. without wasting any more time, he flips you over, the restraint to cum slowly reaching its limit with your lolling tongue and fucked-out face.

the male doesn't bother to hide the deep groan that rips from his throat when he drags his dick along your folds, strings of both your juices stretching out in a way that hypnotises gojo.

"n-need your cock, daddy! please!" you whine, grinding your hips against the tip to make sure gojo knows of your desperation. that he's the only one to fuck you so good that no one else can satisfy you.

he smiles knowingly before he sinks into you.

gojo knows that he's the only one that can make you feel this way as he picks up the tempo, hitting spots in you that you didn't know was physically possible.

gojo knows that he's the only one you call daddy shamelessly as he writes off his card to help you in your student debts and the sparkly dress you've been eyeing.

he could throw you away the second you're done with university, the second the media's off his ass about his love life but, the sweet, sweet moans spilling from your lips pull him back in every single time, eager to hear it for as long as your bank's empty and his is piled up with money.

"more! satoru, more, fuuuck..." you groan, shying away from the striking blues of his eyes the more he drinks in your current state.

he's barely holding on, not even minding the first name you called him. the short skirt he'd given you flipped up makes him go crazy, your panties moved to the side to receive the dressing room quickie you always wanted.

"you're so de..eep daddy! i need all your c-cum please...!" it's a mix between a whimper and a whine.

"yeah? 'course i am, baby. your pussy is sucking me in all the w-way," gojo's hips stutters at how you squirm in his tight grasp, locking eyes with him as yours fill with want. your pussy is throbbing, stretched out so much that you don't register the thumb playing with your clit.

"s' too much...! s' too much, d-daddy!"

"you're a good girl, aren't you?" the way you nod is pathetic, eyebrows knitted from being stuffed so full.

"pretty little thing- fuuck..." gojo's losing control himself, the way his balls slaps against your cunt resonates around the small space and nothing feels better than being inches deep in you.

you're a babbling mess by then, unable to even scream out as you cream his cock. with head thrown back, you're left frozen for a second as the orgasm washes over you and a violent shudders goes through your thighs.

"daddy has so much, s-shit- cum for you, doll," it isn't long before the other comes undone, a groan escaping his lips before he shoots his load deep into you.

your pussy is stained white from all the cum he's giving you, gasping from how much gojo is leaking into you.

"thank y-you, satoru..." you trembling has affected your voice, too, burying your head into gojo's neck while your body shivers from sensitivity.

"take all of it, baby," gojo whispers, the hand near your middle moves instantly to finger his cum back into you, fixing back your underwear over your pussy.

a cheeky giggle leaves your mouth as you untangle yourself from the embrace, welcoming a kiss from the man as he slowly begins to clean up himself.

"have you chosen a dress yet, sir?"

gojo's smile is mischievous, not missing the way your face flushes at having to face the embarrassed staff outside.

"we'll take everything, thanks," his eyes never leave you as he helps you off the changing room chair, tugging your body flush to his before leaving you with one more hungry kiss.

"you did so well for daddy, doll. i may just have to treat you tonight since you have a day off university tomorrow..."

even if it wasn't in the contract, gojo loved to spoil you, admiring your mettle when it comes to material items. although...

"you know what i mean," it's enchanting, the way his voice travels like silk, "i'll call in sick for work tomorrow, yeah?"

your mind goes to mush at what tonight might entail, losing all train of coherence when his hushed whisper of my baby's so cute reaches your ear.

in a second you're out of there, hand twined with his while you remain giddy with the thought of getting used by gojo until you reach your limit.

[nowoyas]

As Long As You’re Here (I Will Live Like This)

A/N: day 14 of @birds-have-teeth​‘s Izumonth collab. little incoherent rn last editing pass probably missed something pls be nice to me. title references the song Twelve Feet Deep by The Front Bottoms.

Summary: Your boyfriend comes to your house one day bleeding profusely. You pick up the pieces and chat about the future. (vigilante!Izuku x reader)

Warnings: some blood/wounds, a non-explicit level of injury + the ensuing first aid

Word count: 2700+

Logically speaking, you know Izuku is up to something when he's not with you. He's accident prone beyond the limits of accident prone. You honestly can't recall the last time you saw him where you didn't notice a new bruise or cut on him. The bruises can be explained easily—he's told you before he takes martial arts classes, he's taught you plenty a thing about self-defense so that's easy to believe, but the cuts?

You have to wonder whether his martial arts classes involve disarming each other with real knives.

The first time you noticed how deep his propensity to injury really went, he had a poorly-bandaged cut over his eyebrow that, sure, scarred up prettily (you'd be lying if you said it didn't make him ten times hotter), but was deep enough that you know it should've gotten stitches, even if he insisted on having just your help in the matter.

That was somewhere in the realm of eighteen months ago.

Tonight, he comes to see you after one of his classes and promptly almost collapses in your doorway, which is infinitely less concerning in light of the fact that he's bleeding all over your fucking carpet. Honestly, at first you don't recognize him. He's got on a hoodie you've never seen him wear before, a cheap mask tied around his eyes, and you almost call the cops before you recognize the tufts of green hair poking out of his hood and then the hoodie itself.

"Holy shit, Izuku" leaves your mouth somewhat before your brain catches up to the fact that you're not just looking at your boyfriend of looking at the vigilante Jackrabbit that's been giving both cops and local pro heroes hell for ages, not to mention the villains. No one could ever seem to figure out his quirk, either, so they couldn't track down the vigilante via the quirk registry, which makes a hell of a lot of sense when compared with that fact that your boyfriend is quirkless.

"S-sorry," he coughs, flashing you a brilliant smile as you pull his hands away from his abdomen. "My base was a bit too far. Didn't mean for you to find out like this. C-can I ask you for some first aid?"

"Okay, okay, okay, just... come on, let me get you to my bathroom so you don't bleed on absolutely everything. Can you walk a bit further for me?"

He nods, biting his lip, and you loop his arm over your shoulder to support him on his way, kicking your door shut behind him.

"Take your hoodie and shirt off and hold this to the wound while I get ready," you order, sitting him down on your toilet and shoving a random towel at him. You rifle through your cabinets for your first aid kit, muttering mostly to yourself. "Honestly, you're lucky I've got a healing quirk and I love you."

"I love you too," he groans, shifting in his seat.

"Stop talking. We can talk about your 'martial arts classes' when I'm done saving your life."

He pointedly shuts his mouth, peeling his hoodie and shirt off in one go in a way that might be sexy if not for the way his blood is smeared across his side.

"What happened?" you ask quickly, kneeling in front of him and pressing the towel back against the wound.

He winces. "Thought you didn't want me talking, angel."

You roll your eyes. "Oh my god, can you stop joking around when you're literally bleeding all over my bathroom?"

"Sorry, sorry. I got, uh, I got shot." He admits this meekly, as if it's not something horrifically concerning. He's got one hand over his face the way he does when he's trying to hide his blush from you after you've teased him and he’s too embarrassed to look at you. 

"Shot," you repeat calmly, gingerly pulling the towel away and preparing to properly clean the wound. "So there's a bullet and-or shrapnel in here, and I can't go straight to disinfecting or using my quirk."

"Probably."

You release a heavy sigh, forcing yourself to stay as calm as possible. "Alright. This is probably going to hurt. I'm sorry I can't hold your hand while I do this, baby."

He nods, biting his lip as you set about cleaning out his wound. When everything's good and clean, you take a few deep breaths and focus your quirk, not letting up until you're sure the wound is completely closed. You're still gentle as you wipe the blood away, though whatever pain he's still in is probably nothing compared to the way he felt before. The spot where he'd been shot is completely healed over, the only signs that it ever happened being the slightest scarring.

When you're certain that he's not losing any more blood and that everything is okay, you finally release a proper breath, dropping your head forward to rest on his lap. "You did a good job," you breathe against his thigh. "You should–you should get cleaned up. Take a s-shower."

"Are you okay?" he asks, like he didn't get shot tonight. Like your adoring boyfriend hasn't been moonlighting as a vigilante for god only knows how long. Like he couldn't have died if you hadn't had a healing quirk, like he couldn't get arrested and go to jail like his life isn't in danger–

"I will be," you say clearly, except it's too fast and shaky and not clear at all.

"Hey. Love. Look at me?" His hand rests on your head, grounding you, and you shift to rest your chin on his leg. He frowns at the sight, tugging you up and leaning over so he can bring you into a hug. "I'm okay," he whispers. "You don't need to cry."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I... [Name], I'm sorry. I never meant to keep this from you." He's slow, careful in his words and the way his hands attempt to soothe you. "There wasn't... When we first started out, I didn't know if I should, and then I wanted to, but it was never the right time, so I..."

You sniffle, desperately trying to rein in your tears. "Izuku, you could have died."

"I saved someone's life today, though. I-I can't say I regret it."

You pull away to look him in the eye. "Please be careful. I don't want people I love getting hurt."

He nods, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'll try."

You peck his nose, intertwining your fingers with his. "We need to wash the rest of the blood off you. How are you feeling? Dizzy?"

"No, I feel fine. Got a bit of a stomachache, though."

You roll your eyes. "Huh, I wonder what could have caused that. Strip and get in the bath, idiot."

He lets out a bark of laughter. "Will you join me?"

You pause. You were going to go soak his clothes to get the blood out and maybe order some Chinese, but... "Give me five minutes and I will. I'm going to make sure the blood comes out of your shirt and your hoodie first."

He mock-salutes as you stand, and you leave the room on unsteady feet, Izuku's top and jacket in hand.

You soak them in the kitchen sink, the red of the water making you cringe. That's Izuku's blood. Izuku. Your Izuku. You plug the sink, shut off the water, and return to where Izuku is splashing water over the spots of blood he can find.

He doesn't notice your return just yet. Carefully, you slip out of your clothes, kneeling next to the bath to dip a hand in the water and run it across his back soothingly.

His back muscles jump beneath your touch, his head turning just slightly to look at you. "Everything settled?"

"For now," you hum, eyes trained on his back and the various scars and bruises there. Panic bubbles in your chest at the sight–how many near death experiences has he had that he's been shaking off? "I was gonna order Chinese, but I don't wanna be away from you right now."

"Want me to spend the night?"

"Please," you answer too quickly. "I just... I'll worry if I can't see you." You stand, carefully slipping into the water with him to help him rinse away the blood.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, resting his lips there as he murmurs. "Guess I should just move in so I don't have to worry you, huh?"

"Guess you should," you retort. Your hands roam his body, partially under the pretense of helping him clean off what little blood remains, but mostly because you're searching. "It's a shame, too. Must be a real hassle for you." A bruise under his rib cage. You heal it right away.

Izuku smiles against you. "As if I could ever complain about waking up with you every morning."

"As if you will," you snort. "Move in with me so I can make you sleep on the couch for a week for scaring me like you did."

"Surely there's some other way I could apologize," he declares with a dramatic gasp, one hand clapping over his bare chest.

"Start by laying back and not moving around so much, you'll splash water everywhere and I already have to get your blood out of my carpet."

He reaches for a shampoo bottle as he complies. You lightly slap his hand away with a playful glare. "No, you just got shot. You're not doing anything. Let me take care of you, Izu honey."

"But [name]–"

You cut him off with a soft kiss, capping the shampoo and beginning to massage his scalp. Now that you're at this stage, you're sure he has no willpower left to object. You snuggle up against him, shampooing his hair one-handed as you rest your head on his chest.

"I was serious, you know."

"About?" he borderline purrs, pressing his head into your touch.

"A lot of things, but mostly the scaring the shit out of me and the moving in with me parts. You don't have to, but I'd feel a lot better if you at least came back here after any patrols you do or fights you get into so I can heal you up."

"Won't that tire you out?" he protests. Everything sounds weaker when you're playing with his hair, but he does have a solid point.

"Using my quirk a lot will make me tired, but I get better rest when I'm sleeping in your arms anyway. More importantly, if I can keep you alive and well, I want to do it."

"I'm surprised you haven't said anything about me stopping the whole vigilante thing yet."

Your fingers still in his hair. Sure, you'd love it if he stopped. Nothing makes you feel worse than the thought that Izuku could be risking his life, but... "As much as I love you and want you to be safe, I want you to be happy, too," you admit. "If... If being Jackrabbit and giving all the local heroes and villains hell makes you happy, then I want to support that. Even if I'm really scared for you."

"Oh my god, marry me," he breathes, so fast and so faint you scarcely catch it.

"I'll marry you, but only if you buy me steak first," you hum. 

"Deal. A steak dinner, and a ring. I'll try to swing that."

"You better, idiot. I want to spend my life with you."

It's his turn to go still now, freezing as you tactically drip water on his head to rinse his hair. "I-if you're serious, then..."

Cheeks heat up in tandem. "Of course I'm serious. I love you. I never want to lose you. The days I wake up with you are the best days of my life. I'd adore being married to you."

Strong arms wrap around you and pull you tight. "I-I don't really think I'm good enough to marry you just yet," he says. Firm kisses pepper the top of your head, mixed with a few hot tears, before he continues. "But someday, when I can... When I can be confident enough to not worry you, I swear we'll get married, if you'll still have me then."

You frown. "Izuku baby, it'll be a cold day in hell before I stop worrying about your cute, reckless ass."

"Hell freezes over every year, actually. It's a little town in the United States. Gets ice a lot."

"You would know that, nerd."

"I thought I was an idiot?" 

"You can be both," you say with a pout. He chuckles and plants a few more kisses on top of your head.

The water is lukewarm when you both decide to get out of the bath. Standing before Izuku, you grab the fluffy towel before he can and begin patting him dry, pressing soft kisses against every scar and bruise that litters his skin. Soon, you move to kissing his freckles, too, and before long, you're kissing him indiscriminately as he laughs and tries to towel you off.

You're maybe halfway through kissing every inch of him when he uses the towel to pull you up and meet his lips. His arms are back around you in an instant. "I love you," he huffs. "I love you so much."

"Mm, love you more."

"No," he pouts. "You don't get to make that decision."

"What are you gonna do, stop me?" You punctuate your sentence with another quick peck to his lips, attempting to wriggle out of his vice grip. "Lemme go, cutie, I've gotta order dinner."

"Not until you admit that I love you more."

"Noooo," you protest, “I can’t make myself lie to youuu.”

Several loud knocks sound from your front door, causing both you and Izuku to freeze up. You glance at him with a worried look. "You wait in here, just in case."

"One moment, please!" you shout, scurrying into your bathroom. You quickly yank yourself into a pair of Izuku's sweatpants and a loose top, not bothering with underwear for the time being. Your worst fears are confirmed when you open your front door to find a pair of cops standing on your doorstep.

"Oh! Good evening, officers." You're suddenly very glad for your acting classes when you were still in school. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"We've received reports of the vigilante Jackrabbit being spotted running around this apartment complex," the taller man answers, producing a picture of your boyfriend from above, his face obscured by his hood. "We're asking if you know anything about his whereabouts."

You frown, putting on your best worried expression. "Isn't that dangerous? I can't say I know anything about it, though, officer."

The shorter man peers at your floor, then back to you with a worried look. "Do you mind telling us why your carpet's covered in blood?"

Oh shit. "Oh, that?" Your face goes blank as you try to think of an explanation. "Nothing serious, no need to worry. I cut myself super badly while playing with a pocketknife earlier, but I've got a healing quirk, so it's not an issue! I was more interested in cleaning the wound and getting into not-bloody clothes, so I haven't gotten around to dealing with my carpet yet!"

"Well, glad to hear you're alright, then. Be safe, and be more careful with knives goin' forward."

You nod, forcing a grateful smile. "Right! Thank you, officers. Sorry I couldn't be of any real help."

"You know, I hear that Coca-Cola's great for gettin' out bloodstains. Might help with your carpet, there."

"Oh! Great! I'll look into that."

"Give the station a call if you find any information about that vigilante, alright?"

You nod enthusiastically. "Of course! Anything to keep the peace. You both have yourselves a lovely evening while I try to get all this blood out of my carpet."

You wave the officers a good night, and slowly close your door, listening as their footsteps trail away to the next door in your building. 

You find Izuku standing nervously in your bedroom, anxious eyes searching your face as if he didn't listen in to the whole conversation. Slowly, you press the top of your head to his chest. "We need to set some ground rules for your Jackrabbit hoodie if you're gonna live here."

He nods. "Talk about it over Chinese food? I ordered while you spoke with the cops."

"Yeah. We'll talk about it over dinner."

Tags: @tooloudarts​ @sapid-rose​ @xxangelpridexx​ @birds-have-teeth​ @icythotsenpai​ @warmchoccymilk​ @wesparklebitch​ @izoodles​ @fujimoribaby​ @my-bnha-things​ @denise-the-death-goddess​ @themerpenguin​ @sincerebubbles​ @themmmelissa @fudobaby​

[shutupanakin]

Wasting Your Time ch.2

tw for suicidal ideation

“Wh— what?” Tommy choked out, his voice hoarse from the lack of use all day.

The man rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t just ask a completely impolite question. “I said, do you have any booze?”

Tommy sat still. He reached into his jacket pocket, his hand finding only a plastic pen. Could he stab this man with a plastic pen?

Tommy pulled said piece of plastic out, visibly holding it up. “I have a pen.” Something about the bemused look on the man's face made Tommy click it, and again, repeatedly.

click click click click click click click click—

...

or; Tommy planned on dying. He meets Wilbur instead.

...

Tommy goes back to the station. Wilbur makes him think about his relationship with Tubbo and Ranboo.

first chapter here crossposted on ao3 here

Tommy is a fucking idiot.

No, no, no, it went beyond that, beyond that plain idiocy, Tommy was a fucking moron.

He desperately wanted to just forget about the deal he made. It sat in the back of his mind, collecting dust and forming cobwebs. Whenever he began to think about it, whenever he opened that door and the sun would hit it with its light; Tommy promptly closed it.

But it would always just creek back open, whenever Tommy was sitting in a lecture and he felt like tearing his hair out. When Tommy had managed to hang around Tubbo and Ranboo, and he felt like screaming , throwing a fit, wanting to make his existence known. When he had come home and Tommy would make himself dinner and sit at that stupid empty table alone because Sam was working or studying.

The light would hit it, and Tommy remembered he had a bet of wills to win. Against fucking Wilbur Soot. That pretentious prick.

Tommy is a fucking idiot because he came back. The 11:25 train was coming in, Tommy was alone on this stupid platform. No old lady to distract him, to make him hesitate, no one was here this time to make him reconsider against just—

He could—

He could just—

No.

He had a bet to win.

Tommy glared at the lights, the train skidding to a perfect stop in front of him. Tommy entered swiftly when the doors opened, grabbing the same spot at the back as he did last time. There were two other people at the front. Not together, he would imagine.

He threw his leg up on the plastic seat, ignoring the nauseating feeling that was settling in his stomach. What if Wilbur was just screwing with him? What if he didn’t show up?

Why would he? There was nothing that he personally gained by showing up. It was a bet of wills. Maybe he made this deal to give himself some peace of mind, a pity play. To keep the random kid he met in the middle of the night alive, to give the man a heroic ticket. Look! It’s Wilbur Soot! He saved a child from his own stupidity! A self-righteous savior play.

What a dick.

Tommy wondered if Wilbur was thinking that way about Tommy, too. If he was waiting for the tube to come, debating whether or not he showed up. Whether or not Tommy truly didn’t make it to the end of the week, or if he thought Tommy decided he had better things to do with his time.

Tommy was determined to prove him wrong.

They were slowing. Tommy screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to glance out the window, he didn’t want to be disappointed at the lack of that stupid mess of brown hair. The doors hissed open and Tommy didn’t open them.

Tommy counted his fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

“You look stupid,”

The doors whizzed shut, Tommy's eyes snapped open.

There was Wilbur Soot, with his stupid glasses and dumb-looking Bush and Reagan jumper and Tommy was wishing that he was less relieved to see the man.

“I win,” Tommy blurted. Wilbur took his place, sitting opposite to Tommy. “I made it to the end of the week.” I proved you wrong.

“Think you can do one more?” What?

“I said nothing about that big man,” Tommy objected. “if you wanna do this again we’re gonna have to put money on it.”

Wilbur rubbed his face, exasperated. “I am not gambling with a child. I had a buddy for that.”

“I am seventeen,” Tommy objected. “Where’s your buddy now?” He sneered.

Wilbur shrugged. “Unavailable. I can not talk to him anymore.”

Tommy picked at the thread, resisting the urge to pull it. “Why is that a fucking pattern with you? Can’t talk to this person, can’t talk to that person— do you just get into the habit of making people dislike you?”

“Do you dislike me?” Wilbur pushed.

“I’m trying to,” Tommy told truthfully. “it is kinda a shit thing to do, though— to drop friends. Act like they don’t exist anymore.”

The train stopped. No one got on. Tommy found himself grateful for that.

“Why did you get the bee pin?” Wilbur asked, Tommy's eyes fell down to said pin, resting easily in the fabric of his jacket. He had forgotten about it, truth be told. No one had pointed it out or asked about it. Not even Sam, who he got the jacket from , when Tommy saw him had pointed it out.

“Oh,” Tommy said. “The bee. Uhm.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Reminds me of my friend. Tubbo. I guess. He has this thing, yeah? For them. Since we were kids.”

Tommy remembered, when they were kids, when Tommy’s parents were still alive and Tubbo’s hadn’t split yet. They were in his yard, Tommy was throwing around a baseball. He was getting better at throwing, he couldn’t wait to show Sam— when Tubbo had yelled for him to look. He thrust his cupped hands into Tommy’s face, showing him the bee he had captured.

Tommy had been around Tubbo in person twice this week. If he saw the bee pin he didn’t say anything

“Why are you not hanging around him then?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. He knew the answer to that. He just didn’t like it.

“I don’t think he wants me around anymore,” Tommy admitted.

Another station. One of the stragglers at the front left.

“Why do you think that?”

“What are you trying to do?” Tommy snapped. “Psychoanalyze me? Am I your fucking psychology research project or something?!”

“I am trying to help, you irrational child,” Wilbur stressed.

Tommy relaxed, the glare that had grown on his face only dropping a bit. “I… I— there’s this guy, Ranboo, and I like him, alright? Like he’s cool. He’s from America— living with his cousin, yeah? One of my brother's friends. That’s how we met. I introduced him to Tubbo and—“

“They got along better than you thought,” Wilbur finished.

Tommy nodded. “Yeah,” He was picking at the thread again. “it’s not like… they completely ignore me. They still invite me to stuff. And ask me if I want to play Minecraft. But it’s third-wheeling, right? Like nothing, I say lands with them. I don’t think they do it on purpose, because Ranboo is such a people pleaser; the biggest one I know, and Tubbo's so fucking clingy. He’s a pushover, too. But they have fun together, whether I’m there or not, it doesn’t matter. So why— why bother getting into the voice call, just to sit there talking to myself while they enjoy each other?”

“So you are feeling left out,” Wilbur concluded. Tommy shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s why I like talking to you.” Tommy admitted. “Because you listen to me, the things I say have a bigger impact than a pebble on the pavement. With you it’s— it’s like a crater. But I don’t need to be a world-destroying asteroid when I’m talking to you. I can just be a pebble and still get my point across. You listen to what I say and you respond.”

With them, it was like he was a ghost. Like in Phasmophobia , or something. They’re trying to communicate with him, but are only hearing every other word. Incoherent babbling. With Wilbur, they’re both ghosts— making fun of the idiots with their magic boxes trying to communicate with them.

“Aw, Tommy,” Wilbur cooed. Tommy threw his hands up.

“And you ruined it, you’ve ruined it, Wilbur Soot. You are terrible, downright awful. I’m never saying anything positive about you again.”

Wilbur grinned mockingly. “Oh, Tommy— it is alright that you like talking to me!”

“Fuck you!” Tommy retorted. “You’re a fucking wrongen!”

“I like talking to you too,” Wilbur offered.

They stopped again, someone had gotten. They spared a mere glance at Tommy before sitting in the midsection.

Tommy crossed his arms. “You’re okay I guess,”

“You should probably get on that though,” Wilbur said, Tommy looking at him questionably. “talking to your friends, I mean. Figure things out. I mean, they are doing it on purpose, they are shit friends.”

“They are not!” Tommy hissed. “They’re not doing it on purpose. They wouldn’t.”

And he was right, they wouldn’t. He’s known Tubbo forever , they’ve been stuck together since Tommy could count— so what if Tubbo might have gotten sick of him, just a little? It’s not on purpose, he knew that! But he had someone new to hang around, someone else to laugh with, someone to tell the same jokes he told Tommy and they would laugh because they would be new. Tommy gets it. He does! That doesn’t mean Tubbo was—

That didn’t mean Tubbo was a bad friend. It’s not on purpose. It’s not.

Ranboo was well, Ranboo. That guy couldn’t hurt a fly, even if he wanted to. He had been in the UK for a few months at this point, Tommy did his job of being the placeholder friend— he showed him around, he was his friend when he didn’t have any; now he did. He still cared about Tommy. Tommy knew that! The— the stupid fucking good morning texts, the ridiculous little signs he’d leave in Tommy’s house in Minecraft, the checkups. Ranboo was a good person.

And Tommy? Tommy wasn’t. But he tried.

So if he was jealous of that, of that relationship, of that quick forming bond— he kept his mouth fucking shut.

“They’re not,” Tommy repeated. “I don’t want to ruin their fun.”

“But you are not having fun,” Wilbur pointed out. “and if they are your friends they should care about that.”

“And what am I supposed to do then?” Tommy cried. “They’re all I got! If I— if I lose them then have nothing. I’d rather sit and deal with it than just lose them.”

Tommy meant it, in the most literal way possible, that he would rather die than lose them. He’d rather have died knowing they still cared about him even just a little bit than live not having them in his life.

Another station and Tommy glared at the doors, daring anyone to enter.

No one did.

“You are scared,” Wilbur said.

“I don’t like being alone,” Tommy admitted. He shook his head. “Nope, I’m done talking about this. I’m done.” Topic change, topic change… “Why are you wearing that stupid jumper again?”

Wilbur looked down, pulling at said jumper. “It is… my Tuesday jumper?”

“That’s lame.” Tommy deadpanned. “Of course you correlate your outfits with days of the week.”

“You are literally wearing a varsity jacket, you do not play a sport.”

“Hey!” Tommy exclaimed. “It’s my brothers! And— and why the fuck do you have a Reagan and Bush sweater, anyway?! You’re fucking British!”

“It is cool ,” Wilbur dejected. “A friend and I used to go on eBay and buy American President jumpers.”

“Nerd.” Tommy yawned. It was late. “Lemme guess— you don’t talk to this guy anymore either?”

“Yep.” He said, popping the p. “After I left he got divorced, or something, I think. Bad luck.”

“It’s because he buys U.S President jumpers off of eBay.” Tommy pitched his voice lower. “Sorry, can’t pay the bills this month Sandra! I just couldn’t resist this two hundred pound Obama sweater.”

Wilbur stood up, and Tommy realized that the train was slowing. Oh. Were they going back to that shop then?

“Come on,” Wilbur gestured. “you can get another pin or something.”

“I’m going to get scammed again,” Tommy grumbled, bouncing his legs as he waited for the doors to click open.

“You are helping a small business,”

“‘You are helping a small business’, shut up.” Tommy drawled. Someone who was on the platform entered the front, not sparing a glance at Tommy.

Tommy walked alongside Wilbur, exiting the station. They passed a woman who was standing outside a pub, smoking. Tommy only nodded at her.

“Can you tell me what got you banned now?”

“I do not think I will,”

He groaned. “Oh, you cryptic bastard— what if I do the same thing you did and get banned too? Who am I supposed to go to in the middle of the night to get pins?”

“You are gonna get pins again?” Wilbur asked. Tommy nodded his head.

“I think so. I kinda like the bee, and nothing else in there has really interested me, ya know? Could use more of them on this,” He gestured to the front of his jacket.

The blinking sign came up, Tommy standing underneath it. “I will be here,” Wilbur said.

“This is ridiculous,” Tommy complained. “what happens if you go in? Can’t bygones just be— bygones? Is that how ya say it? Jack seems nice. I’m sure he’s not as much of a prick that you’re making him out to be.”

“Nope,” Wilbur shook his head. “No can do, Toms.”

“Ugh,” The bell rang, the door shutting behind him with a thud. Jack Manifold sat at the counter, face leaning on his hands. His eyes met Tommy’s as he entered.

“You again?” He greeted, rather rudely. Tommy gave a small wave, approaching the bowl of pins, looking through it.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Tommy joked, picking up a circular white pin. An empty smiley face stared back at him.

“We have to stop meeting in the middle of the night,” Jack corrected. “what are you doing out this late anyway?”

“Work?” Tommy said it more like a question, pulling out his wallet. “Late night shift, that. Yeah.” Tommy cringed. Jack didn’t question it, taking the two pounds Tommy had placed on the counter. Tommy turned the pin in his hand, clipping it into his jacket. “Thank’s Jack!”

“See ya kid!” He called, Tommy swiftly exiting. Wilbur stood waiting for him.

“What did you get this time?” He asked, Tommy held out his jacket. Wilbur squinted at the smiley face. “That is ironic.”

Tommy punched him in the shoulder, lightly, keeping his pace with Wilbur. “It’s not for me dipshit,” Tommy explained. “Sam—my brother— has this friend, Ranboos cousin actually. He’s got this stupid fucking hoodie. Ugliest shit I’ve ever seen man, bright green. He’s like a walking traffic light. Has this giant smile on it. Reminded me of him. Everything about that guy. Fucking weirdo.”

“Because he wears a smiley face?”

“No,” Tommy said. “Because he is American .” He emphasized.

“Ah,” Wilbur realized. “That explains it. Perfectly reasonable explanation. You ever been there?”

“No, but Sam has. He studied abroad there for a few years before—“ Nope. Tommy’s night was picking up. Nope . “Anyway, he came back. Friends with a bunch of them too.”

“I have been,” Wilbur hummed, reminiscing. “California. La Jolla. Sometimes I wish that I stayed.

“That sounds made up,” The cool nighttime air disappeared as they entered the underground again, descending the stairs.

“It could have been. It was nice, sunny. More than here. Cleaner.”

“Why don’t you go back then?” Tommy pushed. “If it’s so much nicer there than here. If I had the chance I’d get the fuck out of here too.”

Tommy did not want to go to the states, fuck that. But oh, what he would do to be able to just leave. Travel. Not have to stay in one spot. That sounded nice, being able to pick up and leave whenever he felt claustrophobic. He couldn’t though, because he had Sam and school and Tubbo and Ranboo and he’s standing in quicksand and he’s sinking and he can't get out —

He’d go to Rome first maybe, if he could pull himself out of the quicksand. Berlin? Paris? Ugh, the French. No. Vienna would be nice. Tubbo’s mom lived there. Tommy remembered that he would visit her there during the summers. He’d always excitedly show pictures he had taken to Tommy when he had returned.

“I can not leave,” Wilbur answered, Tommy’s attention snapping back to him.“Stuck here for a bit, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” Tommy frowned. “Well, that’s something we have in common I guess.”

When the train arrived, they boarded. This time, there was a group at the front, engaging in an incoherent conversation. Tommy didn’t bother eavesdropping, snatching his spot at the back.

“You want to make another deal?” Wilbur asked, sitting down.

“Like, we do this again? Do you still think I’m gonna jump?”

“Maybe,” Wilbur admitted. “You sounded like you wanted to earlier.” Tommy knew what he was referring to, to his word dump about Tubbo and Ranboo. Tommy was hoping that he would forget that. “I want to add something to it though.”

Tommy's eyes glinted. “Money?”

Wilbur glared. “No. I am not giving you money.”

“ Ughhhh—” Tommy leaned back. “Come on, I’ll stay alive for money, okay? I’ll do that. I’ll take that bet!”

“I want you to talk to your friends. Tell them what you told me.”

No thank you , he was not doing that. The train stopped. No one got on, the group didn’t leave.

“Now that bet I’m not taking. You can keep your money.”

“Tommy.”

“No— no you don’t get it! That will ruin everything!” Tommy expressed. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. “I’m not going to ruin it for them.” He affirmed.

“It is being ruined for you though,” Wilbur hummed.

“Fuck you,”

They stopped, the group got off. A man entered.

“Listen to me,” Wilbur said. “They are not going to hate you. They are not going to hate each other either. You tell them—“ He pitched his voice. “‘Hey guys, I am feeling ignored and like I am third wheedling but I have been avoiding telling you that because I think it will ruin your fun’ mememememe—“

“I do not go mememememe !” Tommy argued. Completely inaccurate imitation.

“Do that,” Wilbur continued. “If it goes well, come back, right? If it fixes your fucking communication issues, come back here.”

“That’s your bet?”

“Mm-hm.”

Tommy was going to develop a gambling addiction, or something. If that was how that worked. He didn’t— he didn’t want to tell them, he couldn’t! Why should he ruin everything just to prove to this asshole that he was wrong?!

“And if I don’t show up, I’m right. I proved you wrong.”

“I am not wrong though,” He teased.

“Oh get your head out of your ass!” Tommy scolded. “You’re so full of yourself aren’t you?!”

“I am not full of myself,” Wilbur tapped. “I just know when I am right.”

“You’re a bitch.”

Wilbur didn’t hesitate. “You are a gremlin.”

Another station and the man had gotten off, glaring in Tommy’s direction. Tommy resisted the urge to flip him off. It was just them now.

“You’re going to be proven wrong by a gremlin, then I’ll never have to—“ Oh. “I won’t ever see you again.”

“We better hope I’m right then!” Wilbur laughed, clapping his hands together. “That would be unfortunate.”

It would suck, Tommy agreed. Because man, was Wilbur Soot fucking irritating; but if he lost Tubbo and Ranboo this week, he— he wouldn’t show up. Because he won. Wilbur would enter and there would be an empty seat, and he would know he lost.

Maybe, maybe Tommy could fib. If that happened. Act like they went okay. It was up in the air, Tommy was already building the lie that he would tell to Wilbur in case that happened.

“Alright, Wilbur. I’ll take that bet.” Tommy decided.

“We need to find a different word for that,” Wilbur said. “Bet. That is morbid—“

“You’re morbid.”

“It is morbid,” Wilbur continued. “Placing bets on human life. It lessens the value, takes it— and makes it hollow, and if we are hollow, what are we then? We are no better than the people that glare at you when you laugh, or the ones that complain about a delayed train.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy said, slowly. “It’s a word.”

Wilburs shoulders fell. “Words are powerful, Toms.”

“I think calling it a bet is okay. Right? Because it’s a bet on me.” Tommy explained, carefully. “It’s at my own expense. Nothing is being placed on it, it’s... it’s more of a test of wills if anything.”

“A test,” Wilbur repeated.

“I hate tests.” Tommy rambled. “We both have a thesis, opposites of each other, and we’re both trying to prove the other wrong. Like a science experiment or something.”

“I could work with that,” Wilbur calmed. The train stopped again. It was Wilbur's stop. Another night, ended by a train station. Wilbur stood up, standing at the doors, waiting for them to open. “Farewell, my fellow science experiment.” Wilbur joked, Tommy groaned, he didn’t agree to being called that. “See you next week!”

“You hope!” Tommy called. Tommy hoped, but he wouldn’t say that either. A man brushed past Wilbur as he exited, not sparing him or Tommy a glance as he sat in the midsection.

That heavy feeling returned, settling in Tommy’s stomach. He would have to face Tubbo and Ranboo, this week. Probably a conversation that would be easier to do in person, so he would have to wait a few days. It wasn’t just his friendship with them on the line now, anymore. He had the curse that was Wilbur Soot and being bad at lying. His poor, poor unfortunate luck.

Tommy, for the first time all night, pulled out his phone. A few from Ranboo, but nothing concerning. No indication that Sam had caught him. Thank god.

Tommy got off at his stop, not giving the man a glance. The possible things he could say to them running through his head as he ascended the stairs, he needed to word it out carefully. Maybe write like a notes app vent, or something. He needed to think this through carefully. He would do that tomorrow, though.

Right now, he wanted to go home, and collapse on his bed and pretend the last to Tuesday didn’t happen. He could live with that. He would be perfectly contempt with that!

But he couldn’t, unfortunately. He was cursed with the miserable existence of Wilbur Soot.

[a-crimson-lion]

Ultimatum: The Art of Lying In A Made Bed

(Or Why My Experience With Chapter 285 Is Contrary To Everyone Else's)

[Manga Spoilers Ahead. Also Opinions. Feel Free To Ignore.]

After Chapter 284, many fans were wondering how the story of BNHA would follow up on Katsuki's development. Now that Chapter 285 is officially out, fans are clamoring about Katsuki's latest acts of heroism, about how his arc is finally kicking it into high gear.

I'd be inclined to agree, but… you know how these things go.

[Heads up fans/stans, if you like Katsuki you might wanna bail. The word vomit that follows is pretty much incoherent and reflects my disaster of a thought process.]

I was looking forward to Chapter 285. I had my reservations on the execution of Chapter 284, but if the next chapter could follow it up and then some, I'd be pleasantly surprised. But then the leaks came out. And then the fan translation. And as of today, the official VIZ translation.

While everyone else is cheering for explosion boy, I'm just… done.

285 didn't get me to see how far Bakugo's journey has come. 285 didn't get me to finally root for him. And maybe I am making this decision prematurely, maybe I am missing something, but…

...the way things are going in the story I just- I just CAN'T root for him.

And I'm not saying the rest of you can't, if you're still reading. Katsuki is definitely a different person compared to Chapter 1, a better person, and he's definitely been heading on the up and up! If you can and want to support him, then by all means, go for it, don't let me stop you! It's just…

For me, chapter 284 was a wavering torch: a flicker of hope that sometimes dwindled, but was still there. Chapter 285 was the moment where I wanted to jump on the Katsuki Development Train, to finally gain some semblance of respect for him. But when I jumped, I landed on the tracks, and had to crawl back onto the platform.

I missed my chance to jump on that train. Whether it's because of previous circumstances or recent circumstances, I'll never know…

You probably wanna ask me at this point, "But Crimson, why DIDN'T Chapter 285 make you see the awe inspiring pinnacle of character development that is Katsuki Bakugo???"

To put it simply: it's a culmination thing.

For starters, there's a sort of… whiplash with Katsuki's development in the last few chapters. People like me will complain that Katsuki's development is too slow, in the case of the last 2-3 chapters, it feels like a switch was flipped, and now it's become too fast. Perhaps it's a me thing, but let me try to explain…

Shoto starts out as a standard background character. By the time he gets his spotlight in the Sports Festival, he comes off as reserved and antagonistic. After the whole "it's your power" moment, Shoto is finally able to accept the side he always hated. Then Katsuki fights Shoto, and we're shown he still needs time to grow; his left side comes with a lot of baggage he can't just brush off in the span of a single sparring match.

Fastforward to Hosu. Shoto's starting to take other people into better account. He's starting to learn to better control his fire. He's reconnected with his mother. His goal is no longer one-upping his old man; he has goals, people, that he wants to protect. He's coming into his own and wants others to do the same, like Tenya.

He joins the Katsuki Rescue Squad because, like Izuku, he had an opportunity to save Katsuki, didn't, and now he wants to make up for it. When we get to the Provisional License Exam, we're yet again slammed with the fact that his growth is still not done via Inasa, that there's still a bit of Endeavor he has to shake off, even if it was in the past. And he does progress towards that with the Remedial Course Arc. And while I have my opinions on the Endeavor Agency Arc, I'll admit that it was another development opportunity for Shoto and the Todoroki family. Shoto's growth comes with setbacks, but overall it's consistent.

Let's shift gears to Tenya, who's characterization I find fascinating. He starts out opposed to Izuku when they first meet at the Entrance Exam. He sees how Izuku is (for lack of a better phrase) "better qualified" at heroics thus far, reassesses his position, and apologizes whilst making amends. When Tenya resorts to LITERAL MURDER against Stain, the narrative does not let him go off without reprocussions. His arms are damaged, his supervisor's teaching license is revoked, and while he managed to avoid legal charges via police cover up, it still came close. Tenya listened to Stain's words, and opted to improve himself by that notion. He tries to set a better example, be a better class rep. It isn't a one and done.

Him lashing out during the Hideout Raid Arc is an offshoot of that. He doesn't deck Izuku just to be a dick; he's trying to knock some sense into him. They're so focused on Katsuki that they're forgetting about everyone else. Their friends, their teachers, their parents. If they f*** up like Tenya almost did at Hosu, they'll have hell to pay, and he doesn't want that. Of course, once they explain that combat/murder is not their M.O., Tenya tags along, if only to ensure the operation goes smoothly without this hitch. And again, Tenya keeps up. He looks after his classmates, looks after Izuku during the Shie Hassaikai arc. His growth is also consistent.

There are probably more characters I could elaborate on (Ochako, Momo, Eijiro, etc.), but I'll stop there. So, what's the deal with Katsuki's arc?

Well, it's… frustratingly back and forth.

It's one thing to have setbacks like Tenya and Shoto. It's something else entirely to have multiple setbacks and to keep trucking on with only abstract signs of development, but otherwise feeling like a very similar character compared to several chapters ago.

This is (in my opinion) Katsuki's problem. If we're going by what the manga stated, his arc technically started in Chapter 11: "Bakugo's Starting Line." But this is a rocky start. Izuku tells him about OFA right from the getgo out of guilt, but this neglects the fact that he's technically lying to everyone about it (including his new friends Ochako and Tenya), that OFA is a world-shattering secret, and that Katsuki is likely the worst person to tell this to considering that Izuku just handed Katsuki's ass to him and Katsuki was willing to use lethal force in their Trial. That aside, instead of say, sucking up his pride and opting to try and learn from everyone else, Katsuki doesn't really change strategies or approaches. He essentially does what he was planning to do since the start of UA; he's only crying because, SURPRISE, people are better than him. You'd think he'd expect that considering he called his middle school crappy…

After the USJ, once everyone had their "Lol Bakugo sux" moment on the bus ride, we get to the Sports Festival and everyone is clamoring to join Katsuki's team despite his apparent unapproachability. This feels less like something happened in the two weeks leading up to the Sports Festival, and more like history repeating itself from middle school. Moving on to the tournament, we don't even get to see how capable Katsuki is at serious combat. Two of his matches resort to Deus Ex Machina pulls, and the other two are in his corner by principle instead of difficult.

First off, Katsuki vs Ochako. I don't know why people praise this fight. For starters, it makes Katsuki HEAVILY OoC. Ochako is the only person he asks if she wants to back out before the match even starts. The ONLY person, which kinda undermines the whole "he didn't underestimate her" thing. Then he takes a reactionary stance the entire battle. Like, I thought we were still dealing with the "fist first" Katsuki. He does this to Eijiro, Fumikage, even Shoto, but Ochako? Stay still and then attack. Even if he did get his gravity removed, couldn't he just… propelly himself and let her have it. If he was proactive, he could have ended the fight quicker. Instead, he just plays sitting duck and headless chicken. If you're gonna have Katsuki win the fight, don't bulls*** it.

Which brings me to the final bit of that fight: the meteor shower. Having Katsuki blow that away after supposedly expending most of his energy earlier in the match just does NOT sit right. Ochako gets the upper hand, and then you just… negate that? You expect me to believe that Katsuki could generate an explosion at that magnitude, if nothing else? And what exactly does that do for him in the end? No one else tires him out for the remainder of the festival, which is pretty sketch.

(And yeah, I know I know "What part of her was frail?" but that's more of a retrospective thing than in the moment, coupled with the facf that it's never elaborated on again in any capacity, with Ochako or with someone else. It's a throwaway moment; a waste. Moving on…)

You really can't say much about the matchups with Eijiro and Fumikage. With Eijiro, it's an endurance match, and Katsuki apparently has infinite stamina and is on the attack. And he just… rushes him, which I'm pretty sure anyone else would do. Then with Fumikage, Dark Shadow is weak to light. Katsuki's explosions emit light on contact. Do the math.

And I am especially mad at Katsuki vs Shoto because one, he stays in place yet again at the start of the match, and two, he can apparently ignore his Quirk' weakness to low temperatures. In a gym uniform. Against a glacier the size of a building. Even with his power output, you don't see his explosions dampening in magnitude. It's obviously in his favor, which defeats any tension the fight could have had. It sucks, and in the long run, as a wise man once said, "Todoroki should have folded [his] ass."

Then we get to the Final Exams (ABOUT DAMN TIME) and… Katsuki hits Izuku for trying to cooperate, nearly gets knocked out once, and gets knocked out the second time around. He does not want to work with Izuku despite it being All Might, is petty enough to consider losing, and actively grumbles against working with Izuku. And all of his supposed self-preservation goes flying out the window when he's willing to try and beat All Might, leaving Izuku having to come and carry this boy out of the gate, which should not have let him pass.

Then there's the Training Camp attack. The second Izuku is mentioned, Katsuki decides to go AWOL, and while being kidnapped sucks, I am less sympathetic when you're boneheaded enough to help them capture you because you wanted to fight villains instead of getting to safety like the professionals recommended, all because of your one-sided hatefest with one of your classmates. Congrats, you played yourself.

Then we get to the Provisonal License Exam, which feels like a step in the right direction… until you realize this will boil over into Deku vs Kacchan 2, which will get both of them in trouble, which will give Katsuki insight into OFA while Izuku gets shunned by his classmates, and which will prevent Katsuki from the one ass beating that could have potentially taught him something. It's essentially the narrative covering his ass, and then he has the gall to be happy about other people potentially getting set back just because he was set back. Geez dude.

The Cultural Festival essentially undoes what the Remedial Course Arc accomplishes, having Katsuki look down on the rest of UA when he said NOT to look down on people earlier. And then his speech is still heavily antagonistic to the rest of the school, and to the idea of basic human decency and kindness in general. And if I'm being honest, that whole "he can play drums" feels like a big ass pull to keep him in the spotlight. At least the story brought back his ability to cook down the line.

The Joint Training Arc is just shoe horning in regards to Katsuki. It acts like his gearing up towards saving, but the circumstances are heavily, heavily in his favor, and not in a good way. I've already brought up how Katsuki won't get "saving" until the Endeavor Arc, and how here he's just doing it to show off, so I won't go into it here. Then apparently he gets to outwit a recommendation student 'cause why not? It makes him look more impressive than he actually is, even though he outright states he hasn't changed much if at all. Not to mention the narrative makes it sound like he was some sort of underdog, even though he only got kidnapped and didn't get his license. And I know those are big things, but not enough to warrant his victory feeling that triumphant. I'd probably buy it if he didn't win the Sports Festival or pass the Final Exam. Keep him in that slump for longer than you actually do, or it lessens the impact. And let's not forget, he might have been willing to help Izuku with Blackwhip via fisticuffs, but the second he realized he wasn't getting anything out of it, he noped out. And it's been what, almost 200 chapters since his "starting line?"

I don't have much to say during the Endeavor Arc (that was its own can of worms),  but as for the War Arc thus far… here's what I mean by "whiplash." The arc begins in Chapter 253. By Chapter 257, Katsuki will demonstrate how much he just does not give a f*** about Izuku's mastery over OFA so long as it looks like he'll come out on top. By Chapter 274, when Izuku's gotta split, it'll look like Katsuki has been thinking about some stuff, but by 275 he's gonna throw that out the window so he can attempt to one up Tomura and Izuku, and then he'll nearly get killed for it. And we won't know what exactly Katsuki is thinking until a flashback in Chapter 284 (which chronologically takes place after 257), where he has a conversation with All Might about his past with Izuku. Or at least the bullet points. If you're me, the start of the conversation feels less about Izuku and more so about his situation: his situation with OFA. And as much as I want to believe there was at least one good kernel in Katsuki that he was too stubborn to let out with Izuku, I feel like Katsuki only brings up him and his capabilities now because he got a Quirk. That's what put him on Katsuki's radar. That's what forced Katsuki to take notice of Izuku, what caused him to be unable to ignore his own weakness. Because of a Quirk. That's… borderline shallow, if not remarkably so.

And even when Katsuki is attempting to save Izuku in 285, his first thoughts are still on OFA. And even if we go by the line of thought that Katsuki is thinking "Even if OFA sucks, it's still Izuku's Quirk." And that's nice and all, but the flashback makes it seem like the Quirk is still All Might's Quirk as well. That all of Izuku's worth is hinged on the fact that he got a Quirk now and therefore can't be written off. Maybe he doesn't owe this to his accomplishments, but the narrative is terrible in its implications that Izuku wouldn't have gotten as much attention without it. At the end of the day, Katsuki is still associating Izuku's worth with his Quirk. And as much as I want to vaguely, vainly hope that this will change later on, I'm already at my limit

...and now that I've said my piece on almost the entire narrative thus far, let's shift gears to a few more tidbits in 285.

Again, the flashback. I think it's significant that they're shifting the focus briefly on middle school again. But you wanna know what sent me the wrong way? They didn't include the god forsaken suicide instigation. They can show Katsuki gloating. They can show Izuku up against a wall. They can even show a notebook and Izuku's face during the Sludge Villain rematch. But they can't show Izuku reacting with sorrow mixed with almost fury. That can't show Katsuki threatening him with a mere "What?" and the sparks on his palms. They can't show Izuku standing and crying, small and defeated.

"BUT HORI SAID HE WENT TO FAR WITH THAT SCENE!1!" Blah blah blah, doesn't change the fact that it still happened. Doesn't change the fact that it should be addressed, at any capacity. Doesn't change the fact that the story had the balls to recall middle school but couldn't bring itself to remember the one thing that could get its audience raising eyebrows.

But that's alright, it gave you the notebook; clearly it's done enough.

And maybe in another timeline, I could have let my jaw drop when Katsuki was hit and the chapter title was revealed. "Katsuki Bakugo: Rising" It would have been pretty damn powerful too.

...but with all the previous crap the narrative has pulled, it feels like more shoehorning. It feels like more Erasehead stepping in and shaming the audience. It feels like more All Might letting Katsuki in because he's not completely familiar with the finer details. It feels like more people. In narrative parroting that Katsuki changed when he does the bare minimum, as a hero or as a person. I can't treat this development legitimately, because so many other "legitimate" developments pulled a "psyche!" and headed out.

So, I'm done. I'm done with Katsuki, done with hoping his development will be done in a somewhat satisfying manner. Done with people telling me "it's actually good though!" like I'm blind and deaf or something, when I have enough brain cells to formulate my own opinions, and we both have enough brain cells to leave each other alone if we don't agree. Maybe when the series ends and we can all look at this in hindsight, and Katsuki has either found a way to redeem himself, or remain deplorable, I might talk about it then. But for now. I'm drawing the line. I might talk about what we've gotten up to this point, but everything past 285 I'm taking with a grain of salt. 'Cause I'm sick of hoping for something that obviously won't come through, and it's better for me and everyone involved if I just pack up and move on. BNHA isn't just Katsuki's story after all.

And if you made it to the end of all this… I hope you'll either respect my opinion, or respect my thought process. That's all I can ask.

-Crimson Lion (27 September 2020)

[heymacy]

the club diaries: chapter one ✍🏼

if you didn’t know, i recently got a job as a cocktail waitress at a strip club. a friend from my day job got me an interview there for bartending, but since i’ve only waitressed in the past i’m starting there and then will train along the way.

if you told me a year ago that i’d be working in a strip club part time, i’d have assumed i was hallucinating, so this is an entirely new experience for me and i thought i’d share stories about the job with y’all since i’m sure there will be many.

my first night, i got there early to fill out my tax paperwork and get my uniform. once i was dressed, my friend (we’ll call her E) had me shadow her for the rest of the night, helping her with tables and orders.

before i got this job, i had been to a strip club one time in my entire life. it was almost an entire decade ago, when I was 18, and i went with my boyfriend at the time and our mutual best friend. a stripper named hunter put her face in my boobs and it was definitely a, uh, memorable experience.

i’ve also never been to a club or a bar, in the traditional sense. it was never my scene, i don’t really drink alcohol, and my only friends have always been neurodivergent homebodies like me.

then, all of a sudden, i’m in a corset with my boobs front and center and fake eyelashes to the heavens pouring shots of overpriced Grey Goose vodka for middle-aged men in button-down shirts. culture shock? yeah.

but to be honest? it’s not that different from my other job

let me explain. at our day job, even though we work in different departments, E and i deal with rude people, angry people, sometimes even violent people. we have to think on our feet and problem solve and placate the customer until someone in upper management can slide in and either solve the problem entirely or escort them out of the store. the exact same is true at the club. in fact, i was told by three people during my first shift that if anyone ever does anything that makes me uncomfortable, like touching me without my permission or making lewd comments, it’s 100% okay and encouraged to tell them to fuck off. at my day job, i’m not allowed to do that, so it’s actually nice to know i have that option if things get dicey.

and that’s the thing: things get dicey at both jobs. just the other day, at my day job, a man came in high on coke and meth with a switchblade and tried stealing a tablet from the electronics department by cutting the security tag. when it didn’t work, his high ass came over to my department, slammed the knife down on the table, and demanded to speak with a manager while muttering incoherently under his breath.

the entire world, every single part of it, is deeply and utterly bizarre.

the first night was pretty simple, just shadowing E and helping her with her tables. we spent a lot of time taking orders since it was a busy night, but the computer system was glitching a lot so there was a lot of standing around, waiting for credit cards to process, waiting for the POS system to reboot. i got there around 9:30 and i was there until about 3am. the next night i went in around 10 and worked on my own until about 5:30. at one point i was awake for a grand total of 42 hours and was fully convinced i was losing my mind and becoming irreparably insane. turns out sleep depravation doesn’t agree with me - who knew?

overall, i was surprised by how laid back it was. like yes, it’s crazy in a lot of ways. flashing lights, boobs everywhere, smoke and alcohol and cologne flowing through the room, loud music, people yelling at each other, etc. think, the jersey shore crew on a night out at karma, only with actual strippers.

i’m also surprised by how comfortable i felt in my uniform. i’d never struggled with my weight until i turned 22, and i just recently lost about 45 pounds due to illness, so my body image has been a little wonky as of late. however, i was a musical theatre kid (shut up) and honestly, i wore an outfit just as scandalous when we did a rendition of “hey big spender” from sweet charity (a musical that’s literally about nightclub dancers, by the way). so quite frankly, i’ve been rather comfortable in the skrimpy little outfit, which is surprising even to me.

anyway, so far things are going well. i anticipate drama, and chaos, and there’s already been some, but that’s ultimately the reality of every job ever. at my day job, the drama is insubordination and return policies and angry Karens. at my club job, the drama is “why does a vodka cranberry cost $16?” and “this guy is drunk, call security” and to be honest? it’s less emotionally exhausting to explain overpriced alcohol to a slimy dude in a suit than it is to explain to a Karen why she can’t return the clothes she bought at walmart to our store, because we’re not walmart. 🙄

my next shift is tomorrow night at 11, and i’ll be there until the wee hours of the morning on thursday. thankfully, there won’t be a repeat of this weekend, since i’m completely free from both jobs on thursday and friday.

i’ll be making these posts every once in a while if i have any interesting stories or anecdotes to share, but feel free to ask me questions any time, and i’ll answer them as best as i can!

oh also, my wife is keeping all the cash tips i earn in a shoebox and wasn’t too amused when i referred to it as the “titty money box” lmao

anyway, here’s some photos of my uniform. thank you god or whoever for my boobs, they cause me tremendous back pain but i can hold $120 in cash, a cell phone, three pens, and a stack of napkins in there without being detected. so. pretty neat trick.

macy and her boobs, signing off for now ✨

[ancientstone]

Photo I.D.: Screenshots of two anon asks, the bottom image, the first ask, says: “So I've begun rewatching TUA for the millionth time because the world is a nightmare and I need a distraction, and anyway I feel like I'd never really noticed before that Five never has a weapon on his person. Like, in the Apocalypse when he was the literal last person alive he was armed and ready to go, but in Griddy's he goes in unarmed and leaves unarmed. What do you make of that? Is it confidence in his ability to protect himself? Or does it signal he really is over fighting unless necessary?”

The top image, the second ask, says: “Hey! It's me, the person! I'm so excited, muse away!! I just really wanted your take on it because I feel you get how Five's brain works better than any other writer I've seen. Also it just really stood out to me, I guess especially because not only was he taken by surprise at Griddy's (them finding him sooner than he expected) but he could've literally helped himself to any of the weapons now knowing he was already a target. Just interesting. Anyhoo yay I can't wait to see your thoughts!” End photo I.D.

~~~

Right, now I’ve had time to give this proper thought, I’m going to answer this very interesting question in a ramble-y, completely incoherent way!

(Also thank you so much anon ❤❤❤ You’re too kind!!)

Why doesn’t Five carry a weapon in 2019/60s, but he does in the apocalypse?

Age:

Apocalypse Five is, ultimately, a kid.

Things are scary as a kid, and in the apocalypse there are always things moving, breaking, and crumbling all around you. When you’re on your own in the kind of environment with constant periodic noise, it’s really easy to imagine something/someone is there (speaking from personal experience in woods at night - if you give your imagination the chance it will make you believe all kinds of creatures are out there!) 

So tiny Five would have been spooked a lot, and for a while probably didn’t realise he was the only person left alive either, so keeping something on him was a reasonable thing to do to keep himself safe.

Side thought: He could also be armed in the apocalypse to kill rats? When we first get to see an apocalypse flashback at the end of s1ep1, a rat runs across the road in front of him, so at least a few survive. And when you kill things like that, you kinda have to gut them, so having a blade on hand to do that with quickly away from camp was probably a must. Yum.

So then he arrives in 2019 and the 60s.

Here he’s an adult, so he knows better than to jump at shadows. This gives him less of a motive to carry a blade for the sake of keeping the unknown things at bay.

Five is, however, also being chased by the Commission. So while this might be a factor into it, it’s probably not the sole reason. That’s more likely...

Mentality and Physical Capability:

Five is, when he pops back into the living world of 2019, far more skilled than his child self ever was.

Evidence: I mean, Five’s probably been bopping around the Academy since he could crawl, however when Five’s trying to show Reginald that he’s ready to time travel, he goes “I’ve been practicing my spatial jumps just like you said!” and then just...blinks to the other end of the table with a pleased “See?!”

Like, boy, that’s one end of the table to the other, that really shouldn’t be the heart of your argument here.

Also is it me or are Five’s kid jumps slower? Am I imagining that? The one at the dinner table certainly is in s1, and comparing that to the dinner scene in s2 with Veginald-Reginald, it looks like he becomes quicker.

2019/60s Five has more time to train and understand his abilities, to the point where he’s completely comfortable with using them in a fight to gain the upper hand.

E.g. Five vs the Swedes, Five vs Lila, the Griddy’s shootout, Gimbel Brothers

Five doesn’t often use his powers to get himself weapons, though, see the examples above.

Instead, he uses them to get himself into the middle of the fight. He could’ve easily swiped up one of the guns at Griddy’s, or have taken one of the guns from the dead Commission agents outside the barn to shoot Lila, but he doesn’t.

I think the reason Five doesn’t carry a weapon is because he is the weapon.

Which, when you think about it, ties nicely into this little exchange:

“You made me a killer!”

“You were always a killer, I just pointed you in a direction.”

Of course, he does take weapons, such as the the axe at the assassination, but more often than not we seen him kill with his bare hands (snapping necks) or with the things around him (his tie, a mop, and a pencil at Griddy’s, a glass dish to stop Diego and Hazel fighting, a metal pole when he fights Lila.)

Actually that probably stems from being in the apocalypse - Using the resources at hand to get you through a situation. There were likely times Five had to quickly bundle things together and work through something fast, so for him it’s probably second nature to just look around his environment and go: cool, what can I use?

Basically: Why would Five carry something to kill when he’s perfectly capable of doing it his damn self?

HOWEVER!

This ask also got me thinking about how Five is extremely reliant upon his powers to help him zip in and out of fights, and when he doesn’t have them the outcome of those fights are often less likely to go in his favour.

See:

Hazel and Cha-Cha find him at Gimbel Brothers - His powers run out, resulting in him being injured and cornered until a stroke of luck lets him hide

The Swedes attack Five at the Majestic 12 meeting - Five gets beaten and flung around like a rag doll, and required Lila’s intervention to save him

Five vs Lila/Five vs Five - These are interesting because they show that, when the odds are evenly matched (i.e. Lila also has the same powers as him, therefore cancelling out his advantage, or he’s against himself), he’s far more likely to struggle and lose (like he did in the barn). With Five vs Five, there was no obvious winner, and if the fight had been allowed to continue it’s probable that whoever came out on top did so out of luck rather than skill.

This is different from, say, Diego, who can just chuck a blade from a distance if needs must.

Not having anything on him means that Five doesn’t have the luxury of getting distance between him and the enemy while still causing damage, making him much more vulnerable at close range when his powers give up on him and has to rely on his strength alone. Again this plays into his resourcefulness with using the things around him.

Actually, this problem was likely less of an issue when he was in his adult body, because despite being older he was more physically capable of matching height/strength/energy. I wonder if Five struggled in the non-power fights we see here all the more because he’s now in the body of a teenager, and therefore has even less to rely on.

As Five says, he ended up in “This twip of a body.”

Conclusion ~ tl;dr ~

Five doesn’t have a weapon because he is the weapon, however he’s super reliant on his powers being part of that, so when they’re gone he’s at risk of being overpowered and taken down.

Conclusion, part 2

Hargreeves get your damn brother like a pointy stick or something jeez

[uaklauslovesdave]

Hi, thank you for sending me asks, I really appreciate it! :D Could you do 002 for klave, I always want to hear your thoughts about them <3

my buddy, my dude, it’s been roughly 17 years since you sent this ask, and i’m oh so sorry for taking this long to answer. it got to be one of those situations where i wanted to do it Properly, which of course brought the anxiety, which of course then brought the avoidance. But we’re here now! it’s a new era and i have a whole bunch of klave thoughts to dump on my unsuspecting followers. let us begin.

when i started shipping it:

Pretty much immediately! I remember first watching s1 and getting that slow confirmation that Klaus time traveled to the Vietnam War. We saw him on the bus with his fatigues and bloody hands and I was like ‘oh god oh no he went to Vietnam didn’t he.’ And then later we have Klaus experiencing flashbacks in the bathtub and there are echoes of the noises of war but also a strong and clear “Dave!” And in that moment my interest was piqued. Dave, he said? Who is this Dave? Is this someone he loved? Did he have a war-time romance with another soldier? And I was hopeful but I also didn’t want to get too ahead of myself because of Queer Baiting in Media reasons (like, I was in the marvel fandom, ok? I went through the whole stucky dance routine). But then, but then! We got more. We got roughly five minutes (or less?) of scenes of Klaus dropping down in front of a disoriented soldier, of this soldier introducing himself as Dave on a bus, of Klaus and Dave dancing in a bar, of Klaus and Dave sharing a kiss in a quiet corner, of Dave bleeding out and dying in the middle of combat as Klaus sobs above him. And it was quick and it was short but it was meaningful and it was tender and immediately I knew that I was gone for them. There was no turning back at this point. I was all in on the Klave Train.

my thoughts:

My thoughts? Where do I even start? I have many! Some are incoherent! Some are devastating! Some are sickeningly sweet! Some are raunchy! Stay tuned to find out!

what makes me happy about them/what makes me sad about them:

So I decided to combine these two questions because, well, I Do Not Know how to untie the happy and the sad when it comes to klave. I tried and I cannot do it. They’re two sides of the same coin with these two. Because their entire relationship is tinted by tragedy, you know? They only met each other because Klaus was tortured and then flung into a notoriously traumatizing war in the 1960s. And who knows what number tour Dave was on. Had he been there for just 2 months or was this second or third time around? I’m not sure which option is more painful, really. And it’s unclear, did Dave genuinely want to serve in the military? Did he truly subscribe to those values instilled by his family? I’d lean towards no, based on the conversation Klaus tries to have with the Younger Dave in the diner. But I think it took Dave some time to get there, as he grew older and came to better understand and accept himself and perhaps grew more and more disillusioned with the life he was pushed into. And then there’s Klaus, whose own experiences somewhat parallel Dave’s (they just happened on a different timeline). Klaus, who grew up under Reginald’s reign of terror, who was taught to be a soldier just like Dave was. But his own disillusionment was expedited and he was able to rebel and remove himself from that scene more easily than Dave could (but at the expense of losing shelter and security and stability). And we have some insights into what it was like for Klaus to grow up in that environment, constantly surrounded by death. When we first meet him he is a person who clearly does not do genuine attachment or sincerity, because that is far too vulnerable and far too dangerous in his experience. He looks out for himself and he does what he needs to do to get by, and he approaches things from a casual, crass (safe) distance. And then there’s Dave, who we learn a little bit about from his interactions with Klaus in 1963 Dallas. He appears earnest and kind, just a Really Good Kid. He seems somewhat confused by Klaus, but also intrigued. Pretty much every time we see Klaus interact with someone in the 1960’s who is not a member of Destiny’s Children they approach him with disdain (referring to him as “pretty boy,” kicking him out of the diner, etc.). But not Dave. Not until he is pressured into it by Uncle Homophobe. And after that Dave seeks him out and apologizes, says that’s not him. And he and Klaus talk, and we see that they really knew each other, they really had a relationship, but by the end of the conversation Dave has been pushed too far. He’s not quite ready to rebel yet, he’s not quite able to make that leap into living as his true self. Just like Klaus, Dave grew up trapped and restricted and surrounded by ghosts. Not literal ones, no, but the ghosts of dead war heroes who came before him, the ghosts of the Ideal Man and Good Son that he thought he had to be, that he thought he had to prove he could become. And it’s not quite clear how and when Dave finally got to that point where he could rebel, where he could finally push past the fear, knock down the walls of the box he had been shoved into. But by the time he and Klaus crossed paths in 1968 Vietnam he was ready. And Klaus was ready. And they brought that genuine, true, real love out in each other. Something both of them probably thought was never possible. Something both of them probably thought was just a myth. Just turning themselves inside out and sharing that with each other. Trusting the other to take care of it and hold and keep it safe. All in the middle of a deadly war. It’s beautiful and it’s painful and it’s why I love them.

things done in fanfic that annoy me:

Nothing really specific comes to mind. Generally if there’s something I don’t like in a fanfic I’ll stop reading and move on. There is, of course, the Fanon Klaus Problem that makes its way into klave fics, so I suppose that annoys me. Or stories where Dave is one-dimensional and seems to exist just to comfort and take care of Klaus. But really, I don’t wanna hate on anyone who writes fanfic in a particular way. You do you. If it appeals to me I’ll read it and if it doesn’t I’ll just pass it by. No big deal.

things i look for in fanfic:

It absolutely depends on the day and what I’m in the mood for in that particular moment. I’m a sucker for angst so I absolutely do not mind reading something terribly sad and tragic. I like hurt/comfort with an emphasis on the hurt. I’m a fan of the GhostDave Watches Over Klaus Through the Years genre. I like stories that explore their time together in Vietnam. I’m into AU’s that include AliveDave traveling back to 2019 with Klaus and they hang out in Klaus’ room in the academy and Dave meets the siblings and Diego gives him a shovel talk. Sometimes I just want that sweet, sweet smut. Mostly I look for something that is both lovely and sad, which is not hard to find because that is, essentially, their relationship. There’s lots of good stuff out there. All y’all writers are talented. I salute you.

my kinks:

Alright, I’m just gonna preface this by saying that I will try my best to be unapologetically open about this, but at my core I am both shy and repressed. My easy and safe answer to this is that my kink for klave is love, happiness, and tender intimacy. That’s what I really want for them. But also. But also! Let them be smutty! Let them find places to sneak away and fuck, Dave’s hand over Klaus’ mouth to stop him from making noise that will alert the other soldiers to their activities. Or maybe they’re sitting under a tarp in the pouring rain and Klaus sees how far he can take it, and Dave doesn’t back down, and it ends up with Klaus blowing Dave while some other guys are sitting just feet away, oblivious to what’s going on between Katz and Hargreeves just over there. And then there’s that time they get to take leave together, and they’re able to get a hotel room, just to themselves, with real walls and a door that locks and a bed and everything. And the digs aren’t great but it feels like a palace compared to what they’re used to, and they absolutely do not waste this opportunity. Dave fucks Klaus into the mattress, and Klaus gets to learn what it’s like to have someone take control because you actually want them to and you feel safe with them, and Dave gets to learn what it’s like to have someone trust you implicitly and be willing to be vulnerable with you. And it’s not perfect, of course, sometimes their histories and understandings of sex and intimacy bump heads, but they love each other, they really do, and they work through it. And they both cry during sex at some point. For Dave it’s the first time he’s done so, for Klaus it’s not (but this is nothing like those other times this is because he wants to be here this is because he’s overwhelmed with love this is a release this is being seen this is being cared for).

who i’d be comfortable with them ending up with if not each other:

Let me be real and say that I really, really, really want them to end up with each other, and I think that this is where the show is headed. But, if that is not the case, as long as they are happy I will be happy. Perhaps that is cliche, but oh well. Just let them experience love and support, whether that’s with each other, someone else, or just on their own.

my happily ever after for them:

I don’t know how and I don’t know when (like seriously, when in the timeline is a big question), but I want them to find a way to be together. Maybe it involves some time-traveling, maybe it involves some timeline-hopping, maybe it involves some Commission interference, maybe one or both of them will be dead, maybe (most likely) it involves something that has not even crossed my mind as a possibility. But, like I said, I think that somehow there WILL be a (perhaps nontraditional) happily ever after for them. It might take some time to get there and I don’t think it’s gonna be a smooth road, but I do think that’s the ultimate destination. And I’m looking forward to the whole process.

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

Good question! My first instinct was Klaus as little spoon. Because he is Klaus but also because of the Bar Kiss scene where Dave tenderly cradles his face and those Very Important blurry behind the scenes instagram photos of Klaus resting his head on Dave. But I also think it would be really nice for Dave to be the little spoon? Because Klaus gets to hold him and act as a Protector and maybe he can feel Dave’s heartbeat beneath his (hello) hand and he gets to wrap around him and hold on tight and he can let go when he wants to but he doesn’t want to, he wants to stay right here as long as Dave will have him. And Dave will have Klaus wrapped around him, holding on, as long as Klaus wants to stay. Dave gets to be held and cocooned in the arms of this beautiful person he loves. Dave doesn’t have to be strong right now, he doesn’t have to put on the face of the Good Soldier. All he has to do is fall into the space between them.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

I’m gonna say that they had a lot of time to sit together and talk while they were in Vietnam. Sure, they had their duties and sometimes they were in the shit but there was also a lot of down time, just sitting around and waiting for something to happen. And so they’d sit and they’d smoke and they would talk. About their interests, about where they come from, and eventually about the life they would build together after they got out of there. But here’s a specific image that I have: they’re sitting close together, maybe it’s dark, there’s no one nearby. Cigarette smoke lingers in the air, mingles with the fine mist. The conversation has turned to music, somehow. Conversations have a tendency to meander when Klaus is involved, and Dave follows him step for step, never tripping, never questioning how they got there. And Klaus asks Dave about his favorite song, and Dave hesitantly mentions “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence,” like he’s embarrassed, but he’s loved it for years and he wants to be honest with Klaus. And Klaus hums and says he doesn’t know it, hasn’t heard of it, and he leans against Dave, lays his head against his chest. And Dave says, that’s ok, it doesn’t matter, it’s just a stupid old song anway. But Klaus says, no, you should sing it for me, I want to hear it, I want to know it. And Dave scoffs and laughs, but Klaus looks up at him, and then Dave looks away, and his mouth lifts into a smile, something small and fragile. He turns back to Klaus, looks him the eye, and softly, so softly, starts singing, “When Liberty Valence rode to town, the womenfolk would hide…” And Klaus drops his head and shifts closer to Dave and hears the words slip from Dave’s mouth and feels the words vibrate in Dave’s chest. He closes his eyes. There’s a war going on. It’s 1968 and he’s in Vietnam and his clothes are damp but he’s right where he wants to be. The song is not romantic, but it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. He never forgets the words.

[r6shippingdelivery]

Fuze and tachanka or some other operators on the base find out about glaz' and kapkans relationship and seem really against it and homophobic and all that shit but turns out it was all just a big misunderstanding, either they though one was cheating on the other or kapkan was being abused(?) Cause of all the.. *cough* love bruises on his hips and shit Idk

That’s an interesting idea 🤔 I do have an idea planned for the cheating misunderstanding, for a fic involving poly!Spetsnaz, so since I didn’t want to re-use a similar premise, I chose to go with the “suspected abuse” one. It’s a really out there idea, and I’m a bit nervous about the result. It already got longer than I planned, since I was aiming for a snippet under 1k and this is around 2k 😅

You can read the story here in AO3 too!

Coming out to their teammates didn’t go as expected. First of all, it was an accident. Glaz knew Kapkan was uncomfortable with the idea, and while he was of the opinion they couldn’t hide forever, for the time being he agreed to keep their relationship a secret. That they ended up kissing in front of all their friends was an accident, a miscalculation they blamed on the alcohol.

It happened during poker night, which had become sort of a weekly tradition. Bets were made, drinks flowed freely, and in general their guard was low. After all, most of the people in the room were their friends, there was no reason for them not to relax. 

At one point, Bandit tried to get Kapkan into some silly bet. Glaz wasn’t sure about the specifics, he’d been too busy trying to determine if Thermite was bluffing or not. He only heard the last part of the conversation, with Bandit saying that if he won, Kapkan would have to kiss Glaz. It was almost endearing how Kapkan’s friends were trying to set them up, albeit clumsily. 

Then, to everyone’s bafflement, Kapkan replied, “I don’t need a shoddy excuse to kiss moy dorogoy.”

After which he grabbed Glaz by the neck of his shirt and kissed him. The sniper was confused, because while feeling Kapkan’s lips on him was always a delight, he also knew this went against the hunter’s wish to keep their relationship a secret.

Predictably, the room exploded: hooting, clapping, incoherent screaming... everyone seemed delighted by this development - probably because of the betting pool they had going on, as Glaz learnt later. The only ones looking glum were Fuze and Tachanka. Glaz wasn’t naïve enough to think they would be totally fine with it from the get go, but he hoped they would eventually see reason. Despite the prevalent attitudes in Russia, neither of them had struck him as particularly bigoted. 

Maybe they were worried about what it could mean for the team, if this would cloud his or Kapkan’s judgement during a mission. So, for the time being, he put those concerns aside and enjoyed the rest of the evening playing cards, while an unusually affectionate Kapkan sat by his side.

Next morning Kapkan groaned and cursed when remembering how he accidentally outed them, but after the kiss and then going to sleep in Glaz’s room there was no backtracking now. The secret was out, and everyone seemed okay with it. Mostly. Tachanka and Fuze didn’t comment on it, but at least they acted as always around them. Well, around Kapkan. Glaz could swear their demeanor was warm with Kapkan and considerably colder around him. Which made no sense to Glaz.

For the rest of the week, he observed how both Fuze and Tachanka seemed to be fine with Kapkan yet became more guarded and silent around Glaz. There was also the fact they seemed to keep him away from the hunter. Tachanka often coming to snatch Kapkan away for some reason or another, or Fuze staying around instead of leaving the lovebirds alone. At some point he had the feeling they would forbid them to sleep in the same room if they could. None of it made any sense to Glaz. Why was he a problem in his teammate’s eyes but not Kapkan? Not that he wanted them to have a problem with the hunter too, but that one-sided distaste was really bizarre.

Glaz was a patient man, but he was also fed up with his teammates giving him the cold shoulder for no apparent reason, and decided it was time to have a talk with them. After asking around, he discovered Tachanka had taken Kapkan away for some extra training, which he wasn’t even surprised about, so he went to find Fuze instead. It was always easy to find Fuze, since he spent most of his free time in the workshop.

“Shuhrat, we need to talk.”

Fuze grimaced at that, maybe because he knew what this was about, or maybe because Glaz’s expression was the complete opposite of his usual friendly demeanor.

“I wanted to talk to you too. In private.”

The walk back to the dorms was excruciating, the silence between them heavy and awkward and full of anticipation of the worst kind. Once they were back in the privacy of the Spetsnaz quarters, Fuze just looked at him, clearly uncomfortable and presumably thinking of how to breach the issue. Glaz took a way more direct approach.

“Are you going to tell me now why Sasha and you have been treating me like I spat in your food and insulted your entire family?”

“I want to say I don’t think you’re the type of person to… I said nothing until now because I wanted to have more evidence one way or another, but Sasha insisted we had to act now.”

That made absolutely no sense and Glaz was getting increasingly pissed. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“It started two weeks ago now, with Sasha saying how Maxim was reminding him of his sister before her own divorce, and not in a good way.” The explanation made Glaz blink, trying to process what the hell was that supposed to mean. “Maxim started to act weird, refusing to use the communal showers, always wearing those damn hoodies of his zipped up almost to his face. There were also the injuries, the sprained wrist, the busted lip. He never explained those, deflected the questions, you know? And Sasha… during their sparrings he noticed how Maxim sometimes limped a little, and the bruises hidden by the clothing.”

While Fuze talked, Glaz had literally felt how a burning cold fury grew as he realised what was being implied. The sheepish look from Fuze at the end did nothing to ease the rage threatening to overflow.

“You really thought, even for a moment, I am the kind of man to abuse their partner?” He hissed, slowly losing his composure the more he thought about it. Because beneath the anger, he was devastated that one of his closest friends would entertain such an idea. “Is that what you’re fucking implying, that you thought I was hitting Maxim?”

“I didn’t believe that!” Fuze shot back, agitated. “Sasha was convinced there was something weird going on, and we both know he’s not reasonable when he goes in protective mode. After we found out about you two, I suggested we wait a few more days, see how things went.”

“And what’s your verdict now, hm? What do you have to say?”

“I think Max has been acting weird, but I’ve seen how you two are around each other too,” Fuze sighed. “And I’m not sure you even realise how in love you both look.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, both glaring at the ground instead of looking at each other.

“Why didn’t you come to me with your doubts?” Glaz’s voice was small, still laden with anger but letting the hurt shine through. “Why avoid me if you were convinced of my innocence?”

“Because I had no idea what to say or how to apologize! Hey Timur, sorry I was cold with you, I thought Max might be in an abusive relationship, but then we found out you’re together and now I feel like an idiot, how’s that as a conversation starter?”

“Well, it would have been better than saying nothing!” 

“You’re right. I didn’t want to fuck up and I think I ended insulting you even worse. I’m sorry.”

Glaz nodded, silently accepting the apology. “About Maxim’s sprained wrist, do you remember how he boasted about swinging The Caber? Guess who ended up putting ice on his swollen wrist that night. The busted lip was from training, he didn’t tell me the details, so I assume it was an embarrassing and completely preventable accident he doesn’t want to disclose. As for the marks and bruises he hides, well. Couples fuck.” He felt a vindictive surge of satisfaction upon seeing Fuze blush violently, and continued his explanation despite Fuze telling him it wasn’t needed. “Sometimes I get carried away and get a bit too rough, but most of the time he’s the one asking me to mark him. Telling me to make sure he’ll feel it the next day. You should see my back, it’s like a wild animal scratched me. And you know how Max is, very private and weirdly shy about personal stuff. I guess he avoided the communal shower because he didn’t want people gossiping about the marks”

Ironically, that was exactly what happened. Kapkan would not be pleased if he learnt about it. In fact, if he learnt about this ridiculous situation about an abusive relationship, the hunter would raise hell. Glaz was quite sure he might even end up punching someone, most probably Tachanka.

“I’m sorry I acted like an idiot, and I’ll make sure Sasha realises he’s being an idiot too,” Fuze said again, looking truly remorseful. “You realise that if it had been you, or me, acting like that, Sasha would have done the same, right? He’s protective of all of us, even if he acts before thinking.”

“I know,” Glaz sighed. “I’m still pissed at him., though.”

With the air cleared, the unpleasant atmosphere was mostly gone, although Fuze acted like he wasn’t sure of how their friendship stood after that. Glaz wanted to reassure him they were still friends, but it could wait until tomorrow. He needed time to process everything first. It had been an extremely emotionally taxing conversation.

He retired to his room, ready to work through his feelings through painting, as he tended to do. Judging by how it was coming along, all jagged lines criss-crossing to hide the pattern beneath, Glaz was sure it wouldn’t be one of his best works, but at least it did its job to help him clear his mind. He was almost done when Kapkan barged into the room without even knocking.

“Timur, holy shit, you won’t believe the weird conversation I had with Sasha,” Kapkan said, a worried frown adorning his face.

“What happened?” Glaz was sure it wouldn’t beat his conversation with Fuze, at worst it would be on the same level, but then he doubted Kapkan would be so calm about it.

“I think Sasha might have a crush on me? He kept asking about our relationship, how long I’ve been dating you, and trying to talk about our sex life. He said I deserve someone who would love and worship me.” At this point, Glaz broke out laughing, Kapkan’s horrified expression making it even funnier. “Don’t laugh, I’m being serious! He was also weirdly hostile when talking about you, I don’t like it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk with him and set things right. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” Glaz replied, knowing what was Tachanka’s problem, and how it would stop being an issue soon.

“Hmm,” Kapkan wasn’t convinced, that much was clear. “I’ll go with you and make sure he doesn’t act too much like an idiot.”

“I think you’ll be surprised, he might be reasonable.”

Kapkan narrowed his eyes. “Are we talking about the same Sasha?”

Glaz chuckled, because Kapkan was right. Tachanka was usually stubborn and hardheaded, but this time Glaz had information Kapkan didn’t know about. And for now, he wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to tell him. Painting finished, he put the brushes aside and cleaned his hands with a rag.

“Enough about Sasha. We haven’t had much time for ourselves this week, how about we make up for it?” Glaz tilted his head towards the bed, and Kapkan took the hint instantly, grabbing his hands and dragging Glaz to the bed with him. 

Tomorrow there would be fresh marks on both of them, but he didn’t care. It was not a crime to leave a hickey or two on his lover, and part of Glaz wanted to see his teammate’s reaction.

[yulmoldauer]

its better not to say such things out loud (Tyson Jost/OC): Chapter One

part 2

Story summary: Mason Wright was recently traded and because an Av. Sometimes a fresh start with a new team across the country is what a guy needs, right? It seems to work out, going to a place where no one truly knows you. That is, until someone finds out what you’re desperately trying to hide.

Chapter 1

Summary: Mason’s had a rough game, to put it simply. It was never the best idea to get into a fight with someone bigger than you. They won even with him taking a five-minute major for fighting halfway through the third period. The team goes out to celebrate his 23rd birthday post-win and Tyson takes care of getting him home and to sleep safely.

Warnings: None, I believe! Just some drinking mentioned and there’s a drunk character if that makes you uncomfortable. There’s also a slur against lgbt people used.

Words: 1,968

Notes: The title is from The Stigma (Boys Don’t Cry) by As It Is. This is the thing with the LGBT main character that I’ve had a few different people tell me they’d be interested in :) I’m having a lot of fun writing and plotting this so far, so let me know if you enjoy!

There were perks to being smaller than most other people in the league. Being an extremely fast and skilled defenseman was one of them.

Being outmatched in every possible articulation, being compared to a chihuahua yapping at a pitbull, everything like that. Which is how he ended up in the penalty box for five fucking minutes, the asshole in the box next to him chirping him the entire time, it seemed like.

“What are you, a fag?”

That was what Mason heard fly by him, aimed at Jost who wouldn’t get into a fight to draw a penalty. Mason knew for a fact that’s what the guy was trying to do. He still took the bait when Tyson didn’t.

Mason was smaller than nearly every player he knew. Watching him get into a fight was exciting yet painful at the same time for anyone with a brain. The other guy was at least six-foot compared to the five-foot-eight Mason. To say it was outmatched…

Mason was going to be lucky if he didn’t come out of this with some scrapes and bruises. A broken nose was pretty likely as well, once he thought about it.

But hearing that word ignited something in him that overtook the reasoning section of his brain and both of them were dropping gloves. Sure, he’d definitely have a black eye tomorrow, but he’d gotten a few good licks in as well.

They still won the game, which was nice.

“Dude, you gotta at least get into it with guys in your weight class.”

“You’re funny, Landeskog. Whole fucking league is out of my weight class,” Mason huffed as he stripped his padding off of his lean torso.

“Yeah, kinda the point,” Zadorov shrugged. “Not your fault you’re smaller, just the way it is.”

“I get it, I’m short,” he ran a hand through his wavy helmet hair and reached down to unlace his skates. “Z, you can fight for me, then. I’ll run my mouth and you can do all the hitting.”

“With you? Don’t take it, man, Wright can go on and on for hours,” Tyson chirped from across the room. That earned him a glove chucked at his face.

“Fuck y’all. I don’t even have a good comeback.”

“Because it’s true!”

Okay, maybe it was true. Mason was just a talker, it’s how it was.

Tyson gave him endless shit about it, but really he didn’t mind. He actually enjoyed just being able to turn his brain off and absorb whatever stuck from what Mason was going on about. Usually it didn’t even matter--ranting about how a show got robbed of some award that doesn’t even matter, spewing information about whatever book he was reading, going off about whatever asshole did something stupid during his day-- Tyson would just let him go until he ran out of steam. Conversations were nice, too, when he was in just a talkative mood as well.

Mason did know how to shut up, though. Sometimes. (Hint: that’s what made him the favorite out of the Wright/Zadorov best friend duo. He could be quieter than Z. They’ve threatened to separate the two on multiple occasions, though.)

“What’d that guy even do to rile you up? You looked pissed,” Nate broke Mason out of his train of thought.

“Just called someone something stupid. I’m not gonna repeat it.”

“He called me a fag because I wouldn’t take the bait for the penalty,” Tyson said soon after. “He’s just a fucking moron because he got a longer penalty than any of us.”

There was an uncomfortable moment as that sunk in, then a few “what the fuck” or “that’s gross” phrases before people moved on to heading to the showers.

Mason was about to sneak away when Tyson called out his name.

“Hey, I wanted to catch you before you hit the shower. You got a second?”

“Yeah, sure. I just have to do some pt kind of stuff before I shower. What’s up?” he offered with a friendly smile.

“I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me. You definitely didn’t have to, but calling him on it drew a ton of attention to it. I think it’s really important to start weeding that shit out of the sport, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Mason smiled. “I--thanks, man. That means a lot to me.”

“‘Course,” Tyson gave a nod. “And you know if you were, like… y’know, gay or… anything, really, I wouldn’t care. And neither would anyone else on the team. It’d totally be okay.”

Mason wanted to give him a reassuring “I know” but couldn’t. Hockey was definitely not the environment known for welcoming lgbt kids and turning them into well-adjusted, accepted adults.

“Thanks,” Mason murmured. “Really, that means a lot.”

“Of course,” Tyson breathed, like he was getting a huge weight off his chest. “Um, yeah. I’ll let you go do your physical therapy stuff now. I’ll see you at the bar after everything’s done here?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna ditch you for my birthday, idiot.”

With an excited smile, Tyson turned and headed in the opposite direction.

Once he reached an area to chill out while waiting for the showers to clear out, Mason sighed, plopping into a chair and resting his head in his hands.

Obviously he knew why Tyson brought up starting to call out homophobia and other bigoted shit they were all used to just overlooking. But why did he bring up the whole ‘we’d accept you no matter what’ thing?

The thought of ‘he was very sensitive to a slur so maybe he’s gay’ never crossed Mason’s mind. That would simply be too easy and rational.

Did Tyson know he was different? What exactly did Tyson know? There was no way Tyson would out him, but still. Trusting people to keep a secret was hard. It was just easier to bottle everything up.

God, he needed to figure this out.

Maybe he’d get drunk enough tonight to just forget for a little while. He didn’t get drunk or even drink all that often, he could let go every now and then.

At the beginning of the night, Gabe took his keys, promising that he’d give them to whoever would be driving Mason home. They all knew for a fact Mason wouldn’t drive drunk, it wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. Honestly, they were more worried about the newly twenty-three-year-old losing them or putting them somewhere so he’d ‘remember where they are later’, which was proven ineffective at the last gathering Gabe threw.

“If you can’t figure out where the stupid keys are, he can come get them in the morning or I can drop them off to him or something,” Gabe rolled his eyes.

“You’re sure you don’t remember where you put them?” JT triple-checked. He’d been the designated driver for a few of them, including Mason, Tyson, and a couple others who had already gotten out to the car.

Mason shook his head. “I’m not even that drunk,” he insisted.

“Uh-huh. Gabe, just let me know if you find ‘em and we can work something out for him in the morning.”

Twenty minutes later, Gabe sent a picture and “anyone know who these belong to?” in the group chat. It was, without a doubt, Mason’s keys, adorned with a keychain reading “DETROIT” in graffiti lettering. He was from Detroit, and everyone knew that he refused to take that keychain off until it literally fell off for some sentimental reason, most likely.

‘Lol where’d you find it?’ someone texted back.

‘My dishwasher. His wallet was there too’

Mason has still never heard the end of that. No matter how hard he tried to explain that when he put them somewhere, it meant that he wouldn’t lose them or buy something stupid online (last time that happened, he bought a thing to hang on a window so your cat could sit on it and sunbathe. Mason has not owned a cat at any point in his life.) and he’d remember where it was once he sobered up.

Of course he still gets relentless shit for it. He wouldn’t expect any different.

Currently, Mason and Z were arm wrestling over a table in the back of the bar, people beginning to call it quits and going home. And with his pride hurt that he could not beat Z in an arm wrestling match, Tyson stole the other’s keys and wallet from Gabe, saying goodbyes and forcing Mason to as well.

“You are blasted, man.”

“Mmph,” he shrugged and laid his head against the passenger window. “I wanna lay down and sleep.”

“You can when I get you home. Gimmie your seatbelt so I can buckle you in.”

Mason followed the order with a small pout, not drunk enough to the point of incoherence but… definitely a little fucked up. Tyson had done this before: dealing with the mopey friend at the end of the night. Mason was definitely one to get mopey or clingy once they left the main event.

“My face hurts.”

“That checks out, buddy. I’ll get you some ice for it back at your place. What?” Tyson continued to ask when Mason stared out the windshield all angsty.

“Still can’t believe I couldn’t beat Z.”

“That guy could slam most of us through a table, don’t beat yourself up.”

“Can’t. Someone already did.”

“You’re full of jokes, huh?”

Mason just grinned sleepily as they pulled into the apartment complex and Tyson had an arm wrapped around his friend to keep him steady. Getting a drunk person to go to bed was usually one of the hardest parts of the night.

“Would you just--”

“I got it,” Mason huffed, fumbling with his keys near the lock of the door.

“Dude.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna wake up my neighbors,” he grumbled, finally getting the door open with a triumphant “see? I’m an adult.”

“I see. Go be an adult and get ready to go to bed,” Tyson rolled his eyes, taking the keys out of the door and locking it behind them.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” he replied quickly.

“You’re drunk, what do you mean you don’t want to sleep?”

“Not tired,” he flopped down on the couch.

“At least get out of your clothes. That way if you fall asleep it’s in pajamas.”

Mason was sprawled out, already clicking through Netflix.

“Fine, I will go get you pajamas. Here,” Tyson pressed a cold compress to a bruise on his face and headed to the bedroom.

“Thanks for driving me,” he heard from the other room.

“‘Course,” Tyson called back. “Here, put these on,” he tossed the clothes at Mason.

“Are you staying here? You can take the guest room, if you want.”

“Sure. Probably easier than trying to get home this late,” Tyson shrugged and headed for the kitchen. As he heard the rustling around of what he assumed was his friend changing, Tyson got a glass of water and painkillers for when Mason woke up.

“I can drive you home tomorrow,” Mason slurred even more heavily as he began getting more tired. He’d managed to get his jeans off and a pair of shorts on before moving onto the shirt. He’d just pulled his shirt off when Tyson walked back in the room with the water.

“Woah,” he said quietly, stopping quickly.

For whatever reason, he’d never realized that he had never seen his teammate and friend shirtless. That was weird, especially when you played sports together for a living. He assumed it was due to the faded scars along his chest, almost in a u-shape under each pec.

He didn’t even know what kind of injury would cause that kind of surgery.

“When did you get surgery?”

Fuck was all that ran through Mason’s head.

[mobius-prime]

273. Sonic the Hedgehog #200

Turn About is Fair Play

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Matt Herms

Welcome to the two-hundredth issue of the Archie Sonic preboot! It's another big milestone issue, but unfortunately, compared to some of the others it's a little… light on content, if you will. Most of it consists of pages and pages of fighting, some of it with very little dialogue other than "Ugh!" and "Oof!" and "Argh!" It honestly reminds me in a way of those old, early-era issues that were mostly just Sonic and Knuckles beating the crap out of each other in various locales with a few pages before and after to explain why they'd decided to get into a tussle this time - only now, the big fight is between Sonic and, of course, Eggman.

Right off the bat, Eggman makes kind of a weird comment, claiming that Sonic has been a thorn in his side for "fifteen years and more." I say it's weird because no matter how you look at the timeline, it doesn’t really seem to match up. It can't be referring to Sonic's age, because Sonic is seventeen here, and he certainly didn't start fighting Eggman when he was two - the coup hadn't even happened at that point. And it can't be referring to how long the war has been going on for similar reasons. Sonic's been actively carrying on the fight against Eggman and his predecessor for about a decade now, assuming that he and the others formed the core Freedom Fighter group when he was around seven, but that still leaves several years unaccounted for. The only thing I can think of to make this comment make sense is that Eggman is specifically thinking about his previous war with the Sonic of his home zone. We know that his history was virtually identical to Sonic Prime's up until the events of Endgame, during which he roboticized himself to avoid losing outright. We can assume the fight went on a couple more years from there, and after his long stint in space as a computer program (anyone ever think about how weird Archie Sonic lore is) Eggman has been waging war anew against the Prime Zone's Freedom Fighters, and we can assume this has gone on for nearly two years at this point as well considering Sonic's year in space. I suppose, considering all that, that it could technically add up to fifteen years, but it's still a weird comment to make. Then again, we know that Eggman has been kind of losing it lately, and Sonic's careless and mocking attitude certainly doesn't help.

As their battle begins, Sonic smugly begins checking off the list of every way Eggman has failed to keep his empire in order - how "a group of kids with no real training" have continuously thwarted him in every way, how his failures always translate directly into wins for the heroes, and how even in the times he has won, such as at Knothole, it's been temporary at best, with the heroes coming out even stronger on the other side. Eggman sputters in a fury as Sonic continues to list off his failures, how he doesn't even control nearly as much of the world as he claims and that even in the places he does control the people hate him and want him gone, and how in the end, Sonic is confident he can beat him again just like always. What follows is what I mentioned before, just pages and pages of fighting as Sonic continues to trash the Egg Spider and Eggman grows more and more apoplectic and incoherent until he's reduced to screaming about how much he hates Sonic. After a good bit of bashing and spindashing, the Egg Spider is finally reduced to scrap, and Sonic, feeling quite pleased with the way their final battle has gone, strikes a nice victory pose.

And then… this happens.

Yikes. We knew that Eggman was slowly losing his grip on reality, but this is just downright disturbing. Sally tries to report to Sonic on the team's success and the Legion's retreat, but finds herself distracted by Eggman's gibbering tantrum, asking Sonic what the hell he did to him. Sonic is equally at a loss to explain what's going on, but Snively's voice interrupts the both of them, grimly informing them that this final defeat has completely broken his uncle's mind in half.

I'll admit, the first time I read this I did not see this coming despite the lead-up - it almost seemed like too much, like something of this caliber wouldn't make it into a comic for kids (well, more like teens at this point - I feel like the storylines have long since gone beyond being for young children). And yet in the end, I feel like that's exactly why Ian is so beloved as the head writer - he was willing to take things seriously, include real stakes for the characters and write in plot developments like this that would completely change the status quo. Eggman has been consistently losing his way through every Sonic game, comic, anime, and every other piece of media for decades now, and at some point, in some canon, it was liable to break him entirely. Just, no one ever expected it to be this dramatic.

Everyone else bursts into the room, and they begin to celebrate wildly as they realize the war is over, though Sonic stands amid the chaos with a look of blank disappointment on his face. Sally recovers fairly quickly and begins crying from happiness, using Nicole's handheld to broadcast the message of their victory to the entirety of New Mobotropolis, where the citizens are celebrating wildly in the streets. As they make their way back out of the Eggdome, Tails and Amy excitedly get Sonic to recount the battle to them, but he's less than enthusiastic, missing his usual dramatic flair. When questioned on his attitude, or lack thereof, he frowns and claims that he's merely tired after the fight, which they accept without question.

I'm not surprised Sonic doesn't feel right about all this. I'm sure he thought the finale to the big showdown was going to be, well, epic, with Eggman angrily sputtering about how he'll get him next time only to have his ego taken down a notch by Sally's end-of-the-war speech. It can't feel at all good to beat your enemy so hard that he literally goes insane, even if he is a genocidal maniac. After all, Sonic isn't cruel - he doesn't fight for the express purpose of torturing Eggman, he fights to protect the people and the world he loves. Causing such extreme mental anguish just isn't something he's interested in, and yet his actions have led to it anyway, causing some serious emotional conflict for him. But hey, he's Sonic, and in the end he's able to pick up and carry on, satisfied that in the long run he's done the right thing. And hey, it is the end of the war! Time to enjoy, for the second time, a new era of peace and prosperity with no more dire threats to the world and his family and friends' safety! Right? R…right?

Of course not! Where would we be if there was no more conflict in this comic?! I mean, granted, there was an entire era in the past dealing with precisely that - how child soldiers deal with trying to live an ordinary life after fighting an adults' war - but it'd be kinda weird to try to just rehash all that a second time over. Plus, Sonic has grown up since then - I feel like if the story truly did end here and there were no more villains to face, Sonic would ultimately be able to adjust and live a happy and fulfilling life without all the constant hero work to keep him busy. But as it is, there is another situation brewing - don't tell me you forgot about Snively's little online romance! After securing Eggman in a straightjacket and padded cell within the Eggdome, Snively makes his way to the landing pad on top of the Eggdome, ordering all the Legion's members to meet him up there. He's ready to introduce them all to their new leader, who will be taking over the running of the Eggman Empire now that its namesake is, ahem, indisposed. And this new ruler just so happens to be…

T-the Iron Queen? You mean that one-off character from waaayyy back in StH#60? Yeah, see, I did hint at this back in my review of that issue. I think I've mentioned it before, but Ian is very fond of bringing back old, forgotten characters and concepts from the earliest days of the comic and breathing new life into them, finding ways to weave them back into the story to become much more interesting than they had been before. The Iron Queen, here, is a technomancer, and quite power-hungry (and apparently has a thing for tiny gremlin men, despite being married to a gigantic Mobian bull). I will admit that she's not my favorite villain of the series, but she's not a bad one at all, and indeed it's her arrival that catapults us out of the sixth era and into the seventh, as we get ready to face down the menace of her Iron Dominion! Man, so much for peace. Sonic never does get a break, does he?

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Friends

*Not My Gif*

Request: Omggg number 4 & 10 from prompt list #2. With Remus Lupin please!!

Requested by: @roslea

Post Date: 9-13-19

Paring: Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

~Master Lists~

~Favorites~

“Do you try to be stupid or does it just come naturally?” Remus laughed when James cocked a brow at your question.

“What’s going on with you two?” He asked, nodding in between you and Remus who took a seat on the couch with his arms crossed, next to Sirius.

You scowled at him before giving James your whole attention. “Remus thinks he’s a better flirt than I am.”

“Not again.” Sirius mutters as he shoves his face into his hands, hiding the eye roll and annoying groans coming from him.

Unfortunately Remus didn’t miss his incoherent words. “What?” He pressed, hoping Sirius would spill but he just plastered a fake smile across his face.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“So how do you decide who’s better?” You looked at James, smirking and raising your brow and he seemed to catch on when he let out a loud groan.

“What? What are they going to do?” Peter asked as Sirius let out a bark of a laugh.

“She’s going to flirt with James.” He informed Peter and smirked at you, earning a wink in return.

“No. Y/N you can’t bring us into every squabble between you and Moony. There’s something new every week!” James complained as you put your hands up, telling him there really isn’t any other option. You turned to Remus, trying to figure out his part before Lily took the seat next to you. No one said anything as you caught Remus’ attention, nodding towards Lily herself. His eyes widened as he shook his head but you stood your ground, giving him your best smirk until he sighed. Sirius and Peter caught onto your silent exchange as Peter snickered, gaining Lily and James’ attention.

“Lily,” Remus began as he glared at you before devoting his attention to the red head. She took a glance between you and him, furrowing her brows. “You look beautiful today.” He complimented as you held back a laugh. That was all he got? James’ mouth dropped as he realized that Remus needed to flirt with Lily for this stupid contest.

“No. No, no, nope.” He stood up, planting himself between Lily and Remus causing you, Sirius, and Peter to squeak out laughing. Lily, the poor girl, just sat there confused, seeing her best friends all laughing at James’ reaction.

“What’s going on?” She asked with a slight uncomfortable chuckle and you took pity on her, explaining to her the argument you and Remus had before she nodded her head. “Why don’t you just flirt with each other?”

The room went silent as you all took in her words. Never in a million years did you think you’d end up flirting with Remus but everyone thought that was an excellent idea.

“Yes, that way you don’t need to drag all of us down with you.” Sirius pointed out as you bit your lip, trying to find any way this could end up wrong. Remus seemed to be having the same problem as you because soon he turned to you with shrugging shoulders.

“First one to give in loses?” He offered as you stuck your hand out to shake.

“Wait!” Lily yelled as she slapped your hand away, making you frown. “Why not make it more interesting?” She rolled her eyes when everyone continued to stare at her, waiting for her to continue. She pulled you to her as she whispered in your ear. “Seduce him.”

If you were drinking at that moment, your drink would’ve been spit all over your friends. But instead you settled with just freezing in your place. Sirius moves in front of you, waving a hand in front of your face but you didn’t move.

“I think you broke her.” He mused before grabbing you by the arms and shaking you.

“Stop.” You pleaded as Sirius stopped his violent shakes and you tried to calm your dizziness. You looked at Lily who was smirking before turning to Remus. You sighed as you pulled your hair out of its pony, letting it fall in front of your face as you ran a hand through it to fluff it a little. James, Sirius, and Peter were completely silent as they watched you lean forward onto your knees, thanking the fact that your shirt was low enough to show a little cleavage but not enough where you were showing everything. Remus gulped as he tried to keep himself from looking down at your chest.

“Look, we’re friends but if you want I would be totally down for sex if you are.” You heard a small gasp leave Remus’ lips as you gave yours a lick, pulling your bottom one between your teeth. Sirius was going crazy next to Remus as James and Peter endlessly questioned Lily as to what she whispered to you. She didn’t say anything, instead focusing on the fact you and Remus hadn’t lost eye contact. Lily had her suspicions between you and Remus. After the way you two act there is no possible way you don’t like each other. Remus’ cheeks grew a bright red as he tried to think of any way to respond to that.

“Yeah? Well...” he began before stopping himself, completely distracted by the glint in your eye as you pushed more hair out of your face, missing a few dangling pieces that tickled your cheek. Remus found himself physically holding back from pouncing on you right then. The boy was lost, you were Y/N and Remus, Gryffindors most famous non-couple. Why had he all of a sudden want that to change based on one sentence.

“I think I won.” You joked as you pretended to count some sort of score on your fingers before smiling at him. Everyone was quiet as they watched the interaction, not able to look away from the train wreck that was your relationship.

“That’s not fair. Moony didn’t even get to try!” Sirius yelled as he hid the smile on his face, wanting to look upset but he didn’t know if he had it in him.

“Nice shirt. Though it would look better on my floor.” He attempted as you scrunched your face together, letting him know it wasn’t any good but he didn’t care, in fact he already knew that, he was completely fine with that. “Ok, you win. You’re the better flirt.” Remus agreed as he copied your stance, bringing your bodies a lot closer than they were a few seconds ago. Lily was the first to break your way to comfortable silence.

“Y/N, You came up with that answer really fast. Could it be perhaps you had really mea-“

“Okay!” You almost yelled to interrupt Lily and stood up. Remus stared at Lily, trying to contemplate her words as you refused to look at him. “I’m going to head to the library really fast to grab a book for... potions.” You winced at your obvious pause and picked up your robes, shrugging them on and practically sprinting out of the room.

The library was quiet as you entered and immediately took the first seat you found. Lily was gonna expose you. Sure the bet with Remus was all fun and you couldn’t help but feel a little lightheaded when Remus and you just admired each other, but Lily was right. You came up with that line WAY to quickly. Did you... did you want Remus? Nope, no way. Yours and Remus relationship isn’t anything besides a constant competition. A new one everyday that people are getting tired of but you didn’t care because seeing the way Remus’ face would redden when you bested him or the way he would smirk and laugh so enthusiastically when you’d take the loss, it made everyone else’s opinion not matter. In fact Remus seemed to be the only one who could get under your skin or make you feel like the happiest person in the world. He’d put the competition aside when ever he needed to make sure you were okay and you’d do the same. You didn’t want or even liked- oh shit maybe you did.

A hand smacked down in the table in front of you as you jumped right out of the seat, landing in the floor before hearing shushes around you from your squeal. You ignored them, only looking up to see the shaggy brown haired boy you were literally just thinking about.

“What do you want Rem?” You questioned, playing off the bright blush in your face as he pulled you up. He didn’t say anything as you spun towards the book shelf, running your eyes across the spines. Remus’ breath seemed to be taken from him as he saw you, knowing that his next actions could change anything.

“Lily told me.” He muttered as you squinted glancing over your shoulder to him.

“And what did she tell you?”

“She said she thinks we fancy each other.” Yeah, you were screwed. Remus had expected you to deny it or mess with him or something but you not saying anything, not even looking at him made him believe your feelings weren’t exactly platonic either. He waited, waiting for you to talk to him or make a sassy remark or something, but you finally turned to him and he saw the conflict in your eyes.

“Look, we’re friends-“ You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Remus locked his lips with yours, causing all the breath to be knocked right out of you. It was honestly better than you could’ve imagined and by the time he pulled away you couldn’t even open your eyes because of how dizzy you were.

“Would friends do that?” He whispered as his mouth ghosted over yours, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand straight. His eyes never left your face, trying to memorize all the little happy things about it in case you yell at him or smack him. But you didn’t yell, actually you did smack him, in a way. You smacked your lips with his, a quick gesture that if he hadn’t felt it, he wouldn’t have known it happened. You looked like a puppy, staring up at him with these adorable eyes that all he could do was fall into.

And fall he did.

Thoughts?

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[staycatcher]

Anguish 002- Anarchy

“Out of genuine free will, I, Lee Minho, exercise the divine right to reject my sacredly designed soulmate.”

Member: Lee Minho / Lee Know x Femme Reader (she/her)

Au: FratBoi! Minho + Rejected Soulmate AU

Genre: Angst, with added fluffy flashbacks past life to make it enjoyable lol

Rated T for a #@&% ton of swearing, violent bodily reactions/extreme pain, hospitals, drunk people, altercations, and just general intensity 👀💀

Note: It skips around a lot, a border is before and after the past life flashbacks/dreams and after those, it’ll say when/where it’s set!! Hmu if it’s still confusing~

Word Count: 4.3k

Anguish series 2/?-  001, ~002~ 

Edited: 210116 (Original: 190918 )

‼Edit: rewritten to exclude Kim Woojin, so the characters in the plot are now all scrambled and changed from the original!! If you’ve read this before- first of all thank you so much🥺💓💞- secondly you might want to reread because of the supporting character changes going forward!!😅🥰💝‼

Your eyelids flash open in the backseat of an unfamiliar sedan, the car jostling your seatbelt-less form about as it’s swerving fast down the side streets in the dead of night. Being brought back to consciousness unfortunately also brought agony that unconsciousness saved you from. Your current state knocks the breath right out of you, forcing out pathetic whimpers for breaths of needed oxygen, alerting the people in the front. 

“Y/n?” Through the agony just of just being conscious, you hazily hear Jamie’s highly concerned voice. This is the first time in your decade-long friendship that you’ve heard her voice sound like this. Though, you only hear your surroundings very blearily and distant as if you were some sort of different time and space. Her voice- it was full of fear!

 You just croaked out an incoherent sound as an acknowledgment as best you could between gasps for air. That’s all you could conjure, with your heart and brain pulsing magma through your entire body. Your insides must be neon at this point from the excessive heat and energy surging through you. You felt as if you were burning up, burning [alive]. Not even the overflowing tears, sweat, pathetic snot, and slobber could cool you from the intensity of the fever.

“Is she awake?!” 

“I think so? She’s making weird noises and she’s moving!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh-” The rattling car slowed down a bit.

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE FUCKING ROAD, SEUNGMIN!” 

“I’M SORRY! JESUS!” The car sped right back up, maybe even faster than before, ramming into a harsh turn which came with an entourage of groans from both the vehicle and its passengers. 

“Fucking hell!” 

“I said I’m -fucking- sorry!”

“Just keep driving, for Christ’s sake! And I’ll keep giving you directions!-”

“Okay, okaayy!!~ God!”

You’re not quite sure how much time passed from the time when you awoke in this godforsaken sedan and when it reached a full stop. It could have been five minutes, fifteen, or an hour. The torture of rejection had you blacking out frequently on the turbulent ride to this unknown location. Your main focus is only on the sole fact that your soul was getting ripped apart each second, a chaotic ride was the least of your worries. The only stream of consciousness you remember is that you threw up in the backseat once or twice, and all-consuming, volcanic pain and fever. You also had no idea where in the hell they were taking you, and you weren’t in a state to care. Hell, you didn’t even know what was up and what was down, what year it was, you had much more prominent, violent, bodily reactions that took up all of your bleary concentration. 

Once the car did reach a full, screeching stop you heard the grating metal of the rush of seatbelts being undone, the jerk of the car’s ignition switch off with a gritty rattle of keys, doors being ripped open, slammed shut, only for the doors near you being ripped open in succession. It made your ears bleed, or maybe they were already bleeding. Wait, are my ears bleeding? 

“Holy shit!!”

“How in the hell did she puke that much?! My fucking car!” 

“Oh my god, Seungmin, shut the fuck up! We’re not worried about that right now! Help me carry her in!” 

“Okay, okay, okay! Jesus!” 

“Here, I’ll come on your side.” Another door slam. Soon after, you were startled to feel a pair of comparatively cold hands latch at each of your arms and gently ripping them out from under you, pitchy sounds of disapproval screeched out of you before they began dragging your wrecked body towards them. You weren’t conscious enough to feel the amount of humiliation you normally would at being fussed over like this, or how you may appear or what sort of public decency you might have. You could only spit out loud incomprehensible sounds of discontent. So out of it, you had no choice but to submit to whatever they were doing and allow yourself to be helped, even if you currently feel like your suffering is being heightened significantly. Your eyes were still swirling around inside your head in dizziness, brain throbbing, being upright only aggravated your body more with the forced movements and new changes in circulation. 

“And up!~” That was met with groans from all of you.

“Fucking hell there’s more of her than I remember!!” 

“Shut the hell- Literally no one has ever asked you anything, Seungmin.”

“It’s not like that! I’m saying she’s tall, Jamie! Why is she so long-”

”For the love of fucking theater, please put a sock in it. I thought you were supposed to be the quiet one!” You can barely hear them by now, their voices blurred away further and further until you once again float away and away, right back into the mercy of sweet, sweet unconsciousness. 

Soft snowflakes fall upon your warm cheeks- happy, smiling cheeks. It was only because of said precious snowflakes melting against your warm skin that you were made aware that your cheeks must be as red as the scarf your grandmother knitted for you. Despite all this snow, all you could see was what was vaguely forty or so yards away from you: A single figure among the rest, a handsome young man with whom you felt an immediate pull. 

Your train was about to leave and the rambunctious morning rush is now in full swing. The train you were supposed to catch to leave to a new city with a future waiting for you would take off soon, you kept trying to remind yourself. You couldn’t risk losing your train for a random stranger! But, despite all of your best efforts to carry on, you felt no urge to go and chase a suddenly meaningless mode of transportation. You felt full all of a sudden, complete, all because of some blurry stranger in front of you, whose silhouette you could barely even see amongst the hoards of people bustling past you in every direction.  

My god, does this mean- Could it be?! This feeling, this person, is that- 

“Is that ‘You’?” You heard your voice call out, loud enough to yell over the hustle and bustle, your eyes twinkling wide in wonder. 

Nothing else in this world could matter even half as much as this person in front of you. This person you hardly got glimpses of in-between rushing people. Not even the train that would take you to a safe, guaranteed future, seemed to weigh as much to you as this stranger. Just glimpses of this man, made things feel right, in a way you couldn’t begin to explain. A feeling deep, deep inside you told you that everything in your life has led to this. That you came to this train station to see him, and not to leave the city to another. If it was socially acceptable to slap yourself in the face for what you are currently thinking, what you are currently doing- you’d do it. You were going to miss this train, your ticket was not refundable, you had an opening to pursue-

“I’d assume so!” He tried to get out loudly all the while shoving through, inching closer. Without a doubt, he was just as affected as you. Seemingly, entirely more thrilled like he had no other plans than to meet you, despite the blatant fact he must have some. He’s at the train station at daybreak for god’s sake! 

“Where are my manners? I’m sorry!! My mother would have a fit- raising me better than this!” His tone was infinitely more friendly and silly than you would have predicted, especially in comparison with the words he said. Why is he smiling so wide while apologizing? For some reason you loved it! This must be one of his many quirks.

“My name is Minho Lee.” He came even closer as he was saying this with cool, confident footsteps inching your way despite the busy, disruptive rushed bodies, all with their own lives, their own hurried paths. All that was important to you suddenly was this beacon of a person in front of you, whose DNA was handwoven by the celestial, specifically for you, a matched set. 

“I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n- It-it’s a pleasure!” You offered your hand for him to shake. You didn’t even know what to say, you just relied on your natural politeness and ingrained manners to get those few words out. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss L/n.” And then he smiled, his angelic feline smile sealing the deal. Just with his sparkly smile and an electric handshake, all your doubts fade away. 

Park Jinyoung Memorial Hospital

Room 3025

“-I don’t want him here!! I’m not letting him come in here!“ You come to, the sound of a vaguely familiar voice waking you up. None of your other senses seem to be working well besides your hearing, and even that was dubious, barely catching any of the words that were being said, almost as if you were underwater. 

“Jamie! It’s been ten hours! He’s her soulma-“ Ten hours- since what?

“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass, Chris!! He’s the reason she’s like this! He could hurt her even more!!“ Jamie and Chris? Jamie and Chris- where have you heard those names again?

“Jamie, shut up!! Her monitors will go off, they said she might still be able to hear- you’ll stress her out!!” Monitors?! Monitors, what places have monitors? Are they talking about you? You think so- You tried to open your eyes to investigate, but they refused to budge.

“‘Think this is bad, Seungmin?! Think what’ll happen if Minho walks through the door-“ Huh?! Minho!! That name sounds familiar- The blaring sound of a heart rate monitor beeping interrupts your thoughts before you can continue much further.

“Don’t say his name! She’s reacting negativ-“ They have to be talking about you! The heart rate has to be yours right- you reacted and then the heart rate spiked- then the sound happened. WAIT, YOU’RE IN A HOSPITAL! You’re in a hospital and hooked up to things! Your monitors give off an alert, though that doesn’t shut up these people you’re hearing. 

“Oh?! So you don’t want me to say his name but you want me to allow his unstable ass to come on in and get some visiting hours on the books?! How does that even make sense, Chris!?” Oh wow. Okay, this is- a lot. 

“Jamie, be realistic-”

“No you guys be realistic! Y/n’s parents are flying out here and they’re allowing me to speak on Y/n’s behalf until they land. And I’m not allowing that fucker to come anywhere near this room until she’s healed a little-” Seriously, what in the hell is going on right now? So much is happening all at once, you just woke up- What happened?! You want to go back to your dreams, not a whirlwind of whatever the fuck this is.

“Who says she’ll heal? Her soul is dying-” Hold up! Pause. What now- ‘dying’?! DYING? WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY SOUL? 

 “SHE’S D-“ The voice tried to continue, only to be cut off, but it’s to be expected at this point though. All you can do is stand and watch… well in your case, lay down and listen... to try and help you make sense of this.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“It’s true! Y/n’s-”

“I said don’t… the two of you can leave now.” Oh god- this is just getting uglier and unpleasant by every shouted word. What on earth did you wake up to, well... you’re not completely awake to be fair. You can’t seem to feel or move. It's like you’re just floating around, distantly experiencing your sense of sound.

“Jamie!”

“Leave.”

“Jamie, I’m her friend too you can’t just-” They’re my friends!! That’s how I know these people! Finally some answers!

The sound of a door being burst open met with quick footsteps. “Is everything alright in here? What’s going on? Do I need to get a Doctor? Security?” Hearing the distress of this person made your heart race faster, yet again, nerves heightening by this highly concerned person storming in. 

Wait- what were you even in here for?

“No-”

“They were just about to leave, ma’am-“

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask all three of you to leave. We have to calm her down and then run some tests. It seems that Y/n's vitals became unstable again. We’ll contact you, Jamie, and her parents when we’re done, and you can come back.” 

You were out in the country, on your way to fetch some water from the well for you and your oversized family. Being a frequently forgotten middle child, you often get away with hiding away in these fields, perhaps with a book or some sewing project you worked at, or perhaps just taking in the sun’s rays, cloud gazing, or napping like a kitten in the pleasant sunlight. Alas, today wasn’t so kind to you and as your younger brother who was usually charged with this task, fell sick in bed, thus the task was passed along to you. 

The well wasn’t too far, a nice walk for some. But all this time could be spent doing something more fun, something filled with more imagination than someone your age should have. Something curious or something that instilled peace in your heart. Something that didn’t involve hauling water in buckets back to the cottage without it sloshing it all over the place, spilling it, and splashing onto your layers in your rush to get back. 

Out of breath and traveling back with a heavy wooden bucket filled to the rim with water in each hand, your hand-me-down clad self began walking back along the dirt road. When you finally decide to look ahead and not at the buckets, you spy two people on horses trotting your way. You shake your head a few times making sure that what you were seeing was actually happening and not one of your daydreams.

Today was not a day full of your mind's little tricks, this was happening. It was made real as each second drew nearer. The two seemed to slow down their trotting as if to approach you. As they grew closer, the clearer they became, making it all the more apparent that they were in some sort of uniform, clearly of higher status within the military. Your eyes grew to the size of the chipped plate you ate upon this morning. It wasn’t often you’d see or interact with anyone with a status of any kind, much less outside of the village, right outside your family’s humble cottage doors. 

Eventually, the two came to a complete stop in front of you. The first man on your right seems to have a stern look despite his pretty lips, he could only be described as beautiful. His face was angular yet soft but his aura made it feel sharp, his presence alone felt important. He cleared his throat, right when your eyes were about to wander to his companion, who’s eyes you could feel began to take you in. You gasped in realization, quickly set down your buckets, and deeply bowed, paying your overdue respects. You nearly forgot to, too startled by their presence, to say the least. 

“I beg your pardon, sirs! It’s not often I see military in the area, it certainly is a shock! Please forgive my manners!” You wobbly got out, still bowing at a ninety-degree angle and looking down low at your worn shoes, too embarrassed to look up now. They could beat you for your disrespect if they wanted to. Your mother would have killed you herself if she found out. 

“Let it rest, Sergeant.”  You heard a downright musical voice chide the soldier you made eye contact with earlier before continuing. “The poor girl is spooked, to say the least! Not much unlike that new recruit- what’s his name- Jeongin! Not unlike Jeongin’s horse!” You couldn’t hold in the snort at his execution of what you’re assuming is supposed to be a good-natured joke at your expense to ease tensions. He seemed to be just as flustered as you, his delivery mocked himself more than he could’ve attempted to mock you!

 When you finally decide to look up, you instantly make eye contact with him. Unfortunately, you become even more ‘spooked’ than before! This man was astonishing, completely, and utterly astonishing. He looked as if he were carved out of stone, but his voice was so sweet and mischievous. He was the sort of contradiction you’ve read about in books, you still couldn’t fully comprehend if this is just another one of your daydreams or your reality. His radiant features almost make you fall over before regaining balance, but not without emitting humiliating noises that had the two of them snickering.

 And you thought that other guy was pretty! Just one moment of eye contact with this one before immediately feeling tingles from your head to your toes and your face became even hotter now; hotter than the sun. 

“My soulmate?” He gasped in amazement, amazement at you. His eyes lit up like he was handed the keys to a castle for a weekend. He’s full of newfound energy and leaned a bit too much on the flirtatious side for your face to handle. Your face could only get so red. He was testing your body pigment’s limits and he didn’t say more than a few sentences. 

“Soulmate?” You whispered, fully astonished now. Your brain is surely gonna fry any second now. Your unrelenting plate-sized eyes zooming across the entirety of his being, trying to take it all in at once with the wonder of an astronomer looking at the night sky for the first time.

“You know what this means, Sergeant Hwang?” 

“Lieutenant , we have t-”

“It means I have some parents to meet!” 

“What are you- you haven’t even asked for my name!” Your voice ripped itself out of you without your permission, your sentence could only be described as informal.

“Right, you’re quite right, even if you were a bit informal, I’ll have to forgive you for that now that I have been equally as such.” Then all of a sudden he began to dismount the horse, making your eyebrows fly to your hairline. He quickly dismounted the horse with the grace of a dancer, and immediately began to approach you. While all this was happening, ‘Sergeant Hwang’ had no problem gawking at you and his superior, but you could hardly care. Most of your energy focused on your sense of sight now that he was coming out of the now blinding setting sun and off his high horse, literally. And what a sight to behold he truly was. His gorgeous, generously lashed eyes looking right into yours, now only a respectable foot away from you.

“What’s your name then, my love?” He asked, reaching for your hand, instantly giving you both a zap which makes you both giggle in awe. Just the touch of him had you toasting in your high collared cotton. The sizzling increased but the realization set in, your hands were the two final pieces to the puzzle. Nothing in your sheltered, naive world made so much sense or felt so right like this.

“It’s- it’s Y/n.~” You breathed, looking up from your connected hands into his sharp facial features that became soft with endearment, crystal eyes gleaming at you in response.

Sigma Kappa Zeta Fraternity House

Twelve hours ago

“WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING MINHO?!” Changbin started chasing after Lee Minho who already made it the majority of the way up the narrow, carpeted stairs. Changbin was outraged that he’d pull this shit, especially at a time like this.

 For some reason, in his mind, he thought that when Minho found his soulmate, his reckless behavior would cease. Alas, he witnessed with his own two eyes, Minho did just do the unthinkable and rejected the very person that was made for him. Shock and anger didn’t even begin to describe how Changbin felt. He had to get to the bottom of this, this just didn’t make any sense. This behavior just wasn’t acceptable anymore. Minho has gone too far. He could no longer tolerate his friend’s bullshit. Someone had to collect him and knock some sense into him!

If Changbin had to be the one to knock some sense to Minho he would. When he saw the way Y/n and Minho looked at each other, he was ecstatic that it was you he was destined for. He’d never admit to it unless probed, but he may or may not had eyes for you a semester or two ago.

Noting your understated beauty and the unabashed quirks like how you only sat in odd positions, the excessive amount of pens and highlighters you liked to use, and your unrivaled cuteness despite your grunge exterior. He knew you could be just the right person butter Minho up, but he didn’t even let you say a sentence to him before he severed the celestial bond before booking it the hell out of there without a second thought.

What Changbin wouldn’t give to find his own soulmate, his one and only, and to see how quickly Minho just threw his away- No, Changbin couldn’t just stand there and watch! Minho wasn’t being rational, he probably wasn’t even thinking at all! He was being completely and utterly selfish, a fucking coward.

Changbin was tailing after Minho now, catching up closer and closer with each stride through the masses of drunk or high college kids. Minho was beginning to run with a limp, palming at his chest, as he was shoving his way through crowds of endless people partying their sorrows away. The younger one started to notice the closer he got, the more clearer it was to see that his friend looked off. Like he was injured, or maybe seriously sick. As if he was not only running from you but also running away from the symptoms and the consequences of his actions. 

Changbin barely made it in time to catch Minho when he inevitably doubled over in pain, shouts of which were being swallowed down, only bits and pieces coming out as chokes and grunts, and he refused to even look at Changbin. Completely and utterly ashamed, and full of frustration as he was trying to get Changbin off of him. But changbin was easily stronger than him in this state. The swarms of people on the main level just aloofly made a bit of a way for the two boys, with a roll of the eyes, just assuming it was another drunkard wilding out with a friend coming after him.

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Minho?!” Changbin interrogated, holding Minho at his shoulders with eyes studying him with the disappointment of a father and the confusion of a child.

“Ssstop- just- fUCk! Let go of me-“ Minho was thrashing in his arms, at this point he rendered a fish out of water, in dire need of something out of reach to breathe clearly. Beginning to freeze up as well as he hissed breaths in and out, acting as if he was going to pass out soon if Changbin didn’t do something, but what exactly, Changbin had no idea. 

Changbin has only heard distant horror stories of people rejecting their soulmate, shit like his sister’s friend’s brother’s cousin. Never in his life did he think he’d witness such a thing right before his very eyes. Before now, he didn’t even know what the incantation even was to reject a soulmate! Was there an incantation to undo it? Was there more than one to reject someone and if so did it need a specific matching reverse incantation? Does Minho know the reversal to the one he recited? Or could you even reverse it in the first place-

“Minho!!” Changbin gripped him by the shoulders this time, forcing his thrashes to a stop, though Minho was still huffing and puffing far too much to be just from the quick dash he did. “How do you reverse this!?”

“It’s too late, it’s too late, it's too laaaate~!“ Minho wallowed, practically blubbering, his eyes dazed and distant.

“Get over yourself!!” Changbin gritted his teeth before smacking him across the face, shaking his own head in disbelief. 

“OWW- wHAt the fU-“

“I said, get over yourself!” Changbin clutched at Minho tighter, forcing him to look into his fiery eyes. “Think of others for once and grow the fuck up, already! You got yourself in this mess, now how do you get yourself out of it?” 

“I did it out of free will-” Minho gasped for air, glaring his once sharp eyes at him. “It won’t be easy-” With each second passing by Minho’s breaths became more labored, his body twitching and stiff with intensity, veins popping out, pleading for help. 

Unlike the quick wildfire of pain you went through, Minho experiences a slow, dull pain creeping up him, leaving him begging for it to be over before it even really began. Drawn out, slow and steady in the worst way, with each minute he began to wish it were harsher or to get it over with. This dull, icy knife cutting at him slowly, was truly torturous, like a death from a thousand cuts. 

Changbin, on the other hand, was honestly so disgusted with this entire situation, and the fact it was out of his best friend’s own doing, made it even worse for him to deal with.

 “I don’t care how hard it is!! I want to know how to fix it!!” Changbin scorned and silently prayed to the universe to give him the patience to deal with Lee Minho for the rest of the long night he knew they had ahead of them. 

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 6 – Frankenstein’s Secret

“Goddamn it.”

Frankenstein spat out a contemptuous grumble, stowing away his Dark Spear. His goal was to keep the monster in his grip for 3 minutes, but the stopwatch in his pocket was marked with digits 1 and 13, a record 30 seconds shorter than the previous one.

Despite the shortness of time lapse, the chamber looked utterly disastrous, plastered with dark purple on every corner of its floor, walls, and ceiling. Frankenstein could not help marveling how he was standing on pieces of tiles instead of their particles.

“This is gonna cost me another series of days and nights,” said Frankenstein in a biting tone, looking around the calamity he brought upon the chamber once again.

Ever since the nuclear missile launch by Crombell, there had been several changes Frankenstein met.

First, for example, the number of vacancies in his house at Seoul increased. Second, the name engraved on the nameplate in the Ye Ran chairman’s office is no longer his. Third, the diplomatic relation between Lukedonia and wolfkind is now completely and literally on the bright side.

Yes, quite a lot has changed, but what Frankenstein just forced himself to encounter was the biggest and most noteworthy change. And a bad change.

Unlike before, Frankenstein’s power turned unimaginably unstable. The degree of instability was nothing like before. Now a mere act of summoning the Dark Spear has become, metaphorically, trying to make an ice cube stay perfectly unscathed while slamming down a gigantic hammer onto it in full power.

And the missile launch was the genesis of such catastrophic change. Or rather, it all began the minute Frankenstein felt his bond to his master shattered.

*****

Fifteen days ago, when the bond from his contract with Raizel was destroyed, Frankenstein was tortured by the aftermath of his loss. He felt as if the most fundamental root of his soul was broken down. He felt as if he were a prisoner to the extinction of his entire time and existence. Most of all, he felt as if every biological molecule of his body was detonated, and oh-good-heavens, how it hurt.

It was more than a loss. A mother would have deemed it the death of her child. A patriot would have dubbed it the day his country was eternally conquered. Juliet would have identified it the moment she saw Romeo fallen about her. And it hurt.

His pain burned his entity even when he with the rest of his fellow fighters returned to his home. Which is why the first thing he did upon stepping through his door was to make everyone promise that they will leave him alone for a while, so that he could let his powers screech and shriek and scream in mourning annihilation, in a special chamber under the ground.

His control was totally lost as he roared in the center of a storm of black and purple. The last bit of his sense of responsibility forbid him of pulling out his weapon, but he brandished his dark power so viciously even Gradeus would grovel, begging for his mentorship.

The only time in the past he had ever unleashed his power without restraint was when he lost the tug-of-war against his own power and forfeited his mind.

And he had rather wished he would lose his mind, for the pain was unendurable to handle with his sanity intact. Much to his dismay and heartbreak, his mind was at full function, incising his foundational essence with psychological, emotional, and spiritual trauma.

After whipping up a tempest of maddening woe, he fell asleep into a nightmare.

... ....... ...

‘...What?’

... .... r.. s.. F....

‘...What’s that noise?’

..F.. f... n....

‘What...? I can’t hear you...’

...Fr... ...tei... n....

‘I said I can’t hear you... It hurts.’

Frankenstein groaned, enveloped by mysterious noises echoing from eerie darkness.

...s.. s...

‘Shut up. I don’t wanna hear you... Just leave me alone.’

...ss... B...

‘Shut. Up. Just leave me alone...’

..ss. Bo...ss...

‘Please!!!!!’

“Boss!!!!!”

Noises resembling cacophony from unfocused radio were outdistanced by a familiar voice, and Frankenstein’s eyes frantically flashed open as if he were electrocuted.

Almost at the same time, his upper body slashed through the air in elevation, only to shrivel due to bone-wrecking pain that hit his whole body like a lightning.

Forcing himself to ignore his joints writhing in complaint as the result of his rampage, Frankenstein turned his eyes towards the source of the voice and ended up staring directly into the eyes of a man with black-hair-studded-with-white-locks. His eyes were trembling in uneasiness as he was kneeled by Frankenstein’s side.  

“...What are you doing here, Tao?”

“W-what do you mean, what am I doing here? I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m bushed, not brainless. And I know same could be said of you. I’m asking how you got in here, ‘cause I do remember sealing the chamber before... Before all this.”

“Uh... Well...”

Tao, instead of answering, directed his gaze beyond his shoulder, onto the door that was nearly dissipated into debris.

That was a cue for Frankenstein to take in the status of the special chamber designed to cloak and stand against Dark Spear’s power. The door was the least damaged component of the chamber, he noticed. Wherever he locked his eyes upon was marred by dark-purple blurs, as if the apocalypse itself dawned upon the room while Frankenstein was in dark frenzy.

“I could feel your power from up there, so I had to come down. What on earth happened here?”

“...I couldn’t help it.”

Frankenstein hoped he would not have to waste his energy talking, but Tao mouthed something incoherent, hinting that he needed to hear more.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Uh... Actually, I’ve been watching you for roughly a minute.”

“...And?”

“That is, I’ve been watching you asleep. Or I think you were asleep. But when you were on the floor... I could see the Dark Spear’s aura rippling from your body.”

Tao then pointed towards the ceiling behind Frankenstein. There was a crevasse huge enough to hold the Eiffel Tower, dripping with purple aura that Frankenstein could identify anywhere, anytime.

“When I walked up to you, you started to mumble something. And that made the Dark Spear’s aura surge and do that. I would’ve thought you were showing off how strong you can be while on your back, if only I hadn’t seen how your eyes were closed, and your breathing was stable.”

Showing off how strong I am on my back? I don’t recollect beating your head that hard during our past trainings. In normal circumstances, Frankenstein would have jokingly retorted as so.

‘I emitted Dark Spear’s power during sleep?’

This was not the first time his control over the Dark Spear slipped during sleep. His past is an archive of numerous attempts and failures in governing the damned weapon.

However, now his failures are history, a record of his efforts in making friends with the Dark Spear. Ever since he honed his mastery of the Spear, he has never lost grip of his reins, regardless of the intensity or numeral degree of souls the Spear has absorbed.

He was aware that this time, out of his loss and pain, he deliberately bombarded the chamber with his power. He even considered throwing away his reasons to turn into a mad dog. Nevertheless, he did not plan at all to actually lose his control. And the level of damage was way beyond his calculation or expectation.

This chamber was repaired and improved at the time when he made a mimicry of Raizel’s seal with the power of the Dark Spear. In consideration of the chances that the Dark Spear will absorb increasingly stronger souls in the course of struggle against the Union, Frankenstein compounded the chamber’s cloaking integration and defense against Dark Spear’s power. Yet the chamber’s door was nearly unhinged, and Tao even picked up his power from dozens of meters above.

“Boss?”

Tao nervously called Frankenstein’s name, his voice now thicker with concern. Frankenstein had to intentionally change the subject, as he detected fear unparallel in Tao’s eyes.

“...What’s keeping the rest of the team?”

“...For some reason, Takio and M-21 suddenly left for school.”

“And Seira? Regis? Rael?”

“T-they left after they told me they’ll be away for a bit. So did Sir Karious. Since they asked me not to look for them for a while, unless it is absolutely necessary, I doubt they’ll be back by the end of the day.”

“Really...? Good.”

“No, it’s not good! Nothing is good! How can you say it’s good when something is obviously wrong with...”

“Yes, it is. Because I have just one person to silence on this matter.”

Tao gaped at him, quietly questioning his words. Frankenstein straightened his face, serious and devoid of fatigue from days of combat.

“I need a favor, Tao.”

Certain that his house will be empty, the next day, with Tao’s assistance, Frankenstein fixed his chamber as his time and resources allowed for an experiment: using a sample of rapidly-working sleep inducer to see if he loses his control over his weapon whenever he falls asleep.

The results from multiple rounds of experiments that therefore took place were neither helpful nor hopeful, for the Dark Spear’s aura leaked every time he was in slumber.

He wished he was mistaken. Or too imaginative. Or too tired and thus delirious. However, the fact that he always woke up to find Tao (who was in charge of injecting him with rapidly-working awakening drug before things got out of hand) wearing apprehension matching his own killed his hope.

“Maybe... Maybe this is because the Dark Spear absorbed the Blood Stone Crombell was using, at the end of your last battle with Crombell.”

And a hypothesis Tao offered to bring about a change in the atmosphere slaughtered his hope.

Frankenstein cursed the Blood Stone and its copies, as they were the direct or indirect cause of pain and damage for his master and those he held in his heart. But now the abominable stone was part of the Dark Spear – part of him.

The second the terrible realization swept through him, Frankenstein was urged to rip his own skin off his body out of self-abhorrence that exploded like a volcano.

And that was the reason why Frankenstein decided to leave Korea after Raizel’s return. The main reason, of course, was to discover the secret behind Raizel’s return as well as reinvigoration: to find out how in the world the Noblesse managed to not only rise from death but also become healthier than before.

On the other hand, he wanted to secretly resolve his secret. He wanted to separate pieces of the Blood Stone from Dark Spear in one way or another. And in the meantime, he wanted to somehow stabilize his power back to normal.

Hence he had to stay awake with his wolfsbane tonic, in order to prevent himself from discharging Dark Spear’s aura in sleep and to find command over the Blood Stone stuck in his weapon.

‘And here I am, not making progress at all. God, this thing would trash harder and harder whenever I pull it out.’

Sighing heavily, Frankenstein fell to the floor as he was engrossed in thoughts, speculating for how long would he be able to keep his secret a secret when he is now entrusted with Muzaka’s favor.

Until very recently, he has been wary only of his master. Although there is a link between their minds based on their contract, Raizel respected him. He would never inspect his loyal servant’s mind even if he wants to. In other words, his master would be unaware of his distress as long as he is careful. And since he happens to be away from Raizel, technically there is not a chance of getting caught in action by the Noblesse.

In fact, the greatest threat for him as of now is the secret agent Muzaka dispatched for him.

So far Lunark has noted nothing. But there is no guarantee he can keep it that way, especially when that afternoon he could see how attentive and observant she is. And much more interested in him than he had wanted.

‘Hang on. Want? Want what?’

Startled by his own thought, he soon reprimanded himself.

‘What could you possibly want from her, Frankenstein? She may not be an enemy any longer, but she is still the one to be most wary of.’

Pushing back the bitter ache somewhere in his body that rose out of unknown reason, Frankenstein calmed his breathing.

He was already plagued with tons of worries, but he knew what he had to do – get rid of his secret as fast as he can, without letting Lunark learn what is occupying his mind and soul.

‘I should borrow Tao’s hand if I have to. He is the only one who shares my secret.’

As soon as he recalled Tao’s name for once, the three initial members of the RK whom Frankenstein had left behind in Korea popped up in his mind.

‘Which reminds me, I wonder how they are doing with their duties.’

(next chapter)

Yes, this is the reason why Frankenstein had to leave Korea (at least in my fic) in addition to his new quest in discovering the secret behind Rai’s miraculous return to life, which will surely be discussed in this fic later on.

I figured it wouldn’t be so bad to decide that Frankenstein’s Dark Spear (hence his power) got unstable because of the Blood Stone that Crombell used before his demise. In fact, in the last episode of Noblesse Frankie did mention that Dark Spear will be unstable for a while because it absorbed Crombell and his Blood Stone.

Next up, we’ll be revisiting Korea to take a look at a couple familiar faces, one of whom will be an unexpected character long forgotten. :)

[solangelover]

Leave Me or Hold Me Close

Solangelo Week 2k19: Day 7 – “Enemies / Lovers” @solangeloweek

A/N: AU where Will has been a year-rounder since age 8 and Nico since age 11, they’re both now 15 and have an intense rivalry-type thing.

Read on AO3 or FF.net or Wattpad 

“Ugh, just leave me alone! Why do you feel the need to rant at me, Solace?”

Nico stormed out of the infirmary, leaving a steaming Will Solace standing in the doorway.

“Well, maybe if you stopped being an idiot and getting sent to the infirmary, I wouldn’t have to see you so often!” He nearly stomped his feet in frustration as he glared at the retreating back of Nico di Angelo. But Will wasn’t a child, so he threw his hands up and made incoherent noises of rage.

“That stupid, idiot son of Hades! I just—gah!!” Will shadow-boxed the air as he whipped around and stalked back to his desk. His sister, Kayla, simply watched this all go down with a raised eyebrow. Their three-going-on-four-year long hatred of each other was nothing new, but she felt like it was reaching its peak. Something was going to break soon, but with all the fights, she couldn’t tell exactly what.

As soon as Will sat in his chair, Kayla jumped up on his desk and looked over her shoulder at him. “So, how’s life, big guy?”

Will gave her a withering glare, to which she immediately jumped off the desk and put her hands up in surrender. Still, she stood there, arms crossed and waiting for a reply. Will took a deep breath and let out an even deeper sigh. “di Angelo. I just can’t with him! I don’t know what he wants! I try to help him since, hello, I’m head medic and he can’t seem to go one week without ending up here. He’s so dumb I swear. I can’t really avoid him if he keeps needing medical help, so if he doesn’t want to see me then that’s his problem!” He groaned and ran his hands through his hair, effectively disheveling it so he looked a little crazy. Nico was slowly but surely driving him insane.

“Soooo…” Kayla drew out. “What I’m hearing is, you want Nico to be safer because you care about his well-being?”

Will closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. “It’s not like I want him dead, Kayla. Of course I want him to be safer.”

“But you don’t want to see him? Like, at all?”

Will thought about that. He pictured Nico’s annoying face, his harsh glare that was constantly thrown Will’s way, his scowl that always twisted his features. Sometimes, when Nico wasn’t paying attention to Will, he would see Nico look excited, hear him laugh at some dumb joke Percy made, and just be a totally different person than who Will knew. They’d been at camp together for the past few years, and Will couldn’t even remember exactly how their “rivalry” started, but he knew that he was tired of it. It was probably fun in the beginning, but at some point, their insults became real and their fights venomous. Will never knew how strongly he could dislike a person without knowing why.

“Will?” Kayla’s voice brought Will out of his thoughts and back to reality.

He sighed once more and picked his head up to look at his sister. “I’m just tired, sis. I only want some peace in this crazy camp.”

--

“AGHHHH!” Nico threw another pillow against the wall of his cabin. Annabeth suggested it after she walked in one time to the shattering of a lamp, the ceramic pieces joining various other broken things on the ground.

Nico’s latest trip to the infirmary ended in a yelling match between him and the one and only Doctor Solace. Nico knew he was being stubborn, but the guy was insisting that Nico either come in for check-ups more or just not get injured so often. Honestly, did he think Nico liked getting attacked by monsters? Or losing in a sparring match?

Did Will really hate his face that much?

But then Will also asked for him to come in more often, which he wouldn’t do if he didn’t want to see Nico, right?

No, idiota, Nico chided himself. He’s just doing his job. He doesn’t want to see you.

A knock sounded at Nico’s door, jolting him out of his thoughts.

Percy stood in the open doorway (that Nico forgot to close in his rage) with a concerned yet amused look on his face. “Rough day?”

Nico glared as Percy invited himself in, plopping down on the bed across from Nico’s. Meanwhile, Nico took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, opting to sit right there on the floor in the middle of the cabin. He clutched the pillow he was about to throw to his chest, his fists threatening to rip the material.

Percy popped his head over the foot of the bed to better see Nico. He cocked his head expectantly.

Nico sighed. “It’s just Solace, nothing new.”

“Are you… angry at him?”

“No duh, Jackson.” Nico rolled his eyes at the son of Poseidon. What did he think was going on?

“Just checking,” Percy chuckled. “So, what did you do this time?”

“Nothing!” Nico flew the pillow up in the air and it landed a few feet away from him. He glared at it as if he could scare it into coming back to him. “I did nothing at all, just got hurt in training and went to the infirmary. Then he lectured me on safety and limits like I’m a child. So I got mad and we fought and I left.” He was scowling so hard, Percy was sure his face would get stuck like that.

Percy hummed. “Sounds like he just wants you to be safe?”

“No schist, that’s his job,” Nico deadpanned.

“True,” Percy agreed. “But I don’t see him lecturing many other campers.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Why does he hate me so much that he won’t leave me alone?”

“Well, is that what you want? For him to leave you alone?”

“Would be nice,” Nico grumbled.

“I’m serious, Nico.” Percy waited until Nico met his eyes. “Do you want to never see or speak to Will Solace?”

Nico frowned at that and looked down. Did he? He couldn’t really imagine his life without Will in it. Not that he was the center of his life or anything, but Will had been there since he first got to camp. Will had been one of the first kids to talk to him and try to be his friend. But Nico had been having a tough time and it didn’t manifest well with his temper. He didn’t remember exactly what happened, Nico just knew that one day, they were fighting, and simply never stopped.

What would it be like if he just let that all go?

Percy didn’t interrupt Nico’s thinking, knowing that his friend was a big time internal processor, and this was kind of an important question.

Finally, Nico sighed and looked back at Percy. “I don’t know.”

--

That night saw them at the campfire. It was going on as usual, with the loud singing of the Apollo kids and non-stop chattering from the Hermes kids. Everyone sat with their friends, laughing up a storm or making crazy gestures as they told stories.

Will sat with his cabin, as well as Lou Ellen and Cecil. Nico was surrounded by Percy, Annabeth, and Grover, along with other random friends. Both boys kept casting glances at the other, new thoughts running through their minds concerning their relationship.

“Geez, what’s up, Will? Feeling thirstier for some di Angelo than usual?”

“What?” Will squeaked as he whipped around to see Lou Ellen with a smirk on her lips.

“Dude, you keep looking over at him. Just talk to him already.” Cecil dropped down in front of Lou Ellen with a freshly toasted marshmallow.

“Yeah seriously, there’s so much sexual tension between you two, you could cut it with a knife.” To prove her point, Lou Ellen held up a shiny dagger in her hand.

“Lou! Put that away, that’s dangerous!” Will scolded. She grinned widely, and a second later her dagger disappeared in a puff of smoke and mist. Annoying Hecate kids.

“But seriously,” she leaned in. “What’s going on?”

Will sighed, turning fully to his friend so his back was to Nico. “I’m just… thinking. I don’t know what, but I want to talk to Nico. Civilly. I want to be, I don’t know, his actual friend, not his enemy or rival.”

Lou Ellen and Cecil shared a look, then met Will’s eyes with a smile. “That’s a great idea, Will. The gods know your guys’ game of hard-to-get has been going on long enough,” Cecil stated.

Will sputtered, “Will you two stop?? I said I want to be his friend, stop implying!” Will was blushing at this point, and he hoped he could blame it on the firelight. By the looks on his best friends’ faces, it was probably obvious.

“Whatever,” Will shook his hair out as he turned back toward the fire. Maybe he could talk to Nico after the campfire.

--

“Nico, if you keep glancing over there, I will literally lose it.”

Nico turned to see Annabeth mid-eye roll. “What are you talking about?”

“Bro, she’s talking about you constantly looking over at Solace, like this whole night.” Percy slung a comforting arm around his girlfriend, as if Nico was actually causing her stress. “If you wanna talk to him, just get up and go.”

Nico scowled at the couple. “I don’t want to talk to him. I think he’s seen me enough for one day.”

“Oh my gods, Nico. Will doesn’t actually hate you,” Annabeth stated.

“Really? So we just fight constantly for fun?” Nico said sarcastically.

“Ugh! Just shut up already!” Drew called down from a couple rows up the bleachers. The daughter of Aphrodite was always listening in for gossip. “I swear, di Angelo, stop throwing yourself a pity party and go. It’s about time you and Mr. Sunshine end your flirtationship and make some progress. We’ve been sitting on this for years!” She immediately went back to filing her nails.

Nico gaped at her. “What the Hades??” He turned to look at his friends, who all avoided eye contact. “What is she talking about?” When they still didn’t look at him, Nico narrowed his eyes, turning to the one he thought might crack. “Grover, tell me you don’t all think that.”

“Uhhhhhh,” Grover nervously chewed on some soda can, glancing to the side before answering with a high-pitched, “yes?”

“What the…” Nico stood up and fully faced his friends. “I don’t—it’s not—that’s not what’s happening here!” He could feel his cheeks heating up, but he chalked that up to anger.

Unsure of where to go from there, Nico just walked off, glancing back over his shoulder towards Will, who happened to look up at the same time. Their eyes met, noticing something different in Will’s eyes. Before the moment stretched on for too long, Nico turned away and left the campfire.

--

“Nico, wait!”

Nico turned to see Will jogging up to meet him. He stopped before climbing the steps to his cabin as Will reached him, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Why’d you leave early?”

“I was being tortured by my friends. What do you want?” He winced when it came out a lot harsher than Nico intended. Way to start a friendship, di Angelo. “Sorry, I just…”

“No worries, I get it.” Will didn’t think he’d ever heard Nico apologize to him before. Maybe this just might work out. “Um…” He didn’t know exactly how to articulate everything he’d been thinking over. Luckily for him, Nico was impulsive and nervous.

“Did you know everyone thinks we like each other?” Will didn’t miss Nico cringing at his own outburst. It made him smile a little. “I mean, like, like like each other,” he said quietly as he nervously twisted his skull ring.

Will couldn’t really say he knew, but he wasn’t exactly surprised after Lou Ellen’s comments. “I—it’s—nevermind that. We’ll deal with that later.” Will shook his head and took a deep breath. “Can we just, start over? Be friends? I don’t mind us fighting still, but I’d like to, I don’t know, not be so… mean? Gods, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” Will covered his eyes with his hand, feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment. What exactly was he trying to accomplish here?

Nico’s lips parted in a small ‘o’ of understanding. Seemed like he and Will were on the same page for once. “Yes,” he blurted. “I mean, yeah, I agree. I still strongly dislike you right now,” Will rolled his eyes and Nico chuckled, which was pretty friendly for them. “But less hatred would be nice.”

Will brightened, and it definitely did not make Nico’s night, that’s ridiculous. “Truce?” He held out a hand.

“Truce.” Nico gripped Will’s hand firmly, giving it a small shake.

As they looked into each other’s eyes, they both had the same thought.

Let’s see where this takes us.

 A/N: I was gonna try go all the way to lovers but my slow-build brain wouldn’t let me, sorry.