#its just hard yo be precise and make a single line

[foxyfexyll]

why i have to get sick when i have infinity drawing ideas in my head And the motivation to make them i’m like man. why must hand shakey

[thesinglesjukebox]

EXO - "LET ME IN"

From Kayla, a K-pop R&B ballad lots of us welcome in...

[5.92]

Kayla Beardslee: I love staring at the ocean. I'm the kind of person who always has some kind of distraction running through my head. I'm never completely comfortable in my own body; I'm always compulsively planning ahead for something in my mind. But I'm so small in comparison to the horizon that it makes everything go quiet. I can watch and watch and watch the waves and the view will give me almost nothing back, yet it stays in motion just enough that I don't want to look anywhere else. There's comfort in giving yourself up to that kind of all-consuming emptiness. You could maybe say the same about stargazing; the stars, though, are pretty, static points of light that inspire very theoretical daydreams. The ocean is right there on the edge of the everyday, reaching out against the shore, pulsing not with life but with the space between it, ready to grasp and swallow you down into the darkness if you lose yourself enough to give it the chance. You can look at the gray, shifting surface and easily imagine what it might feel like to drown. Or maybe you don't have to imagine. "Let Me In," EXO's first full-group track in four and a half years, is a song about helping someone who's been dragged too far down into the waves. "Vanishing into the dark, you're gone," it begins; "Struggling, but even if you sink, it's fine / Make your way to me through the waves." As the members of EXO reassure their partner that they're not alone, they sing with such precision that you can almost hold onto the syllables -- after all, they want you to not let go, to not lose hope even if the world is cast in nothing but gray and blue. This song crept up on me in the months after its release even before I decided what it was about, but one night, it clicked as a song about depression. "Gotta let me in, you're the ocean," goes the chorus. Inside you is an encroaching darkness and coldness that reaches too deep to disappear. But as the weight of the water presses down and obscures everything else in the distance, EXO's vocals cut through like a lifeline, strength and warmth emanating from their expressions of devotion ("Want to drift off in your soft embrace / If possible, hold me and let me in"). It's not that this song resonated with me because a partner helped me out of depression. I just hear the soft melody in the bridge, rising and falling in time with the waves, and for a moment everything makes sense. It isn't a promise that things are going to get better; maybe things aren't even going to be okay. "Let Me In" ends not with a grand vow to fight or change or reject these feelings -- how could one person oppose something so huge? -- but with a simple reminder that there's someone by their side ready to save them from drowning. "Fall into you, the bluest water / 'Cause you're my ocean," Chen and Baekhyun breathe out in the closing lines: no matter how deep your sadness, someone out there will understand it, willingly dive in, and not falter in their love. I don't know if it's healing or hypnosis, but while the ocean takes and takes and takes from me, I choose to also get something back. Against its vastness, every insignificant, anxious, unsure inch of me suddenly feels so much more important and real. I feel small; I feel aware of myself; I feel human. [10]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Genuinely suave in a way that most pop music simply is not. The charm is studied and practiced, but that's an argument for EXO rather than against. Effort is sexy! [7]

Michael Hong: SM Groups' Korean Singles, 2023: Memories > Spicy > ISTJ > Perfume > Fact Check > Drama > Cream Soda > Down > Let Me In > Broken Melodies > Talk Saxy > Chill Kill > Get a Guitar > Hard > Stamp on It > Hear Me Out > Ay-Yo > Golden Age > Baggy Jeans [5]

Anna Katrina Lockwood: Man, this EXO comeback was a bit of a shitshow. Between CBX's lawsuit against SM, Kai's obviously unanticipated enlistment timing, and the general clusterfuck in SM Entertainment business affairs, the vibes felt off. Nonetheless, EXO's surprisingly litigious, nearly unassailable vocal line are persistently on their game, and nowhere more so than on "Let Me In". There's not really any new way I can think to express that Chen, Baekhyun and D.O. are better singers than everyone, but I have a new appreciation for the balance the trio has, each with strengths that don't step on the others. The three thrive in this low-tension ambience, meandering amongst the vaporous pad synths, occasionally pinned down by the pleasingly erratic bassline. The other EXO who absolutely nailed this sort of thing in the past few years is of course Kai, and it's a real shame he wasn't around for promotions. It's also part of the reason that "Cream Soda", the glossier title track, felt a little flat -- it was built for Kai, and then he wasn't there. You can put Baekhyun in all the pink fur jackets you want but you ain't gonna pull the wool over my eyes! I just can't, uh, fight the feeling that EXO isn't anyone's priority these last few years, and this release didn't convince me otherwise. But "Let Me In" at the very least plays to their vocal strengths, with predictably appealing results. [7]

Tara Hillegeist: Even now, in the age of anxious, hesitant production choices, and as a result the shrinking aesthetic palette from which Korean pop stars can choose how they want their next comeback to sound, it's still a rare, deflating surprise when a single releases and the worst part in a bad way is the rap. Chanyeol's lead-laced bars kill the whole vibe like he's showing up to the dance rehearsal in cement shoes. The whole song feels sorely spent for breath after that sodden, damming shuffle of a verse, when everything else about this cry-me-a-river-along implicitly calls for a perfect stormcloud instead. [3]

Ian Mathers: What do you call it when you don't quite attain the heights of the quiet storm genre? Quiet drizzle? Luckily I love an overcast day. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: The lush keyboard and bass is lovely, but the drum programming is so bland and largely invisible; it boggles the mind as to why it's buried all the way back there. As for the boys themselves, CHEN's delicious tenor feels the most distinct, yet they all comfortably harmonize together. The rapping from Chanyoel feels staccato and jittery, Sehun lilts behind it, and Baekhyun delivers the excellent closure to the final chorus. But overall "Let Me In" feels anonymous, a warm gulp of raspberry tea that I enjoy then forget forever. [5]

Rachel Saywitz: As with most K-pop ballads that end up in my ears these days, I struggle to find what's new about this one--EXO has plenty of slower, groovier songs that I'd rather listen to. But damn, if it isn't nice hearing one of K-pop's best vocal lines again. Baekhyun, D.O., and Chen can make the drabbiest melodies sing, and they stretch and strain on a chorus that might otherwise have no heft to it. [6]

Michelle Myers: There's a faint outline of a great EXO B-side in here, and Baekhyun's vocal tone will always stir something within me. But I can't help but hear the exhaustion and resignation in their performances. It's a bummer. [5]

Brad Shoup: They croon of unfathomable depths, yet they descend on the same cloud that every pop R&B artist leases. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: It's last call at the skating rink, 10 PM at the school dance, 2000 when "This I Promise You" and "Shape of Your Heart" didn't seem like they'd be the last megahit boyband ballads for a long, long time. [6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: It's just a crazy thing to be alive, man. I think about that every time I hear a song like this, because if there is anything that has survived all of K-pop's many changes, it is this reverence for the melodramatic ballad. That in itself is a complex web. Contemporary tracks like "Let Me In" are rooted in American R&B, a fact that can be traced to Korean American trio Solid finding major success in the '90s but also to the US military's undying presence in Korea. Then there's the rhythm of the rapped verses -- I hear the conversational tone of artists like Zion.T, who only sing-rap like that because of the distance Koreans have from American rap music. And then the decorum of the chorus, how those vocals soar with tremendous belief in the power of gentleness -- you could bring up boy bands from around the world, but I hear in the Korean language a specific passion that overflows even to the English lyrics. "Gotta let me in," we hear, a suggestion that reads like a command. You want to agree because it's firm and direct and tender all at once. And really, you have to: So much of the world is fucked beyond belief, and the fact that the past 100 years of Korean pop music is the product of a nation finding their voice in the midst of imperialism and occupation, the fact that countless Korean artists and music critics are constantly interrogating what it takes for our art to "be Korean"... you want to believe that something new can happen when people come together. I think about "Morning Dew," one of the most famous protest songs in Korean music history, and how it is rooted in sadness. "Leaving all my sorrow behind," goes the final line; "I am going now." That sentiment is not so far off from the one here. "You're the ocean" is an affirmation that we're bigger than we realize, that we can go beyond a small, oppressive understanding of who we are and can be. All my favorite Korean musicians taught me that, from Seo Taiji to Shin Hae Chul to Yoon Sang, from Dalpalan to Choi Joonyong to Sumin. EXO offer much the same, and it makes me feel connected to so much Korean history in the process. What a joy. [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[tarhalindur]

Rebellion’s Biggest Outstanding Question

(Big fat PMMM+Rebellion spoilers under the cut, natch:)

Homura, at the end of Rebellion, believes that she is rebelling against Madoka’s will.  But is she actually doing so?  Or is she acting in accordance with it?

Let me explain.

I’ll start with the point I’m sold on either way (and have commented on at least twice before, including my explanation of Madoka’s other big mistake): Rebellion is directly downstream of Madoka making a single mistake immediately after her ascension in episode 12, a moment when she could not afford to make any mistake at all.  Much like Madoka’s other big mistake in episode 10, this one is not obvious on the surface and only becomes clear when looking at the events through a symbolic lens.

Specifically, a Buddhist symbolic lens.

I’ll leave the full explanation there to this post, which lays out the Buddhist influence on base PMMM’s themes and imagery and on Madokami’s ascension better than I could.  (Although its author is missing a few points.  First, the shot of Madoka expanding to galaxy size is DIRECTLY out of ego death symbolism.  Which makes sense, because there’s enough accounts to suggest that regardless of whether or not it has any deeper meaning beyond brain chemistry the people who’ve had it are describing a single class of subjective experience, and “one’s consciousness expanding to the size of the galaxy” seems to be a common feature of it - I’ve read at least one account of that kind of experience from, of all people, a random Protestant minister who claims to have had such an experience on a vision trip to the Amazon and only later realized that there was precedent for that kind of experience in Buddhist traditions, and he mentions that exact expansion as part of what he went through.  Second, the flower on Madoka’s bow is a rose, not a willow... which makes sense, because “Guanyin/Kannon and the Virgin Mary are two aspects of the same goddess” has been a theory in certain parts for at least a century, and the rose has a traditional association with the latter goddess - there’s a reason they call it the rosary, after all.  (I’ve seen speculation out of a few polytheist/less orthodox Christian circles I keep tabs on that Pistis Sophia is yet another aspect of the same goddess, too...)  Third, note all the mandala symbolism floating around - most obviously Walpurgisnacht’s appearance and Kyubey’s exposition in episode 11.)

And that influence is important here, because part of the process of the escape from samsara is the breaking of all karmic ties to the world.

Except... Madoka does not do this.  She leaves one karmic tie behind.

This one, to be precise:

Now, in theory it’s possible that the tainted miracle of Homura remembering Madoka has another root.  But I have my doubts, and the biggest piece of evidence there is the OST: the track that plays when Homura meets Junko in the finale and offers to give up the ribbons is named Taenia Memoriae, aka “the ribbon of memories”.  HMM,

(That Junko scene is in this regards the single most enigmatic scene of the main series finale to me.  My instinct is that it’s drawing off of Christian mythos again, either canonical or Gnostic, but I can’t quite place what piece; I kind of want to compare it specifically to the Denial of Peter.)

Now, there’s two other pieces here that are worth noting.

1) While Homulilly is described as the Nutcracker Witch in Rebellion, Homulilly’s name and Witch card are first revealed in the PSP game, and there she goes by a rather different epithet: Witch of the Mortal World, nature is karma.  Which is rather on the nose (the Mortal World [shigan] being another term for samsara), but then that’s probably by design - main series PMMM is not subtle at all when it wants to make a point.  And it is this epithet, not the Nutcracker Witch, that the Doppel versions of Homulilly in MagiReco draw off of, which suggests the staff considered it important.  (There’s a second distinction in the latter, because Moemura’s version of the Doppel implies that Homulilly’s nature was originally slightly different again - Witch of the Mortal World, nature is closed circuits - but I think for our purposes here this is a difference without true distinction, much like the Witch of the Near Shore pun for swimsuit!Moemura’s version of Homulilly.)  And there’s echoes of this even in Rebellion: the Clara Dolls are of course referred to as the Children of the Mortal World, plus of course the obvious “Homulilly’s Rebellion barrier as the Mortal World” take.  (Which, hmm.  Hello second-order symbolism - Homura failing to “break out of the egg” as failure to escape the cycle of samsara.)

2) The red ribbons of course suggest a very specific form of karmic tie - the Red String of Fate.  And you can be very, very sure that the staff intended that, too.  To drag a certain piece of key animation back out from storage:

While it’s hard to tell at this size, it sure looks to my eyes like the two ends are specifically tied around the girls’ pinkies.  You know, exactly where the proverbial Red String is said to be tied.

Or, to put it another way: AI YO.

Everything in Rebellion is downstream of this.

But all this is prologue.  Now that we have established the mistake, we can address the actual outstanding question: Did Madoka intend to make that mistake?  People have noted the applicability of Junko’s comments about intentionally making a big mistake when backed into a corner to Homura’s actions in Rebellion; do they also apply to the action Madoka took that led to that?

I am not sure.  Both cases are consistent, and I’d put about even odds either way.  But it’s the affirmative case I want to lay out here, to show that it does in fact exist:

- Let’s start with the one point someone else might bring up that I don’t really weight: Madoka’s final conversation with Homura in the flower bed.  This one, I think, can mostly be discarded.  We have word from both Kyubey and Sayaka that Madoka does not have her memories here; I can’t see both of them lying here.  (Also remember that Kyubey seems to have restriction that is sometimes said to apply to demons, at least under certain circumstances: he cannot directly tell a lie.  This is of course a very different thing from having to tell the truth, as episode 9 alone is enough to attest, but in this specific case it’s a boost to his credibility.)  If there’s an actual argument here, it’s a second-order one; it is possible, especially given her divine abilities, that Madokami was running a Xanatos Gambit and counting on her amnesiac projection to unwittingly relay her true feelings.  (In which case I would have to grab a certain infamous line from another well-known anime: “Just as planned”.)

- That one shot of Madokami’s gloved, scarred arm reaching down through the window to touch Homura.  Operative word scarred.  (And honestly, looking at one of the subs for that scene again Madoka’s comments there look potentially consistent with her actually supporting of or at least accepting Homura becoming a demon...)

- Mata Ashita, specifically the lyrics thereof.  With the perspective of the full series, Madoka’s character song is fairly clearly from the perspective of Madokami, and it’s suggestive that she is not entirely happy with the results of her wish and ascension.

- The fact that Rebellion happened at all.  There’s a complaint that I’ve seen regarding the mechanics of the Incubators’ plot in Rebellion: logically, by the wording of Madoka’s final wish the Incubators’ plan to use the Isolation Field to block the Law of Cycles should not work, since part of Madoka’s wish was to rewrite any rule or law that would prevent her from destroying Witches with her own hands, including the one the Incubators set up with their Isolation Field - doubly so if you take Madokami’s statement can see every world that ever existed or could ever exist and apply it to the Sealed Reality the experiment generates.  Except... there is one way that argument fails, regardless of anything else: namely, if Madoka saw what the Incubators were doing and intentionally allowed their experiment to proceed.  And at this point there is precedent for her doing something very similar; AIUI in her Magical Girl Story in MagiReco Madokami does something very similar wrt the MagiReco timeline, deliberately declining to destroy it despite its continued existence conflicting with the Law of Cycles.

(- Magia.  This point of argument I’m not convinced of either, but let’s lay it out.  (Honestly, even if I’m right I’m not sure how much of this was consciously intended, but creations can have a life of their own - especially creations where fucking natural disasters delay them so that they’re released on the most appropriate day possible!)  There’s two pieces to this, one I’m more sure of than the other:

1) The visuals.  Here’s the spot where I feel most solid about interpreting Magia: the ED visuals are clearly a reference to Madokami’s ascension.  (The show loves hiding that sort of foreshadowing in plain sight, why would you be surprised?)  Note the second half particularly, both Madoka’s hair lengthening and the starfield she’s running past.  (I think the order of the four other girls in the first half is probably how long they held out without Witching out.)  That leaves two issues, one more obvious to Western audiences and one less so.  First, that enigmatic and ominous shot of Madoka in fetal position (appropriate - her request in 10 and then her wish in 12 can be rephrased as “don’t let me grow up”) in the eye of Mephisto.  Second, there’s a point I’ve seen raised in analyses of Connect: in Japanese cinematography, motion from right to left indicates a correct course (unlike its Western equivalent, where the opposite applies)... and for the entirety of Magia Madoka is moving left-to-right.

2) The lyrics.  This is the part I’m less sold on, but once again let’s lay out the affirmative.  My line here derives from a hunch: Connect is famously from Homura’s perspective despite appearing to be from Madoka’s, perhaps the inverse is also true?  I’m still not sure there, but especially if you’re considering the TV version it can work... provided the lyrics are specifically from Madokami’s perspective again.  Grabbing the wiki version of the translation: “The light of love lit within your eyes will transcend time” sure fits better if we’re talking about Homura rather than about Madoka, likewise “with this power that can break even darkness” sure sounds like a better fit for Madokami to me.  And in that case the most interesting stanza is the second: “Swallow down your hesitation.  What is it that you wish for?  With the direction of this greedy admiration, will there be a short-lived tomorrow?”  The former two lines  are quite consistent with Homura’s decision in Rebellion (and I note the visual of Homura biting down on her Soul Gem to break it!), and “tomorrow” is consistently a reference to the possibility of Homura and Madoka meeting again in other PMMM songs (Mata Ashita again, Colorful, Connect full version) - which is realized courtesy of a greedy admiration, no less.  So.  Magia’s full version might count, too - there’s lines there that are harder to square from a Madokami perspective (”if I can move forward without hesitation then it’s fine if my heart gets broken” especially), but “Someday, for the sake of someone else, you too will wish for great power; on the night love captures your heart, unknown words will be born” fits Homura’s fall better than Madoka’s wish, I think.)

- If Madoka’s mistake in 12 is intentional then it more closely mirrors her (unintentional) mistake in 10: she’s implicitly asking Homura to once again do something she can’t and stop her from/alleviate the effects of her making a mistake.

- At a Doylist level, if they go for a proper happy end (either in Walpurgis no Kaiten or in a hypothetical sequel to the same) I’m not sure there’s any way they can get there without using this interpretation.  (In general, the two outcomes that make the most sense to me are “Akuhomu becomes the core of Walpurgisnacht, cue ending scene with Moemura making her wish” (the Logic Error ending, consistent with the Eternal Return of the Self; cue MagiReco as the way out) or an ending based on the answer to this question being yes - the easy version being a movie of everyone except Homura fighting to let Madoka rejoin the Law of Cycles only for her to surprise everyone with some sort of ending based on “actually, I was counting on her to do this from the start”.)

[quirkwizard]

Spoiled Sushi

For a while, a certain article has been vexing me. One that seems to have a great misunderstanding of the series it was writing about, missing obvious points and core parts of the worldbuilding. No, it wasn’t by CBR, nor was it by Screenrant. But it was by Cruchyroll of all places. They decided to make an article about the Top 5 Misused Quirks in My Hero Academia. It was not good and has been bugging me. So I decided to give them a taste of their own medicine. I mean they try to shut down whoever even attempts to do what they do, so why not make fun of them for trying to do what I do? Plus you guys seem to like it when I’m snarky, so this could be fun for everyone.

For clarity’s sake, this was written at the beginning of 2019, when the most recent chapter was Chapter 214 and the the anime had only reached Season 3. I’m keeping that in mind as I write. I will also be skipping around some of the parts of the article as I am talking about it. If its not worth mentioning, I won’t bring it up, simple as that. For instance, I’m skipping the intro because it is completely superfluous and would only serve to make a completely different fanbase mad. Might as well, most of what I am passing up are just dumb jokes. But if you are curious... don’t waste your time reading this. Your time is valuable and you have better things to do then read this article.

5. Kurogiri Can Create Free, Renewable Energy

“In all seriousness, though, Kurogiri is probably one of the most powerful characters in the anime, with their being virtually no limit to how far he can extend his Warp Gate portals.”

I mean there are certainly limits for his Quirk. Besides the need to know the coordinates or see where he is moving, there’s obviously a limit to how much he can spread out his body.

“Why then doesn’t he use them to create near-infinite energy? Open two portals one above another, throw in a heavy object inside and watch it fall endlessly. Devise a way to hook a dynamo or something to it and, bam, you have free power that would make Kurogiri a billionaire overnight and a hero to the entire planet.”

This idea has so many problems that I don’t even know where to begin.

One, if this could work, it likely wouldn’t make a lot of energy. Besides the various physics problems involved in this, Kurogiri would just be one guy doing this, meaning that it’s unlikely he’d be able to make enough power to matter.

Two, Kurogiri would still need rest as he is a living being, meaning he wouldn’t to keep up this theoretical contraption forever and you’d get even less energy relying on him. At most, it would work best in a small bunker as a last resort.

Three, that sounds like it would be a lot more dangerous then it would be worth for the energy made. If Kurogiri would to lose focus for a moment, the portals fall apart and there would just be a lot of damage from this heavy object moving at high speeds.

“Even if Kurogiri only cares about taking down All Might, it would still be much easier to do if he had a literal mountain of money/public goodwill at his side.”

What kind of bizzaro universe are you living in where the guy who makes energy could possibly turn public option about the very well liked Number 1 Hero that saves lives every day? That’s literally what Lex Luthor does and people hate him for it.

4. Koji Koda Could Help Feed Billions Of People

“Koji is the resident Class 1-A stoner (get it? he's made of rock? come on) with the power to control ANY creature in the animal kingdom. This would logically also include spiders, meaning that Koji could literally end all street crime in, like, 5 minutes tops by swallowing all the criminals up in a giant arachno-tsunami.”

While this article is infuriating in many ways, it did give us the mental image of an “arachno-tsunami”. Which is totally worth sitting through this jumbled mess of words and ignorance.

“But, you see, Koji is just too shy and nice to be an effective hero. He wants to do good but he just doesn’t have that fighter instinct in him. Which is why he should instead use his Anivoice Quirk to revolutionize agriculture all around the world.”

You can be an effective hero and not beat people up. Sure, it certainly can come up in the job description, but that isn’t all of what a hero is meant to do. Koda’s Quirk makes him great at information gathering and rescue work, two very important aspects of hero work that suit his personality perfectly.

“Give him a megaphone and fly him over American fields, telling feral pigs to stop causing $1.5 billion worth of damage a year in destroyed crops. Fly him to Australia to tell the invasive cane toads and rabbits to kindly lemming themselves off a cliff. Have him tell the aggressive lionfish the get the hell out of the Atlantic. FORCE HIM TO GET OVER HIS FEAR OF BUGS AND MAKE AGRICULTURAL PESTS A THING OF THE PAST. “

There is no possible way Koda could be everywhere at once to pull that off. And considering that the average human voice can only carry for about a mile, IE, about the average size of a single farm. You know, because animals need to hear his voice in order to receive his commands. So even if it was limited to a single farm, its unlikely to do much to help. But by far the biggest issue with this entire plan is that what Koda does to an animal is not permanent. The second his control is interrupted, the animals return to normal, bound to just go back to whatever they were doing before. 

So if Koda tries to change anything, its just going to end up undone by the time he leaves, just delaying the inevitable problem that comes from these animals. So even if Koda told the pigs to go away, they’d likely be back by the next day, destroying farmland like nothing happened. Even then, because of the previous limitations, he’d still have to go farm by farm to pull it off. That’s not even mentioning all of the other suggestions. Honestly, if you wanted to do something with Quirk, you should just convince all the animals to line up during hunting season. Dark, yes, but it least it would offer a more permanent solution then what the writer is suggesting.

“If Koji was utilized properly, he could travel the world undoing mankind’s mistakes and creating organic, pesticide-free crops instead of doing what he does now, which is largely sitting around on his ass roleplaying Snow White.”

Which, in spite of many fans joking about his Quirk, has shown to be very helpful quite a few times.

3. Inko Midoriya Would Have Made A Great Nurse

“Izuku’s mother in My Hero Academia has mainly done two things so far: jack and squat.”

I mean she did design Izuku’s costume, even if it got replaced, its is still a corner stone of his design, and she offered a good amount of drama after the fight with All Might and All For One. 

“She did try to be a good mother but kind of failed at that when she tearfully apologized to her son because he was born without a Quirk, essentially telling him: “I’m so sorry I gave birth to such a loser.””

Would you believe that this one line was what really prompted me to talk about this? Because that is probably one of the worst takes I have ever in relation to this series. If you honestly believed that is what Inko was doing, the woman who practically raised her child by herself and constantly talks about much she cares for him, you must be watching the wrong series. That’s the only way I could explain why that is.

“So, she doesn’t really have much going on in her life. That’s why she should try nursing instead. I realize that becoming a nurse takes a lot of hard work and dedication, but Inko would be a natural fit for it. Despite her initial shortcomings, she is a very caring person with loads of empathy.” 

Inko’s empathic? Could have fooled me. I mean she did feel the need to apologize to her son for giving birth to a loser. No, I am not over that, how could you have possibly gotten that from the scene?!

“She also has the power of limited telekinesis. Inko can move small objects over short distances, and while that would not be helpful for stopping crime, it would be great for, say, removing kidney stones. Or things stuck in people’s throats. Or coins from children’s stomachs.”

Trying to use a Quirk like this in any kind of medical procedure is laughable at best and dangerous at worst. Imagine if Inko had to remove a bullet from someone. From what we see, the process of her moving objects is slow and need several pulls from her to attract the object to her. So if she’s going to try to pull it out and its going to get caught on something, causing more damage to the person she is trying to save. She’s basically going to be keying the insides of whoever she is trying to operate on.

The entire reasons doctors, especially surgeons, train for so long is because the human body can be extremely delicate. It needs a lot of care and time so the doctors don’t make things worse for the patients. It’s why surgeons need to have such steady hands and a lot of time even to due minor procedures. But trying to do that with a Quirk is just going to cause more problems then it can solve. Doing that with a Quirk like Inko’s just lacks a lot of the precision and dexterity necessary to pull this off.

2. Uraraka Should Go Work For A Shipping Company

“Ochaco Uraraka has one of the most well-rounded Quirks out of all the main characters: Zero Gravity. With it, she can make objects and people float, which is great for offense, defense, and rescue operations. As a superheroine, she is doing everything right with her Quirk.”

I mean “Zero Gravity” can kind of be used offensively, but not effectively as other Quirks. Its why she did all of that training with Gun Head to make up for her lack of an offensive presence. Eh, two of three ain’t bad. I’ll take what I can get.

“I just think Uraraka should never have become a superheroine in the first place. Uraraka has actually always been honest about her motivation: she wants dem YEN YEN BILLS YO (for her struggling family.)”

That’s because hero work is an extremely frugal business even super minor heroes can still seem to make a decent living out of it.

“But regular jobs also exist in that world, and that must include shipping companies that would instantly hire Uraraka to Zero-G their freighters, trucks, and planes. Even if she cannot make them float, she can still remove enough gravity from them to save the company tons of fuel. Company profit margins are razor thin.”

First off, its mentioned several times that if you want to use a Quirk for a job, you need to have a hero license. Its to make sure you know how to use your Quirk properly so you don’t end up hurting someone with your powers. So for her to even try this, she needs to go through hero school anyway. Might as well get the most out of it. Second, Uraraka cannot lower the gravity of her target. Either the object is floating or it isn’t floating. There is no in between for Uraraka. 

Third, given what we’ve seen from Uraraka, there is no possible way that she could ever lift that much. She’s barely able to lift three lower numbered robots and that was only for a few seconds. So, at the most, she can lift a few tons. How exactly do you expect her to work with something like a cargo plane, which, on its own, can weight over forty five tons, not including fuel or any extra cargo?

Which is another thing I noticed throughout the article: the writer seems to severely overestimate how effective Quirks actually are. The range and scope of Quirks is much smaller then other power systems, even when compared to similar “low level” series like HunterxHunter. Like every kind of application listed goes far beyond what most Quirks are capable of, such as forgetting certain drawbacks. And that is most notable with the last suggestion.

1. Momo Could Solve Literally All The World’s Problems

I bet Kohei Horikoshi was really proud of himself when he came up with Momo Yaoyorozu’s design: No, see, she HAS to dress scantily because her Quirk is Creation, i.e. the ability to create any object she wants through her skin, which must be constantly exposed. Peachy.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without beating that long dead horse. What’s next? Bakugou angry? Izuku cry? 

“Momo can apparently create anything as long as she understands its composition, and seeing as she’s made an ethanol spray can, infrared goggles, a lighter, and a tracker, it seems like there’s nothing she cannot make.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without a grievous misunderstanding of how her Quirk works either. Maybe they are in the fandom. As I have mentioned in my Momo Misconceptions post, Momo needs fat to make what she does. She’s not an alchemist where she can just clap her hands and make whatever she wants. If she doesn’t have enough fat, she cannot make items. By those very rules, some things are just out of her reach because it would just take too much fat. It’s why she limits herself to simpler items.

“Cool. MAKE US SOME HELIUM THEN. The world is running out of the gas and we need it for MRI scanners and the like. Momo could make more of it.”

Actually, we don’t even know for sure if Momo is capable of making gases. All we have seen her make is solids and a few liquids. There is the lighter she made, but that could easily run on lighter fluid.

“Or thorium. She could make thorium that we could use to make thorium-based reactors that are apparently way safer than uranium ones.”

Thorium isn’t even that rare, just as about as common as lead and three times as common as uranium. Even if it was a problem, it would likely kill her, either from burning through all of her fat or from the exposure to radiation.

“Medicine, fresh water, cheap electronics that we could send to developing countries: Momo could crank all of those out in an afternoon.“

Yes, in theory, Momo could do that, but not the extent that she would make a major difference in the world like they are suggesting. There are just more practical and better long term solutions then trying to force a single person to do all of that. It’s almost as if Momo is a regular human being who has limitations you need to keep in mind when making these ill informed suggestions.

“And while spending your life as a walking Everything Faucet might not seem that glamorous, it actually has the potential to change the entire planet for the better.”

Given the kind of set up and effort that would be required to even attempt that, I think “horrific” would be a more appropriate descriptor since it would be done to a living, thinking person.

Honestly, I think that most of these people are doing more with their Quirks now then with any of these suggestions. At least, when you actually think about the rules and limits of the characters. Sure, Inko isn’t doing much, but she is a civilian with a fairly weak Quirk. Kurogiri acts as a major player within the League, getting them around quickly and evading capture. I mean he is using his power to help out a bunch of villains, but my point still stands that he is not “misusing” his Quirk.

In fact, a majority of the people on this list are doing more to help people and save lives by being heroes. Given the limitations of their abilities, using them to stop superpowered criminals who risking damaging the people around and helping victims of these crimes is doing then any of those roles in spite of the fact that the article tries its best to downplay that these people are already saving lives. So, in reality, they are doing far more to help people then doing any of these ideas, you damp sock of a writer.

[obtusemedia]

Ranking Lady Gaga's albums, from worst to best

Being a Lady Gaga fan can be an exercise in frustration.

Gaga is far more ambitious than most popstars — I doubt we’ll ever see Ariana Grande or Ed Sheeran make an album as left-field as Born This Way or ARTPOP. But she's also far less consistent, with numerous misbegotten projects.

Gaga's undeniably successful, with five #1 hits, an Oscar and multiple iconic music videos to her name. But her messy album rollouts and tradition of underperforming lead singles make her feel like an underdog compared to the more polished, precise careers of her contemporaries like Taylor Swift, Beyoncé or Bruno Mars.

Gaga is kind of a mess. But she's our mess. This album ranking will cover some records I can't stand — albums that make me constantly hit the fast-forward button, or albums I ignore altogether. But there isn't a single record on here that wasn't a bold move. Even the "back to basics" albums made strong aesthetic choices.

So let's dive into the career of the most fascinating Millennial popstar.

#8: Cheek To Cheek (2014)

This really shouldn't count. It's a Lady Gaga album in name only. But, technically it's a Gaga album, so here we are.

I've got nothing against Gaga having fun playing Rat Pack-era dress-up with Tony Bennett. She's a theatre kid at heart, and I'm sure every theatre kid would kill to make a Great American Songbook covers record like this. It sounds like she and Tony enjoyed themselves, so I'm happy for them!

...but I'm sorry. I can't be objective about Cheek To Cheek, it's the opposite of my taste. There's only so many bland lounge ballads I can take.

BEST SONGS: I have to pick one? "Anything Goes" is cute, I guess.

WORST SONG: "Sophisticated Lady"

#7: A Star Is Born (2018)

Let me first make this clear — A Star Is Born, the movie starring Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga? It's a masterpiece. It's electrifying and tragic and I'm still upset it didn't sweep the Oscars that year. There's even a cute dog! You won't hear me say a bad word about it.

But A Star Is Born, the accompanying soundtrack? It's extremely hit-and-miss.

Yes, it includes arguably Gaga's best-ever song and one of the greatest movie hits ever written, "Shallow." And there's plenty of other great tunes in the tracklist too — "Always Remember Us This Way," "I'll Never Love Again," the "La Vie En Rose" cover.

Even the country-rock songs from Bradley Cooper (who, reminder, is not a professional singer) are mostly good! "Black Eyes" RIPS, and "Maybe It's Time" feels like a long-lost classic.

But sadly, there are so many mediocre filler tracks on this thing. The second half of A Star Is Born's hour-plus runtime (Gaga's longest!) is padded with generic songs like "Look What I've Found," "Heal Me" and "I Don't Know What Love Is." The only good one out of the bunch is the silly, intentionally-bad "Why Did You Do That?"

In the movie, these filler tracks serve a point – they're meant to show Gaga's character selling out. They work in the movie when you hear them for a few seconds and see Cooper make a drunkly disappointed scowl. But I don't want to listen to them, and sadly, they make up half the album.

In other words — A Star Is Born would've made an incredible six or seven-song EP. But as an 63-minute-long record? It's a slog.

BEST SONGS: "Shallow", "Always Remember Us This Way," "Maybe It's Time"

WORST SONG: "Heal Me"

#6: Joanne (2016)

After Born This Way and ARTPOP, I get why Gaga needed to make a more lowkey, back-to-basics album. I also understand that many of these songs have extremely personal lyrics for her.

But is a down-to-earth album what I really want from our most outré popstar? Not really.

Luckily, Joanne is better than that description suggests. Yes, there are some bland acoustic ballads and awkward hippie-era throwbacks (two styles that are really not in Gaga's wheelhouse), but there's also some Springsteen-style heartland rockers! And those go hard in the paint.

Joanne works best when Gaga works the record's dusty aesthetics into her brand of weirdo pop, like on the sizzling "John Wayne," the winking "A-YO" or the delightfully extra Florence Welch duet "Hey Girl."

The record also has "Perfect Illusion" — a glorious red herring of a lead single that sounds nothing like anything else on Joanne. It's a roided-up mixture of woozy Tame Impala production and hair metal histrionics, and it rules. It might be Gaga's best-ever lead single! (at the very least, it's her most underrated.)

And there is one slow tune that's unambiguously great: "Million Reasons," another solid Gaga lighters-in-the-air power ballad pastiche.

Despite what some Little Monsters may tell you, Joanne isn't a disaster. There's some great stuff in there, and even the worst songs are just forgettable. But it's still far from her best.

BEST SONGS: "Perfect Illusion," "Diamond Heart," "Million Reasons"

WORST SONG: "Come To Mama"

#5: Chromatica (2020)

When Chromatica was released near the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, it had been seven years since Gaga had released music in her classic gonzo-synthpop vein. I can easily picture the record serving as an "ugh fine, I'll give you what you want" response to the many Little Monsters annoyed with Gaga's half-decade of folksy ballads and Julie Andrews cosplay.

I'll say this about Chromatica — outside of The Fame Monster, it's her most consistent record. There's not a single track that's a glaring mistake. And the three singles — "Stupid Love," "911" and the triumphant Ariana Grande duet "Rain On Me" — easily stand among her best tracks.

But although "all bangers, no ballads" album sounds rad in theory, it doesn't really succeed in practice. Chromatica is solid, but it's also a very same-y record. It feels like Gaga had one really great idea for the album ('90s club music with super-depressing lyrics) and repeated it over and over and over again to diminishing results.

There are some songs that are able to separate themselves: the three singles, of course, as well as the goofy "Babylon" and "Sine From Above," the Elton John duet that's the closest Chromatica gets to a ballad. But by the end of the album, you feel more worn out than electrified.

Also — and this is probably unfair, but still — Chromatica came out just a couple months after another retro-dance blockbuster pop album: Dua Lipa's magnum opus, Future Nostalgia. That's not a flattering comparison.

BEST SONGS: "Rain On Me," "Stupid Love," "911"

WORST SONG: "1000 Doves"

#4: The Fame (2008)

Out of all of Gaga's records, The Fame is most like a time capsule. It REEKS of late '00s/early '10s pop — which isn't an entirely fair criticism, seeing as Gaga popularized that era's sleazy, synthy aesthetic. It's also not a bad thing! I don't mind a little nostalgia!

As you already know, The Fame's singles are masterworks. "Just Dance," "Poker Face," "Paparazzi" — these tracks have titanic legacies for good reason. And although it's probably the least-beloved of this album's hits, despite being a total banger, "LoveGame" should still be commended for having arguably the most Gaga lyric ever (you know, the "disco stick" line).

And even though those tracks are front-loaded on The Fame, there are some gems deeper in the tracklist. "Summerboy" is basically Gwen Stefani covering The Strokes (so obviously, it's great). "Eh, Eh" is adorable. "Starstruck" is the most 2008 song ever recorded, with aggressive Auto-Tune and Flo Rida showing up to make Starbucks jokes.

Sadly, The Fame still feels like Gaga before she became fully-formed at certain points. The back half has a number of songs that feel like generic club tracks forced by the label, and "Paper Gangsta" is one of the clunkiest songs in Gaga's catalogue.

But at the very least, the bad songs on The Fame at least serve as little nostalgia bombs for that era of pop. And the best songs are untouchable classics.

BEST SONGS: "Paparazzi," "Just Dance," "Summerboy"

WORST SONG: "Paper Gangsta"

#3: ARTPOP (2013)

For much of Gaga's career, she's been ahead of the curve. She tries something, and a year or a few years later, other popstars try something similar to diminishing results.

That doesn't just apply to the successful stuff, like Gaga's extravagant music videos inspiring many copycats from 2010-2013. It also applies to the mid-late '10s trend of legacy popstars making a controversial record with risky aesthetic or lyrical choices that backfired: reputation. Witness. Man of The Woods.

Gaga did this first, with ARTPOP — arguably the most abrasive, and bizzare major label album released by a major modern popstar. And she did it better, because unlike Swift, Perry and Timberlake, Gaga's weirdness was for real. And it was in service of some prime, hyper-aggressive bangers.

ARTPOP isn't Gaga's best work — some of her experiments on it are major misfires, from the obnoxious "Mary Jane Holland" to the bland Born This Way leftover (and Romani slur-utilizing) "Gypsy."

But when ARTPOP is on, it's ON. The opening stretch in particular, from "Aura" to "Venus" to "G.U.Y." to "Sexxx Dreams," is chaotic synthpop at its finest. Those songs took Gaga's classic sound to an apocalyptic, demented extreme, and they're fantastic.

"MANiCURE" is a great glam-rock banger, "Dope" is another classic Gaga piano ballad, the title track is some sikly-smooth dreampop; even the misguided, clunky trap anthem "Jewels N' Drugs" is bad in a hilarious, charming way!

Trust me: ARTPOP will go down in history not as a flop, but as a gutsy, underrated record from a legend. Less Witness, more In Utero.

BEST SONGS: "G.U.Y.," "Venus," "Sexxx Dreams"

WORST SONG: "Gypsy"

#2: The Fame Monster (2009)

Objectively speaking, this is probably the best Gaga album.

It's her one record with no fluff, no filler — only 34 minutes and 8 tracks, all of them stellar.

It's the record that took Gaga from "wow, this new woman is a fresh new face in pop!" to "this woman IS pop."

It's the record with her signature track, "Bad Romance," which was accompanied by arguably the greatest music video of the 21st Century. (It also has my absolute favorite Gaga track, the relentlessly catchy "Telephone.")

I don't think I need to explain what makes mega-smashes "Bad Romance" and "Telephone" and "Alejandro" great, nor the accompanying legendary deep cuts "Speechless" and "Dance In The Dark." They speak for themselves.

However — the sleek, calculated perfection of The Fame Monster, while incredible, isn't something I return to often. It's just not the side of Gaga that's my favorite. That honor would have to go to...

BEST SONGS: "Telephone," "Dance In The Dark," "Bad Romance"

WORST SONG: "So Happy I Could Die" (but it's still pretty solid)

#1: Born This Way (2011)

One of my favorite podcasts is Blank Check. The concept of the show is to analyze each movie by a famous director — in particular, those who had big success early on and then got a blank check to make whatever crazy passion project they wanted. Here's a great example: because Batman was a massive hit, Tim Burton got to make whatever Hot Topic-core movies he wanted to for decades, from Edward Scissorhands to a creepy Willy Wonka remake.

That long-winded tangent is just to say: Born This Way was Lady Gaga's blank check. By early 2011, she had conquered the pop universe, notching hit after hit after hit. Every other pop star was copying her quirky music videos. So the label let Gaga do whatever she wanted — and she didn't waste that opportunity.

Born This Way is wildly overproduced. It's both extremely trend-chasing (those synths were cutting edge at the time but charmingly dated now), but also deeply uncaring about what the teens want (I don't think Springsteen and Queen homages were big at the time). And I love every messy, overblown second of it.

From the hair-metal/synthpop hybrid opener "Marry The Night" to the majestic '80s power ballad "The Edge of Glory," Born This Way starts at an 11. And Gaga never takes her foot off the pedal for the album's entire hour-plus run time. Clanging electric guitars, thunderous synths and Clarence Clemons (!!!) sax solos collide into each other as Gaga champions every misfit and loser in the world. It's gloriously corny in the best way possible.

Born This Way is also the perfect middle ground of pop-savvy Gaga and gonzo Gaga. It doesn't go quite as hard as ARTPOP, but the hooks are stronger. And the oddball moments are tons of fun, from the sci-fi biker anthem "Highway Unicorn" to the goofy presidential-sex banger "Government Hooker" ("Put your hands on me/John F. Kennedy" might be the greatest line in pop history).

Born This Way will always be my favorite Gaga album. It's armed with nuclear-grade hooks, slamming beats, and soaring anthems. Although it's not as untouchably pristine as the Mt. Rushmore of '10s pop classics (for the record, that's 1989, EMOTION, Lemonade and, of course, Melodrama), Gaga isn't best served by meticulousness. She's proudly tacky and histrionic, and so that's what makes Born This Way an utter joy.

BEST SONGS: "The Edge of Glory," "You and I," "Marry The Night"

WORST SONG: "Bloody Mary"

[lady-divine-writes]

Ineffable Holiday 2020 - “Anathema’s Solid Right Arm” (Rated PG)

Summary: Anathema takes it upon herself to bring together two customers she knows have a crush on one another ... drastically, if necessary. (1694 words)

Notes: I had started writing this for @ineffablehusbandsweek prompt coffeeshop au, but I never got it done. So I have written it for the Ineffable Holiday 2020 Day 2 prompt 'hot cocoa/cider'. Human au. Mainly fluff.

Read on AO3.

“So, Mr. Crowley,” Anathema says, eagerly setting her cocoa and her apple cider muffin on the iron bistro table out front of her shop, right by the door where she can keep track of customers going in and out, “is he here yet?”

“Who?” her reluctant companion, who’d been there first, nursing his mug of coffee while he eyed the people walking by, asks.

“Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Pfft. Who says I’m playin’?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. The man in the cream-colored coat who comes here every day at 2 o’clock for a cup of Earl Grey and a blueberry scone. The one you’ve been mooning over for weeks and weeks but refuse to say two words to.”

Crowley spots a gentleman who fits that exact bill weeding through the crowd. But by the time he reaches the coffee shop, it’s obviously not him, and Crowley groans. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“This is my shop, and you're a customer here, so I think that gives me exclusive bothering rights.”

“I liked you better when all you did was read books behind the counter and ignore the rest of us.”

“Lucky for you, you’re much more interesting than a book.”

“Lucky me,” Crowley grumbles in a put-upon voice.

Crowley isn’t exactly a friend of hers, but he is one of her best customers. He shows up every afternoon without fail at precisely 1:30 and orders the same thing each time - black coffee and the muffin of the day (which he never eats). Anathema had thought he chose her spot over other, more commercial coffee enterprises because of her homey atmosphere and signature, in-house roasted Arabica blends. Many of her customers (an older set among the locals) do. 

Turns out, he stopped by every day because of another daily customer of hers - a pleasant, older man with fluffy white-blond hair, and a positively glowing smile, the kind that can be described as lighting up a room. Anathema has watched the two of them religiously. To this day, Crowley has never once spoken to the man, and the man (Aziraphale is the name he gives when he orders) has made no move to speak to him either. And as it’s already nearing 2:15 with no sign of him, it seems today won’t be the day Crowley gets his chance. 

Which explains his sour mood.

Anathema watches Crowley pull apart his muffin with one hand while he searches the stream of pedestrians, not paying an ounce of attention to the fact that he’s decimating it, crumbs falling through the scrollwork on the tabletop and attracting birds from all around. 

Anathema feels for the man. She really does. She’s watched the evolution of him from the first day he walked into her shop: cocky, condescending, constantly criticizing everything from the smell of the place to the decor. But he’s softened considerably since Aziraphale, almost become a whole different person. 

There are some things about him that have not budged. He still dresses like a wealthy undertaker, sporting a pair of dark sunglasses whether it’s dreary out or fine. Both style choices make him the yin to Aziraphale’s yang seeing as Aziraphale only dresses in tones of lightest cream and pale, sky blue.

Anathem has become invested in whether or not these two end up together. There's no better time than the present. 

Christmas time.

Which Anathema considers the most romantic season of the year

(Stuff Valentine's!)

If Crowley isn’t brave enough to make the first move, and Aziraphale (whom she thought she caught more than once peeking surreptitiously Crowley’s way) won’t, then she needs to make this happen. 

Starting today, if possible.

But what if he found a different coffee shop to go to? 

What if he had been waiting for Crowley to say something and mistook his silence for disinterest?

How tragic would it be for these two to end up star-crossed!

Nope! Not on her watch!

She straightens up and peeks around at the customers enjoying their beverages on this blustery day, then beyond the dining patio to the holiday shoppers hopping from store to store. It’s easy to mistake many an older gentleman for the object of Crowley’s affections, but easier to spot him out the moment he arrives, threading through passersby like a salmon traveling upstream, offering everyone he meets a smile, a nod, and an, “Excuse me! I’m very sorry! I must get through!” 

“Look!" Anathema cheers. "Mr. Crowley! There he is!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Crowley says, but she sees the slightest twitch of a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he waits for Aziraphale to blow by him into the shop for his daily fare.

Except, he doesn’t. 

It doesn’t look like he’s stopping at all, hurrying through the crowd to continue down the street.

Crowley's twitchy smile withers. Anathema’s jaw drops as she stares at Aziraphale’s back while he walks on. In her peripheral, she sees Crowley’s head bow, his lips tightening into the thinnest of lines as he sinks slowly into his mug of freezing cold cider.

And that's that.

She has to do something! If she doesn’t, Crowley is going to be miserable for the remainder of the afternoon. Grumpy and alone, he'll stay out here well into supper and, in turn, will make her miserable.

She can’t have that.

But she doesn't know how to fix things. She can’t chase after the man. He has a considerable head start. Plus, with the crowd between them, she’s not sure she'll reach him before he gets away. 

She doesn’t know what on Earth possesses her. 

She grabs up the picked apart remains of Crowley’s muffin and, without another thought, hurls it with all her might. She thought she aimed low enough to tag Aziraphale’s shoulder, or brush his arm, but obviously not when she hits the poor man square on the cheek.

Anathema throws her hands over her mouth and gasps.

Crowley launches swiftly to his feet.

Aziraphale stops walking.

“What on Earth!?” Aziraphale mutters, pivoting quickly on his heel and looking over at them in surprise. But he doesn’t see Anathema at all. The second the muffin hits its mark, she says, "Good luck!" and bolts inside the shop, leaving her red-faced companion staring, mouth agape, at the man glaring back with a cheek covered in mascarpone cheese filling.

Aziraphale must recognize the culprit is Crowley because his demeanor changes. He smiles bashfully, feeling his pockets for a handkerchief, but his eyes never leave Crowley's face.

Silently, and from her hiding place just inside, Anathema cheers.

She knew it! She just knew it! 

After a few awkward seconds of searching, Aziraphale still can't seem to find it, and Crowley, realizing that this is the chance he's been waiting for, hurries to the rescue. 

On the brief saunter over, he debates the best opening line for this situation. Hello is first on the list. Hi sounds a bit too casual. Yo pops up to make a short appearance but is brutally beaten to death. What ends up coming out of Crowley's mouth, not even a contender, is, “Here,” as he thrusts a black handkerchief Aziraphale's way.

“Oh!" Aziraphale accepts it gratefully. "Thank you so much, my dear."

"Crowley," Crowley corrects, biting his tongue hard after because what did he have against this man calling him my dear? Not a single, Goddammed thing!

"Aziraphale," Aziraphale offers. "Uh … was that your muffin?”

“No! I mean, ngk … yes, it was. But someone tossed it … I suppose?” Crowley looks over at Anathema, who has the gall to spy on them through her front window, smiling like anything and making, what he can only describe as, encouraging hand motions.

“What kind was it?”

“The muffin of the day - apple cider, filled with …”

“Mascarpone cheese, yes," Aziraphale finishes with a frown. "Was it tasty, at least?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. Didn’t get a nibble of it.”

“Pity.” Aziraphale side-eyes Crowley as he watches him wipe the remaining cheese off his cheek. “Thank you for this,” he says, gesturing with the handkerchief. “I’ll get it cleaned for you.”

“Keep it. This way you have an extra, just in case. You never know when some rogue baker might throw a muffin at you again. Or a doughnut.”

“True. A jam-filled would ruin this coat. It’s one of my favorites, too.”

“Is it?" Crowley steps back, gives the garment a casual once over as if he doesn't have the thing memorized - every line from shoulder to hem, the position of the pockets, the lay of the lapels. "It suits you.”

“Thank you," Aziraphale says, self-consciously tugging at the seams, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. 

The two men fall silent. Anathema, palms pressed against the glass, starts dramatically mouthing, "Do something! One of you! Do something!"

Neither of them sees her, but Aziraphale says, "Now I’m curious.”

“About what?”

“I’ve never had one of the specialty muffins. Creature of habit, I’m afraid. Always order the same thing.”

“I think she has one left if you’d like to give it a go.”

Aziraphale bites his lower lip, his cheeks turning a fetching shade of rose. “Do you think … would you mind splitting it with me? Then we can both satisfy our curiosities.”

That last part sounds like an invitation to more than sharing a muffin, and Crowley, admittedly dense to those sorts of flirtations, is determined not to let it pass him by.

“That sounds like a brilliant idea.”

Anathema beams when she sees Aziraphale and Crowley heading her way, flashing them a double thumbs-up that only Crowley catches. Crowley rolls his eyes. Aziraphale looks in time to see the top of her head drop below the sill, another unfortunate chair upturning behind her. “Is that the young lady who runs the shop?” he asks, pointing at Anathema's bun bobbing away from the window towards the counter.

“I believe it is,” Crowley says dismissively.

“Is she quite all right?”

“No.” Crowley sets the chairs right at the small table and offers one to Aziraphale. “Not in the slightest.”

[eye-raq]

Happy Holidays Brielle

ERIK STEVENS SMUTTY CHRISTMAS FANFICTION.

Hey guys!! This is going to be a little series with some holiday cheer along with some holiday lovin’.

Summary: it’s the annual entrepreneurial Christmas party in NYC. Brielle Johnson attended every year. Erik Stevens the playboy multimillionaire attended as well.

“Take me to that hotel suite you got so we can finish this juicy convo more privately.”

Which translated in her head as take me to that hotel suite so I can fuck your brains out.

She let out a flustered breath.

“No.”

“No? Is that a serious no?”

Yes, it is.”

She drank some of her spiked eggnog, licking the foam from her lips.

“Damn, you really know how to diss a nigga. I just wanna taste it. I wanna see what little miss Chocolate princess with curls got to offer.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“How about we make that a reality?”

She let out a laugh, looking down at her nails, inspecting them.

“Why don’t you go find some easy girl to do you, like Charlotte Cruise.”

“Well, what if I’m tired of easy girls? What if I like the chase, considering it’ll end up being worth it.”

Oh, he was good. And persistent. And bold. And confident.

“I’ll tell you what...give me about, infinity years to think about it.” Really? That was her response.

“So forever then? I can wait...I can wait.”

He took a swig of his spiked hot cocoa, licking his lips afterward, those dimples deep from the action.

“Sure you can. We’re not immortal sir, so by then we would be nonexistent.”

“I’m impossible to kill. You ain’t know that shit? They didn’t nickname me Killmonger for nothing.”

“Killmonger huh?” She was intrigued.

“What makes someone end up with the nickname Killmonger?”

He smiled that charming smile, the black turtleneck giving him a professor look and the black Malcolm X frames made it just perfect.

“Well, when you kill thousands of people with precision like I did, that’s the nickname you get.”

The contents of her eggnog sloshed over the rim of her mug from the shock that hit her.

“You killed people…”

“yeah, when I was a Seal.”

She relaxed some. Jesus, she thought this man was an assassin.

“And when I was apart of the JSOC ghost unit.”

She took that back.

“Woah...yeah you’re definitely bad news.”

She went to get up, and to her shock, he didn’t stop her. He looked a little hurt actually.

The usual bold guy that she saw at these business affairs, torn up by her response.

“Shit Erik…”

She seated herself.

“I’m sorry. I’m just, not used to someone boldly telling me they took the lives of many, not just as a Navy Seal but also as an Assassin.”

“Mercenary.”

“So? It’s not different.”

“And I’m not used to some rude shit like this from a person I thought I could relate to. I expected that from those colonizers who don’t give a fuck about our people.”

She really hit a nerve.

“Well, maybe if you had a better approach at introducing the fact that you’ve killed people, then I wouldn’t have responded the way I did.”

He chuckled to himself to calm his overgrowing nerves.

“Regardless of what, you would have responded the exact same way girl.”

“That’s not true.”

“LIE AGAIN.”

Everything went quiet between them both. She couldn’t lie, she might have...she wasn’t tolerable of a lot of things especially that for one.

“Okay, you got me. I would have gotten up to leave.”

He grazed the inside of his mouth with his tongue, his teeth crashing painfully with his bottom lip.

“Wow. If you’d of said that to me I wouldn’t have gotten up to leave.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Would that be before or after I killed you? Can you blame me, Erik? That’s not some shit somebody can just deal with.”

“Nah, I can’t blame you. But I’m glad I didn’t stick my dick in you.”

“Oh, so that’s the approach. Your salty because I don’t wanna give up my goodies willingly, no matter how good you look. Then you’re even saltier because I’m being honest about how I feel about you murdering people.”

She made a sour look, grabbing up her clutch to leave once again.

“So fucking spiteful for what? All a nigga tried to do was get to know you. It’s not like I haven’t before all those times I’ve seen you, Brielle. How long have we known each other? Two years? This Christmas party? That yacht club shit those couple of springs? Rooftop parties that Jason through when I was in town?”

“I’m not spiteful Erik. Just admit that you're angry because I don’t wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, you don’t know me very well.”

Erik stood himself, picking up his Calvin Klein solid wool overcoat.

“I’m a multimillionaire, Co-owner for the Wakandan Outreach Centers around the world. I could have any women I wanted Brie, and that’s not to brag, you don’t need to brag when it’s the truth. So for me to waste my time to get to know you further, means that I really wanna pursue you.”

He picked up his wool hat to match, turning to wave goodbye to the other black business owners at the annual entrepreneurial Christmas party.

“How amazing, Erik Stevens the womanizer. That’s really impressive. I would have definitely opened my legs for you.”

Brielle picked up her cream-colored faux fur coat that traveled all the way to her ankles, the silence between them as the low sound of Santa baby played out in jazz.

They both looked up in time to see a mistletoe hanging between them. It smelled like spiced pine cones and the beautiful gold and wine red colors clashed perfectly.

Erik raised a single brow, lips set in a hard line, before downcasting his eyes onto Brielle.

“Would you look at that? A mistletoe.”

Erik leaned in towards her, pausing, then turning to whisper in her ear.

“Happy Holidays Brielle.���

With that, Erik swept past her swiftly, pushing at the revolving doors with his exit. Brielle stood still with her gold clutch in her hand, trying to gain composure before removing her coat again, seating herself at the bar.

She needed a stiff drink, and that was a year ago.

___________________________________________

“Mmmm, back that fucking ass up on this dick….

Arch yo shit, you know how I like it”

It was November 30th, just one day before the annual entrepreneurial Christmas party. Erik Stevens was a little preoccupied with his assistant Kelis, pounding her tight wet pussy from behind.

She was so fucking tight and wet, her bubble booty clapping against his skin with force.

“Oh shit, right there Erik!” She frantically pulled at the blanket on his king sized bed within his hotel suite, the edges lifting and coming undone.

Erik reaches down mid-fuck to stroke her clit, his other hand in the middle of her back to keep her arch.

“You disrespectful. I told you to keep that fucking arch didn’t I?”

“It’s too deep E!!! I can feel that shit in my stomach.”

“Tell me some shit I don’t know, like what time it is.”

Erik started pounding her relentlessly now, making sure she felt every single stroke in her lower belly. She attempted to clench her legs together.

“Open wider Kelis. I didn’t come to play I came to fuck.”

She widened her legs, Erik leaning forward to grip her ombré weave from behind.

“This hair ain’t cheap nigga! Ahhhhh fuckk!!!”

She stared ahead, open-mouthed and frozen.

“I know, my money paid for this shit.”

The more he gripped, the more it felt like her edges would be no more.  Her pussy felt like a never-ending nerve center, the more he stroked the more her orgasm peaked.

“That’s what? Cum number four on its way?”

“Fuck you.”

“Nah, fuck you.”

Erik lifted her to his chest,, his hips snapping forward with force, her loud obnoxious moans echoing off the walls. She reached back to dig her claw nails into his thigh, body shaking from her fourth orgasm that night.

“Shit...my pussy is through E.”

“Swollen kitty still getting fucked though.”

He still had to cum, he was amused.

Erik flipped her over, grabbing her ankles, resting them over his shoulders.

“Finally..” she let out a breath of relief to be in this position, Erik preferably wanted to blow her back out until he came because it was deeper.

“Finally huh!? The fuck..”

Erik practically put her legs behind her head, watching the panic set into her features. Her stiletto covered feet scraped against the headboard roughly as she reached out to push at Erik’s chest.

“E no no no no.”

He didn’t respond, his body doing push-ups in the pussy, every entrance so deep she could see stars. He held her legs while he drilled, the stretch and the deepness making his eyes roll and circle.

He gnawed at his lip to control the moans that wanted to escape, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

“Moan Daddy, go ahead and moan I know you want to.”

Erik’s lip shook, his eyes turning into slits.

“FUCK YO!” He wasn’t gonna moan for this chick.

“Look at this dick Kelis, LOOK.”

She lifted her head to watch Erik’s full 10 inches dog, and dig, and drill…

“You see that? Stuffing this pussy.”

She reached down to rub her clit, Erik spitting on her fingers to add lubricant. She bucked her hips to meet his, the tacky liquid from her raw pussy causing Erik’s pelvis to stick to her thighs like glue.

“You gonna moan for me? Let it out for me?!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Erik barked with a groan.

“Make me.”

Erik places one hand over her mouth, lifting to pound her with his other hand on her leg.

“Oooo right there E!”

“I’m hitting that spot?!”

“Yeah, nigga!”

She bucked her hips with all the strength she had to meet this man’s strokes. Erik cupped her ass to help her further, the smacking so loud it sounded like a whip.

“OH MY GOODNESS THIS GOOD DICK!”

She grabbed at his throat for leverage.

She gasped repeatedly, her eyes wide on him.

“Her it comes!!!”

“Yeah, girl give me that shit!!!!”

She lunges forward, wrapping her arms around his neck while she unraveled, the liquid nonstop.

“My turn.”

Erik lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, his fingers digging into her back while he fucked her like she was riding a ruthless bull, her body jerking and her eyes fluttering.

“Ah ah ah ah” Erik was close, his muscles tiring.

“Daddy cum! Give it to me!”

And with that, Erik came. His footing slipping and both of them landing on the bed.

He lifted from her slow, slipping his condom covered dick out of her pussy. He stood up, sweaty sticky body glowing in the low light from the lamps, peeling the condom off slow, watching his stiff dick bob up and down like a door stopper.

“Here, this yo early Christmas gift.”

Erik walked over to Kelis, turning the condom over, watching as her eager tongue flicked with need, the white liquid oozing out like a string to her tongue. He smiled tiredly, squeezing it down so she wouldn’t miss a drop. Kelis swallowed it longingly, laughing afterward as if in heaven.

“Tastes good every time.”

Erik tossed the condom in the trash.

“I bet it does.”

Kelis picked up her phone to check it, scrolling through to see she had a few messages and missed calls.

“They sent me a notification about that Christmas Party you go to every year.”

Erik turned on the shower, feeling at the water to make sure it was warm enough.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower before I head out.”

“You heard me E?” Kelis asked while snuggling into his bed.

“Yeah, I head you girl.”

“So? Are you going or not?”

“Why the fuck is it a concern?” He responded with humor in his voice.

“It’s a concern because I wanna be your plus one.”

Erik knew she would ask this eventually. His dick and money had that kind of effect.

“Sure, I never brought a plus on with me, plus you can help me make connections this year with other entrepreneurs.”

Kelis scowled at that last bit. She really grew to like Erik a lot, and she wanted him to feel the same.

“Yeah, sure..”

“You gonna join me? Or stay in that bed?”

Kelis lifted from the bed, picking up her bonnet to cover her hair. She stepped in behind Erik.

“Here wash my back.” Erik handed her his body sponge. Kelis didn’t argue, used to the routine as she scrubbed in circles over his russet skin.

___________________________________

“Brielle this is amazing. I love what you did with the back. You know I love a low back. And it’s red!”

Brielle sat on the carpeted floor of her studio, measuring tape around her neck and rough sketches pooling in front of her. She wore her long curly hair in a low ponytail, cat eye red-framed glasses on her face with a fluffy cropped cream sweater, nude leggings and cream colored leg warmers with chestnut uggs on her feet.

“It compliments you, Erika, it’s your signature look.” Brielle took a sip of her caramel macchiato, playing with s single Tiffany diamond earring. She had a dress that needed to be made for Victoria’s Secret model who was having a bachelorette party. She wanted a short cocktail dress with a high slit up the leg in a pretty champagne silk. The back would be low with strings of diamonds dragging across.

“I can always count on you girl, DANIELLE!!!”

Erika’s assistant Danielle came rushing over, her boyish navy blue suit and public desire open-toed shoes coming into view.

“I want you to have this dress sealed and sent to my condo in Manhattan right away. If I so much as SEE a stain, that’s your head and your job.”

Brielle rolled her eyes, leaning forward to add detail to the sketch in front of her.

“Yes, ma’am right away!” Danielle scurried away to some of the employees of Brielle’s design studio to have the dress ready and protected. Erika slipped out the garment, gracefully handing it over to one of Brielle’s assistants.

“How is the life of Broadway going for you?” Brielle asked.

“Perfect actually, I will be touring internationally in about a week for the Nutcracker play. Of course, I’m staring in it.

She flipped her blunt cut hair, light skin glowing almost yellow under the vanity lights.

“That’s amazing Erika, I’ll definitely be out to support you of course when it starts.”

“Free tickets at the booth like always.”

Erika got dressed in her Fendi jumpsuit, Gucci booted heels on and real fur coat. She snapped her fingers for her Fendi clutch, Danielle handing it over.

“Well, this is goodbye, for now, Brie, I’ll see you sometime next year, you know I'll want my stylist to cook up something fabulous for me.”

“As always Erika you know I gotcha.”

She blew a kiss and waved goodbye, making her exit, finally causing Brielle to relax.

“Finally, queue the music and bring out the spiked eggnog guys. Her assistants laughed, all of them joining her.

“So, tomorrow is that Christmas party Brielle! You excited?”

Brielle didn’t wanna think about that damn party, but making connections made her money and more opportunities.

“Yeah, I’m going to drag my ass there no matter how much I don’t want to.”

“Alone?” Her main assistant Chrissy asked.

“Yep, like I have been doing for the past two years.”

Brielle didn’t have time to entertain a man.

“You would look cute with a plus one, how about Trevante Rhodes? He’s been eyeing you for some time girl and all that chocolate of a man can’t go unnoticed.”

Trevante was handsome and charming, Brielle definitely considered a date with him, but never made the initiative.

“Nah, I’m just gonna show up, drink, and go back to my hotel.”

Brielle looked at Chrissy, a thought surfacing.

“You know what, why don’t you come with me? It would be a great opportunity Chris and you would love it.”

Chrissy was shocked that Brie was making an offer, but nonetheless, she cheerfully accepted the invitation.

“Yes, Brie I would be more than happy to go with you girl.”

Brielle didn’t want to invite any of her other friends this time, and she really enjoyed Chrissy’s company. Who knows? They could explore the nightlife of New York afterward.

___________________________________________

Brielle finally made it to her Brooklyn apartment, greeting her Yorkie Muffy while opening her door.

“Hey, muff! I missed you baby!”

She ruffled her fur, kissing her nose. Brielle turned on her answering machine, busying herself with household duties while each message played out. Every single one was business related, and she didn’t want to deal with that right now especially since she just made it home. Brielle decided to make herself a pot of lasagna soup, leaning into her fridge to check for all the ingredients. Luckily she had everything she needed, grabbing up her crock pot. She made a pot of water to boil for her noodles, walking away to her bedroom to undress.

She felt like being naked for some reason, the cozy warmth of her apartment giving her more of a reason to walk around in her birthday suit. Her feet were covered in ugg slippers, and her curly hair out and wild.

“Alexa, play my Christmas playlist.”

The instrumental to Chris Brown this Christmas version played while she grabbed up one of her homemade eggnog glasses from the fridge. She loved this time of the year. Her birthday was just one day before Christmas. Her tree was already up and decorated, most of her gifts under it. She had lights up around her apartment, and streamers, even a mistletoe.

That very mistletoe she actually stared at right now, her naked body curled up on her grey suede couch.

Erik.

He came flooding her memories from last year, the cold way he told her Happy Holidays after stalking out sent a chill up her spine. After that, Brielle had been thinking and she felt horrible. She thought over the past week how she would apologize if he showed up, which he always did but still, she was afraid of his response.

Erik wasn’t the type of person to forgive easily.

Christmas Party, 2015:

“Erik! Come over here.”

Jason Blake, the CEO of a string of steakhouses across the nation.

“I would like for you to meet a friend of mines. She’s a Celeb Stylist here in New York.”

Erik approached, wearing a navy blue and green plaid tailored suit with gold cufflinks, navy blue suede custom Calvin Klein dress shoes, and matching black Calvin Klein glasses. He had short dreads that swept to one side of his face, some of the ones in the front touching his right eyebrow.

“Brielle, this is Erik Stevens. He is the CFO of the Wakandan Outreach Centers that originates in Oakland.”

He oozes charm, that killer smile blazing.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Brielle.”

He held out his hand, Brielle taking it politely, slipping back with a hold on her glass of Chardonnay with two hands. Brielle wore a black suit dress of her design with gold buttons, feet covered in Louboutin red bottoms, her curly hair up in a messy top knot bun with bright red lipstick and a Smokey eye to bring out the captivating brown of her irises.

“I’ll let you two get to know each other.” Jason slipped away through the crowd, Erik stepping closer with a glass of what looked like Hennessy in his hand.

“Is it too soon to say that you look stunning.”

“No, but thank you.”

There was a pause before he spoke again.

“So tell me, why design?”

“Well, it’s funny that you ask that. I wanted to be a neurosurgeon.”

Erik looked taken aback, his eyebrows raising with enthusiasm.

“Really?! Why the change that’s dope.”

“Well, I’m all about following my passion. I started just one semester of it, and I found out I didn’t love it like I thought I would. Med School after graduating high school early was horrifying. So, I dropped out, and followed my other dream… I went to design school.”

Erik nods his head, impressed.

“I admire that. It’s amazing to see a strong, successful, black women do her thing.”

She blushed.

“Okay so, why the Wakandan Outreach? What do you do there?”

“I work in the science division. We basically come up with different technology that could benefit the black community, especially the youth.”

“That’s a really good job, and hard to get. King T’Challa from what I heard can be tuff.”

Brielle kept up with these sorts of things, she admired the way T’Challa decided to give back to African Americans.

“Yeah I know, he’s my cousin so I see first hand.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yes ma’am, he’s my cousin.”

Brielle just stared at Erik, hoping for a joke, but there the April fools didn’t come.

“Wow. Just wow…” that’s all she could say.

“Where does that place me in your circle of entrepreneur friends?”

Brielle let out a soft giggle.

“Uh, nowhere special. But that did shock me though.”

Before Erik could speak, a hand reached out over his shoulder seductively, causing Brielle to pause between drinking. The thing was, she could smell a womanizer on a man, and that was definitely Erik Stevens.

The women was a fellow business owner by the name of Charlotte. She had a couple of psychiatry offices in New York.

“Well well, I wondered when I would see you again.”

Erik’s jaw tightened, but not in annoyance.

“Charlotte Cruise. My…”

Brielle rolled her eyes, pressing out the wrinkles in her dress with her hand.

“Oh, hi Brie.” The women said with no interest.

“I’ll let you two talk and kiss and whatever else.”

Brielle downed the rest of her Chardonnay, heading over to Jason to talk about his new restaurant opening in Boston.

“Hey!”

Brielle looked over her shoulder.

“Leaving already? The convo was getting juicy.”

“Maybe another time, take care.”

To her surprise, that night Erik bothered her, but she didn’t mind a little. He was charming, but also she knew he admires her as well. Ever since then, he came to the Christmas parties, talking to Brielle.

Brielle was pulled from her thoughts when she heard the sizzling sound of water hitting fire, jumping up, naked booty bouncing as she made it to her boiling pot of lasagna noodles. She strained them, finally setting out to prepare her soup in the crockpot.

She sat on her carpeted floor, a wool robe on and freshly showered, Home Alone on. Brielle tried her hardest not to think about Erik, taking slow tastes of her hot soup.

Why was he on her mind, she didn’t like him.

But he’s so cute

I Don’t even want this man I just feel sorry for how I acted.

But he’s tantalizing and charming, and aristocratic.

“Oh boy” she doesn’t need this right now, a slow breath escaping her mouth as she opened her eyes to Kevin setting up toys near the window for the burglars to step on.

@panthergoddessbast @eriknutinthispoosy @hearteyes-for-killmonger @whoramilaje @thehomierobbstark @ange-sensuel @allhailnjadaka @hdkween @killmonger-dolan @killmongersgurl @killmongersaidheyauntie @erikismybitch @erik-killmcnger @erikslulbaby @njadaka-apologist @njadaddy @njadakasrage @sweettea-and-honeybutter @muse-of-mbaku @blowmymbackout @killmongersprincess @chaneajoyyy @whorderofthepheonix @purple-apricots @destinio1 @wifin-niggaz @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @laketaj24 @vikkidc @shookmcgookqueen @bidibidibombaclaat @kaytauru @shesakillerkween @janelledarling @loosewindmill @n-jadaddy @wakandanblogger @wakandawinning @softnani @iamrheaspeaks @drsunshine97 @blackpinup22 @disneysdarlingdiva @forbeautyandlife @brittyevans @deja-r @eriksprincess @unfriendly-blk-hottie @wakanda-inspired @abeautifulmindexposed @itsangeludaku @thehonorablekingerik

[alloveroliver]

Fenrir X MC “No, I Love You More”

Smut; Fenrir Godspeed

First Time as a couple, Switching WC: 1,786 Ikemen Revolution Fanfic His fingers intertwined with hers under the plush blanket. Sitting in the common room, cool air tickling any of their exposed skin. She pulled her foot back under the covers, pushing it under his thigh. “Your toes are like ice cubes!” Fenrir yelped teasingly, feigning a pout. “Put them under your own leg to warm em�� up.” She wiggled her toes definitely, giggling at his perturbed face. “Nah, your thigh is warmer than mine.” He smirked leaning down to her, shifting his weight on the couch cushion. She watched as his sparkling eyes captured her gaze with a flirtatious wink. “Testing my boundaries, Eh?” The warm covers slid over her arm as Fenrir brought their linked hand towards his mouth. With delicate precision his lips pressed over each knuckle, staring into her eyes. He watched with curiosity as her cheeks heated under his insinuating touch. After all the time spent together, through all the dates and long evenings, neither of them had pushed past this stage. The gentle kisses and longing stares were all that lingered between them. Fenrir hoped he wasn’t pushing her towards something she wasn’t ready for, but her gaze became clouded with lust as his kisses trailed past her wrist and up her arm.

She let the blanket fall to the floor as he neared, his magenta hair falling onto his face as he traveled towards her. He kissed her arm every inch of the way until he met her shoulder. Collectively their breathing sped up, a single question hanging in the air between them. Should they stop, or was this the perfect moment where they were both absolutely ready? She glanced at the inky black sky beyond the window, indicating just how late it had gotten. Yet, her shoulder relaxed when his lips pressed on her collarbone, inviting him ever closer. Fenrir didn’t hesitate to move his kisses towards her neck, leaving warmth every spot he touched. Even his hands were moving now, slowly up her torso. The couch creaked as the man's weight tilted towards his girlfriends. Fenrir made it to her cheek, sprinkling kisses towards her supple lips. A kiss like no other was shared between them. A fiery kiss that warmed both of them from within. Her hand caressed his neck, holding him closer. Fenrir’s trembling hand dipped beneath her shirt, tracing patterns above her navel. She relaxed into the plush couch further, moving her legs to lay on her back comfortably. “So,” His nose brushed hers before looking into her eyes. “Is this okay? To keep going?” He let out a shaky breath that sounded as if it were meant to be a laugh. Her hands cupped his cheeks, smiling kindly at her true love. “Of course, Fenrir. I’m ready and,” She bit her lip, lowering her voice. “I want you.” The breath from her confession wafted over his skin, sending a needy shiver through his body. Fenrir’s hand moved further under her shirt, gently cupping her breast. The air in the room became bearable as their skin heated under one another's embrace. He kissed her fervently, feeling his member awaken at the touch of her full chest. She sighed into the kiss, pressing her chest furthering into his palm. It had taken them so long to get to this point that it almost didn’t feel real to him. He cherished her lips, cradling the back of her head in his free palm. Tugging desperately at the fabric, he became focused on removing the garment from her. He sat back and tugged his t-shirt up and over his head, discarding it on the bare floor. With a curl of his finger, he called her forward. Her beautiful infectious smile lit up the dim room, calming his nerves. Helping him, she pulled the ends of her shirt over her head, laying it next to his. Another kiss crashed them both back onto the couch. He kissed her thoroughly, causing her mind to focus only on his lips. Hands in each other hair, Fenrir built up the courage to travel downwards. He moved to her neck, kissing the sensitive skin gently before shifting the next kiss lower. Her hands ran through his hair, practically pushing him towards their collective goal. Her chest heaved the nearer he got, kissing and licking at the skin until meeting her pert nub. He wished he had the gall to invite her to his room before now, but this was the point of no return and neither of them was leaving this spot anytime soon. With his tongue, he lapped at her nippled until a long sigh left her lips. Her hands tangled in his hair, urging his head down further. With a smirk Fenrir hooked his thumbs the edge of her bottoms, removing them in a firm tug. The pants plopped to the floor next to his shirt, along with her underwear and all her dignity. Completely exposed to her boyfriend she fidgeted. Not letting her nerves get the best of her, she willed her shoulders to relax against the cushion she lay on. He took one of her legs and pushed it off to the side, carefully spreading her limbs apart. He held it there, kissing the mound down towards her core. He didn’t hesitate before caressing her clit gently with his tongue. Her mind literally went blank as a surge of heat began to flow through her, grasping the couch as it did. The cushion gave way to her palms, squeezing tight to hold in the sounds that threatened to escape. His tongue traveled down her slit, reveling in the taste of her. Her core heated up like molten lava, sensually dripping at his ministrations. Fenrir was stuck between taking his time or eagerly moving forward. Her body responded to him so well already. Fenrir kissed her thigh, then her stomach as he trailed a line of kisses back to her neck. She held his face to hers. Their lips pressed together then his tongue teased the part. Touching tips, Fenrir would back out again teasingly. He did this until her courage overcame her and dipped into his mouth fully. Their kiss deepened as her fingers smoothed over the ridges of his torso towards his pants. “I’ll take care of you.” He whispered in her ear, his nose caressing the soft skin of her neck. They both helped each other unclasp his trousers. Kissing the shell of her ear, he released his hard member from its confines. Her lips parted as they matched their gaze. His eyes glittered with excitement and love, carding his hand through her hair. He took his time sliding into the slickness between her thighs, kissing and nipping at her bottom lip. With a heavy grunt, he rocked his hips towards her in a sensual motion. Her fingers tangled in his hair with small gasps passing over her lips. His body hovered over her in a protective manner, keeping her close and safe in his arms. Never had she felt more cherished and loved than in this very moment. Fenrir could be instantaneous with battle strategies, but when it came to her delicate body he treasured every nuance. 

Her hands gingerly smoothed down the valley of his back, using her fingertips to evoke chill bumps where the skin was becoming warm. Only her touch could do this, indicating how special she was to him. In every way it counted, they were partners through and through. Sharing this moment with her was just another thing they would do together as equals, keeping one another first on their list of priorities. The palm pushing lightly on his chest broke him out of his trance. Her plump lips perked up at the sides before she whispered. “Lay down.” Fenrir tenderly pulled himself out of her, using his hands to guide backward onto the thick couch. Her hair shifted towards the front of her shoulders moving closer. Once he lay flat on his back, she straddled his hips, kissing the dips of his broad shoulders. The cool room now eased the flames that licked their skin. Her hand grasped the base of his cock helping him re-enter her as she rocked her hips. The new positions had them both mewling at the new sensations. The new angle of his solid member stretching, sliding deliciously over her erogenous zone, sent a fresh heat to her abdomen. With her knees propping her up, she placed her hands on his shoulders to aid in propelling her motions. He took his time ghosting his hand over the swell of her backside, helping her hips moving to a rhythm. Fenrir gasped when she rested for a moment, sitting fully on his lap. He hit her deep, fully sheathed while her lips trailed the underside of his jaw. “You feel so amazing” He murmured. Laying his head back into the cushion, he screwed his eyes shut. His hands moved over her frame, focusing now over the swell of her chest. Their whole relationship up until this point seemed more solidified than anything. However, his heart seemed to grow to accommodate the ever-evolving love between them.  Hardly believing how one person could make him feel so strongly, he smiled. Her eyes locked with his, matching his happy gaze. “I love you.” She sighed happily.  She began moving her body up and down over his member again, gasping when his erection hit just the right spot.  Her desire bubbled from within, threatening to spew over at a moments notice. With hands roaming, and lips meeting she stifled a moan. “I’m close” Her breath hitched as she spoke. Fenrir grabbed her hips and thrust upwards, matching her speed. No longer able to kiss due to the motions, her head rocked between his shoulder and neck. “Ah, me too.” His teeth grit, eyebrows scrunching as he spoke breathlessly. The familiar heat washed through her abdomen, and her runaway heart seemingly slowed for the moment. Her walls flexed and squeezed against his cock, while she basked in the pleasure. His hands cupped her chest, slowing down his strokes to find his own release. His fingers began to knead the small nubs, listening for her whimpers while setting an even pace. With her knees she pushed herself up and down over his shaft, her pussy quivering from overstimulation. He had lasted longer than she did, but neither of them complained as their heavy breaths and sensual moans mixed in the room. . . . Thank you, @yunohawkeye for the request!! I hope you like how this turned out XD Masterlist // Kofi <3 // Ao3

[junionigiri]

Peony Pink and Cherry Blossom Tea Ch 8: Are You Doing What You Have To Do

Summary: Ochako needs to take a long, hard look at herself. (Shouto too, while we’re at it).

Relationship(s): Todoroki Shouto/Uraraka Ochako; Shindo Yo and Uraraka Ochako

Rating: M (take noooooote)

Warnings/Notes: Look at the rating. As hard as I’m looking at my life right now. I’m so sorry for being late and I’m sorry for this chapter

She remembers how the warm vending machine coffee tin in her hand steadily cools and freezes in her hand, against the chill of the night air. A full moon, and Saturn above it. She sits on the curb, a heavy book bag filled with nursing references next to her.

He stands behind her at an arm’s length, leaning against the lamp post with his hands stuffed in his pockets. She feels his stare, light and unaffected, feels the usual lazy smile on his face burning on the skin of the nape of her neck.

What a waste of a beautiful night.

“Chako-chan, come on, don’t look like that.” He sounds the same, infuriatingly the same as always. Like he didn’t just ruin all their plans and humiliate her and break her heart.

Like he did absolutely nothing. “We were going to split up eventually.” She knows he’s shrugging, knows that not even a single muscle on his face twitches as he speaks. “I thought it was stupid to prolong the agony."

She’d laugh, but her eyes are stinging and she knew that she’d bawl if she opened her mouth without bracing herself. “Yocchan, what’s stupid is you not even trying to stay with me.”

For a person who’s so good at fighting, he isn’t very good at fighting to keep her at his side.

He exhales in frustration. “We talked about this over and over--” He uses that tone again, they’re going to argue about the same shitty thing again and neither of them will listen to each other and Ochako’s tired before it even begins. “It’s impossible for us to stay together if we want to chase after what we want! I mean, I’m a sidekick now, Chako, you know how hard it is to make time for myself as it is--”

She wouldn’t know, because he doesn’t answer her calls, texts, emails, nothing. She sees him more on TV with reporters and fans who assume that he’s single. He talks a lot, but they don’t talk anymore.

“--and I see you work so hard to help so many people one day. I can’t get in the way of that…”

She fuckin’ knows it, she knows how hard she works, how she’s stretched thin from studying and doing part-time work to pay her own tuition and living expenses. She hates like he says it like she doesn’t. She went in this field because she thought she wanted to give her parents a comfortable life. But it’s more than that now. She genuinely wants to help people, like he does.

They want the same thing, but he thinks that they’re on different pages entirely. It’s frustrating. “So do you think we’re holding each other back?”

Am I holding you back?

He doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t need to. She concentrates on keeping her breathing even.

She hears him move behind her. He falls next to her on that dirty curb. She feels his eyes on her as she keeps hers away from his, concentrates on the cool glow of Saturn overhead. Her mouth quivers when he turns her head to face him.

Has his smile always looked like this? Warm and dashing, but doesn’t quite reach his dark eyes? Has he always looked this… far away?

“Ochako,” he says in a low voice she barely hears from her orbit. “I’ll… love you forever, okay? I really will.”

He probably kisses her for the last time. Or he doesn’t. It’s entirely possible that he stands and leaves her on that curb, in the cold night with cold coffee in her hands, quietly and without another glance. It’s a memory from far too long ago, and it’s highly likely that a lot of it happened differently. Ochako could do to forget about it a little more.

But it’s too hard to forget the hollow in her heart that she feels that night despite the anger and emptiness, precisely because she thinks the same--she’ll probably love him forever too.

She isn’t always angry and bitter after that--there are pretty girls and pretty boys that helped her forget, good people who made her genuinely smile and frown and laugh and cry, many memories that she wouldn’t trade for the world.

Yet, she doesn’t ever remember trying to fill that hollow in her chest in the years that follow.

 *

 She sees Saturn again from her cold and lonely seat in the park bench that night, and briefly through Shouto’s window when he allows her to push him through the door with her hungry mouth on his.

There’s no words left to speak when she tugs off his coat in haste and sneaks her hands underneath his shirt to feel his skin. She feels the cold on his right, the warmth over his left and the thrum of his heart underneath. The contrast makes her dizzy, the broadness and hardness of his torso even more so. She can’t help but run her fingers appreciatively over him, can’t help but giggle when he gasps at the scratch of her fingernails.

Her hands curl around him, run all over his back where the dragons are. Fierce, powerful. She can trace the outlines of the flame and glaciers and the scales as her fingerpads trace his skin.

His eyes flutter closed as he allows her to trace them. His muscles move under her hands, the sensation very enticing.

Ah, she really wants her hands all over him. It’s a struggle to keep her pinky up when her body screams at all of her to make as much contact as possible.

She starts unbuttoning his shirt in a haze, pulling it off him so impatiently that she might have sent buttons flying all over the tatami. He also somehow works her hoodie and scrub top off of her, through grunts and gasps and hurried motions that might seem funny if they weren’t so delirious.

When his hands are on her again, she hisses at the sting of both hot and cold on the bare skin of her waist.

He lets her go. The air between his palms and her skin is too far. “Is this too much? I’m--”

“No,” she breathes. Places both hands on her--so big, she thinks, he’s so much bigger than her, even her waist feels small in his hands. “Keep your hands on me. I like it.”

He looks at her with heavy-lidded eyes, and descends on her mouth with much more fervor than she thinks is possible. She moans against his mouth when he activates his quirk on her a little more gently this time. She doesn’t know what her body wants to feel, when half of it is covered in goosebumps and the other screams red.

But at least the overload of sensations is just enough to numb the feeling inside.

She’s lifted in the next moment. Her arms go around his neck and her legs go around his torso. She feels how strong the former pro hero is as he barely struggles with all her weight on him, as he carries her across his apartment and into his bedroom.

He lays her down gently on a messy futon that he probably left unrolled from a busy morning. She sinks in its softness and his scent, although she wishes that he were a little rougher on her. Her blood aches for a lot of pressure, pain even. She bites his lower lip to goad him on, earning her a surprised moan.

“Ochako.” His voice is so deep she feels like drowning. “I…”

She swallows his words down with another kiss. No more words. “You can do whatever you want,” she breathes, looking right into his eyes.

His Adam’s apple bobs with a thoughtful swallow. “Are you sure?”

She nods and nibbles at his collarbone. She’s going to do whatever she wants too, and she hopes he understands.

Carefully, his hands trail up her stomach, her chest, her bare shoulders. She shudders at the lines of warmth and cold that he traces under nimble finger tips, that curl around her back to unhook her bra and pull it down. He peppers kisses along her jaw, the side of her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. Her breath shallows and hastens as he goes lower and lower, stopping at the waistband of her pants.

“Tell me to stop anytime and I will,” he whispers clearly, with eyes that are both searing and soft and careful.

His cold hand remains over her left breast, squeezes it appreciatively. All she’s able to manage is an affirmative whimper.

He smiles, and pulls her pants and underwear down in one go.

The cool air hits her nakedness all at once. She doesn’t have a lot of mindfulness left to be embarrassed to be completely undressed in front of Todoroki Shouto for the first time. Still, the weight of his gaze on her-- all of her, including the parts of her carefully tucked away and shaped and hidden underneath her clothing--she swears there’s a palpable heat where his eyes land on her skin.

“Beautiful,” she hears him whisper from above her.

That single word causes a spike of heat in her bloodstream. She blushes furiously, muttering, “N… no, don’t say stuff like…”

“Hm?” His hum comes out as a purr when he leans down to nuzzle into her neck again. She feels his lips curl against her skin. “Why not?”

“Because-- hm-- ” It’s hard to go on a body conscious rant when that pretty mouth of his is on her, all over her, the trail going lower, lower. “You’re the pretty one between us, Shouto, and I’m just-- ahh-- ”

He bit her, oh my god. He suckles on the offended spot on her chest, eyes on her and glinting excitedly. “Just…?”

“Just…” God, what is she saying again? Words are suddenly meaningless, not when his warm hand snakes down between them, below her, hovering over her core. Another ahh escapes her as he traces a line up and down her entrance, palm pressing over her sensitive nub.

“I don’t understand, Ochako.” She knows by now that he knows how to tease, but it always catches her off-guard when he does. “Everything about you is beautiful. Your eyes. Your cheeks. Your neck. Your breasts, your belly… your thighs… this little astronaut here--you got me ever since I saw this--”

He presses soft kisses over those places as he says them, and oh god she won’t have enough oxygen in her lungs to listen to him list down all her body parts. He pays extra attention to the little tattoo, nibbles it a little even, as if paying tribute to the pesky thing that spurred all of this on.

She giggles, then groans when his mouth continues to explore her skin.

He descends and crouches in front of her, arms hooked around her thighs. He takes his time kissing the soft, inner surface, squeezes the muscles there appreciatively. She gasps for the nth time, amazed at the sight of him kneeling before her like he’s praying in church, worshiping her body.

“Sh-Shou--”

She doesn’t finish saying his name when she feels his tongue on her.

“Oh god,” she gasps. The feel of his tongue is insanely good. She feels him play with the temperature of his mouth and his breath as he eats her out. Sometimes searing hot, with puffs of cold, and the shock of all the sensations drive her mad. She can’t help but grind her hips against his face. At this rate it won’t take too long before she unravels--she bites her fingers, tries to keep herself in control--

She isn’t able to, and soon her body shudders and she’s seeing stars and she’s moaning his name over and over. She’s been eaten out before, but she’s sure it doesn’t feel as good as it did just then. She breathes like she held her breath the entire time. “Shouto, that was good, so good…”

He smiles in satisfaction, crawls forward and kisses her full on the mouth. She tastes herself in his mouth--an odd sensation she doesn’t usually like, but she craves his mouth, craves the sting of heat and cold, craves that sensory onslaught--

Make it numb--

Her head is going down from the high, and already she’s craving for the next one. She gives in to the surge of courage and desperation. She rolls them over so that he’s flat on his back and she’s straddling his hips. With a surprised gasp, Shouto looks up at her with wide eyes.

“Ochako--”

She drowns his words again with another kiss. “I want you to feel good too…”

He chuckles beneath her as she unbuttons his fly. “You’re impatient tonight.” He kisses her back sweetly all the same and allows her to pull off his pants all the same.

He has no idea. She’s terrible for using him like this. When she draws out a sound of pleasure from him with the touch of her hand, a very small twinge in her chest makes itself known. She ignores it and lets it fade, because she’s good at that, and instead focuses on giving Todoroki Shouto head, because she knows she’s also good at that.

It’s so easy to forget those feelings of guilt when she watches his beautiful face contort in pleasure, watch urgent breaths and gasps flow and fall within that talented mouth. Her tongue swirls around the head, making him groan out her name.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats, making her heart throb wildly in her chest. “So beautiful taking me in your mouth, damn--”

She hums. Never has a word--a profanity, of all things--hit her veins like a bullet, make her entire body shudder in excitement. And he says it so quietly, like he stumbles over the word and the debauched part of him that enjoys it.

She loves the way it sounds. She’s surprised by it, because who would have thought that hearing Todoroki Shouto, this absolute demigod descended upon the earth, curse like a heathen just from the play of her tongue--

“Fuck, that’s so good--” A little louder now. A little more wrecked. More, Ochako wants to hear more of that.

It goads her on even further, not meaning to stop until he comes, but soon he stops her with his hands on her cheeks and motions for her to go up to him.

She obliges, kisses him on the mouth again. He returns it languidly at first, stutters against her mouth when she presses and slides her dripping core against his length. She lifts her head and smiles smugly at the way his eyes roll upward.

“Do you like that?” The sweet pressure against her entrance is simultaneously too much and not enough. Gods, isn’t it about time to go all the way? She begins to align her hips to his hardness almost mindlessly. She feels Shouto’s burning grip on her hips and she loves how she’s sure of the marks that’ll be there in the morning.

“Wait,” he says. His cold hand leaves her to reach out for a drawer, almost out of his reach. It’s a struggle, but he eventually finds what he’s looking for. “If you do that, I might not be able to stop myself, so…”

Ah, did she really almost let him in without a condom? How starved is she that she would be so careless?

The moments when he covers himself is short, but it’s enough to make her aware of that twinge in her chest, and it’s unbearable. It’s so that when he’s done, she moves in immediately. They gasp in unison as she sinks to the hilt slowly, steadily.

Oh, god, she didn’t think he’d fit--she feels filled past her limit, she feels like she’s about to split open. Her mouth hangs open as she catches her breath, and barely feels Shouto’s hands on her shoulders, steadying her.

“Are you all right?”

Sapphire and onyx focus on her, brows furrowed in concern.

It hurts. Just a little, but she needs this. She nods, gives him a smile and another kiss, as a response. “I’m all right, dear… it feels good, it does, it does--”

She lifts as she slurs out the words. Shouto moans a little louder--she isn’t sure if it’s with the way her body rises and sinks down, over and over, or if it’s how the word dear slips out of her mouth.

A rhythm is soon set in place. The sounds of their mouths and tongues colliding is absolutely lewd, the sound of her wetness moving up and down his length even more so. His head falls on her shoulder. (Is this really him holding onto her body for dear life?) His hands are back on her waist, assisting her, goading her to move faster, faster--

“Ochako-- fuck, it’s so good… so tight--”

She never imagined Shouto to be so vocal, so fuckin’ vulgar. She moves her hips a certain way, and she’s treated to the sound of this perfect and poised and composed man cursing over and over, on the verge of losing control. Seeing him gripping his inhibitions so loosely spurs her on and on. She wants to give him all that she can just to see how far he would let go.

(It makes her feel a little worse--she’s such a user , she shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but…)

His voice fills her head like a mantra, hypnotizing her, urging her closer and closer and closer--

“I never thought you would--with me-- fuck, you’re so good, you feel so good--”

That worship and that slip of the tongue feels so right, even though she doesn’t deserve it. It doesn’t take long before her body clenches around him, and his name escapes from her in a strangled cry. She feels him stiffen inside her soon after, thrusting up at her erratically as he moans her name.

He kisses her again as if he’ll never get sick of it, hands cupping her cheeks tenderly. He pulls out soon after, letting her roll to the futon.

The bed feels unbearably empty when he excuses himself to throw the condom away. It isn’t even that long, and Ochako feels stupid that she feels so sad, so cold when his weight isn’t on the futon.

He comes back eventually with mittens from the kitchen, which makes her snort indignantly. When he puts his arms around her and spoons her, she doesn’t feel as sad or as stupid, but…

“Ochako,” Shouto mutters low in her ear. “You can stay the night, if you want to.”

“I could?”

He hums--ah, she loves the sound of that, loves the rumble that goes all over her body. “... not just tonight either. Just say the word. I’ll get you all the mittens you want.”

She can’t help the dumb smile on her face. She turns to face him, meets the tiny, genuine smile on his face. What a sight. “I’d like that.”

“Mm.” The blanket that covers them is warm. Shouto is warm. He’s all around her, as he should be. It feels like heaven. His eyes close as he holds her closer.

But...

The sound of his quiet breath isn’t loud enough to calm the turmoil in her heart.

 *

 Past midnight, Shouto’s eyes are wide open.

Ochako snoozes beside him, snoring softly. Chestnut hair falling over her face, one round cheek squished against his pillows. Hands in his comically oversized mittens sprawled above her head. At some point, she turned away from him, her back pressing against his chest.

He stares at the creamy expanse of her back. The mole he found ages ago is still there, amongst the sparse smattering of freckles, in the shallow valley along her spine right where he remembers it would be.

Without thinking about it, he bends over to press his lips over it.

She sighs in her sleep upon the contact.

He smiles. This is nice. Sleeping in one futon is nice. As is being able to kiss Uraraka Ochako as much as this.

It’s strange. He hasn’t dated anyone seriously before for many reasons, but this isn’t the first time he was intimate with anyone. Those warm bodies and messy one-night stands are regrettably forgettable though. He doesn’t remember feeling elated or the opposite about them.

But this… he knows that he’ll remember this night for a long time.

(He convinces himself that it’s not a bad thing.)

He wants to kiss her again. He knows he’s never felt that way about another person before. He wants to hold her close, have his mouth on hers, wants to drown in the cherry blossom scent of her hair. Wants to look in those warm brown eyes, looking up at him and all over him.

(Her eyes.)

Something beats in his chest like a warning. He remembers clearly when he thinks about Ochako’s eyes--how turbulent and cloudy they were, how anxious, how impatient. Like she can’t keep her hands off him because she can’t stand not using her body like she did.

It’s… concerning. But she didn’t seem interested in talking about it, and he didn’t have the will or the power to keep her away anymore. It’s probably illogical to feel like this new closeness of theirs actually pushed them farther apart.

It’s even more illogical how afraid he feels suddenly that he’ll lose her like this.

No… he won’t lose her. Why would he? They wanted each other equally. The moment called for them to be closer. All of it felt right.

(Except, that look in her eyes, didn’t that feel wrong?)

He wonders if he should have stopped it. 

(He wonders again, if he could have. He’s dreamed of having her in his arms for some time now, he realizes, and not only because she’s obliged to do it for other people.)

Maybe he’s worrying for nothing. Maybe he’s looking too much into it while things are falling neatly in place for them. Maybe, just this once, things are working out of them both.

Well. All he knows he should still ask her about it, when she wakes up.

Just in case he’s wrong, though, he ought to keep her close to him. Let himself memorize the way her small body presses against his, with all its enticing curves and slopes and warmth and sweetness.

He knows that he’ll miss all this in the morning, when they need to wake up.

 *

 And he does, when the sun rises and hits him in the eye, and the incessant buzzing of a phone cuts into his dream like the edge of a blunt knife.

Not removing himself from Ochako’s side, he gropes blindly for the offensive device on the tatami above their heads. His hand lands on it as it vibrates, and with bleary eyes he tries to process what he’s seeing.

First thing he realizes is that it’s not his phone. It’s a particularly old model, one that does not need fingerprint recognition to be unlocked.

Next thing is that it’s probably Ochako’s phone, because logically there’s no-one else who could own it, and also because the lock screen features her swollen arm with a partially-coloured Saturn tattooed on it.

And finally, the last thing he learns, as his bleary eyes adjust to the brightness of the phone and his mind partially lifts from its fog: It’s 0601H, and the phone has been buzzing since 0530H, when the first of five messages came in.

All of them from one person.

  Shindo Yo (0530H): morning sleepyhead ヾ(￣0￣ )ノ

Shindo Yo (0533H): Hope u rly wake up soon, said u got a morning shift today (read more)

Shindo Yo (0542H): u didn’t message me lst nite T_T is it because i said u looked like a squirrel and (read more)

Shindo Yo (0545H): i remembered u last night during my patrol!!! i helped out a granny with round cheeks like… (read more)

Shindo Yo (0600H): ill tell u all about it when u wake up  ＼(o￣∇￣o)/❀ヅ❤♫

 He rubs his eyes, trying to make sense of the messages, and not only because of all the shortcuts.

Shindo Yo. Shindo Yo. It takes him a while, but when it does, the messy dark hair and smug face and sneaky dark eyes come to surface, and his morning is immediately ruined.

The phone buzzes again with a chime, as another message comes in-- wake up already ur gonna be l8 for work again-- and this time Ochako stirs with the sound, one mittened hand blindly groping the floor around her.

“Hnn… shut up, I’m awake you noisy idiot,” she mutters, as her mitten keeps meeting empty floor.

He stares at her, and the phone in his hand, still in danger of freezing over in his palm. Without another word, he places it on the floor above her quietly, facedown.

Eventually, one mitten finds it. She takes the phone clumsily, tries to unlock the phone before she realizes that the touch screen can’t recognize her mittened thumb. Awfully, unfairly cute. Shouto would have teased her for it, if he weren’t so irritated. 

She is awfully silent, staring at her phone and focusing on those annoying messages, like it takes her a while to decipher them as well. Over her shoulder, Shouto sees more cutesy kaomoji littering the screen. How anyone understands anything like that without having a headache from sensory overload is beyond him.

Still… Ochako thinks about it, and types a message back.

And all at once, Shouto remembers his place.

She isn’t supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be at her apartment, waking up in a bed alone. Or…  someone else who isn’t him. Not him. Not like this, vulnerable and confused and conflicted.

He’s wrong about everything.

The message is too small and brief for him to read. He wonders what she tells him. Did she tell him good morning back? Tell him thanks for waking her up? Ask about that granny with round cheeks, tell him that they should talk about it face-to-face? Did she say where he was, that she’s actually in his apartment, or is it too unimportant a fact to say to that guy?

He looks away, because fundamentally it’s wrong to read someone else’s correspondences like this. Also, if he thinks about the two of them any more than this…

“Brrr… you’re getting cold,” Ochako says, as she places her phone face-down on the futon. “You okay?”

He catches himself right before he gets any colder. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

She blinks at him, a little more awake now, a little concerned. “You… don’t look okay. Is there anything on your mind?”

Is she ready to talk now? That’ll be difficult, because he suddenly doesn’t feel that he is.

“Nothing’s on my mind.”

She tilts her head up on his pillow, pink cheeks glowing and little eyebrows furrowing together. “W… well… if you say so…”

A silence bears down on them, heavy and incompatible with the warm light of the sun streaming in the room. Steadily suffocating, like a hand around his neck. He needs to stand up, to think a little clearer, to get away from that intoxicating cherry blossom scent--

“Shouto…”

He stands before she can say anything more, pulling out a shirt and a pair of boxers for her and dropping them next to her without another word. He pulls on a pair of sweats as well, and without thinking too much about it, begins to move about the room as if it’s just another Wednesday morning.

He crosses the room to move to the bathroom when he feels her tugging on his pants leg. He meets her confused gaze quietly, tilting his head and letting her do the talking.

(He really cannot talk right now.)

“Can we, you know… just talk for a second,” she says, patting the space next to her. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

He regards the space next to her briefly, and opts to sit on the tatami in front of her. She gives him another odd look, but says nothing more about it. She doesn’t put on his shirt, and instead uses it to cover her front in a gesture of modesty.

The silence falls over them again, more unforgiving. Shouto gives her a few moments to form the words in her head.

“I mean, um. About what we did last night.” She rubs her arm self consciously, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.  The warmth of last night, the quiet he felt inside staring at her back suddenly seems so far away.

When the silence becomes too much to bear, he says, even though he’s quite unready to speak: “If it was a mistake, I’m sorry.”

She looks up at him with a sheen in his eyes. “A… mistake?”

Her voice wavers. It’s a little unfair how hurt she appears over his words, when he felt just as awful in her silence a while ago.

He exhales quietly. “You seemed uneasy with me this morning… so I wasn’t sure.”

She bites her lip. “Oh… yeah, I mean if you aren’t sure…”

It seems that none of the words they’re using are working.

He tries again. “If you don’t want things to change between us, it’s all right. We don’t have to do this again.”

She swallows and looks away even farther. “I… I mean, if you don’t want to… I’m sorry, I must have pushed myself on you last night… I didn’t mean to, and…”

She didn’t mean to do any of those things with him last night.

“... I’m sorry if I got carried away, Shouto.” She bows her head, looking at the growing space between them. “I thought that you wanted to. And I wanted to, I definitely wanted to, so…”

She looks up with her shiny doe eyes, confused and vulnerable. Little globules of tears at the corners of her eyes. He really wants to hold her close again, but he wonders what for.

He needs her to be honest this time. He will be too, when he figures out the correct words to say. “Am I holding you back from anything?”

She stares at him with a hint of bewilderment in her eyes. “... why would you ask that?”

He sighs. “Because I feel like I am.”

She looks at him like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “No… isn’t it the opposite?” she says, with sudden heat behind her words. “I thought it was me all along… because aren’t you and Yui-san--”

Kodai? What does she have to do with this?

“Don’t look at me like that, Shouto,” she says in frustration. “I didn’t mean to see it, okay? You two holding hands in the cafe, in plain sight--”

Shouto’s jaw drops, if only for the incredulousness of the situation.

“--and, to be honest, I know there’s nothing wrong with it, because… there was nothing between us. Not really.” The tears begin to flow, and damn they look so wrong flowing down those cheeks. “And you never said anything about it, and it’s okay, I’ll respect you, but it’s stupid, isn’t it? I dunno why I feel screwed up, why… why I’m like this, why I need to be with someone, when...”

He wants to hold her, to rub his hands over her back, tell her that it’s okay to feel whatever she feels. But he doesn’t. Everything feels wrong today, somehow...

“There’s nothing between me and Kodai,” he tells her instead.

She stares at him. “What do you mean?”

He probably shouldn’t tell her about the investigation. It seems to be told to him in confidence. “It’s… work-related. The conversation, the hand-holding. They were things that she needed to do.”

“Wait…” She rubs her forehead rapidly. “So… she needed to talk to you in that private, intimate setting… needed to hold your hand in public…? Needed to have all those fake rumors about the two of you, for what? Work?”

He nods, because it’s the truth.

She scoffs. “How many women do you have to fake-date to get out of things?”

What? Shouto shakes his head. “No, that’s… we aren’t dating, not in any shape of form… she’s different from you.”

Her eyes snap open, and he knows he said something wrong again.

Irritation courses through her, raw and hot, and he feels it from his seat. “That’s a really funny thing to say, Shouto.” She stands, not giving a damn about how she’s still undressed. She bends over to collect her scrub pants from the floor, leaving Shouto’s clothes untouched. “I mean--you can just tell me that you don’t want to tell me anything and I’ll be okay with it, I’ll still pretend to be your girlfriend--”

“Ochako--”

“--but lying to me? To my face?” The tears feel different now. Instead of the quiet free fall over her cheeks, they’re boiling hot and fly from the corners of her eyes with the swift turn of her head. “I… I thought we were friends. I thought--”

“We are,” he says. “I just… can’t tell you everything right now, but--”

No, she isn't supposed to go away like this. They're supposed to talk, to clear the tangle of confusing emotions between them. He's supposed to finally know where he stood with her--if he's in the right place next to her, or in the wrong one, in between the two of them.

He tries to hold on to her wrist. She struggles against his grip briefly before she pulls away. Her skin screams red when she does.

She inhales sharply. He sees her mouth move silently, counting to ten, before she faces him again. “Sorry. I… I just can’t. Not right now. Maybe later? When we’re both calm.”

She finds her discarded clothes, starts shoving them on her body one by one without a single word uttered between them. Soon they’re at the door. Ochako is tying her shoelaces as quickly as she can, pointedly facing away from him.

He gathers his courage. “Ochako.”

“Yeah?” She doesn’t look up at him.

The air is suddenly cold in his lungs when he lets it go. “We… don’t have to keep on dating.”

That makes her turn her head to look over her shoulder.

He can’t meet her eyes, though. “If you have other things on your mind.” Other people. “I understand. We can call this off.”

She puts a hand over the doorknob, pausing thoughtfully.

He wants so badly to hold her, to keep her within the threshold. It’s painful being alone, and even more painful now that he’s aware of how his apartment will feel without her in it. 

Instead, he tells her, “It’s about time I faced my problems on my own, anyway.”

Another pregnant pause, one where he’s too aware of how the room grows colder with every passing second. She turns her head, chestnut hair swishing in a way that he won’t see again.

“We’ll talk later,” is all she says, before disappearing behind the closed door.

 *

 Ochako plows through the two weeks that follow that morning in the best way she can--working herself to the bone until she has nothing to do but collapse on a heap on the floor and snooze away until her next shift.

They… don’t talk.

She stares at her phone and at the blinking cursor of the LINE App. Shouto’s last good night message stares back at her like a cold relic. The weeks of silence stretch out to infinity. Whoever said that time makes anything better was fuckin’ wrong.

She still doesn’t know what to say. She missed her chance. If they didn't get carried away--if she wasn't so desperate to feel anything else--

But he’s silent on his end as well. In the hospital, when they see each other, they lock eyes and it’s always heavy but always quiet. They don’t try to eat together anymore or even converse in public. Shouto has stopped offering her rides to her apartment. She volunteers for procedures every chance she gets, as long as it isn’t neurosurgery, and the other nurses have noticed.

They say nothing about it except exchange smug, knowing glances with each other. Mina frequently alternates between giving those people death glares and giving Ochako concerned ones. She doesn’t say anything though, because Ochako doesn’t say anything.

She seems to know enough, though. Her and Eijirou, because no matter what her shift is one or the other is always there to take her home, looking both ways to see if anyone is following them. Ochako wonders if Shouto has told them anything, and how much if he did, but she’s too ashamed to ask anything.

Her phone chimes incessantly, but she knows it isn’t him. They need to talk, but it isn’t like before. There’s an impassable wall between their hearts and their mouths.

Her apartment is cold.

Nothing changes.

 *

  Shindo Yo (1843H): hey Uraraka-san? Are you free right now?

Shindo Yo (1911H): ah, i dont mean anything bad i promise~

Shindo Yo (1911H): u n Todoroki-san got nothhn 2 worry bout

Shindo Yo (1912H): i promise im not bein creepy

Shindo Yo (1913H): i just noticed… ur rly stressed lately arent u (๑•﹏•)

Shindo Yo (1914H): if ur not busy! Come with me for drinks Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Shindo Yo (1916H): i know u arent good at drinking so its ok if u just have a milkshake or sth i’ll take care of all the beers n shit σ(≧ε≦ｏ)

Me (1916H): ok

Shindo Yo (1917H): and ill treat u of course, theres good burgers in the place im thinkin of and a mochi place nearby itll be awesome Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Shindo Yo (1919H): wait

Shindo Yo (1919H): ok?

Shindo Yo (1920H): （＊〇□〇）……！

Me (1921H): yep

Me (1922H): where?

Shindo Yo (1923H): ah wait gimme a moment

Me (1928H): …. Senpai?

Me (1930H): u were kidding werent u

Me (1932H): i knew it. Can u not make jokes like that if u wont do good on em.

Me (1934H): whatever im goin to bed

Shindo Yo (1938H): NOOO dont

Shindo Yo (1938H): sorry for not replying i was all messed up from patrol so i took a shower right here in the agency!!! Am putting on pants rn!

Shindo Yo (1939H): ten minutes! Ill pick u up in ten minutes!!!

Me (1942H): um, ,,,,ok

Me (1943H): we can just meet wherever u know

Me (1943H): just let me know where

Shindo Yo (1945H): well… i wanted to pick u up but if u like that better

Me (1946H): yep

Shindo Yo (1948H): ok then :)

Shindo Yo (1949H): Meathead Bar, near Kiyashi Ward, 30 mins!!!!

Me (1951H): eh

Shindo Yo (1952H): Too far? Like i said i can pick u up

Me (1953H): no its ok. Just… havent been to that place in a while, isnt that near the red light district

Shindo Yo (1955H): haha nah its fine

Shindo Yo (1956H): i know the owner. And ur gonna be with a pro so dont worry bout sleazebags

Me (1958H):...

Me (2000H): ok

Shindo Yo (2001H): yay!!! Ill see u chako-chan!

Shindo Yo (2002H): dont be late ok or else ill cry •(◐﹏◐)•

Me (2005H): ok ill see u soon yo-senpai

Shindo Yo (2006H): !!!!! (●♡∀♡)

Shindo Yo (2007H): ok!!! See u! omw!!!

 *

 She enters the Meathead Bar exactly thirty minutes later. The place only has a few people scattered about, maybe because it’s so early. It’s easy to spot Shindo speaking to a sour-faced purple-haired bartender at one end of the bar. The moment she enters, he catches her eye and waves her over.

“Hey, you,” he says with a big smile. “Don’t you clean up nice.”

She didn’t want to put so much effort into dressing up nicely tonight and had almost decided on wearing Kyoka’s band shirt underneath a plaid shirt and jeans… until she realized that the last time she made an effort was to meet the Todorokis. Somehow that was enough to ditch that outfit in favor of a pink dress that showed off her arms and the curve of her hips, and put a leather jacket over that.

She shrugs and takes note of his outfit too--a dark button-down, two buttons undone at the top and sleeves rolled up to show off his toned arms; skinny jeans and sneakers; glimmering silver on one ear, around his neck, on his watch.

He looks as flashy as ever. She sees people looking over their shoulder to drink in the sight of him--whether for his looks or because he’s the rising pro-hero Seismic remains to be known. “You look pretty awful yourself, senpai.”

“Ouch.” He makes a show of being hurt. “Ah, wait, let me introduce you to Meathead’s owner! So this is Shishikura Seiji, a meat specialist and all-around nice guy--”

He doesn’t look that nice based on the way his eyes look down on her, but okay--

“And this is Uraraka Ochako,” he says, his eyes darkening a little, “my ex-girlfriend from a decade or so ago.”

“Hrm,” grumbles Shishikura, with a sardonic twist of his mouth. “This isn’t one of those corny things where you’re actually introducing your wife, you bastard?”

“Oh no, he really is my ex,” Ochako says before Shindo can get another word in. “I totally hate this guy.”

Shindo makes another shot-to-the-heart gesture, while Shishikura snorts. “Good for you. So, Shindo, let me leave this potentially awkward situation now so I can get you your food and alcohol.”

“Right. Thanks Shishkabob.”

“Say that again and I’ll kick you out of the premises,” the purple-haired man says without humor, before disappearing from plain sight.

“So… that wasn’t too awkward, I hope,” Shindo laughs, as he gestures for Ochako to take a seat.

“Nope, just awkward enough.” She obliges and arranges herself on the seat. Her hands go to her phone almost on instinct to check her messages.

He notices and raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, I guess you have to tell your boyfriend that you got here safe, huh?”

There’s a message from Mina, asking her if she got home safe, plus a selfie of her puckering up. Another from Aoyama, who texted something in French that she needs Google Translate to decode.

There isn’t anything from Shouto, but she expected that.

“... yeah, I should,” she says, sending a heart emoji to Mina. After which, she locks her phone and puts it face-down at the bottom of her bag, where she won’t reach it so easily.

When she looks up, Shindo has his hand under his chin, staring at her with a knowing twinkle in his eye. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he says, as Shishikura silently gives them two shots of whiskey on the rocks. “So… Nurse Uraraka, how have you been? Has life-work balance been any easier for you?”

There isn’t any life-work balance to begin with. Ochako reckons that the components of her life have fallen off the scale ages ago. “It’s not bad. I’m sure it isn’t as bad as yours, with the upsurge of villains and all.”

He laughs. “You said it. I worked another double shift again today, you know. Been on the job since five in the morning.”

She whistles low. “Insane.”

And here he is, having drinks with her, with more energy than he knew what to do with. “Hey, it’s a calling, just like yours. We both just gotta do what we gotta do, right?” He sips the whiskey without wincing and leans forward. “So, Uraraka, have you been doing what you have to do?”

Besides running away from her stupid feelings?

There’s a gleam of curiosity in his eyes, and something underneath. Ochako knows him too well to sense that he’s digging for something else.

So she takes a thoughtful sip of her whiskey, also without wincing, and looks at him in the eyes. “I do what I can, senpai. But there’s not a lot of excitement on my end, so I’d much rather hear you talk tonight.”

The attempt at deflection registers with him, if the shine in his eyes is anything to go by. Still, he laughs it off. “Well, if you say so~ you know, today they asked for back-up in the Naruhata ward--man, that place is messed up, maybe there’s something in the water there…”

Soon, Shindo fills the air between them with his interesting stories. He’s really good at engaging the audience, and even Ochako allows herself to be genuinely interested in the things he’s saying.

When Shishikura comes back with meatballs, she asks for five shots of vodka.

 *

 The night goes on, and so does Ochako. By this time she’s finished the first glass of whiskey and the vodka. Shindo has ordered a shitty bottle of rum for them to finish. They’re halfway there when she tries to stand to leave for the restroom.

Tries, being the keyword, because she couldn’t figure out how to get down from the barstool. Does she go left, or right? Which foot goes down first? Where does she put her hands to support herself? She probably can’t do it on the table because it’ll float all the way to the ceiling and they’d have to pay for damages--

“Chako-chan!” Shindo’s guffaw is louder than necessary. He’s probably had one shot too many too. “You’re not okay anymore, aren’t you?”

“I’m good,” she says. She experimentally tries to put her left foot down. When it’s on solid ground, she puts the right one after, and stands up--

And stumbles, face-first, into something solid.

“Whoa there,” Shindo says, wrapping his arms around her, pressing her closer to his chest. “Chako, come on, you can barely stand, I don’t know what you’re trynna do but you’re gonna hurt yourself like this--”

He smells like pepper and spice, and it should smell good. She can’t help but inhale the scent of him as her fingers curl over the fabric of his shirt, struggles to keep herself upright.

“S--senpai--”

Stupidly though, all she’s able to think of is how different it smells from Shouto.

Ugh, where the hell did that come from? Why does her mind work like this, why does he randomly rise in her memory when she should be focused on her balance and stepping away from Shindo and not destroying Shishikura-san’s property--

“Chako-chan?”

The fabric in front of her face is suddenly damp. She wonders if it’s just his sweat or if she accidentally spilled his drink on him, or--

“Hey.” He pulls her face off of him and stares into her eyes. Gosh, his eyes are so dark, it’s so hard to read them, they’re so different, different, and fuck don’t go there, he’s telling you something important, “... wrong? Tell me, okay? Talk to me…”

Her head spins when she wills the words to get out. “No… it’s okay…”

“Huh?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. The alcohol is all over her head now. She should stop this shit, hasn’t this happened before, getting ass-faced in front of the wrong fuckin’ person and having to rely on someone else to take her home--can’t she do something right, for once? If she wasn’t such a weak-willed coward and told Shouto how she really felt, then--

“What?”

Her mouth closes, and she realizes from the croak of her voice that she just finished speaking.

“The wrong fuckin’ person, huh.” Shindo sighs. He pushes her at a distance from him, but doesn’t let her go. “Right. Well… this just got way past awkward enough.”

“... yeah. Sorry.”

All the words die in her throat. Somehow the two of them gain enough sobriety from that, and climb up back in their seats. An unbearable silence stretches between the two of them, before Shindo speaks up again.

“That stings a lot, Uraraka-san, but it’s not like I didn’t deserve it.” He pushes a glass of cold water to her and urges her to drink it before continuing. “I mean, from the way things ended between us, ‘the wrong fuckin’ person’ is probably the nicest thing you can call me.”

Another bout of silence. Her head’s hazy, but she doesn’t miss the visible struggle in Shindo’s usually unreadable eyes. One of his hands moves as if to seek hers, but he stops it midway.

“... Chako,” he inhales, uncharacteristically despondent. “I didn’t fight for you. I’m really sorry.”

The apology she’s been waiting for, ten years in the making. Her eyes widen in disbelief.

“... I didn’t think I’d regret letting you go as much as I did. So when I saw you again, after all this time, I thought I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try to get you back, you know? Even if I had to play dirty, even if you already had--I mean, have Todoroki. Am I wrong?”

But why doesn’t she feel as vindicated as she should?

She isn’t able to answer, though, and it gets him interested. He sits up a little straighter, forcing some clarity in his gaze. “This is why I thought I had a chance. I wasn’t sure where you and Todoroki stood.”

She swallows down a gulp of water. That makes two of them.

“Yikes, you two. You aren’t big talkers, aren’t you. I know, I got that vibe from the one time he wanted to ice me in a public hospital lobby just for talking to you.”

She chokes on her water. “Wh… what? You’re kidding!”

Despite herself, a smile is forming on her lips. He groans in frustration, because really, that’s what it takes for her to laugh again? “Just for tonight, I’m giving up on you, okay? But tomorrow, fuck Todoroki, I’ll keep on bugging you ‘til you’re sure of what you want for yourself.”

She… doesn’t know how to feel about that. But she agrees that she needs to have a good talk with herself before she even thinks about another person.

Thanks to the glass of water, it’s easier to stand up. She’s woozy, but at least she’s got enough sobriety to walk unassisted across the bar and out to the street, where Shindo hails a cab for her.

“How about you?” she asks, when he closes the door after her with the window rolled down.

He pokes her nose with a finger in response. “Let me get wasted a little more here, yeah? I mean, you just broke this innocent hero’s heart.”

“Idiot.”

“Agreed.” He signals the driver to go. Soon, the car lurches forward, and Ochako watches as Shindo’s silhouette gets smaller and smaller and eventually, disappears behind the doors.

Thankfully, she gets to her tiny apartment complex safely, and is sober enough to walk the short distance to her door. When she stumbles in, shoes kicked off and body flopped on the couch, she allows herself to stare at the ceiling, in a beat. Two beats.

So, Uraraka, have you been doing what you have to do?

She takes a deep breath to steady herself. She fishes out her phone, taps a message in it without thinking too hard on it for once, and presses send.

Her phone lights up with a message as soon as the message is delivered.

  Me (0032H): hey, so about last time, im sorry. if ur not busy lets talk for real this time

Todoroki Shouto (0032H): Can we see each other soon?

 Oh.

[miraculousagentsofkrypton]

A Wish Come True

“Felix thought it'd just be an ordinary day fighting akumas with his superhero partner Ladybug. He did not expect the consequences of the one magical blast he failed to stop.

Every wish comes with an price.” 

Here on AO3.

Felix arrived for class precisely five minutes early and headed straight for his seat in the last row, opening up a book. He didn’t look up from it until Nathaniel plopped down beside him, sketchbook already open to an unfinished drawing of Paris’ own heroine, Ladybug. He ignored his warm cheeks at the sight of his partner and greeted his desk-mate politely before returning his gaze to the book.

Mrs. Bustier had just started class when the door slammed open loudly and a dark haired girl burst in, and tripped abruptly, scattering papers across the front of the classroom.

She scrambled to retrieve them. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Bustier! There was an accident at the bakery this morning and my parents needed me to help clean it up.”

Mrs Bustier sighed resignedly, used to the girls antics. “Alright Marinette, please do try harder to make a less… spectacular entrance next time.”

The girl blushed and headed for her seat. She looked up and waved happily at him when she caught his eye. He rolled his eyes. That girl. She looked ecstatic when she saw anyone. It was a miracle she didn’t die of a heart attack from so much excitement all the time. It’s not that he disliked her per se, she often did kind things for him, such as knitting him a scarf for his birthday, but she was just so overwhelming and passionate about every single thing she did. He almost admired her for it.  

Her best friend Alya on the other hand; he did not appreciate her passion at all. Marinette, although a naturally curious person, knew where to draw the line on interfering and sticking her nose into things. Alya had attempted to follow him when his transformation was about to drop multiple times. Each time he’d had to come up with a more and more creative way to avoid her. It was becoming quite the challenge.

It was nearing lunchtime when the akuma alarm sounded, sending everyone running out of the classroom to see the situation. The eerie quiet shocked him. Most akumas brought chaos and destruction, but what he saw were students collapsed all around him. All of them had horrified looks on their faces. He didn’t want to know what kind of nightmares they were facing. With no time to waste, he took off running for a safe place to transform. He ended up in the boys bathroom and found it empty.

“You ready Felix?” Plagg asked, grinning, after flying into view.

“Absolutely. Plagg, claws out!” Felix replied, grinning right back in the rush of transformation. He’d get to see his Lady in action again.

He extended his baton and sent himself shooting out the bathroom window. He headed for the roof of the school and found Ladybug already waiting for him.

“Good even’ Ladybug! What do we have today?”

Ladybug smiled gently at his greeting. “It’s still technically morning Chat Noir. And I’m not sure. It doesn’t look like a nice one, that’s for sure. I’d guess it causes nightmares or something from the looks of the victims.”

She opened up her yo-yo, and typed something. “There’s been sightings a few blocks east of here.” She snapped it shut, and swung it out, already on the move. “Come on slowpoke, we got an akuma to catch.”

As they headed in that direction, they noticed that not everyone was collapsed anymore. Some were starting to sit up, and many were sobbing. They found a trail of sludge heading north from the last spotting. Well, at least he wouldn’t be too hard to find. Ladybug stopped to help an overwhelmed and hysterical woman sit up. She whispered a few comforting words to the woman before looking back up at him, her face grieved. “What is he doing to these people?”

Felix could only stare wide eyed around him at the suffering. “I don’t know.”

It was very easy to tell when they found him. The akuma looked like a soldier, dressed up in a torn uniform, covered in dirt and blood, a trail of dark sludge behind him.

He was shouting. “I am PTSD! No more will people judge those with PTSD and call them weak or crazy! Don’t just tell me to get over it! I’ll force you to relive your worst memory and see how you like it!”

He had a rifle that shot out energy blasts. Anyone that was hit collapsed on the spot.

Chat Noir spoke up, “Oh. Not just nightmares then.” This was so much worse.

“We can’t let him harm any more people. We need to get this over with fast. Lucky charm!”

In a sparkle of magic, a vest fell into her hands, a bulletproof vest. Well that didn’t need any explaining. She stuck it out for him. “Put this on Chat Noir.”

Wait what.

“Me?! No, you put it on. You’re the one we need to make sure doesn’t get hit.”

She rolled her eyes. “I have a plan. And as we saw, the effects of his blasts aren’t permanent. They are memories. I don’t think I have any seriously traumatic memories in my past anyway. The worst I might get is an embarrassing moment at school.” Her eyes shifted away from his at that. Liar. “Now put it on Chat.”Her fierce gaze never wavered.

“Fine.” he sighed, then he pointed at her to emphasize his point, “But, you better keep yourself safe.” He took the vest. “Now what’s this plan of yours.”

She smirked, proud to have convinced him. “Its relatively simple. You distract him while I sneak up undetected. A tried and true method. With this vest, you don’t have to worry about being easily taken down if he manages to hit you.”

She patted his shoulder, and jumped down into a dark alley, behind the akuma. Felix jumped out in front of him. “Hey General!! Whatcha doing out here?”

PTSD’s head snapped towards him. “Chat Noir.” He leveled his rifle at the superhero. “Lets see what kind of horrors you have in your past.”

The shot raced by as Chat gracefully dodged. “Is that all you got?!” He leaned on his staff, yawning and feigning boredom. The akuma’s face darkened in anger, but before he could charge Chat, a yo-yo wrapped around his hat and snatched it from his head. Ladybug quickly tore it in half. Nothing happened. She groaned. “No. Seriously?! I was so sure that time.”

She looked up just in time to see the blast coming right at her. There was no time for anyone to react. She went down like a rock.

“Ladybug!” His vision went red. “Oh you’re in for it now jerk.” Baton at the ready, he charged. PTSD turned around and attempted to shoot him as well, but the blasts bounced off the vest harmlessly. The akuma started backing off wearily as he saw that his attacks were useless. Chat didn’t even hesitate and his baton hit him solidly in the head. The akuma went flying back. Chat scanned the villain for where the akuma could be. His medal. Nothing else stood out. He snatched it and broke it before the villain could recover.  The akuma fluttered out. Crap. How was he going to trap it until Ladybug woke up. There was an empty flower pot on a window at ground level. That would work. He dashed over, grabbed it and quickly slammed it over the akuma, trapping it temporarily on the road. Now to more important things, Ladybug.

Kneeling beside her, he watched worriedly as her eyes slowly opened. He waited for her eyes to focus on him, but they didn’t. Her eyes gazed right through him. Her face was white, and she looked to be in shock.

“Ladybug, hey, look at me. It’s ok. Whatever it was, it was just a memory. Everything’s fine.”

Her absent silence scared him more than if she had been hysterical like that lady. What on earth had she re-lived?

“Chaton?” She blinked, eyes finally focusing on him. “Oh.” He didn’t know what to make of the disappointment that leaked into that word.

Felix attempted to smile comfortingly. She looked so lost. “Hey there Bug.” Her eyes shifted away, suspiciously wet. She didn’t move for a few minutes, and he let her recover at her own pace.

“The Akuma!” She jerked up suddenly, startling him. Her breathing was ragged.

“It’s fine! I have it right there. No rush.” He pointed at the upside down flower pot.

She staggered to her feet anyway, drawing out her yo-yo. She knocked the pot over, letting the butterfly fly out before she quickly captured it and purified it. Her cute catchphrase was starkly missing. “I got to go. Bye Chat Noir.” She wasted no time flinging her yo-yo out and swinging away, leaving him no opportunity to say anything to her. His heart felt dead in his chest. What had this akuma done to her?

----------

Felix tossed and turned all night, worried about his partner. She had not been looking good when she’d swung away. He skipped breakfast that morning, too stressed to have much of an appetite, and quickly kissed his mother on the cheek on the way out the door. No need to worry her.

The loud and chaotic bustle of the school caused him to flinch as he walked in. He speed walked at fast as possible to escape to the quiet classroom, expecting it to be empty like it usually was when he arrived. But, much to his great surprise, he found Marinette Dupain-Cheng already sitting in her seat. She looked terrible. She had giant bags under her eyes, and her hair hung limp, her classic pigtails nowhere in sight. She just stared absently at the desk, eyes faraway. Marinette was never not doing anything. Her passionate energy filled everything she did, and he’d often see her fulfilling some kind of creative task. He also always saw her beside Alya, but the blogger was nowhere in sight.

“Marinette?” he opened softly, “Are you ok?”

She started, but instead of looking up to look at him, her face crumpled, her eyes purposely looking away from him, and a sob broke through.  Her head hit the desk, arms covering it, and she broke down.

His hands fluttered uselessly at his sides. What could he do? He came up to her and patted her back.

“There there.”

Her hand slapped his away. “ Go-go away Felix,” she said, her voice thick with tears.

He stepped back. Oh . He wrapped his arms around himself as he continued onto his own seat. What use could anyone use of his comfort. Why had he thought he could help her, that she would even want his help.

By the time anyone else arrived, Marinette had stopped sobbing and had pulled herself back together, sort of. It was still apparent to anyone who came in that something was up. When Alya showed up she tried to help, but Marinette just ignored everyone, eyes never leaving her desk the whole class.

This continued for the rest of the week. Marinette spent most of everyday stuck in her head, looking increasingly depressed, and noticeably not getting enough sleep. Ladybug was distracted and looking worse every fight as well. She never bantered with him anymore, and just tried to get the fight over with as quick as possible before zipping out, time limit or not. She wouldn’t talk to him unless absolutely needed. He’d thought they were partners, that she’d trust him to help her get through whatever this was.

It was exactly 7 days since the PTSD incident, and he’d just arrived at the scene of the new villain of the day, Exterminator. Chat stayed out of the akuma’s view, waiting for Ladybug to arrive, but staying close enough to interfere if really needed. The bug hating villain was ranting about his awful plans for destroying all bugs, including Ladybug, when a red blur zipped in and landed right in front of them. Chat quietly let himself down near them.

“JUST STOP!”  The polka dotted superheroine was visibly shaking. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and tears poured down her face. Both Chat Noir and the Exterminator just froze, staring at her “Hawkmoth, I know why you’re doing this! And I get it! I really do. I-” She took a deep shaky breath. “I want the same thing you do, just as much.”

Chat Noir gaped. WHAT?!? What was happening?!

A purple mask had appeared in front of Exterminators face. “You know nothing little girl.” His voice boomed across the street.

“I know everything. I know how much pain you are in,” her voice cracked, ”I know because I feel it too. I know what you’ve done, what you’re trying to undo. But this isn’t right!"

She walked towards the villain Hawkmoth was occupying, gaze fierce and determined. She took the villains face in her hands, directing his gaze right at her.

“Adrien wouldn’t want this .”

Hawkmoth staggered back. “What?!” He snarled, “You remember. How do you remember?!”

Who was Adrien? Why did he matter so much?

“PTSD made me relive my worst memory. What could be worse?”

“Then you know why I have to do this.”

“No. Adrien would never want this. The power of the miraculous always enacts a price. You have no say over what that price is. Next time it might be Felix.” She gestured over to Chat. She knew who he was? Why would he matter to Hawkmoth?!

“Maybe it will be your wife again. It will just keep taking, and taking, and taking. Your never going to be satisfied! Just stuck in a never ending loop of pain and destruction, and I know Adrien would never want that. I- I miss him so much my entire soul aches. I miss my Chaton, my partner, my soulmate.” Felix could feel his heart tear into two. Her Chaton. He was her Chat, her partner, and, he had hoped, her soulmate. Who was this guy that was so much more important than him?

“Give it up Hawkmoth. It’s over. There’s no going back. Adrien’s gone. Instead of raging over the son you’ve lost, why don’t you try focusing on the son you’ve gained, the one that came as a consequence, because you’re making the same mistakes with him as you did Adrien.”

She wiped at her tears angrily. “He’s not the same person. We both know that. He’ll never replace Adrien. He’ll never be Adrien. He is his own person. But he is good. And he is real.” Ladybug came over and wrapped an arm around Chat. Felix had no idea what was happening, but his heart dropped to the floor. “Just stop. We can’t keep doing this anymore.”

Hawkmoth, as Exterminator, collapsed sobbing. “I just wanted to fix my family.”

Ladybug started crying freely as well, grief clogging her voice as she replied, “I know.”

She quietly padded over to the sobbing supervillain, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, “You need to let him go and focus on what you have left, before they slip away from you too.”

A white light washed over the victim, and left behind a confused citizen as a purified butterfly flew away.

Both heroes followed its movement with their eyes as Ladybug softly whispered for the last time, “Bye bye little butterfly.” She then collapsed in on herself and sobbed long and hard in the middle of the street. Felix had many questions, and he feared the answers, but that could wait, and for the moment he just knelt down beside her and held her.

[sin-like-me]

My Dearest Reader,

Isn't it funny when and where inspiration can strike? Those moments which catch us by surprise are always pleasant and fleeting.

The plot for this particular fic was one such moment. One line in a song was all it took, and the following was born. It is absolutely silly and was quite a bit of fun to write.

Be forewarned: In my daily life I wield curses like an art form, thus this particular work is a bit on the heavier side of four letter words. /laugh. Also, all mistakes are mine alone.

So what are you waiting for? Dive in, read on, get lost.. have an adventure.

Yours Always, C. Horizons

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682656

Disillusionment

“You’ll find it if you follow me… Oh the Bliss, Oh the Bliss…”

Click.

“Man, I told you none of that Peggie shit.”

You laugh and toss a look over your shoulder, “Every single time we liberate one of these damned cultist’s vehicles all the radio spews is ‘Peggie shit.’ You do realized that I have zero control over that?” Arching an eyebrow, arm resting on the steering wheel, you turn back and face the darkness consideringly. “Besides, the Bliss one is not so bad really… hell, even Set Those Sinners Free and Oh John are catchy come to think of it. Where is your objectivity Shark?”

Flicking on the truck’s headlights, a grin tugs blithely at the corners of your mouth. It seems as if prodding a response from Charlemagne was fast becoming one of your favorite distractions. Behind you the sound of a slight shift on polyester was all the warning provided before you felt a gentle smack on the back of your head.

“Those fucks have no taste in the finer musical types available for consumption.”

“Like disco?” you shoot back, turning the truck towards Drubman’s Marina with a smirk. The look of warning you caught in the rearview was just enough to have you gracefully back off.. for the moment. “Alright, fair enough. I get where you’re coming from Sharky. I mean, what I wouldn’t give for some metal or hell, even real blues. Wanna place bets that Daddy Broseph forbade anything with a serious beat? It’s all acoustic guitars, twangs, and dull rhythms.. You can just picture them singing by fires, high as kites, and holding hands.”

Sharky snorted a guffaw, “Kum-fuckin’-baya. No shit.. With their very own Mary Jane to head it all. Free drugs yo.”

You giggled and rounded a turn with precision, velocity held at a steady 60 MPH. Speed limits? Please. You are the law.

A strangled gasp reached your ears from the backseat. “Ya know Andretti, if I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t let you drive. You scare the shit outta me.”

“Mmm, yes, but have you died Shark?” Your pointed gaze met his in the mirror.

“Not yet…

“Exactly.”

“... though a heart attack seems likely.”

You chose to ignore that little barb, “Anyway, begging backseat drivers can’t be choosy now can they?”

Whatever response he would have tossed your way was cut short.

“FUCK CHICA!! LOOK OUT!!!”

Your foot stomped the brakes, the immediate cessation of movement kicking dust and gravel behind you as the bed of the truck skidded for purchase. Going from the artful navigation of a mountain pass to fishtailing abruptly had not been on your list of things to do tonight, if ever. As a matter of fact that particular stunt would have fallen almost at the top of a do not fucking do this list, right under the commandment: do NOT sleep with any of the Seeds. (Why you even needed a list to remind you not to do that should have been alarming on its own.)

Heartbeat faltering to an almost complete stop, you turn in our seat to check on your best friend.

“Shark!! You okay?!”

He nodded, a bit dazed, and you turned to search the rearview for what caused his panic. Nothing.. Nada… zero. No animal, no pothole, no Peggie.. Nothing. You unbuckled, climbing down from the truck with Sharky right behind you. Maybe you hit something? No, even that seemed off to you considering that you were pretty damn sure hitting something would have caused one hell of a thump. You glanced quizzically at a decidedly confused pyro, eyebrow quirked.

“Man.. I know I saw Faith standing in the road. Right, fucking, there…” he pointed to the side of the lane where the curve dropped down to a steep slope.

Nothing seemed to have been disturbed, the tall grass waving eerily in the illumination from the headlights.

“Mhm. Did you happen to spend too much time in a field of those flowers?”

It was a valid question. Two vast Bliss fields had surrounded the entrance to a random prepper’s stash Sharky had managed to catch wind of. Working to gain entry was not the easiest of tasks and it had taken longer than you would have liked. Unfortunately, those damn things were potent to most people.

You stooped to check all tires, leaving Charlamagne to stare in confusion and a little embarrassment.

“Nah man, you know I ain’t into that shit.”

Trying to lighten the mood you offer a genuine smile and a warm tone, “Right Mr. “higher than a giraffe in Jamaica.”

The change in your voice and demeanor seemed to work. Sharky’s face lost its pinched look and his shoulders dropped back into their relaxed position. His eyes met yours, and you winked reassuringly as you stood up.

Everything as a-okay.

Heart rate back to its normal tread you turned on a booted heel, breeze caressing your skin, when an unexpected cloud of powder stung your eyes and made you cough. You waved your hand frantically in front of your face in hopes of clearing your vision, annoyance thrumming through your body.

‘Every.Single.Time!!!’

“Welcome to the Bliss,” a saccharin voice lilted, giggling musically.

Well fuck. Everything had been going so well too.

‘Sharky!’

This was the first thing you thought once your vision cleared and you were able to suck in a breath of fresh air. Once more you were in a field of Bliss, but this time Faith did not have the advantage. As luck would have it she chose a particular field that was close to your original destination: Drubman’s. Now you just needed to find Sharky and get the hell out of here.

‘Faith is in for a little bit of a surprise.’

“Charlemagne…. Victor….Boshaw!!!”

Your voice was clear, steady, and loud. It was dark, the white flowers seeming to glow in the moonlight, and all around you was silence.. Frozen, ears straining to catch the slightest of sounds, you finally heard a small shuffle to your right. It had to be him.

‘Where was a flashlight when you needed one?’

Crouching low, you slowly made you way to where the sound originated.

“You have to have Faith….” breathy and trying for innocent, Faith’s voice echoed around you coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Her obvious facade set your teeth on edge, grating like nails on a chalkboard.

You didn’t have time for this bullshit.

Hitting a small clearing amidst the seemingly endless fields of cloying flowers, you almost fell right on top of Sharky. He was sprawled out on his back, making… a fucking Bliss angel while giggling?!

“Chica! There you are. Man this shit is good! I had no idea.”

“Right, well, you know, that’s the concentrated powder for you. Tinkerbell has her own special stash. Pure I’m sure.”

Sharky sat up laughing so hard tears were rolling down his cheeks, “Tinkerbell. I like that. Think this shit will make me fly if I believe hard enough?”

You hooked your arm through one of his, tugging up none too gently. “Nooooo… No I do not and if you start singing John’s praises I will leave you here.”

He gracelessly rose to his feet, swaying unsteadily. “ Oh John! BOLD AND BRAVE!”

“I mean it Shark. I will leave you here.”

He snickered and sneezed, stumbling into your side, “Man no fun. Don’t kill the buzz or Tinkerbell will be one pissed off pixie. Speakin’ of… where is she?”

“Ever heard the saying speak of the devil and he doth appear? Yeah, don’t do that.” you muttered close to his ear, eyes darting around expectantly.

Of course it was too little too late.

A ghostly titter announced her presence before she stepped out from a nearby patch of flowers. Walking was much less impressive than when she grew wings and flew. Either Faith was falling down on the job, or this was your new reaction to the Bliss: disillusionment. By now you knew your role and what was expected of you, so you shrugged into the performance like it was an old jacket.

‘And, ACTION!’

Your eyes widened and took on a dream like quality as you turned to face Faith, staring in wonder.

“Woah man.. She’s like… glowing and …kinda hot.”

You blinked slowly, fighting the urge to elbow Sharky in the ribs. Oh, how you wanted to try to wake him from his fascination with Cocaine Jane here.

Faith smiled benevolently, yet it never quite reached her eyes. “I know you have heard stories about me. That I am a Liar… a manipulator..”

Sharky jumped to attention, “No way man. No way! You’re too nice to be any of that shit.”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Faith’s smile altered, the edges becoming hardened and sharp. No longer were her lips inviting others to share in a moment of affected friendship. It seemed as if she did not like her little speech being interrupted. To her credit she kept up the act, reaching out and taking Sharky’s hands.

“Thank you Charlemagne.” she breathed.

It was as if the sun had come out and the Heavens had opened based on his facial expression. You tamped down the hostility and strove for blazed as best you could.

“Hey, Shark, you know, there is something I have always wondered…Faith, how do you keep in touch with the Seeds? I mean, you never carry a radio…’

Sharky blinked, then cracked that smirk you were familiar with. His curiosity was piqued.

‘Come on man, focus Shark…’

“Got a point there Dep.” he conceded as he cocked his head to the side, studying the Herald, “How DO you talk to them?”

Faith, thrown by the turn in conversation, skipped back dropping her hold on Sharky.

“E...excuse me?”

Taking a step towards her, you reach out a hand and gently tug at the hair framing her face.

‘Time to lay it on thick..’

“Is it ESP? Or are you able to send a signal like a radio?”

She leaned her head back, hair falling from your grasp.

“I don’t see…”

You almost laughed at the role reversal. Faith had become the skittish prey.

Leaning in you raised your voice mockingly, its lilt covering the small distance, “John are you there???... Jacob??....”

Sharky piped in, “Jingleheimer Schmidt?!”

‘Yes! There he was!’

You busted into a genuinely surprised laugh, before recovering your focus.

“Can they hear me Faith? If they can’t, think you could pass on a message? You know, Jacob is pretty fucking stunning. I would love a little of his time… well, that is, if you could arrange it.”

Faith took another bare-footed step backwards. This was not at all what she was expecting.

“Jacob?!” she spluttered in fear and incomprehension.

Sharky cut her off again, “Are you fuckin’ serious chica? JACOB?!”

You giggled, “What? He’s interesting. I mean if you prefer, John is also rather sexy.”

Shark was starting to look a bit green around the gills and Faith was gaping now. “Dep, have you finally lost it?! I mean damn, how high are you?”

You almost laughed as Faith nodded in agreement.

“You mean you’ve never noticed Faith?”

You took another step towards her, backing her up even further… good. Almost to the edge of the Bliss field.

To be honest, you were rather surprised that she had not caught on to your act. You didn’t feel like a particularly good stage performer so every action, every word, seemed rather transparent and exaggerated. You studied the woman-child before you.

That Faith was close to panicking was evident in her every facial tick and what would prey do once cornered? Whatever it had to. Thus, once you saw her reach into a hidden pocket of her dress you knew what was coming: more of her special powder. Murmuring a quick prayer of thanks to whichever deity made sure she was not being particularly observant, you grinned.

“Looking for this?”

Her eyes darted to your outstretched hand only to find your fingers clasped around a small, muslin bag. HER bag to be exact.

Sharky was finally starting to sober up. Each step further from the Bliss diminished its hold and that damned powder was wearing off. In your friend’s favor, he managed to put two and two together rather quickly.

“Fuck this shit. Punch that bitch.”

You smirked as you hefted the bags weight in your palm, looking down at it as if in deep consideration.

‘Fuck it.’

Slipping your thumb and pointer finger into the bag, you pushed the drawstring apart. Debating exactly how much to use, you shrugged and threw the whole damn thing into Faith’s face. Her reaction was instantaneous and hilarious. If you had had the time, you would have deeply appreciated the irony as she gasped in shock. Her coughing fit coupled with the desperation to clear her field of vision was delicious. Alas, these opportunities to play the badass so rarely presented themselves. You were not about to waste it.

With every last ounce of rancor you could muster, you stepped forward once again. Absently noting how the green powder had settled onto the front of that ridiculous white dress, you stooped down to her ear, making sure to enunciate every single word...

“Welcome to the Bliss… bitch.”

You drew back your fist and landed a very satisfying punch to the bridge of her nose. That simple 7 to 9 pounds of pressure completely demolished the cartilage. Faith fell to her knees, a small keen escaping her throat and you wasted no time. Grabbing Sharky’s forearm you dashed into the nearby shelter of darkened trees.

“Holy shit! You actually did it!! You punched Faith… in the face…”

You smirked, still dragging him step for step behind you. The more distance between the two of you and the Bliss Queen, the better.

You had no choice but to stop short as Sharky fell to his knees. Gut-wrenching snorts of amusement wracked his whole body and he seemed unable to breathe.

“Then you actually said “Welcome to the Bliss, Bitch..” like we were in one of those films! Tango and Cash man! I told you!!!! Kickin’ ass….”

“And slayin’ puss.” you finished the quote for him. Hell, if it made him happy, who were you to argue? So, you shrugged and kept picking your way through the fern covered ground, hoping he would keep up.

He did.

“Wait… wait..”

You stopped and turned to raise a brow in curiosity.

“You aren’t high are you??!! That shit didn’t fuck you up! You were able to do too much shit, notice too many details…”

His look of shock morphed into admiration.

“I don’t know why so don’t ask. All I can tell you is that whatever Bliss is, it has never hit me like it has others. Could be it’s as simple as developing some kind of resistance or maybe I was born with some type of immunity. Morphine has never worked either. Hospitals have to give me some astronomical amount simply to take an edge off of pain.”

Shark blinked, “That was either real brave or real stupid.”

“I would venture both.”

He nodded and seemed content to ponder the situation further as the two of you hiked on to Drubman’s Marina. Thirty minutes passed in relative silence when you felt his hand close around your bicep. This time there was no gentle stop, he jerked you into a panicked halt.

“Wait a damn minute! If you weren’t all wigged on the Bliss…  does that mean you actually think that shit about Jacob fucking Seed?!”

Alas, there was only so much that could go your way in one night. It seemed as if hoping he would have forgotten that little bit of information was asking too much. Did you lie behind sarcasm, tell the truth, or simply provide no conclusion and allow him his own? Your mind stumbled over itself in a blind panic and you knew it was time to act on instinct.

Smiling and standing on the tips of your booted toes, you reached up and cupped Sharky’s jaw. It was now or never. Swallowing quickly, you placed your lips against his. It was no more than a moment, a brief press of lips, and you quickly stepped back, dropping your hand back to your side.

‘Fuck.’

That was.. ugh...Well, you didn’t KNOW what that was, but you had no time to reflect.

‘Keep in character!’’

A quick wink into his stunned face, and you turned once more fighting the urge to run. Catching the sound of small waves lapping against a dock, you knew salvation lay ahead.

Hopefully a certain pyro would let all matters drop. His crush on Aunt Adelaide tended to make him forget everything else.

‘Would wonders never cease? Saved by a crass nympho.’

Your musings were cut short when a sudden chirp sounded from your belt. Jumping, you glanced down in surprise. Somehow you had managed to completely forgot about the radio you carried. Its sudden resurrection after hours of silence put you on edge.

“Ohhhhh dep-u-ty… our dearest little sister passed along some rather interesting information. I must say I am rather...flattered.”

Your instincts proved right. This was bad… very bad. John’s honeyed voice dripped down your spine, pooling heavily in your stomach. He was oozing satisfaction and confidence beyond his normal bounds. This did not bode well.

‘That little bitch couldn’t wait to blab!’

Then another, deeper voice cut through the brief silence, “Pup, if you wanted to come home, all you had to do was ask.”

You couldn’t stop the shiver in response to his velvet laced tone, goosebumps breaking out on your arms.

“I’m waiting….”

Jacob… knew. There was no other reasonable assumption.. yet, what was even more screwed up is the simple fact you were tempted. Was it a logical response? No, of course not. The whole idea was absolutely insane.

‘Damn it!! It all came back to bite me in the ass a hell of a lot quicker than I imagined it would.’

“Rook? That you? What’s going on?”

‘Whitehorse?!’

“Guuurrrll what did you say? Tell Adie!!”

Your hand floated above the two-way, debating an answer. Naturally, it was an open channel.

‘Damn, karma is a bitch.’

Sighing you stepped out of the woods and onto the banks of the lake. Sharky was still too caught up in the change in events to do more than stumble towards the marina. Hey, you would take your breaks where you could get ‘em. Looking out over the water you tried to roll the tension out of your shoulders.

This had turned into one gigantic clusterfuck of a day. Was it too late to throw your hands up, tell all and sundry to fuck off and walk away?

A purr kicked the radio on once again and you gaped incredulously at the offending object.

‘Nah, no way that was… Peaches?!’

That was it, the proverbial straw.

“Fuck this shit,” you muttered, unclipping the radio from your belt.

You didn’t spare the damned plastic another look as you wound back and threw it as far as you could. It sank into the depths with a resounding plunk. Far from satisfied, you dove into the cold waters of the lake, swam the short distance to a nearby boatercycle, climbed aboard and took off.

‘Not today you fucks.’

The small blinking light, now settling in at the bottom of the lake, was the only evidence of your little outburst. Over time, that familiar shape would cover with silt, its light fading, burying your secret tantrum with it.

If you couldn’t drown your problems, you would at least outrun them for a day.

[brn1029]

On this date in music history….

July 25th

2014 - Weird Al Yankovic

The pop star parodist, Weird Al Yankovic became the first comedy act to hit the top spot for more than 50 years. Mandatory Fun, Yankovic’s 14th album, and his best-selling since Straight Outta Lynwood, which was released in 1991 went to No.1 on the US album chart. The last comedy album to reach No 1 in the US was Allan Sherman’s My Son, the Nut in 1963.

2010 - Heather Mills

Paul McCartney's former wife, Heather Mills, told the press that the trauma and pain she went through after losing her leg in a traffic accident was nothing compared to the way she felt after she and the former Beatle split up. The two separated in 2006 after four years of marriage and went on to fight an bitter public divorce battle which saw her gain a $38.9 million settlement.

2003 - Erik Braunn

Erik Braunn from American psychedelic rock band Iron Butterfly died of cardiac failure at the age of 52. Braunn was just 16 years old when he joined Iron Butterfly who had the 1968 US No.14 single 'In-A- Gadda-Da-Vida’.

1999 - Woodstock Festival

This years Woodstock Festival ended with riots resulting in 120 people being arrested. Three people died during the 3-day festival in separate incidents and many were hospitalised after drinking polluted water.

1995 - Charlie Rich

Grammy Award winning country singer, songwriter Charlie Rich died in his sleep aged 62 years old. Rich began as a Rockabilly artist for Sun Records in Memphis in 1958. He scored the 1974 US No.1 & UK No.2 single 'The Most Beautiful Girl' and 'Behind Closed Doors', was a No.1 country hit.

1984 - Willie Mae ‘Big Mama’ Thornton

Willie Mae ‘Big Mama’ Thornton died at the age of 58 died in Los Angeles of heart and liver complications. She had a No.1 R&B hit in 1953 with ‘Hound Dog’ (later covered by Elvis Presley). She also wrote and recorded ‘Ball 'n' Chain,’ which Janis Joplin recorded.

1983 - Metallica

American heavy metal band Metallica released their debut studio album Kill 'Em All. The release is regarded as a groundbreaking album for thrash metal because of its precise musicianship, which fuses new wave of British heavy metal riffs with hardcore punk tempos.

1981 - Air Supply

Air Supply went to No.1 on the US singles chart with 'The One That I Love', the group's only US No.1 and the first Australian band to top the US singles chart.

1980 - AC/DC

AC/DC released their sixth internationally released studio album Back In Black, the first AC/DC album recorded without former lead singer Bon Scott who died on 19 February 1980 at the age of 33. The album has sold an estimated 49 million copies worldwide to date, making it the second highest-selling album of all time, and the best-selling hard rock or heavy metal album.

1971 - T Rex

T Rex were at No.1 on the UK singles chart with 'Get It On', the group's second UK No.1 which spent four weeks at the top of the charts. In the US it was retitled Bang A Gong, (Get It On). Power Station had a UK & US hit with their version of the song in 1985.

1970 - Carpenters

The Carpenters started a four week run at No.1 on the US singles chart with '(They Long To Be) Close To You'. The first of three US No.1's and 17 other Top 40 hits. The song was written in 1963 by Hal David and Burt Bacharach and was first offered to Herb Alpert, who said he didn't feel comfortable singing the line 'so they sprinkled moon dust in your hair'.

1969 - The Seattle Pop Festival

The Seattle Pop Festival took place at the Gold Creek Park, Woodinville, Washington. Acts who appeared over three days included, Chuck Berry, Tim Buckley, The Byrds, Chicago Transit Authority, Albert Collins, Bo Diddley, The Doors, The Flock, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Guess Who, It's A Beautiful Day, Led Zeppelin, Santana, Spirit, Ten Years After, Ike & Tina Turner, Vanilla Fudge, Alice Cooper and The Youngbloods.

1969 - Neil Young

Neil Young appeared with Crosby, Stills and Nash for the first time when played at The Fillmore East in New York. Young was initially asked to help out with live material only, but ended up joining the group on and off for the next 30 years.

1965 - Bob Dylan

Dressed in Carnaby Street threads, the ever-changing Bob Dylan plugged in for his headlining set backed by the Butterfield Blues Band at The Newport Folk Festival in Newport, Rhode Island. Folk music ‘purists’ tried to boo him off the stage, while the rest of the audience gave him an enthusiastic response. It is usually said that the reason for the crowd's hostile reception was Dylan's 'abandoning' of the folk orthodoxy, or poor sound quality on the night (or a combination of the two).

1964 - The Beatles

The Beatles third album 'A Hard Day's Night' started a twenty-one week run at the top of the UK charts. This was the first Beatles album to be recorded entirely on four-track tape, allowing for good stereo mixes.

1963 - Cilla Black

Cilla Black made a recording test for EMI Records after George Martin had spotted her while at a Gerry And The Pacemakers gig in Liverpool.

1960 - Roy Orbison

Roy Orbison reached No.2 on the US singles chart with ‘Only the Lonely,’ his first hit. The song was turned down by The Everly Brothers and Elvis Presley, so Orbison decided to record the song himself.

[budow4x]

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Make sure you deal an installer who can structure a comprehensive and Experienced program for the place the ductwork will probably be Situated. Remember to insulate that ductwork. Also, program your funds accordingly for occasional visits by a professional to change the filter, clear the coils, and complete other varieties of routine maintenance to make sure that the AC is Doing the job successfully.

Base line: When you've got room to the ductwork, central air is a silent, effortless, discreet, and design and style-friendly way to chill your property.

[catwhite7-blog]

This match is much harder compared to the first, and you will receive on its own degree or thankfully die trying.

hentai games is never to be trifled with. Construction on the initial tough-as-nails reputation, crew Ninja's second samurai action rpg extends the original's penchant for penalizing and exceptionally nuanced combat. The sequel hones the initial distinctive spin about the Souls-like devoid of entirely obliterated it self. The end result is a lengthy, hard slog that will push even the maximum challenge-hungry gamers into their breaking points since they struggle for each inch of earth and eventually become grasp samurai. Inspite of the name, hentai games can be a prequel, showing that the secret history of a decades-long period of warfare from medieval Japan. Since the hushed, customizable hero Hide, you fight to find the trick nature of"spirit stones," that grant unnatural ability, and defeat hordes of Yo Kai around the country. The plot, which you mostly listen through cut-scenes and exposition amongst missions, has an interesting historical bent, however, it is really merely glue to carry precisely the degrees with each other. Historically applicable names such as Nobunaga and Tokugawa perform into the saga, however whatever flavor they put in in the moment fades the moment you require control and it is the right time for you to get started killing demons. But that's okay. hentai games's narrative gives only enough time for you to follow along and make you truly feel as though you're making advancements without becoming back in the way of this game play. hentai games's authoritative element is its own challenge. With core mechanisms elegant from your bones of Dark Souls, hentai games boils right down to a succession of conflicts and duels in all kinds of conditions. These conflicts demand intense precision: Maybe Not only will you your strikes and techniques tied to means of a stamina meter--named Ki--however any extra attack or mistimed movement will render you exposed, usually to a attack that'll cause you a significant sum of health. As with other Souls-like games, there's really a debilitating joy in mastering all rivals that the game throws your way. hentai games assembles to the beautifully diverse variety of options for creating a individual battling fashion. The original systems come: Every one of those nine weapon types provides a distinctive balance amid speed, power, and scope, which you are able to fine the fly by switching among a few stances (very low, mid, and large ). Each weapon type has its own personal skill tree along with progression, for which you earn points using it. The core weapon beat continues to be largely unchanged by the original, outside a few new talents and two fresh weapons types, the speedy two-handed Switchglaive and very speedy double-hatchets. That saidthe beat is really accurate. hentai games requires which you get a deep comprehension of most of the strikes your weapon(s) can do, but there is a variety of attacks and also they each put their spin on the best way to struggle. Additionally, there are multiple overall power timber, also personality levels that improve your stats in line with earning Amrita from murdering enemies. Furthermore, hentai games is really a loot match, so you'll always be looking at brand new weapons with trade-offs that tweak your stats. It has much to handle, but it will become manageable since you locate your specialty and concentrate on upgrading the skills you would like you prefer using. For hentai games vets, that is all old hat: hentai games's most significant additions revolve around the thought that cover can station Yo-Kai spirits. The most essential is that a difficult parry named the Burst Counter, which permits one to counter powerful enemy strikes. Every enemy gets a minumum of a single attack which is exposed to this counter; they are frequently big, effective motions you'll be tempted to complete. Fighting that impulse and also throwing yourself in your enemy to turn the wave of struggle for an instant is essential, making the beat feel more tactical and aggressive. In the moment should you spot a enemy trapping a burst strike, you feel powerful, as if you've gotten one on your competition, even for a moment. Because the match is very difficult, these modest successes help induce you forward. You also learn Yo Kai abilities through equippable Spirit Cores that let you to temporarily transform to the enemies you've murdered to use one of their attacks. Greater than Ninjutsu and magic, that return from the initial, Soul Cores add a much wider assortment of contextually abilities that are useful. For instance, because the Monkey Yokai Enki, you jump in the air and toss away a spear, which is quite book as hentai games doesn't have a jump button. As soon as the Yo-Kai get greater --each and every boss offers you a Spirit Center -- occasionally a giant fist or head or foot magically appears to maim your own enemies. They aren't so powerful you may lean on them to acquire a struggle, but these capabilities widely expand the range of matters you can do. Last but not least, hentai games includes a super-powerful"Yo Kai Alter" transformation, that temporarily makes you faster and stronger. Triggering the conversion doesn't obviate the demand for approaches. Though you are invulnerable, the two using attacks and shooting damage decrease the total amount of time you have in your more healthy shape. A unsuccessful assault in Yo Kai mode not just wastes a powerful, slowly and gradually charging asset, but might also leave you unexpectedly vulnerable when you revert to a old self as your competitor captured you off-guard. In true hentai games mode, even your greatest advantage could become a opportunity for your own enemy to obtain the top hand. It's lots to know and, once more, you want to receive it down perfectly to over come exactly what hentai games throws at you. You may probably earn a whole lot of blunders and perish many, many times. Some times it's going feel like you have hit a solid brick wall and simply can not win. In many scenarios, you want to have a deep breath, figure out why you are neglecting, and correct the strategy to match. Refusing to change firearms or shoot challenges or otherwise be thoughtful about the best way to play will soon leave you disappointed. The more frustrated you get, the more the more likely you'll lose again. Learning your own skillset is merely a portion of their experience. To actually excel, in addition you will need to understand hentai games's large universe. There is an astounding amount of variety across an extremely long effort. Its winding, multi-area missions interval a myriad of surroundings, from burning temples and castles, to army camps, to woods and mountain sides. A number of them change dramatically because you research these giving you a excellent awareness of"traveling" and accomplishment for masking what feels as though a lengthy period. 1 historical level, for example, commences to the hillside outside a castle plus finishes in an significant underground cave. Even if the degrees seem similar--you only siege four to five castles round 20 marketing campaign assignments --diverse degree layout in both pathing and depth make each and every one feel distinct and worth conquering. It will help the maps are somewhat more than pleased, turny dungeon crawls. Many have at least one area having a single snare or environmental conundrum. In 1 forest amount, for example, a giant owl Yokai patrols specific locations, alerting enemies if it sees you. Throughout a castle siege, it's necessary for you to dodge artillery fire as you duel enemy soldiers. Additionally, you'll find Black Realm zones, white and black spots haunted by Yo Kai that provide a much greater challenge by slowing your Ki regeneration, sprinkled all through each degree. It is simply by beating a specific enemy in a Dark Realm it will dispel permanently, injecting more ways for you to make advancement which does not refresh once you employ a shrine (or expire ). Even for all its own variety, hentai games stretches all its content as much as possible. For every assignment in its core campaign, there are two to three side assignments, a number of which remix a part of a story assignment. In addition to there, you will find rotating Twilight Missions for high end players. In addition, upon completing the campaign, you're going to receive entry to an issue degree with higher-level enemies along with equipment. While it's really a small annoying inprinciple to engage in exactly the same area of a level three to four situations, each variation finds modest techniques to change your path along with pose new challenges to keep things new. If you are enthusiastic about wringing absolutely everything out of hentai games--master each and every weapon, get the highest level loot--that there are enough mission configurations to proceed until you've had your fill. Likewise, hentai games never appears to run out of new enemies to throw at you. Nearly every degree has at least new sort of Yokai that you study and also struggle versus. They run the gamut, from Deadly giant spiders into animalistic superhero soldiers such as the Enki, a huge monkey with a spear, and also the harpy-like Ubume. Every enemy has got its own selection of abilities, and you need to know about these as a way to expect their attacks and receive the top hand. This approach takes a while --you won't have it on the first try, or even after the first victory. Every enemy, although the little Gaki demon, that looks like a balding, redeyed child, may eliminate you when you're not bringing your A-game. Dissecting enemy layouts and figuring out how exactly to counter them would be your most adorable pleasure hentai games delivers: That there are so many enemies having therefore many diverse strikes to navigate make certain the game never ever loses its flavor. Even if the degrees seem like you simply siege a few castles across 20 campaign missions--varied level design in either pathing and depth make each and every 1 feel different and values conquering. You find this most clearly when you move up against each of the game's extremely tricky supervisor experiences. Much like the numbers, the bosses range broadly and therefore are sights to behold. From a giant spider with mini-snake arms to your three-story spider using a bull's head, each and every flagship enemy style and design has lots of personality and is unlike anything else you have observed from the game before. All of them have one thing in common, even though: They're incredibly tough. Even more than ordinary battles, the bosses effectively require perfect drama for a protracted period of time. You need in order to recognize every move they make since they allow it to and know just how exactly to respond instantly. Very few took me less than a dozen attempts, and a number took me a while.

Occasionally , I wondered if maybe a number of those directors ought to be described as a touch briefer, because you can find lots of bosses in which I felt I'd mastered their patterns but could not finish as they landed a single one-hit-kill late in the struggle. Eventually, that agonizing trouble and also the feeling it evokes are baked to hentai games's DNA, although, and its supervisor struggles stay compelling even as they vex and frustrate. Although it feels like a curse because you can play, it's really a testament that hentai games productively grabs and keeps the entire focus so close to such a long time .

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Roses are Red- Solangelo

Disclaimer: This story will revolve around abuse in future chapters. 

I come from an abusive household. I lived through domestic abuse for eight years, and its impact continues to affect me a little over a decade later. I felt the necessity to give a voice to the people trapped in an abusive relationship, to show what it entails and what it does to a person. As a writer, I always vowed to myself that I would write so in a way so raw and honest, it would list my novels under banned books. I would write the reality people are afraid to write. I would write the voices that have been silenced. So that's what this story is. It will show the development and the struggle of an abusive relationship so that everyone can understand the fear, the hurt, the pain. So people will stop asking, "Why didn't you just leave them?" or "What did you do to provoke them?" and start standing up for the victims instead. This story will contain violence and sexual abuse in addition to emotional abuse. I don't write this because I find pleasure in it, but because I believe it's important for people to understand what this is like.

After a poll on Tumblr, this story has been molded to star Will and Nico from the Percy Jackson series. In reality, you can put any faces you want on these characters. It's the story that matters.

I also decided making this an LGBT novel because LGBT people are silenced further when it comes to abuse. Not only because of the previously mentioned questions but because many don't believe women are abusive nor are men abusive to each other. It's just a matter of fighting back. That is not true.

If you or someone you know need help in regards to domestic abuse, call National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 with more than 200 languages. All calls are free and confidential. Online chat is also available on their website between 7am-2am central time at www.thehotline.org

(Click OP if read more link doesn’t show.)

Feedback is appreciated!!!

It’s funny how time works. How every precise second is a factor in your life. A moment earlier, a moment later, and your life can change completely without you realizing it. It seemed like time was constantly the reason behind everything. This fabricated illusion created by humans to measure their uneventful lives to the point of panic or stress had managed to be the molder of lives.

That was all Nico could really think. That single second that had sent him barreling through the classroom door his first day of college until he was toppled over another student with bright eyes and clusters of freckles. That minute it took him to gather his things and leave the coffee shop on campus resulting in Nico running into the same student- though not literally this time- as he walked in at the same time Nico was going to walk out. That single half-second glance that resulted in running a red light, slamming the brakes too hard, and going to a hospital because a single second later another car had swerved into them.

The minute of traffic that had caused them to get to the club past the hour that 21 and under were allowed. The moment of frustrated hesitation that led to someone offering help, sneaking them through the back. The three minutes in which Nico left to get a drink, the single second it took for him to turn and find Will in the crowd, talking to someone.

Life had changed for the better and for the worse by mere seconds. Moments which, had they happened a little earlier or later, would have led their lives down completely different paths.

Nico hated time.

***

There was an incessant tug at his arm. “Nico, come on, we’re going to be late, and we’ll have driven there for nothing,” Will sighed. “We have to go.

“Give me two seconds, man I’m almost done,” he said, peeking up at the mirror, his hands running through his hair, trying to spread the gel just right. Will rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter, watching Nico through the window. His eyes flickered over to him, suddenly uncomfortable. “Dude. Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.”

“I’m thinking maybe if I intimidate you enough, we can leave already.” Nico rolled his eyes and turned to him.

“Ever heard the expression ‘a watched teapot never whistles?’”

“You’re not a teapot,” he pointed out, smirking, raising an eyebrow. Nico snorted and shoved him playfully. “Finally,” he breathed as Nico left the bathroom.

Together, they left Nico’s on campus apartment and started for Will’s car. Since Nico crashed his, he hasn’t been able to fix it, rendering it useless. He glanced momentarily at Will knowing that on his right side, there were twenty stitches. Will was rocking the side shaved look, but knowing it was Nico’s fault made it painful to look at him sometimes. The hair had grown out enough, the stitches healed so that there was only a faded, jagged, light scar obscured by dirty blond hair.

“You can stop looking at me like I’m a lost puppy, Neeks. It’s been four months.” Will always knew when Nico was thinking about the accident. “I’m perfectly fine. Look at me, ready to get hammered and grind on strangers at a club! Plus, this haircut makes me look edgy. Very attractive.”

Nico offered a smile, but his chest still constricted with guilt. It was his fault. And though Will kept saying anyone could’ve run a red light, Nico knew it was more.

It wasn’t just the mistake of running a red light, and slamming the brake when he probably should’ve sped up to get across before cars drove into them. It was the fact that he had been driving and he had let himself get distracted by Will, blond hair flying back in short waves since the window was down, singing happily along with the radio, lips curled into a smile, hands drumming against the dashboard because Will swore he could figure out the drum beat.

He had been selfish, trying to soak up his presence, completely forgetting the road until Will shouted that there was a red light.

Nico hit the brakes without thinking. A jolt hit the front right side, another the back left, the impact shaking his bones, an icy feeling spreading through him as it registered that he’d just crashed. Will’s airbag had burst out, the window shattered, and Will was groaning lifting his head, the right side of his face smear with blood. And Nico’s head had hit the steering wheel hard enough to give him a headache, but he was fine and that wasn’t fair because he was the one driving, it had been his fault, so why had it been Will who got hurt so badly?

Suddenly an arm draped around his shoulders, and he pulled into the scent of Will; cotton and vanilla shampoo and minty toothpaste and Old Spice cologne. “It’s okay, Nico. Stop beating yourself up about this.” Vaguely, Nico wondered if it was possible to be in love with someone he never even dated. “We’re going to dance, we’re going to drink, and we’re going to have some fucking fun.” He shook Nico’s shoulders gently. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Nico said. He smiled and remained under Will’s arm until they reached his car.

Of course, the traffic was bad. It was a Friday night, and everyone was dying to go out into the city and get stupid drunk only to regret it the next morning and do it all over again by the time the sun set.

They had just barely reached the club in time before they refused anyone under 21, and stood in line, pulling out ten bucks each and their IDs. When they reached the bouncer, he checked the IDs and shook his head. “Sorry dudes. No more under 21.”

Will gaped and scoffed. “We’ve been in line for like five minutes. It’s like two minutes past the hour, come on.”

The guy rolled his eyes and gave their IDs back. “Get here earlier next time then.” Nico winced at that, guilty again because he knew his getting ready had made them later.

“What a dick,” Will mumbled under his breath, turning away with Nico. “That’s ridiculous. It’s just fucking ridiculous! We have our money, we’ve been in line, and it’s not like we could get drinks anyway with the exaggerated exes they put on our hands. That shit takes days to wash off, dude.”

“Well, Thursdays are always 21 and under. We could come next week. Why don’t we get a pizza or something and watch a movie at my place?” he suggested. “I’ll buy,” he added, knowing this was all his fault.

Will let his head fall to the side, kicking at the ground. “That does sound tempting,” he said with a smile. Nico smiled back, but before they could turn away, someone walked up to them.

“Hey. I heard you guys were struggling with the bouncer.” Nico looked at the guy uneasily. Never trust anyone you don’t know this late in the heart of the city.

The guy had a lazy posture, tufts of brown hair in tousled waves, and he was rolling a large M&M in his mouth, looking at them with a cocked eyebrow, head tilted to the side.

“Yeah,” Will answered, glancing at Nico. “We’re under 21, but we were in line for a while. He didn’t want to let us in.” He shrugged.

The guy tilted his head back upright, biting down on his chocolate as he looked at Will and smirked. “I could get you guys in. There’s a back door, my friend’s the bartender. He has access to the door.” He gestured over. “Come on.” Will looked at Nico with an excitement Nico couldn’t bring himself to quell.

They walked over, Will walking with ease and Nico with enough tension for both of them. They stood by a door, the ground reeking of piss, trash, and who knows what else for a few moments before the door opened, revealing a guy with a ponytail and wide gages in his earlobes. “Yo, Sebastian. Who’re they?”

“New friends,” he answered. “They’re with me.” They guy nodded and let them in.

The club was packed, and that was an understatement. Bodies could hardly move, but that didn’t stop couples from grinding against each other slowly to the booming beat of the bass or the drunks from shoving past people like the dancefloor was theirs, their drinks spilling onto people or themselves. The song was good, Nico had heard it on the radio, but it was nearly drowned out by the constant club-beat of the bass they’d remixed it into. The song changed, along with a video on the small screens hanging from the ceilings. The beat remained the same, only the lyrics changing.

Nico saw different hair colors, heard shrieks of laughter and people singing along. He saw girls and guys with their hair matted down with sweat against their foreheads as they rocked their hips together, hips swaying sensually, not matching with the beat, but that obviously didn’t matter. “Come on,” he heard a faint shout. He looked over and Sebastian was leading them over to a smoke area where people could sit and take a break.

Will looked absolutely elated. Nico wished he could match his enthusiasm instead of dragging along like dead weight. “I’m Sebastian,” the guy shouted, though this time Nico heard him better.

“I’m Will. This is Nico. Thanks for getting us in!” He flashed a sincere, open smile. God, Nico loved that smile. It held all the warmth in the universe, and it was always honest and it was always special even though he always smiled. Anyone who received a smile from him was blessed for the rest of the day.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “So, you two together?”

Nico’s eyes went wide, his heart stuttered. It wasn’t the first time they’d been asked. People always assumed they were a couple. But each time always made Nico’s heart flutter with fear and hope.

Will laughed good-naturedly and wrapped an arm around Nico. “No, he’s my best friend. We’re both single.” The answer made Nico’s stomach twist, even though he knew it was true. But something changed in Sebastian’s expression. His smile widened slightly, his eyes focused on Will, and Nico had the absurd urge to pull him away and leave the club. Leave the grinding bodies, the boring bass, the messy flashing lights.

Sebastian looked over at Nico and smiled. “You guys want some drinks? Jack won’t ask your ID he knows you came in with me.” Nico looked at him suspiciously, and Sebastian seemed to understand because he laughed. He pulled out some money and handed it over. “You can get them. I know the number one rule of a club is not to take a drink from someone else.”

Nico relaxed and looked at Will. “Can you bring me a Jack and Coke on the rocks?” Nico nodded and pleaded with his eyes for him to stay in the same spot. He didn’t want this guy whisking him away.

While Nico left to get Will’s drink and a beer for himself, he couldn’t help but scan the crowds. It was getting more and more crowded. His eyes flitted over to where Will and Sebastian were waiting.

His stomach dropped.

Sebastian was close, about the same height as Will. His hand was in his hair, on the shaved side. Nico knew he was touching the scar. He knew it, and his stomach churned at the idea. But Will seemed completely at ease. His eyes were lidded, his sweet smile morphed into a sensual smirk, head tilted nearly brushing Sebastian’s nose with his own.

Nico was rushing back, spilling most of his beer, eyes set on the two of them. When he reached them, Will looked his way, but remained close, shoulder brushing Sebastian’s. Nico gave him his drink and Will thanked him. Sebastian whispered something in his ear and Nico fought the urge to hit him.

Then Will leaned over, his whiskey-tinted breath warm in Nico’s ear. “You mind if I go dance?”

His heart dropped to his stomach. “No, go ahead,” he answered lightly.

Will smiled and nudged him. “You should dance too. It’s a club, go meet someone.”

But the only person I want is you, he thought to himself. But he just smiled and nodded. “Yeah, totally will if I grow enough balls.” Will laughed and punched his shoulder lightly before walking away with Sebastian. Nico noticed with a nauseating lurch that his hand was intertwined in Sebastian’s.

Staying in the smoke area, Nico watched with a twisting heart as Will wrapped his hand around the back of Sebastian’s neck and curled closer to him, careful not to spill his drink. Sebastian’s hands didn't hesitate to roam up and down Will’s torso, fingers searching greedily. Nico dared him to go too far. Too slip his hands too low, to push into him too hard, to do anything that would make Will push him away and turn back to Nico. But he didn't.

Three songs later, he was still painfully watching Will twist in Sebastian’s arms and press against him, head tilted back in a joyous smile as Sebastian tentatively leaned down, encouraged by Will exposing his neck further, and licked the skin there.

It was something Nico had been dying to do, and very nearly did a few times when he was too drunk. And watching Will melt against him, reveling in this stranger's lips at his throat, Nico felt something cold clench his heart until it was too painful. He looked away and wished he had had the gall to tell Will what he felt. Even if Will didn't like him back, at least he wouldn't torture Nico by blatantly flirting and feeling up strangers in front of him. Will would never do that.

Instead he remained seated, sipping lukewarm beer, and wishing more than anything that they’d started walking away a few seconds earlier. Then they wouldn’t have met Sebastian, and they’d be in Nico’s living room watching a movie and throwing pepperoni at each other.

Nico was getting cranky. He was sleepy, hurt, and he felt invisible in the seating area watching couples grope each other. He wondered how many of these people had just met. How many of these were just doing what Will and Sebastian were doing?

His eyes returned to Will and Nico felt the earth shatter beneath him as everything fell away. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, a pain in his heart so strong it became physical.

They were kissing. They were pressed as close as they possibly could be, kissing almost viciously. Even from a distance, Nico could see their tongues probing into each other’s mouths, teeth biting at lips, fingers tangled into locks of hair. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted to, God he wanted to. He didn’t want to torture himself like this, watching someone adore the person he loved the way he’d always wanted to.

But no.

If Nico had the chance, the kiss wouldn’t be so primal. He would kiss him softly. He would kiss him slowly. He would admire and bask in every sensation, from the warmth of his lips to the way his lips would part slightly to the texture of his tongue pressed against Nico’s own. He would relish the kiss, live in it, cherish it with everything in him.

Knowing that he never would while watching the scene unfold in front of him, the two of them stumbling between dancing people until they were near a wall, pressing into it like they wanted to mold into it, Nico finally had to tear himself away.

The look of pure ecstasy on his face was unfair. Knowing that Will enjoyed what he was doing hurt Nico further. It reiterated that he never stood a chance.

He staggered to the bathroom taking ragged breaths. He splashed his face with water, trying to calm down, trying to quell the hurt, the agony that was trying to bubble and burst through his chest.

He just wanted to go home.

He wasn’t sure how long he took refuge in the bathroom, scrolling through his phone until it was down to 10% if only to ignore the memory pawing at his brain. He didn’t pay attention to the time. But it was nearly three in the morning when his phone rang with Will’s face, contorted by a Snapchat filter, and Nico yelped, nearly dropping his phone. He answered and stuttered out a, “Hello?”

“Don’t hello? me!” he snapped. “Where the hell are you? I’ve gone all over this place looking for you! I came outside and I can’t go back in. Baz’s friend is off his shift. Are you still in there?”

“Looking for me?” he questioned. He blinked and shook his head. “Um, sorry.”

“Are you drunk right now? Where are you? Are you okay?” Nico’s brain was struggling to catch up, but it was more due to the emotional overflow and mind numbing scrolling he’d been doing while inhaling the disgusting scent of the bathroom. “Nico?”

“I’m okay, sorry. I’m-” Suddenly there was no static on the line. He looked at his screen and cursed when he saw it was completely black. It died.

He cursed under his breath and left the bathroom, then the club. It was still relatively full, but not as asphyxiatingly packed as before. There were several people on the sidewalk, waiting on Ubers or friends or trying to maintain their balance long enough to stay upright for two seconds.

He wasn’t sure where Will was, but if he could just go to where they’d parked, he would be fine.

He started walking, and that’s when he heard a relieved cry in the form of his name. He turned and saw Will barreling into him, his arms wrapping around him. Nico yelped and awkwardly hugged him back.

“Where the hell were you?” he asked, pulling away.

Nico tried and failed to ignore the purple marks along his neck and the plump swell on his nearly red lips. “I was in the bathroom,” he grumbled.

“The whole time?” he asked incredulously.

Nico felt his face flush and shrugged his hands away. “Yeah. I think the beer might’ve made me a little sick or something. I wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t want to force you to go home, so…. I just hung out in the bathroom. I’m sorry I forgot to text you.”

“Nico,” he breath exasperatedly. But before he finished, Sebastian was beside him, an arm snaking around Will’s waist.

He had marks on his neck too. But he had a few bite marks too.

“You found him,” he said. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, just feel a little sick,” Nico said, forcing a smile.

“I’m going to take him home,” Will whispered. “Get in, Neeks.” He opened the door for Nico get in, and he did so awkwardly. He could hear the muted murmurs just outside his window. “Thanks for helping me look for him.” Something unintelligible. “I had fun tonight. Text me?”

“As soon as you get in the car.” Nico could see through the side mirror as Sebastian neared Will, his arms wrapping around him. It wasn’t greedy this time. It was soft. Gentle. “Promise I’ll see you again.”

Will’s face tilted toward him, and Nico knew they were kissing again. He furrowed his eyebrows and curled into his seat shutting his eyes. A few excruciatingly long moments later, Will opened the door to the car and got it, starting the engine. “Nico?” Nico didn’t respond. He kept his eyes closed. He could pretend to be happy for him. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. “Neeks?” His hand rested on his arm. “Hm. Maybe you did get sick.” He heard him fumble with something and Nico noticed the air vents weren’t blasting in his face anymore. It was subtler and the air blew gently against him, enough to keep him from sweating, but not so much to make him freeze. The radio switched between stations for a while before Will settled on an Indie station and left it at a low volume.

Will hated Indie. He put it for Nico. So he could unconsciously listen in his sleep. It made Nico want to burst into tears and confession.

Instead, he kept his eyes shut and pretended to sleep the entire way back to campus.

Click Here for Ch. 2

[oxfordeliterp]

CONGRATULATIONS, NINA!

You have been accepted to play the role of CHARLES ZERILLI with the faceclaim of BRANDON PEREA. Please create your account and send it to the main in the next 24 hours. I believe I have read your application over and over, each time more charmed, each time more amazed of the lightheartedness and innocence you could write into Charles’ personality without tainting his party-animal & mafia heir ways. He is humane, palpable, real, delicious in his naivety and already a joy to read and watch in action. I can only imagine what kind of surprises await for us once you bring him in the game. You caught subtle elements of his personality and almost read my mind and every headcanon you came up with was so brilliant in its simplicity, which describes your writing as well. Thank you for this refreshing reading and such an unique take on what could have been a ‘simple’ character.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

Name and pronouns: Nina, she/her.

Age: 21 yo.

Time-zone: BRT.

Activity level: I’m  currently finishing undergrad school, and that’s pretty much all I’m focusing my time on rn. So, I’ll be checking the dash every day and plotting/answering to threads every time I can get to my computer. I would be a solid 7 out of 10, I think.

Triggers: None, thanks!

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Charles Zerilli. What first appealed to me was the heir of a Detroit Mafia sotto capo thing. That’s quite the kind of character that gets me going, to be honest. I played it a couple of times before, and every time I get a chance, I do it again and again and again. But passed that, I kinda fell in love with how non-cliché Charlie ends up being. He’s someone who loves his family unconditionally, but can’t quite embrace who they expect him to be. And how complex that sounds to such a balck-and-white kinda guy made me really excited to test his limits, to see how far he would go for them, and how peace and violence co-exist in him. Hence my choice.

Gender and pronouns of the character: Cis Male, he/him/his.

Changes: I would like to change Charlie’s faceclaim to Brandon Perea, if possible, as I talked to the admin before (more like, asked if that would work and stuff, but yeah). Thanks!

Traits:  Charles lives by a fundamental value: loyalty to a cause, to a person or to a principle as an unbreakable vow. He believes that respect, understanding of hierarchy and an accomplished role in society comes from this very trait, and does everything in his power to follow it, no matter how fond or not he’s of the subject of his loyalty. But being loyal also made him unforgiving, once unless you share his DNA, he’s incapable of forgetting and/or forgiving any gesture or action that goes against what he believes. Yes, he’ll be polite, smile and treat you as politely as you could expect, but he won’t care for you. Not for a second time, anyway. Because, in the end of the day, he’s nothing if not genuine. There’s no grand plan behind anything he does. Charles is capable of loving unconditionally, and will always part from the understanding that every single person has no second intentions, just what stands in plain sight. It’s not naivety, though, it’s just his black-and-white self speaking louder than his experience.

Unfortunately, because there’s no resemblance of a plan, Charles can be rather inconsequent.He does what he feels is right for him at that very moment, for h also strongly believes he’s not obliged to be the same person every hour of every day. As anything organic, Charles is in constant transformation and he loves it. He sees it as the very reason we exist for. To change, to be creative and to transform ourselves into better versions every day, through all of our ups and downs.

Extras: So, I’ve got a blog to help me write applications and stuff, and I made a tag for Charlie there with: wardrobe inspiration, aesthetics, moodboards, Zarilli twins, headcanons, quotes, quick facts and songs. Hopefully, it’ll help understand how I see Charlie.

PARA SAMPLE

Detroit, 2016.

TW: murder, drug abuse, gun.

Charles Zerilli was a child of tradition.

He prayed in a milenar church, was born in a family of inherited trade, generation after generation, and served his purpose in life as the costume told him too. Dress well, behave well, and you might have some success in life. For greatness was hidden in the details, his mother used to say.

Curious how tradition was precisely what made him shiver once his gaze met his reflection in the mirror. Charles looked just like his father. The tailored suit, the leather belt, shoes and holster, the pair of Smith&Wesson Shields beneath his jacket.

                               An improved copy, father said with a smile.

They were off to work, then. Loudly, and yet, without pronouncing a word. Violently, and yet, looking as peaceful as the absence of life that followed them. This was the sight of the Zerilli family, the modus operandi they stood by. And Charles was thankful to the cocaine running through his system.

                                It got him going. Got him steady and fierce.

His father pretended not to notice or not to care, his mother looked the other way, and they all followed as planned. Down to the next stop: small business, just collecting money. For father wanted him to understand the small details of their operation. Always those freaking details.

But the poor guy had no money to give them.

Charles prayed for it not to happen. Exhaustively. No money meant guns, and guns meant death, and that meant more blood in his hands. Because a Zerilli must learn the value of life and of death, and there was nothing like killing to teach you that lesson. It was what tradition said. He knew it far too well.

“Charles”, father said, imperiously. ‘Kill him, now’, it meant. ’Graphically, violently. So no one will make the same mistake, so your name will be known in the streets and people will understand that you’re no child, no stupid heir’.

So he pulled out his gun, hands steady in his leather gloves as he pointed it at the miserable man’s forehead. But the racing heart inside his chest threatened to come out, to runaway towards shelter. He thought of Charlotte in the end of that barrel, and not all the cocaine in the world would make him less religious, less guilt and destroyed.

                                                                                                        F U C K.

His father looked at him, puzzled eyebrows arching as he did. There was no time left to pray for his soul, or for his victim`s salvation. Charles pulled the trigger. Small to no recoil and the man was dead. Bleeding out on the floor of his shop. Father smiled, still puzzled. “Why the delay, son?”, he asked, rather amused.

“Just… thinking of where to shoot”, Charles said, dismissively, and father laughed. “Well, you made the right choice”.

Right choice. Why, then, Charles felt like he couldn’t move further away from such a concept? He was tearing apart, and no fixing would put him back into one piece. There was no coming back from a murder. And that wasn’t even his first. He would burn in hell throughout all eternity and he had his own family to thank for that.

London, 2016.

TW: drug abuse.

Under the faint lights of the club’s bathroom, Charles resented his approaching sobriety.

A song by Years & Years played outside the disgusting door behind him, while men came inside with little to no dignity left. He was already able to discern what dignity actually meant. It wan’t pleasing. A bad sign, by all means.

For this was a night to forget. To be someone else entirely. So what use would sobriety have? Or self-respect, on that matter?

It didn’t take long, then, to his eyes depart from the mirror and look down as he went through his pockets. Once his fingers touched the small plastic bag, it all started to get better, brighter. One, two, three lines of coke and he was back in his game. Heart racing inside his chest, pupils dilated, a joy so great that it was barely handled.

He went back out, the song taking him further into the dancing crowd. Charles was barely standing, barely dressed. Just in the right spot.

                           “What are you prepared to do?”

His hands went up, Charlie laughed. That was the taste of freedom. Body unconsciously moving, names so far away from his mind he didn’t quite remember them. This was it. Perfection in its most wild form.

                          “I think I’m gonna make it worse"

And it seemed epidemic. Every corner he looked, there was more of it. People dancing, sweating against each other. Bodies moved, senseless. Drinks passed on, recklessly. He wasn’t sure about the name of the girl dancing with him, nor was he sure about where he got the beer he was holding, but Charles didn’t care. He laughed, again. He danced. He was  f r e e.

                          "I talk to you but it don’t work                                   I touch you but it starts to hurt                                       What have I been doing wrong?                                               Tell me what it is you want”

No expectations to meet, no problems to solve. Just that moment, that girl, that ridiculously high sex he would have and a morning of questionable integrity. Maybe there would only be a new future, if he destroyed his present first. Or maybe destruction was never the plan.

But Charles saw beauty in it. In that drunk frenesi he was stuck on.

London, 2017.

“Who the fuck are you?” was all Charles managed to say before he turned away from the mirror, sick of his own sight.

He couldn’t stand it. The loss in his eyes. For it was hard to find comfort in his own reflection lately. As long as he ignored, it was ok. He went on to his perfect world, and perfect amusement. Facade. But there were moments in life that ignorance was no longer acceptable, and he had to acknowledge he was unbecoming.

He turned off the water in the bathtub. Time to forget. No help from alcohol or drugs. Just allowing himself to process and move on. To get back his center, find peace. So he undressed himself and stepped into the warm water. Charles was prepared to pour himself out in that single moment, and leave the bathroom a new man.

At least, until the knock on his door made him aware of his own exposure. “Charlie”, he heard his sister call as the door fell open.

“I’m naked, get the fuck out”, Charles mumbled indifferently, eyes still closed as Charlotte arched a brow at him. “Because I never saw your fucking penis before…”. But she did. More than Charles was able to admit, and probably more often than adult siblings should see each other naked. But there was no point, she was already getting in the bathtub, kicking his legs away to make room and soaking her impeccable clothes and the bathroom floor.

“What the fuck, Charlie?” he sat down. “Felt like it”, she answered, and he cursed under his breath. He just wasn’t in the mood for that whole thing, and Charlotte knew. From the moment she opened the door and saw him, she knew and still came in anyway.

“I’m not buying this, Charlie. I know you, and I feel what you feel, which is creepy and highly inconvenient. So, stop. I’m not here for your fucking act. You can either pour your troubled little heart out to me, or enjoy the embarrassing silence, because I’m staying, and you better like it”.

And that was what having his soul outside his body meant.

It was sensing he was falling apart and coming anyway.                                      It was being told to leave, and deciding to stay. It was embarrassing, and at the same time, comforting.                                      It was  h o m e.

So Charles just went silent. He stared at her and laughed soundlessly. As long as he had Charlotte, things would work out. Unrequited love, family problems, drug addiction. It all felt small when he looked at her. She understood without him saying a word, she made it better just by being herself, and somehow, Charles knew that his twin was probably the best part of being him. His soul was all that mattered.

“I kinda hate you right now”, he said at last. Charotte snorted. Such an ugly lie.