#like there's a certain genius in walking or cycling places

[colinhugh3s]

for the past three seasons ted has never once been truly left alone and to his own devices. he's had beard having his back, henry on video call, rebecca calling to check up, even mae at the pub to check in. but this ep he was truly alone for the first time. in a strange city with so many unfamiliar yet familiar things: painted sunflowers, an american bar where nobody is actually american. him coming to the conclusion that he came to had nothing to do with any dud hallucinogens, but with the fact that he was alone, truly alone, and he found so much strength in that.

[kaiijo]

CERTAINTIES — SHIDOU RYUSEI

pairing: shidou ryusei x gn! reader content: pro soccer player! shidou, pr manager! reader, shidou and kaiser’s behavior is a warning and of itself, shidou calls reader “sweetheart” and “sweets,” one suggestive joke notes: i <3 unhinged men

You’ve learned that there are very few certainties in this world. The trains are not always on time, your hair is not always how you want it to look, your coffee order is not always what you want it to be.

But if you can be certain of one thing, it’s that Shidou Ryusei is a walking PR nightmare.

Your colleagues all warned you about taking him on as a client. His reputation precedes him: he’s loud, generally pretty rude, and absolutely unpredictable; he had cycled through no less than five PR agents in just a month. One of his previous agents, who sits in the office besides yours, came back in tears one day, huffing and sniffling that she “can’t work with him anymore!” because “he’s an absolute maniac! A total psycho!”

But if the various first place trophies and medals that were displayed in your childhood home for spelling bees and baking contests and even a few sport competitions mean anything, it’s that you never back down from a challenge. And, not to be too self-congratulatory, but you’ve been in the job for three months now — the longest of any PR agent — and you’re fairly sure you’re not anywhere close to being fired or run off by Shidou.

You sit on the sidelines of the field, watching the practice match between PXG and Bastard München with heavy eyelids. You got very little sleep the past few days after having to mitigate a “Shidou Ryusei Disaster,” as your team has taken to calling whatever scandal Shidou stirred up. Your eyes slid shut for a few seconds before the shrill of the whistle indicating halftime break made you jump, pitching forward. You would have definitely eaten grass if the man sitting beside you, Harada Kaito, hadn’t grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back.

You and Kaito work at the same agency with Kaito representing the actual PR angel, Yukimiya Kenyu. You can’t say you’re close friends but you get along well and enjoy chatting with him when PXG played against Bastard. “You okay there?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern.

You sigh heavily, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms. “Yeah, I’m fine. Had to put out some fires in the last few days so it’s been kind of hectic.”

“Right,” he says with a nod. “You spun it well. Saying that Shidou’s outbursts are products of overwhelming passion for soccer that’s just a little misplaced sometimes is honestly genius. Might have to steal that from you one day.”

You snort, “Yeah, right, Yukimiya’s a saint. I’m sure you’ll never have to put out a statement like that.”

He chuckles, leaning back. “Probably.”

“You wanna go, Rat Tail?” Both you and Kaito whip your heads over to see Shidou toe to toe with Michael Kaiser of all people. Of all people, he has to choose Michael Kaiser to fuck with today. Kaito gives you a pitying look as you run a hand down your face, standing up and heading over to douse this blaze before it can turn into another Shidou Ryusei Disaster.

“I’ll squish you like the insect you are,” Kaiser bites back, mouth pulling into a vicious smile.

“How about I exterminate you like the rat you are?” And you already see the way Shidou shifts his weight, the way his eyes grow sharper and his gaze more wild, and you know you’re a millisecond away from pandemonium, broken bones, and a potential lawsuit.

“Shidou Ryusei, if you even think about it, I’m never making you yukhoe ever again!”

Kaiser and the small crowd of soccer players that had formed around him and Shidou look a little surprised to see you a few feet away, clearly unaware that you had been practically sprinting across the field to get to them. Shidou, on the other hand, looks like he expected it and there is something smug about his expression that makes your eyes narrow. “Ah!” he croons, only needing two strides of his long legs to reach you. “So you were paying attention to me!”

“What are you on about?” you huff, crossing your arms.

“Well, you were falling asleep on the job. And then you seemed a little preoccupied with your little boytoy over there.” His eyes slide over to Kaito, who’s checking something on his phone.

You roll your eyes. “We’re colleagues, Shidou, you’ve met Kaito before.”

“First name basis? Are you sure you’re just colleagues?” He throws a nasty grin at you but there’s a look in his eyes that doesn’t quite match the simper.

“Yes.”

“You don’t sneak into the conference room together for a little rendezvous?”

“No.”

Shidou tilts his head and rocks on his feet, balancing on his toes and leaning in close. His nose almost brushed yours and your face heats up to an unhealthy temperature. Then, he smirks and pokes your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You swat his hand away. “Shut up.”

“Aww, that’s not a very nice way to talk to your client.”

“It’s not very nice to go around physically assaulting people.”

“I beg to differ, sweetheart,” Shidou says with a wink. Your face burns more.

You massage your temples and instead turn to Michael Kaiser, suddenly acutely aware that the first strings of PXG and Bastard München are all witnessing your interaction. “I’m sorry about his behavior.”

Kaiser raises an eyebrow and you think he’s going to give you a hard time but he only walks over to you, brushing past Shidou, and offers you a charming smile. “I don’t blame you,” he says, placing a placating hand on your shoulder and glancing at Shidou derisively over his shoulder. He looks back at you. “Feral animals are hard to train. My suggestion is to get them a leash and muzzle.”

You frown at Kaiser and peer over his shoulder to look at Shidou, but his eyes are glued to the hand on your shoulder. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Shidou chuckles but there’s something flat and unsettling about his tone. It shifts into something colder. “And get your hand off them.”

“Oh?” Kaiser smirks. “I don’t see them asking me to.”

“They’re too nice to say it. I, on the other hand, have no qualms ripping it off.”

“‘Qualms,’ that’s a big word for a little insect.”

“That’s enough,” you say, finally stepping out of Kaiser’s grip. You check your watch; there’s still a little time in the halftime break. Your eyes zero in on Shidou and you give him a stern glare. “We’re going to have a talk. Come with me.”

You turn on your heel and you don’t need to look back to know that Shidou’s following. Kaiser calls after the two of you, “Aww, finally decide to obey like a good dog!”

And much to your chagrin and great embarrassment, Shidou fucking barks back.

You lead him into the hallway that lead from the locker room and you say, “You can’t just go around kicking your teammates, you’re going to get into real trouble one day!”

“Aww, you care that much about me?”

“It’s literally my job to care about your public image.”

“Don’t got breaking my heart like that.”

You roll your eyes and scowl. “I literally just cleaned up one of your messes, Shidou. I need you to take it down.”

Shidou studies you for a few moments, eyes roaming your face. You squirm a little under his scrutiny and then Shidou takes a step towards you. You instinctively move back a step. One step forward, one back. Forward, back.

You grunt a little when you hit the opposite wall, Shidou crowding you against the wall. He leans in close, mouth right next to your ear. “I’ll tone it down on one condition.”

Your heart is about to beat out of its chest. “What is it?”

He smiles slyly and purrs, “Let me take you out.”

You dare to meet his gaze, shocked by its intensity. Your reply is so quiet, like it’s meant just for Shidou to hear. “Okay.”

His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Really?”

Your traitorous mouth lifts into a soft smile. “Yeah.” And Shidou beams.

You’ve learned that there are very few certainties in this world. But if there’s one thing you’re very certain of, it’s that (for better or worse) Shidou Ryusei can make your heart race.

[theforestghost]

The Consort and The Warlord Ch7

Summary: Megatron uses the All Spark to gain access to Cybertron and demands a peace treaty. An Autobot Consort is offered and Optimus is chosen. A Bonding Ceremony takes place and now Optimus has three vorn to figure out exactly what Megatron wants to do with Cybertron.

Pairing: Optimus Prime x Megatron

Continuity: Animated

Status: Ongoing

Optimus stopped, optics wide and stabilizers frozen. The femme ahead of him stopped as well, her multiple red optics locked onto him in just as much surprise. She recovered quickly however, as she bared her fangs and opened the door she was next to and closing it behind her. 

Optimus stood where he was for several nano-kliks. The femme had been very different from any other he'd seen. She was the same height as Ratchet, had several optics and her frame was strangely familiar to an organic creature he'd hope he'd never come across again. But there was something else about her that bugged him. He knew that femme, but he couldn't figure out for the life of him how. 

"Bossbot!"

Optimus broke from his thoughts and looked up to see Bulkhead, waving with a happy grin. Optimus waved back and decided to push the femme to the back of his processor for now. He'd come to visit Bulkhead after several cycles and he wouldn't let his processor get bogged down more than it already was. Walking up to the large green mech, he noticed that Shockwave was there as well. Bulkhead stepped forward and picked Optimus up in a tight hug. 

"You doing okay?" Bulkhead asked. 

"I think that's my question." Optimus said. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah! I mean the work is tough, but I'm having fun!" Bulkhead said.

"Most bots do not find the formulas for quantum physics, fun." Shockwave stayed bluntly. 

"But it is fun." Bulkhead said. "It's like putting a puzzle together."

Shockwave shook his helm. "The thoughts of a genius are unreasonable." He said with an ex-vent.

"Genius?" Optimus asked, looking up at Bulkhead. 

"I gave Bulkhead several tests and he scored amongst the top 0.01 percent for physics, quantum physics and quantum theory." Shockwave explained. "How he became a mere repair bot shows the incompetence of his instructors."

Bulkhead scratched his cheekplate, flushing at the praise. Optimus was clearly surprised, he knew Bulkhead always had a knack for space bridges, but he never thought that he was a genius. His chassis felt a bit tight; he should have paid closer attention to Bulkhead. 

"I'm glad he's finally getting the recognition he deserves." Optimus said. The large mech beamed down at his leader.

"Want to see what we made?" Bulkhead asked. He was eager and almost giddy. 

"Is it safe?" Optimus asked. He didn't know much about quantum physics but he knew it was dangerous.

"Of course! The reason we closed the science department before this was to make sure everything was safe and stable." Bulkhead explained. He began to push Optimus towards a door that led to the engineering department. 

The first room Optimus was in was messy, machines lined the wall along with desks covered in half built machinery. Scans dotted the area with readings Optimus couldn't even begin to understand. He had to step over thick tubing and he noted a medical berth off to the side with a bright light over it like some makeshift surgery table. Tools that made Optimus' tanks sink surrounded it and he was certain that the dried fluids were energon. Taking a glimpse back at Shockwave, Optimus remembered that this mech was and still is a feared mad scientist. 

Optimus was stopped outside an unsettlingly thick door that opened as Bulkhead pressed his servo to a scanner. A thick rush of cold air sent an alert to his hub as he entered the chilled room. The inside of the room was much neater than the previous one but cold air made the entire room feel like space. The center of the room was a large table, datapads, beakers, small machines and more were scattered about. At the very center of the table was a beaker with a small swirling blue orb.

"Isn't that a space bridge portal?" Optimus asked in surprise. He stood a bit closer and leaned down to peek into the beaker. 

"Yup!" Bulkhead said happily.

"Why is it in a beaker?" Optimus questioned.

"Because we made it small enough to fit in a beaker!" Bulkhead said. 

Optimus was still very much confused so he turned to Shockwave in hopes of a simpler answer. The warframe was checking some data and glanced back at them. 

"We managed to create our own space bridges but we decided to try see if we could make one without the bridge itself." Shockwave explained but seeing Optimus' confusion, he continued. "The space bridge itself acts as a coordination key but also as a stabilizer for the space bridge portal. It is capable of remaining open and stable due to the technology in the bridge and tends to be rather sensitive. A reason the Autobots deployed repair crews to keep constant maintenance on them.

"While Bulkhead is working on a better construction to strengthen the space bridges themselves, we decided to also work on a theory where a space bridge portal could function without the use of a space bridge itself." Shockwave said. "Unfortunately we cannot make it any larger or it becomes unstable and causes a massive suction."

"So you have a blackhole in a beaker." Optimus said, stepping away from the table.

"Kind of?" Bulkhead said with a laugh. "It's harmless right now but since it's constantly connected to the dimensional rift, we have to be careful. Megatron almost dropped the project when we did make a blackhole the first time."

"Lord Megatron was not amused with that miscalculation." Shockwave noted. "We managed to fix the formula but now it is only large enough to transport a cube."

"And we don't know where the cube goes." Bulkhead mentioned. "It isn't picking up the coordinates we insert since that was the job of the space bridge itself."

Optimus stared at Bulkhead and then back at the beaker before looking back at Bulkhead. "Do not let Bumblebee know you have a blackhole in a beaker."

"I wont!" Bulkhead laughed. 

"We should leave this room now, the readings are becoming unstable." Shockwave mentioned, gesturing towards the door.

They left swiftly and after a decontamination bath, due to possible radiation, Optimus sat on a stool as Shockwave prepared them energon. Bulkhead shook off the last of the disinfectant from his digits.

"What do you think?" Bulkhead asked.

"It's amazing." Optimus said honestly. "Science isn't my strong point, but I can tell you're working hard."

Bulkhead smiled brightly at the praise. "You know, I was so excited about working with space bridges that I didn't realize I'd be working with cons until I was already here." He explained. "But Shockwave and the others didn't ignore me or dismiss what I had to say. They listened and they asked for clarification. Shockwave is blunt and can be pretty rude, but he just wants to understand things correctly. Even Black Arachnia is easier to talk to."

"Black Arachnia is the other Science Lead, right?" Optimus asked. Bulkhead nodded. "Does she have multiple red optics and kind of small for a Decepticon?"

"That's her!" Bulkhead said. "Do you know her?"

Optimus shook his head. "I saw her in the hall and she glared at me." He said.

"Black Arachnia is a difficult bot to like." Shockwave stated, holding three cubes in his servos. He gave one to each of them as he sipped his own. "She seems to hate everybot and her loyalty to Lord Megatron is simply because he funds her research. I will admit that she is a talented scientist."

"She managed to create an energy efficient fuel that uses less energon consumption but still works the same." Bulkhead explained. "We are trying to get it to work for space bridges but it might not be strong enough."

"It is strong enough to power city states which is what Lord Megatron wants." Shockwave stated. "The less energon we have to spend on energy, the more we can have for fuel."

"I've noticed that DDecepticons ave very rich energon, even engex and energon goodies." Optimus noted. "The amount saved with this fuel must be substantial."

"Let's just say that this formula of hers is the only reason Lord Megatron keeps Black Arachnia in the ranks." Shockwave states. "Her other formulas tend to border on chemical warfare. Apparently that is her hobby."

"That's a nasty hobby." Bulkhead muttered as he put his cube down. "Was she born with the optics and appendages?"

"No, apparently that was caused by an accident stellar cycles ago." Shockwave said. "She is a techno-organic now but she used to be a full robotic organism like us."

Optimus froze and looked down at his servos. His cube was mostly full but he found himself no longer craving fuel. Black Arachnia got stuck in an accident and mutated… why did this bother him so much?

"Oi Bulkhead we've got some issues with the machine!"

A warframe Optimus didn't recognize stuck his helm out from a doorway. Bulkhead got up immediately and made his way to the warframe, stepping over thick wire bundles as he does. When he disappeared, Optimus slowly turned to Shockwave to see if he should get going soon since Bulkhead was now occupied.

"Are you and Lord Megatron in a disagreement?" Shockwave asked suddenly. 

Optimus flinched and leaned back. "H-how-why does everyone know that?" He stuttered. "And it wasn't a fight!"

"Lord Megatron’s mood has been down for the last couple of cycles." Shockwave explained. "Given that he isn't angry at anybot in particular, it is obvious that his mood has to do with you."

Optimus looked down at his servos again and frowned. He still didn't know what to do. His processor was going over every pro and con that each scenario has and all he can see is Cybertron going to war and not bring able to stop it. 

"I do not understand the turmoil you are currently in, Consort Optimus, but I do think it would be wise to at least speak with Lord Megatron about it." Shockwave stated. 

For a moment, Optimus thought he was talking to Longarm Prime again, but he pushed that thought to the side. Now wasn't the time to remember a mech who technically never existed. Now wasn't the time to falter. 

Standing up, Optimus thanked Shockwave and left. In the elevator, he found Lugnut waiting for him obediently. 

"Where is Megatron?" Optimus asked, the door closing behind them.

"LORD MEGATRON SHOULD BE IN HIS OFFICE THIS CYCLE!" Lugnut stated.

"Take me to him." Optimus said. 

Lugnut nodded and pressed a certain button on the elevator. It took them to a floor in the middle of the tower. This floor was packed with bots going about their business and Optimus was almost worried he'd get crushed until Lugnut led him to a different elevator. Inside was only a scanner and after pressing his servo to it, Lugnut leaned forward to allow an optic scan. The lights in the elevator dimmed as they began a long ascent to the top of the tower.

They went higher than Optimus' habsuite, most likely to the very top floor given the time it took. When I finally came to a stop, they were greeted with an open hallway not unlike any others. Walking down it, they came to a door, guarded by two large warframes who acknowledged Lugnut with a nod before bowing deeply to Optimus. The last action twisted his gut, but Optimus ignored it and stepped closer to the door.

"Lord Megatron is in a meeting." One of yhe guards stated.

Optimus looked out at the sky from the window. It was only midday. "I'll wait." He said, taking a spot against the wall and leaning against it. 

Hadeen began to set before the door to Megatron’s office opened and a mech with a deep blue frame and red visor left. Optimus still stood against against wall, Lugnut seated on the floor beside him looking absolutely bored. Optimus had gone through plenty of discipline training as a cadet so he was used to standing and waiting. The Decepticon with the visor stopped in front of Lugnut but nodded for the guard to inform Megatron of their guest. 

"Soundwave: Shocked at deplorable state of Lugnut." The new mech spoke.

Lugnut stood up immediately, towering over the smaller warframe. "I AM NOT DEPLORABLE!" Lugnut shouted. 

"Soundwave: Thinks otherwise. Lugnut: sitting around as Consort Optimus stands." Soundwave argued. 

"Consort Optimus, you can enter now." The guard said, gesturing for Optimus to enter.

Optimus decided to ignore the arguing cons behind him and entered the office. The inside was bare of anything unnecessary, only a few gem statues for decoration. The desk was piled up with datapads, several consoles and shelves lined the walls. Many held locks on them to prevent wandering servos from snatching important information. The only vent in the room was directly above the desk where Megatron sat. 

The warlord was engrossed in his datapads, not noticing as Optimus came to stand in front of the desk. It took almost a klik for Megatron to glance up and he did a double take when he saw Optimus. Standing up, Megatron immediately walked around the desk. 

"How long have you been waiting?" Megatron asked. 

"Just since midday." Optimus said.

"The guard should have let you in." Megatron scolded. "Are you okay?"

Optimus squirmed in his spot, digits locking together. "I need to speak with you." He said, trying to sound confident. 

Megatron noticed Optimus' discomfort and offered him to take a seat at a sitting area that was off to the side. Optimus sat down, staying at the edge of the large chair as Megatron sat down beside him. 

"Did you want any fuel?" Megatron offered but Optimus shook his head. "What did you need to speak about then?"

Optimus felt a lump in his throat and tried to swallow it. He'd spent all the time he'd waited thinking about how to speak with Megatron. He just needed his voicebox to work properly. Static came our and he coughed to clear his systems. Megatron seemed confused and worried about his situation but Optimus tried once more to speak.

"I'm… confused." Optimus finally spoke. He looked up at Megatron who nodded for him to continue. "I've spent the last few cycles going over everything and I just can't understand anything. I'm an Autobot, I swore my loyalty to Ultra Magnus and I made a vow to protect Cybertron no matter what. But with everything going on, I can't do both… I may not be able to do either!"

"What is going on?" Megatron asked. 

"You don't know?" Optimus asked. "Don't you still have spies in Iacon?"

"Of course I do, but I haven't heard anything from them since we entered Kaon." Megatron stated. Shockwave had been his key point of communication, without him, messages took much longer to arrive. 

"Iacon and the Council are split. Some want peace, they want to accept you and the Decepticons and give you a chance, but a majority want to drive you off of Cybertron, even if it means war." Optimus explained as clearly as he could despite how stressed he was. He shouldn't be giving this information to Megatron, but he couldn't figure out a solution on his own… and maybe he could see the true colors of the warlord. 

"How do you know this?" Megatron asked. 

"I have my own spy in Iacon." Optimus said sheepishly. "He came here the other cycle to tell me what happened."

"So that's who you were speaking with." Megatron said, sounding almost relieved. "Wait, he got into our habauite?"

"He's a cyberninja." Optimus explained. "He told me that the Council is letting the civillians panic over the situation and Ultra Magnus isn't trying to help anybot! And I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing!

"I was sent as a spy to see what your true intentions are and after three Vorn, I'm supposed to report back and Ultra Magnus said he'd somehow break the bond and I was never told anything past that! But you actually want peace and my team are happy and finally have bots that treat them with respect and if I leave, they can't just stay here, especially if we go to war! And if we do go to war, so many civillians will get dragged into it, so much of Cybertron would get destroyed and so many lives will be lost, but if I stay here… if I stay, they could say you're holding me hostage and try to drag you down another way or I'll just be written off as a traitor and start the war anyway and-"

"Optimus!" Megatron said loudly.

Optimus flinched and looked up at Megatron with wide optics. The warlord was kneeling in front of him, large servos on his arms, holding him steady but not too hard. From the expression on the warlord's faceplate, he'd been calling his name for a while. Optimus realized his vents were running high; he was hyperventilating. Shaking, Optimus looked up at Megatron.

"Focus on me." Megatron said. "Don't think, just focus on me."

Slowly, Optimus let his focus stay on Megatron. Unable to look in his optics, Optimus focused on his chinplate. His vents began to slow, his frame began to lighten as his joints unlocked. After several kliks, Optimus was no longer in a state of panic and Megatron was now holding his servos. Stroking the back of them gently, Megatron let out a hum as he looked Optimus in the optic. 

"You have had a lot on your processor." Megatron said. 

"I-I don't know what to do." Optimus spoke, his voice cracking. 

"What do you want to do?" Megatron asked. Optimus shook his head. "I am sure you know, you just keep overthinking things. What is most important to you?"

Optimus remained silent. He watched as Megatron continued to stroke the back of his servos and he couldn't help but notice how nice it felt. Closing his optics, Optimus let his vents settle. Looking up to Megatron, he met his optics with a determined expression. 

"My vow to protect Cybertron." He said. 

Megatron smiled and stood up, still holding Optimus' servos. Optimus stood up, stumbling slightly as Megatron led him to stand between the chairs. 

"That is what I wanted to hear." Megatron spoke softly. "Now, in order to protect Cybertron, what do you intend to do?"

Optimus looked up at Megatron, trying not to look too embarrassed at being held so close to the warlord. He didn't mind it as much as he probably should've.

"I can't decide right now." Optimus said. "I don't know enough… and I really can't make a decision without speaking with Ultra Magnus first."

"That is an acceptable answer." Megatron stated. "It seems I will have to wait patiently for the next two vorn."

"I feel like I should apologize though." Optimus said carefully. Megatron gave him a look of confusion. "I did reveal that Ultra Magnus wanted to make an excuse to break the bond which is very inappropriate."

"I had always believed that he would attempt such a plan." Megatron admitted. "I still highly doubt he'd let one of his beloved Primes stay Bonded to me of all mechs."

"I'm not one of his beloved Primes." Optimus frowned. "I'm the spare."

"Maybe to others but Ultra Magnus seemed very disappointed at our bonding ceremony." Megatron explained. "I do not think he wanted to hand you over."

Optimus flushed at this but looked away with a frown. "Either way, this entire situation feels weird." He said. 

"How so?" Megatron asked.

"You know that I am here to spy on you and my superior wants to break the bonding." Optimus said. "And you are okay with it!"

Megatron simply chuckled. "I believe we should resign for the cycle, tomorrow you will be joining me in a meeting with all of my generals."

"I need a break." Optimus ex-vented.

"Afterwards little one." Megatron promised. 

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

okay i feel like this is a generally accepted idea now , that adrian would 100% but you snacks at a 7/11 in his vigilante uniform covered in blood. BUT i think if a certain pandemic did exist in his universe , and he forgot to bring his regular face mask with him, he would 100% wear the vigilante mask with his regular clothes cause … ya know … COVID. but he would just make sure to pay in cash to avoid being recognized.

He so would 😂 and he’d try and play it off like he’s totally not vigilante and the clerk is like yeah okay

Vigilante buying snacks headcannons

-Let’s face it, 7/11 workers absolute hate when he comes in, because he’s always covered in blood and who knows what dripping it all over the floor they just cleaned

- Rummaging through the aisle for your favorite snacks and just opening up bandaids in the aisle and plastering them over his suit to the stop the bleeding for now.

- He’ll just saunter up to the counter with all the goodies in his arms, covered in paw patrol or Barbie bandaids. Dropping it all on the counter in a heap

- While they check his item he’ll be bragging about his latest kill and gushing about you, he definitely pulls out his wallet and it has a mile long album of photos that fall out in a neat little line

- He’ll just go through each one and shoving the pictures in the cashiers face like “look how hot my partner is, so hot ain’t they? And they think I’m so hot I mean just look at me. I’m here to buy them their favorite snacks because I love them so fucking much.”

- And the cashier is just like “that’s nice but you owe me $87.50” and vigilante just takes his items before breaking through the window without paying for anything and he does that every time he comes and they always have to replace the window

- From then on there’s a sign on the register that says if that idiot in a suit comes in not to charge him for anything because he’ll just break the window or damage the store on his way out

- if covid was going on he’d definitely try and go in with the vigilante mask on

- like he’d be just driving his “vigilante mobile” on his way home from busing tables all day, and you’d call asking if he could bring home some slurpees

- he’d totally agree because he’s a fucking simp for you

- but he had thrown his mask away at work and the store is a mask only place so he’d have to dig his vigilante mask out of his backseat.

- He’d try and disguise his mask by layering his glasses over the mask, and he’d be like I’m totally unrecognizable now I’m a genius!

- he’d walk in the store and get a couple weird looks which he’d try and play off. Acting like it’s perfectly normal to wear a full on face mask with glasses over, and a sweater with khaki pants.

- The guy that checks him out at the counter would just be like “aren’t you that vigilante guy?”

- Adrian would be like “Pfffft Nooooo I’m totally not him. Not at all. Nope not me.” Cycling though his various fake voices to disguise his true identity

- “but you’re wearing his mask.”

-“Look man, I’m just a fan, I mean how can you not be a fan of a totally hunk like vigilante.”

- “Whatever your total is $5.00.”

- Adrian would pull out a wad of cash that was sealed with a rubber band, searching the bloodied cash for a five.

- He’d pull out a crumbled hundred and be like do you have change? The cashier would just shake his head and Adrian would make a run for the door

- He’d show up at your house a little while later, slurpees in hand and that vigilante mask still on his face. You’d just laugh and pull him inside

[magicpotatoobsession]

GIVEN | Every EASTER EGG in Fuyu no Hanashi ~orchestra version~ that had me in tears

Thanks to everyone who read my previous post The GENIUS OF FUYU NO HANASHI is in the melody itself. BUT OMG HOLY HECK this orchestral version is

MUSICALLY PAINTING Mafuyu's whole journey of grief, love and healing! 😭❤️‍🩹🙏

Allow me to walk you through what is happening symbolically in the music that is painting Mafuyu’s growth!

[I timestamped and linked everything in purple for your convenience I recommend reading this post and listening to all my links for optimal appreciation experience]

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Mafuyu, now several years into his professional music career with Given the band, has finally made it onto the big stage. He emerges from behind the curtains into the spotlight in a gorgeously fitted suit. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Then we see Ugetsu sitting in first violin and concertmaster position because this version starts off with a MAGNIFICENT VIOLIN SOLO 😭😍😩

Symbolically, it represents Ugetsu is right there performing with Mafuyu!!

Akihiko is there as well sitting beside Ugetsu in first desk!*

*as you read on, you'll see why I know that Akihiko is there.

This version is super interesting because it utilises a musical-theatre style of orchestration, similar to the orchestration from Rodgers and Hammerstein's musicals i.e. Sound of Music, The King and I, Cinderella (I've added Youtube links so you can reference the style of music I'm talking about). Every instrument of the orchestra has their own little moment to shine. This symbolises the wonderful people in Mafuyu's life that's supporting him on his journey of healing.

The harmonic progression is more spicy, full of colour and less "sad" than the original version but still based on the Cycle of 5ths to represent eternal love, symbolising that Yuki will always have a place in Mafuyu's heart.

Then Mafuyu starts singing, it's beautiful and so soulful, the style is reminiscent of those old black and white romance films! Compared to the original, Mafuyu's voice is much more refined here!

he has amazing control of the tone of his chest voice

there is no harshness at all but still full of emotion

Mafuyu also has amazing consistent vibrato

he knows exactly when to pull back or add more gusto

So @deep-fried-brain-cells is absolutely right in her post that Shogo Yano intentionally made his voice sound like an amateur singer in the original version and here is him unleashing his full talent as a singer! What a fucking champ!

I love this version so much because it really conveys that Mafuyu now as a professional is looking back on

Yuki like a cherished memory, grateful to have had Yuki as his first love.

He's also looking back on his journey and recognises how far he has come as a person and as a musician. Here, he is much more confident at expressing himself. (GAHHH I'm so proud of him!!!)

WHAT'S MORE FASCINATING IS THAT orchestration written in the musical-theatre style usually hides

🐣MUSICAL EASTER EGGS🐣

everywhere that can symbolically reference a lot of things like character themes, motifs that represent certain emotions etc.

BY RECOGNISING THESE, 2 THINGS DAWNED ON ME:

1. Ugetsu and Akihiko are musically supporting Mafuyu throughout this entire performance!!!

Ugestu and Akihiko know exactly how Mafuyu is feeling throughout the performance! They understand the pain and relief that comes with letting go of someone you love and moving on. So they are musically conversing with Mafuyu to reassure him and relate to him!!!

2. Fuyu no Hanashi ~Orchestra vers.~ references EVERY SINGLE GIVEN SONG EVER RELEASED

Other than Uragawa no Sonzai which was released at the same time as this version, it features both the Given anime OP (Kizuato) and ED song (Marutsuke) , Given movie theme song (Bokura dake no shudaika) and the TWO EXTRA SONGS (Stagekara kiminisagagu and Hetakuso) on the Gift Album released last year!!! 🤯 🤯 🤯

🕰Have a listen to these timestamps!!!🕰

(Apologies, the emojis don't completely match the instruments but it's just to help anyone without much musical training to recognise the sounds more easily!)

0:00 🎻🎻Ugetsu (violin) starts the piece followed by Akihiko and the rest of the strings play the Fuyu no Hanashi melody. They start this performance because they can relate to Mafuyu's feeling of loss of a loved one.

0:10 🎻the strings also reference Bokura dake no Shudaika from the Given movie, it's that tune from the strings that comes between the lines "We can't go back anymore." and "I am here, hey look at me." This is Mafuyu accepting that the past is the past.

1:16 -🎺the french horn reference Marutsuke as Mafuyu is singing "all of you have lost its tomorrow". It is speaking on behalf of Mafuyu, saying "I wonder I wonder, I'm ensuring all the answers while searching for it" The word Marutsuke means - circling the correct answer. Mafuyu here is saying that we are all just trying our best to figure out life as we are living it.

1:44 -🎷is a clarinet referencing Stagekara kiminisasagu as Mafuyu is singing "You'll always be beside me". It is speaking on behalf of Mafuyu, saying "I dedicate this to you from the stage" I think the you references both Yuki and Uenoyama.

2:21 - 🎺the french horn references Marutsuke again as Mafuyu is singing "what kind of tomorrow should I look for?". It is speaking on behalf of Mafuyu, saying "I wonder I wonder, I'm ensuring all the answers with no answers/with hope" Mafuyu is saying that sometimes life just can't provide the answers but we must try and live with positivity not knowing all the answers. Trying our best in life together with our loved ones is all we need to do.

2:34 - 🎻when Mafuyu shouts "AHHHH" Ugetsu (violin) really be showing us his full capability as an internationally renowned violinist through this ridiculously hard violin solo! He references Fuyu no Hanashi the melody again, talking to Mafuyu through music by stating,"I understand what you're going through. I've also been there."

2:50 - 🎻🎻Akihiko joins in with Ugetsu, playing this AGONISINGLY BEAUTIFUL violin duet* that sends me straight to heaven.

*the violin duet is the thing that confirmed it for me that Akihiko is also there on stage playing alongside Ugetsu!

3:02 - Akihiko and Ugetsu (strings) reference Yoru Ga Akeru! They are literally saying to Mafuyu "It's okay. You will be okay." and "Dawn’s about to break."

3:02 - 🎻Also if you listen really carefully, the lower strings reference Kizuato and specifically the melody of the line, "Whatever you left behind became all of me."

3:08 - 🎺The trumpet references the opening/ending guitar riff in Hetakuso!!! It is speaking on behalf of Mafuyu, saying "It doesn't matter if we can't express ourselves well. Let me hear your voice because that's all I need to keep living" Mafuyu here is talking about Mafuyama and how even though sometimes miscommunication happens, trying your best to communicate is all that matters.

3:40 - 🎻as Mafuyu sings the line"that's the whole story," Akihiko and Ugetsu (strings) are playing the EXACT MELODY that Mafuyu's singing, as if once again relating to him "We share the same story of finally able to move on and find healthy love." For Ugetsu, he found self-love where he is finally starting to practise self-care and for Akihiko, he found Haruki!

4:22 - 🎺As Mafuyu sings the last word of the song, "Together", the french horns reference Kizuato and specifically the melody of the line, "Whatever you left behind became all of me." But here holds a👏positive connotation👏!!! The supporting chord is in C major (happy and hopeful) so this line actually takes on another meaning of Yuki leaving behind his guitar now makes Mafuyu feel grateful because he found a love and purpose of expressing himself and helping others express themselves through music. Through music, Yuki and Mafuyu will always be together!

4:28 - 🎺Brass (trumpets and trombones) once again reference the same strings melody in Bokura dake no Shudaika stating that "our treasured memories will become a theme song that is ours." MafuYuki's theme song is Fuyu no Hanashi! BUT THIS VERSION is Mafuyama's theme song which captures all the pain, gratefulness and love in their relationship!

4:34 - 🎻🎻the song then finishes with Ugetsu and Akihiko HOLDING onto a beautiful high note on their violins before the rest of the orchestra comes in with a satisfying grand chord. This is Ugetsu and Akihiko musically saying "It's so important to HOLD onto hope that it's ok, everything will be ok."

😭🤯😩❤️😭🤯😩❤️😭🤯😩❤️

🐣SOME ARE HARDER TO CATCH BUT TRUST ME IF YOU KEEP REPEATING THEM, I'M SURE YOU CAN PICK THEM UP! THESE ARE ALL THE ONES I FOUND SO FAR! IF YOU FIND ANY OTHERS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!🐣

INCREDIBLE RIGHT?!!! Ok, what you're about to read below is what made me bawl uncontrollably for an hour straight. 😭😭😭

🎵Quick Music Theory Lesson with Magic Potato 🎵

All the links are youtube videos explain these concepts in more detail if you're curious to learn more.

🔑 A HOME KEY is like the identity or soul of a piece of music. Generally speaking, 1 key can be in 2 different forms, major or minor. E.g. the key of C can form as C major or C minor. Major keys usually sound HAPPY and Minor keys sound SAD.*

🔑❤️🔑 RELATIVE KEYS are 2 keys that share the same key signature and notes. In other words, they share the same identity and soul.**

🏁 CADENCE refers to how a piece or section of music RESOLVES. In order for a piece of music to portray certain moods and emotions, music can RESOLVE in different cadences to achieve said mood or emotion. If you want to achieve sense of satisfaction or peace, you want your music to RESOLVE to the HOME KEY🔑. Whatever chord progressions you use must go back to -> Chord I, the HOME KEY so that the music can regain its true identity.***

I hope I explained everything well! I'LL BE REFERRING TO ALL THESE POINTS LATER ON! The *Asterisks* mark what point I'm referring to!

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*Ok so, the original version is in the HOME KEY🔑 of F major (Chord I)

***It finishes in Bb (chord IV) so musically speaking,

The original Fuyu no Hanashi song is NOT properly resolved.🥲

This is what we call an INTERRUPTED CADENCE 🏁 in music. It didn't resolve back to the HOME KEY🔑 of F major. This symbolically represents that even though it was cathartic for Mafuyu and he wanted to move on, he couldn't get over Yuki completely after singing in the first-live.

***In Fuyu no Hanashi ~orchestra ver.~, it’s in the HOME KEY🔑 of Eb major and its ending finally resolves 🏁 to Chord I, HOME KEY! Satisfaction and peace is achieved in the music because it has regained its true identity. 😌

Ok, what’s crazy is that

*Eb major is the home key🔑 that musically represents Mafuyama!

Please bear with me! In order to understand how amazing all this is, we have to rewind a bit and talk about the Given OST/background music. The wonderful Given OST Composer, Michiru (she’s so underrated omg)

*purposefully crafted Mafuyu's instrumental theme, "MAFUYU'S DREAM"(Mafuyu no Yume) in the KEY🔑 of C#.

Mafuyu is musically represented by the KEY🔑 of C# in the Given Anime and Movie!

MAFUYU'S DREAM comes on as the very 1st track in Episode 1 where Mafuyu is holding tightly onto Yuki's guitar, looking dissociated and numb on his way to school.

*It's in the KEY🔑 of C# minor (sad) and symbolically represents Mafuyu stuck in grief.

Mafuyu is represented by PIANO🎹 if he's not singing and it's a purely instrumental track. This is because Centimillimental plays the piano and sings and Centimillimental embodies Mafuyu, I explain this in my blog on Uragawa no Honzai.

The Given ED song Marutsuke in the first episode is just a pure PIANO 🎹 track! And then the moment Mafuyu sings, we get the Marusuke version that we all know and love. This confirmed for me that Mafuyu is represented by the PIANO 🎹 in the Given OST!

Marutsuke is in the KEY🔑 of C# major, it sounds more hopeful and shows that Mafuyu is slowly healing!

Then Michiru,

*purposefully crafted Uenoyama's theme, "SUNNY PLACE" (Yo Atari no Yoi Basho) in the HOME KEY🔑 E!

What’s so incredible about these 2 keys is that

**C# and E are RELATIVE KEYS 🔑❤️🔑

They share the same key signature and notes, meaning that Mafuyu and Uenoyama are actually SOULMATES! 🤯🤯🤯

Seriously! Please listen and compare the 2 tracks! You'll hear how Mafuyu and Ue's theme share the same soul and aura! 🤯🤯🤯

SUNNY PLACE comes on as the very 2nd track we hear in the Anime and it plays the moment Uenoyama meets Mafuyu in Ep 1.

It's mostly featuring GUITAR 🎸which is Ue's main instrument!

Pay close attention to how at timestamp 0:05, the PIANO🎹comes in to show Mafuyu and Uenoyama’s first encounter with each other!

*Now this track is completely grounded in HOME KEY🔑of E major (joyful) to show just how warm and open Ue is. It also hints to us that

Ue is the one that's going to melt Mafuyu's frozen heart.

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Now as you can see, all the background OST music featured in Given anime and movie MUSICALLY PAINTS Ue defrosting Mafuyu!

❄️ WINTER snow has been melted by C# minor 🔑❤️🔑

☀️ SUMMER E major 🔑❤️🔑

However, Fuyu no Hanashi ~Orchestra ver.~ is in the HOME KEY🔑 of Eb major and that actually represents Mafuyama!

Our singer Mafuyu overcame his parental and romantic trauma and discovered his love and self-expression of music with the help of Ue

Our composer Uenoyama learnt how to communicate, empathise and be patient with Mafuyu and Mafuyu helped him recognise and be comfortable with his sexuality !!!

This musically illustrates that they both put in the work and grew as individuals to unite as 🔑ONE🔑 power couple!

Mafu C# minor -> Eb major 🔑

Yama E major -> Eb major 🔑

I’m actually speechless … isn’t this SO INSANE???!! 😍😍😍

I'm not done yet BAHAHA there is one last thing!

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🏁 How this ~orchestral ver.~ of Fuyu no Hanashi resolves 🏁

***Most music if they really want a "perfect" sense of satisfaction, they go for the Perfect Cadence of resolving Chord V -> Chord I.

But in this version of Fuyu no Hanashi, it resolves

Chord VI (Cb major) -> Chord VII (C#/Db major) -> Chord I (same as Chord VIII in Eb major)

by RISING UP to the HOME KEY🔑 of Eb major!

Symbolically it represents that Mafuyu and Ue learnt that they don’t need to be perfect people or have a perfect relationship

They are both just grateful that they are trying their best, help RAISE each other’s self esteem and make each other grow as individuals

These chords parallel Yoru Ga Akeru's ending chords, musically painting, "Dawn’s about to break." 🌅🌅🌅

In conclusion, Fuyu no Hanashi ~orchestra version~ RESOLVES in the HOME key of Eb because they both feel at HOME with each other thanks to Ue raising Mafuyu's self-esteem and his strong RESOLVE to fight for a future with both Mafuyu and music in it. Hint Mix_14/Ch 44

It tells us that

MAFUYU WILL ALWAYS CARRY YUKI WITH HIM BUT IS NO LONGER AFRAID OF LIVING TO HIS FULLEST BECAUSE HE HAS UE BY HIS SIDE.

Me: *Sobs uncontrollably for the foreseeable future*

Apologies for those who found the theory confusing, I tried to explain it as simply as I could! But all in all, I wanted to write this meta because when us composers/songwriters create music, every decision contributes to what mood and emotions the piece gives off! So essentially everything you feel about the Given songs and music were intentionally crafted by Centimilli, Michiru and Erika, right down to the rests in between the notes! THESE EMOTIONS WERE INTENTIONALLY CONSTRUCTED BY THEM and together with incredible performers, their combined efforts are the reasons why Given songs and music are addicting or make us teary listening to them on our car drive home ❤️☺️🙏

______

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BONUS CONTENT: This orchestral version of Fuyu no Hanashi shares the same HOME KEY🔑 Eb major as 1) Bokura dake no Shudaika, 2) Stagekara kiminisasagu, 3) Yoru Ga Akeru, 4) Hetakuso, 5) Kizuato and the new OVA single 6) Uragawa no Sonzai!!! Mafuyu is now

1) sharing his pain and love through this theme song for Yuki and Uenoyama - Bokura dake no Shudaika

2) dedicating this song from the stage to Yuki and Ue - Stagekara kiminisasagu

3) embracing the inevitable coming of dawn and moving onto a new love with Ue - Yoru Ga Akeru

4) facing the next winter without fear because he's with Ue - Hetakuso

5) being grateful to Yuki leaving behind his music and guitar. Music started out as a curse became Mafuyu's joy and purpose in life. "Whatever you left behind became my everything." - Kizuato

6) appreciating the love between him and Ue and how they make up for what each other lack. Uragawa no Sonzai

Also I'm pretty sure Centimillimental's favourite key is Eb 😆. A few of his other songs are also in that key. I have left my favourite ~orchestra version~ of Bokura dake no Shudaika down below so we can sob until we are completely dehydrated YAYYYYY . Unfortunately there is no full version, Centimillimental released this snippet for Tiktok T_T

I WANT TO GIVE CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE: Erika Fukazawa is the arranger of this orchestra version! Usually, it is the arranger who comes up with where to best place all the musical easter eggs....She must have worked really closely with Centimillimental but ultimately, she's the mastermind who figured out how spread the musical symbolism across a 50-piece ensemble that is an orchestra! Her other outstanding works include composing for the hit film, Kimi no Nawa Your Name!! 🤯🤯🤯 NO WONDER THIS VERSION OF FUYU NO HANASHI HAD ME CRYING FOR HOURS!!!

FYI Atsushi is Centimillimental's actual name. I can't seem to find the orchestra that played this!!! It's 100% a live orchestra, there is no denying that! If anyone knows, please tell me! Also if anyone finds out the names of the violinists who performed those solos, please share because I'd like bow down to them!

I hope that you found all these musical easter eggs as mindblowing as I did! Thanks for reading! 💕

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Masterlist of my Given Metas

If you like what you read, all I post is basically Given analysis content! Give my blog a follow to be notified of new posts! #metapotato

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidentally Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 6 | Having a bit too fun with our charming Captain America?

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: As Molly and Chris become friends, Tom becomes jealous and makes a terrible mistake. 

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

-

Tom came home carrying an enormous bouquet of lilies and roses he purchased on the way home. He bubbled with anxiety and excitement. His talk with Benedict had done him wonders. Until he opened the door to an empty house. He called out for Molly a few times but got no response. There was also no note. He slumped in a kitchen chair. His phone buzzed.

I’m on my way home. Sorry I didn’t leave a note. Hope you aren’t worried. I promise I’m fine!

Tom smiled at the message. He didn’t know why, but something gnawed at the back of his mind. He scrambled to his feet as he overheard the door opening.

“Tom?” Molly yelled into the house.

“In the kitchen, darling!” He fidgeted with the flowers behind his back. As he stared at the floor, a wide grin grew on his face.

“Molly, I…” His face fell as Evans walked in behind Molly.

“Look who stopped by and took me to lunch!” Molly squeaked.

Chris slung an arm over Molly’s shoulders. Tom’s fist clenched around the flowers behind his back.

“I hope you don’t mind me stealing your girl, Tom.” Chris smirked. “She said you were out to lunch with Benedict.”

“Not at all, Chris.” Tom lied. “I’m glad you could keep my wife company.”

“Pleasure was all mine, pal. She is,” Chris gazed down at Molly with a look that made Tom want to leap across the kitchen counter and strangle Chris. “a pretty special girl.”

“Chris!” Molly smacked his hand. “You are too kind. Thank you for a lovely lunch.” She squeezed his torso.

“And don’t forget about tomorrow. We will find decent margaritas in this city if it kills us.”

“You’re on. But you know I have discerning taste when it comes to my liquor.”

“That makes two of us.”

Molly and Chris giggled. “Let me show you out, Chris.” Tom offered.

Molly smiled over at Tom and noticed his hand behind his back.

“What’s that, darling?”

“What?” Tom’s brows knitted.

“Behind your back.” Molly strolled towards him and peeked around Tom. “Are those for me?”

Tom pulled the flowers out. “They are. I thought you might want them to brighten up the house.”

Molly gasped at the beautiful arrangement. “They are stunning, love.” She wrapped an arm around Tom’s neck and pecked his lips. “Thank you. I love them.”

Tom leaned down for another kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth when Molly sighed.

Chris cleared his throat and hooked his thumb towards the front of the house.

“I’ll just see myself out.”

Molly pulled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tom trailed kisses down her neck, tickling her skin. She giggled as Chris waved and walked away.

“What has gotten into you?” she teased as she pushed Tom back.

“Just selling the relationship. We are newly married.” Tom commented, kissing her cheek.

“Oh.”

Tom’s answer disappointed Molly. Somewhere deep inside, that place she never admits to having Molly wanted Tom to want her for more than just a PR stunt. She wanted him to love her as much as he pretended to. But it seemed clear Tom was content on keeping things professional.

“That is the plan, after all?”

“Yeah.” Molly shook her head. “So how was lunch with Ben?”

“Good. You’re going out with Chris again?” Tom’s heart sank further down as he shelved plans to tell Molly how he felt. Evans ruined that.

“He is staying in town for a few days and with you doing auditions and meetings tomorrow, Chris thought I could use some company.” She went to grab a vase for the flowers.

“I bet he did.” Tom muttered.

“What’s that?” Molly twisted her head around.

“I said how nice of him.”

Molly smiled. “It is. He is so funny too! The stories he tells.”

Tom inhaled sharply. “Think you can pry yourself from the Captain to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Anything for you.” She cupped his cheek. “Now what would you like for dinner tonight?”

“Whatever you would like, love. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Molly marched over to him and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “That is the second time you have said something like that. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

Tom pulled back. “I’m fine. There’s no need to fuss.”

Molly pursed her lips. “After you drove me to urgent care, filled my prescriptions, let me sleep in your bed, and took care of my every need for three days, you can bet your sweet ass I’m fussing.” She touched his forehead again. “Hmm. I can’t tell if you have a fever. Go lie down in the living room and I’ll bring you dinner.”

“But I…”

“Go!” She jabbed a finger at the door. “I will not have you getting sick on my hands.”

Tom held up his hands in defeat. “Yes, ma’am.”

Molly came in with a steaming bowl of a beef stew she whipped up with leftovers in the fridge and on the side some thick slices of a crusty bread she picked up a few days ago. A heavy slash of butter on top. She arranged it on a tray for Tom.

“Arms and knees up.” she commanded. Tom complied, tucking up his knees. Molly set down the tray and then settled into the spot once occupied by Tom’s feet. “Eat up.”

Tom blew onto a spoonful before taking a bite. He moaned as he swallowed. “That is exquisite, Molly. What is it?”

“Leftover stew.” Molly took a bite herself.

“You made this with the leftovers?”

“You learn to get creative with the spice cabinet.”

“Foster care?” Tom asked quietly, teeth crunching through the crust of the bread.

“College. Financial aid only goes so far. I couldn’t let food go to waste. I became famous or rather infamous in the dorm freshman year with what I could with a microwave. A modern witch, they called me.”

“You have certainly bewitched me, darling.” Tom commented without thinking. “With your cooking.” he covered. “You are a genius in that kitchen. I will have to learn some of the recipes before year’s end.”

Molly gazed up at him, pained. He was already talking about when all of this was over. Tom quickly changed the subject.

“Tell more about college. I imagine it was rather different from my experience.” Tom ate another spoonful of stew, warming his insides.

“Where did you matriculate?” Molly teased in a haughty tone.

“Cambridge.”

She let loose a low whistle. “You really are Mr. Fancy Pants.”

“With a degree in Classics.”

Molly giggled. “And I thought a tourism degree was useless.”

“Enough about me. I’m boring. Tell me about you.”

-

They talked about college, about how hard summers were when the dorms closed and Molly would couch surf while working summer jobs.

“I had amazing friends.” she whispered. “I am forever in their debt.”

Tom reached over and pulled her to his chest. “I am so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I’m not.” She snuggled against him. “Our experiences make us who we are. The good and the bad. I would have preferred an easier life. I would prefer not to freeze every time someone raises their voice, but that’s not me.” she sighed and the tears fell onto Tom’s shirt.

Tom smoothed down Molly’s hair. “I’m sorry to upset you. Let’s talk about happy things.”

“What are those?” she chuckled softly.

“How about this?” He stared down at her tucked under the crook of his arm. “Tell me about some of the craziest things you’ve seen as a bartender in Vegas?”

Molly laughed. “How about the one about the guy who peed on a blackjack table?”

“This I must hear.” Tom chuckled.

-

Tom woke up on the couch that next morning. Molly’s messy bun tickling his chin.

“Molly…” He groaned as he sat up. “… I have to get up, darling.”

Molly burrowed deeper into Tom’s chest and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her. He kissed her temple. She hummed and sighed. Tom’s stomach clenched.

“Time to wake up. I need to shower.”

She slowly woke and stared at Tom, realizing the compromising position of their bodies. Molly scrambled away, blushing.

“So sorry.” She sat up. “I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

Tom cleared his throat. “I still have time.” Tom sat up and fiddled his hands in his lap. “You could always come with me. We could grab some lunch. You can see all of my ‘hard work’.” Tom gazed at her hopefully.

“I…” Molly pondered the offer. “can’t. I would only be in the way. And I have plans with Chris.”

“Chris, right.” Tom stood abruptly. “We wouldn’t want you to miss that.”

Molly gave a strained smile. “I already committed. But we are still having dinner?”

“Dinner, indeed. I’ll meet you at the restaurant at 6:30 p.m.”

Molly stood and hugged him. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

-

There was a knock on the door exactly when Chris said he would come by. Molly opened the door to find Chris leaned against the frame in jeans and a henley. A devastating combination.

“Hey babe, I have an Uber and a list of five Mexican restaurants with great promise. Ready to find the perfect margarita?”

“I am.” She stepped out with a smile. Chris slung his arm over her shoulder. Molly leaned in for a bit. Just long enough for a camera to click.

-

“That first place was awful!” Molly howled in the back of the Uber as they made their way to the next place.

Chris laughed next to her. “I never knew they could make tortillas out of rubber.”

Molly’s phone buzzed. It was Luke. She switched off the phone.

“Anything important?” Chris leaned over to glance at the screen.

“Just Luke. Tom’s publicist. It is probably just something about an upcoming event. I’ll ring him back later.” Molly shrugged before tucking the phone back into her purse. “Now an important question.”

“Which is?”

“Strawberry or Lime?”

“Lime all the way.”

“A purist, I like that.”

Chris burst into laughter.

-

Tom struggled against his sour disposition through most of his auditions and lunch. It wasn’t until he got to the restaurant for dinner Tom listened to Luke’s voicemail. Which led him to googling himself for the first time in years.

“Fuck!” He hissed louder than he wanted to, drawing the attention of a nearby couple. He forced a smile and gave a small wave.

Molly slipped into the chair. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. I lost track of time and then traffic.”

Tom’s fists clenched. “Having a bit too fun with our charming Captain America?” He spit at her.

Molly blinked at him. “What do you mean by that? I was with Chris. He seems like a nice guy.”

“And you are such a friendly girl.” Tom continued to speak in a clipped tone.

“Tom, what’s wrong?” She reached out for Tom’s hand, but he pulled it back.

“This is what’s wrong.” Tom slid his phone over to her.

Molly scrolled through the pictures with increasing horror. The headlines read: Hiddleston Marriage on the Rocks? Tom’s New Bride Steps Out with Captain America Himself.

“I… I…” Molly sputtered, handing the phone back. Hot tears hit her cheeks.

Tom threw his napkin down. “We’re leaving. Keep a smile on as we leave and when we get home. No need to give the paparazzi more fodder.”

Molly stood in a daze and Tom snatched her elbow roughly to lead her out of the restaurant. As they walked outside, Tom leaned in.

“Wrap your arm around my waist and laugh like I said something funny.”

Molly snaked her arm around him and Tom pulled her tight against him. They both threw their heads back in laughter until they got into the taxi, where Tom’s expression fell into a cold mask.

Molly sniffled with stifled sobs the entire way home. Tom took no effort to sooth her. He was… cold and detached. They repeated the charade from the restaurant up the stairs to the front door. Tom had to hold back from slamming the door.

“How could you have been so stupid?!” Tom hissed, slamming his keys onto the table.

“Don’t call me stupid. I was just going out with a friend.”

“A handsome movie star!”

“Not unlike my husband! In fact, Chris called you a close friend.” Molly raised her voice.

“He would say anything to take you from me!” Tom yelled.

Molly froze and her head dropped, shoulders hunching forward. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“How else am I to make you understand, Molly?!” Tom continued to shout like someone crazed. He gestured wildly in the air. “You are forbidden to see him.”

“I want out.” Molly sobbed.

“What?” Tom snapped out of it. He glanced at Molly, only to see the damage he had done. Molly was all but curled in on herself. She sobbed freely, shoulders shaking. “Molly, I…”

“Don’t touch me.” She turned from his hand, reaching out to her. “Why is Chris different from your sister?”

“Because Emma isn’t trying to steal you from me.”

Molly chuckled. “You’re fucking jealous?! How rich! Chris is a nice guy! I used to say the same about you. I used to…” her voice trailed off.

“Used to what?” Tom sniped, tears of anger and hurt filling his own eyes. “Take pity on me? Poor Tom with shit taste in women?! Has to pay a girl to pretend to be his wife for the papers?!”

Molly reared back and slapped him. Tom held his cheek.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Molly screeched. “I’m leaving. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back.”

“Molly, please…” Tom begged.

“Fuck off, Tom!” Molly pushed past him. “I thought we were…” she sobbed. “But I guess not. It’s my own fucking fault.”

“What’s your fault, Molly?” Tom asked. “What’s your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Molly cried, defeated. “I was clearly wrong about you.”

“Wrong how?” Tom’s heart shattered as she walked away, returning with a small bag.

“Goodbye, Tom. Don’t worry, I’ll be discrete. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your good guy image?” she sneered before heading to the door.

“Where will you go?” Tom grew more desperate as the reality of his actions set in.

“Away from you. Other than that, I don’t much care.” The front door slammed behind her.

Tom collapsed onto the couch and his head fell into his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. FUCK!” he screamed into the void of his empty house.

[robininthelabyrinth]

I've got a HC that could be a prompt if you're interested? Due to grinding his teeth & holding all his stress in his jaw JC's jaw just totally locks up for from a few hours to a day or so. Obvs he tries to hide it from everyone, but it always happens at inconvenient (ie stressful) times. (Cultivation conferences, every time he makes up his mind to go to Gusu and finally hash things out with WWX, when he really wants to shout at JL for something stupid & can suddenly only mumble, etc. Whatever)

Living with Lan Wangji had taught Wei Wuxian the many different flavors of silence.

After all, his husband was not an especially emotive man – it was all in the microexpressions, the curve of his eyes or the tilt of his brow – and yet he conveyed his meaning clearly, even without saying a word. Wei Wuxian learned to cherish the comfortable silences, to interrupt incipient brooding, to entice during the times when his husband was most definitely not thinking about his work…

Perhaps it was that experience that makes him realize – possibly for the first time in his new life – that there was something wrong with Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian had been extremely self-absorbed as a young man, in his first life, but he’d still known to keep his eye on his too-quiet, too-intense shidi, who usually locked his feelings away deep inside but not deep enough that Wei Wuxian couldn’t see. Even after their estrangement, he had been able to read him as easily as any book – every flinch and every start, every swallow, every shift of weight, a hundred stories of discomfort and confusion that he hated himself for not being able to assuage. For not being willing to assuage, because he, in his arrogance, had thought that through his silence he could keep Jiang Cheng from suffering even more pain.

In his new life –

Well. Wei Wuxian had long ago lost the right to hold the key to unlock the secrets of Jiang Cheng’s heart.

And yet, he was certain something was wrong. Jiang Cheng was glaring and scowling as always – possibly worse than always, because he didn’t have a choice about coming to the discussion conference even if it was in Gusu, even if that meant Wei Wuxian would be there – and he looked as immaculately put together as he always did in this strange future where the kid Wei Wuxian remembered dunking into ponds just the other day had turned into a cold-faced man who was feared instead of loved, but still. Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

It was his silence, Wei Wuxian decided. Jiang Cheng was staying quiet even when there was something that Wei Wuxian knew he cared about, not even greeting Jin Ling with more than a huff – though Jin Ling didn’t seem to mind – and it wasn’t a calm quiet, a content quiet, the contained and controlled quiet that Lan Wangji was.

It was wrong.

So maybe Wei Wuxian just happened to meander by the guest quarters for the Jiang sect on his nightly walk. It was totally accidental, even if it had never before happened while Jiang Cheng was in residence as a visiting sect leader. After all, Wei Wuxian had only lived at the Cloud Recesses a few years – anyone could get turned around.

“– should have said that it was getting this bad!”

That was Jin Ling’s voice, Wei Wuxian observed, and he “meandered” closer while keeping his tread as light as possible. It was late for Jin Ling to be here instead of back in the rooms reserved for the Jin sect; he should be getting some sleep in preparation for a busy day the next day.

Jiang Cheng should be telling him to get some sleep.

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t saying anything.

Wei Wuxian peeked through the window.

Jiang Cheng was sitting on the bed, Jin Ling crouched beside him, chattering angrily like an angry monkey as he applied a cold compress to the side of Jiang Cheng’s face.

“Don’t know what you were thinking,” he said mutinously, even though Jiang Cheng glared at him. “No, stop that – no glaring, no yelling, you heard what the doctor said. Did you take your medicine?”

Jiang Cheng nodded.

“And it’s still this bad? That’s not good, jiujiu.”

Jiang Cheng turned his head, a sudden jerk. He looked frustrated. He looked like he wanted to say something – but like he couldn’t.

Wei Wuxian felt something drop in his stomach.

“I know you already know that,” Jin Ling said, interpreting the silence as easily as Wei Wuxian used to, and then hesitated. “And I know you said you didn’t want to consider…you know the doctor says that the surgery would help a lot.”

Jiang Cheng shook his head furiously.

(Wei Wuxian’s gut churned. Surgery? Some necessary type of surgery, something was wrong, and Jiang Cheng refusing to fix it - was it because of him, what he’d done, back in that past life? Would Jiang Cheng recoil from all surgeries because of that one time when he didn’t have a choice about it, and in so doing cost himself his life - no, that Wei Wuxian’s actions would cost him his life, that Wei Wuxian would at long belated last drag him into the grave the way he had everyone else?)

“Listen, you might not have a choice. This is getting really, really close to another serious flare up, okay? And we don’t want one of those,” Jin Ling argued. “Do you remember when you couldn’t eat anything? For weeks? Because I do. It was awful. Everyone thought you were dying –”

“He’s not, is he?” Wei Wuxian asked, finding himself inside the door before he even realized he was moving. “He’s not dying?”

“Senior Wei!” Jin Ling exclaimed, surprised, and – yeah, maybe it hurt a bit that Jiang Cheng was jiujiu and he was Senior Wei instead of shishu even after all the night-hunts they’d gone on together, but Jiang Cheng wasn’t the one who’d played a part in robbing Jin Ling of his parents so he was going to just shut up and not complain about it – but that wasn’t important right now.

“He’s not dying,” Wei Wuxian insisted, his voice a little shrill. “Whatever’s wrong with him that’s bad enough that he needs surgery – why can’t he talk? What’s keeping him from talking?”

Jiang Cheng had half-risen to his feet, but Jin Ling pulled him down again with a glare of his own. “Don’t you dare move yet,” he hissed, pressing the compress into his uncle’s face even harder. He glanced back at Wei Wuxian. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him – it’s his jaw.”

“His jaw?”

“It locks up,” Jin Ling explained, and – yes. That was the missing piece, the thing he hadn’t known; that was the problem. “Really badly, to the point where he can’t move it at all. He can’t talk except through mumbling, and in the really bad times he can’t even open it enough to eat – he can only drink soup.”

That sounded awful.

“What causes it?” Wei Wuxian asked, deciding to be as bold and careless as everyone always claimed he was and to come over and help hold the compress in place.

Jiang Cheng didn’t strike him dead for it, as he’d almost expected him to.

“The muscle at the top of jaw, right under the ear, gets all swollen and fixed in place. Teeth grinding and stress aggravate it, and it aggravates them, and it’s all a horrible cycle…I’m applying cold right now, but next it’ll be heat. In really bad times, like now, we might even use acupuncture and Zidian to try to shock the muscle loose –”

That sounded painful. Wei Wuxian didn’t like to think about Jiang Cheng being in pain.

Especially not from stress.

Stress that Wei Wuxian had always aggravated, rather than eased; the stress of being a sect leader all alone, the stress of being abandoned, left behind, the stress of chasing after Wei Wuxian who held himself far away –

“Can I help?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jin Ling said, even though Jiang Cheng tried to shake his head no. “Anything you can think of we’d welcome.”

“I’ll look through all the libraries,” Wei Wuxian promised. The focus of his research – even in his new life – had tended to focus on demonic cultivation, simply because it was new and interesting, but he was a genius; if he put his mind to it, he was sure he could come up with something better to help fix Jiang Cheng’s jaw before it needed to be cut open with a knife just to let him eat something. “I’ll help.”

Jiang Cheng caught his hand and tugged, unable to speak – but his silence said Why so plaintively that Wei Wuxian’s heart lurched in his chest.

“Because you’re Jiang Cheng,” he told him, unable to explain it other than that. He couldn’t say that he wouldn’t leave him to suffer – he had – couldn’t say he wouldn’t do anything to hurt him – he had – could barely even say he put Jiang Cheng’s well-being as one of his highest priorities, even though it was. There was no reason for Jiang Cheng to believe him about any of that. “Let me help. Please.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him for a long moment.

After a while, he put down his hand and looked away, pretending the moment had never happened, and that was as good as agreement when it came to Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian smiled in relief, and started planning out his first attack on the healing arts section of the Lan sect’s library.

[authorialarcanist]

It Seems I'll Never Understand (Kagerou Project)

Genre: Angst

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Tateyama Ayano x Kisaragi Shintaro

Summary: "...Hey, Shintaro. Why'd you do it? I mean... You could have stayed out of it. It wasn't your fight."

In a world where Shintaro Kisaragi was the one who killed himself on that fateful august day two years prior, Ayano isn't sure what she can do with her life. Living in fear of the Snake of Clearing Eyes, all she can do is think back on the past, and wonder - why it was that her best friend took her place when she's sure he must have hated her, and when was it that it all went wrong.

Shinaya roleswap with a focus on making it work with as few changes to canon as possible.

---

It’s late - late enough that it’s gotten truly dark out. I’m walking along the road to my home, a boy next to me. The bridge we’re crossing seems to stretch out endlessly into the distance, illuminated only by the moon and the street-lamps we’re passing by.

I fiddle with my scarf absentmindedly as I steal a glance at his face. I’m so glad… I was finally able to become friends with him. Or, well… maybe ‘friends’ isn’t the right word just yet. To him, I’m sure I’m still just that stupid girl who made him tutor her for hours after class.

Still… I tell myself that this is the most important first step. Mm-hm. Now that I’ve introduced myself, I’m sure that we’ll be friends - real friends - in no time at all.

“You really saved my life! I never would’ve been able to finish that problem set on my own.” I grin weakly as my babbling inevitably turns to self-deprecation. Ah, well… after my terrible performance back there, trying to act cool for my new friend was a lost cause already. Well, if this was a manga, at least this might be the part where the aloof genius breaks character to reassure me that I can do it?

“Even with my help, it took you way too long…” He sighs. “Geez. I only came here to get my wallet, too. I must be really unlucky.”

—Yeah, right. I’ve only known this guy for a few hours now, but it’s pretty obvious that tender support isn’t his strong suit.

“I really am sorry…” I shrink a little under his criticism. “But! I promise, I won’t forget about today!”

“What are you saying? Didn’t you just say you forget things no matter how much you study?” Ow… I guess I did say that, but… he really has no faith in me at all, huh?

But he just doesn’t get it! Not quite panicking, I redouble my efforts to explain myself. “Today’s special! I’m going to try extra hard not to forget, so it’ll be okay!”

He hums in contemplation and stares away into the distance. And then—

—“Liar.”

I recoil from the sudden accusation. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve broken your promise already, haven’t you? You can’t even remember my name.”

He picks up his pace, and though I try to follow, I can’t seem to move forward.

“Huh? Of course I can!”

“Really? Then why haven’t you said it?”

“Why are you so focused on that all of a sudden?”

“Say it, Ayano.”

“Stop it!”

“Say my name.”

“I— You’re—“ Tears spill from my eyes. I’m trying to say it. Why — why is this happening? Why couldn’t we just keep walking together, chatting about nothing important, like friends do?

“…Yeah. I thought so.” He stops walking, and for some reason, I freeze as well. I have no choice but to watch his back as he speaks. “I guess it’s not your fault, though. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “But… Try to remember, okay?”

He turns to face me again.

His eyes are red.

“If you can’t remember soon, then—“

——

Knock. Knock. Knock. Three hesitant raps on my door.

The sound wakes me from my dream. Already, it’s growing too hazy to remember. All I can say for certain is that hewas there.

He’s always there in my dreams. Maybe it’s some cruel balance for the fact that he’ll never be there again in real life.

“Ayano?”

At the sound of the voice calling for me, I turn over in my bed and bury my face in my pillow, trying not to make any sound to indicate that I’m awake.

“Ayano, please, I know you’re in there. I just want to talk.”

I don’t respond. My father is dead. That’s the best way to think of it. The safest way to think of it. Even when the snake lets him out, it’s only in the hopes of getting me to snap.

“Ayano, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the best father to you, since your mother died. But please, I just want to know what happened. What happened to Shuuya and Tsubomi and Kousuke. Why you won’t talk to me. Ayano, please.”

My hands clench against the pillow. I force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

“Ayano…”

In.

Out.

“…Just… think about it, okay? I’m here, if you’re ever ready to talk. Even if you need another two years, I’ll still be here.”

A lie. Dad won’t be here. Just the snake.

“…I love you.”

I stay silent, waiting until the sound of footsteps fades from my hearing. No matter how many times I go through this, it never gets any easier. But… I can’t talk to him.

Even if the snake wasn’t privy to his every thought, I can’t bring myself to speak with the man who sold my world.

“…Is… he gone?” A tinny voice whispers from my computer’s speaker.

I listen for a moment. When nothing happens, I nod. “Yeah.”

My computer monitor lights up as it exits sleep mode, and a girl in blue peeks out from her hiding place behind a browser window. “…I still don’t understand why you don’t leave here, Ayano-chan…”

I shake my head. “I… I just can’t. I’m sorry, Ene.” Ene… that’s what this girl calls herself. About a year ago, she popped out of an email and decided to stick around. She tried to put on this sassy, hyper front at first, but it fell apart pretty quickly.

I’m pretty sure I know who she really is, after all. And she knows I know. I just haven’t been cruel enough to push the topic.

It’s not like she has much of anywhere else to go, after all.

“…Okay. I get it.” She looks down at the taskbar and pokes her index fingers together. “Just… hang in there, okay, Ayano-chan? Do your best.”

“Like my best has ever mattered,” I mumble, and sit down at my computer chair. To be honest, my activities since dropping out of school two years ago have been nothing, nothing, and a heaping dessert of nothing. It’s not like I have any sort of online life to speak of, even. It’s just that… ultimately, there’s nothing else to do when I’m living under the same roof as my father. I can’t risk going outside at the wrong time and having to face him. At least he respects the boundaries of my room; and the snake finds it convenient to leave me a sanctuary under his supervision for as long as he doesn’t have any need of me.

“…So, um… Ayano-chan?” Ene glances up at me, a little shyly. “Can I ask about whether…”

Ah. That. I shake my head. “…I’m sorry. I’ve tried talking to him while my father was away, but Konoha really doesn’t seem to remember anything about us.” Konoha… the white-haired boy the Clearing Eyes took in really is just another reminder of my failures. Still, I know that’s not hisfault, and I can’t really blame Ene for being too scared to check up on him herself. Talking to him hurts badly enough for me, and I still hadn’t been quite as close to Haruka as she was. Honestly though, whenever I’d felt safe enough to slip out and check on him, Konoha had seemed pretty nonresponsive. Forget remembering me and Ene; he didn’t seem to remember anything, not even basic things like rain.

“I see…” Ene droops. This happens every time she brings up Konoha; as much as she’s tried to be around for me, I don’t have the first idea how to comfort her when this topic comes up.

Well, honestly, I don’t think I’m in a place to be comforting much of anyone. Back when I tried all those years ago, it only ended in pain.

In the end, I go with the tried and true method of pretending I didn’t see anything. When there’s nothing you can do, acknowledging the problem only ends in more tears, after all. I pass the day mindlessly browsing the web and making more paper cranes for the army that chokes every available surface in my room. Occasionally, I can’t help but fantasize about what things might be like if I had Paper-Animating Eyes. Sending an army of little origami birds to get revenge on the Clearing Eyes… it’d definitely be a more efficient way of getting a wish granted.

Ah well.

At least my father has work during the day and the snake has better things to do than waste time in this lonely house during the nighttime, so I’m able to check on Konoha and grab something from the kitchen for lunch on most days. That’s particularly important, because dinner can be much more spotty, depending on whether my father is in a “bury his problems in work” mood or a “try desperately to be present to make up for selling his soul to an evil snake” one. Well, okay, I really don’t know how much he’s able to retain about what the Clearing Eyes does when in control of his body, but if he really is oblivious about everything that might actually be worse.

Unfortunately he seems to be in a “try to atone” cycle right now, so I’m running off of a single meal when the knocks return once again.

“Ayano.”

Ene hides behind the browser window again, and I click off of the tab showing a video of a mongoose taking down a snake.

…What? Look, I have to deal with the spite somehow.

“I know you’re in there.”

I stay silent.

“I’ve got another mission for you, Ayano. You know the deal by now.”

I freeze. This isn’t dad.

“I trust I don’t need to spell it out for you?”

It’s the other one.

“I’m waiting.Or is this some pathetic attempt at rebellion? If so, I have to applaud. It’s the most pointless one yet.”

I finally find my voice. “I-I understand.”

“Heh. Good.” The snake chuckles. “Two children are coming to stay in this house soon. Your father’s sister-in-law, and some hanger-on. When they’re here, you’re going to be the model of a big sister, understand? Get them to trust you, and then make sure they’re in a certain place on August fifteenth.”

I shrink in on myself. Children? Please, no…

“I said, understand?You know what’ll happen to your family if you refuse…”

“N-no!” I shoot to my feet in panic. “No… I understand…”

“Good.” What should be my father’s voice drips with malice. “See? Wasn’t that easy? Goodbye, Ayano.” Saying the last two words in an odd sing-song voice, the snake leaves. I collapse back into my chair, hugging myself.

“A-ayano-chan…” Ene peeks back out from her hiding spot.

I turn to her with wide eyes.

“Ayano-chan, you don’t have to do this. Please, we can fight back. I’ll help you.”

…If only. But no, I know it’s hopeless.

I can’t fight the snake. All I can do is delay the inevitable.

I shake my head, and start disconnecting the speakers from my computer. If Ene tried to do something brave, and the Clearing Eyes found out…

“…Ayano, please…”

I pull the plug on my monitor. Ene may still have access to the inside of my computer, but the most she’ll be able to do in the house is open and close the CD drive.

“…sorry…” I whisper quietly to myself, even though I know she can’t hear me.

God, how did things turn out this way?

——

I have many precious memories, moments I’ve spent these past two years trying desperately not to forget. Reading storybooks at bedtime with my mom. Meeting my little siblings for the first time. The way my dad’s face used to look when he’d play with us, long before everything happened.

If you were to look through those treasured days, flipping from one to another as though they were files secreted away in a lockbox, one might still stand out from the rest. Perhaps it’s laminated, or hidden behind a false back. Not because it’s more precious than the others - I wouldn’t trade my family for anything - but because it’s unique nonetheless. A moment elevated in its rarity, and in the pain it brings me - not the dull ache of my mom’s face, nor the stabbing betrayal of my father’s failures and mine, but a gaping void of ‘what if’s.

The first time I ever got to see Shintaro smile.

It was during our second year of middle school, a couple months after the day I finally introduced myself. The last test I’d gotten back had been my lowest score yet, and with exams rushing to meet me, I was honestly in a panic.

But then, Shintaro’d spoken up. For the very first time, he gave me a totally unprompted offer to help me study.

“Thank you so much,” I’d sobbed. “I don’t know what I was gonna do…”

“Ugh, don’t be annoying about it!” He’d refused to meet my eyes as he grumbled. “I just know that if you failed your exams I’d somehow get dragged into helping you catch back up. It’s just easier to get this over with this early, alright?”

Whatever his stated reasons, I still felt like I’d been saved when he stuck around to help me pound the latest lessons into my skull. And I don’t know if we finished faster than usual, if something good had happened to him at home, or if his guard was just down that day for some other reason, but one way or another, he decided to stick around and chat for a bit afterwards.

I can still picture it clearly. That sunny classroom, me perched on my desk to bask in the light from the window, him leaning his chair back as we killed time… and the glint of light that drew my eye to the spine of a book just peeking out of his bag.

“Hm? Hey, Shintaro?”

“What?” He glanced lazily back at me.

I tilted my head to read what I could from the spine. It rung a bell; I’d overheard some of the other girls in our class talking about it from time to time. “Isn’t that ‘Let’s Fall In Love’?”

“HUH?” I winced at the sudden crash as Shintaro lost his balance and fell in a heap.

“Ah! Are you okay? I’m sorry!” I rushed to help him up, but he just scrambled back until he was pressed against the wall.

“W-w-w-what are you talking about? I-I don’t, I mean, that’s not—“ Shintaro grabbed suddenly for his bag, but his hand missed its mark and sent the contents spilling out as it toppled over instead. The book landed face up, its cover proudly displaying a drawing of a boy and a girl standing together in a very shoujo-esque artstyle. Emblazoned above the picture was ‘Let’s Fall in Love ~ by Yumeno Sakiko.’

“Umm…”

“I mean! It’s Momo’s! Yeah! My little sister wouldn’t stop pestering me, so I picked up her copy for her, uh-huh! I definitely don’t read shoujo manga!” His stuttering picked up pace as he scrambled for excuses, and I couldn’t help it - some part of me kinda wanted to watch him squirm for a little longer.

So, I grinned slyly and searched my memory of my classmates’ conversations. “Uh-huh? You know, with how Mamiko and Oze were talking in the latest chapter, don’t you think there might be a chance they’ll—“

“THAT’S HERESY!” Shintaro slammed his hands down on the ground, and I winced at the sudden spike in volume. “Mamiko and Suzuki are meantto be together!” He clenched his fist and held it to his chest. “I can’t imagine how anyone would think otherwise after that moment in volume 7! And anyways, Oze and Waka may be having a fight right now, but everyone… knows…” He trailed off as my control failed me and I started to giggle. “…Fine. You caught me. Happy now?”

At the sight of him forcing down a pout and struggling to regain a serious expression, I laughed even harder.

“…So I like shoujo manga. Is it really that funny to you?”

“No, no! I’m sorry!” I did my best to get myself under control. “It’s not that, honestly. You just looked so earnest, and then you kept trying to hide it… If reading that sort of thing makes you happy, then I think that’s a goodthing! It’s actually kinda c—“ I suddenly realized what I was about to say, and blushed heavily. “—I mean, it’s kinda cool! Yeah! You shouldn’t worry what other people will think about your interests, you know?” Oh yeah, that was an absolutely stellarsave, Ayano. Absolutely nobody was gonna suspect that you almost called your classmate ‘cute’ without thinking. Aside from, I dunno, people with eyes.

Thankfully, all of that intelligence must have come out of Shintaro’s perceptiveness instead, because he let it pass without comment. “So…” Shintaro seemed to be looking anywhere in the room other than my face, which might have helped the whole ‘not noticing my face doing a bonfire impression’ thing. “Do… you also read it, then?”

“Huh?”

“Y, you know! ‘Let’s Fall in Love’!”

“A, ah! Right!” I snapped out of my thoughts. Right, let’s just pretend that slip never happened for now, and I can unpack whatever the heck it meant on my own time, when I won’t make my one school friend think I’m even more of a weirdo than he already does. “Ehehe… Not really, actually.” I scratched the back of my head and grinned sheepishly. “I was just parroting something I overheard. I’m more into the shounen stuff, you know? Hot-blooded super sentai fighting to save the world, and all that.”

“Really? But they’re so formulaic. You can see everything coming from a mile away. And how do those guys get through posing dressed like that and not die of embarrassment?”

Well, I couldn’t just sit there and take that. “What? Hold on a moment, like your mushy stuff is any better! Aren’t they all just ‘boy meets girl, cue nothing happening for the rest of their school lives’?”

“Wh— they are not!There’s nuanceand relationship growth and everything!” Woah. Shintaro was looking about the most fired up I’d ever seen him! At that thought, an idea clicked in my head.

“Hmm… Alright, then!” I grinned at him and gave a sharply enunciated chuckle, heh-heh-heh. “Why don’t you tell me more about this series, and if you manage to change my mind I’ll give reading it a try? And then, in return, you’ll watch an episode of Engine Sentai Go-Onger with me, and we’ll see how you feel about heroes after that!”

Shintaro rose to the challenge. “Fine! Come on then, I’ll teach you about why Yumeno-sensei is a master! I mean, her portrayal of Mamiko’s inner struggles alone touches the heart, even for a boy like me! There’s this moment in chapter 12 when she…” He lit up as he talked, gesturing wildly with the plot points. I’m a little ashamed to say that I actually stopped paying attention after a few moments, because my focus suddenly seemed drawn to his face. He was grinning - actually grinning, the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in, well, ever- as he opened up about his interest.

I can only remember thinking two things as we walked home that day.

The first was, ‘What a pretty smile.’

The second was, ‘…oh. Crap.’

…So, yeah. It looked like I maybe had a teeny little crush. That was okay! It was fine! It meant I was finally starting to grow up, right? Anyways, whatever Shintaro’s romance manga said, I was pretty sure that people were supposed to get a lot of those with time. They didn’t have to mean anything, or, y’know, gamble their only real non-family friendships on the chance that someone who was really smart and cute would still want to hang out with a dumb girl they barely tolerated helping out if she asked.

Not a problem! I’d just go about my life as normal, and it’d fade in time. Eventually, I’d probably look back on this day and laugh.

…And if in the meantime, I wanted to see him smiling like that again? Well, that could be my little secret.

——

Of course, let nobody accuse me of being a good planner. Obviously, the darn thing only seemed to get stronger with time. Wanting to see Shintaro smile because I wanted him to be happy slowly morphed into wanting to be the reasonhe was smiling like that. Hoping that maybe, if I could be the one to make this lonely boy smile, that’d mean I was actually worth somethingreally the hero I pretended to be.

Mom died, and I had to be the strength for the whole family as dad seemed like half his world had gone missing, but no matter how much I needed comfort of my own, I wasn’t ready to tell him.

We met Takane and Haruka, and one friend turned into three, but even though I’d only be gambling 33% instead of 100, I was still too scared to tell him.

And then I found out that dad had changed, what the thing in his body had planned for Haruka and Takane and my siblings, and suddenly my stupid little feelings didn’t seem so important. I had to research the read eyes, and I needed Shuuya to cover for me, and in the end I didn’t have the attention to spare for my friend my crush my…

…for Shintaro. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice our growing distant. Why I didn’t notice things growing strained.

Why I didn’t notice that I really was just burdening him with my own expectations.

Didn’t notice until a hill at sunset, a hand snatched away, his back receding into the distance while I stood alone.

After that, I wondered about a lot of things. How much had been genuine, and how much really had just been putting up with me. How much of my motives had been pure, and how much had been that dark little thrill of seeing him down and feeling like I was still needed.

How cruel it must have been, to plan what I was planning and still try to hold onto his hand until the last minute.

So I didn’t try again. I delegated as much school time as I could to Shuuya (and carefully didn’t wonder why his face was growing more stressed, why his own time seemed to draw thin.) I withdrew further, and dedicated everything I had to my lonely mission. August fifteenth came all too soon at last, and I shoved my responsibilities onto Takane, told her to be honest with her feelings even as I swore that my own were better ignored. I wrapped my scarf around my neck, the colour of a hero, I steeled myself and turned to mount the stairs, and I was interrupted.

“Shuuya? What are you doing?” My little brother had arrived in front of me, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath.

“N, neechan, please!” Panting, Shuuya raised his eyes to meet mine. They glistened with tears. “You have to— you have to stop Shintaro-kun! He’s about to do something really stupid!”

“Huh?” I was taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s already gone to the roof! I couldn’t do anything! Neechan, please!”

“The roof?” I still didn’t understand, but I burst into a run anyways, leaving my brother behind. Why was Shintaro even here today, when he didn’t need summer school? Why did Shuuya know about it? What could he be doing on the roof, other than…?

He wasn’t involved. God, please, he wasn’t involved, why was he here?

I took the steps two at a time, ignoring the pain shooting through my lungs, and had no choice but to stop for breath and lean against the wall for a moment when I finally reached the door leading outside.

My father’s voice filtered in from outside. No - not my father. The thingwearing his skin. “Honestly, kid.” He sounded mildly exasperated, like my dad did whenever a student had turned in a particularly baffling answer on a quiz. “You think that you’re gonna be the big damn hero? You really think there’s a single thing you can do here to beat me?”

“No.” Shintaro, this time. “Honestly, it’s a stupid plan. Totally useless in every way. But hey.” A dark chuckle. “Objectively speaking, the life of a rotten boy like me is just worthless enough to make it worth trying.”

I’d finally caught my breath, but at that it caught in my throat. Did he mean—

I burst through the door, screaming, “Shintaro, NO!” The roof was empty except for two people. My father, standing on solid ground looking mildly vexed. And Shintaro, clad in that red jersey I’d said I liked, the color of a hero, sitting perched half-on the fence around the edge of the roof and half dangling over open air.

His eyes met mine, and no matter how hard I try I know I’ll never forget the way his face clouded over, the way his eyes darkened, or the words he said to me at that moment.

“…Oh.

“Ayano.

“The very last person I wanted to see.”

His final curse delivered, he leaned back. The world distorted around him, horrible discordant red tearing open fangs in the sky.

And he fell.

I must have screamed, but it’s a blur. I just know that by the time I came to, I’d fallen on my knees, and the thing that took my father was laughing.

Laughing.

“Ha! You kids never fail to surprise me, you know that? I never once would have expected that depressing little thing to get up off his ass and do something like this!” He paused. “Well okay, I guess I would, but the part where he tried to stand up to me was still new.”

Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d jumped to my feet and was tackling him. “SHUT UP!”

“Whoops!” Somehow, my father’s body stepped out of the way before I could react. I found myself impacting concrete and rolling on the roof, scrapes all over my body where I’d fallen. “Come on, brat. You’re a big girl now, you should be used to hearing swear words by now. Or wait, are you angry about the boy?”

With a wordless scream, I threw myself at him again, but this time he casually stuck out a leg and tripped me.

“You might still have time to save him, you know. Throw yourself off the roof after him, and maybe you could convince him to come on out and bring me that snake he stole.” He sneered. “Of course, it’d mean making this whole little sacrifice play all for nothing. And this guy” he tapped the side of my father’s head, “might even willingly help me kill the brat if you did! Oh, now thatdespair would be delicious to see.”

I swallowed the pain as my fists clenched, scraped raw though they were. “…Shut up. You… you’re just trying to convince me because you know your plan’s finished. You can’t gather the snakes now. There’s no… no more reason to kill Takane and Haruka, or the others.”

*snrk.* The monster covered his mouth with a hand.

“What’s supposed to be so funny?”

“Ha! Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just… you think this kid managed to save your friends? Please.” He rolled his eyes. “He was too late. They’re already dead.” He shrugged and continued in a sing-song voice. “And anyways, the boy was a goner already. You should be thankingme; this way, at least he has a chanceof living for another year or two.”

“W…what…?” I slumped, the fight draining from my veins. No. It couldn’t be. Takane and Haruka… they were gone, too?

My “father” walked up to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. To anyone watching, it might have just looked like a father comforting his daughter; but I could feel his fingers dig into my flesh in a vice grip. “Still, working this all back out from the top is going to be a pain. And that’s not even counting all of the cleanup I have to do! It’s one thing for those other two kids; I’d made preparations for them. But spinning the sudden disappearance of this brat, too? No, that’s far too much work.” He crouched down until he was level with me, a too-wide smile on his face. A shiver ran down my spine. “So, Ayano.I’m going to have you do me a little favor, alright? And before you consider trying to do something brave, consider just who it is that has your family’s life in his hands, hmm? Don’t say anything; just nod.” I nodded, stricken. Everything I’d planned had come to nothing in a few short minutes. “You’re going to find Shuuya for me, and you’re going to have him go make himself look like this guy -“ he waved vaguely at the empty edge of the roof - “’s body for me. A suicide should be easy enough to explain away. Especially when the victim was as gloomy-looking as this asshole here. Honestly, people’re gonna think it was a miracle he lasted as long as he did.” My fists clenched again at relentless slander, but there was nothing I could do. I was totally and utterly defeated. “You got it, Ayano? Do this, and I’ll let the people you care about live a little longer.” He chuckled. “…Well, what’s left of them, at least. Hahahaha!”

How could I have ever thought I could be a hero? All I’d managed to do was arrive too late to save either of the snake’s intended victims, and drag a bystander to his death in the process.

In the end, tears streaming down my face, all I could do was nod.

——

“Neechan!” Shuuya rushed up to me the minute I exited the school. He grabbed my hands - I didn’t resist - and gasped at the scrapes all over them. “What happened to you? Where’s Shintaro-kun?”

“Shintaro— He’s—“ My voice caught.

“Nee…chan…?” I could see the exact moment Shuuya caught on. His eyes widened and his face fell, all in one motion. “Dammit! And just when the guy starts to convince me he’s not all bad, he has to go and do something like this…” His hands tightened involuntarily around mine, but I couldn’t even find the energy to wince.

I spoke in a flat voice, forcing myself to put one word in front of the next. “Shuuya. There’s something very important I need you to do.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“You need to use your power to turn into Shintaro. Let somebody discover ‘his’ body, so there’ll be a record. If you don’t, then… then he’ll…” My voice caught again, but I forced myself to continue before Shuuya could ask any questions. “And then there’s one more thing you need to do. I need you to take Tsubomi and Kousuke, and go away. Go somewhere far away from here, and don’t— don’t tell me anything about where you’re going. You can’t contact me at all, okay? I can’t have any way to find out more about you.”

“W—what?”

“It’s the only way that you’re going to be safe. I… we can’t stop the Clearing Eyes. He can have you all killed in a moment.”

Shuuya must have been able to see the seriousness in my eyes, because he didn’t try to debate the point. “Okay, but… Why can’t you come with us? We can all run, that’ll be safer!”

I just shook my head. “…No. He… he’ll find me, somehow. He knew how to respond to everything that I tried. Anything I do… no matter what, I’m sure he’ll…” I hugged myself and started slowly walking towards the path home. It was clear to me now. I was nothing more than a puppet dancing on the Clearing Eyes’ strings.

“W-wait, Neechan! Come back!”

“Goodbye, Shuuya. Please don’t forget to do what I told you. Consider it… My final request as your sister.”

“NEECHAN!”

——

“…Hey, Shintaro. Why’d you do it?”

I lie on my back, staring at the empty ceiling as I talk to the air.

“I mean… You could have stayed out of it. It wasn’t your fight.”

The cranes crowding every surface above me seem to swirl and distort, like a heat haze.

My head keeps playing his final moments on repeat. Even as the happy days grow dimmer and dimmer, I can’t seem to forget his last words no matter how hard I try.

‘The very last person I wanted to see.’

“If… if you hated me so much, why didn’t you just let me be the one to jump? Why take my place?”

I wonder… if I’d been the one to jump that day, would he have been able to do what I couldn’t? I indulge in a brief fantasy of Shintaro, red jacket flapping behind him, standing tall with my siblings as they face down the Clearing Eyes together.

…Somehow, I just can’t see it. Sorry, Shintaro.

‘The life of a rotten boy like me is worthless’

“…Did you hate yourselfthat much? Were you so sick of life that you grabbed the first excuse you could find?”

…Maybe. But… somehow, as much as he tried to shut the world out, I can’t help but see Shintaro as someone who was brimming with life underneath it all. At the very least, whenever he talked about his sister, he didn’t seem like he’d want to leave her.

The thought of Momo-chan makes me wince. Another memory, this time of her crying and screaming at me when I’d tried to comfort her.

When I’d broken down and sobbed that it was all my fault.

I can’t blame her for hating me. To be honest, I wonder if it wasn’t what I was secretly hoping for.

Just another case where Ayano’s self-satisfaction came before actually doing her job.

My alarm clock rings. I’d set it instead of my phone, to make sure Ene couldn’t try and be a hero. (I can’t help but hope that she’s given up on me, and found her way to somebody who’ll be a better friend.) It means that the children…

…my victims…

…should be arriving soon.

I push myself to my feet. In the end, even blaming myself is just pointless self-satisfaction. I’ve made the choice to play this role; I made the decision that these two children were worth less than the family I know and care about.

It doesn’t take too long to get myself presentable. I choose an outfit that looks like its owner hasn’t been in hiding for the last two years, and glance at my scarf, hanging wrinkled and dusty on a hook.

My hands shake.

And I turn away without touching it. I don’t deserve to wear that color.

Not when red is the color of blood.

“Sorry, Shintaro. Guess you made the wrong trade, in the end. Even a genius like you makes mistakes, huh?”

With that snide remark, I turn my back on his sacrifice and walk out into the house.

…Still, a thought flits across my mind.

—Ah, I would have liked to see that smile, just one more time.

The doorbell rings. It’s time.

I hide my feelings behind a smile, painting it from ear to ear.

And I open the front door.

[bluegarners]

“someone slips on ice and gets hurt... hurt/comfort pls!” ~anon

For 12 Days of Batfam prompts! 

Gotham is cold.

He doesn’t mean that metaphorically, like Batman would normally brood over. Sure, Gotham was pretty heartless when it came to certain things, and yeah, Bludhaven wasn’t any better, and sure, Gotham sometimes felt like one endless cycle of insanity day after day, but he’s getting away from the point.

He’s talking about the frigid kind of cold. Not the kind of cold where snow falls lightly from the sky and dusts the world in white. Not the kind of cold where it’s just chilly enough to put on a jacket and some gloves and start a fire (a contained and safe fire, mind you- arson is not part of that description) and maybe sip some hot chocolate and roast a couple marshmallows for the heck of it. 

That’s the kind of crisp weather Dick would like, but as he said: Gotham is cold.

Which brings him to where he is now, jogging in place and trying his best to stay warm on what may be the most boring stake-out he’s done in months. His suit isn’t built to be warm. It’s not bulky and though it has kevlar in it, the material is meant to help stop bullets and deter knives from gracing themselves into his, unfortunately, vulnerable organs. Point being, the skin tight and relatively thin suit he’s wearing isn’t built for Gotham’s icy chill. 

His fingers had gone numb a while ago, and Dick’s absolutely sure he’s sporting a new shade of blue lipstick from Fenty Beauty, and were someone to see him, Dick’s also certain they might mistake him for Rudolph. He wouldn’t mind being recognized as such an icon, but it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing to intimidate criminals with.

Efforts at staying warm prove futile, and the exercise he tries to do without being obvious also does little to put back some feeling into his toes. He’s thinking about calling it a night, the drug deal he’d been hoping to catch the last few weeks a bust, when a classically suspicious white van pulls up. It’s laughable, in a way, how stereotypical some of Gotham’s “lesser” villains could be, but Dick’s not one to complain.

Makes his job easier after all.

Two men exit the van, shuffling through some contents in the back. They’re both wearing ski masks, somewhat appropriate for the weather actually, and seem to be in a hurry. Hushed whispers go between the two as they wait stoically by the front doors of the van, what looks to be a small ziploc back clutched in one of the goons hands. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s a drug deal, or at least something related to it, and Dick feels a smile creep onto his frozen face as another person slowly walks up to them, shifty and anxious.

A newbie then, Dick thinks, crouching down and carefully making his way closer to them from his vantage point. Must be a kid then.

Based on the height and general demeanor of the newcomer, it’s safe to assume that the buyer is indeed a teenager, at most a young adult. Perhaps not even old enough to buy alcohol. How they heard about the new drug, and where to get it, was a bit surprising, but seeing as the deal was happening in the poorer districts, Dick was sadly not perturbed. 

There are few quick words exchanged, an envelope of cash being handed over for the ziploc baggie, and Dick knows it’s time to finally take action. A good thing too, seeing as it feels like the soles of his boots had become suspended to the frozen concrete.

His entrance startles both parties, the men in ski masks immediately reaching for weapons and the teenager backing away, stumbling over himself in an effort to run. Perhaps if they were more experienced, or at the very least a second more prepared, they would have been able to put up some sort of defense. As it were, though, Dick had been stalking this particular drug for weeks. He knew where most of the suppliers were, knew what areas they liked to sell in, knew their demographics and the supply chain, and also knew who and what the dealers consisted of. 

This “new” drug was really just a potent mixture of PCP and bath salts. A dangerous combination, but not valuable enough to have competent dealers and proper weapons for protection. 

Which is why the take down of both men lasts all of about seven seconds, Dick easily knocking them out before they could reach for any weapons they happened to have in that van of theirs. He’ll give them props for trying though- it’s not everyday Nightwing, of all people, decides to ruin your one job.

With the dealers out of the way, Dick turns back around to see the teen, baggie in tow and still clutched tightly in his fist, booking it across the street. It’s dark enough to the point where the boy just looks like a flighty shadow in the night, but the flickering lamp-posts give just enough light to show exactly where he was heading. The confidence in his gait suggested that he knew where he wanted to go, and if Dick had to make a hypothesis, he’d say the kid was heading home. 

The only place in the world that could feel safe after something like this.

Dick feels a frown pull on his face, the skin tight from being exposed to the bitter air, and not for the first time, feels a smidgen of sympathy for the situation. He brushes it off though, shelving that particular thought of his to the back of his mind, and grapples onto the building over, pulling himself over the ledge. 

He follows the kid from the rooftops, leaping over gaps and darting across fire-escapes to keep up with the twists and turns the teen took. If he knew he was being tailed, then the kid was doing a pretty good job at evading, but he was no match for someone who had trained for years doing this exact thing. Dick may live in Bludhaven now, but Gotham would always be his first home. He knew this city almost as well as Bruce, and the only reason he didn’t know just as much was because he hadn’t given his soul away to it just yet. Bruce had shaken hands with the city and signed away his being when he donned the cowl. 

Dick was attempting to do the same with Bludhaven.

The kid bolts into an alleyway, coat flying behind him in his mad dash, and Dick thinks now is the time to stop the chase. He descends from the rooftop, landing in front of the breathless teen, and holds out a hand firmly. It’s a little funny, the scene he makes. Not only does he look like Rudolph, but with the pose he’s made for himself, he might as well be a crosswalk guard with his hand up to halt speeding cars.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he says, not unkindly. “Let’s do this the easy way, kid.”

The teen takes a step back, the drugs held tightly against his chest. “You’re… you’re Nightwing.”

“The one and only,” Dick smiles, taking a step forward. 

“But-but this is Batman’s city. Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Honestly, kid, that’s not your biggest concern right now. If I were you, I would be worrying about how to explain those drugs you’ve got there.”

As if realizing the contents of the baggie for the first time, the teens eyes dart to it, panic setting in as the situation’s gravity, and what it could mean for him, overwhelms him.

“Th-These aren’t mine,” the kid tries. “I-I swear I wasn’t gonna use them.”

“Uh huh,” Dick says, taking another step closer. “Why don’t you try again, uh, what’s your name?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Okay,” Dick shrugs, easing his way nearer. “That’s fine, I’ll just call you Buddy. Now, Buddy, there are two ways this can go. One, you give me that bag and you’ll only be reported for minor drug possession. Gotham has a fine ranging from 30 to 50 dollars for that sort of crime, so it won’t be too bad. The second option is, well, I don’t think you want the second option. So, what’s it going-”

Now, Dick could blame about ten different things for what happened next. He could blame his mouth, as he gets too chatty with the younger ones sometimes. He could blame the poor lighting, seeing even more difficult at this time of night. He could even blame the wind for being too loud, lest he would’ve heard the quick intake of breath and shuffling feet. 

Dick could blame many different things, but as it were, Nightwing was being pushed, hard, and he hadn’t seen it coming. 

The unexpected shove throws him off balance, arms waving in the air for some sort of hold, and Nightwing probably would’ve been able to stop the fall on any other night, but, as he keeps being sorely reminded, Gotham is cold tonight.

Gotham’s cold was unforgiving and instead of snow, it produced ice. And, lucky him, a patch of black ice presented itself right where his unfortunate footing was trying to find some stabilization. His feet fly right out from under him, all four appendages now in the air and flailing comically.

Dick has the awareness to at least look where he’s falling, craning his neck just so, and he internally groans as the sight of an open garbage can meets him. For whatever reason, Gotham liked using metal cans, of all things, and this one did not have a lid on it. 

Fantastic.

He can’t catch himself, his arms out of his control (Dick also blames the cold for the numbness in his hands and, hence, lack of grip), and it’s all he can do but brace for impact. Oh, he’s so going to-

The side of his head slams into the rim of the metal bin, and the world goes white. He crumples against the frozen ground, boneless and suddenly without vision. Something warm, or decidedly extremely cold, slides down his neck and Dick can barely keep his eyes open. There’s no pain, at least not yet his muddled head reminds him, but he can’t seem to move or do anything for that matter. Sensations fail him and the lack of any visuals besides the blaring white and static in his eyes scares him. His tongue feels fuzzy, and there’s something smooth and metallic dribbling past his lips, but his biggest concern right now is getting up.

Laying here, injured, was a big no no. Vulnerability was a dangerous thing. If he could just… If he could just move his arm, he might be able to do something. Call for backup maybe. There’s a drug bust that’s going to go down soon and he’s been tracking these guys for weeks now and it would be a shame if they were to get away. Those drugs were dangerous after all, and in the wrong hands could get someone killed. It could get kids killed. It could get his… his buddy killed. Did he have a buddy? Buddy?

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Dick hears the distorted voice from above, the sound crackly and pitchy. 

“Oh, god, I-I swear- oh my god. I didn’t mean to do that, I swear, I swear. Oh my god, what do I do. What do I- oh my god, I killed him. I killed him.”

If he could, Dick would roll over and try to console the obviously panicking person. He can’t exactly make out everything they were saying, but it sounded bad. What happened? Were they hurt?

A hand is jostling his shoulder now. 

“Sir, Nightwing, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please wake up, I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Wake up, wake up please. I’m sorry, oh my god, I didn’t-”

Another sound pings in his ear, like the toll of a tiny bell, but Dick doesn’t have the presence of mind to really register it. It’s the last thing he hears before the static overpowers him and the white disappears.

.

.

.

Tim hates being sick. He hates being benched even more, but he’s only benched because he’s sick. So maybe he actually hates being sick more than being benched. He’s not sure.

The head cold he’s been nursing, begrudgingly, the past few days has been steadily getting better. He woke up this morning without feeling like his head was being squeezed into a compressor, so it was progress. Alfred still won’t let him drink anything but water, something about hydration being key, but as he sips some hot chocolate from his favorite mug, Tim thinks that what Alfred doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

He’s on monitor duty currently, a task assigned to anyone who wasn’t out on patrol. Barbara was on a break tonight, taking the time off to sleep and try to catch up on other things, so it was left to Tim to handle the comms. It’s boring, horribly so, but it’s the only thing he’s allowed to do without being wrestled to his bed to rest.

He begins pinging everyone for their hourly check-in, a new protocol Bruce decided to implement after “the incident” (Tim still believes that the check-ins are unnecessary- it only happened one time! One time!), and waits for their response. He gets a few pings back, Spoiler being the only one to actually say hi, and waits for Nightwing to answer. 

A minute go by and Tim pings Nightwing again. Most likely, Dick was distracted. He’d said he was on a stake-out tonight, hopeful to catch some dealers in the act. Maybe he finally did. Maybe he didn’t. Tim doesn’t really care; the warm drink in his hands was making him sleepy.

Another minute passes, and Tim lethargically pings again. Concern is slowly seeping into his stuffy brain, but he’s deciding to give Dick a little more time to answer. Dick was a chatter-box sometimes, and though he doesn’t have a headache right now, Tim’s not eager to gain one.

“This is Red Robin, requesting a check in,” he says into the comms, frowning a bit when there’s still no answer. “Nightwing, report.”

He’s technically not supposed to do this, privacy being a very important part of all their lives, but the silence was making him nervous. With just the slightest bit of hesitance, Tim opens the communication line so he can listen to what, exactly, Dick is doing. The comms are two way, and with Tim having access to the main port, he can time into anyone's’ comm and hear the situation. Typically it’s yelling or curses on the other end, the normal reason for not answering the ping being a fight or some unavoidable situation.

What Tim isn’t prepared for, however, is the labored breathing that sounds horribly wet and pained. Like someone was breathing through a straw and drowning at the same time. Okay, not a great analogy, but he’s caught off guard and suddenly very aware of the fact that Nightwing is injured and, probably, incapacitated. 

There’s someone in the background as well, their voice not quite decipherable but panicked all the same. It’s definitely not a voice Tim recognizes and that amps up his anxiety a bit more. 

Quickly tuning to the shared channel, Tim urgently says, “Nightwing’s down. I’m sending out his location. Whoever is closest needs to get there ASAP. Someone’s with him as well, but I don’t know who it is. They might’ve been the one to attack him.”

“Robin and I are close. ETA two minutes,” Batman grunts, the slight pitch change an indication of his worry. “Is Nightwing’s comm broken?”

“No,” Tim sighs, unable to do anything more but listen to it all unfold. “He didn’t report in for the hourly. For whatever reason, he can’t respond. He’s injured, but I don’t know to what extent. He might be unconscious.”

“How long has he been down?” Robin demands.

“I don’t know,” Tim responds, growing frustrated. “He didn’t say anything earlier or call for backup.”

“Have Agent A prepare things,” Batman orders. “Treatment for hypothermia may be needed. Batman out.”

“Robin out.”

The moment of silence after is haunting, but the feeble breaths that come through a second later make Tim’s stomach churn. It fills the Cave, echoing and reverberating sounds of sickness and hurt.

He can’t turn it off though. He has to make sure Dick is okay. That he’s still breathing because although it’s grating and gut-wrenching to listen to, it’s a sign of life.

Tim hates being benched.

.

.

.

The one hundred and twenty three seconds it takes to get to Richard’s location is tense. It’s a blinking blue dot on the radar, flickering in and out as they draw nearer and nearer to the dank alleyway Nightwing was laying in. 

Batman and Robin had opted to patrol with the Batmobile that night, the bite of Gotham’s frost a needless pain to endure. Damian hadn’t made a comment about Richard’s foolish idea to do a stake-out in below freezing temperatures, it wasn’t his place to ridicule the man he looked up to on something so trivial, but Damian thinks he’s regretting that decision a bit. 

Richard listened to him. Not all the time, and frequently the older man possessed more knowledge on what was to happen, but he did consider Damian’s advice and for that, he was grateful. Now, Damian wished he had just slapped the man to get him to see straight. Clearly, the plan had been inane from the beginning, and now Nightwing needed to be rescued and assisted. 

An imbecilic situation.

They reach the entrance, or perhaps exit, of the alleyway, the path too dark to see clearly through. As soon as he opens the door, Damian hears the sounds of flighty footsteps and immediately plunges into the dim. He can see the figure now, a gangly and awkward excuse of a man running to the other end of the alley. Damian can sense Batman behind him in his pursuit, the comfort of backup strange. 

If this man, who they were chasing, was strong enough to incapacitate Nightwing, one of the best fighters in the world, then they may have a problem on their hands. 

Damian stops short though, almost falling onto his face as the gleam of ice appears in his peripherals. It catches the light of a dull and yellowing streetlamp, but it’s just enough to reflect onto the ice and reveal yet another figure, slumped over and unmoving.

Careful of the ice, Damian approaches cautiously, peering closely at the lump of mass laid against the brick wall. Batman keeps in pursuit, and soon, his cape disappears from the alley, determined to catch the fleeing perpetrator. Robin is alone now.

Taking out a flashlight from his belt, Damian directs its beam to the form and nearly gasps.

It’s Nightwing. Richard.

Immediately rushing closer, Damian is startled to see the sheer volume of blood weeping down the older man’s face, a stream of red that flows down his jaw and soaks the hemline of his suit. Taking in the situation, Damian sees the knocked over trash bin, a corner of the top suspiciously rust colored. Additionally, the ice patch that’s near the base of Richard’s feet, and the position he currently lays in, would suggest that Richard had fallen or been pushed over, slipping due to the ice. 

The amount of blood still flowing out of Nightwing is concerning, but if it was from a head wound, then it wouldn’t be surprising. As Richard liked to say, head trauma was the most dramatic trauma. 

The older man is unconscious, lips blue and face much paler than would be healthy. He doesn’t respond to Damian’s attempts at waking him up, including shining the flashlight directly into his eyes after peeling away his mask. However, in doing so, Damian also learns that Richard may be suffering from a concussion or worse, as his pupils barely contract when he passes the light back and forth.

“I have the suspect,” Batman says into the comms. “A teenager named Ben Purole. He claims he pushed Nightwing, resulting in him hitting his head on a garbage bin.”

Damian nods to himself, satisfied with the confirmation. “That is likely,” he responds, applying pressure to the now located head wound. “Nightwing is suffering from head trauma, perhaps a concussion, but appears to have no other wounds. He is bleeding and unconscious though. It would be wise to get him treated quickly.”

There’s a grunt on the other end to signal affirmation and less than twenty seconds later, Batman appears, carefully taking Nightwing into his arms and walking towards the Batmobile still parked at the entrance of the alley. Without prompting, Damian opens the side door, crawling in after Richard had been set to lay down.

The movement and sudden change in temperature seems to rouse him, a groan escaping his lips. Before Damian has properly fastened his seatbelt, the Batmobile is off, gliding easily across the icy roads. Father doesn’t like to drive fast during this kind of weather, though he knows the tires of the vehicle are built to grip onto slick surfaces, but there is a sense of urgency in the way he weaves between cars and runs lights.

“Wh’ happn?” Richard slurs from where his head rests in Damian’s lap.

“You were being brainless,” Damian responds, sniffing slightly, “and slipped gracelessly into a trash bin.”

“Skate?”

“No, you did not skate. What you did could hardly even be called falling. It was tasteless.”

“M’ head hurts.”

“Like I said,” Damian whispers, annoyance fading, “You fell. I believe your head collided with the edge of a metal bin.”

“Bleedin’?”

“Yes.”

“Con..concuss...con…”

“Yes, it is likely you have a concussion. You will be scanned when we arrive at the Cave to be sure.”

A moment of silence passes, nothing but the growl of the Batmobile’s engine to shake it.

“Richard?”

“Mmfph?”

“Are you… Are you alright?”

Two seconds.

“M’ cold.”

“Oh,” Damian says, slightly embarrassed. That was obvious, really. Why had he not provided a blanket yet? Or any sort of jacket or heat pad? Perhaps it was not just Richard being brainless tonight.

Gingerly, Damian shifts about, searching for anything that might provide warmth for the duration of the drive. He finds nothing though, the majority of their winter equipment most likely in the trunk. Richard’s lips are still blue and his shoulders shake in what might be shivers. His skin is cold to the touch, eyes squeezed shut and pained, and Damian cringes at the drying blood beginning to crack around his cheeks.

Now, Damian could provide multiple excuses for his next course of action. Not excuses, no, not that. He’d come to the reasonable conclusion that Richard was cold and may have hypothermia. There was also the conclusion that Richard most likely needed comfort, as he was still greatly disoriented and concussed. Damian’s actions were for the sole purpose of providing means of ensuring Richard’s safety as well, as even though Father was a good driver, one could never be too cautious, especially on such icy roads.

So, yes. Damian draping himself over Richard’s body in an awkward hug was purely for safety reasons. He intended to provide warmth with his own body heat and it was purely for Richard’s comfort. Nothing else. It was to help Richard. Damian did not need anything nor did he seek comfort. 

The hug was for survival reasons. Yes, survival. Exactly that.

Damian will never admit to the small smile that crept up his face when Richard hummed, a small and frozen grin of his own spreading.

The rest of the drive was spent in easy silence and when they arrived at the Cave, Tim and Alfred were waiting for them. By then, Dick had become slightly more coherent. Not exactly lucid, he still slurred his words just the slightest bit, but it was safe to conclude he was in no real danger.

Of course, as soon as he was cleared, Bruce took one last glance at Dick before heading back out again. Damian stayed in the Manor, watching his brother sleep on the cot they kept out for occasions like this. Dick had been given three blankets and a hot pack to hold onto. Hypothermia hadn’t set in, but the bright pink of his fingers and toes were a sign of future trouble if they didn’t immediately correct it.

Hours later, some time in the early morning when the sun had just barely begun to rise, did Bruce return. Alfred had sent both Tim and Damian back up to the Manor, a reprimand of something along the lines of, “Heaven forbid you two be the ones to catch a cold rather than Master Richard tonight,” shaming them enough to carry themselves to their respective rooms and settle in.

Taking off his cowl, Bruce’s eyes instantly travel to his eldest, still swamped with absurdly fluffy blankets and a ridiculous amount of pillows. He’s by his side in seconds, gazing at the color that had returned to Dick’s cheeks. Running a hand carefully through his son’s hair, Bruce frowns as he feels the familiar bumps of fresh stitches, his mouth pulling down further when he sees Dick’s brow twitch in irritation.

He keeps his hand there for a moment longer though, closing his eyes in what might be thankfulness. He’d left to check the garbage bin Dick had slammed into, scanning it for signs of rust or other ill-effects of time. Bruce had felt a surge of relief when he found no signs of oxidation in the metal, calling Alfred to tell him that tetanus was unlikely. Seeing Dick lay there, unresponsive and slurring, had scared Bruce more than he wanted to accept.

He’s a man always prepared for the worst, but never knowing what to do in the aftermath. That part of him that whispers his greatest fears screamed at him tonight, only subsiding once he’d returned. He was a coward, he knew this, but there was hardly anything else he could think to be.

“Bruce?”

He opens his eyes to look down, taking in the sight of his eldest son, rosy cheeked and smiling, no longer covered in red stains and frost. It was a good sight. A great sight. Bruce isn’t religious, but he might even call it a blessing.

“Hey, chum. How are you feeling?”

Dick responds by leaning into Bruce’s touch, content and warm. There’s a suspicious wetness building in the graying man’s eyes, but neither make a comment. It was rare, these moments between them. Far and few between, but appreciated nonetheless.

“I hate the cold,” Dick grumbles, sinking further into the mass of blankets. “Winter in Gotham sucks.”

As if on cue, a hearty sneeze erupts from out of Dick’s nose, startling the both of them. Dick sneezed like he was a married man with three children; purposely loud, dramatic, and with enough force to throw his back out. Bruce blinks, processing the sneeze and trying to decide if something like that was even meant to come out of a person, much less a concussed person. 

He needn’t think too hard about it though as a giggle, yes a giggle, makes itself known, filling the Cave with a lightness it doesn’t often experience. 

Dick is laughing and it’s one of the most beautiful things Bruce has ever heard, and he can’t help but chuckle too.

Gotham is cold, but the small med-bay felt like the warmest place in the world.

[dweemeister]

Best Animated Short Film Nominees for the 93rd Academy Awards (2021, listed in order of appearance in the shorts package)

NOTE: For viewers in the United States (continental U.S., Alaska, and Hawai’i) who would like to watch the Oscar-nominated short film packages, click here. For virtual cinemas, you can purchase the packages individually or all three at once. You can find info about reopened theaters that are playing the packages in that link. Because moviegoing carries risks at this time, please remember to follow health and safety guidelines as outlined by your local, regional, and national health officials.

Continuing with one of my favorite Oscar-time traditions, here is an omnibus review of this year’s Academy Award nominees for Best Animated Short Film. This is an older category than many might believe to be, with some of the first nominees and winner including ‘30s and ‘40s fixtures: Disney’s Silly Symphonies, Warner Bros.’ Looney Tunes, MGM’s Tom and Jerry and Happy Harmonies. These days, the category tends to be more democratic (perhaps not so much this year), but certainly more experimental. Here are the nominees, as they appeared in the order of how they appeared in the short film packages released to theaters and virtual cinemas in the United States:

Burrow (2020)

Burrow, directed by Madeline Sharafian (story artist on 2017’s Coco, writer on Cartoon Network’s We Bare Bears), is the eighth in Pixar’s SparkShorts series, in which Pixar’s junior animators craft a short film on a limited budget and timeframe. This is the film that played in front of Soul for those lucky enough to view that film theatrically. This dialogue-free, hand-drawn film stars a young rabbit, looking to dig out and furnish her own home – complete with a bathroom-disco (or something like that). Her best-laid plans, however, seem dashed when she keeps digging and running into other animals’ underground abodes in this area. Not that these animals seem to mind the intrusions too much. The rabbit, so anxiety-driven in her eagerness to project a picture of self-assuredness, soon realizes that these nearby animals she fears to have disturbed are all neighbors, a community ready to lend a paw for the newcomer.

Sharafian credits her sense of impostors’ syndrome when first working at Pixar as the film’s primary thematic inspiration. With only a bare number of lines, the rabbit expresses a vast array of emotions, endearing the audience to her self-dramatization and youthful insecurity. Drawn flatly but nevertheless suggesting some depth, the cutaway animation depicting the burrow neighborhood recalls Richard Scarry’s books and other such colorful ensemble illustrations found in children’s picture books. Burrow is a worthy addition to Disney/Pixar’s animated short film legacy, despite the lack of innovation and obvious low-budget appeal (it uses the third movement of Mozart’s Oboe Concerto as its soundtrack), and seems like something that could have been made during the heyday of Silly Symphonies or Warner Bros.’ Merrie Melodies.

My rating: 7/10

Genius Loci (2020, France)

From the Latin term meaning “the spirit of a place”, Adrien Mérigeau’s Genius Loci is the most difficult, abstract film of this year’s slate of nominees. Genius Loci stars a young black woman named Reine (Nadia Moussa), a solitary soul who embarks upon, while walking the streets of Paris at night, an existential revelation. Reine, who is supposed to be babysitting her nephew that evening, decides to have a small adventure instead. She will find this experience and this Parisian neighborhood disorienting and chaotic, in many of the ways that life in a sprawling metropolis can be. The film’s sound mix clangs, whispers, vibrates, and echoes into Reine’s soul, injecting feelings of harmony, but mostly those of displacement. The distant rumbling of traffic is subliminal here, crescendoing and decrescendoing to control the film’s tension. Throughout, Mérigeau provides a fragmented narrative (do not fixate on the plot) and the protagonist’s intangible, occasionally abstruse, narration. Spiritual and existential loss colors Reine’s ambling, as well as a sense of modern France’s racial otherizing that makes the city feel unwelcoming, if not antagonistic.

Mérigeau (background cleanup on 2009’s The Secret of Kells, art director on 2014’s Song of the Sea) collaborated with Belgian comic illustrator Brecht Evens (production designer on the excellent Marona’s Fantastic Tale from 2019) for the film’s dumbfounding backgrounds, as well as storyboarding the changes in aesthetic as Reine continues her journey through Paris. Marona’s influence is felt keenly throughout Genius Loci – from the lack of recognizably human figures among strangers to Reine and the ever-changing color scheme. Unlike Marona, Genius Loci commits to watercolors (or computerized animation meant to resemble watercolor paints) during the film’s entirety. The watercolor animation serves to loosen the character animation and the backgrounds’ definition, and serves as a paragon of expressionist animation. Genius Loci will bewilder audiences, challenging them to understand Reine’s painful attempt to find belonging and solace in a place that disallows such reflection.

My rating: 8.5/10

Opera (2020, South Korea)

Opera, directed by Erick Oh (an animator at Berkeley-based Tonko House, which crafted the 2014 nominee The Dam Keeper), is an independent South Korean/American production that owes more to Sandro Botticelli and Hieronymus Bosch than anything ever seen in animated cinema. This is a cinematic fresco teeming with activity, intended more as interactive art than for a movie theater. The setting is a pyramid filled with souls living, laboring, luxuriating, dying. As the camera pans downward from the godlike or prophet-like figures occupying the top, it later zooms outward, all timed alongside a day-night cycle. Opera’s story is that of human history, distilled in eight minutes of repetitive activity. The design of Oh’s film is as a museum installation – projected on a wall or the ground (the only instance Opera has been screened as such was at the Ars Electronica Animation Festival in Linz, Austria) – that loops continuously, and, if one looks closely enough at the pyramid’s sections, there are loops within the film’s loops. If viewed in a museum, Opera does not pan selectively as it does if projected in a theater or a home media screen.

Pieced together in between Oh’s other film projects over four years and a pandemic, Oh and his animators (some of whom participated voluntarily, without pay) concentrated on different sections of the pyramid at a time, synchronizing the action in a specific section to match the surrounding areas – and, ultimately, the film as a whole. Opera contains intricacies impossible to realize on first, second, third viewings. Even in its limited, virtual cinema form, it engulfs the viewer in its hierarchical animation, the intentionally simplistic character animation serving to universalize the drama of its beings’ existence. It is rapturous art, the sort that defies description, and undoubtedly will echo across Oh’s subsequent films.

My rating: 8.5/10

If Anything Happens I Love You (2020)

For some American viewers, I imagine that this title alone has already spoiled the film’s content even without seeing any footage. A Netflix production directed by Will McCormack (co-writer on 2019’s Toy Story 4) and Michael Govier (bit roles in American television), If Anything Happens I Love You is the only nominee in this category directed by individuals with no background in directing animation. McCormack and Govier met at acting school; acting remains their primary profession. Without dialogue, the film opens with two parents eating dinner at opposite ends of the table. They seem aloof, their minds elsewhere. The background is spare, with only a jumble of pencil sketches making sense of any barriers enclosing them. Flexible, animated silhouettes appear from their bodies – sometimes arguing vigorously with each other, at times shadowing the person and attempting to call their attention. Grief overhangs their household, expressed through a largely monotone palette, minimalistic designs and backgrounds. The background artists exclude any detail unnecessary to the story.

Written and crafted in collaboration with (so as to not spoil the film, I am about to opaquely write about this film’s intentions) a prominent, deep-pocketed political non-profit so as to shear the film of any thematic excess, If Anything Happens I Love You has, unlike its fellow nominees, broad support among certain prominent actors in Hollywood. Laura Dern is the executive producer and various actors – including Chelsea Handler, Rashida Jones, and Lesley Ann Warren, among others – have openly contributed or advocated for this movie. The visualization of the parents’ pain, even without dialogue, brings the viewer into a space unfathomable to most, unbearable for those who know too well. The use of the King Princess song “1950” meshes awkwardly with what is being portrayed on-screen at the time. But the character animation – McCormack and Govier’s experience as actors endows the couple with indelible humanity – and its visual discipline carry the film to its heartbreaking conclusion.

My rating: 8/10

Yes-People (2020, Iceland)

Icelandic film Já-Fólkið (Yes-People) is the epitome of cheap European computer-generated animation. Directed by Gísli Darri Halldórsson (a former Cartoon Network Studios character animator), Yes-People – the Best Icelandic Short winner at the 2020 Reykjavik International Film Festival and the Children’s Choice Award winner at 2020’s Nordisk Panorama – is a largely aimless movie following the zany lives of the people who live in an apartment complex. That is all I have to say about the film’s narrative. The sketches it draws in each character’s life always feel disjointed and disconnected from all the others – save one scene of the elderly couple fornicating loud enough for their downstairs neighbors to hear. Halldórsson describes his film as a mosaic of personalities, but even a mosaic has a thematic consistency that unifies its disparate parts.

The desaturated colors of Yes-People are meant to resemble old photographs. As much as I respect what Halldórsson is aiming for, the results make the film look muddy, half-rendered – like a knockoff Pixar short from the early 1990s. Inspired when Halldórsson described to some of his Irish friends about the different tonal meanings of the word “Já” (“hello” in Icelandic), Yes-People only has one repeated word of dialogue throughout: “Já”. Is this supposed to be funny? Philosophical? I am not sure; and I am not sure the film knows it either. Reading some of Halldórsson’s interviews following his Academy Award nomination, he mentions that the film’s positive response from Iceland and Scandinavia might be culturally specific, as opposed to other parts of the world. As to what those cultural differences might be that prevented me from liking this film, I hardly have a clue.

My rating: 6/10

^ All ratings based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

Three other films played in this package as honorable mentions: Kapaemahu (2020; 7.5/10), The Snail and the Whale (2019; 6.5/10), and To: Gerard (2020; 6.5/10).

From previous years: 85th Academy Awards (2013), 87th (2015), 88th (2016), 89th (2017), 90th (2018), 91st (2019), 92nd (2020).

[bibbykins]

Retroactive Redamancy (M)

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC. This fic does have some darker scenes which I will detail in the warnings. This fic wasn’t as difficult for me to write, but we all have different triggers, so please take care of yourself first above all else. On a lighter note, I am extremely happy to be finishing the soft yandere series. Is this the last of my soft yandere fics or this au? Absolutely not, I have a ton of fun writing yandere and this au, but I am also looking forward to the other fics I plan on posting. All of my wips have some yandere elements, but in varying degree. I hope you will continue to support me and have a great day/night and stay safe in these trying times!

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst

Word count: 11.9k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Hoseok x reader

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood, graphic descriptions of domestic abuse (not done by Hoseok), graphic descriptions of injury on the mouth/tongue, mentions of trauma, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of puke, penetrative sex, cunnilingus, cumming inside *** all sexual acts mentioned are consensual ***, unhealthy relationship, toxic relationship

Summary: You both swore you would never see each other again. It’s funny how fate works, even when you have to go through hell to make it work. His house was just a random house as you stumbled out of a cab, blood pooling in your mouth. You had no expectations for him to catch you when you fell, and most importantly, protect you when you needed it most. He sat you on his throne and called himself your knight. Is it wrong of you to love him again for it? Is it wrong of him to keep you? Is it wrong of you to want to be kept? 

The act of loving back.

It was the way he looked at you. It was the way he made you feel like the only one in his world and him the only one in yours. It was love. But that's the tricky thing about two people loving one another. One person can decide it is no longer a shared love. In a split second, it is unrequited.

---

“I-I don't understand.”  Your bottom lip quivered as Hoseok stood in front of you. In any other situation, he would've knelt down and consoled you, but this was an outlier in that pattern, “You said you wanted to be with me for the rest of your life.”

“For the rest of my life here.” He gestured to your hometown surrounding both of you, “Now I have to go back to my life.”

His life? But this was his life. Right?

He said you were his world and now he couldn’t wait to explore another universe, any universe away from you.

That's when it hit you. All you did was keep him company as he studied abroad. He was a college sophomore testing out the waters of a new country, and you were a high school senior, browsing for college and falling head over heels for this man the past nine months.

"You must have a lovely girlfriend at home, huh?" He remained silent, guilty. You let out a breathy laugh, “Oh, I see.” You sighed, the tears finally toppling over and hitting your cheeks, “You're scared to be alone.” He remained silent, “What kind of man are you back home that you call this here a different life?” Guilty silence, “I love you, and you don't know a damn thing about me I bet.” Your lip quivered, "That's what I get for being the other woman." You spit the words out, more angry with yourself.

“You're angry, I get it.” He spoke softly as he reached for your hand and you recoiled sharply, “You hate me.”

“I'm hurt.” You snapped, looking him in his eyes full of guilt, “I could never hate you, just like you could never love me. Just like how you refuse to tell me where home is for you. Just like how you refuse to tell me about your family. Just like how you refuse to fall in love because you are so afraid of the other person not catching you. Well, I have just hit the ground, and I hope you're fucking ecstatic.” Your tears didn't hinder your words but made them hit harder in Hoseok’s eyes. 

You were always so observant. He wondered where life would take you with that talent. Where you wanted to go with that talent. He made sure he never knew.

You were only in high school. You were just 18. You would forget him.

“I can't believe how much I love you.” You sighed, “I'm so fucking pathetic. I'm sick of this.” You sniffed and he braced himself for the final proclamation of hate, “You have a great life in mystery land with a mystery girl and achieve all the things you want to with your mystery major, and I will do the same, okay?”  You took a deep breath, “Do great things in life.” You told him before turning on your heel and walking away.

It would have been easier on the both of you if you hated him.

----

Hoseok was now in his first year of graduate school. He was the director of human resources at a large company. He was wealthy, smart, and he loved to have company, even if it was not his ideal companion. There was a certain whisper from his past that kept him awake after an exhausting one nightstand.

The void in his heart was semi-filled as he stuffed his dick inside someone else. Hoseok had established a pattern of getting a secretary into bed and then the secretary would quit once their declaration of love was effectively denied. He could not admit to himself why he rejected each confession, but he knew it had to do with a certain girl he had denied himself further access too at an attempt toward redemption. Despite this unspoken wound on his heart, he was expecting to do the same cycle of his with his soon to be former secretary Jiyeon on this cold night until he heard a knock on his door, a persistent one.

“Give me one second.” He pecked the girl's neck at the table, expecting it to be the groceries he ordered.

Upon opening the door, Hoseok found something else. He found a girl with a thin sweater and sweatpants shaking. She had a face mask and her eyes were downcast. 

When you heard the door open you looked up, “H-Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?” You were baffled, “I-I didn't know you live here, but I need a favor.” He knew who you were. He knew the way his name came from your lips. He knew how the syllables roll off your tongue.

Hoseok drew a breath, trying to make sure he was living and breathing at this moment. He couldn’t imagine he had been dreaming about you this time. All his dreams of you were blissful. Although, this setting of you needing something from him could very well be in his dreams. 

It was really you. The not so forgotten dream girl he abandoned in favor of his fear of commitment. You looked different. You looked hurt. What were you doing here? How did you even get here? Why were you here after years of being apart?

You, on the other hand, felt a mixture of relief and dread. On one hand, Hoseok was a sore spot in your romantic history, but he was officially the best boyfriend you’ve had, albeit, by default. On the other hand, you were in pain and you wanted nothing more than to cry and be coddled, but feeling secure that this man would not hurt you physically was enough.

It was really him. The man who turned his back on you. The man who was still as beautiful as the day he left you, but now was absolutely not the time to focus on that,  “I need to use a phone or charge mine.” You squeaked and Hoseok looked at you in bewilderment, and you assumed it was due to not recognizing you, “It's y/n.” You offered but he was still stunned, as you saw a beautiful woman linger behind him, “Look, I don't care who you're fucking right now, please let me in.” Your voice was quaking, desperate. He had never heard it like this before.

 He stepped to the side as you scurried in, “Jiyeon, leave.” The girl balked and he turned to her with a stern eye, “Go.” The girl scoffed as she slammed the front door behind her.

“Where's the bathroom?” You immediately asked, bottom lip beginning to tremble as the pain set in.

“Y/n, what-" He had so many questions

“Later, I promise,” Your voice shook as your body still was, “Bathroom, please.” Your mouth sounded full almost and Hoseok studied you to find a line of red down your neck. 

It was dried blood, but upon further inspection not all of it was dry.

“You're bleeding!”  He spoke incredulously as he went to take your mask off. You wanted to fight it, but you were exhausted, “Don't even think about fighting me. You're hurt.” He read your mind as he pulled the mask down with a steady hand. The mask revealed a busted lip and a cut tongue that was now oozing blood, “Holy shit!” The man went to grab a rag as he held it to your lip, “What the fuck happened?!” He led your shaky legs over to a barstool in his kitchen.

You sat down, slumped over, looking at the rag to see small amounts of blood blotting the fabric. You were no longer gushing. That was good, “I didn't know where else to go.” You were muffled against the cotton, “This was the first place I could find. I had no idea you would- you would be here.”

Hoseok took a look at you. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your cheeks were stained with pure tears. Your nose had traces of blood on the nostrils. Your hands were bruised with open slices that stopped bleeding. Your shirt was torn on the stomach and shoulder. Your feet only had socks on them as your sweatpants had even more dry blood.

Hoseok shuddered at the thought of what happened. He wondered if someone did it. The notion made his blood boil. He took a look at your hand and saw an engagement ring. His blood was no on fire. It didn't take a genius to see what happened. To put two and two together.

You followed his eyes and scoffed, “Pretty, huh?” You mused, lifting your finger up, “You should feel it when someone makes you slice your tongue on it.” You spoke flatly as Hoseok wet a paper towel to clean your chin.

You let go of the rag, the blood now dry and finished pouring out, “What happened?” Hoseok asked softly as you sighed.

“I have poor, poor taste in men.” You sniffled,” No offense.” You offered to the man in front of you,  “I am a victim of my poor judgment.” You sighed, and coughed as the thickness of your own blood sliding down your throat before it finally hit you, “Holy shit that hurts.” Your hand stroked your throat as Hoseok caught glimpse of faded bruises along your neck.

“How… How are you here?” He pressed a cold hand to your neck and you flinched before relaxing against his touch.

“Alive or in your home?” You giggled before coughing, “Sorry, not funny.” You breathed a small sigh as a wet cloth began to wipe away the blood that dripped onto your neck, “I went to University in Ilsang about two years ago. I fell for a man who could never love me, call me a creature of habit, but his parents did love me. I am quite the parent charmer, so he proposed, we moved just outside of the city, and began to plan the wedding.” Your cocky smile fell as you wiped a drop of blood from your mouth, “But the funny thing about being the girl of his parents' dreams almost always means I am not the girl of his.” Hoseok could feel his body heating in rage, “She is sexier, wild, and full of life, so she tried to take mine away, much to his approval.” You felt a tear try to squeeze past your swollen eye, “Call me a pacifist, but I prefer to be broken up with rather than beat.” Hoseok could finally see your face now with all the blood gone. You hadn't changed much, still as beautiful as the day he met you, “I won't bore you with the gore, but it was without purpose. I got a job in the city here as well as a scholarship for the university, so I was planning to leave anyway. However, running from my old apartment covered in blood and begging a taxi to take me as far as he can is not how I planned to make the move.”

“You mean she attacked you and he just let it happen?” Hoseok clenched the cloth in his hand.

“He… uh, held me down.” You shivered, all feigned strength and nonchalance absolved as you realized the gravity of your situation. You were homeless, beaten, and your job didn't begin until after the New Year thanks to a paid holiday break you still got compensated for, and now felt extremely thankful for, “God, this is so fucking crazy."

“We need to call the police!” Hoseok, in contrast to you, was fuming. How someone could ever lay a hand on you is something he would never care to understand. He just wanted to see them burn.

“No point.” You sighed for the nth time of the night. You opened your mouth to elaborate but was cut off by your own coughing as the blood in your tongue tried to make its way down your throat again. 

Hoseok didn't hesitate in putting his hand in front of your mouth. He felt your blood splatter onto his hand, “God, give me his name.” He murmured as you coughed into his hand.

“I'm sorry.” You coughed again, before pulling away from his hand, “That is so gross.” You looked to his bloodied hand.

There was something almost primal with the way Hoseok felt the need to take care of you. No matter how many years went by or the amount he fucked up with you, his instinct to keep you safe has not changed, much to his dismay. Throughout the years, he did his best to stay away from you, but he found himself more than horrified by the result of this.

You were in his kitchen, beaten and coughing blood into his hand. He was trying to remain calm as he wet a towel to wipe your neck, but his knuckles turned white on the sink when he turned the faucet. He needed to know the names of the people who did this. He needed to tear them down.

Hoseok brought a white rag into your neck and the cooling sensation of the water made your eye flutter closed in bliss. He savored the moment of your care-free look. He missed it. He carefully rid your neck of your caked-on blood and he was happy to see your beautiful skin again.

You let him brush the rag against the corners of your mouth and on your cheek, cleaning you. He turned the rag to a clean side and pushed your cheeks lightly opening your mouth. You got the hint and reluctantly stuck your tongue out, but the feeling of the cool cloth on your wounded tongue made up for it.

You were beautiful, even more so now that he could see your face, “There you are.” He murmured, “Doesn’t look like your face will bruise.” He mused as he cleaned your tongue, “Tongues heal pretty quick and the cut isn’t too deep either.” His first aid training from last month was proving pretty useful.

“You think so?” You asked him before looking into his eyes.

Hoseok returned your look. His face lit up as your innocent eyes looked for confirmation. In your eyes, Hoseok could see all that he denied himself. He could see the number of times you cried without him there, the times you giggled and he wasn't there to tease you on how cute it was, and the times you proclaimed to love someone who didn't deserve it. But no more. Hoseok had you here now, and he was dead set on keeping it that way. You were the one.

Hoseok was always so warm, and his eyes showed as much when he returned your gaze with the same smile that made your heartbeat, “You'll be just fine.” He touched your cheek softly and you relaxed fully for the first time this whole night.

There was something about his affirmation that made you feel like everything would be okay. You would start your new job and be the person you always wanted to be. You would be more than a beaten girl on your ex’s front porch. You would be able to close your eyes and wake up to a new day. This night will be in the past one day. You have a future ahead of you. These are all the things that seemed impossible hours ago. These are all the things Hoseok reminded you of in just four words. 

With this in mind, you decided it was time to let go of tonight. Let go of the pain and the suffering for just a moment.

You felt your bottom lip tremble and you let it happen as you felt your chest give as you let the sob jump out of your mouth. You let go of the rag you held and gripped the soft shirt Hoseok was wearing and pressed your forehead against his chest. You took a deep breath and felt the long-withheld tears pour down your cheeks as you hiccuped and sobbed against his chest.

If Hoseok wasn't so in love with you, he would think you were breaking down. However, he knew better. You were still his y/n after all. This is how you rebuilt. This is how you let go and face the future. This is how you heal. You express emotion in the most physical way you can. You find peace in watching the pain dry from your eyes. 

He wrapped your arms around you as you cried into his chest, clutching onto him for dear life, “You never change.” He mused as your shoulders shook, “Still my strong girl, even after all this time.” He stroked your hair as you sniffled.

You had stayed like this for a while. You let hell loose on Hoseok’s shirt. For a moment, it was like you were together again. It was as if you went back with him instead of all those years ago. You went to school with him and moved in with him. You would flaunt the love you two shared in glee as you spent your life with your first love. There would be no one else. Just him.

While this fantasy was nothing but, at this moment, you remembered how right it felt to be in his arms. Maybe you had been obsessed with him these past few years. Maybe you still loved him like you were still a teenager

Little did you know, he often dreamt of the possibility. 

“I-I thought I was gonna die there!” You sobbed.

Hoseok only held you tighter, unable to even bear the thought, “I'm never letting you go, y/n.” He cooed, “You have to know that.” 

A possibility that no longer seemed too out of reach.

Hoseok held you for hours before he felt your grip relax and your breathing even. Your weight was fully on him and he was happy to see you trusting him enough at this moment to fall asleep. To feel safe enough to rest. He wondered when the last time was that you slept peacefully. 

You stayed in this position until he was sure you were asleep. He lifted you in his arms as your head drooped against his shoulder. He carried you to his bedroom with the lightest step as he laid you down. 

Not one to overstep boundaries too much, Hoseok opted to sleep on the couch after tucking you in. He laid down and he wondered about all the ways he could make that bastard ex of yours pay. 

You woke up purely on your own. No alarm. No paranoia. No nightmare. Just your internal clock, which you were delighted to find was still functioning. You opened your eyes and yes, everything hurt, but you were still comfortable. 

You sat up, and that's when everything really hurt. You cried out as you put your hand to your aching head. Crying always gave you a headache. Paired with the beating from last night, your head was hell.

Hoseok raced down the hall to get to you. You looked up to see him out of breath and holding a bottle of water with a small pill in his hand, “Be careful!” He softly scolded as he handed you the pill and unscrewed the cap on the bottle.

You took the bottle from him as you popped the pill marked with the brand of a painkiller into your mouth before drinking the water. You had only then just realized how thirsty you were and began gulping it.

“Hey, hey slow down.” Hoseok’s hand lightly caressed your nape and you slowly put the bottle down, now half empty.

“Sorry, my-” You winced, your tongue proving to be quite sensitive.

“Talk lightly, you’re healing.” Hoseok cooed and for a moment you were brought back to the ridiculous reality you were brought into. You were in your first love’s bed alone after being nearly killed by your ex-fiance's side-chick. Now, the man who broke your heart was nursing you back to full health and treating your wounds. You wondered if you would wake up soon from this fever dream. Although, the pain on your tongue told you this was all too real.

“My throat was raw.” You with your tongue barely touching your mouth, making your speech much slower, “Is what I was trying to say.”

“I figured as much, you had a rough night to say the least, sweetheart.” Hoseok smiled at you reassuringly, “But here we are, a new day, a new chapter.” He gestured around him, “Now, your phone has been going off quite incessantly since I charged it, is there anyone that you were hoping to hear from?” 

You thought for a moment. You moved to South Korea on your own and the only friend you made became your fiance, now ex. His mom would call from time to time, but no way were you talking to her. Your family was long gone, so that’s out of the question. All you had was your new job, but it was a Saturday morning. You shook your head.

“Do you mind if I look at who it is?” He asked and you shook your head, the pounding of it having now subsided, letting the light vibrations of your phone on the nightstand register in your eardrum. Hoseok reached over and took your severely cracked phone into his slender hand, “Who is Oh Sookwang?” He asked, noticing the way you tensed up, “Ah, so that’s his name.” He noted as part of the work that he needs to get done once the workweek begins.

“Wh-What did he say?” You asked hesitantly. Hoseok also hesitated as he scrolled through the texts he sent, “Is it bad?”

“It’s certainly bad for him.” His voice was much colder now with his eyes transfixed on the phone, “It seems he wants to know if you’re dead.” He spoke flatly, “He also wants the ring back for Minyoung.”

You scoffed, unsure of what you expected. You clenched your fist and felt the gold band of the ring dig into your finger. The diamond has specks of your blood dried onto it by now. He probably didn’t even want it for Minyoung. It was probably going to serve as a trophy for another woman broken under their hands. It was a sign of the torment they were capable of inflicting with all the money and the power their feuding parents could give them. You ripped the ring off your finger before throwing it across the room. 

Hoseok watched as the diamond fell out of the ring and onto his bedroom floor. He rolled his eyes at how cheap of a ring this other man dared to present to someone so extremely out of his league. 

“The world is just going to keep turning under his discretion, isn’t it?” Your upper lip twitched in rage.

Hoseok leaned down and kissed the top of your head, “Not while I’m around.”

You looked up at the man who stood before you, “His family is powerful, and so is hers, it’s useless.”

Hoseok chuckled lightly before ruffling your hair, “Look around, babe, I’m powerful.” 

----

It had been a little more than a week before you agreed to stay with Hoseok. On one hand, he was your first love and heartbreak but on the other hand, you had nowhere else to go. The apartment you planned to move to was detected by Sookwang and for your safety, you decided to not sign the lease. Not like Hoseok would let you.

It had been almost a month since that night now. Your company extended your leave due to the circumstances you were faced with and Hoseok arranged his schedule so he could stay home until you went to work.

He had been quite the caretaker. A doctor he trusted came to make a housecall and gave you a clean bill of health, meaning no broken bones or internal bleeding. You screamed the first time he touched you, so you had to hold Hoseok's hand throughout his assessment. The trauma of it all had not hit you until another stranger had to touch you. Hoseok offered to take you to a counselor but you declined, not ready to say it out loud yet. Even so, you eventually did see someone for coping practices and a diagnosis you had already known.

Being with him again was nostalgic in its own way. Sometimes it felt like catching up with an old friend but then other days it felt like you were picking up right where you left off. Of course, you knew you had no business getting into another relationship after just ending an engagement. In reality, though, the engagement ended long ago, you had just stayed around like a loyal punching bag.

“I forgot how good of a cook you were.” You smiled at Hoseok and the fact you could speak without feeling an ache, “You've only gotten better too, no fair.” You pouted at him.

Hoseok took off his apron, moving to join you at the table, “It's just chicken parmesan, not rocket science.” He ruffled your hair, “Cutie.”

You looked at the man across from you and smiled at the way he settled in, “So, tomorrow you go back to work, right?” You asked as you shoveled the food into your mouth.

“Yes, but I could very easily-” You pouted at him reusing the same line. 

“No.” You reiterated, “We are both working tomorrow, remember?” Hoseok closed his mouth in defeat. You had made a good case about needing to return to work and move on this past week that he could not deny, “Be excited, it's cementing this new start.” You smiled reassuringly.

His face softened at you beaming grin and he smiled back, defeated, “I am excited, just worried.” He sighed.

You knew why. He was scared of you getting hurt or your ex trying to finish his lover's job, “You already reported them, so it's okay.” Hoseok nodded at your words, happy with how calm you were now compared to when you found out what he had done.

That was a rough day. You turned on the news to see the fall of Sookwang’s family corporation and Minyoung also went from heiress to most wanted. They were both under investigation for the attempted murder of an unknown female and embezzlement. There had been outside corporate lawyers and criminal lawyers called to the case. You screamed and cried that day, Hoseok taking the brunt of your misdirected anger. You feared taking the stand and that's what really drove your tantrum.

Hoseok grimaced at the memory, protective instincts kicking in, “You could at least tell me where you work or your job.” He grumbled.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “I told you I will.” You pointed your fork at him, “After a week, because otherwise you will show up or send someone to not so discreetly watch me.” You watch Hoseok slump, guilty, “And you will tell me all about your job then so I don't run to you whenever I get scared.”

“But I want you to run to me if you get scared.” He pouted this time, “I can't bear the thought of you being alone.”

“I can just call you, doofus.” You reached you his hand across the table and watched as he relaxed at the contact, “If I make you my crutch, I will only prove people like Sookwang and Minyoung right.” You mused sadly, “I gotta be better than that.”

Hoseok bit his tongue. He wanted to say that you were miles above scum like them. He would kill them with his bare hands if he didn't have the basic human rationale he cultivated ever so slightly. His morals weren't there, but he couldn't take care of you behind prison bars and he couldn't take you away into hiding and still make you happy. He also couldn't incite violence in fear of you comparing him to Minyoung. He had weighed his options very heavily and was extremely grateful he had the power to ensure the legal system would not fail you. With this, he chose to discipline scum with proper justice and corporate murder.

“You already are.” Hoseok squeezed your hand and stared into your eyes. The feelings he had just looking at you was hard to contain. He would give anything to kiss you again and have you as his, but he knew you wouldn't believe the time was right.

“Thank you.” You stared back at him with an almost equal amount of love and care. You were on your way to the right time. He just knew it.

“I'm sorry that I ever left you.” Hoseok blurted out as you began shaking your head.

You stopped him from speaking any further, “I'm glad you did.” You cut him off, “I needed this all to happen to be who I am now.” You smiled a bit, “It's clichè to say, I know, but before yesterday I considered not taking this job just because I was scared people would be mean.” You mused, “But I lived and at some point loved a man who literally wanted me dead, so what more could a disgruntled coworker or a mean boss do to me?” You picked at the pasta briefly, “I was much too spoiled before all of this. Everything I had was handed to me.”

Hoseok's face scrunched up, “You're the most hardworking person I know.” He spoke up, “You work for everything you get and you still deserve more than that.” 

“These past two years, I would wake up and feel ashamed for breathing.” You felt the pressure in your eyes, “I felt bad that I was still alive because I was causing all of this trouble.”

“None of that was your fault.” Hoseok gripped your hand tightly, “You were not the bad guy in that situation.”

“And logically, I know that, but it just gets to you after a while. Except for today,” You finally looked up at Hoseok and beamed just a little, “I woke up and I didn't even notice the pain, I looked out the window and saw a beautiful day. You smiled at me and everything was okay.” You watched as his signature smile grew, “I wasn't just an abuse victim, for the first time, I felt like a survivor.”

“You are.” He confirmed with and encouraging squeeze.

“And if being one means all this shit had to happen, so be it.” You affirmed to both Hoseok and yourself, “These next few days are gonna be rough, but Dr. Lin says I'm getting better at shaking his hand without shaking the rest of my body.” You giggled a bit before looking at your hand, Hoseok stroking the tan line where your ring used to be.

“The moment you feel uncomfortable, come home.” Hoseok pleaded, “You told them what happened, right?”

You sighed with a nod, “Yeah, they got the emails Dr. Lin drafted and they were actually really kind about it.”

“Good, but even if they weren't, you could work with me.” He offered for the millionth time and you rolled your eyes, “I know, I know, I just want to make sure you're safe and happy and eating right and hydrated and-”

“I am capable of doing so by myself too.” You pointed your fork at him, “I really appreciate you, Hobi, but you have to trust me.” 

Hoseok rested his case in favor of how happy you looked to start this mysterious new job and the fact that his old nickname slipped from your lips for the first time in years. You knew how to play him like a fiddle and had no idea. The last thing he would want was for you to hate him so he even opted to not research you to figure out what your job was. All you said was that you were freelance before they hired you which gave him nothing.

The next morning you woke up at the crack of dumb. In the mirror, you checked your tongue, the wound healed and the uncomfortable stitches you had a week ago fully dissolved. The whole incident felt like a distant nightmare now. All marks from it fully healed, and now only the scars remained. 

You heard Hoseok walking down the stairs, most likely to start the coffee before making breakfast. You had been staying in his guest room, for the time being, your bathroom was in the hall and he could see the light under the door, indicating you were awake. He had offered you the other bedroom with its own bathroom, but you wanted to get used to leaving your room a little more. 

It had been a long while since you put on makeup with a motivation revolving around self-care and confidence as opposed to masking clumps of busted vessels and capillaries lingering beneath your skin. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face as you applied eyeliner and checked your work in the mirror. There was something therapeutic about painting your face with a much lighter intent. You were excited, and for the first time in a while, you could feel your nerves buzzing and the butterflies in your stomach blooming from their cocoon. 

You also hadn't put this much effort into your hair this entire time. Hoseok would sometimes brush your hair after a shower, mostly out of habit from when both your hands had been wrapped up. However, beyond that, it was kept in its natural state, which you figured was mediocre at best when paired with your naked and bruised face at the time. Hoseok always talked about how beautiful you were, but this was the first time in a while you felt anywhere close to it.

There were no bruises on your face, your dark circles were not even half the horror they used to be, you didn't even have to slather foundation and concealer in an effort to cover an open wound. Your face had never felt so soft, scabs no longer present. You looked at your finished look and squealed to yourself. You looked nice. Your clothes were also stylish, in typical Hoseok fashion, he had surprised you with a new wardrobe beyond all protests, and you couldn't deny how nice it all looked on you. You had called him ridiculous for approaching you with a measuring tape, but the fit was no joke with how it hugged your figure.

“Breakfast is ready!” He called from downstairs and you smiled, excited to show him how you looked.

You nearly pranced down the stairs and to the kitchen to see Hobi with his back turned, getting coffee, “Oh y/n, did you want-” He turned around and was met with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, “Holy shit.”

To him, you were always beautiful, but you were glowing this time due to your chipper mood. You smiled brightly at him as he took in your appearance. From the stylish high waisted black slacks with a flowy lavender blouse. The black pumps you had only accentuated your confident stature. Your face had light traces of makeup, but it had been growing to be more and more radiant. He took note of the necklaces you wore to compliment your skin complexion. Everything you were fit you so well, his mind was plagued by sinful thoughts of taking them off.

You weren't holding up well either. Hoseok was stunning no matter what, but this was the first time in a long time you had seen him in a suit. His hair was styled perfectly with his brown hair tousled in waves. His suit was well-fitting and the dress shirt managed to outline his muscles. The rings he had on next to his watch made you weak in the knees for some inexplicable reason. The glasses he wore only added to his sugar daddy aesthetic. Were you a gold digger or in love with this man?

You blinked away the question once you registered his profanity, “Is that a good holy shit?” You teased as you sat in front of the plate he set on the table.

“You're a goddess.” He groaned and you giggled, while he walked over with two coffee cups.

“And you're exaggerating.” You poked his nose before picking up your fork, catching sight at the tan line on your ring finger.

Hoseok watched your smile drop a little, “Y/n, are you alright?” His face showed very evident worry.

You looked up, snapping out of your trance, “Yeah, just this dumb tanline.” You huffed, “It's so blatant.”  You held up your hand to Hoseok, although he knew about the line all too well.

“I can put a ring on your finger.” You choked on your coffee at Hoseok's blunt words, “Y/n!” He made a move to stand and help you but you shook your head as you coughed.

“People will think I'm engaged.” You regained composure, “They'll ask me all kinds of questions.”

Hoseok would be lying if he said that was a bad thing. This would keep any intruders into your relationship with him away. This would keep you closer to him. He shrugged, “Engaged or not,” He placed a quaint box on the table, “I already bought the ring so…” He pushes the box toward you with a cheeky smile, “It's winter now, so you can just wear it until it fades.”

You chuckle as you take the box, “This might be more romantic than my proposal.” You joked, “He spelled it out in roses with candles around it.”

“You hate roses.” Hoseok pointed out and you nodded with an eye roll, “You know what?” He grabbed the blue velvet box and went around the table. Before you could ask what he was doing, he knelt down on one knee, taking your hand, “Y/n L/n, will you stay with me?”

You giggled, “I would be honored.” He beamed at you as he opened the box to reveal and black diamond with two smaller traditional ones on each side with a silver band which he slid on your finger, “I used to dream about this in high school.” You admired the ring, “I had a whole dream board for our future wedding.” 

Hoseok chuckled at this, “You really loved me, huh?”

You frowned as he stood to go back to his side of the table. Without thinking you gripped his hand, making him turn back to you, “I'll always love you, Hobi.” The words jumped out of your mouth before you could even consider the weight they held and the terrible timing it was. Your ex wasn't even in prison yet. His sentencing had yet to come and here you were like a blushing schoolgirl pining after Hoseok all over again.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was over the moon. He knew it, but to hear you say it was a new experience in and of itself. You were almost there. Almost ready for him to have you. For you to have him. He saw the worry creep on you face and then dissolve when he gripped your hand back, “And I, you.” He simply said before kissing your knuckles and then returning to his seat.

When it came time for you to go via the driver Hoseok insisted on you having, he hugged you tightly, “Call me if you feel anything other than excitement.” He let out a shaky breath before letting you go from his embrace to grip your shoulders, “Text me whenever you can just how you feel, okay?”

You smiled at him reassuringly, “If I get a papercut, I'll let you know the moment I put a bandage on.” You proclaimed dramatically and Hoseok whined, “I will call you if I need to, okay?” He nodded, “Do you trust me?” Another nod. You cupped his face before bringing it down to kiss his forehead softly. When he lifted his face it was dusted with a light brush, “Have a good day at work.” 

Hoseok took the chance to kiss your forehead this time, “You have the greatest day at work.” He spoke softly and you nodded before exiting through the front door.

Coming back to work was always a sore spot for him, but now that he had you back, it felt even worse. He was already missing you. On top of that, Jiyeon had quit so he had to be his own secretary for a while. He wondered how Taehyung did it for so long. Due to this new workload, he had no idea what his schedule was.

Hoseok looked up as he heard a knock on the glass door of his office. He always kept the blinds down, so he blindly let the visitor in with a call. Namjoon emerged with an exasperated look on his face, “You forgot, didn't you?” When he received Hoseok's response if an eyebrow raise he sighed, “Our fully recovered CEO is having a meeting with all the department heads with our newly wrangled Behavioral Scientist.” An ignorant blink, “The dude is like your new right-hand man Mr. Director of Human Resources.” 

“Oh right!” Hoseok stood, “Our expert in body language for sitting in on interviews.” He nodded, “What's his name again?”

Namjoon shrugged, “Who knows, but CEO Kim said he read her like a diary she was so impressed.” He smirked, “Maybe he’ll smell what an HR nightmare you are right off the bat.”

Hoseok walked over to the door Namjoon stood in the way of, “Hey, hey, I'm a changed man, remember?” He walked out of his office with his colleague, “I have all I need at home.”

His friends teasing tone dissipated as he remembered the shaking girl he encountered just a week ago, “Oh, that's right, how is she?” Namjoon asked, genuinely concerned.

“Better.” Hoseok smiled at his friend, “She starts her new job today, and she's been doing a lot better.”

Namjoon nodded, “When we all met her, she did real well.” He sighed, “Not sure how anyone would ever want to hurt her, but that guy's as good as dead anyway.”

“That much I made sure of.” Hoseok confirmed.

“Jeez, you sound like Tae and Jimin.” Namjoon laughed.

“Just you wait until it's your turn.” Hoseok teased as they reached the conference room to be met with the other five of his friends which was weird since three of them were not higher-ups in the company.

“And I thought this was a director only meeting.” Namjoon mused.

“She said she wanted her favorite boys here.” Taehyung smiled, “This new hire seems to have her struck, said she sees em as another child already.”

“She's too caring for her own good sometimes, watch this dude be some discount medium who claims he can read aura's.” Yoongi scoffed.

“She's not one to be wowed by parlor tricks.” Jin pointed out.

“She has been on morphine for the past couple days though.” Jungkook pointed out.

“You guys give her no credit.” Jimin sighed, “She's still a businesswoman.”

“But she's also a human who extended Hoseok's holiday leave because so that he could stay with his angel.” Yoongi chimed back in.

“Well, I'm excited nonetheless.” Hoseok sat down as Namjoon did before hearing the door open.

CEO Kim walked in with a warm smile, “Hello, boys!” The old woman in her late 60's cheered and was met with a chorus of greetings, “Lovely of you all to make it here. I've been healing just fine before you ask.” She looked at Taehyung in particular, “Gonna take more than some kidney surgery to get me down.” She joked with a light giggle, “Anyways, I'm absolutely pleased to introduce our new addition to HR as the Employment Analyst," She looked out the door, “Come on in, dear.”

You walked through the door, palms already warm. You looked down for a moment, “Good morning!” You lifted your head only to be met with awfully familiar faces, “Oh my.”

“Y/n!” Jungkook was the first to chirp as the other men were completely floored.

The CEO smiled cheerfully, “You know her? Perfect!” She clasped her hands, “My dear here has had a rough adjustment, so do make her feel welcome!” You graciously smiled at the sweet old woman.

“H-Hey guys.” You twiddled your thumbs, “Fancy meeting you here.” You smiled weakly. 

“Y/n, here is a student and is here to help our HR find and keep only the best of the best.” The CEO beamed brightly, “Anyways, she will be working will be working for Mr. Jung.”

You looked at Hoseok and he gave you his signature smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

After the meeting was adjourned, Hoseok made his way to you with the same smile he had before, "You're fantastic." He patted your head affectionately and you giggled.

"You're too much." You stuck your tongue out, "I'm going to go set up my office." You smiled before exiting the conference room with quaint smiles and bows to the remaining 6 other men in the room. The company was eccentric, to say the least, but at least you had familiar faces to rely on.

"You know, you are surprisingly relaxed." Yoongi mused, catching Hoseok's attention.

Hoseok was even then, only partly paying attention as he was caught up in his lovelorn bliss, "Well, of course, why wouldn't I be?" He sighed.

The other men exchanged looks, "Do you not know your reputation?" This snatched Hoseok back to Earth.

"Yeah, she's definitely going to find out," Jungkook added, earning a glare.

Even so, Hoseok knew the men were right. You would not be pleased to find out about his promiscuity, especially in the workplace. You would have every right to be angry, but he still hoped you would understand that he was only trying to fill a void he created by abandoning you. He was a new man.

"That, plus you have secretaries to interview today." Taehyung chimed in, "My darling was kind enough to call them in after Jiyeon called me, hysterical, before quitting." He shot a glare to Hoseok.

"Actually, I think y/n's first task is to interview said, ladies." Namjoon fought the emerging smile on his face as Hoseok nearly went pale.

Jimin spoke this time, "Hobi?" He caught the man's attention, "Run."

Needing no further instruction, he made a dash for the elevator.

"Oh, hello." You caught the attention of a beautiful chestnut-haired woman, "Can I help you?" You smiled at her as you carried a box to your office adjacent to Hoseok's.

She scanned your form before letting her guard down. You should've been offended by how quickly she wrote you off as a non-threat, but you let it go, "I'm looking for Jung Hoseok." She flashed you a smile, a very fake one judging by the stiffness in her face.

You shook off the insecurity planting itself in your psyche before it could latch, "He's in a meeting, but I'm a new worker in this department so I could-"

"They hired you?!" She quickly cut you off, "I didn't even get a chance to interview yet, and they gave the assistant position to you?!" She threw her hands up before her eyes landed on the ring you were, "Wow, are taken women his thing, or something?" She sneered. You felt your throat close in panic and rage all at once. You watched in hidden horror as her face seemed to morph into Minyoung's. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and replaced it with a quaint smile, a very fake one, "Actually, I'm the new Employment Analyst." You quipped, "I believe I'm your interviewer in fact." The woman went pale, "I'm still setting up my office, but you are very punctual, I'll give you that." You smiled at her, "I am nothing if not fair, so if you would like to take a seat while I set up, I'll be right with you." You gestured to the chairs outside the door to your office and she took the seat slowly. You closed the door behind you, stalking to your desk to place the box on top of the mahogany only to slump down into a crouched position with an exasperated sigh.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, blowing it out through pursed lips to prevent yourself from hyperventilating, "Get it together." You curse yourself. It had maybe been 10 minutes and you were already hiding under your desk, "Fuck, why did I think I could do this?" You closed your eyes in defeat when the door slammed open, startling you.

"Y/n!" Hoseok's voice caused you to internally panic and hit your head under the desk.

"Shit!" You scolded the pain, "I-Is my interviewee still out there?" You wondered aloud as Hoseok rushed to your side.

"I sent them home." He sighed before lifting you to sit on your chair and wordlessly began to guide you through your breathing, just as he had a million times before, just as he had when you were still in high school and especially in the last month.

You worked through the breathing and felt yourself seethe. You were more frustrated than angry, but still angry. Why did this random girl affect you so terribly? Why did Hoseok send her home? Why couldn't you just keep it the fuck together?

"Well, I suggest you leave," You sighed out as your chest rose and fell at its usual pace, "I have more coming."

"You can just cancel them." Hoseok shook his head at the thought of you interviewing a shamefully specific demographic of women he hired, "I want to find the candidates on my own." 

You studied his face. His lips were pursed, eyes were looking at your cheek, not eyes, and his grip on your shoulder had noticeably stiffened. Your face scrunched in disappointment, "Why? It seems they all fit your credentials." You spat, more bitter than you intended before sighing again as silence befell the two of you. You shut your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts before opening them halfway to look down at your hands clasped together tightly, "I can't do it again, Hoseok." You muttered softly, "I'm not stupid, I know what you do in this office, but I can't do that again."

He met your eyes this time, obviously worried, "What do you mean?" His brows furrowed.

"Be the afterthought." You bit out, "I will not compete with all these women and end up…" exactly like yourself. You swallowed your last words because they would hurt the both of you too much.

"Angel, I would never-"

"Just go, okay?" You forced yourself to say, not looking at him, "It's my first day of work and we've already breached professionalism." You breathed out with your lips pursed, "I have interviews to do." You looked at Hoseok and he didn't meet your eyes as he left, dejected.

The interviews went terribly for both parties you would say. Most of these women had no experience being an Administrative LLP Assistant and if they did, they walked out on their last jobs. A lot of the women were quite kind, after noticeably sizing you up, but then you had some women who thought they could interview you as well. It was awfully reminiscent of when you first encountered Minyoung. 

By the end of the interviews, you felt like your eyes were beginning to cross as your tongue began to sting. It wasn't a real sting. This much was confirmed when your neck also began to sting and you let out a shaky breath. You stared at the excel sheet of employee evaluations and found yourself wondering if you would be able to work at home.

You shook off the very fantasy since you barely had a home to begin with. You needed to look for a place. Your heart squeezed at the thought and you put your hand on your chest. You felt stupid for wanting to leave Hoseok, but you also felt stupid for wanting to stay with a man who had such a specific and insatiable taste. 

The day dragged on and you actively avoided Hoseok when your lunch rolled around. You opted for a granola bar at your desk and it was just as indignifying as you thought it would be. Your job turned out to be mostly excel sheets and productivity reports and it wasn't until Hoseok knocked on your door that you realized it was time to go home- Hoseok's home.

The car ride was painfully and noticeably silent in the beginning. You didn't look at Hoseok and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes as the driver even looked uncomfortable. It wasn't until you realized you were at Hoseok's place that you even moved.

You dragged your feet to the door as the day's event swirled in your head. The women reminded you scarily of yourself, pining after someone who would never pine after them. Some of them were rings too and you wondered if it was because their home life was like yours had been. Had they just wanted to feel desired for once? Who are you to judge them when your ex is piecing together the life your ex-fiance destroyed. How are you any better than them with Hoseok? 

Even if you love him, it doesn't mean he loves you or doesn't plan on finding more thrilling endeavors outside of the lovely little home he keeps you at just like Sookwang had.

The bile in your throat pushed itself against you at the very thought and when Hoseok opened the door, you ran to the bathroom, hand over your mouth.

He quickly ran after you only to see you on your knees in front of the toilet as you heaved a cried. Immediately, he held back your hair as you hurled your guts, thoughts, fears, and sadness out of your body after holding them in for a day. It hadn't been the first time you've thrown up with Hoseok present, so he knew exactly how to clean you up as you cried.

However, this time, you gripped his dress shirt, surely causing wrinkles, and looked at him, "Please don't leave me." Your bottom lip quivered, "I can't, I can't be alone, I'm so sorry." You cried into his chest as he rocked you back and forth, "You're-You're all I…" You let out another sob

"I'm all you have." He mused and you nodded, "Just as you are all I have." You hiccuped and he kissed your head, "I've loved you for years, I will not be stopping, whether you like it or not." He stroked your hair as he closed your eyes.

He should kill Sookwang. He's never been so sure of himself. Hoseok clutched you closer to him as you shook violently. He should kill Sookwang for not only hurting you but for making you so distrusting of everyone, even him. The love of your life. Sookwang instead would spend his life in prison- or lack of life. It was merciful, Hoseok should rip him to shreds and let you do the same to Minyoung. However, the only thing more important than doing that was having you as his, at last.

He was all you had finally. It would remain that way.

After an hour of breathing exercises and mouthwash, you were in your bedroom. You stared up at the ceiling and yet, all you could see was Hoseok's face. You cursed yourself for this. It was like you were back in high school again. You were embarrassed by how easily you fell for him again especially after what Sookwang did. You closed your eyes and moted how warm you felt just thinking about all Hoseok has done for you. 

You weren't an idiot. You had dated him before. You knew he was terrified of a commitment then, but now, it almost seemed as if he craved it. It was a complete turnaround. It wasn't healthy. Logically, you knew that, right? You knew that this connection was obsessive on a good day, but he made you feel so safe. Your first day at work went terribly and you had just wished to go home to Hoseok's loving arms. Instead, your mind had morphed him into Sookwang.

Hoseok was the opposite, however. Sookwang had been sheltered and starved, so he settled for you as a wife and other women as a lover. Hoseok, however merely settled for one night stands in search of stability. He was loving and attentive, maybe a little too much. Even so, he hadn't brought home any women, or left your side, in the past month. He only ever seemed to look at you while you tried to assess your situation. 

You weren't ready for a relationship, you thought. But how the hell do you know what's good for you? 

Look at your past logical decisions, such as getting engaged. Maybe Hoseok knew what's best for you. Maybe you knew that wasn't healthy. Maybe you didn't care.

If you were going to regret this, you were going to have to do it first.

You sat up, letting the covers fall off your body as you ripped them off your legs. Before you could even begin to dissect your mindset, your legs carried you in front of Hoseok's door. It was already in the evening. You wondered if he was going to make dinner or leave you alone for the night. Should you not bother him? You shook your head before bringing your wrist up to knock on the door.

It had been the softest knocks Hoseok had heard in his life. His eyebrows scrunched together. Had he forgotten the cleaning lady was coming today? He could've sworn she comes Tuesday mornings?

"Come in." He nodded towards the closed door as it opened ever so cautiously.

He immediately sat up as soon as he saw it was you, "Hey, Hobi." You smiled at him shyly. 

Hoseok visibly relaxed as he gestured with a flick of his wrist for you to come near him. You walked over to his bed, "Sorry to intrude." You offered wearily, as he guided you to sit next to him, "I just…" You drew in a breath, as his arm wrapped around your waist Before I say anything, I just need to know what you want." His head tilted to the side in confusion now laying down next to his seated form and you groaned in frustration, "Do you...want me?" You forced out and it seemed he finally understood what you were trying to figure out. He leaned over you with a smile.

"I love you if that's what you're getting at." Your breath hitched at his boldness, "Don't act like you didn't know."

It was your turn to be confused as the man of your teenage and adult dreams leaned over you with a satisfied smirk, "You only said it that one time and I didn't think that you…" You avoided eye contact, "Would want used goods." 

He gripped your chin in an instant for you to see his jaw clenched and stern eyes, "I wish you could see what I see." He closed his eyes, letting his irritation diffuse as he leaned closer to you, "What no one else deserves to see." He hovered over your lips.

You were hypnotized by the passion and found yourself left with no option but to grip both sides of his face and bring him down to you. His lips connected with yours slowly at first but it quickly grew into a frenzied expression of how starved you both were to be craved by the other. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his wrapped around your waist. He moved you to where he was laid in between your legs and you gasped when his pelvis had accidentally brushed against yours. 

Hoseok broke away from the kiss for a moment, lips swollen and chest heaving, "Fuck, baby, I better go get dinner started before we end up doing something that-"

You pouted at this, causing Hoseok to immediately halt at the sight, "Hobi," You whined as you gripped his bicep, "Don't you want me?" You batted your eyelashes at him as his resolve crumbled.

"More than anything, angel." He was quick to say as he dipped his head down to place light kisses on your neck.

"So show me." You breathed and it was like something snapped in him.

He gripped your hip with a determined squeeze as his mouth opened eider to harshly suck the skin of your neck between his teeth. You groaned at the sensation, heat quickly pooling between your thighs. The hand on your hip reached up as he began to unbutton the lavender blouse. He had never touched you like this before, so when the shirt left you open, only a bra of the same color shielding you, he had to pull back to look at you for a moment. He studied every mole, freckle, or mark he could see as he slipped the shirt from your shoulders. He kissed down your stomach as he made quick work of the slacks he bought you, nearly salivating at how close he was to your clothed entrance. 

You arched your back, obedient as ever when his hands caressed your waist, sliding behind to unhook your bra. He let out a shaky breath when your top half became full bare. His hands gripped them both, softly pinching both nipples as you let out a mewl that spurred him to lean down, taking one of the buds into his mouth, tongue encircling it as your back arched again while you let out a whine. The sensation of his mouth and hands shooting straight to the area where you wanted them most. He let his teeth graze the bud before sucking and you could no longer suppress the moan that was clawing at your throat. He let the nipple go with a lewd pop as he studied your body again before moving to caress your hips and thighs. He watched the flesh squish under his touch and you squirmed a bit, "So fucking beautiful." He breathed, transfixed by your nearly bare body.

"Hobi." You whined, as his eyes wen to your heated face. Your bottom lip was caught in your teeth as your thighs shifted beneath him.

"Yes, my love?" He mused as he slid the last piece of fabric you had down your legs, watching as your pussy became exposed to him. Your breath hitched when he spread your legs as his fingers went to spread you, "Do you want me to taste you?" He hummed, mouth mere millimeters away from your opening.

You pet out a breathy moan at the anticipation, "Yes, yes, please." You huffed out only for the very breath to be stolen as his tongue dove at your sex like a man starved. 

Hoseok had never expected you to be so needy, each time his tongue moved you would whine out, wanting more and more. Never did he fine eating someone out to be so erotic as he did with his hands keeping you in place as your upper body twisted in pleasure. You would squeak when his tongue would dance around your hole, tempting him to finally plunge it in. He felt how tight you were and was instantly addicted to the feeling of you around him. He fucked you with his tongue as he let you move your hips to meet the thrusts of the muscle. He almost brought a hand to play with your clit but opted to make you cum with his mouth alone.

You had never been eaten out like this before. You could hardly keep up with Hoseok or the sensations he gave you as he entered you with his tongue. Never in your life have you felt so euphoric, the sensation sent tingles down your body and straight to your clit which he flicked with a stiffened tongue before you could even blink. A long-forgotten coil began to tighten in the pit of your stomach as he spread you as wide as you could go, his hands on your knees as he sucked on your clit, tongue still ruthless as it explored your pussy. You could hear him nearly slurp. You normally would be embarrassed, but all you could feel was what Hoseok gave you, and you wanted more. 

As if he read your mind, Hoseok began a ruthless rhythm of long-stroke that brought you closer and closer each time until you let loose with a scream of pleasure, your body shaking as you came. Hoseok placed a kiss on your clit that made your hips jump, "Hobi, fuck me." You breathed out, chest heaving as you crept down from the enormous high. The man hesitated, fully intent on letting you rest and taking care of himself in the bathroom. He was ready to tell you this until you let out another cute whine, "Please, babe, I want you to make love to me." You whined out and how could he possibly say no?

"I can't say no to you, baby, that's not fair." He spoke, eyes lidded as he stripped himself at lighting speed, moving his length along your slit as he groaned lowly at the contact. When he pressed the head against your entrance and you moaned lightly he nearly blew his load. By the time he slid all the way in, he had to take a moment to collect his thoughts. He looked down at you, eyes barely open and mouth panting. He then watched himself as he slid slowly in and out, his hardened member eventually all the way in your tight walls, "You're so beautiful." He groaned as he set a slow pace, "I love you so much." He leant down to kiss you as he fucked you gently and when you moaned into his mouth he couldn't help but speed up.

"Hobi." You moaned out sweetly for him as he fucked you, "Feels so good." You gasped out as your hands went to press him closer to you as he ground deeper into, more desperate. You could feel the bed shaking as he sped up more and more, calculated thrusts now becoming sloppy as you could feel another orgasm on the edge of breaking free.

He could tell you were close to as you squeezed him, "You gonna cum again for me, angel?" You gasped, nearly squealing as you squeezed around him, cumming hard enough to send him over the edge, "Fuck, fuck!" He moaned in pure ecstasy as he came inside of you, riding out the highs you both shared.

"I love you." You mumbled through tired lips pressed against his ears. He slowly slid out of you and that's as far as you remember before passing out.

You woke up with soft lips against your shoulder as the early morning peeked through the curtains. Your eyes slowly opened as they flicked around to find Hoseok in your peripherals, "Oh, you're awake." He mumbled, mouth still trailing over your bare skin.

"Mmph." You murmured, turning over, "Good morning." You placed a lazy kiss on his toned chest as you nuzzled into him.

The sleepy chuckle he let out vibrated in his chest, "What do you say we work from home today, hm?" 

Your eyes snapped open immediately as you shot up, "Work! I forgot!" You exclaimed as your eyes darted across the room looking for a clock, "I can't just not come in on my second day I-"

"Baby-"

"I must look like such a slacker! I can't believe I-"

"Angel, I-"

"How did I not set my alarms before I just went to sleep all willy nilly?! It's mmph-" Soft lips landed on your own as you melted into the kiss in spite of your moment of panic. His lips massaged yours until he felt your naked form relax on his own. 

This was all he needed. He was all you needed. This moment was the epitome of what it meant to be reborn in the arms of someone else. It was always meant to be this way. He was an idiot for thinking you were anything less than his soulmate. He was a fool for looking for comfort when he should've been looking for you all these years.

Once he felt your body fully depend on him, he broke the kiss ever so slowly, "It's 6:00am." He mumbled against your mouth, "I'm offering to have us both work from home today, so I can let the office know I will be conducting your orientation off-site." The smirk that twinkled on the corner of his mouth did not go unnoticed by you before you nodded. 

You watched with twinkling eyes as Hoseok made the call. You laid your head on his bare chest as you heard the rumble of his deep voice making orders to accommodate for his absence, "Hobi," You murmured when he hung up the phone, "Were you ever expecting to see me again?"

The hand he had stroking your hair faltered as his heart sank at the mention of the past. He was an idiot to be scared enough to ruin things with you. He was a fool to deny himself the bliss of loving you back, "No, not at first." He spoke honestly, "But I missed you every day." You smiled at this while he stroked your hair, "Something was missing in my life, and I tried to find it in other women when I was too scared to look for you."

"Oh, I hated you so much." You stifled a laugh.

"You said you could never!" Hoseok huffed as you leaned your head up to look at his pouting face.

"Not real hate, babe." You smiled softly, "I mean heartbreak hate." You mused, "I never wanted to see you again, but I never stopped wondering about you, and when I moved to South Korea, and especially when I was with… you know, I let my mind wander to how we could've been." 

"Well, it's me and you now and forever, angel." He placed a kiss on your forehead, "Nothing will ever come between us again, not even ourselves." Hoseok spoke with determination you were smart enough to know the implications of. Not that you had plans to ever leave, but even if you had they would be for naught. You knew his power. You were sure he only scratched the surface with Sookwang. It should scare you.

"I know you won't let it, even if anything tried." You breathed, blissful as he pulled you in for a passionate kiss. It wasn't healthy how he thrilled you. How much you loved being so secure in his arms, even if he was also securing you within his clutches. Chains or not, they were much too comfortable for you to object. You had the autonomy you wanted. You had everything you needed at the snap of a finer. Sookwang gave you hell and Hoseok led you to the pearly gates.

You weren't dumb enough to overlook the resounding clink as you were locked in heaven with the man you loved. 

The very man who finally loved you back.

Ko-fi

Masterlist

[craftypeaceturtle]

Folk Stories

Summary: Hakoda has been rescued from Boiling Rock and now has joined the little family his children have created. What a better way to warm everyone up than to tell a folk story he heard while he was in the prison?

Note: This is my first ATLA fic so feedback is crucial!!! I tried to get a grasp on the culture presented in the show but I’m not entirely sure I got everything. So please feel free to give feedback!!! A bog standard Gaang finds out about the scar fic!

Slight discussion around child abuse, no depiction but still be careful. 

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Arriving at the Western Air Temple was bizarre. That was the only way to describe it. The air was chilling with a constant gust. It felt somehow both fresh but also deadened. Like it wasn’t a new wind but rather the same old air forever cycling through the walls. The Temple itself was crumbling to pieces. The place felt… haunted. Not that that was a very sensitive thing to say. But despite the eight children running about and claiming it as home for a couple of weeks now, the place just felt wrong. Like it was wrong to even be standing here. He couldn’t imagine what Aang felt. Maybe it only felt so bizarre because it was the exact opposite of the modern spacious war ship with his very hyperactive chatty son who remained glued to his side.

Not that Hakoda could really complain. Sokka walked away once halfway through to relieve himself and he felt like he had lost a limb.

He walked off the ship as casually as he could and stiffly walked forward to the rest of the group. Immediately, he was knocked over with Katara. He tried to laugh it off but he clutched her just as tight. It still felt weird to be able to stand and hug her rather than ducking down. Her hair was wildly wispy over his face. She smelled of the campfire smoke that was cracking nearby. That was what was probably bringing tears to his eyes. After a heartful clinging hug, he finally noticed the rest of them looking at him. Right. Other people. He sat down with a welcoming smile and beckoned them all. They all sat and chatted.

 What was made instantly clear was that all these kids were close. Like family close. Really, he should’ve saw this coming. Like when he tried to subtly ask Sokka on the warship if he was really sure he wanted to hang out with someone like Zuko and he was immediately met with a stern lecture. It almost made him laugh. His kids had the bad habit of just seeing a potential friend and deciding they would defend them to their deaths. Must have got that from their mother… probably.

 He didn’t really mean to but he was so glad he was taking the time to sit with them all. While it did feel a little awkward, it made his chest glow to finally have the chance to actually know who his kids were hanging out with.  

 Toph seemed a lot, honestly. She was firm and extremely confident in her actions and morals. Which sounds like the exact thing the group needed. A firmer hand to guide them to their goal. Someone to help point Sokka’s genius. Someone to stop Katara and Aang from getting too emotional and getting them out of bad situations. Only problem was that she was a twelve-year-old girl. Her confidence in her actions was her being absolutely certain that punching was definitely an affectionate gesture and that crime should be allowed if it’s fun. But Hakoda found himself laughing along with her so he couldn’t complain much.

Haru seemed the closest thing to an actual responsible adult the group had. But he was very quiet. Very polite. But he seemed content to live his own life and try to get back to some form of normal. He was willing to fight and help the group survive but it was clear he was never going to be involved in helping Aang defeat the Firelord. Maybe that’s a good thing. Destiny wasn’t something he tried to understand but it was obvious that Aang should be the one alone to face him.

The Duke was a child. He was very fun to joke with but then again, every now and then, he would say something make it clear he was a child who had seen the very worse parts of war. He was a child who had never experienced a moment of childhood. His heart hurt for him, but he wasn’t an idiot to say that out loud.

Teo seemed so bright and cheerful compared to the deadened temple. Even compared to his usually bright loud kids. They were so stupidly excited at his arrival, but they still seemed dimmed in comparison to the little boy who was zipping about the place and chattering about potential inventions. He seemed like Sokka but younger.

Zuko… was also a lot. He was biased against him, so it was hard to judge an opinion. Zuko was mostly silent. Sokka would occasionally joke with him and force him into the conversation and Zuko seemed like any other average awkward teenager. But mostly the others let him keep quiet and he focused on what looked like some form of meditating at the campfire.

 It was getting late. But no one dared stated this. Zuko only let the fire burn brighter or occasionally forced Aang to make the fire larger to light the room as a form of practise. Katara stood up at one point, “I’m grabbing my blanket, I’m getting cold. Does anyone else what theirs now I’m up?”

“Ooh! Me!” Aang whipped round with a sleepily excited smile.

“I’m good,” Sokka and everyone else mumbled without even turning, “So, dad, did you hear anything around the prison?”

“Hear anything?” Hakoda chuckled off but everyone turned serious. Sokka sighed and awkwardly fiddled his hands.

“Uh I mean any Fire Nation gossip? Any Firelord plans or propaganda? Anything that could help…”

Hakoda tried chuckling again but Zuko remained completely focused on the campfire. His chest slowly expanding with the flames. He didn’t even flinch. Maybe he could believe that Zuko truly wanted to help them but there was no way he’d appreciate the tiny whispers he heard about his nation. “I didn’t hear anything really useful. I heard some folk stories and a lot of twisted propaganda.”

“Hey, I’m still up for some Fire Nation camp stories!” Toph shrugged. Katara had now returned and flung Aang his blanket and draped another on Zuko’s shoulders. He finally opened his eyes and awkwardly nodded at her. Katara also stiltedly nodded back.

“It’s not a nice story…” Hakoda tried very much to hint as he looked directly at The Duke. Thankfully Haru took his hint.

“That’s fair, we should be heading to bed anyway. I’m exhausted!” He stood and pulled a half sleeping The Duke up as well. They all waved them goodnight. Their footsteps echoed across the empty stone hall as they disappeared into a room.

 “Right. Now the babies are gone. Tell us the Fire Nation horror stories!” Toph chanted way too loudly for how late it was.

“It’s not a very happy story but I guess a story is a story,” Hakoda sighed. Being honest, while it wasn’t nice, it also didn’t sound at all real. But at least it would be a good way to wind down the emotional day.

 “There’s this story about the Firelord and his sons. The younger son had grown jealous of his older sibling learning how to become a rightful heir to the nation.” Hakoda began, despite the fact he couldn’t really recall if it was the older or younger son. It made more sense if it was the younger son. But everyone was immediately clinging to his words. So, he continued, “Eventually he begged his father to attend an important meeting to gain experience and prove he could be responsible. The Firelord, well… the guard who told this story worded it that the Firelord was so gracious and kind to allow his son into the meeting but obviously… That doesn’t seem right.”

“The Firelord let him into the meeting despite knowing his son was not ready. The younger son was very immature and spoiled. He was rude to everyone, even the fellow royals…. That was something that I found odd. The guard worded it as fellow royals rather than family...”

“Hmm,” Zuko spoke, striking lightning through the atmosphere with just that hum. Hakoda now felt awkward. While it was clear the folk story wasn’t talking about his father, how wise was it truly to retell a story based on his family. “The Fire Nation places significance in respecting your elders but there’s also significance in following your own determination.”

“What, so you don’t care for your family,” Katara frowned.

“No… Respecting and bringing pride to your elders is a huge deal but… honestly, I think the Fire Lord wanted to still get people to report any rebelling ideals that family members might have. It’s… complicated.”

“Well, either way the son was a pain in the ass by the sounds of it and he was let into the meeting under the one rule, not to talk out of order. He explained that the councillors were sensitive and easy to anger and wanted to protect his son from harm. Of course, the son then immediately talks over a general in the meeting to suggest his own plan despite having no experience and no idea of the politics.”

 At this, Zuko now frowned. Hakoda spoke slowly, fully expecting to be interrupted (maybe Zuko had heard this as well and he was telling it wrong), but he didn’t say a word. He just merely tensed his shoulders and stayed sat, frowning intensely.

 “The general was furious and the Firelord tried to calm him, but he knew there was no way words would be enough to stop this. A duel was ordered. The son agreed without pausing to think this through. The Firelord tried to explain what would happen but the son brushed him off and interrupted him from explaining what would happen. The day of the duel arrived and the son stood to face his opponent only to find his father, the Firelord, at the other side of the court.”

 Zuko’s eyes opened now. But he was now frozen facing the campfire. Hakoda paused again to let him talk but he said nothing.

 “The son then proceeded to beg for mercy. But the Firelord had enough. The son was greedy, stupid and lazy. And now here he was begging after proposing an aggressive military strategy over an experienced military general. He offered to explain how the duel would work and protect him from it but he ignored him. The Firelord then gave him a chance to fight before declaring that the son was no longer part of the royal family for his disgrace. To try and teach his son one last lesson, the Firelord battled the duel to try and teach him how to fight. But the son didn’t even try, didn’t even stand up to face him. The son walked away that day with a hardy battle scar and no family.”

 The silence in the temple felt like a presence around the campfire as well.

“Well!” Toph leaned back, “You were right. That was kinda a downer.”

“Yeah…” Aang mumbled.

“I think the point of the story is how forgiving and firm the Firelord is and how amazing he must be,” Hakoda grimaced, “But all who overheard it just thought it was more proof that the Firelord and his whole family are evil.”

“Who was it even based off?” Sokka asked.

“Two sons so maybe Firelord Azulon? But didn’t uncle Iroh leave by himself. Like he wasn’t kicked out or anything, was he?” Toph tilted her head to Zuko but he never reacted.

“Zuko?” Aang placed his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. He shot up. Like he was electrocuted.

“I am needing to go to bed.” Zuko scampered backwards. His eyes stuck on the flames. Sokka stood as well but he hovered awkwardly.

“Are you sure? Was it the story-“ Sokka tried to ask but he was immediately ignored. Zuko walked off to his room.

 But he turned just as he was about to disappear from their view, “You should never repeat that story. It’s… not good.”

 The night was just as awkward as the temple after that. A moment silently passed.

 “Maybe we should all call it a night. It’s certainly been an emotional day,” Teo explained, tilting his chair towards the rooms behind where they were all sitting. Everyone agreed and stood as well. Aang was the last to stand and took a couple of breaths before finally manipulating the campfire to fizzle out completely.

“I’ll stand guard first,” Aang said, facing away from them.

“I’ll take over for the morning half,” Sokka volunteered. Hakoda walked away with the others.

 The morning was a little better. If there was one more thing Hakoda could criticise the temple of, it was the fact that there was no way the sun could reach them on the underside of a cliff. He woke up and stretched his back, wincing at the horrible click, and stood and walked out of the room. Toph and Katara were half-heartedly arguing about how to cut some vegetables. He smiled at the quiet normalcy. You never realise how much you miss normal life until you hear people arguing about veg rather than battle strategies. “Morning everyone. The others still sleeping?”

“Hey dad! Aang is practising with Zuko, the others usually all crowd round to watch,” Katara answered, “Feel free to go watch too. It might be another twenty minutes or so for breakfast.”

“I’d go if I was you,” Toph interrupted, “It is so cool to see firebending up close without being in actual danger. And if you ever tell Sparky that then I’ll attack Sokka.”

“Yeah?” Hakoda asked, quietly ignoring the threat to his son.

“Oh yeah. The fire and the colours. It’s just mesmorising. A real sight to behold.”

“Toph,” Katara scolded and now Hakoda felt his face heat up. Right, she was joking. She was blind. “But she is right. It is impressive to see.”

 After bothering Katara by asking if she needs any help, Hakoda followed the sounds of blasts of fires to a courtyard like space. Aang was standing proudly in the middle, his chest puffed out powerfully as he took deep even breaths. His arms twirled around, almost like waterbending, with a solid stance and footing, like earthbending, with powerful flames licking along his movements. Sweeps of orange. Katara really wasn’t joking. He stopped dead in his tracks.

 Zuko was standing to the side with his fingers tapping along his chin. Aang finished whatever exercise he was doing and looked over with the proudest most childish grin ever. Hakoda found himself grinning too. Zuko stood slowly. To Hakoda, it looked flawless.

 “How’d I do Sifu!” Aang chirped.

“Your fire is steady and strong. But I really do think you need to stop puffing out your chest like that and actually breathe normally. You don’t have to puff out like an aggressive pig-chicken. Just… breathe normally! You don’t need to complete the kata strictly chest first.”

“But you said the power should come from my chest!” Aang whined.

“Yes and ever since saying that you only moved chest first! You look stupid! Like a pig-chicken!” Zuko burst out.

“But my firebending is good enough! So it doesn’t even matter!”

“Yeah Zuko, you never know, maybe his stance will throw off the Firelord,” Sokka laughed despite Aang withering glare. Zuko only sighed and approached the middle of the courtyard and quickly snapped to another stance.

“Careful Aang, you’re starting to sound like the son in Hakoda’s story. Zuko knows best. You can’t talk over him!” The Duke yelled over with a point.

 Now it felt like the atmosphere was ruined. Aang snapped to face the boy. Zuko stumbled but stepped back into position hesitatingly.

  “Uh, the Duke, h-how’d you even overhear any of that?”

“Because Haru couldn’t be more obvious if he tried!” The Duke gasped, “It wasn’t even that bad. Like what was the scary part? The scar? He didn’t even explain what it looked like!”

“The story wasn’t even accurate. Let’s move on,” Zuko snapped.

“What? He didn’t tell it properly? Well, what is it actually?” The Duke asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Zuko shouted, his voice echoed along the walls. Hakoda finally walked forward, approaching Sokka.

“Everything okay here guys?” Hakoda put on his best dad voice and walked forward confidently. Only Sokka looked at him though.

“Why? It’s just some stupid Fire Nation story! What? You offended, Ashmaker!” The Duke screamed.

“Woah, okay now!” Hakoda raised his voice louder.

“Because it’s not some folk story. It was a real thing! You can’t just say shit like that casually!” Zuko didn’t bare Hakoda and his obvious dad attempt at taking control any attention.

“Oh boo hoo! One of your precious Fire Lords once beat up his own son to prove some stupid point! Oh no, your family is filled with abusive dicks!” Haru was now even trying to pull The Duke aside as Hakoda walked to Zuko. He placed his hands firmly on his shoulders and steered him away.

 He didn’t shout anything else but he did unleash a roar of fire before stomping just ahead of him. Sokka and Aang took one moment to swap looks before both running after Zuko. Not that he was paying any attention. Hakoda awkwardly paused, unsure which room to led Zuko to so he could obviously let out some steam, but thankfully Sokka caught up to them and led the way down the hall to the right, into the first room they found.

 It was barren and already had blackened scorches across the walls and ceilings. Hakoda didn’t at all focus on that though. Maybe they were old or maybe it was from some previous Zuko tantrums.

Zuko punched the wall with all the might of his firebending. Sokka and Aang only winced at how obviously painful that was going to be but didn’t seem at all afraid of him. So Hakoda tried to follow their lead despite his racing heart.

 “Everything okay, Sifu Hotman?” Aang joked but he toned himself down. He was only slightly a ball of blinding sunshine of happiness. Zuko tried to match his smile but it was too wobbly and fragile.

“Sorry. That story hit close to home.”

“We figured. If you want to talk about it, do you know what upset you about it?” Sokka knelt down and crossed his legs. They all followed, including Hakoda. One tiny whisper frowned at how much he was following his son’s lead. He remembered trying to convince a baby Sokka not to charge out of the tent completely naked and failing miserably as his son gave an impassioned speech about how it’ll be fun. It was that same boy that he was now following. Zuko fell to the floor deliberately harshly.

“I… I guess I hate- I don’t like what you all took from the story…” He stumbled through. Hakoda went to talk but Sokka placed a hand on his knee. A moment passed and Zuko finally found some more words, “You all took that the Fire Lord was cruel to do that. And you don’t even know the full story. Like, just the Fire Lord fighting his son was enough to mark him cruel. Even if the son was ‘a pain in the ass’?”

“Yeah,” Aang spoke unsurely but he continued saying each word carefully, “I mean, we don’t know a lot of the details about the son but I personally can’t think of any reason where I’d then fight my own son. Especially if he was a child or something!”

“Yeah, like if your son’s dismissive or rude or whatever, then you make more effort to talk to him! What would fighting him even do? It’s just more cruel than what’s needed.” Zuko looked up at Sokka as he spoke.

“It is cruel, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question but Hakoda tilted his head and answered, “Of course it’s cruel. I can’t imagine people hearing that and thinking the Fire Lord was in the right. As a certified dad, I don’t think there’s anything that could push me to fight Sokka. I can’t speak for the guards but… I think the reason the folk story didn’t go into any detail about the fight was so it’s easier to agree with the Fire Lord. I’m sure if the injuries were described then the guards would speak differently.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m honestly surprised the story didn’t go into any detail about the fight. That’s the most infamous part…”

“So what’s the actual story?” Sokka asked.

 Zuko looked around nervously and bit harshly on his thumb.

 “There… The son of the Fire Lord wanted to prove himself and attend a war meeting. The Fire Lord’s brother let him in but warned him that he shouldn’t talk. The generals were easy to anger. In the meeting, a general proposed the most… it was an awful plan. I uh… The son got too angry and shouted at the meeting. It was really disrespectful. It was an awful plan but, like, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad if he just spoke normally. Or maybe his uncle would’ve spoken out anyway. A-anyway, an Agni Kai was ordered. T-that’s like a duel between two firebenders, usually it ends with either one of the people surrendering or getting injured to the point of being unable to fight. The son thought he was to fight the old general who proposed the plan. And really the plan was horrible. It was awful. So he went to fight him as I could so take him in a fight!”

 Sokka and Aang shared an uncertain look. That all seemed to align… But it was clear that this was hitting too close to Zuko. He was refusing to look at them as he spoke. His anger flared again and each word was practically growled out.

 “So the day of the fight came and the boy turned to face his opponent and instead saw father down the court. I… uh… I then fell to my knees and begged. I knew there was no use fighting. I’m not a very talented firebender, even less so at thirteen! So I thought the best thing would be to just… surrender. The Firelord usually prefers if you just surrender and admit your wrong than to fight. He liked when you made him feel… anyway I… well I fell to the floor and begged while crying. I-I can’t imagine what that must’ve looked like to the audience-“

“Wait, there were people watching!” Sokka exclaimed. Hakoda only then remembered the rest of the room. The story was too cold for him to notice anything else. Aang looked just as horrified, shifting on the spot clearly dying to launch himself at Zuko as a comfort. Zuko looked just as caught off.

“Um yeah? Like nobles and the other royal family members.”

“So Uncle was there?” Aang’s timid small voice ripped through the angry shocked words.

“Well yes. Also, he’s not your uncle!”

“He didn’t do anything?”

“No. I don’t think he could’ve.” Zuko fiddled with his hands.

 There was a beat of silence.

 “So your dad beat you up in front of everyone and then banished you? You were upset because we all saw that as cruel while you blamed yourself for that,” Sokka started strong before then realising just how insensitive he was being. Way to rub it in his face.

“He didn’t beat me up. He just burnt me,” Zuko casually motioned his to warped face and perpetually squinting eye to which everyone else in the room stopped breathing, “but yeah he then banished me. I-I… It’s… Three years is a long time to pass. I don’t really remember pretty much anything from that day really. Uncle never talked about it so I don’t know exactly what happened. I thought I got over it by now. I know it was cruel. It was wrong. But… I guess I just thought that was me making excuses… It’s weird to think other people actually think it’s wrong and cruel.”

 The dead air of the temple never felt more gross. Like a panting stranger leaning over your shoulder leering over you. A presence in the room listening in. The room looked empty even with them all sitting there. The story somehow filled the room and now it was finished. Hakoda gulped.

 “I’m so sorry Zuko,” Aang breathed out before gradually reaching over. Zuko blocked his hands from hugging him but did grip his hands instead.

“No dad should ever do that Zuko. And a journey into recovery will never have a nice easy end. But if you already know it was wrong then you’ve already made it so far. You should be proud of yourself,” Hakoda smiled warmly. Zuko still didn’t meet his eyes.

 It would probably be a while before Zuko would truly believe that it was cruel and wrong, and clearly the entire family here was willing to wait and teach that. Hakoda kept his mind from thinking how long it took for Zuko to even convince himself that maybe it was cruel and wrong. Right now, he focused on the warm, forgiving, loving family formed in the ruins of a cold temple.

[sweetiepie08]

Rebel Z (Chapter 10 Final)

nvader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. 

Thank you for reading! I do plan to continue the story in a sequel fic, but I may take a short hiatus first. I hope you enjoyed this!

Be on the lookout for the next book in the series, RevolutionZ! In which Zim and Tak attempt to join the Resisty and gain new companions! Dib fills his gap year by joining an alien rebellion! Gaz gets dragged in too! And what happened to Zim in Death Melee is explained! 

However, I will most likely only be posting links to Ao3 than full chapters to Tumblr. Again, Thank you everyone for reading!

[-]

“So, what exactly the fuck was all that stuff with the punch about?” Dib asked once they were a comfortable distance away form the Massive.

Zim glared straight ahead at the stars. “It’s nothing that concerns you, human.”

“Bullshit!” Dib slammed his hand down on the control panel. “Your little stunt could have gotten us killed. Out with it!”

Zim gritted his teeth and gripped the steering mechanism until his knuckles quaked. Dib braced himself for the inevitable screaming denial. Instead, Zim let out a pained sigh. “Fine, if you must know, I figured out three Urth years ago that my mission was a sham and my leaders were trying to have me killed, so I took revenge. Happy?”

“We know all that,” Tak snapped. “And anyway, I told you your mission was a lie a long time ago. What I want to know is how you managed to betray the Tallest without your treasonous thoughts setting of your life clock.”

“Yeah, and who’s Spek?” Dib added.

“You wish to hear Zim’s tale of woe?” He clenched his fist and heaved out another sigh. “Fine. Three Urth years ago, the Tallest contacted me, telling me they selected me to participate in Death Melee, an inter-galactic event that all would be watching.”

“The one where they throw criminals on a planet together to fight to the death?” Tak deadpanned. “That was your first clue?”

“They told me the rules had changed and it was now a contest of elite warriors. For my partner, they gave me a Spek, a smeet just shy of his cadet years. He hadn’t even seen his first cycle yet…” Zim’s fists shook as he cut himself off.

“Since you’re still alive, I’m assuming you won,” Dib said.

“Yes, but…” his gaze fell to the floor. “Yes. Anyway, throughout the Melee, it became clear to me that the Tallest lied. This was still a game for criminals, but Spek…” Zim narrowed his haunted eyes, “he was only there to lessen my chances.”

Dib watched, mesmerized. He thought he’d seen the many moods of Zim. He’d seen everything from proud boasting, to spiteful rage, to pathetic schmooping. But this, this was something else entirely, something he never expected to see from the alien. True remorse.  

“On my journey back to Urth,” he continued, “I had too much time to think and when made it back to m base, I was done with all of it.” Rage grew in his voice with every word. “I knew they lied. I knew they’d been lying. For a moment, I thought, if they didn’t want my genius, maybe someone else would. And that thought was enough to set off my life clock. Instead of simply ripping out my feedback chip, I infected it with a virus that sends the Control Brains a loop of my Urth memories, preventing it from receiving new thoughts and experiences.” A bitter, satisfied smile came to his face. “As far as I can tell, it hadn’t noticed anything was off until now.”

“And the machines I saw you building?” Dib pressed.

Zim drew himself up. “I have a contract with the Resisity. I build them machines, they appreciate my genius and send me monies.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing for three years?” Dib asked, voice sripping with skepticism.

Zim nodded and said nothing more.

Dib stared at him, trying to get a read on this whole tale. He wasn’t sure what to believe. Zim’s reason for existence seamed to be pleasing his Tallest. The little green monster talked of nothing else since arriving on Urth. He couldn’t imagine Zim wanting anything else and he’d fallen for the schmoopy act before. But this was not schmoop. It was too subtle, too quiet. And that betrayal of his Tallest couldn’t be denied. Something had truly changed.

Dib looked to Tak to gauge her opinion, but her face revealed nothing except careful calculation.

“I’d heard the Resisty had been growing and gaining power,” she mused. “New technology granted them upsetting victories and made them more of a problem than they once were. They could be the key. We need to fight if we ever want a chance of defeating the Control Brains and freeing our people, and for that, we’ll need an army. With your connection and my information, we could pose a real threat to the Empire.”

Dib expected Zim to launch into another tirade about how he wasn’t in it for the politics. That this was all a personal mission and he had no interest in going rogue. That did not happen.

Instead, Zim said nothing for a long time. He simply stared through the windshield in tense silence. But then, a grin grew slowly on his face. “I’m in.”

[-]

When they made it back to Earth, they found that Gaz made use of MiMi and Mini Mouse as gaming companions, Dad bought her excuse that Dib was hanging out at Zim’s house, and that he hadn’t even stopped home long enough to notice the two additional robots in the living room.

Dib went straight to his room and laid out all of his recording devices. He had the notes he took the night Zim and Tak rambled drunkenly on the couch. He had the audio recording of the old man Irken that he couldn’t wait to translate. And he had the spy camera he’d been wearing to capture the whole experience. He never got so much undeniable proof on one mission before, and no one, to his knowledge, had this much evidence of this quality ever. He’d be king of the Swollen Eyeball network if he showed even a fraction of…

His eyes drifted to the Swollen Eyeball emblem pinned to his bulletin board and he let out a sigh. The Swollen Eyeball… what a joke. They’d been reduced to a bunch of anti-science conspiracy nuts. The organization became a competition to see who could shout their wildest theory the loudest. What were they compared to a real evil alien empire, a real soul-sucking, Lovecraftian horror, and a real space alien rebellion?

No. This was bigger than some crack-pot conspiracy group. This rebellion universe-shattering consequences. And he was going to be part of it.

[-]

Out in his ship, Zim stared at his PAK connector with warry eyes. He wasn’t sure what held him back now. His stunt on the Massive already solidified his traitor status, but this felt different, more official. It was one thing to enact vengeance on those who betrayed him. It was quite another to completely detach himself from society.

He’d been unwaveringly loyal to the Empire since his conception, but they didn’t want him. He’d seen that years ago. So what was he waiting for?

He disconnected the PAK from his back and ignored the lifeclock in the corner of his eye as he plugged it in. He opened the hatch, clicked a pair of tweezers in his fingers, then reached them toward his feedback chip.

At a light tug, his computer’s voice gave an automated warning.

You are attempting to remove the feedback chip. Doing so is an act of treason against the Irken Empire. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Zim closed his eyes and pulled the chip free.

[-]

Tak’s footsteps echoed as she walked across the concrete garage floor. MiMi’s metallic feet clacked beside her. Apart from that, the room was silent. She was used to silence. One grows accustomed to it when traveling alone through space. But these last few days had been anything but. And with Zim as her dubious ally, silent moments like this were certain to be few and far between.

And yet, this moment, she felt the need to fill it with something.

She popped open the windshield of her ship and hopped inside. “MiMi, my disc please.” Mimi reached into her head and took out the Urth data storage disc. Zim wasn’t the only one with a secret stash.

Tak took the disc from Mimi and placed it in a tray on the ship’s control panel. “Ship, track six please.” As she hopped out, music began to play. Smooth, jazzy horns filled the air and the singer began crooning.

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky. Maybe this time he’ll stay…

The song was from an Urth performance art piece. The vocalist sang about some male mate. That part didn’t interest Tak in the slightest. Still, there was something about it...

Not a loser anymore, like the last time and the time before…

The song continued to play as Tak opened the engine access panel and began her work. While manipulating the many gears and wires, she found a few interesting repair methods that the human implemented over the years. Many employed the use of an Urth bonding strip called “duct tape”, which she had to admit came in handy. The human didn’t do a bad job, even if it was pretty slap-dash.

All the odds are in my favor, something’s bound to begin…

She finally untangled a mess of wires and reconnected them.

It’s gotta happen, happen sometime…

She fused together the final wire and the ship hummed to life. Fuel Regulation Systems online.

Tak smiled, “Okay Mimi, looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.” She ducked back into the access panel as the song his its crescendo.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

[thegirlfromoverthepond]

Fire Is Catching

Once upon a time, I decided to join the list of contributors for @fandomforoz​. The ever generous @justajjfan​ made me the honor to “buy” a story from me.

At her request, here is Everlark in Paris, with a bit of museum, and a bit of fire.

This fic would be nothing without the help I got from @xerxia31​ for her awesome beta skills as well as for her help with the image :) Thank you my friend for making everything better.

Katniss was late.

Katniss was never late. 

It had become their weekly Monday routine, to meet in the Grande Galerie. Peeta would show her a painting, or a piece of art he particularly liked, or she would take him to the hidden places of the Louvre only a few people knew. She had the keys to all the rooms, knew all the secret stairs, her nightly routine taking her throughout the whole museum.

She was one of the firefighters whose place of work was the most beautiful museum in the world, yet she had almost no knowledge of art.

She had laughed at the Joconde, wondering aloud why people would line up to take a picture with her.

“Look at her,” she had told him. “She isn’t even beautiful. Why do people make such a fuss about her ?”

Peeta had moved towards the painting. It was such a privilege to be able to approach such a masterpiece so closely, without anyone around.

“For today’s tastes, she’s not special. But for Italian Renaissance she was everything. The thing is, it’s all in the eyes and the smile. If you look at her while moving, it’s like she follows you. Try it, Katniss.”

He had smiled when he had seen Katniss cautiously walking around the painting, staring at Mona Lisa, while he could see the astonishment in her features. 

“And if you look at her, you’ll see her mouth will fall and turn from a smiling face to a sad one.”

To this day, Peeta still remembered how Katniss’s face had shifted from disbelief to admiration, from curiosity to understanding.

The memory brought him back to reality. Katniss was late. He hoped everything was okay, that the strange sensation he was currently feeling in his stomach was nothing to be worried about.

Yet…

The sound of the sirens brought him to the large, beautiful windows. On the street, dozens of fire trucks were speeding towards the Pont-Neuf with their lights flashing. A few seconds later, another convoy of trucks passed by, again at full speed, heading in the same direction.

Something was going on. Something bad.

He tried not to think of the last time he had seen so many fire trucks, but he took his phone out anyways. He needed to know.

The news had already made the headlines.

Notre Dame is on fire.

Five little words that took the wind out of him.

Peeta had to reread the short sentence several times to be certain he understood it.

Notre Dame, the masterpiece of all cathedrals, the most elegant building of all of the city of light was on fire.

He felt his knees starting to buckle under him, had to lean onto the wall to support himself.

Notre Dame was on fire.

A treasure born in the 12th century, proof of the genius of the men who built it, a splendid building with treasures inside, with unparalleled elegance and grace.

Notre Dame was on fire.

Peeta read that firefighters from all over Paris and the suburbs had been called to join the fight, to try to save the building, the treasures, the stained glass.

The stained glass he wanted to show Katniss one day.

Katniss … As her name entered his mind, he realized what had happened.

With trembling hands, he dialled the internal number nobody ever wanted to use. The one that would reach the team of firefighters of the Louvre.

“Thresh.”

 “Hey Thresh, it’s Peeta, Peeta Mellark, from the -”

“The guys from the paintings, I know you. Sorry but Katniss isn’t here tonight.”

“How do - “ Peeta started before realizing with the amount of cameras in the museum, their private visits maybe weren’t that private.

“She’s at the fire. She volunteered.” Thresh answered the question Peeta hadn’t dared ask.

Peeta closed his eyes.

Of course she had volunteered to go. He hung up, not caring anymore what Thresh had to say. Surely something like ‘it would be too dangerous to go’, or that she wouldn’t be able to see or answer him anyway.

The words were lost in a haze. 

Peeta ran through the corridors of the museum, for once never stopping to look at the paintings lining the majestic walls, not even taking the time to stop by his office to grab his jacket.

He had walked the Rue de Rivoli so many times, looking at the lovely shape of the windows, the imposing stature of the former kings’ palace, or taking a detour through the Place Vendome, savouring the pleasure of the architecture. This day, though, he ran the whole length of the so long street, ignoring the other pedestrians, running until he reached the Place de la Concorde.

That’s where he spotted the column of smoke for the first time.

From behind the two towers of the building, elegant against the blue sky as always, a dark cloud of smoke was rising, threatening the wooden spire.

Peeta stopped, his breath taken away by the sad sight in front of him. 

Something deeper, though, made him start running again. A litany, in his head. Katniss is there, she’s at the fire. Katniss is there, she’s at the fire playing in loop, over and over, with the rhythm of his feet on the pavement.

He couldn’t tell how he managed to get so close to the building, despite the amount of people who rallied towards the cathedral, so close he could almost touch the fire trucks. Yet, instead of looking at the cathedral, he could only focus on the men and women working with their heavy PPE, focusing on the small ones, so he could try to spot who he was looking for. Katniss.

As the day melted into the night, as the spire of the cathedral fell, as people on the perimeter sang, Peeta grew worried.

There were just too many things. 

Too many flames licking the heavy stones of the cathedral. 

Too many columns of smoke escaping through the stained glass or the open arches of the building.

Too many litres of water that seemed to do nothing to extinguish the fire.

Too many people rushing around, carrying the heavy material, doing their best to save the cultural heritage of the building.

Peeta never thought that one day he would see stone burning. Never thought it would be possible.

He never stopped looking for Katniss whenever he caught sight of a slender frame.

There were just so many firefighters, so many of them running around, connecting fire hoses to the trucks, or to the boats that were pumping water directly from the Seine. 

He finally caught sight of her, when she took her helmet off, her braid falling down on her fire jacket, black against red.

He could see the exhaustion radiating off of her when she sat down on the pavement, her head hanging between her hands, shoulders slumped. 

“Katniss!” he shouted, hoping his voice would carry over the wind, over the noise of the sirens, over the crowd chanting hallelujahs and ave marias. He thought he saw her turn her head towards him, before she turned back to the tall and lanky man in front of her. It was only a matter of seconds before she was back on her feet, hauling her equipment on her back, as if she were getting ready to dive back into the fire.

She was walking towards the entrance of the cathedral.

“NOOOOOO”

He couldn’t let her go there, couldn’t let her enter a building on fire - yet he wasn’t able to cross the barriers and the policemen blocking the access.

There was nothing he could do. 

Nothing.

He felt what heartbreak meant that instant. His soul was torn, his body ached to be close to her.

He had no idea his feelings for her were so strong. So pure. So deep.

He had no idea he even had feelings for her, prior to seeing her entering this burning cathedral of stone.

Now it felt like his heart was breaking into pieces.

After what felt like an eternity, he spotted firemen coming out of the building, heavily loaded with what seemed to be paintings and small statues, stopping only to drink some water before diving back into the furnace.

It was a never ending cycle, in and out of the fire to the hymns of the people who had spontaneously gathered around the cathedral, needing to see what was happening with their own eyes.

To Peeta it was endlessly terrifying when he spotted the familiar silhouette coming in and out, again and again.

The cries of the crowd turned his attention towards the building, towards the flames that could be seen above the two towers, so high in the sky.

The forest was burning.

The 1300 oak trees from the 13th century that made the framing of the cathedral were burning to ashes.

Loud cracks could be heard, even from a distance.

Not loud enough to mask the sounds of the ambulances coming near the building.

It took hours and hours of relentless battle, thousands of tons of water, hundreds of firefighters who fought until the very last minutes of the night to extinguish the fire.

As dawn started to rise, as the sun made its lazy ascent, the fire was out.

The cathedral was still standing.

Burnt, injured, but still standing.

Torn, empty, dirty, but still standing.

Peeta couldn’t believe his eyes as the cathedral remained firmly in place, beaten but not broken.

He saw the Paris firefighters taking off their PPE. Exhaustion was written on their faces, along with something else … pride.

He heard the crowd cheering, the bells of the other Parisian churches ringing, yet he couldn’t join them for now. His eyes were scanning the faces of the men and women who had spent their night fighting against the fire.

Until he saw her.

“Katniss!!!” He shouted in the hopes of being heard, over the shouts and prayers, over the sirens and the water still being thrown on the cathedral.

He thought she couldn’t hear him, until he saw her move her head, as if searching for someone. He felt her eyes pass over him, then saw the perfect moment when she realized he was there.

He hoped the smile that graced her face was for him. He really hoped.

Then she was running towards him, leaving her PPE behind, the loud stomping of her boot clad feet echoing on the pavement. In no time, she was at the barrier, jumping over it just in front of Peeta, ignoring the shouts of the policemen around.

She was in his arms the next second.

-- 

April 15th 2020.  

 He checked the time on his watch, smiling.

Katniss was never late, he knew that. That day, though he was a bit more nervous than usual, was a bit unsure of how the day would go.

He finally saw her, looking even more beautiful with every day he had the chance to spend with her.

“Sorry! I was with Prim, she’s the one who insisted on the beret!” She pointed to the little hat she had on her head, that she was wearing a bit on the side like most Parisian women did.  In his opinion, it was a game of equilibrium on how they never fell. He was just happy she had left her hair down, as he had every intention of having his hands tanngle in her locks later that day.

“She was right. You are cute.” Peeta grabbed her hand as they started strolling along the quays of the Seine, one of their favorite walks. For once, they were both off work on the same day of the week, something quite rare with their schedules. The Louvre was open every day but Tuesday, yet there was still so much to do in the museum besides ensuring it didn’t catch fire for Katniss. 

She had to go through training on how to save the masterpieces displayed, to prioritize which ones to save in case of a fire (which led to a lot of disagreements from Peeta who clearly didn’t agree with the choices of the firefighters), or simply memorizing the museum’s rooms.

Even the small alcove they both had started to visit, trying to find a bit of intimacy out of the eyes of the security cameras. They still both blushed when they remembered the comment from Thresh, about the arrow tattoo Katniss had on her left hip.

They had kept their private sessions to just making out from then on.

(Even though they never walked through the Egyptian Department without thinking of that time Peeta made her cum next to the statue of Amon).

He was brought back to reality when she slapped his arm at his comment.

“I do not look cute!” She scowled, but he could see the spark in her eyes. He knew better, knew she liked his compliments.

“If you say so, Love, if you say so. You ready for a session with Monet?” 

“Monet, Monet, Monet, must be funny, in a rich man’s world….”

“Katniss ….” he sighed, trying to prevent the smirk he could feel forming on his lips.

“What? You can’t go wrong with ABBA!” She laughed, making his heart grow even bigger.

Before their first kiss on a sad April morning, a kiss of tears and ashes, Peeta had never thought he could be able to love so much, so fiercely, so deeply, and yet feel so free.

“Where are we going? Orsay is the other way?” Katniss asked, looking around them. “We’re not going to see your painter friends?” 

“Surprise, Love, surprise.”

“You know I hate surprises.”

“Yup.”

“Yet you keep on planning them.”

“Yup.”

“You’re irritating.”

“And you love me for that.”

“No, I don’t love you for that.” 

When Katniss spoke those words, Peeta felt his heart break a little.

Sure, she had never told him she loved him in such terms, rather shown him in so many different ways …

“Sit down with me…” he hadn’t realized that she was now sitting on the quay, her hand held out for him to take it. He hoped he was able to conceal how much he was hurting at the moment.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Peeta. That I have wanted to tell you for some time now..”

He could feel the cool pavement under the fabric of his jeans. It felt like cold was spreading inside of him. Katniss wasn’t even looking at him, her head turned towards the other bank of the Seine, facing away.

He saw her take a deep breath before she turned to him, before her hand went to his head, cradling it in her warm palm.

He was sure the killing blow, the coup de grâce was coming.

“Peeta, look at me…” Her voice was soft as the wind, light as a feather. He mustered all the strength he had in him before raising his eyes, before blue met grey. She had the most fascinating eyes he had ever seen. That would never change.

“Peeta, you keep calling me ‘Love’…” He closed his eyes, willing the tears to fade away, wishing for the heartbreak to stop. “Nobody’s called me ‘Love’ before. I’ve been… damn, this is hard!”

This was hard? He couldn’t believe his ears.

He was opening his mouth to tell her to go for the kill directly when she put her hand on his lips.

“Don’t, Peeta. This is something I have to do. For me, for you… for us.” He could feel her fingers shaking as she took a deep breath.

”You took me by surprise, Peeta. I never thought I would… feel so much. At first I blamed it on the fire, on the pain that it brought us, you, that it brought me. It was so awful being inside the cathedral, seeing all this stone being eaten by the fire. I thought something inside me had broken… and then I saw you… you’d been waiting for me all night. All night. And I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know what was happening inside me then. Didn’t know the effect you’d have on me, Peeta.”

She turned to look at the water, letting her hand fall from his face before she continued.

“I never thought I had so much joy in me, how the little things could become so important. How a single person could have such an impact on me. How three words could make my heart grow so big I thought it would explode.”

Peeta listened, as she went on. It felt like he was living a dream.

“You call me courageous and strong, Peeta. You rave about how you’re impressed when I run into a fire, on how strong I am. Yet, I am not strong enough to say these three words, even though I want to. I’ve wanted to tell you them since the day you told me… Why is it so hard?”

She turned to him, her eyes shining.

He felt something blossoming inside of him. He knew it was love, spreading its wings. Peeta moved closer to Katniss, taking her hand in his.

“It’s hard, because once you say it, it becomes real. The question is… Do you want it to be real?”

She nodded. He went on.

“You don’t have to shout them. You can whisper them in my ear if you want…”

She smiled, and her smile was brighter than the sun. She seemed to hesitate for a second, before leaning into him. He felt her breath on his neck, on his jaw as well as the kisses she left there., Her hair tickled him. It was not enough, yet it was too much at the same time. He wanted to take her lips with his, wanted to ravish her mouth, wanted to take her to his place where they would make love until the early hours of the morning, wanted her.

He knew though that it would have to wait a few seconds. Because Katniss was about to give him the gift he hadn’t dared wish for.

He felt her take a small breath, before the words were spoken softly, for his ears only.

“I love you.”

Something exploded inside of him. It felt like he could achieve anything.

The only thing he wanted to do in that moment though was to kiss her until they ran out of breath.

So he did it.

When the bells of Notre-Dame rang for the first time in a year, they were still kissing.

[ducktracy]

178. i wanna be a sailor (1937)

release date: september 25th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: robert winkler (peter parrot), elvia allman (mother parrot), mel blanc (duck), berneice hansell (patrick parrot, patricia parrot), billy bletcher (father parrot)

though porky was established as a star by this point, his stardom was a lonely one indeed. gabby goat had come and gone as a failed experiment, petunia only had a handful of shorts left, and daffy wouldn’t be established as a sidekick until a year or two later. aside from the pig himself, warner bros. didn’t have a vast repertoire of characters to boast. but that didn’t stop them anyway.

perhaps “boast” is a bit too hyperbolic, but there’s a rather fascinating trend in the late ‘30’s of warner bros. advertising characters who ranged from minuscule to down right obscure. porky, petunia, gabby, and the early prototype of daffy are all reasonable characters to tote, but it got to the point where one-off characters such as petunia’s dog fluffnums, “sammy sparrow”, and peter parrot where toted around as well. this marks the debut of peter parrot who, despite only starring in this short, found his way onto ice cream packaging, publicity sheets, and even wall hangers.

so, what’s all the hubbub with this little parrot? the short, an unofficial sequel to i love to singa, chronicles peter’s wishes to follow in his footsteps and become a sailor, despite his mother’s pleas against him. peter sets off for shore anyhow, but quickly realizes that it isn’t a captain‘s life for him.

the short begins with mama parrot (voiced by the great elvia allman) teaching her children how to talk. specifically, how to cite the ever-appropriate “polly want a cracker.” berneice hansell voices the first two siblings, patrick and patricia, who both fumble over the sentence in cute, giggly, slow voices. avery loved to put hansell’s squeaky voice to use, specifically to test our patience to see how annoying and how long he could drag it out. both children manage to spit out the magic words, much to the approval of mama. the underscore of “we’re working our way through college” is a nice touch--one of my favorites!

in the averyverse, it’s common knowledge that the third attempt at a gag results in a mix-up, and here is no exception. mama drills our star, peter, (named patrick on his various mediums of advertisement) but to no avail. instead, he resists, robert winkler (who was one of the voices for scrappy over at the columbia studio) providing his vocals as he grovels “i don’t wanna cracker, see? i wanna be a sailor like me pop, see?”

pan over to reveal a framed portrait of dear old dad, clad in a sailor suit, bulging popeye arms and all. mama does not agree, and is quick to launch into a rant. “huh. like your pop! why, that sea-bearin’ homewrecker, that high-seas hitchhiker... a fine father he’s been, the sea-goin’ sob!” her rant segues into a flashback sequence, animated by the great irv spence. the layout and background of the newly-weds’ new abode in the canary islands is very pretty indeed, great contrast with the blues and the yellows of the moon/light from inside.

elvia allman’s deliveries are great as always--she doesn’t get nearly the same amount of buzz as the other female stars of warner bros. such as berneice hansell, sara berner, bea benaderet, and of course june foray. the fond trip down memory lane includes warm memories of the new mother feeding her infants, the atmosphere warm... and then we pan over to the father, allman’s narration now acidic and vitriolic as she hurls insults in conjunction with the animation--the “rum-soaked old seagull” is surrounded by a wall of empty bottles, pouring himself a hearty dosage of shots. 

irv spence’s animation of the father’s lumbering, drunken exit out of the house is great--i especially love the extra details such as the swirls and stars. just as allman mentions the father’s venture to hawaii (on account that he could never stay in one place), we get a moment of avery genius as pa shoves his face back in the door to interrupt the narration (voiced by billy bletcher): “no, ma, it was catalina!” allman’s bite that was so harsh earlier is completely absent as she corrects herself. “oh... oh, yes. set sail for catalina.”  

another great avery gag that would be reused in the smash hit red hot riding hood, another avery piece: ma fondly remembers how she would “burn a little light in the window.” cue a giant spotlight beaming out the window, sweeping the entire island. 

mama parrot tearfully ends her lecture, asking her son “now you don’t wanna be a sailor, do you?” wonderful comedic timing as a tearful, mournful peter wipes his eyes. after a few seconds of sniveling, he responds with a warbled “...yes!” 

“WHAAAAT!?” so taken aback by her son’s reaction, mama parrot faints, literally hanging by her toes from the bird cage as she dangles unconscious. thus provides the perfect escape for peter, who opts to take matters into his own hands. cue the similarities to i love to singa: estranged bird children leave their over-protective parents in order to pursue their dreams. 

there’s a wonderfully smooth transition between multi-plane pans here: close-up to peter haughtily stalking off, footsteps tinkering to the beat. the surroundings of his household melt away to reveal a pan of the outside, the momentum never halting, no breaks in the walk-cycle, just perfectly timed. VERY impressive! i’m always a fan of the multi-plane pans to begin with, but this in particular is very well executed. in the midst of peter’s angsty stewing, he bumps right into a spare barrel. suddenly, an idea hatches, and he lifts the barrel (cartoon physics!) as we fade out. 

fade back in to another multi-plane pan, this time of a pond. i love the lush, painterly look of the backgrounds in the late ‘30′s and early ‘40′s--daffy duck and egghead in particular has some divine color styling. this pan reminds me quite a bit of the backgrounds in that one, as we’ll explore relatively soon (8 more to go!)

peter has successfully crafted a makeshift ship out of his barrel, the perfect size for such a pint-sized parrot. cue the introduction of the archetypal annoying blabbermouth--warner bros. loved their blabbermouth characters. dizzy duck, a blabbermouth facsimile to a certain disney-owned duck, would be porky’s sidekick for a whopping two cartoons. friz freleng would play around with the trope in his little blabbermouse, and even chuck jones would refine his sweet, mellow character sniffles into a bonafide chatterbox. 

here, it’s a little yellow duck (who looks awfully similar to daffy’s next appearance in daffy duck and egghead), barraging peter with a number of questions. peter is quick to shut the duck up, closing his beak as he snarls “well, see, i’m buildin’ a boat, see!” his explanation, reused from egghead rides again, is “because, because, because... today, i am a man!”, a take of the same line used in bar mitzvahs. while there may be a disconnect between the catchphrase and audiences today, one can at least appreciate the vocal talents ingrained in the line--specifically, the squeaky, prepubescent “i am a man!” provided by mel blanc here. little duck is eager to tag along. peter agrees, but not before clamping a spare clothespin down on the duckling’s beak to shut him up. 

cue the song sequence, which is more talk-song-y than anything. irv spence provides some nice animation as the two climb onto deck, peter shoving a mop into the curious duckling’s grip (”all aboard! c’mon, by heck! your job will be to scrub the deck!”) while the song continues, peter peels a skull and crossbones off of a spare poison bottle (how safe!), using it as a flag. the up shot of the flag being raised is nice and dynamic, even if the timing is a little bloated.

the ship has set sail. after glowing at his makeshift sail (a pair of long underwear), peter directly addresses the audience, a nice reminder that tex avery is directing the short. “this picture’s kinda like mutiny on the county, [actually titled mutiny on the bounty] dont’cha think?” he pauses for a few beats before turning back to the audience, now with a glower: "or dont’cha?”

to assert his dominance and strong masculinity, peter pulls out a stick of licorice from his pocket, tearing off a bite as a makeshift glob of tobacco. the animation of him chewing (and thusly spitting) the tobacco has a nice sense of weight to it--the push and pull is strong. he hocks it up over the side of the ship, and, like all spitting gags, the piece of “tobacco” traverses through the bottom of the water and lands perfectly in a submerged spittoon.

self-satisfied, peter now opts to scale the crow’s nest, using his beak and feet to guide him along the way (woodblocks doing a nice job of synchronizing animation and music). suddenly, he does a take to something offscreen. a storm’s a-brewin’, as indicated by the lightning that literally spells out “BAM!” as it streaks past. experimenting with typography is always refreshing to see in the shorts, especially when the words themselves form works of art. 

just as quick as he was to leave the family, peter drops his tough-guy demeanor, panicking and running around his ducky first-mate, who’s still dutifully swabbing the poop deck. peter snaps the clothespin off of the duck’s mouth, ordering him to do something. cue rambling duck: “what for? i like the rain. i like the water.” as he rambles on, borderline incomprehensibly, avery strikes again to remind us of what he’s capable as the duck interjects to the audience (in an adult voice), “ain’t i the talkingest little guy?” even better is that he wastes no time launching back into his hyperactive rant about swimming in the water and splashing around.

to make matters worse, the button flap of the long underwear sail unbuttons, rendering the sail useless. the combination of the rain, music (william tell’s “the storm”, of course), and sound effects all blend together nicely. the “ocean” currents, now forming ferocious waves, look hilariously cartoonish and not at all believable, but what’s the fun if the waves were drawn with precise accuracy?

peter wrestles with the ship’s wheel, which is out of control. his efforts are futile—he ends up twirling around the wheel. elsewhere, we get another gag that would be reused time and time again: a bucket of paint spilling and pouring back into itself due to the rocking of the ship. the timing holds on just longer than it needs to for it to warrant any laughs, though i’m sure it was much more amusing to an audience in 1937 than now, especially if you’ve seen the gag over and over again like i have.

speaking of reused gags: the blabbermouth duck is just reveling in the rain, not at all bothered by the catastrophic events unfolding. this gag is taken from one of tex’s last cartoons from his previous job, making the walter lantz oswald cartoons at universal. more specifically, his 1933 picture five and dime (about the 1:33 mark.) nevertheless, back to warner bros., the little motif of “september in the rain” adds another layer to aid in appreciating the gag. 

in an attempt to haul an anchor, peter’s plan fails: instead, half of the ship is yanked off with the anchor, sending the ship down. the little duck is beside himself, willfully diving into the current to soak up those sweet white caps. peter does not share his ecstasy, nor his courage. instead, he cries for help, crying for his mother... which, miraculously, she hears. seems he wasn’t that far off from shore after all! the extra touch of peter lowering his voice to bellow “calling all cars, calling all cars!” (also used in i love to singa) is a great little humoristic touch. 

despite her previous harshness, a mother’s love prevails, and mama parrot takes off after her son. cue another great joke, one that’d probably be even more uproarious during a time when the song was popular: mama dashes through the rain, reassuring her son “I’M COMIN’! I’M COMIN’!” and, in an instant, she drops her panic to sing a few lines of "old black joe” to the audience. wonderful timing--tex’s fourth wall breaks in this one are definitely satisfying. 

peter continues to cry for help, even in the tune of “shave and a haircut” at one point, much to the disgust and contempt of the duck, who goes as far as to give him a black eye. clearly, he doesn’t think highly of his captain. maybe this is more like mutiny on the bounty than we thought! 

and, with that, the duck easily tosses peter ashore, snarling “ya big sissy!” before frolicking in the rain once more. while some of the ship scenes dragged in momentum, tex does create a strong suspension of disbelief: remember, they were in a pond, not a treacherous ocean!

mama reunites with her baby boy, swaddling him and cooing all the way. “now... you don’t want to be a sailor, do you?” if you believe we’re about to learn some sort of moral, remember what you’re watching here. peter sniffles, wiping his eyes, giving a few sobs before answering in a direct parallel to the beginning, “...yeeeeees!”

it’s two iris out gags in a row for tex. like the beginning, mama shrieks another “WHAAAAAT!?” and passes out from the shock, iris closing in on her. just then, the iris widens back up as mama pulls herself up to face the audience. she heaves a sigh, her tone surprisingly gentle as she asks “now what would you do with a child like that?” iris out for good.

thus puts an end to tex’s 1937 dry spell. tex was no stranger to the vices of burnout (been there!), and i suspect he may have suffered a bit of burnout throughout mid-1937, or, at the very least, have been at a crossroads in terms of where to go and who to please. he had some great momentum going—porky’s duck hunt would, of course, become monumental in animation significance, birthing daffy and a whole genre of characters with it (and you could argue it’s why we have bugs, too). and, despite the nastiness of the short (which is inexcusable), viewing the technicalities, uncle tom’s bungalow was rife with energy and wit as well. but, for awhile after, tex floundered: shorts like a sunbonnet blue completely lack the avery wit and charm. egghead rides again was enjoyable, porky’s garden tolerable, but none carried the momentum that these shorts once had. thankfully, this dry spell comes to an end after this short.

so, moving on: this is a short i’m neutral on. it still lacks the fervor and conviction of previous tex entries, but it isn’t dismal. it has some bits of greatness that could constitute a watch: elvia allman does a wonderful job as the mother—the “burning a light in the window” gag with the giant spotlight was great, as were the various fourth wall breaks. those in itself constitute a watch, but other than that, this short remains largely unremarkable, at least to me. some of the scenes drag in pacing, but that’s an easy verdict to make when you constantly compare to the speed of forthcoming avery cartoons (especially at mgm), where you miss an entire gag if you blink.

ultimately, i think you could go either way. watch it if you’re more devoted to animation like i am, or at least snoop around for some of the high points. however, you won’t be missing too much if you skip it for now. thankfully, better cartoons are ahead!

link! (pardon the title, it’s fake, but the print is good enough quality.)

[swissmissficrecs]

My favorite fics of 2011

Continuing to sift through old bookmarks, here are my favorites from 2011 that are still up:

26 Pieces by Lanning (28K, E, Johnlock) Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (20K, E, Johnlock) ‘John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.’

A Love with No Name by aceofhearts (49K, M, Johnlock, Warstan, Mary/Irene) In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

A Thorough Examination / In Depth by emungere (15K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock watched John's mouth as that smile slid away too quickly. There had been something there, something he'd not had time to analyze. He was left with the unsettling impression of having witnessed an expression that didn't belong on John Watson's face at all. In its wake it left the equally unsettling thought that perhaps he didn't know John as entirely as he thought he did.

A Week in the Country by chainsaw_poet (20K, NR, Gen) Sherlock's lifestyle has taken its toll on his health and John is worried. With Mycroft's help, John coerces Sherlock into taking a holiday in the country to get some rest. Unfortunately, their trip doesn't quite turn out to be a relaxing as John had planned, when Sherlock's latest case decides to catch up with them.

Blind Man's Bluff by Rae666 (25K, T, Gen) "We are gods among mortals. But even gods must be tested." Sherlock loses his sight temporarily and must rely on his other senses and John in order to solve the case at hand. But as the killer draws closer, could the pair be in more danger than they first thought?

Contamination by LauraJV (16K, M, Gen) In which an artistic murder draws Irene Adler and her brother Nathan into the lives of Lestrade and Holmes, and Dr John Watson balances his morals against the happiness that is a warm gun.

Dehumanise Me by deuxexmycroft (26K, E, Johnlock) John is sent down for life after accidentally murdering someone, and gets snatched up to play prison wife for a strange man named Sherlock Holmes.

Disguise by kaalee (55K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock's disguises are little more than a nuisance to John until one day he walks into the kitchen dressed as someone from John's past, someone John had tried to forget.

Evidence of Human Life by thesardine (16K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock's sanity deteriorates while he and John are stranded on a deserted island.

Floriography by lbmisscharlie (21K, M, Johnlock, Warstan) Florist!AU - Sherlock is a florist and he's doing the flowers at the wedding of John Watson and Mary Morstan. John's about to marry his best friend in the world. He's happy, in love, and content with Mary. So why can't he get tall, enigmatic man who did the flowers at his wedding out of his mind?

Getting Better by noxcandida (75K, T, Gen) Tristram Holmes dreads attending his new primary school, fearing he'll be teased and bullied as usual. Only, nothing goes exactly as he thinks it will when he finds himself with a seemingly unlikely friend in Emily Watson.

In My Master's House 'Verse by BrighteyedJill (185K, E, Johnlock, Mystrade) As a new slave in the Holmes household, John is having trouble finding his place. (This series began posting in 2011 and continued until 2014)

In The Land Of The Blind by entanglednow (12K, M, Johnlock) Apocalypse.

Indecorous by Basingstoke (55K, E, Johnlockary but it’s a different Mary than in the show) In which John learns to balance a kinky girlfriend, an asexual boyfriend, a ten-inch cock, his sister, the neighbours, his friends, and his blog. Some are more balanced than others.

Lacuna by coloredink (15K, E, Johnlock) God, it must have been terrible, to think that he would never have this again.

Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain by theimprobable1 (17K, M, Johnlock and Warstan) John is devastated after his long-term girlfriend leaves him. Sherlock helps him through it.

Level 65 Paladin Looking for Group by etothepii (10K, T, Gen) "I think I met someone," John says at his next therapist's appointment. "A friend." "Really?" Ella asks. She sounds pleased, and also surprised. "What's his name?" John nods. "Really. His name's Sherlock. He -- he plays the same game as me, the online one. We party together."

Major Pieces by Lindentreeisle (31K, T, Gen) Sherlock knew that he could thoroughly rely upon John Watson's moral sense. And that's why he knew that Lestrade was wrong, wrong, wrong.

My Phone’s on Vibrate For You by misslucyjane (21K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock texts John all the time. Today’s different.

Never-Ending Cycle (orphaned) (17K, T, Johnlock) Or, four times Sherlock Holmes attempted to propose to John Watson, and the Christmas Party at which he finally did. Sherlock thinks he's a miserable failure, John is confused, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade provide some unsatisfactory advice, and Mummy is, as always, the solution. All in a lovely, fluffy holiday theme.

On The Ice by berlynnwohl (35K, E, Johnlock) "Sherlock, I once saw you taste a vacuum cleaner attachment that had been used as a murder weapon, so can we please not pretend that Dungeons and Dragons is too weird for you?"

Parallel by brbsoulnomming (77K, M, Johnlock) There's a case at a secondary school/University, some series of threats or string of bizarre murders that has the entire campus shaken. In the course of the investigation, Sherlock and John meet two students. And, because they both want to help with the investigation, they get to watch them become friends and fall a little in love. And that makes them feel things about themselves that they've been working very hard to not feel, thank you.

Secondary Exposure by thesardine (18K, T, Gen) After twenty years, the killer who abducted John as a child has resurfaced.  Now John and Sherlock must track him down before he claims another victim, and at the same time navigate the shifting nature of their relationship.

Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc by etothepii (20K, M, Johnlock) "Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc. It's the family motto." "What does it mean?" "We gladly feast on those who would subdue us." (Addams Family crossover)

The Art Of Seduction by flawedamythyst (97K, E, Johnlock, Mystrade, Sheriarty, John/OMC, Sherlock/OMC) Sherlock ran a website called The Science Of Seduction, on which he gave advice on the best ways to get laid, wrote blog entries detailing the results of his various sexual 'experiments' and generally contributed to the stereotype of 'every gay man is a sex-mad playboy'. John avoided the thing like the plague. AU in which Sherlock treats sex like he does crime in canon.

The Baker Street Series by magicbunni (199K, T, Gen with background John/Sarah) Conspiracy and murder find Sherlock Holmes and John Watson surrounded by covert enemies in the heart of Scotland Yard. Together, they unearth clues that illuminate the scope, depth, and distorted psychology behind the crime. And, after a preemptive strike ordered by the mastermind they pursue, Holmes elects to continue the investigation under conditions that will force John Watson to fight for his friend's -- colleague's -- life.

The Penultimate Problem by Random_Nexus (18K, E, Johnlock) Angst, apocalypse-light, pseudo-hiatus, and other hijinx ensue.

The Love Song of Dr. John H. Watson by Kate_Lear (11K, E, Johnlock) John takes Sherlock out for the evening on Valentine's Day.

The Perfect Specimen by Cleo2010 (27K, E, Johnlock) After seeing John undressed for the first time and making certain observations, Sherlock quickly becomes obsessed with a certain body part belonging to his flatmate. This is the story of how that first sighting came to be and the following attempts to learn more. An unashamed masturbation-fest, first person and very detailed. It's rated explicit for a good reason!

The Poster Girl by stardust_made (67K, M, Gen) A seemingly straightforward case has Lestrade calling for Sherlock's help. Written from John's POV, this story takes place two months after the events in "The Great Game" and follows the investigation of the murder of Veronica Havisham: seventeen, popular—and murdered in Hainault Forrest on a Friday night in June.

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (62K, E, Johnlock, Warstan) “I had,” he said, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.”

The Pull of One Magnet to Another by ellie_hell (46K, M, Johnlock) Mummy has arranged Mycroft’s marriage with an ex-army doctor. However, John meets Sherlock first, and sparks fly.

The Top-Secret Livejournal of Sherlock Holmes by malacophilous (23K, M, Johnlock, Sarah/John, Sherstrade) Sherlock has a Livejournal, which he updates constantly via his mobile phone and netbook. Everyone offline thinks that he's this stoic super-genius, when in reality he's a bonkers super-genius.

There's A First Time For Everything by Kate_Lear (21K, E, Johnlock) A series of 'firsts' in Sherlock's life.

Those Left Behind by nickelsandcoats (33K, E, Johnlock) After the events of The Great Game, Sherlock is on the hunt for revenge as John waits for Sherlock to join him. But deception abounds as both men struggle to come to terms with the paths their lives have taken.

What Makes Us Rich by flawedamythyst (31K, E, Johnlock) Agreeing on a compromise is one thing, living with it is quite another.

Whirlwind by rubyofkukundu (19K, E, Johnlock) You may be familiar with the following fanon ideas: 1. Sherlock was very sexually active at university. 2. It was while John was a student that he discovered he was bisexual. I decided to put the two together :D