#it was just a funny little thing I wanted to play with and further cement the jokes about them

[bokettochild]

Just saw the update!

So, first thoughts!

Gremlin Legend and Sky is something I am LIVING for. Sky's little look of approval as he stands between Wars and Legend after that little move is sending me!

(Wild is not impressed)

I also really love that JoJo played with Warriors' cape/scarf being capable of doing that, which is a major risk btw, but I love that we see it's potential now!

Like, Legend's timing is perfect (and I love that this confirms the Legend v. Wars dynamic we all love) especially considering Hyrule was literally talking about the same thing and you'd THINK Captain-War-Hero over here would be more cautious because of it (although the fact this implies Legend doesn't trigger Warriors danger sense is GREAT for the fluff fic writers like me!)

Time and Wars looking like disappointed parents though is brilliant

(Warriors with messy hair is so funny to me, help)

The continued portrayal of Time being too harsh with the boys, all tense after what happened to Twilight, that's great. i'm glad the consequences of past events are following them, it really makes this all feel linear!

I also am ALL HERE for the boys finding their differences! Warriors and Wild both admitting to being new to dungeon crawling and the monsters involved is a great thing we've all been playing with in fics, but making it cannon feels like validation :)

Also, Warriors being defensive of that, and maybe a bit prickly about their judgement, I think it shows a lot of him. he's got his pride,a although he's learned to tame it. He's feeling a bit miffed to realize how different he is, but doesn't want them seeing him as lesser as well (although they never would). I can also hear him using a clipped military sort of tone when speaking here. It's just the way his words are selected and strung together that makes it seem he's being very to the point, direct, and cold in his tone, which really sells the whole difference between a soldier and the "average nobody" that the rest of them were (ironic, since he's trying to act like the difference isn't a big deal but only further accentuates it this way).

Twilight being pleased that Epona is fine and just enjoying a meal made me grin so big though. He's all worried for his girl but she is, quite literally, happy as a horse over there LOL

Also, this bit:

recognition for Sky's right-handedness, my beloved! (JoJo is giving us all the easter eggs!)

The fact that the passage is too small to let them all fight though is a brilliant way of preventing some of our heavy hitters and more skilled heroes from being able to do anything though!

I like how that gives us the chance to see Time one-shot the foe and also gives him the impression that the rest are maybe not skilled enough to do this alone. WE all know they are, but they're a handicap to each other right now, and it's only further cementing in his mind that they're not ready for all this, which will make his overbearing speech and the judgement he casts on them in combat all the more an issue.

I mean, we all know the hero's shade was like that, but JoJo has shown Time acting this way from the start

(Deep Shadows P.2)

(Likelike)

So I guess we're in for more of that now, and most likely someone (probably Legend, as it's usually him, or Wind, who is very aware of judgement from teh rest) is definitely going to have to call him on it soon, maybe in the dungeon. Will that lead to some bonding with Time where he has to admit he cares and worries about them as though they're his own? I hope so!

Anyways, all this to say, we really are seeing how much they struggle to work together, so hopefully this dungoen will teach them all how to do that better, as Time mentioned earlier

(Dawn p.8)

Now, to finish it off!I would like to thank JoJo for giving us so many beautiful shots of Twi this time around. I'll admit it now, he's pretty darn fine <3

That said, I'm loving the Legend content too! i hope we get to see some more starring moments from him going forwards, what with him being the dungeon veteran and all! It's great seeing his childish/playful side these last few updates, but I'm really craving some veteran Legend right now >:)

[bonesandthebees]

It's very funny to see my dash filled with QSMP stuff yet not being into it myself. I think now I understand how all those people felt when they were exposed to DSMP content/discourse, because the stuff I see now sounds absolutely insane sometimes (I dropped off after Juanaflippa died and haven't been up to date ever since).

Anyway, the Halloween story! I really liked what you did with leading us to believe that Wilbur was the guilty one (the conversation in the bar really sold that idea) and then slowly letting us realise that maybe things aren't the way we think they are. Small towns hold so many secrets..

Burning down the corn somehow felt like the last punch they could pull and in a way it was very poetic. A nice sense of closure.

I also wonder what was Phil's reaction when the boys told him the story. Could you tell us more about it? (or redirect me to a post if this was already answered)

-🌹

LMAO I'm so sorry for filling your dash with qsmp I'm sure that's gotta be wild to experience. qsmp is insane enough when you know what's going on, the outside POVs have gotta feel so wild

I don't blame you for dropping off after juanaflippa died I definitely considered dipping but then the wilbur soot tallulah week happened and I was revitalized and became extremely invested in that beanie wearing egg with hair. then I got highkey attached to everyone else and now I rotate q!phil in my mind constantly he's soooooo :)

(general reminder to my followers: if something I post a lot of and don't tag is annoying you feel free to ask me to tag it so you can block the posts! I stopped tagging my qsmp posts a while ago but I can go back to doing that or create a new tag for them if you don't wanna see them)

anyway moving on

aw thank you I'm so glad you enjoyed!! I had a lot of fun playing around with the misdirection in the foreshadowing. that conversation in the bar was especially fun to write because quackity holds the same assumption as the readers: that wilbur killed their father. wilbur knows this is what quackity thinks and doesn't do a whole lot to dissuade that notion, thus further cementing the idea to the readers as well. it was a lot of fun wordplay for me

ngl I've just always wanted to write a midwestern gothic type thing that ended with a cornfield burning down the mental image is just too cool. also like you pointed out I thought it gave the story a nice sense of closure :)

okay so this ask doesn't get too long (and so people can keep things vague if they want) i'll put the 'what happens when phil finds out' bit under the cut

so I wanted to leave things with phil vague so the readers could make their own interpretations, but I'd like to think that phil actually suspected that wilbur and tommy had something to do with their father's disappearance from the start. he never put too much stock into it though because he always thought they would've told him if they did actually have a hand in it. so instead he just kind of purposefully turned a blind eye to all the signs and imagined their father probably went and pissed the wrong person off at the wrong time while drunk and got a bullet between the eyes as a result. it wasn't exactly wrong.

anyway, finding out that his original gut feeling was right and they were the ones to kill him hurts phil a lot. not because his brothers murdered their father, but because they didn't tell him about it for ten years. when more details get revealed and he learns that tommy was the one to shoot him and not wilbur, he understands a little more why wilbur was so reluctant to tell him but still, the hurt is there. at the very least, he understands why wilbur left now, and that's been an open wound for him for years at this point. so that bit of closure, combined with knowing for sure that their father is never coming back, makes up for the pain of knowing how long his little brothers lied to him.

basically the conversation ends with phil reassuring tommy a lot while scolding wilbur for leaving for eight years instead of telling him the truth. hours later though, probably once the sun has risen and tommy has passed out in his room, phil sees wilbur sitting at the dining table staring blankly into his coffee mug. he thinks about what wilbur told him before about how he learned to run away from him, and that phil wasn't there when they needed him. he thinks about the guilt in wilbur's eyes when he told phil that tommy had to shoot their dad because he just couldn't pull the trigger himself.

and phil goes and hugs his younger brother, and tells him that it wasn't his fault. that he did the best he could. that it's okay that he couldn't pull the trigger. and wilbur hugs him back, feeling like a little kid again wrapped up in his big brother's arms.

it's not okay yet. it might not ever be fully okay. but they're dealing with it. as a family this time.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Random Idea junk drawer

So I had a great time doing my Wangxian-centric Breath of the Wild AU last year, and when I finished it I definitely left the epilogue open-ended enough to do more Zelda AU’s/Fusions in the future (I still don’t REALLY know how big the difference is between AU’s and Fusions and which one my other-content-inspired stuff usually counts as but I DIGRESS) because here’s the thing. The Thing(TM). Zelda games are my JAM. They were baby’s first special interest. Literally.

When I was 7 years old my parents bought a GameCube and a game disk that had 4 remastered Classic Zelda games on it (two 2D, two 3D) as well as a 20-minute playable demo for Wind Waker, with three different starting locations to choose from that you could play as many times as you wanted. And you bet my little 7-year-old ass played every bit of it that was within my skill level (which was not much lol), until I got my next Zelda game at 10 (that was Twilight Princess, and it was the first Zelda game I ever finished). I have the Wii walkthrough book for Twilight Princess that I bought used online and it reeked of cigarettes for months after I got it. I chose a screenshot of one of the characters out of it to paint on one of those horrible school industrial ceiling tiles in my 8th grade art class (sadly the photo of it is lost on an old dead phone, but it was really good, I mixed up all my own custom colors of paint and everything which was like. Impressive for 13 year old me :( ). I have and treasure the Hyrule Historia book. I had shitty ill-fitting graphic tees that said things like ‘Good things come to those who break clay pots’ (really funny to me now that I’m a ceramicist and could easily make pots for myself for the purpose of smashing if I were so inclined [I’m totally gonna]). I have massive Zelda tattoos on the insides of both forearms and I’m planning more so that I’ll hopefully end up with two Zelda half-sleeves. Like ZELDA IS MY THING. WHY I’m not writing more Zelda AU’s and playing around in my expanded sandbox of hyperfixations, I have no idea.

But anyway, I’ve started playing Ocarina of Time again, I have no idea how many times I’ve played it at this point within the last 19 years, and I’ve done it on every Nintendo console possible (except, ironically, the N64 as it was originally made for). So obviously I’m playing along and getting lost in the story because it’s a fuckin good story, as one does, and I was like ‘hey what if Wangxian tho’ and thus. Today’s junk drawer was born. Have I already started an outline of the fic plot points as well? Yes. Did I have to stop myself 800 words in and say that no I can’t just write out the entire plot tonight and no it can’t all go into this junk drawer post because I should actually just write the damn thing instead? Yeah. When will that happen? I don’t wanna think about it, so let’s just have fun talking characters and locations and their implications, shall we?

I’m going to post my notes completely unedited and let y’all see the whole ugly process, and I’m gonna put it below the cut because this is already long enough to scroll past but all I’ve done is gush about Zelda and in doing so further cement my well-established status as a huge fuckin nerd lol:

Jiangs/Lotus Pier as Kokiri Forest -- Deku Tree is Jiang Fengmian (Does this make Madam Yu the giant nasty spider inside????? ew)

- Wei Wuxian -- taken into LP/Kokiri Forest as a young child, young enough to fit in with the other children, but he'll soon be old enough for everyone to know that he isn't one of the lake/river children, he's from Elsewhere. - Jiang Cheng as Mido, small and angry and won't let anyone see JFM/YZY without really fucking good reason but also takes the leadership role in LP/Kokiri Forest once JFM/Deku Tree is dead - Jiang Yanli as Saria, gentle and sweet and fond of music and wandering through the woods that keep their lake hidden from the rest of the world. She'll awaken as a Sage in WWX's adulthood.

Cloud Recesses as Hyrule Castle, Lans are the Royal Family and Sheikah combined

- Lan Qiren as the king of Hyrule, though as the second brother he's supposed to be leading the Sheikah, not sitting on the throne - Lan Xichen (already in his 20's) as Impa. He'll awaken as a Sage in WWX's adulthood. Although he's supposed to be in line for the throne, someone has to be the leader of the Sheikah since LQR can't be, which leaves: - Lan Zhan as Princess Zelda -- plagued by dreams and visions of evil coming to take over the world, but no one takes him seriously because he's still so young. People also forget that in the line of succession he's supposed to be the one protecting the royal family as the next leader of the Sheikah, so it's actually his destiny to have these visions, not to be a politician. He sees in Wei Wuxian someone who's willing to break the rules and society's expectations to be the true hero he's been dreaming about. He'll take up the extremely active role of Wangji/Sheik as an adult, having learnt the Sheikah secrets under Lan Xichen's tutelage and taken up his rightful place as one of them since his escape from the palace as a child.

Kakariko Village -- inhabited by average people (akin to Caiyi town, close with the royal Lan family but not directly cultivators?)

Nies as Gorons in Death Mountain/Goron City/Nie Fortress

- Nie Mingjue as Darunia -- hot-tempered and built like the mountain, willing to swear brotherhood with the boy who came to save his people. He'll awaken as a Sage in WWX's adulthood. (NHS as the snot-nosed kid who hero-worships WWX in adulthood? lol)

Jins/Jinlintai as Zora's Domain -- The Zora are a proud people who live high above the rest of Hyrule at the top of their waterfall (tower). (Golden Carp Tower has a lot of water motifs and they decorate things in teal and gold like the zora do too)

- Jin Guangshan as King Zora - Jin Zixuan as Princess Ruto, eaten by their deity god (who is still a giant fuckin fish, I dunno what else he could be lol) and who thinks he has to be engaged to WWX after giving him the Sapphire (maybe because he was told from a young age he'd have to get engaged to one of the lake children anyway and just didn't know who/hint at unrealized Xuanli?) He'll awaken as a Sage in WWX's adulthood. - Jin Guangyao as (????? :( :( :( where will my boy go?? I need my boy for emotional support)

Wen Ruohan as Ganondorf -- a cruel king wreathed in shadow and flame....I mean it writes itself lol

- Baoshan Sanren as Rauru, the Sage of Light -- withdrew from the mortal world an unknowable amount of time ago to protect the Sacred Realm and has watched over WWX these last seven years as he slept. - Jiang Yanli as Saria, the Sage of Forest -- she awakens into her powers to protect her childhood friend/brother(s), though this will mean having to leave Jiang Cheng on his own in Lotus Pier - Nie Mingjue as Darunia, the Sage of Fire -- he awakens as a sage to honor the Brotherhood oath he swore with WWX in the past - Jin Zixuan as Princess Ruto, the Sage of Water -- he 'dumps' WWX because he has to do the more important work of stopping the apocalypse, try to contain your disappointment WWX, you can still be coworkers and save the world or whatever, if you even care. - Lan Xichen as Impa, the Sage of Shadow -- Lan Xichen must leave the mortal world behind to take up his mantle as the Sage of Shadow, leaving Lan Wangji to carry his worldly responsibilities instead (sort of half-retreating into seclusion like canon) - Wen Qing as Nabooru, the Sage of Spirit -- Wen Qing is the leader of the all-female band of Gerudo thieves who in no way endorse Wen Ruohan's domination of the world. When she leaves to take up her role as the Sage of Spirit, she leaves her cousin Wen Yun (my OC Madam Lan) to lead the Gerudo in her stead. (need to find a role for Wen Ning? Except zelda lore is that only one man is born to the Gerudo at a time every hundred years and he’s always their king. Maybe WN is meant to be the new one but WRH has reached immortality/won’t die and let him succeed him?)

Plot would follow Ocarina of Time fairly closely (Unlike my BOTW AU where I tried to make it...relatively more like canon??) because there's a very definite plot there, while BOTW is so much more fluid it was easier to adapt to something else.

[collidingxworlds]

JAMES POLLARD - @batteredoptimist​

It’s unfortunate how his new friend’s mood has plummeted, but James finds it understandable. He’s had all manner of chemical burns from his work and every single one of them have been unpleasant. Honestly, Crowley is handling it better than James might have- and despite his mood he still offers up payment for the statue. This only further cements to James that the fellow is actually quite nice at heart.

Funny how Mr. Crowley spits out the word “blessed” as though it’s really a curse. This is the second time now that James has noticed he seems to say things a bit backwards.

Mr. Aquino grumbles out his acquiescence to payment, and his lack of overt enthusiasm there is yet again something James makes note of. Normally the man is quite keen on receiving payment before anyone makes it back out through the labyrinth that is his shoppe. Actually James has suspected for a while now that the place is set up to slow people down on purpose.

Whatever the reason, he keeps close to Crowley’s elbow as he can as they make their way back to the front of the shoppe, where the floor opens back out some and offers some proverbial room to breathe.

“I’m quite sorry for all the trouble, Mr. Crowley.” Mr. Aquino looks affronted that he’s not getting an apology too, but James just can’t abide by his keeping dangerous objects laying all about and so he offers none. Instead he rests his hand gently on Crowley’s elbow as if to offer something to lean against.

“Payment for what’s broken will be fine.” Mr. Aquino rasps, and rattles out a price that James thinks is a tad too high but honestly at this point he might just be cross with the man in general.

“After this we should get you something to put on those burns.” He insists quietly again.

The sight of the door is enough to make Crowley feel better and he quickens his steps, uncaring of the fact that thus he is forcing James to do the same. He is so relieved to see the end of that almost literal tunnel that can’t bring himself to be annoyed with Mr. Aquino’s disgruntled attitude. If the man wants to be moody about how things went, he’s free to do it. It won’t earn him any courteous words.

Besides, the demon couldn’t care less if they’ll leave the dealer in a bad mood. It’s not like he will be around that town for long.

“It’s alright, James,” he reassures his companion instead, the hint of a sly grin touching his face. “At least we can say that we didn’t have a boring day.”

His palms still burn, but the pain is much more bearable than it has been a few minutes ago. The blisters will remain for a few hours, but that actually plays in his favour. The shopkeeper might notice that they are less severe than they have looked at first, but Crowley will be able to explain it easily enough.

The Serpent’s attention is redirected towards Aquino as the man speaks up again, and he almost rolls his eyes at the price he is presented with. He is no expert, but he doubts that the small statue was worth that much. Especially since the dealer didn’t know that it was blessed.

“Fine, let’s settle this,” he muttered under his breath, reaching out for the inside pocket of his jacket. He hisses a little when his scorched skin touches the cloth, but he doesn’t let it stop him and he pulls out a black leather change purse. “Here. This should cover also the poison. And any remaining bruises on your ego.”

And with that he dumps in Aquino’s expecting hands enough silver coins to be forgiven even that last rude jab.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I think my good friend here is eager to play nurse.”

The smirk he shoots poor James is so sharp that one might think that he is planning to eat him for lunch, and shows too many pointy teeth for everyone’s comfort.

“Shall we?”

[bittybattybunny]

was that backstory of hattie's beginning always planed?

Hattie’s origin from another world was planned from the get go yes!

Hattie was always planned to be from another world!

But originally the version of her parents were going to be time travelers; rather a rift walker Eclipse and Ru got pulled along for the ride

Sena was also not the Sena we know; but the Sena from MG but I ended up disliking that tie in. The original version of hattie’s origin is the “Cafe Latte and Broken Dreams” Au I have snippets around on the blog!

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[giggly-squiggily]

Heyaa can you do lee nao and ler natsuya from free! iwatobi swim club?

Oops I ship it now-

Okay but really: I fell down a rabbit hole of these two after starting season 3 and now my heart is SOARING. They are precious and have my entire heart and soul! I've gotcha covered, anon! :D

Cloud 9 (Taglist)

@myreygn, @duckymcdoorknob, @baby-tickles2022, @cupcake-spice13

“Baaabe~ I miss you!”

“Are you drunk?” Nao rolled his eyes as he walked up the steps to his apartment, the day’s events leaving him drained. “You sound drunk.”

“Not drunk- unless you count jet lag. In that case, I’m very, very drunk.” Between words, Natsuya yawned, further cementing his claim.

“Well, try to get some sleep when you can.” Nao looked at his phone clock, furrowing his brow. “It must be early where you are- I don’t think I’ve ever heard you up before 6 am.”

“Pfft,oh please- I can be awake early! Sure, it’s easier to wake up with your voice in my ears, but I’ve managed fine on my own.” Nao could picture the smile Natsuya wore as he spoke, satisfied at the soft blush he always managed to earn from the lilac haired man. “Though I really do prefer you over my alarm clock.”

“I’ll send you a voicemail. You can use that as your alarm.” Nao told him, already envisioning the pout. “I can literally feel you pouting through the phone.”

“I want to hear your voice in real time though!”

“Come home and you’ll hear it all the time.”

“Alright, bet.” A competitive note entered his tone, making Nao smile. Neither mentioned the likelihood of Natsuya following through was slim. His life was full of travel right now, and Nao didn’t have the heart to ask him to settle. 

Nao was patient and Natsuya was stubborn. They could make this work.

“How was your flight, speaking of?” Nao finally reached his apartment, pulling his keys from his pocket as Natsuya spoke of the sights he saw and funny people he interacted with. Pushing open his door, he furrowed his brows upon seeing tossed aside shoes in the middle of the room. “Natsuya, we talked about this; you can’t just leave your shoes in the middle of the…”

Wait. Natsuya’s shoes.

In his apartment.

As of right now.

“Natsuya…what plane were you on?” Nao asked.

“Ha!” Phones suddenly dropped to the floor as arms wrapped around Nao from behind, Natsuya planting kiss after kiss against his cheek as he squeezed his boyfriend close. “Surprise! Guess who flew back to Japan!”

“And you still can’t put your shoes away.” Nao tsked softly, turning around to properly look at Natsuya. His hair was messy from the trip and there were dark circles beneath his eyes, but it was him. It was Natsuya.

Natsuya was home.

“Aww, come on, babe! I’m finally home and that’s the first thing you say to me?” Natsuya tsked, putting on his best pout. “You're so mean!”

Nao laughed, shaking his head as he pulled the other man close, kissing the pout away. “Welcome home, my love.” He breathed against him, letting the pounding of his heart finally show as Natsuya tugged him closer, rocking them gently as they melted in each other's embrace.

~~~

“Did you really not miss me at all?” Natsuya asked after dinner that night, the dishes clean and any leftovers stored away. “I know I called you almost every night since I’ve been gone, but still?”

Of course Nao missed him. The lilac haired man couldn’t tell you how many nights he stayed up staring at his phone after their call ended, aching for the brunette to be back by his side. How dream Natusya appeared during his sleep and how much strength it gave Nao to get through the worst days. How on one of Natsuya’s calls he left a message of him singing Sam Smith’s “One Call Away ''- terrible as the rendition was, Nao saved it and played it when he really needed to hear Natsuya’s voice.

He could and was willing to tell Natsuya all these things.

He would, eventually.

For now, he wanted to tease him a little. It was only fair, right?

“I knew you’d come back eventually.” Nao kept his voice light and matter of fact, avoiding looking directly at his boyfriend. He knew the minute he did he’d break, unable to hold down the giggles at Natsuya’s shock. “You always do, so I figured why worry?”

“Damn, that’s ice cold.” Natsuya snorted, shaking his head. “And here I thought you’d be happy to hear I’m staying for good.”

Staying for good! “That’s good to know.” Nao couldn’t fight down the smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll get the spare bedroom ready.”

“Nao!” Natsuya whined, flopping forward and wrapping his arms around his waist. “You’re being so mean to me! You can’t tell me all my serenading over the phone did nothing?”

“Besides giving me an ear ache?” Nao pretended to think about it. “Hm…maybe.”

“Oo, you little minx! Come here!” Natsuya quickly sat up, pulling Nao into his lap. “I’ll show you for teasing me!” With that, his fingers wormed their way along Nao’s torso, scribbling and prodding gently. “Take that!”

“Ah! Ahehahahahhaha! Nahahahhatsuya, wahahahhahait!” Nao yelped, wriggling in his boyfriend’s arms as his sides were prodded, soft breathy giggles raising to his lips and filling the air around them. “Yohohohou doohohohon’t neehhehed to dohoohoho thihihihis!”

“Oh but I must! It seems you’ve gotten too used to me being gone, so now I’m gonna have to remind you of all the reasons why you should miss me.” Natsuya let his hands move upward, tapping along his ribs with rhythmic pressure. “Starting with number one- I’m super cuddly!”

“Mohohoohohre like clihihihihngy! Ahehahahaha, Nahahahahhtsuuhuhuuh!” Nao weakly pushed at his boyfriend’s chest, only opening up more tickle spots. “Dohohohohon’t stahhahahhahart!”

“Start what? Tickling you?” Natsuya giggled as he wormed his hands up and into Nao’s armpits, making him yelp. “But you have such a cute laugh, babe! And look at that smile!” Natsuya reached up to gently take off Nao’s skewed glasses, leaning forward to kiss the space between his eyes. “I missed this the most. I want to wake up to your smile everyday for the rest of my life.”

“Stahhahahhahy arohohoohohund and yohohohoohohu wihiihihihihll!” Nao squeaked, cheeks flushed and painful from how much he was smiling. Eventually, when he was nearly breathless and at his limit, Natsuya finally stopped, pulling his hands back and encasing his boyfriends instead. “Ahehehe…hehehe…yoohohu’re tehheherrible!”

“You love me.” Natsuya laughed, leaning up and kissing his forehead.

“Shuhuht up…” Nao closed his eyes as he took a breath. Then he dared ask. “Do you…truly mean it? Are you staying for good now?”

“Yep! I got it all figured out.” Natsuya grinned as he snuggled Nao closer to him. “I’m already prepping for classes here- I’ve got a sweet gig downtown that pays good, and best of all: I have my number one by my side.” Natsuya reached up and brushed lilac bangs from a smiling face, leaning in and kissing him gently. “I’m staying by your side and never leaving again.”

“You're such a dork.” Nao let out a wet laugh, kissing him again and again as he finally let the reality of his new life settle. Natsuya was staying. Natsuya was home for good.

“I really did miss you.” Nao breathed when they finally pulled away, no longer feeling the need to hide it. He waited for Natsuya to hoot in joy, to poke him playfully and declare how he knew it.

Instead Natsuya smiled- the effect as warm as the morning sun. “I missed you too.”

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I’m Yours, You’re Mine | 2

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: Smut, future angst

Summary:  You’ve always wished to take a more dominant role in bed, but Chan just wasn’t having it. So when you see an opportunity to do just that with Felix, you can’t help yourself. But you soon come to regret your drunken decision for a reason other than that you’d cheated on your boyfriend with his own bestfriend.

Warnings: Cheating, justifying cheating (badly), yandere!felix, sub!felix, dom!reader, reader tries to pressure chan into subbing, felix getting pegged in a kitten maid outfit, excessive use of whore and slut and noona, degradation, felix messy

Gif Credit

It was a mistake. You had decided. You were both too drunk and horny to think it through and it was best to forget it all.

Felix, however, refused to drop it which really only cemented in your mind that it’s the right decision to stop this thing before it starts. If he’s kicking up this much fuss about it and you’ve barely done anything, what is he gonna do if you got more involved later? No, it’s over and you’d told him as such. You don’t want him and it had been a mistake.

But at night, when you’re all alone with your thoughts after chan had fucked you and gone to sleep, you can’t help but think of the freckled boy and how he had followed your every order so obediently. You touch yourself every night to the memory of it, how good he sounded touching himself for you. It has become a sort of escapism for you, a way to let out your frustrations every time Chan doesn’t let you take the lead.

It pissed you the fuck off, how condescending he’d sound when telling you to ‘stop messing around, babygirl’ as he proceeds to pin you down and fuck you from behind. Still, you keep trying because maybe if he’d let you have this, you wouldn’t run to other men to satisfy your needs.

"Baby, take a look at this." You call out to Chan who was sitting on the chair next to you, turning your laptop screen towards him so he'd see the costume you were looking at, a cat maid outfit for men. He scrunches his nose at it and laughs, "That's certainly something."

"You don't like it?" You pout and he looks at you incredulously. "You do?" 

"I don't know.” You shrug, once again feeling ridiculed. It’s not like you haven’t worn a schoolgirl or a sexy nurse outfit for him before when he’d asked. “I just think you'd look cute in it. And with halloween coming up and everything--"

"I’m gonna stop you right there, baby. Absolutely not."

"Why not?" You whine like a child.

"Because it's embarrassing!"

"But it's halloween, it’s supposed to be crazy. No one will care, they might even like it. I’d really like it.." 

"No. Pick something else." He deadpans but you keep pushing. "But I want this!"

Chan gets off his chair and sits on the couch next to you, grabbing your jaw and pulling you close to his face. “Baby, I’m a man, not a toy for you to play with and dress up as you please. You never mentioned any of this stuff before and you can’t just drop this on me now and expect me to do what you please.” 

“But why can’t you at least try?” 

“I’m not interested.” He answers slowly, emphasizing every word. "Now stop pressing or I'll put your pretty little mouth to better use."

____________________

You’re standing alone in a corner, nursing your drink as you watch the party-goers mingle and have fun, when you suddenly feel someone wrap their arms around you and press up their body against your back. You don’t flinch, already knowing who it is. 

“Hey, baby, wanna go out for a bite?” The stupid pickup line only serves to make you more annoyed at the boy behind you and you wince as he digs his fake fangs into the skin of your shoulder. Shrugging the man off, you turn to face him. “I thought strong women made you flaccid.” 

The sour smile on his face only lasts for a second before it turns patronizing. “That’s not true. I was very into Kim Possible.” He cups your cheek and leans down close to your face, his nose touching yours. “But I’d fuck Shego too.” 

You push his hand away and step back, stopping the kiss he was going for. “Sorry, but this Shego isn’t interested in getting fucked.”

Chan rests his hands on his hips and lets out a heavy sigh. “How long are you gonna stay mad at that?”

“How long is your fragile masculinity gonna keep you from satisfying your girlfriend in bed?” 

He steps towards you angrily, getting all up in your face again. “Don’t you dare! I always make you cum.”

“So? I can make myself cum just fine on my own. But what I actually want from you, you’re not giving to me.” 

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” He yells, face turning red as he prepares to launch into his own angry rant when something catches his eyes and he bursts out laughing. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

You look at him in confusion and he grabs you by the shoulders and turns you around.  “Take a look at Felix, honey.” He murmurs sardonically.

With narrowed eyes, you search for the blonde among the crowd of people gathered at your apartment, wondering why Chan was stopping your oh-so-important argument for this. But when your eyes land on him, they blow wide open. Felix is dressed in the exact outfit you’d shown Chan wished earlier, complete with the cat eats and the little bell around his neck. He looked perfect. 

“Look at how ridiculous he looks.” Chan’s voice cuts into your thoughts as he leans down to jeer in your ear. "And you wanted me to look like that. Hey, maybe Lix will bend over and let you fuck him if you ask." 

He says it with the most sarcasm and contempt he can muster before shoving you a little bit forward and walking off. But it’s far from a joke to you. There is nothing funny about the gorgeous boy looking like he just came out of your wildest dreams. 

With anger and lust mixing dangerously in your veins, you march straight to Felix, and without even greeting him, you grab him by the arm and pull him into the bathroom that was further into the apartment and lock the both of you inside. 

Pushing him against the sink, you grab his hair and force him to look at himself in the mirror. "What is the meaning of this?"

“Noona?” He wonders uneasily, playing innocent. 

“How the fuck did you get this?” 

“I found it on the internet, noona.” 

“Oh, you found it, huh?” You scoff, running your hand over the black and white outfit. “You just happened to find the exact same costume I was showing to Chan a few weeks back?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, noona.” He stares at your reflection through his lashes, doing his best to look meek and clueless. Growling, you shove your hand between his legs, grabbing at his half-hard dick and making him squeal. 

“Oh, you don’t, do you? You’re such a fucking whore, Felix.” He moans, bucking his hip into your hand. "You know I belong to your hyung and you're just gonna betray him like that?"

He shakes his head earnestly, "No, noona. I’m not trying to."

"Don't lie. Little whore only thinks with his cock." You hiss, letting your other hand fall from his hair to his chest, your fingers roughly pulling at his nipples through the thin fabric covering them. 

“Ah--fuck--noona!” He cries, thrusting his dick against your hand more and more. "I'm a good boy. You know that noona."

“Then what is is?” You pull his skirt up to clearly show his now fully hard dick straining against the panties he’s wearing. And when you do, you stop in your tracks. 

"Are those my panties?" You shriek, pushing him flat over the marble countertop and flipping the skirt over his ass so you can see the black panties more clearly. “You fucking creep!”

You hook your thumbs under the waistband and yank the panties down, getting even more of a shock when you see what he has under them. 

"Shit." You breathe, momentarily forgetting all about the panties as you stare at the pink butt plug wedged snuggly in his ass. When you reach out and tap the base of it, Felix's legs buckle. “Is this part of the costume too?”

He stays quiet, burying his face into his arms and you scoff. "God, you're such a slut." You grab the plug and pull it back, only to slam it back in all at once. His scream is muffled against his arms but he eagerly pushes his hips back into you. 

You take a few seconds to get your breathing under control. Once again you can’t believe what is in front of you. You’ve only dreamt about something like this before, but here is Felix giving it all to you without you even asking. How can you resist?

"Don't move." You hiss in his ear, ignoring his little moan of protest as you pull away and step out of the bathroom.

You get what you want from your room as fast as you possibly can before going back to the bathroom and finding that Felix has actually not stayed still, and is now standing up and nervously fiddling with his fingers.

"Didn't I say to not move?"

"I was afraid someone would come in." He mumbles.

“Afraid people will find out what a whore you are, you mean.” You step in and lock the door behind you before you before you show him what you have in the box you just retrieved. 

You smile at his gasp when he sees you pull out the strap you own, the one you never even got to show to Chan before. Cocking your head to the side, you stare at the shaking boy. “You’ll let me fuck you, won’t you, Lixie?” 

He nods before you even finish your question. “Of course, noona. You can do whatever you want to me.” 

You smirk like you expected nothing less than that, but in reality you were riding high off of the fact that he so easily gave into you without you even needing to coax him. It made you wanna give him everything he asks for. 

But Felix’s enthusiasm is dampened a little when he sees you putting the strap-on over your costume. Pouting, he asks you, “You’re not gonna take anything off, noona?”

"I don't need to take anything off to fuck you." You reply simply and he lets out an insolent whine. “But I wanna see your body. I never got to see it up-close.” 

Your face turns hard and Felix takes a moment to realize the implication of what he just said. “So you’re saying you’ve seen my body before? Have you been spying on me too, you little shit?” 

He stays quiet, staring at the floor. 

“You’re such a fucking pervert. I ought to tell Chan about all of this.” You push him around to face the mirror again and press his body against the countertop. “The outfit. The panties. The spying.” You grit, taking the butt plug out of his ass and running your fingertips up and down his open hole.

“No, please don’t tell him.” He whimpers, face pressed against the cool marble. 

“Why shouldn’t I? He should know what his precious friend is up to behind his back.” You squeeze some lube over your fingers before you push one inside of him. It goes in easily so you add the second one right away, pressing down as you pump your fingers in and out of his ass.

“Nghh--noona--noona!” He squirms under you, hands grasping to find any purchase over the smooth countertop. “Please, fuck me.”

You can’t really deny him for long, already feeling like you could cream your panties just watching him break down under you. As you push the didlo in, he lets out a loud keen that turns into heavy panting as you start rocking your hips into his. 

“Thank you, noona.” His voice is garbled and you pull him up by the hair to make him stand up so you can look at his face while you fuck him. He looks like an absolute mess of drool and flushed cheeks, his dick leaking little drops on the floor. 

"What a tiny dick you have, Lixie.” You can't help but stare at it and the leather garter belt he has around his thigh with a metallic heart looped in it. Wrapping your hand his wet dick, you start pumping it as you thrust into his ass. “No wonder you can't dom a girl. I probably have a bigger dick than yours."

“I’m sorry, n-noona. Please use me--ahh--however you want.” He sobs, barely able to hold himself up in your arms. 

“Use you for what? You’re a complete mess. You wouldn’t be able to satisfy me even if you tried.” You fuck him harder, quickening the pace of your strokes on his twitching dick and shivering at the sounds that fill up the room, from the snap of your hips against his ass, to the slick sound of you jerking him off, to the whiny moans he's letting loose to the tune of the bell in his choker. “But it’s okay, I’ll just think about this when Channie is fucking my brains out tonight.” 

Suddenly his face changes, taking on a dark and sinister hue that makes goosebumps erupt across your skin. But you can’t let him intimidate you. If you can’t even dom Felix then Chan is right not to take you seriously. Besides, if you want to keep this going, you have to have him under a tight leash or else he’ll go rogue and expose the both of you. 

"What? You have something to say?" You challenge, but he stays quiet, his lips curled into a mean sneer. "You're just a toy for me and if you want me to keep playing with you, you need to learn your place. Is that understood?"

But Felix doesn’t respond, continuing to stare you down through the mirror. 

“You want me to leave you high and dry like last time? Because that’s what you’ll get if you don’t back down, kitten.” You warn him, your thrusts turning from fast and hard to slow and deep, and your grip on his cock tightening. “Come on, who is my good boy?” 

Finally, he relents, throwing his head back over your shoulder and moaning out, “I am, noona.” 

“Prove it or else I’ll have no use for you.” You smatter stinging kisses all over the side of his neck in retaliation for taking so long, and you feel him gulping under your lips. "Come on, little slut, squirt out that cum for me." 

“Yes, noona, just need a little more.” He grunts obediently, thrusting his cock up into your closed fist in time with your own thrusts into his ass. "Aahh--noona--fuck---noona!" His hands reach back and his fingers dig into your flesh as he cums, using his hold on you to keep standing upright.

“That’s it. That’s it.” You coo, taking a bit too long before you stop touching him, letting him suffer the pain of overstimulation for a minute, his eyes blown wide as his mouth hangs open as he stares at you with glazed over eyes in the mirror, his cum dripping down your hand and making a small puddle on the floor under you. 

“You’ll keep being a good boy, won’t you, Lixie?” You press a soft kiss under his ear that makes him shiver. Letting the tension out of his body, he relaxes back into your arms and closes his eyes. 

“Yes, Noona.” 

____________

A/N: next chapter is using one of those remote control vibrators on lixie in public uwu oh and making him watch chan fuck reader :))))) 

feedback keeps me going and makes me upload faster like this :))))

[yandere-wishes]

⭐Yandere Joestars⭐

(Parts 1-7 + Bonus Charcter: Joseph and Johnny’s characterizations are based off @dear-yandere​ ‘s interperations) I tried to write this mostly in the Joestars' POV. Their respective darlings resemble lifelike dolls rather than human beings to further illustrate how out of touch with reality the Jojos have become.

Warnings: Gore, kidnapping, dehumanization.

Edited: By the amazing Peri!! (@tealyjade-libran )

⭐Jonathan Joestar is possessive. ⭐

It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it...

It's an old saying, one that Jonathan remembers from an antique storybook his mother use to read him. It didn't mean anything back then, when he was still an infant too young and new, to fully comprehend what "owning" and "losing" was. But as the years ticked by faster than any clock could keep track of, things started to change. What had once been a passing quote in a chivalrous story about knights and dragons, soon turned into the epitome of Jonathan Joestar's life. 

Soon love wasn't about saving a princess or impressing the neighborhood girls with his boxing skills. No, all too soon love became about own and guarding. 

There may have been a time -long before "Jojo" and Dio met- when Jonathan was just like any other gentleman. Tender and sweet, flirtish at gatherings and charming in ladies' companies...but that was a Jonathan from a could-be-past that had been demolished the minute Dio Brando stepped foot onto the Joestar estate. From then on things depleted all so quickly. Everything Jonathan had come to unconsciously cherished had been so easily stripped from him by his beloved new "brother". 

Everything he loved had been killed, destroyed, or broken in some inhuman way. His friends had abandoned him, his lover had distorted him, his father didn't even notice him...

"It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it". The second time he hears that phrase, it freezes him to the pavement, his body star-struck like he just received a message from the heavens. Although it's rather peculiar, why "heaven" would convey a message to him in such an unholy place. 

With Dio having practically kicked Jonathan out of the mansion and countryside. Jojo had no other place to go but the back allies of London. Sure he still tried to be home for supper and bedtime and any other time his father may get an inkling of his absence. But when there was no need to 'appear' Jonathan took to the London streets away from Dio and his lackeys. 

In fate's bizarre game, it's in a backstreet that reeks of days old licker and rotting flesh of paupers that no one has bothered to bury. That Jojo hears that life-defining idiom once more. His dulling sapphire blue eyes follow the mist of those melodious words. Staring until they're practically itching to cut through his sockets and run after those little words. But they stop right before they can leave their eyelets, they stop and stare at the figure that strolls out of the shadows, in such a way, that would make Jojo's father slap him across the face for being "barbarous".  

It's luck or fate or maybe even destiny that leads the heir of the Joestar legacy to meet his darling in the slums of England. 

"How my heart resonates when I lay my weary eyes on your enchanting face..."

There's an odd sweetness about the naivety that surrounds his little friend. A sort of innocence that comes with not knowing about the hell that he's gone through. It's charming in a moderate way, his darling can't come to despise him if they haven't got a clue who he is. Keeping both his worlds as far apart as possible is really the only option left. Dio and his friends can't hurt his new friend? Lover? Companion? In actuality, Jonathan really doesn't know what you are to him. At first, you're merely a distraction from his crumbling, lonely shell of an existence. A sort of invisible pillar holding up London's bridge before it collapses into the  River Thames. Sure he views you as another person, unlike the other noblemen Jonathan has no desire to treat you as anything less than a respectable young lady despite your social statutes. 

 Dio can have the noblemen and ladies, he can have all of George's affection and favor, Heck Dio can have the whole goddamn world for all Jonathan cares. So long as he has his darling, his sunflower, his only means for living, then he will be content. 

Jojo lost everything he once loved, but he swears it to every star in the night sky that'll preserve his darling from the wickedness that runs this cruel world. He'll cherish her while she's still in his arms...

He'll protect her, just like the knights did in the old bedtime stories his mother would tell him. 

"...I swear on my honor as a Joestar that I shall never lose you to the likes of anyone, I'll be a true gentleman, a true knight and I'll protect you from any who wishes cause you harm."

⭐Joseph Joestar is Protective and all so patronizing.⭐

Why must Love hurt so much?

It's solitude, pure utter solitude that attracts Joseph to his darling. Oh sure, he must have known them from an earlier time in his life, back when the words Hammon and Ripple just sounded like fancy dessert names. Back when he was still a naive kid wishing on every goddamn star that he could just meet one of his parents for a fraction of a second. Back when life was easy when everything made sense. That's when he first met his darling. Although all so many years ago he probably just thought of them as the little sister he never got a chance of having. 

There's a numbness growing inside him now that his life has slipped off its axes, hurling into unknown darkness that plagues him in the form of Pillarmen and red gems. 

Everywhere he looks there's a reminder that nothing's going back to the way it used to be. No waking up to Granny Erina's voice calling him down for breakfast, no running around chasing Old Man Speedwagon. Everything is gone, replaced by Lisa Lisa's brutal training and Ceaser's endless taunting. 

Day by day nothing changes, but once he looks back every little thing is different. Ruptured and mangled into something unrecognizable. 

But then there's his darling. Someone -or rather something- that's still the same. Just like before. Her smile is still the same as ever, bright and cheery as she runs up to him wrapping her arms around his abdomen muttering about how much she missed her "Dear Big Brother".

(Y/N) is a comfort, a familiarity in a strange new world. She's something so frail and vulnerable, not to mention naive. Thrusted into a world where horror writers don't dare venture into. It's so likely that she'd be captured by one of Kar's zombie vampire things or -even worse- charmed by Caesar’s silver tongue. 

It's thoughts like these that haunt Joseph at night, keep him up and wandering into her room just to gaze at her sleeping form. He's lucid enough to know how it might look. Like he's the bad guy trying to take advantage of a defenseless little girl. But he can justify his actions, he's her big brother, he has to watch over especially when she's at her most vulnerable. If Ceaser ever tried anything or some vampire freak snatched her away in the dead of night, Joseph would never forgive himself!

But what does he get for all his efforts? What does he get for all his sleepless nights and hours upon hours of worrying? Just a small smile and a fleeting kiss on the cheek. No sincere, "Thank you big brother," or, "You're my hero Joseph!" Nothing, nothing worthwhile anyway. 

Now it's a competition, a battle to the death if it has to be -funny how he takes this more seriously than his match against Wamuu.- He's competitive by nature and he's willing to do anything to earn his darling's affection once more. He doesn't care who he has to beat within an inch of their life so long as he can have his darling back in his arms.

There is an aftermath to all of these, once all the fighting has ended and the battle's won. Once Joseph has finally claimed his prize. There's a certain way his darling has to act. She’s got to smile and play the role of the dotting little sister once more. Just so Joseph can justify his actions...

"And your next line is, 'I love you more than anything else big brother Joseph!'...at least I wish it was." 

⭐Jotaro Kujo is cold and sadistic.⭐

Never learned how to love...

A lover by Jotaro's book is nothing more than a walking, talking doll. Someone who cooks meals, irons clothes, and kisses him on the cheek before he leaves for the day. Sure they have other uses, in flares of passionate moments, they're something to hold onto, another pair of limbs to get tangled in. Something hot and solid, someone to push down, to weigh his force on. 

That's it, that's all there is to it...

A lover and a convenient toy are one of the same. 

He knows it's wrong to think about someone that way. To deprive a living thing of all their thoughts and feelings just so it's suitable for him. But at the end of the day who wants to hear idle chatter and gossip or go outside for walks in crowded areas. All too social, it's all so troublesome. All Jotaro wants is a closed-off life, away from the scums of the earth...away from people in general. 

It's such an inconvenience to seek out a lover, to hassle through dates and meetups in hopes of finding someone that clicks. Jojo would even go so far as to call it wishful thinking. So it has to be a pure accident that he even meets his darling. They're just someone who gets tangled in with the crusaders. A perfect living perception of 'wrong place, wrong time'. Someone who's life gets blown to bits and shambles just because fate decided to play a cruel joke on them. 

And that's what piqued Jotaro's interest. The desperate, depleted look of pain cemented over their face. The sparse dying gleam of determination that blazes within their eyes. Oh, what Jotaro wouldn't do to snuff that little ray of hope. To watch as what little purpose they have is ripped from their arms. What he wouldn't do to see them in pain...

Pain is submission, that's really all Jojo wants. A darling submits, not out of their own free will, but because every little thing they've ever loved has been slaughtered, all that they cherished has been stolen from them. 

But it's not enough 

It's never enough

Although Jotaro adores the looks of anguish that decorates his lover's face. There's something more satisfying about maltreating them. About leaving marks all over, about leaving bruises that never lose their violet glow. He's claiming his darling, physically and mentally. Not a single day goes that Jotaro doesn't remind his lover who they belong to. From verbal taunts that plague his darling's mind day and night, to punches that break bones leaving them paralyzed on the floor begging for help, to cuts that are just a little too deep to ever heal properly. 

Even when his darling is behaving, even when the poor little thing does everything her lover tells her to do, there's still going to be some sort of violence directed at her. Some backhanded remark about how useless they are just because they couldn't follow his mother's recipe. Some sort of blow just for greeting him 'too late'. Trivial things morph into punishments, just for Jotaro's sick amusement.

At his core, Jotaro is an unresponsive man, one with no regard for how others feel. He's distant, it's a trait he can't change. He likes how he does things, how there's no room for slip-ups when it's only him. Even his darling isn't someone he'd consider opening up to. Their opinion of him doesn't matter and their feelings are irrelevant. Most days he's gone until the last possible moment, leaving his darling an endless amount of time to mull over every word and scar. 

But here's the catch.

As the clock ticks by, as the nights and days begin to merge into an endless existence, as all hope burns in the pits of hell, darling's mind is also going to stray. Ever so slowly losing its perception of reality. 

'Maybe' spiders begin to spin webs of doubt through darling's empty cranium. The isolation begins to bite at her skin like the razor-sharp fangs of frostbite. They start to crave Jotaro's harsh touches, they start to miss the venom-like words. Every insult and slap to the face is welcomed, all the misplaced anger and death threats start to feel like sweet kisses and flowery touches. 

Poor darling no longer sees big scary Jotaro as a monster. They've lost the ability to see him for what he truly is.

And what happens when Jotaro does finally come home? Oh, how little (y/n) will ravish in the gut kicks and loathsome words. How she'll take every beating with a sweet sugar-coated smile.

Cause this is her life now. A meaningless existence that revolves around Jotaro and his bleak personality. A life that's only worth living when Jotaro is around.

Is it even a life?

"Yare yare daze you're such a hassle, be glad I keep you around...”

⭐Josuke is obsessive with delusional tendencies.⭐

Maybe I'm the one you'll fall in love with next...

Just like his "father" Joseph, Josuke is stuck in a perpetual state between diaphanous and phantasm.

There's something all too wrong with Morioh nowadays. The narrow streets and verbose buildings have started to feel like a transparent cage. The town has always been small, barely reaching a population of 3,000 despite all the new families that keep moving in.

Nevertheless, everything has dulled, faded, and withered into a monochrome collage. The layers of repetitiveness had finally begun to pick at Joskue's nerves...

And yet somehow, by some diabolical twist of fate. In the mists of the oceans of familiarity, Josuke’s eyes grab onto some shimmering pearl lounged into between the crowd of familiar faces. 

Sure he's seen this girl before, but he's never actually seen her. Never stopped to look at the odd way their eyes twinkle like newborn stars or how their skin shimmers with the glow of a thousand suns. 

One second is all it took, a fleeting compliment as you passed by Jojo in the peppermint flavored afternoon. Your hair flowing like a tapestry of the galaxy as you disappeared in the crowd of dead pulsars. Not a care in the world, not for him, not for anyone.  

Destiny was definitely up to its old cruel tricks again. 

He's not stalking. Josuke will swear on his grandfather's grave that he'd never "stalk" a harmless little girl, like some distorted maniac. He just happens to bump into you at the beauty parlor when he's picking up a new brand of hairspray. And it's totally an accident when he meets you out in the abandoned fields! Honest! It's not his fault fate wants the two of you to keep meeting, it's not his fault that you guys are meant to be!

It's not technically a friendship that you two start to build up, it's far from one. Friends don't dream about sugar-filled kisses behind school walls. Or about ice cream that tastes like scandalous touches and candy induced moans. No, Joskue isn't your friend, he NEVER wanted to be your friend. He knows that! He knows what he wants...but with each passing day, he's beginning to doubt that you know that. 

He'd never realized he's been so sensitive on you. So entranced by your out of tune voice that muttered rather than spoke. He's seldom been so eager to throw a punch and crack his knuckles on someone's skull, just for saying you looked "lovely today". 

Whenever his eyes don't land on you, a rage-filled volcano bubbles in the pit of his gut, uncontrollable anger that festers inside of him, like lava waiting to spill out and burn anyone that wanders too close. His palms itch with the need to hold you, to feel your soft skin rubbing against his. 

The jealousy is always there, pricking at his skin like rose thrones. Until they inevitably cut through his flesh and make him lose his composure. He's ready to kick and punch and hurt and kill anyone that comes too close to you, anyone that saunters off their orbit and makes a beeline for you, disturbing the balance of solitude that Josuke so eagerly sets you into.

Sometimes in the dead of night, when the world has finally dozed off, Joskue's mind begins to wonder. He thinks the way he feels about you is the same way an addict feels about his drugs. Maybe to him, you're even more addicting than heroin and ecstasy...and yet he can't quit you, he just doesn't want to quit you. Nothing in this world could compare to your sweet voice that tickles his ear when you lean in, to whisper a secret, or the may your full lips move when you throw another honey-filled insult at him. 

He prefers when you're alone when he's the only one you talk to. 

Sure there are exceptions like everything in life, although in the end  

there's a sort of backhanded irony.

It's those exceptions that are going to hurt him in the. 

Josuke trusts his friends, he knows that Okuyasu and Koichi would never do anything to hurt him...

But you're not on that list and to be fair you're surely the only one who can truly hurt him.

You fall for a friend of his. Not him, not the boy that's been driving himself insane just to earn a smile from you, not the boy that let you get away with insulting his hair and poking insults at his look, not him never him, it just can't be him.

"You're like an older brother to me"...Did you wash your mouth with acid before you spat those words at him? Did you intend to lace your words with knives and blades and rubbing alcohol before you stabbed him? It's figurative, sure. But it might as well be literal. No pain, no cut, no punch from any stand would ever hurt so much! You really don't know what you do to him, do you?

"I'm happy for you," it's a lie, blank and simple. Automatic words that he's practiced in the mirror a thousand and one times. He'd rather watch you suffocate on your own blood than in the arms of another man. He'd rather break every bone in your body than watch you kiss one of his friends. 

How on earth had he ever come to love you? Someone as cruel and cold. Were you even human? You resembled some ice stand more than a flesh and blood person. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM.

He really hadn't meant for it to become an addiction, he hadn't meant to get all so used to the crunch of bones beneath his foot, and the bloodied lips quivering, shuttering out apologizes for having the gall to utter your name in his presence. But there's only so much a teenage boy can take, only so much torture that he can bury inside with a moonlight smile. 

Addictions really do funny things to semi-sane people, huh?

It's a split-second decision, done in the heat of an all so regular moment. It's just a simple half-hearted punch when you beat him at another videogame. Then another

And another

And another

Then a crack, another and another, and before either of you knew it you're on the floor screaming out in pure agony. 

Josuke vows he's not being cruel when he breaks your bones so delicately. He can justify every crack, every fracture. Although it's rather repetitive and in certain cases borderline petty. 

Five broken bones on your left leg just for "kissing" your new boyfriend. Your right leg is bent at an angle you're sure it's not meant to be. All because you hugged said new lover before going to class. 

Josuke's once liquidy blue eyes that held the softness of clouds have been dulled over by a sort of thick mania. His once soft touch is nothing but nails digging into already bruised tissue. His lips wobbling as stray tears flow past his eyes. Muttering apologies and stuttering curses at both you and himself.

It's not really like his darling can leave after that incident. Josuke is known around town as the boy with a diamond heart. There's no way in hell anyone will believe what he did to you. It's just better, safer, to stick close to him, to swallow the indignities and paint a loving smile over your face when you gaze into his depraved eyes. 

It's better to pretend to love him, rather than have another limb broken...

"Come on (Y/N), it's just a little crack. If you promise to give me a tiny kiss I'll let Crazy Diamond fix you right up."

⭐Giorno Giovanna is sneaky and manipulative. ⭐

Sono pazzo di te. Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata...

There's a sleekness to Giorno, a cunning that's hidden behind layers of charisma and charm mimicking that of his birth father's. It's so easy for him to fool his darling into believing that he's a charming prince from a storybook. He's the good guy trying all so damn hard to make his dream a reality. He's admirable, he's noble, he's Giorno Giovana, the golden boy.  

It's not like he ever intends to hurt his darling. He'd never dream of laying a hand on them, he's all too familiar with the wounds that come from endless beatings. The bruises and phantom pains, that get worse as the days slip by. He knows real pain, and unlike all so many others on both sides of his family, Giorno doesn't want his lover to experience an uncia of it. 

He'd never repeat what his stepfather and mother did to him. He's going to try and do everything he can to make sure that his darling is safe...

Because isn't that what's important? To make sure the one you love is safe. To make sure they don't get swept off their feet by some masquerading drunkard or taken advantage of by some fanciful sadist. 

Giorno will do anything to keep his darling safe, even if it means tampering with their mind a little. Nothing too serious, he'd never even considered changing anything about them. Although isolating them isn't completely off the table and a few verbal threats are fine from time to time. Just for precaution...

Giorno is a rather determined boy, he'll go to any lengths to isolate his lover. Scaring away friends by letting Gold Experience give them a small out of body experience. If they're persistent then he can't guarantee that that out-of-body experience will simply remain an experience much longer. It's not out of malice, but it's what must be done for the sake of his darling, the only other thing he cares about.

There's a shift, a difference between the young naive Giorno Giovanna, the golden boy with starry eyes, and the new boss of Passione, the Mafioso who holds the whole country in the palm of his hand. 

Oh sure, as a simple Soldato Giorno was dangerous in his own right. But Don Giorno? He's the sort of monster written about in the grimmest fairy tales. Wearing the appearance of a true king but underneath the luxury suits and priceless watches, he's just another greedy, fire-breathing dragon.

As the Don of Italy's most influential gang, Giorno's manipulation tactics have gotten rather ....hazardous. He doesn't have time to waste getting rid of every single person that poses a threat to his darling. If someone looks their way, he'll send some goons to take care of them. 

Although it's so much easier to keep his lover locked away, he even has the perfect excuse now. He's the head of the mafia, he has all so many enemies who jump at the opportunity to hurt him in some way. So he has to keep his defenseless little lover locked away in some mansion that's all so far away. 

He's also a bit more violent now. Giorno's more physical, ready to break a bone just for a wrong word or a cracked jaw from a punch for even asking to go outside. He blames it on the stress of running an organization...although it's more likely that all the power from passion has begun to rinse away Giorno's caring side. 

"Cuore mio, Resta con me per sempre"

⭐Jolyne Kujo is clingy and obsessive and delusional.⭐

I can't stay away from you...

Jolyne is a rather condescending yandere. Her rough ragged exterior does little to hide the clingy neediness that writhes inside her shattered heart.

She's soft, dependent, desperate at best. Wanting her darling to approve of every tiny trifling thing she does. Needing their words of praise and approving smiles to have the courage to live another day. 

At times it seems like the only thing keeping Jojo alive is the  "good girl!" and "I'm proud of you!" her darling throws her way. Chanting the words of praise with closed eyes and fluttering smiles of anxiety. 

It's difficult to make her sweetheart realize how virulent this relationship is, far too hard to call Jolyne a Yandere. The derogatory term applies to someone who ceases all control from their lover, who locks them in a basement, and throws away the key. It applies to murders and 

stalkers and lunatics that roam the streets in the dead of full moon nights. It applies to those who were thrown into Green Dolphin for a reason.

 Not to some girl whose life has been demolished over and over and over again. 

Not to the girl with a star birthmark that follows her darling around like a lost puppy in the freezing rain. 

But even Jolyn has her limits. She's been let down time and time again, abandoned and framed by those she thought she loved unconditionally. From friends to boyfriends to even her own father, everyone leaves, they take what they want, and then they leave. 

Flesh like strings, stitched into a web of antithesis and distraught moods, act as a  solid, interchangeable reminder of who really holds the power in this relationship. Of how Jolyne can go from needing her darling to controlling her darling in just a fraction of a heartbeat. She loves them, she swears she does...but they need to stay close to her, they need to only think about her. 

Her addiction gets worse as the days tick by. It's less romantic, less loving. Morphing into a dependency, a compulsion. Rotting thoughts of her darling suddenly leaving, plague her every waking moment. The once semi pleasant conversations between her lover and her friends, get cut off like a severed limb. 

Even Hermes and Foo Fighters aren't "good enough" to be around Jolyne’s lover. She's all so, scared they'll try to take them from her. Stealing the ONLY good thing in her life.

There's a certain degree of control that Jolyne's willing to give to her darling. A sort of freedom to make, revolting appalling choices, so long as they include her. A freedom to boss her around and make her submit. Her darling is free, so long as that freedom revolves around Jolyne.

"(Y/N)~ don't look at them! You should only focus on me! I'm supposed to be your world!"

⭐Johnny Joestar is sadistic and manipulative.⭐

Arrogance disguised as affection...

It's all degradation, all harsh words that sting worse than bullet wounds. Glares from dull wicked blue eyes that might as well kill, cause it's better than the alternative. Smirks that make being alive so damn distasteful. Kisses that engrave the lingering taste of rotting lead into your tongue.

Johnny isn't sweet, he doesn't smile at his little sweetheart. He doesn't pat their head and kiss their temples while uttering sweet nothings into their blushing ear. No, his lover doesn't deserve a honey-coated life. They don't deserve to have what was stolen from him by his so-called "loved ones". Instead, he uses them as a living dart board, for both his acid-laced words and bullet-like fingernails. 

There's no love when it comes to Jojo. He doesn't want to waste time on something so frivolous as a "significant other". But he does like having someone -or rather something- to play with, a form of entertainment that bends at his will. Not a pushover, not someone who's too proud either. But a living doll that can take a few verbal spats and survive an armada of fingernail bullets through the stomach. 

Oh, sure he wants to break them, having a toy that's so conflicted, that questions their own sanity is so much more fun. But it's the intervals that count. Johnny wants to be the one to break his darling. To engrave the helpless look of distress into his memory. He wants to preserve every scream, every tear. That's the whole purpose of even keeping a darling. 

Johnny rarely lets his darling out of his sight. It's so much easier to play with their mind if he's the only one they ever talk to. They'll become so easily dependent on him if he's their only companion. Although sometimes Gyro can get a little too touchy and friendly. And there will be occasions when Hot Pants start to pry into the darling and Jojo's personal life. But the incidents are few and far between. Not like Johnny minds, if anything these minor secondary "meetups" are useful to the paraplegic jockey. They refill his darling with the most precious thing..." Hope". Just so Johnny can beat it out of them all over again.  

There's a darkness that resides deep within Johnny. A toxicity that laces his actions. His life is miserable and he's damn well sure it'll always be that way.....

So why not take his lover down with him?

"Don't you love me darlin' ? Cause I certainly don't love ya."

⭐Jorge Joestar is delusional and obsessive.⭐

What if we lost our minds, together?

A love story better than his parents, that's all Jorge wants. Flower field dates, and quick lingering kisses before midnight. Something sweet, that doesn't have a macabre end. A romance without body-snatching vampires and zombies that shed their flesh. Something normal, gentle, lovable. 

Although with the family he's been born into and the kind of things that keep finding him. Jorge doubts he's ever going to get such a hopeful love life. He's all so desperate to carve a life for himself outside of his family's shadow, but in the end, it's simply eager wishing. 

He's not exactly sure what he's even looking for in a lover. Someone sweet but strong-willed, an average answer. Someone who bears a sort of resemblance to Lisa Lisa. Not physically but rather mentally, he's not a coward, he swears he's not, but he just wants someone who can protect him. A fair exchange in his eyes. His lover will guard him against the bullies and freaks of the island and in turn, he'll protect them from the grim ghouls that run amok through the world. Although when push comes to shove he isn't sure if he'll really be 'protecting' his lover or running away and hiding somewhere with them.

He just wants to fall in love and not go insane, a reasonable request, if he hadn't seen the worst that the world has to offer. It's just wishful thinking, sweet dreams for a boy designed to attract trouble. 

He doesn't want to have conversations with his dead lover's head. He doesn't want to wear their skin and waltz around town. He doesn't want any of that creepy, supernatural stuff that destroyed his parent's love. 

He just wants normal. But as the years slip by Jorge's grip on "normal" slowly begins to decay.

Normal is something, but what that something is has become a blur. Normal isn't vampires and zombies and ghost clowns that throw nooses around people's necks...Yet on the other hand maybe it is? 

He's so far gone that he can't even differentiate between methodical and irregular. His brain's capacity to understand the difference has gotten so altered and broken.

Once he finds his darling he does try to act like the ordinary people of the Canary Islands or England, depending on where he's residing at the time. He tries to follow the mode, just to impress his lover. It's a façade, a bloody masquerade that's bound to deteriorate once he and his lover have settled down.

Although a poetic, domestic life had always been Jorge's dream, he soon comes to learn that it just doesn't suit him. Jorge's paranoia starts to increase. It's comical at first, the way his eyes dart to closed doors, half expecting a killer to emerge. Although the same paranoid tendencies can become rather smothering at times. He's all so certain something is going to jump out of the shadows, some creature with sharp fangs and knife-like claws is going to rip his lover's body to rags. 

He's gotten rather umbrageous now that he's the one who's married and living in the Joestar estate. His tendency to run away from any form of conflict has morphed into a rogue-like sense, much similar to a rabid dog barking at anyone who gets too close to its territory. He keeps his darling locked away inside, triple-checking the locks to make sure no one or thing can get in. He avoids the probing disquieting neighbors who still speak ill of his widowed mother and murmurs about the "curses" bestowed on the Joestar bloodline. Sometimes even getting physical when the insults shift towards him and his new lover. 

Punches are thrown.

Insults exchanged.

And then the door and windows are locked once more.

Leaving both Jorge and his darling in the chilling company of the semi alive shadows.

It's safer in the basement. It has to be safer down there. After all his mother kept his father's severed head down there for decades before anyone found it. So it's only sensible that his lover will also be safe, tucked away in the darkness of a brick room some few meters under the earth. He's not acting like his mother -and deep down he prays that this isn't something his late father would ever even consider doing- It's a thin line of justification, but he can reason with himself so long as he knows it's not something his other family members have ever done. He does try to keep his darling comfortable down there. Buying them the most luxurious furniture and comfortable bedding. Constantly bringing them new forms of entertainment. 

Keeping them in this preserved state is what any reasonable person would do. Not just another insanity driven Joestar.

"It's for your own safety" he's repeated that phrase an umpteenth amount of times, although every time the sculpted words leave his tongue, Jorge becomes less sure of who he's really trying to convince. 

Jorge is all so sure that he's doing all of this for both his lover's safety and to erase whatever misfortune follows around the Joestars, like an airy plague. Even his enrolling for the great war is done with this mindset...

Even though in the end it's also this mindset that gets him killed. Leaving his darling a wide window to freedom. 

"Darling, what do you think when you look at me?"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[sepublic]

“It was all just a dream” Illusion?

            With how Illusionists have the terrifying ability to basically gaslight people and make them question reality, but on a scale unprecedented with all sorts of manipulation (jeez no wonder Odalia has no issue with the twins in Illusions), and VERY messed-up thought incoming here;

         But what if we get a scene where the head of the Illusionist Coven encounters Luz… And as a very meta acknowledgement of those edgy “It was all just a dream” theories, tricks Luz into thinking so? What if the Illusion Head trapped Luz in a simulation, where she wakes up to find out that everything about the Boiling Isles, all her friends and experiences- It was all just a dream!

         Maybe Luz acknowledges the trope as she did with how Isekais end with a return home for our protagonist… Pointing out this is VERY funny but not at all true, and a really dumb and edgy take anyhow! But the Illusion Head messes with her perception of reality, because again… Gus might be a teen prodigy but he’s still a kid younger than the rest of his classmates! What could a fully-experienced Illusionist, the head of his own coven, and presumably without morals as an agent of Belos, accomplish?

         It could be a dark parallel and contrast to Witches before Wizards… Not just in how the episode opens with Luz happily realizing it WASN’T all a dream, but also- Adegast tries to lure in Luz with her perfect fantasy, but she accepts reality as she is and dispels his lotus eater world! But then this… THIS messes with Luz and plays into that character development! She’s used to being disappointed, she learned to accept that things weren’t as great as they were… So when being told that it really was all just a dream?

         To Luz, who’s struggling with trauma and a bit more cynicism as of late… This might just feed directly into her insecurities, as she questions and doubts herself- Is she REALLY fighting the illusion? Or is she just in denial again, and she needs to accept the truth like she learned to beforehand…

         And, this could lead to a character moment where Luz basically learns to dream for herself again- To recognize that yeah, not everything is how she hoped it’d be… But there ARE good things in this world! It isn’t for nothing, and Luz? She learns to be more grounded for REAL this time… Previously she fooled herself with optimism, but now? Now Luz has fooled herself with negativity, assuming the worst, thinking she’s a terrible person and the others just barely tolerate her…

         She went too far in the other direction, so now Luz can balance out these takes- Things aren’t perfect, but they aren’t terrible. Yeah Luz has some room to grow, but she’s not the terrible person she thinks she is, she IS loved, and she’s allowed to hold onto and appreciate what she’s accomplished, all of her progress and effort! It isn’t wishful thinking, it’s real, and she won’t let anyone, not the Illusion Head nor herself, tell her it isn’t real!

         Again, it’d be a wonderful cap-off to Luz’s whole deal with perceptions, learning to love herself; Not be too positive, but not too negative either. It’d be such a nice parallel to an incredibly early, since-the-beginning episode, and cement another nuanced look at the whole fantasy and realistic expectations lesson. She’s still growing and adapting here, and Luz can accept that things ARE better for her, that things have improved, she’s done good things, and people do love her, actually.

         …Conversely, perhaps we might also see the Illusion Head play into Luz’s desires here. Maybe to adapt to Luz’s defiance, or not- Perhaps he plays up Luz’s wish to see Camila, to be accepted by her mother… Which is a neat contrast to our first Impostor Camila rejecting Luz, now we have one who fully accepts and loves her! And obviously the real Camila would as well, Luz will recognize that… But this isn’t real!

         Still, caught between not wanting to relapse into wishful thinking, and her own dreams being waved in front of her… And Luz might just be further confused. Is she playing into what she wants but isn’t real, or is she being too negative? It’s a mix of what she DOES want, and what Luz dreads… Like real life, and that’s just all the more confusing and traumatic.

         Maybe Luz gets taunted with Camila rejecting her, or a vision of an ‘ideal’ version of herself that Camila actually likes… Maybe even a look into Creepy Luz? It could lead to a dark moment where Luz insists that this isn’t real… Only to find Creepy Luz after all, and have a crisis- Maybe wondering if she ever DID leave the illusion, if she’s been trapped all along… If the truth was being told? Maybe dismissing Creepy Luz as fake, only to see she’s very much real, and so is Camila’s preference, etc.

         The Illusion Head might show Luz what’s going on back home, or illusions of her friends talking behind her back, about how they never really liked Luz anyway… And we could get a sweet moment where Luz is reminded of her genuine moments with them, potentially by said found family, as she scrolls through all of their kindness for her, such as the palistrom wood, Amity’s kiss, Willow and Gus’ Conformatorium protest… And Luz realizes and remembers that THIS was very much real, and she can’t be fooled here!

         It could also lead to a very cathartic moment where Luz reunites with her friends and accepts them with all her heart, so happy and relieved and whatnot… Just a very nice resolution, even as Luz holds everyone’s hands, hugs them hard, to assert that this IS real and not some trick, and finding comfort in that, in all of the little senses familiar to her about her friends, that are stimulated as reassurance. The smells, the textures, etc., it’s all there and it’s very much real, and it keeps Luz grounded and at home here.

         Just… With how Luz’s whole schtick is dividing fantasy between reality, I think an interaction with Illusions could be a VERY fun and clever episode- And get very twisted and messing with the viewer’s mind, as they question how much real and what wasn’t, if the ending is actually fake, and to what degree? An ending cliffhanger where at least one thing ISN’T real after all… Or something was unnoticed amidst the mind tricks, etc. Maybe even Luz and the audience wondering if she’s already been in the simulation, for a while…

        Again, anything that makes you question reality and perception, and struggling to interact with your world because you can’t even tell if it’s real or not- That is by far one of the most terrifying abilities ever, and I wouldn’t be shocked if the Illusion Head has genuinely traumatized people with his spells.

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Three Firsts

Day 2 of Jeankasa Week 2021: First Kiss

Ao3

There are different types of first kisses: The one at the beginning of a relationship. The one to seal a relationship forever. The one to welcome a new life into a relationship.

Another nightmare. Three years, and they haunted him at least thrice a week –the faces of his fallen comrades, the millions of children stomped into the ground, the thousands of families left without a home to return to. He faced them in his nightmares; they accused him of not having seen the signs in Eren earlier, they accused him for not running after him the day he’d left, for not forcing him to tell Mikasa -once and for all- how he felt about her.

Perhaps this was why he’d become so dead set with Armin’s ideals of peace. He wanted to help the world and the island, yes, but above all, Jean wanted absolution.

“Jean,” a voice called, and in the crowd of millions pointing fingers at him, Jean recognized it immediately. His friends’ voices anchored him to sanity, but this particular voice was also anchored in his heart. “Jean, wake up.”

Jean came back onto his senses. He’d fallen asleep at his study table in the royal library, where most of them spent their time now that the negotiations had started. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and stretched against the chair; budgeting wasn’t his forte…nor was it to try and convince a rich western president to spare scraps for the refugees. But Armin had trusted him with the tasks and Jean couldn’t let him down. Besides, he didn’t have the heart to leave all the work to his negotiations partner, who had surprised them all with her abilities with numbers.

“Hey,” Mikasa said to his right, reaching out to graze his arm with the palm of her hand. Jean jolted in his seat, confused at the sight of her. Mikasa drew her hand away and recoiled, and he wanted to slap himself in the face for his stupid reaction. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, I thought I was dreaming when I heard your voice.” He hurried to say. Mikasa’s lips formed an O and nodded, looking more relieved that he hadn’t been terrified of seeing her. Jean smiled, noticing her rucksack lying on the table…and the empty tables around. “What time is it?”

“Midnight, almost.”

“Huh?” Jean said, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here? Wasn’t Armin leaving at six today?”

Mikasa shook her head. “He left at five,” she corrected, giving him a sideways glance. “I was waiting for you to wake up. I didn’t want you to walk back alone.”

Jean’s heart leaped in his chest, and he pictured a small rabbit bouncing inside his torso. He shouldn’t be surprised, his mind reminded his heart. They’d exchanged letters before his arrival, they’d been comrades at arms in the battlefield, they’d stopped the end of the world together. Of course, she would be concerned about him. That didn’t mean she felt anything special for him.

Friendship love was still love. He didn’t aspire to anything else. Five months had passed since their arrival, and he was content with just spending time by her side, seeing her smile come onto her more and more naturally.

“Buses aren’t running anymore, are they?” Jean guessed.

“Last one must be leaving now. Historia took the last royal car about an hour ago,” Mikasa said, looking at the pocket watch Armin had brought for her from the continent. “It’s going to be a long walk back.”

Jean sighed and gave her an apologetic look. Historia had given them rooms in one of the newest buildings in the district, with beautiful views of the countryside and rivers and only a fifteen minute drive away from her own residence…and a whole hour walk away from the royal palace. “I’m sorry, Mikasa. You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

“It’s alright.” Mikasa replied, coming to her feet, grabbing the pink cardigan she’d laid out on her table. “We need to get going, though, before all the drunk people come out of the pubs.”

“Allow me,” he said, standing from his chair and taking the cardigan from her hands. She blinked up at him, almost startled, and Jean had to chuckle. “Turn around, please.”

She did as he requested, and Jean helped her put her arms into the sleeves, then flattened the wrinkled fabric on her shoulders. Mikasa looked at him over her shoulder, locking her eyes with his for a moment that stretched an eternity. “Thank you,” she whispered, her low voice creating a pocket universe around them even in the empty room.

“We need to get going,” Jean said, clearing his throat and reaching out to grab her backpack from the table. He focused on the books he’d laid out and began stuffing them in her bag. “Can I put these books in here? I’ll carry it for you. Mine’s already full.”

“I can carry it.”

Jean shook his head. “No, let me. I’m the one that’s taking all these books home.”

“We’re both working the budgets, Jean, I can carry my own backpack.”

“I can do it.”

Mikasa pressed her hand against the paper he’d been about to stash away, stopping him midmotion, narrowing her eyes as if examining a new life organism. “Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Not a ghost, but the outlines of his desire for her, which he’d worked so hard to suppress the past months. The impulse of kissing her overcame him whenever they did their runs to Historia’s orphanages, whenever he saw her smile and play with little Ymir and her friends (who loved clinging to her three at a time, since they knew she was the strongest around), when she was focused doing calculations he was too dumb to understand…when she spoke to him.

She’d grown so talkative the past month. At first, it had only been with him and Armin. But the more time passed, the more he noticed her opening to people. The other night, he’d seen her having dinner with Pieck, Hitch, and Annie. From their table, he and Armin had heard her laugh alongside for something Pieck had said about Annie. Later that very night, she’d walked back to their apartments with him, talking about the littlest matters and court gossip Historia filtered down to them whenever she felt bored.

Being her friend was his most precious treasure, and Jean didn’t want to ruin it by putting his romantic love for her first.

“I’m fine,” Jean replied, turning to look at her after a deep breath, counting to ten as he always did whenever he felt the urge to kiss her. The curiosity in her deep eyes pierced through him, and in the enclosed space, Jean’s almost felt as if an invisible force drew his body to hers. He straightened before he got any closer, clearing his throat yet again, ignoring the pink tint of her cheeks. “We need to get going.”

_________________________________

In the end, she hadn’t let him carry her backpack for her. He seemed tired enough as things were, and a couple of extra pounds on his back would do nothing to help his health. He ate well enough, but he never got many hours of sleep, and it concerned Mikasa. She wanted to wake him up before, at eleven, when Historia had sent her errand boys to let her know the last car was leaving the royal library…but he’d looked so cozy on the chair, she hadn’t had the heart to wake him. She’d decided to wake him until the nightmares started, certain they would catch the night bus.

Not that she didn’t enjoy walking the whole way back with him. They’d done it plenty of times these months, when their work extended long hours into the night. In most occasions, they’d walked back in a group, accompanied by the banter of Pieck and Reiner, or by Connie’s longing remarks for his girlfriend at the continent.

Besides, she’d taken a liking to dinner with Annie, Pieck and Hitch the past couple of days.

All in all, it had been a while since the last time it’d been the two of them alone on the road home. She liked being alone around Jean; his presence gave her reassurance. At first, it had been like a firm, sturdy ship that had pulled her out of a sea of monsters and terribly high waves crawling with corpses. But now he was a tree; a tall tree overflowing with beautiful ripe fruit, perfect words for any situation, with astonishingly wide branches to cover her from the searing pain of guilt and grief.

It had taken a while for his roots to take hold in her heart. But they were there, growing deeper with each day, cementing themselves further and further into her soul.

She’d felt this before, when her first home had been ripped away from her, when that little boy with the green eyes had reached out to her and offered her a new one. Back then, they’d been surrounded by so much horror that she hadn’t figured out exactly what the boy with the green eyes had meant for her. Now she was an adult, however, well past her first heartbreak, her first lost love. And she recognized the same warmth in her heart whenever she looked into the hazel speckled eyes of the man walking by her side.

“The moon,” she said, pointing at the sky. “It’s really pretty tonight, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Jean said, looking at her instead of the sky. “Are you cold? Do you need my sweater?”

“I’m fine,” Mikasa shook her head and rubbed her hands together. “We just need to walk quicker.”

“I can carry that for you.”

“Jean.”

He hunched his shoulders. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you carry it,” he said with a kind smile. “But if your back is sore tomorrow, don’t blame me.”

“I won’t.”

“Because I’ll tell them the truth, Ackerman,” Jean said, chuckling as she turned to look at him with her brow furrowed. “I’ll tell them you’re as stubborn as the will of kings, three times more stubborn than the queen of Paradis itself…I know, I know what you’re going to say. ‘You’re an idiot, Kirstein’.”

“You are. And you’ve learned from the best,” Mikasa quipped back. “I mean Connie.”

Jean laughed, his voice mingling with the echoes and faint music coming from the pubs around them. Mikasa covered her mouth to laugh; she’d never thought anyone would ever consider her funny…no, she had never thought she would ever feel compelled to tell a joke, or just act her age, ever again.

Her friendship to Jean was her most precious treasure after those three years. Her love for Armin had not wavered, he was still the only family from her past she had left, but Armin would have his own family soon, at the continent. And she couldn’t blame him or force him to stay. She wanted him to move on from the pain, even if that meant leaving her behind.

The thing was, Mikasa didn’t want Jean to leave her behind.

“You look thoughtful.” He pointed out as they passed another pub.

“I’m thinking about Armin,” she replied. “About the wedding.”

“Are you excited about it?”

“Not more than he is.” Mikasa said. “I’m just shocked.”

“Shocked?”

She nodded. “We fought so much against them, the Marley warriors, the titan shifters. And now we’re dining with them, and Armin is marrying Annie.”

“Strange turn of events?”

“It’s weird how life doesn’t go as you imagine it,” Mikasa replied, tilting her head back to look at the moon, its surface rough and damaged, and still the most beautiful sight in the sky. “If you’d asked me five years ago how I imagined my life, I would’ve told you…”

Her voice disappeared gradually as she realized she’d almost mentioned Eren. Jean didn’t mind talking about him; in fact, that’s all they had done the first couple of weeks, reminisce about the past, about their time as soldiers. However, the more time they spent together, the less she liked bringing him in conversation. Why, she didn’t understand. He’d been Eren’s friend, after all.

“You would’ve said you wanted to spend the rest of Eren’s years by his side.” Jean finished saying. “You don’t need to be ashamed to say it. You love him.”

“I loved him.” She corrected, not wanting to look at Jean. Her love for Eren was there, of course, but there was only so much love she could give a dead man. “And you’re right. That’s what I would’ve said…and I would’ve had no idea of what to do afterwards. That would’ve been the end of the line for me. I never thought I’d be alive after Eren’s death.”

“What do you think you’d say now?” Jean asked. There was no hidden message in his words, just genuine interest for her wellbeing, for assurance that she would not drown in grief again, as they’d found her upon their return. “If someone asked you how you imagine your future now, what would you say?”

“I’d say I want to keep living,” she said, with much more certainty than what she’d expected. “I want to keep living with you guys. I want to see little Ymir at school. I want to be at Armin’s wedding, and at Connie’s wedding. I want to keep hearing Hitch’s jokes. I want to keep walking home with you after work and make dinner together.”

“I wanna keep making dinner with you too.” Jean replied, with the longing look she’d come to recognize so well the past few weeks.

Mikasa brought her hands up to her face to blow hot air into her palms, hoping the gesture would cover the color in her cheeks, thinking perhaps she could blame the cold, if he asked, or if he stared too much –he did tend to stare at her every now and then.

“Hey. The skin in your fingers is cracking,” Jean said. He grabbed her hands to examine them, stopping in front of another pub. “I know you’re saying you want to keep living, but catching a cold isn’t precisely going in that direction.”

“Are you going to scold me like a kid for forgetting my gloves?” Mikasa asked, her gaze threatening to turn into a glare.

Jean gave her a playful smile. He brought out a set of bandages from his pockets and began wrapping her fingers with the soft fabric. “Exactly. Papa doesn’t like when children forget their winter clothes, especially when it’s starting to snow.”

Mikasa snorted again. “You’re such an idiot. Please don’t call yourself papa.”

Jean laughed, and they wrapped themselves once again in their little universe. It happened often, when they cooked, gossiped about the court or simple when they worked their budgeting books in the library. One look from either of the two, and they became separate entities from the reality around them, with their attention solely on the other. It was a nice little trick they had; it was what had turned this friendship of theirs into her treasure.

“Put my gloves on, please,” he said, putting them in her hands. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“Jean, a cold isn’t deadly.”

“Still.” He said, his face growing serious. “I don’t want to see you hurting.”

Mikasa opened her mouth to say something, but the crowd coming from the pub to their right was louder. A group of twenty people or so, all their age, surrounded them in a circle of drunken laughter and cheers, their voices too loud for her liking, their faces red and bodies oblivious to the snow that had started falling from the sky. A man older than the rest had a violin in his hands, and despite his efforts to play the cheery little melody, Mikasa and Jean cringed at the dissonant sound from his strings.

“We need to get home. They’re not dangerous, but they’re too loud.” She told him, huddling closer to him. Jean put a hand on the back of her head and the other to her waist, as if to shield her from the crowd. A group of girls pulled the violinist to an empty stretch of street. The man, emboldened by being in front of the crowd, stood on a bench near him and played even more passionately.

Jean turned to look at her, laughing. “He’s really bad, isn’t he?”

Mikasa felt her chest moving in laughter. She closed her eyes as another set of high notes pierced the night. “He’s awful,” she laughed, huddling closer as two couples began to jump nearby. She opened her eyes, cringing still. “Take me home, please.”

Her eyes met the hazel in his; he was staring at her again. There were snowflakes on his hair and face, and his cheeks were more blushed than the cheeks from the people around them. She felt herself relax in his arms and the stupid little tune from the violin became muffled in her ears. “You have snowflakes,” she pointed out, lifting herself up on the tip of her toes to run her thumb along his eyebrows.

She traced a line with her finger down his jawline, wondering when he’d grown into such manly shapes. He leaned in, barely half a centimeter, and her body took that as all the invitation she needed. Mikasa grabbed his face with both hands and touched his lips with hers, moving them in an awkward, simple motion she’d seen other people her age do.

She thought he would push her away that second he held his breath; she thought he would reject her advance, tell her he saw her as nothing more than a friend –a possibility that, she was shocked to realize, made her feel as if an iron fist squeezed the blood out of her heart.

But after that moment of initial shock, Jean wrapped her waist with his arms and lifted her in the air, kissing her as a longtime lover. Whoops and cheers surrounded them, and the violinist stopped playing for the blessed seconds their lips moved against each other.

He put her on the ground and pressed his forehead against hers once they’d finished, catching his breath while the drunken crowd clapped and cheered. He closed her eyes and so did Mikasa, both at a loss for words of what they’d done.

“Oi!” the violinist shouted, and the crowd quieted around him. “Aren’t you the Ackerman girl? The titan-killer? Stronger than a thousand men?”

Mikasa tensed in his arms; she was accustomed to being antagonized by some groups in the island, but she’d hoped the alcohol would keep them from recognizing her. She didn’t like the idea of getting into trouble with Jean there.

“Yes,” Mikasa said, lowering Jean’s arm, which he’d begun wrapping around her protectively. If this was going to be an argument, she didn’t want them to antagonize Jean. “I am. Why?”

The violinist smiled, playing an out-of-tune chord in excitement. “I knew I recognized ya! I didn’t know you had a sweetheart!” he shouted happily. “I saw you in Trost! You saved our lives and you were just a little teenage kid! I never thought I’d see the day I’d see you happy and married.”

“Oh,” Mikasa said, relaxing. “We’re not married yet.”

“Yet?” Jean asked suddenly.

“That’s a lovely sweetheart you’ve got there, boy. Take good care of her or she might as well will rip your balls off,” the violinist half-shouted, half-laughed, putting his instrument under his chin and bowing in their direction. “For the happy couple.”

“For the happy couple!” the crowd cheered on. The violinist resumed playing –or rather, he resumed murdering the song— and the crowd resumed their celebration, forgetting about them as soon as another couple began kissing. Mikasa pulled him by the shirt, leading him into an emptier street. They stood under the shadow of a tall building, away from the crowd but near enough to still hear the violin, although this time the song didn’t sound quite as bad.

“They didn’t take anything from your backpack, did they?” she said, clutching on the floor to inspect hers.

“Did-did you say yet?” Jean managed to stammer. Mikasa looked up at him, and a smile came to her at his shocked expression. It was just so easy to smile when he was around. “Did you say we’re not married yet?”

“You’re going to get a nosebleed, Kirstein.”

Jean laughed and dropped his backpack next to hers; he clutched, close enough that she smelled his cologne. He inspected the contents of his bag for a brief second and then gave her another look. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Do you want to?” Mikasa said.

“I’ve wanted to for a whole month now. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, though, Mikasa. Just tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy.” He said in an urgent whisper. The raw intent of his words took her breath away; he’d grown into such a good man, he’d become such a good friend. She couldn’t deny him another kiss. No. It wasn’t that she couldn’t deny him a kiss.

She just wanted another kiss. From him. Not anyone else. “You’re not.” Mikasa said, cradling his face with both of her hands. “Your kiss did wonders to cheer up the night.”

_________________________________

Mikasa waited for the music to begin while tapping her slipper on the cobblestones, ripping another flower petal off the bouget to rob its soft surface. At this point, she’d walk in with nothing but skinny branches in her hands. She fanned herself with the bouquet, thinking should’ve cut her hair beforehand; It was late spring, but the heatwaves were already upon them. Her dress was light enough, but Mikasa guessed the nerves were playing against her.

He liked her hair long, though. And she loved feeling his hands running through it.

“Are they ready yet?” she asked Armin the moment he walked around the corner.

“Historia’s ready,” Armin said, then scratched the back of his head. “Jasper is tuning the instrument.”

“We’re just signing those documents,” Mikasa said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her back against the wall. “None of this has to be this grand…he can just play that silly little tune of his and be done with it.”

“Weren’t you the one who got insisted on getting this violinist guy? You went all the way into the inner districts to find him. Something about it being special?” Armin said, arching an eyebrow. Mikasa gave him an icy look, but that didn’t erase the knowing smile on his face. “You’re going to get your dress stained against that wall.”

She straightened and turned around, allowing Armin to shake the dust of the back of it, her eyes set on the birds flying overhead. “Was he nervous?”

“He had to change his suit twice from sweating so much.”

Mikasa lowered her head to snort. “I’m not surprised.”

“Turn around,” Armin asked. Mikasa did as he requested and allowed him to wrap her up in an embrace; she leaned her face against his shoulder and took a deep breath, steadying herself. Her feet had been trembling in anticipation for a good hour. “I’m so happy you get to smile like this.”

“Me too.” She said, coming apart from him, tucking her hair behind her ears. Soft, mellow notes drifted to them from inside the greenhouse Historia had provided for them and Armin gave her an excited smile.

Mikasa sighed in relief; the violinist had assured her he was good when sober and she hadn’t doubted him, and she was glad Connie had kept him from any pubs until the ceremony. She wouldn’t have minded to hear the same stupid tune from their first night together, but the prospect of queen Historia officiating a wedding ceremony with a drunken violinist…Connie aand Reiner would’ve found it hilarious, to be fair.

“Are you ready?” Armin asked, offering her his arm. Mikasa looked at the birds once more before focusing on her childhood friend.

“Yes.” She said, intertwining her arm with his. Armin kissed her cheek and looked away to wipe a stray tear from his cheek against his shoulder, Mikasa guessed. “Thank you, Armin. I love you.”

It was so easy to tell the people she loved that she loved them. He’d done that for her; he had managed to open her constricted heart by just being there with her. He’d saved her from herself in such a kind, gentle way, and it was something she would forever be grateful for. It was one of the many thousand reasons why she’d fallen in love with him.

She felt like a giddy schoolgirl by seeing him at the end of the hallway, hands clasped in front of him, staring at her with tears in his eyes. The feeling grew as her friends turned to look at her, all smiling, even Levi. And while she knew her head ought to have focused on happiness, Mikasa was reminded of all the horrible things they’d seen together as Armin walked her down the aisle. All the people that were missing in that crowd of friends, people they would never see again.

It made her wonder. what was it about her that was so special? What was it about her existence that had given her the right to keep living, make new friends, fall in love with this wonderful, perfect man waiting for her at the altar…why was her heart so full of happiness now. Why couldn’t she share this happiness and her love for Jean with Sasha, Hange, Mina, Marco, Eren?

“Hey,” Jean whispered as Armin let go of her arm. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“What’s the matter?”

Mikasa lowered her head. “Not everyone’s here to celebrate with us.”

“They are here.” Jean said. “They’re all watching over us.”

He took her arm in his gently, not to lead her to the altar, but to hold her steady. He’d noticed her change of expression, a change not even Armin at her side had seen. And, putting his own desires aside -as always when it came to her-, he spoke in the low, caring voice she adored so much. “We don’t have to do this right now, Mika.”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure?” Jean asked. “If you want to call it off—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her hand went up to caress his cheek. “I love you.”

He smiled at her, looking as charming as the princes from little Ymir’s fairytales, awakening that childish giddiness in her heart that had escaped her so quickly at the thought of her fallen comrades. “I love you too, Mika. But I mean it, if you don’t feel—”

She kissed him in the lips for a long couple of seconds, uncaring about the curious gazes from their friends on the seats. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. It’s been like that for a while. It’ll be like that forever,” she whispered in between kisses. “It’s time we make it official.”

Historia cleared her throat from the other side of the altar, and she and Jean turned to look at her serious gaze. A childish giggle echoed across the place, and Mikasa guessed that was little Ymir, delighted to see someone other than herself had gotten in trouble with her mother. “You’re not supposed to have your first wedding kiss yet.”

“Let’s go,” Jean whispered. “She’s gonna bring firing squads back.”

“I heard that.” Historia replied, not without a hint of annoyance. Mikasa giggled, intertwining her arm with Jean.

“Are you sure?” he asked her in a low voice as they finish making their way to the altar.

“I told you before, haven’t I?” she said without looking at him. “Your kissing works wonders.”

_________________________________

Jean knew he shouldn’t have left for the coastal towns with the welcoming party for the Hizuru commission at this point. But she’d insisted. And she was as stubborn as the will of kings.

Luckily, the little influence he had had gotten him an overnight train ride. And then, he’d found a horse. Few people used horses at the island anymore, but it’d been the quickest way to avoid the traffic of the newly built roads. And since he couldn’t take a horse into the grounds of the royal hospital, Jean had had to run.

He stumbled into the hospital room with sweat running down his forehead, hair sticking to the nape of his neck despite his ponytail, out of breath, but just in time. Armin was at her bedside, his face purple due to the pain of having his hand being squeezed by her.

“You’re here!” Mikasa sighed at the sight of him, then looked at Armin. “Make room for him.”

“I’ll let your mom know you’re here, Jean.” Armin informed him, running out of the room. Something in Jean suspected he was just relieved to have the chance to get some ice for his hand.

He ran to her bedside, brushing hair away from her flushed face. “How much longer?” he asked, his chest aching from seeing her twisting on the bed from the pain.

Mikasa cringed as another contraction came over. “You came just in time.”

He kissed her forehead. “Is it bad?”

“I could say I’ve felt worse,” Mikasa said, closing her eyes as her pain increased. “But I’d be lying.”

“You’re perfect,” he said, kissing her forehead one more time. “I wish I could do this for you.”

“You’d be crying like a baby by now, Kirstein, you and I know that.” She teased, and Jean laughed in relief. If she had energy to give him snarky, serious remarks, she would be fine.

“Ah, this is dad?” a woman he guessed was a physician asked, coming in the room escorted by two young nurses. Mikasa nodded, and the doctor acknowledged Jean with a polite nod. “You made it just in time, sir, she’s all ready to push.”

Jean swallowed hard, exchanging a look with Mikasa, noticing fear in her face for the first time in a long time. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “You can do it.”

“I know I can,” Mikasa said, taking a breath through her mouth. “Just hold my hand through it.”

He took her hand into his and suppressed his squeal of pain when she began pushing, thinking he would look like a complete dumbass if he complained from some hand squeezing when his wife was giving birth right in front of his eyes. Despite her quiet nature, it didn’t take long for her to start screaming as their child came out of her, and Jean could only whisper encouraging, love-filled words to her as she brought forth the life they’d created. The life she’d grown and carried for a whole nine months.

Jean had never thought his love for her could grow larger, but he’d clearly been mistaken, he thought as Mikasa crumbled back onto her chair and tiny little squeals filled the room. The physician and two nurses began cleaning their child, and Jean fell to his knees at the side of her bed. “Are you okay?” he asked, kissing the hand that had almost broken his just a moment ago.

Mikasa nodded, kissing him once on the lips. “And our baby?”

“She’s fine! A perfect, healthy baby girl!” the doctor announced, bringing her over to them wrapped in a yellow-colored blanket. “Want to hold her first, dad?”

“Let mom have the honors,” Jean replied, staring in awe at the tiny human crying in the doctor’s arms. “She just did all the work, didn’t she?”

The doctor placed their baby in Mikasa’s arms, who grabbed one of her tiny hands and kissed it while making shooshing noises. Jean stared, mouth wide open, at the sight of his wife and his child. Two perfect beings living comfortably in a peaceful world; his family, all he’d ever wanted. He swallowed hard, wondering what he’d done to deserve such a beautiful, perfect sight, what he’d done to deserve to be loved back by her.

Jean looked away, wiping the tears spilling down his eyes with the back of his hand as their daughter fell asleep at the sound of Mikasa’s voice. “Hey, dad,” she called gently. “Come see her, don’t cry.”

He leaned forward on the bed, and Mikasa kissed his cheek, using one of her hands to wipe his eyes. “She’s so beautiful. Look, she has your black hair,” he whimpered, running a careful finger across her soft arm. She gave him another smile, the type of smile he’d grown so accustomed to see these past years, a smile that people had doubted it even existed during their years at war. “Mikasa, I love you two so much.”

“I love you too,” she whispered while kissing his neck. “I love you so very fucking much.”

“Hey, language,” he said, kissing her lips and then grabbing their baby’s tiny hand again, speaking with a silly, childish tone of voice he’d heard other fathers use with their newborns. “We’re gonna need to get a swear jar or something. Mom and uncle Levi will fill that one up nicely.”

“Want to give her a kiss?” Mikasa asked.

Jean nodded eagerly, leaning forward to give her a small peck on the top of her tiny forehead; their baby stirred in her sleep, and it didn’t take long for her to begin crying. “It’s okay, Jean. Don’t be scared. Do you want hold her?”

“I’m fucking shaking here, I’ll drop her.”

“Language, Kirstein.” She reminded him, faking that serious expression from her teenage years. “Give her another kiss, come on.”

“She’s going to cry.”

“Just do it?” Mikasa said. “I want to see something.”

Jean sighed and leaned in to place a peck on her daughter’s cheeks, copying Mikasa’s shooshing noises as he neared her. Soon after his lips touched her, their baby quieted down again, closing her eyes as she settled against her mother’s breast. “Hey, how did you know that was going to happen?”

“She’s just like her mom,” Mikasa said, setting her eyes on the baby girl they’d created, the baby girl they would pour their love onto for the rest of their lives. “Your kisses do wonders to cheer up the women in this family. Remember that.”

[misora-msby]

scarred love.

rating : mature

word count : 4.3k

themes : angst, slight fluff, implied and mentions of sex

notes : based on vistlip’s CLASSIC OPERA // this is my first work on this blog, i hope you enjoy!

“I don’t think he loves me anymore.”

“No way… That’s not the case, I’m sure!”

“That’s what I want to think but…”

Suna could barely believe as he stood outside the bedroom door, hand barely making contact with the handle. Was that really what you thought? 

“I wonder if it’s normal for couples to fall out of love at this stage.”

“Mm… there’s certainly been couples I’ve known like that. They were in love for years but after they got married they decided it wasn’t the life for them and divorced.”

Suna heard your gasp follow the tinny voice from the phone. He had heard of similar stories before but never thought it would happen to him and you. 

Ever since you had gotten together, he was always subtle in his love. He was never the type to outright say “I love you” in public or to boldly proclaim his love for you on social media. Suna preferred linking pinkies while walking or to post photos of your study dates with simple captions like “another ‘10 minute break’” or “we are going to collapse”. 

Despite this, when you were in the privacy of your apartment, he almost never left your side. It was either his head on your lap, his legs laying over yours on the couch, or you sitting on his lap in some way albeit still being relatively quiet. 

So to think you were getting upset with the little attention he was showing recently had him confused. Wasn’t he always like this?

“But Y/N, I doubt Suna-san’s fallen out of love. Isn’t it just that his new job with EJP Raijin is keeping him busy?” 

“Y-Yeah but… he hasn’t said anything about it. He comes back late and leaves early and it just… It just sucks so much! I don’t know what to do!” you sob and Suna can hear the sound of you blowing your nose and coughing through your tears. 

Taking a step back from the bedroom door, the middle blocker moved to the couch and sat for a moment, head in his hands. He knew love couldn’t be perfect. A perfect relationship without fights or problems was just waiting to crumble from the slightest crack in it. But he wanted to at least prevent you from thinking this way. 

He wanted you to know he did love you. 

Later that night, he crawled into the bed, freshly showered and in his pyjamas - an old thin t-shirt and a pair of boxers. You laid beside him in your own pyjamas - one of his big t-shirts and a pair of shorts. 

“Y/N,” he turned onto his side and called your name, causing you to almost jump while attempting to fall asleep with your swirling thoughts.

“Yes, Rin?” 

“You have a free day tomorrow too, don’t you?”

“Well… yes. Why?”

The bed shifted under his movement to hold himself over you. 

“W-Wait a second! Rin! I’m not prepared or anything- mmf!” 

He pressed his lips to yours, his fox-like eyes shut delicately as he kissed you passionately. Before you knew it, his hands moved to your sides and began to lift the edge of the shirt up, but were quickly pushed down. 

“Rintarou,” you lightly pushed on his chest, “I uh… I’m not wearing any nice underwear… A-And I haven’t shaved. Can I go change and do that?” 

Honestly you were very surprised that he suddenly wanted to do this. Suna was always one to do things out of the blue; your relationship was built on impromptu dates and spontaneous gifts he claimed ‘reminded him of you’, but this really had came out of nowhere. 

You hadn’t been intimate in weeks and you wanted to at least look good for it, but Suna just shook his head. 

“You’re fine like this. I love you however you look.” He leaned back down and began to place kisses along your jaw and neck. 

His kisses were softer than usual, you noted. And his hands weren’t rushing to tear your clothes off like he usually did.

“Rin- ah! Rintarou, why are you doing this all of a sudden?”

“We’re both free tomorrow. Can’t I spend my free day with my girlfriend the way I want to?” he asked, looking up at you through his thin lashes. 

“Still! That gives me more time to go get ready.”

“No,” he shook his head and continued to kiss and bite along your neck and collarbones, leaving his marks of love on your skin, “I want to spend every second that I can with you now that I have the time.”

“Wait a second.”

Suna finally pulled his lips away from your skin, now littered with little marks, “What’s wrong?”

“Since when were you so romantic? It just… Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy it’s just a little funny…” 

His eyes widened at the sight of tears welling up in your eyes.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked, cupping your face in his large rough hands gently. 

“I’m more than okay! No… I don’t know why I’m crying…” you sob softly, rubbing at your eyes. 

Suna chuckled lightly. “Is it because you’re filled with overwhelming love for me?”

“Rintarou!” you whined and hit his chest lightly. “You’re absolutely insufferable!”

“You say that but you were the one who asked me out on our graduation.” 

“...you little shit. I really do love you.” 

“Mm, I thought so. I love you too.” He continued to kiss and strip you.

Unlike your usual nights together which were spent fucking roughly, leaving bodies sore and lightly scarred, tonight was slow and loving albeit passionate as ever. Soft kisses and laughs were exchanged in the dark as Suna made love to you, thrusting slowly while mumbling words of love into your body. 

The next morning, you were woken up by the feeling of a kiss on your forehead. Your eyelids fluttered open and you squinted in the morning light to see Suna sitting on his side of the bed, clad only in boxers. There was also the scent of eggs and toast, and when you looked down, you saw it sitting on a plate between you two.

“I’m no Osamu here. But I think my cooking is still edible,” your boyfriend sighed before flopping down onto the bed beside you and closing his eyes. 

“You actually woke up to cook for me?” you asked, sitting up to look at the sunny-side-ups with broken yolks and the toast that was just a little too toasted for your liking. 

“Surprised myself too,” he yawned before squinting his eyes open, “More like… I wanted to surprise you. And wake you up with a kiss.”

“You’re so cheesy today, aren’t you!”

“I know, I think it’s weird too.”

On that day, you knew he still loved you. And you loved him more than ever before.

But that happiness couldn’t last forever. In the city of Tokyo where sadness and troubles rained down, something was bound to happen. Even the most heavily cemented cracks could once again break under a heavy enough pressure. 

Even if it took a couple of months.

“Rintarou! Welcome home!”

“Mm.”

Your brow furrowed slightly as you noticed his short answer. After shutting your laptop where you were answering some work related emails while waiting for your boyfriend, you made your way over to Suna who was hanging his winter coat by the door.

“Rin, are you alright?”

“Just tired.”

You sighed softly, “You shouldn’t overwork yourself. You need breaks sometimes too, you know?” And reached up to begin massaging his shoulders as you usually did. But he only pushed your hands away quickly, saying, “Not tonight,” before walking further into the apartment.

You bit your lower lip to prevent it from trembling any further while your hands stayed still as if frozen mid air. You were hesitating to tell him what you wanted to say earlier.

“Rintarou… Tomorrow you don’t have scheduled practice, right? I…” you took a deep breath as he turned to face you, eyes dark and heavy-looking. 

“Yeah.”

“I was wondering… Well, I don’t have work tomorrow either so I reserved a place at a nice restaurant for dinner! I think we both need a bit of a break, work’s been so busy and you’re also training so intensely and-”

“No.”

“H- Huh?” you laughed nervously, “What do you mean by ‘no’?”

“It means what it means, I don’t want to go.”

“Rintarou, you can’t just- I can’t- I promise it’s a really nice place! A-And I wanted to spend some time with you…” there was a lump welling up in your throat as you tried not to suddenly pour out your recent feelings towards him. 

The recent frustrations of not being able to spend much time with your boyfriend anymore, the annoyance at the way he would always spend his free time doing self training, the anger towards his schedule which rarely ever allowed you to meet, the sadness of the fact that your shared apartment no longer had the sound of laughter when you two played games or watched silly YouTube videos together...

All that frustration felt like it was just being held up behind that lump in your throat, and to think he would simply dismiss it without a second thought.

“You should’ve asked before you started making plans. I’m going to the gym tomorrow again. We have a match against the Red Falcons in two weeks so I need to become at least a bit stronger,” Suna explained monotonously, as if you should have known that already.

“I- I know but… I thought… it’d be a nice surprise…”

The man sighed and turned to walk towards the bathroom, ready to just shower and go to sleep. He simply could not be bothered to argue with you, thinking this problem would solve itself like it always did. But you had had enough of this issue.

Suna hadn’t even realised it was coming until he felt a small bell keychain hit the back of his head. It fell to the hardwood floor with a loud clang which lasted for far too long, causing him to inhale sharply and turn around, anger and annoyance replacing the bored expression on his face for once. 

“What the hell is-” he was about to raise his voice until he saw the way your features trembled and your eyes had already become red and puffy. His own features softened and his body unstiffened. “Y/N…”

“You know, the least you could do is try to be nice to me!” you yelled, furiously wiping away the tears forming. “You could at least say “Mm, I’m really not free but we can do it some other time.” or some shit like that! But no! I- I’m busy too, you know! I’m trying to get promoted so I don’t have to rely on yer dumb ass all the time, but I still want to make time for you because I love you so much! But I don’t think ya get that!” 

Something in the back of your mind was telling you not to say these things, that maybe you could just talk this out calmly. Maybe you didn’t have to explode, but something else told you this was the only way to get a point across.

“I’m your girlfriend, but I feel more like a roommate or burden at this point! Ya know, even ‘Tsumu’s able to make time for his girlfriend! And- And Bokuto’s always doing his promotions and ads but still makes time for his boyfriend! Ojiro-senpai too! Miyu-chan tells me he’s the one planning the dates! But ya can’t even be bothered to pretend you’re happy I tried ta plan somethin’ for us!” 

Suna knew you really were angry when your dialect started coming out but he just didn’t know what to say. He could only stand there in silence with his head hanging like a child being scolded.

“Rintarou… I love you so much you know… I just wonder these days- no, I just wonder if you ever loved me back the same way.”

Oh, he knew. Ever since that night when he heard you crying on the phone, he knew he wasn’t doing enough. 

“I… I’m sorry.” Suna looked up when he suddenly heard those words from you amidst the sobs and chokes. 

“I already left your pyjamas on the bathroom counter… Please don’t… Just please don’t talk to me tonight.” you hurried to the tiny kitchen to wash your face as he silently made his way to the bathroom, thoughts swirling around in his head. 

Suna stared at your figure silently for a second before bending down to pick up the bell - a cheap gift he had given you for your third month together right after you two first started university. It was old, the string slightly frayed and loose, and the golden paint had chipped in places to reveal the stainless steel underneath it. There was even a dent on the bottom from when you accidentally dropped one of your heavier textbooks onto it. It was old, and Suna had told you countless times it was fine to throw away, but you always kept it. 

The man took it and carefully placed it back on the key rack before heading into the bathroom. He took his time in there, gathering his thoughts as he knew he wouldn’t be sharing a bed with you tonight.

It was understandable really, he hadn’t been a great boyfriend. Suna knew a relationship took work from both sides and he shouldn’t have been as blunt as he was earlier that night. 

One couldn’t count the number of times he had muttered profanities aimed towards himself while sitting in the bathtub thinking about his mistakes. He didn’t know if you would even want to see him tomorrow morning. Maybe it was for the best he just went to the gym…

The next morning, Suna woke up early. Even in winter, the sun rose far too early in Japan for his taste. Sitting up and grumbling, he rubbed his eyes and stumbled to the bathroom to begin his morning routine.

Looking at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, he could only sigh at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes. 

Though you made him sleep on the stiff couch last night, you gave him the shared duvet and his pillow while you took the slightly thinner blanket from the closet. 

Despite the added comfort, Suna could barely fall asleep. He kept twisting and turning, thinking about you. Your pained face, your strained voice, your kindness even when angry at him. 

“I fucked up so bad,” he muttered once he washed his face and stared at his pathetically tired self in the mirror, water dripping from the ends of his hair. Would you want to break up with him after that? He’d understand if you wanted to, though he knew he would never be able to forgive himself for losing you because of some stupid mistake he could have prevented. 

Suna sighed for what felt like the thousandth time in the past 12 hours and dabbed his face dry with a towel. He knew that now would be the hardest bit - entering your bedroom to get his change of clothes.

Opening the door as slowly as possible in order to prevent the loud whiny creaking that he wished he had fixed months ago, Suna walked slowly towards the open closet. As quickly as possible, he grabbed a set of clothes and turned to face the door. Though it wasn’t without looking at your sleeping form on the large bed. 

Your face was puffy, dehydrated from sobbing last night, only emphasised by the wads of used tissues on the nightstand and floor. He noticed your breathing was a bit heavier than usual and your body was curled up as you hugged the thin blanket as close to yourself as you could.

The sight pained him intensely. 

With silent footsteps, Suna set his clothes on his side (the empty side) of the bed and tiptoed out to grab the duvet before returning and carefully laying it over your body. He tucked it right up to your chin as you always liked it and sat on the floor, eyes scanning every little feature on your face. From the smallest moles he loved to kiss to each individual eyelash.

“You’re not hearing this, I guess,” he muttered, looking down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at you, “I thought about it for a really long time. I really should’ve been better to you.”

The silence in the room was deafening. 

Suna gulped and bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about his next words, wondering if you could hear him in your sleep. 

“I always left you alone but you would always be nice to me. When you could, you’d make me bentos and clean the house while I did the laundry. Hm… putting stuff into a machine isn’t anywhere equal to cooking and cleaning surfaces, but I guess that’s another point to make.” 

Suna smiled to himself just a bit at the memory of you running into the bedroom to make him try your new pastries or dinner creations. He always thought you were so adorable in your old and stained apron that sometimes he would just stand in the kitchen to chat with you or watch you cook.

Then he was reminded of the dinner you had planned for the two of you and he suddenly frowned remembering how horrible he acted towards you the night before.

“You never expected me to be perfect since day one. I think I’m the furthest thing from a handsome prince on a white horse. But you’ve always been wonderful to me. And I was thinking…” You were asleep, right? Was it worth it to say such cheesy things?

“I kept wondering if you would leave and I thought I don’t want to lose you. I’m nowhere close to a prince but I thought I want to always be the one who wakes you up with a kiss. Or, I want you to wake me up with a kiss. Either is fine really. But… yeah. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. ” He was certain you weren’t hearing these things yet there was a dark blush on his cheeks.

Until he saw you shift in the bed. 

Suna swears his heart stopped momentarily as he leaned closer, checking to see if you had woken up. 

Your eyelids slowly opened and you squinted tiredly at Suna, just barely able to see him with how blurry your vision had become. “Rin…?”

The man hurried to his feet, hoping his morning wouldn’t feel any heavier than it already did. 

“I’m gonna give you some space. I’ll be back after my jog.” 

Suna turned to exit the bedroom but was stopped by the sound of stumbling, followed by your warmth around his waist and resting on his back.

“Please… don’t go.”

He stared silently at the floor in front of him. 

“I don’t think you want to-”

“Stay here! …please?” 

Your soft voice broke but mended his heart at the same time. The scratchiness and fear in your voice contrasted with the words that he wanted to hear so badly.

“Did you…”

“Yeah, I heard everything.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course I’m still a little mad. But right now I’m just really happy you would say those things when you normally wouldn’t tell me how you feel. So… please, don’t go. Stay with me.”

The few moments of silence seemed to pass in eons as Suna took in a shaky breath before turning to hug you tightly, burying his face into your neck so you couldn’t see his tears of relief.

“Of course I will. I won’t go anywhere, babe.”

Four years have passed since that night. Suna yawns and scrunches up his face slightly at the way the sunlight enters your shared bedroom. Squinting his eyes, he looks around the room and wonders if maybe he should’ve put on a shirt like you did last night to deal with the first bites of winter. Then again, you did take his shirt.

He then looks to you, sleeping quietly by his side. You looked a little like a mess; hair messy, dwarfed in his big shirt, cheek smushed against the pillow, but he thought you looked adorable. 

It’s cold, but he feels warm by your side. 

And when he looks down at your left hand resting under his even in your sleep, the sight of the silver ring with its diamonds adorning your finger makes his heart even warmer.

[bthump]

You probably already answered this before, but why did Judeau stop Rickert from telling Guts that Griffith was so broken up about him leaving? Does Judeau not want Guts to feel guilty or emotionally overwhelmed? Is it because he is trying to protect Casca's feelings (she's not even present in the scene)? I'm just not sure what was up with that.

Oooh man I love that moment so much, I have talked about it before but I'm more than happy to talk about it again lol. (Here's the short version if you prefer, but I want to thoroughly dig into what Judeau's doing here in one post.)

Judeau has pretty much one role in the story at this point and that's to convince Guts and Casca to fuck. Seriously lol that's like his sole function once the gtsca subplot kicks off. Especially in this scene - on the very next page Judeau changes the subject to Casca taking over as leader and then mentions that he thinks it's unfair to her.

Later in the scene he straight up tells Guts that she was calling his name in her fever dreams while recovering from arrow wounds, and ofc this all comes after Judeau initially planted the idea in Guts' head right before Guts left, in chapter 33. And finally he finishes this scene with the unsubtle suggestion that only Guts can do something to save Casca from the burden of leadership:

Note Rickert's little question mark after Judeau finishes - it's calling attention to Judeau's clear agenda and the artificiality of what he's saying. It's a way of highlighting his manipulativeness here. This is further cemented by moments like the aforementioned headshake, or Guts giving him a straight up suspicious look when Judeau tells him to leave with Casca again shortly before the Eclipse:

It's funny like, the first time Judeau directly brings up the possibility of Guts hooking up with her Guts is surprised and calls his suggestion random:

At this point this reads like Judeau being a bro and giving Guts genuine helpful advice, and Guts awkwardly protesting because he hasn't considered the romantic tension between him and Casca, so he needs a friend to point it out for him. Basic romance trope, right?

But then it just keeps happening, until Guts flat out looks annoyed and questioning the final time Judeau suggests it.

Ultimately I think Judeau is an instance of Miura adding a little bit of realistic complication to the typical matchmaker/good advice friend character. Judeau isn't just trying to set Guts and Casca up because he thinks they'd be good for each other or because he wants his friends to be happy - Judeau is lowkey in love with Casca, doesn't think he's good enough for her, but thinks that Guts is, because Guts is a master at something and Judeau isn't, and that's how Judeau judges people's worth, because he's got some self-esteem issues. He explains this in the very same chapter he starts encouraging gtsca to happen:

And of course his final words before he dies are an expression of regret that he never told Casca "that important thing."

Basically what I'm getting at here is that Judeau is consistently the one who encourages Guts to bone Casca, from getting Guts to first consider it when he never had before, to subtly (and later less subtly) influencing Guts to take Casca away from the Hawks with him. Our attention is drawn to this through characters' reactions to Judeau's words, like Rickert's questioning and Guts' irritation. And when we learn that Judeau is in love with Casca, we should also then be able to realize that his role was not your classic, shallow "good friend giving good advice" dude, but rather "biased friend giving biased advice because he has his own issues too, because Miura enjoys playing with classic tropes" dude.

SO ALL THAT SAID, when Rickert tries to tell Guts how Griffith feels about him and Judeau subtly tells him to shut up? That is directly telling us that Guts understanding how Griffith really feels about him is incompatible with his relationship with Casca. Judeau wants that relationship to happen, which is especially highlighted in this chapter, and he doesn't want Guts to know that Griffith destroyed his own life because Guts left. Guts and Casca only connect romantically when Griffith and his feelings are out of the picture.

And honestly, that tracks completely.

Guts textually initiates sex with her as a distraction from thinking about all the painful Griffith-related shit he let Casca stab him over and Casca tried to kill herself over:

Much the same way Griffith initiated sex with Charlotte while telling her to take all the sad and frightening things and cast them into the fire.

After having sex with Casca he manages to bury the realization that Griffith loves him for a good three days even after he let Casca stab him out of guilt for abandoning Griffith (not to mention Rickert telling him), and only fully accepts that knowledge in chapter 71 with the line "Why do I always see these things after they're done and gone?" Appropriately enough, right after Casca has broken up with him.

More generally, Guts and Casca start feeling jealous and getting weird during the rescue mission as they get closer and closer to Griffith, Griffith is why Casca breaks up with him and also why Guts privately chooses not to leave with Casca after all but to stay with Griffith before that, after the Eclipse Guts abandons Casca to chase Griffith, after Hill of Swords he chooses to stay with Casca after Griffith tells him he has no feelings and ditches him in the snow, the Beast of Darkness tells Guts to leave Casca to find Griffith, Casca wakes up and can’t look at him while Guts can’t get Griffith’s intense stare out of his head...

Casca, imo, is a method of repression, a straightforward goal Guts can focus on to avoid thinking about his complicated feelings, and to keep thinking of Griffith as a godlike, unreachable figure.

uhhhhh yeah so tl;dr that panel means Judeau knows that Guts isn't gonna want to fuck Casca if he finds out he can fuck Griffith instead.

(or yk phrase it as “judeau knows guts isn’t gonna want to leave with casca if he finds out griffith fell to pieces when he left the first time and therefore the whole become griffith’s equal to get his attention thing was bullshit all along’ but same difference)

[rhysdarbyarchive]

"The star next door" - 2010 interview with Rhys Darby by Sarah Thomas

from the October 24, 2010 issue of the Sunday Star-Times

AS DEPUTY cultural attache Murray Hewitt in Flight of the Conchords, it was his job to sell New Zealand to the Americans, coming up with slogans such as: "New Zealand. Take your mum", and "New Zealand. Like Scotland but further".

In reality, Rhys Darby is the first to sing the praises about life here, eschewing a career in Hollywood to bring up his sons Finn, four, and Theo, nine months, with his wife Rosie, a comedy producer, in Auckland where he says most locals are distinctly unfazed by homegrown celebrities.

"It's another good reason to be living in New Zealand, as we don't have a big tabloid culture. I think we've got one paparazzi guy and he's so nice, he asks permission if he can take a photo," Darby says. "The most famous people here are the All Blacks, and even then you see them down at the supermarket and people don't really care."

Occasionally, when he goes outside of Auckland, he might be approached by teenagers who want a photo for Facebook, or young girls who squeal with excitement. "I squeal back," he says. "Wah! Waah!" But it remains to be seen how much longer he can sustain life on a small scale. He is currently mooted as one of the names to join the award-winning US comedy series The Office when Steve Carell departs next year, and such a move will cement Darby firmly into the big league.

In 2007, Flight of the Conchords rocketed him to overnight success, if you discount, of course, his 10 years of stand-up before that. As Murray, the well-meaning but irksome manager of Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie's band, he somehow managed to keep his character on the side of pathos, rather than ridicule. Devoid of competence, Murray tried to compensate in other ways, such as his regimented band meetings, so pointedly marked by his insistence on a roll call for its three attendees, all of whom were always sitting facing each other.

"He was different to other comedy characters at the time," says Darby. "The kind of David Brent or Stephen Merchant's agent, characters who were, at the end of the day, pricks, you know. My guy wasn't. He did have a heart of gold . . . as this particular Kiwi character, everyone could love him. It was the empathy that I encapsulated in Murray that I'm most proud of."

Roles in Yes Man with Jim Carrey, and Richard Curtis's The Boat That Rocked, followed. Although his family previously travelled with him, they have all been back in Auckland now for more than a year. Darby flies back and forth to the US when needed, but relishes fatherhood. "I love it," he says. "What I love about it is I'm such a kid at heart. I'm really enjoying having two boys, playing with toys and sharing adventures."

In fact, it's rather telling in the way that Darby talks about playing with his children. He says they watch cartoons together or play Lego, letting that spark their imaginations from which they conjure up further adventures to act out in their backyard. So that's three kids playing, then? "Well, the little one's too young; he just sits there," he corrects, failing to register that, at 36, he's technically not a child at play either.

The overactive, playful imagination of a big kid is at the very heart of Darby's talent. His unique stand-up, surprising in being so far removed from the stiffness of Murray, is a surreal romp through the sorts of things that might occupy the mind of a young boy: jet packs, car ejector seats, mermaids and machine guns, all related through sound effects and mime.

Although mime is not usually the height of comedy gold, Darby carries it off. And, yes, somehow, he makes a grown man mimicking flight with a jet pack actually hilarious, mostly because it's not so much acting, more a glimpse into the crazy whirlwind of adventure inside his mind. It's not just him making a funny rocket noise, you get the whole gamut: putting the pack on, dealing with fuel problems, working the emergency landing gear. There is feasibly very little about using a jet pack that has not been drawn out from his imagination.

His skillfulness may be down to the fact that he's such a veteran performer, having cultivated his craft in his backyard since his childhood. Darby's imaginative spark was born of necessity, where separated parents and a large age gap between him and his four older siblings meant it was down to him, and his mother, to make their own entertainment.

"A lot of it does come down to my mother," he says, "because when I'd go home from school every day, she was always trying to make me laugh, and we'd have fun together and do silly voices and things."

So why comedy, rather than other familiar pursuits of a bored country kid, such as music or petty crime?

"I think we're all wired in a certain way," he says. "And for me, I'm wired to see the lighter side of things and to laugh . . . I used to watch The Muppet Show and I just wanted to be, not so much Kermit the Frog, but I wanted to be someone who brings joy and happiness to other people - not for my own self-indulgence, but because I like having a good time."

That spark didn't lead Darby immediately into comedy; he left home for a three-year stint in the New Zealand army as a communications and electronics operator. He doesn't see it as a case of the army being the worst possible career choice for a wildly creative, funny kid - his decision was largely influenced by the films he'd seen at the time.

"It seemed obvious for me. To no one else but to me, to be honest. There was a time around 1989/1990 where there were a lot of war films coming out that popularised guys getting dropped in behind enemy lines and rescuing POWs, and I felt that maybe that was an option for me," he laughs.

"Before I went to university, I decided I was going to be a journalist, and that was based on my obsession with reading Tintin books, so that's how my mind works."

IN THE mid-1990s he left the army for the University of Canterbury, where he began to dabble in stand-up. Increasing success on the home front led him to try his luck on the international festival circuit, including the Edinburgh Festival in 2002 where he came across McKenzie and Clement and their unique brand of musical comedy. The Conchords were picked up by a BBC radio channel and later by US network HBO, and a cult hit was born.

He says the success of Flight of the Conchords never surprised him, such was the effortless charm and skill of McKenzie and Clement. "It was just their banter, their great songs and how very, very relaxed and laidback on stage they were. It was almost like they didn't want the fame, they didn't want to be comedy heroes. You could sense that there was no ego there, it was more like, 'Oh, what are we doing here?'

"It was that nice spirit that sort of embodies New Zealand - we're just happy to be here."

Post-Conchords, he landed straight in Hollywood's deep end, playing the Murray-esque bank manager, Norman, in the Carrey vehicle Yes Man.

"It was very quick and surprising," he says of his leap into Hollywood. "It was daunting, going on set, and sometimes I felt that I wasn't good enough. Even when we finished filming and all was said and done, I just remember thinking, oh, this is going to be terrible and everyone's going to go, 'Who the hell is this guy?'

"Then the film came out and we went to the premiere and my bits got the biggest laughs, and I just couldn't believe it. I just couldn't wipe the smile off my face."

His family have been a stabilising presence amid all this madness, he says. "I didn't go to any crazy parties," he says. "I have lived a very grounded family life for the last six years or so. I still haven't had any moments where I've been shot out of a cannon and landed in a big pile of cocaine."

HIS LATEST stand-up show - It's Rhys Darby Night - moves the small-town boy story to Hollywood, covering dealings with agents and management, where "there's about seven Americans trying to turn me into this big thing".

The show includes the usual array of sound-effects and nonsense, as well as other characters he has developed, such as Bill Napier, "a slightly misogynist" Kiwi park ranger, about whom he has a US pilot in the pipeline.

He also has two romcoms ahead, Coming and Going and Lovebirds, both of which are in post-production. He says it's a chance to see whether he can do a role that's a bit more appealing to women.

"I'm not going to be the next Hugh Grant, but it's certainly worth having a go. I'm sick of being that nerdy goofball loser that people love, but you'd talk to him for a while at a party and then probably head off. I wanted to have a go at being somebody you'd genuinely hang out with."

Although there is still no confirmed word on The Office, if a role arises it would be one he couldn't turn down. But in some respects it would be hard to envision him taking on a character that would be little more than an extension of Murray's white-collar buffoonery. At the same time, the romcom road seems a bit of a stretch, with that mop of "electric copper" hair and slightly googly eyes a barrier - perhaps thankfully - to a convincing fit.

Instead, it seems unbelievable that no one has attempted yet to capture the creative, rubbery physicality of his stand-up and moved him towards filling Carrey's shoes, or a whimsical, fantasy character in a big-budget children's movie.

Where does he see himself in 10 years? "Mars," he says, without a pause. "I think by then we will definitely have ships going there and I want to perform in the first comedy club that opens up." Good job he knows how to work a jet pack.

Rhys Darby will tour the country with his show It's Rhys Darby Night, starting in Tauranga on November 28, then going to Invercargill, Christchurch (where ticket sales will go directly to Christchurch Court Theatre), Nelson, Hastings, Palmerston North, Hamilton. The tour ends in Auckland on December 18, where the show will be recorded for DVD. www.rhysdarby.co.nz for venues, dates and booking details.

[theyarebothgunshot]

ROSE I AM FREAKING OUT HAVE YOU SEEN THE PREQUEL STUFF???? WHAT IS GOING ON, my god... I was literally about to go to sleep, decided to check Tumblr one last time and see this.... what WHAT!! WHATTTT!!!!!! I don't even know if this is good bad or what but just JENSEN IS PRODUCING A SUPERNATURAL PREQUEL AND DEAN'S GONNA BE THE NARRATOR OR Sth LIKE???? -🐸

YEAH i am normal about this <3 (jk i am also freaking out) welcome to: people screaming to me in my inbox about prequelgate ft. j/2 fallout theory. let's goooo!

Another copypasta and suddenly chaos machine is full on gay I love this prophecy

you know whats funny i just checked the j/2 tag and i feel like for the first time in a long time they are starting to realise that maybe THEY should be the ones who are "gutted" *sips tea*

ROSE HOLY SHIT ROOOOOOOOSE ITS HAPPENING HOLY SHIIIIIT

YEAH

Nevermind just read prequel and well good luck I guess but just you know kind of bleh who wants to watch John Winchester well let’s have hope anyways

i know a lot of people are bummed out but i am kind of very excited actually?? i trust robbie and even though yeah j*hn winchester turned into a nasty abusive bastard, it can be interesting to explore how it all started (imo). it's just the first of many stories they can tell.

I can only accept this circus if it’s Dean telling the stories to his and Cas’ kids and then we have a revival to show that the whole finale was in fact the end Chuck wanted there Jensen I fixed it

i would not say no to this

heyloo bee anon here

um- wtf is happening?

jackles prequel series?? why? i want to be excited about this but sheesh im scared

because supernatural is never dead <3

okay, but, jensen... john winchester ≠ jdm, you don’t have to go /that/ hard for him 🙃

true true... though i am waiting for jdm to comment on this, please i need it

WAIT A SECOND J2 FALLOUT THEORY TRUE??

LMAO HELL YEAH BESTIE

Rose you really picked the worst time to sleep for real

bestie it was literally 4 in the morning, what do you expect from me sdfjsfhsf

I can’t literally can’t we were all right LMAO j2 fallout theory is real and cockles (Misha supporting Jensen) is [gunshots] I’m just laughing cause what the hell is this timeline we’re living LMAOOOOOOOOOO

we would always end up here <3

Do we have the copypaste anons to thank for JP basically confirming the J2 fallout? lol 🦚

yes, everybody say 'thanks annoying idiots!'

ROSE, WAKE UP, COME HERE,

THERE'S A LOT GOING ON FFS

YEAH I KNOW BUT I NEEDED SLEEP

Anticipating that there's going to be a lot of yelling about the prequel on here: I am cackling, but also, I mean, the first time Dean got a look into his parent's past, Cas was the catalyst: literally entered Dean's mind and catapulted him to the 70s. So idk, it's not completely unreasonable to expect some Cas cameos, maybe setting up a parallel timeline since Dean is narrating. What I'm saying is, this is Jackles, he's getting JDM and Misha in on this lmao -Honeymoon Anon

you were right lmfaooo also i fully agree. misha's tweet further cemented that thought for me. he knew about this prequel and i dont think he is cas-baiting us, i think he'll be involved. i'd also be obsessed to see jensen and jdm act together again (though idk who jdm could play seeing as it's a prequel and he is way too old to play young j*hn)

longlivethetribbles heeft gevraagd:

Heyyyyyy bestie, are you SEEING the absolute madness going on right now holy shit

well a little late but I SURE AM BESTIE

bestie wake up pls s16 finale just dropped.

- 🍯

and WHAT a great one it was

I love coming home from work to see all of the chaos unfolding on Tumblr and Twitter. I'm absolutely buzzing right now. I'll probably still be here by the time you wake up and check tumblr 😂 - 🐢

lmaooo and were you still awake?? did you see my freak out??

Oooh bestie wake the fuck up, I know you’re gonna be excited for this one jsnsjsj

god i had SUCH a morning like. it's 12:00 now and all i did since i woke up is check tumblr rip

short summary: jen and dee gain the rights, they post on ig/twitter about a prequel ft john and mary that no one asked for, the fandom loses its everloving shit as usual, they trend on twitter thanks to the beloved twt intern who missed us, misha qt’s jen about cas possibly benefiting from being in the prequel, then j*red qt’s jensen abt how his feelings got hurt by him not being told about a prequel his character as no involvement in & he initially throws a tantrum, and the rest is history - 🦋 anon (ps: i hope this helps a little, i’ve been scattered brained trying to keep up with it all night lmao so pls let me know if i missed anything, bug crew !!)

thank you so much darling i figured it out eventually but this is a helpful summary!!!

I hope you enjoyed waking up to all of this XD -🐢

i sure did!!! also that answers my question about you being awake lmao

I WILL NEVER EVER EVER FORGIVE MYSELF FOR SLEEPING THROUGH ALL OF THIS DRAMA AND NOT EXPERIENCING IT IN PERSON I DIDN'T NEED THIS SLEEP - tea anon

well the party was still going strong this morning so im not TOO "gutted" see what i did there lmaooo

Now that you are caught up with the news... So idk if you remember this but...didn't jarpad tell jackles he was up for a reboot in an online panel? And jackles answered that this was news to him??

-🍯

yeah i think you are right but he was clearly joking and didnt expect jackles to actually be working on something already

J2 anon spare more of those anons let's finish this - tea anon

please, we're having a ball in this bitch

I saw a post on tumblr where someone said now that Kripke gave J&D the rights, maybe they’re starting with a prequel just to end on a reboot in years time and honestly ? I wanna believe that so badly. This is tinhatty but what if this is all calculated in a way that makes it so that Jensen is slowly starting to fix everything that was wrong with spn - now that he has the rights and he’s slowly making spn his own story ?! I mean he did say in his ig post he wants to ‘fill in the rest’ - and maybe Mary and John’s story is only the beginning of spn related content from J&D to come ??? Maybe he wants to give spn the justice it deserves ?? Thoughts ??

i dont think this is tinhatty at all i think this is very possible and not that much of a reach. i could see this happening yeah for sure

want to hear something funny. I found out I had a ruptured blood vessel in my eye because I was sending my friend a video freaking out when the prequel news dropped and I noticed the corner of my eye was red af. and when I got back online jared had tweeted.

DJFHSJD ANON THE CHAOS OF IT ALL, HELP, are you okay? <3

rose.. bestie... how are you feeling about The News? nsfshsf being european is a curse </3 🐞

i feel GREAT im living for it i feel on top of the world tbh (and yeah it really is dsjfhs)

What am I waking up to I can't WHAT I rested my eyes for like 5 minutes help *hits reblog button* - anon anon

yep yep essentially djfhs

“Jensen and Misha are Co workers who barley talk”

I can’t be sure of course but I’m fairly certain that this is the copypasta that brought the j/2 fallout theory back to life. Who’s apparently ‘barely talking’ now? skansjsjsj. It’s almost prophetic, these j/2 anons have superpowers I’m telling ya.

-poker face anon

next time we get one of them we should be thanking them lmaooo

ok, but are we gonna talk about the "When Daneel and I formed Chaos Machine Productions, we knew that the first story we wanted to tell was the story of John and Mary Winchester [...]"-quote because the way this is phrased implies they formed CHAOS MACHINE Productions with the intent of telling this story (first), i haven't been in this dumpster long enough but the name just tickles me in that Misha way, isn't it so sus??? am i missing something???? i mean with this announcement they SURE lived up to that name... 🧩-anon

you are absolutely right, chaos machine SCREAMS misha and we are all here for it!!

hey hey hey. joining the clownverse, there's no way THEE cas girl danneel doesn't know just how much the fandom loves misha and cas. so 2 + 2 = misha in the spn prequel!

AGREED

So I think I finally managed to catch up on wtf happened while I was asleep and my brain melted. What a shit show to wake up to.

Anyway thoughts.

I don't hate the idea of a Mary&John sequel. I think it has the potential to be good (It has the potential to be really bad too, so I'm kind scared).

🕯️🕯️🕯️ manifesting Mary being badass and John being kinda useless🕯️🕯️🕯️

As for the Jensen and J*red thing.

I can see Jensen not telling J*red even if they are still friends, because J*red is kinda good at accidentally telling Secrets. He could have told him right before he announced it so, so that J*red didn't have to find out from twitter. He was on the show for 15 years, he is bound to get asked about it. The public twitter meltdown was really unprofessional so. Like you have Jensen's number J*red. You could have sorted that out in private like a normal person, but instead you choose to act like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Is it weird that I'm actually going to be kinda that for them if the actually had a falling out, even tho I don't like J*red all that much. They seemed to be really important to each other and while I thought before that the might have triefted apart a bit, I didn't think that the where actively fighting.

- 🐌 anon

the thing is, the polite/normal thing for jensen to do was text him before announcing it on twitter. it's weird he didn't, and that makes me believe that maybe yeah they did have a falling out. especially with the way j*red responded to it on twitter. if he had no other reason to be this upset (no prior beef or falling out) you'd think that he wouldn't be responding like this. on the other hand, the man is a mysterie to me so who the hell knows. i'm not gonna mourn about it if they did/do grow apart because j*red is just.... awful imo.

[sohin-ace]

Hermes - Switching Cells

*looks at watch* Would you look at that? It's gay time!

Fem reader

"Why did they make us switch cells again?" You glanced up at the tall dark-skinned girl next to you as she scoffed, rolling her eyes to the back of her head.

"Pfff... Some bullshit." She huffed exasperatedly, "They caught two girls being all nasty and frisky and they got mad."

Hermes and you were currently both walking along the hallways, all your belongings in your arms as two assigned guards escorted you, holding onto the chains tied to your handcuffs like a lifeline as they kept careful watch over you.

You could see other inmates doing the same from the corner of your eyes, moving from corridor to corridor and getting ushered to pack their stuff faster.

Everyone in the prison were to move from their cells and switch cellmates. It was the new rule that had just been established after some people decided to act a tad more intimate than they should appropriately have within a strict prison and disturbed other inmates as well as some night duty guards.

When the announcement was made in the court yard, the entire staff present to break the very important news down to the people, all the inmates started laughing their asses off between annoyed grunts and 'booh's.

Anyone would. How stupid was that rule? What kind of prison even forbade physical relationships between inmates? How was intercourse ever harmful to jail discipline? Weren't prisons in Florida famous for rape culture and letting inmates basically abuse each other? What about 'prison sexuality'?

All these questions you and your fellow comrades couldn't answer.

Your assigned guards set you up in your new cell after you finally reached it and locked the door behind you two, leaving you to settle down before phone calls time.

You stared around the small windowless room, cemented walls and armored door. Well that sure changed from the huge bars from before. To be fair this cell seemed even better than the old one.

"So... What are these things for?" You pointed at the bars on the small frame cut on the metallic door.

"To prevent girls from snatching each other I guess? Not like that would stop anyone but ya know... No one else but the guards on duty can see the inmates now so I suppose that's what they wanted." Hermes cleared, still salty from the ordeal and unnecessary bother.

She threw her belongings somewhere and you turned your gaze away from the door, you could only agree with her scepticism. "Hmmm... Yeah that's bullshit."

Hermes plopped herself onto one of the beds with a breathy groan, supporting the back of her head with her arms, certainly claiming that bed as hers.

Your eyes widened a bit in surprise and slight confusion when you realized that the two beds were in the complete opposite sides of the room.

"They... They even removed the bunk beds?"

"Yeah," She scoffed with a smile. "To be honest that just makes what they want to prevent easier. Like, you could easily just- Tch, I'll never understand the warden."

You looked around a bit before putting away your stuff neatly, unaware of your cellmate's sneaky and insistant eyes on you.

"Are you gonna be okay? Without F.F., I mean." You asked without taking your eyes off of your current task.

"Hah, you should worry more about her than me. She's the one that's stuck with Jojo."

"Hey, Jolyne's not that bad..." You chuckled in your ex-cellmate's defense, "...When she puts her panties away, at least."

The room became awfully silent until you suddenly heard Hermes chuckle lowly, almost evilly, even. You turned your head around to look over your shoulder and saw the latina give you a mischievous sideway glance.

You blinked and furrowed your brows at her in confusion but she only smirked back, swallowing another chuckle.

"Girl, do you want to have a good laugh?"

Her sudden deep voice made you gulp and you swore you felt a wave of heat wash over you and a pearl of sweat glide down your forehead.

Oh no, first of all, she didn't have any business being this hot, sprawled on her bed like that, her strong arms flexing effortlessly and her enticing smirk reaching her golden-green eyes.

Secondly, you knew that when Hermes had ideas, they were almost just as bad as Jolyne's. And God knows that Jolyne could scream dumbass energy like no one else sometimes. Especially when she was bored or horny. Or both.

You bit your lower lip and nodded at her. Hopefully you wouldn't be in trouble because of her genius plans, but again, it just made it all the more exciting.

Hermes jumped off the bed and struggled to keep the grin off her face as she glanced at the barred door. God she was so gorgeous and she didn't even brag about it.

She approached you and landed one strong hand on your shoulder, bringing her index towards her green painted lips in a shushing gesture.

"Here's what we're gonna do..."

She leaned in and explained the plan in a sweet hushed tone and you could barely concentrate on her words when she was this close to you, whispering with her overly endearing mexican accent. God, how could one be so cute and so sexy at the same time?

You tried your best to keep a straight face as she laid her evil plan out to you, but you could feel her breath hitting your lips and you had to clear your throat many times to cover the small squeals you unwillingly let out.

The more she explained, the more you could feel your face warm up. Not only because you were trying hard to not stare at her very inviting lips but also, and mostly, because of what her plan actually implied.

Hermes sure was a bold woman, but this plan would piss off the guards so much and be so incredibly funny if nicely executed, but at the same time, it was a bit, if not very, inappropriate and risky, which you got to figure out, was something she very much enjoyed.

"You sure about that, Hermes...? It's a bit... It's embarassing." You hesitated, visibly flustered but she squeezed your arm in reassurance.

"Come on! Don't be like that, it's gonna be so much fun!" She grinned at you and she knew you could hardly resist or refuse her anything. "Y/N, please? It'll be so worth it babygirl, trust me."

You gulped and nodded. Oh well, what's the worst that could possibly happen?

"A-aah!! I-... I can't do this...!"

"Ughh... Come on, bebé, just like that, yes...Yes!"

Very suggestive noises of the two cellmates echoed in the room and throughout the prison corridors. A wanton mix of grunts and whimpers and moans. What could be going on in this prison?

"I-Ah!... Aaah, no~!" You whined breathlessly and Hermes groaned right after you, accompagnying you in your, quite strange, string of sounds.

"Yes! That's it, Y/N! Do that again!"

"Hermes, I-...nnghh!! Fuck!"

"You gotta move like this Y/N! Yeah, r-right there! Aah! Perfect!"

Some guards on walking duty were passing by and stopped, alerted by the horrendous noises, easily heard by anyone nearby, and that left very little, if not nothing to the imagination.

"A-aah please! Hermes! I can't-..." You gasped, your voice leaving you, "No more..."

Hermes, motivated, encouraged you further, purring, "No, no, you're doing great babe... Hmmm...That's what I like to see... Ah yes..!"

The guards hurried up to the cell you two were dwelling in and banged loudly on the metal door in hopes to shut you up.

"What the hell is going on here?!" One guard screamed and tried to check inside the room. But you girls were hidden right against the door, underneath the frame and perfectly in the guards' blind spot.

You two stiffled a laugh and continued on whatever you were doing. Yes. The plan was coming together amazingly.

Hermes was currently showing you some 'magic tricks' with playing cards. You were of course, completely failing and clumsily dropping the cards all over the place after trying your best to swipe and hold them in a way that would make any spectator blind to your misdirection and believe the cards were disappearing in your hands.

The Mexican was surprisingly good at these card tricks, things that she learned during her childhood, but she decided to add a little... spice to your teaching session. Something that would drive the prison staff nuts. Something that would make you pass time wonderfully in this boring prison.

"I can't do this, Hermes, we... We have to stop!" You cried with a hitched breath and the dark-skinned girl shushed you.

"Shhh. Relax, Y/N. You're too tense. Curl your fingers a bit. Oh-Yeah... Just like that... Aah~... See?"

"Yo-you're too good at this..."

"Let me teach you, guapa." She rasped and you let out an exaggerated ragged moan that she had to muster all her self-control to not burst into a laughing fit. What an actress you were.

"AAAHH~!"

The other guard came in to join his partner after leaving to call for help and you two could hear them bickering over what to do. The youngest, after getting insulted way too many names, eventually walked off again to call the supervisor.

"Come here supervisor! I heard them! Those two are at it as well!"

"Those damn lesbians, I'm so fucking tired!" The first guard commented as the supervisor stomped towards your cell and grumbled.

"I swear, these fucking girls are all so horny!" The man punched at the door, almost breaking it off its hinges and making you both flinch under the door. "HEY! MOVE AWAY FROM THE FUCKING DOOR YOU SLUTS!"

You put your hands over your mouths to silence your endless snickers and hurriedly got up, getting into the supervisor's view in front of the door's barred frame and forcing straight faces out of you.

"A problem, sir?" Hermes asked as calm as ever, her smirk effectively washed off her face.

"What the FUCK were you two doing in there?!" He growled, clearly not amused and way too busy to deal with that kind of joke.

"Nothing sir. We're playing with cards. Are we not allowed to?" She feigned as she tilted her head slightly, quirking an arrogant eyebrow. She too, was quite the actress.

"Tch, you freaks, I'm coming in." The supervisor fumbled messily with the keys and unlocked the door, missing the keyhole at least three times before succeeding, opening it wide and checked you two up and down scrutinizingly.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Neither of you looked disheveled in the slightest, and there were indeed cards sprawled onto the floor and in your hands.

He let out a suspicious drawn-out grunt and squinted his eyes at you, pointing an accusing finger at you two as he slowly backed out the door.

"I got my eyes on you, Costello, L/N. Don't you fucking mess with me." He hissed before slamming the door and locked it, walking away with the other guards close behind him.

When they were all out of earshot, you two finally burst into a laughter that you had been desperately containing as you slid back against the door, holding your stomach with pain from laughing so much.

"Man, we really got them!" Hermes obnoxiously sneered and you could only laugh back, contaminated by her laughter.

"Yeah! It was genius! And the overly lewd noises too! He was so red!" You added between laughs and slapped her arm playfully.

You both continued until your laughter died down a bit. You kept giggling softly and Hermes leaned over, smirking at you.

"Well," She purred and you looked back at her with wide eyes as she slid her hand up and down your thigh sensually. "Since they won't suspect a thing now, let's just get into the real deal, you're okay with that babe?"

And just like that, she grabbed your wrist and gently pinned you to the floor, connecting your lips with hers in a hungry and wet kiss.

And indeed, they did not suspect a thing after that.

Bonus:

"So Y/N is a bottom, huh?" Jolyne sneered as you all sat together at the cafeteria at lunchtime.

You gasped and blushed and Hermes wore her favourite expression. The smug one.

"I don't know what bottom is, but if Y/N is that I guess I approve." F.F said her straw between her lips before she slurped her drink again.

"Shut up. All of you!"

To be honest I didn't know what the Mexican accent sounded like until I started hanging out with @gio-is-writing and ??? Hello? Cute? Sexy? Be mine already.