#oh wow I’m also talking about so many topics I intend to put in my fic eheh

[ran-orimoto]

Why are you the Junzumi CEO in this era but you’re also so negative about it happening in canon? Am I the only one who has no doubt they’d eventually get together? In the new drama Junpei understands she can’t understand when people go after her like the boy who gave her the belly belt. Isn’t it the hugest ray of hope for a Junzumi shipper when in the train drama she told him he should speak clearly to her? Can’t it be a connection?

Oh Anon, I’m laughing so much🤣🤣🤣. “Junzumi CEO but at the same time she will always specify there is no way for it to ever happen”. Ops, what a peculiar shipper I am🤣💕. And what a confident CEO🤣, most of all!

I know, I know, I know I’m made like that but I promise it’s not only about Junzumi. I’m like this in general.

From my point of view, Junzumi has always had 0 chances in the writers’ plans, even if they did accidentally turn it in the most meaningful relationship of the series (crucify me). The reason why I believe this is that Junpei isn’t just a character the writers care about. He’s the comical relief, despite him originally being a more serious character in the drafts, apparently. He’s the dude who had to embody the stereotype of “the fat boy hopelessly falling for the main girl but she goes for the thin, hot, amazing, cool mc”. And the writers also stated it: Izumi would exchange his feelings only if he got thinner, which is **** ********.

Yet, you know what, Anon?

I admit I’ve eventually revalued that drama after having talked about it so many times and I can actually suppose a little, veeeeery little change of mentality MIGHT have happened, after all, not only in myself.

Passing to your observation more specifically, I hadn’t honestly connected the dots because I read the recent drama once and, yes, I did laugh at Izumi being dense but I hadn’t taken it in consideration that much🤣. I kinda like that side of hers though? The main girl who was so straight forward when she was 10……Actually can’t understand boys’ feelings if they aren’t highlighted directly in front of her face? Like, you have to tell her you want to date her or she will just go ???????? She reminds me of Ash from Pokemon ( but he wouldn’t probably understand it in that way either ahahha).

I highly doubt there’s a connection between the two dramas in general, though, since they are also contradictions of each other smh (the Digimon can’t go to the real world; so how did they arrive there in the 2018 drama????? New technologies?). However, rereading them, I can really see what you want to underline, and wow, Anon? What can I say? It fits, I adore it.

What I can tell about the kind of character they have attempted to turn drama Izumi into is one who’s got a very childish (in a positive sense) and carefree attitude. I believe she’s not into love stuff yet and only cares about friendship, maybe also because that’s what she cares about the most after having developed social skills thanks to DW. Junpei…I can say my impression about him is that he has always tried going way too forward, and it doesn’t really depend on the fact he’s the oldest. I mean, as a kid, he already dreamed about marriage and children🤣. In that drama he seemed to be organizing an imaginary honeymoon ngl🤣: who would travel around the whole Italy in a normal holiday trip? So, I like seeing their relationship having developed in this funny way: her being the airhead (surprisingly), the one who wants to have fun as much as she can, the one who gets excited about presents (“Grazie! What do you want to give me????”), the one who doesn’t care about her future at all; him being the one who has already estabilished his future and just thinks about the way he wants to build it: in middle school he already knew he wanted to be an opera singer (God bless you, Junpei), in elementary school he already knew who he wanted to spend his life with (and I wish for the realizations of any dreams of yours, baby).

Listening to it again makes me see their whole writing under a new light and since the drama has got hope in its title, I just…Can’t help feeling like it gave a little hope to Junzumi, as weird as it may sound. If Junpei can wait for the right time to come, I’m not that against believing he actually could pull it off anymore. He should just slowen his pace, for God’s sake🤣🤣. He frankly reminds me of a former crush of mine who was so aimed at the future he could only talk with future tense, no joking.

So, my conclusion?

“If you want to say something, say it clearly!” can be perfectly matched with middle school Junpei himself noticing she can’t understand this kind of stuff if you don’t speak to her clearly, directly. So, Anon, my answer is No, you’re not the only one believing in this age they might actually have a chance🤣💕.

Thank you for the ask💕!

[letarasstuff]

When everybody turns into an oracle

Summary: Nothing puts more pressure on you than other people teling you your grade will be perfect, because behind that stands so much more than a number on a sheet of paper. Same goes for Spencer's daughter.

Warnings: School, grades, angst (there is fluff and a badass moment), fear of failure/disappointing someone

Wordcount: 1.5k

✨Masterlist✨ __________________________________

“I really pooped this quiz. What about you, (Y/N)?” Before the teenager is able to answer, another classmate comes up from behind the two. “She’ll get a 100, like always.”

“I-I don’t know. Question two and three really got me there, I’m just happy to pass it.” The little group of people around her groans.

“You always say that.” “And get a perfect score”, the first one adds, “Just stop to make us look bad, because we really do have to worry about passing this class. What do you have to worry about? Getting straight A’s like that. I really want your problems.”

(Y/N) just keeps it quiet. She stopped a long time ago trying to defend herself. ‘I am on my way to the BAU’, she shoots a text to her father and exits the school building. Today she doesn’t take the train. There are too many noises and all she wants is some peace.

The words of her classmates echoes through her head. Yes, she always has a good score and she intends to keep it up. She is just doing her best, right? Her problems have to be still valid, don’t they?

“Ahh, Wonder Baby. I thought you forgot about us and decided you are too cool to hang out with us”, Derek calls out after her as soon as he spots his godchild. “Nah, Uncle Derek. Nobody can be too cool to hang out with you. I just hadn’t had much time because of school work. But there are only two weeks left before spring break starts and the only thing I have to do now is waiting for my results.”

“Right, Spencer told us you are stressing yourself out about those. Your last quiz was today, wasn’t it? The one you dread the most apparently?” Emily joins the conversation. “Uh, I did. But don’t get your hopes up too high, I really don’t have a clue what I did there. The grade can range between passed to 100.”

“Naw, Smartypants, you say that every time. What are you afraid of? Telling us you are real smart? Don’t be humble, we work with your father. We know how to handle geniuses.” Derek isn’t exactly helping her with that. (Y/N) just turns red and tries to change the subject. “Uh, no. Another thing: Where is Dad?”

“Spencer went to pick some reports from the M.E. in D.C. who helped us on the last case. He should be back in half an hour. But Penelope wants to see you, something about trying new vegan cookies she baked last night”, JJ informs (Y/N) as she passes the group to drop some files off.

For the remainder of the day the teenager hides out in the lair, blocking any human reaction out with her earphones. She just can’t handle any more insensitive stuff like earlier. Later her father picks her up to go home together.

“So, Emily told me you didn’t do well on your test today? Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, choosing his words carefully as he prepares dinner with his daughter sitting at the kitchen table and watching him. The doctor knows the pressure created by asking his daughter about school related topics.

“I don’t know. Everyone keeps telling me I’ll get a perfect score and I think it’s admirable that all of them turn out to be able to look into the future. How do they know better than me what I get?”

It’s months of pent up stress and anxiety finally making its way up to the surface. (Y/N) tries to fight the tears down. “I really don’t understand this. I get asked how I did, I tell them I don’t feel good about the test and then they talk over me every single time. And when I say I don’t know it, I say it to not get anybody’s hope up high. I don’t want to disappoint anybody.” Finally tears stream down the teenager’s cheeks.

“Oh Sweetheart”, Spencer makes his way over to her and engulfs his daughter in a hug. “Shhh, don’t cry. I know it’s incredibly difficult to live up to their expectations, but you don’t need to. You don’t need to impress them, because their opinion doesn’t matter. Neither your classmate’s, your teacher’s nor the team’s. Not even mine should be important to you. Also, it doesn’t matter what you do, I’ll always be so proud of you, words can’t even describe it. There is literally nothing you can disappoint me with. You pushed and still push through so much crap and still you don’t fail to amaze me. You can never fail to amaze me. You can fail any class and become a professional card counter, I’ll still be proud to be your father. Please don’t cry over something you shouldn’t care about.”

They remain like this for several minutes, grasping each other until (Y/N)’s tears eventually die down. “I just want to be something more than just the smart girl with the good grades. I don’t want to feel like a two dimensional side character in a show, only there to provide the main characters with knowledge. I don’t want to be Velma, River Song, Frozone or Domino from Deadpool 2. I don’t want to be overlooked like this anymore.”Finally talking about her deepest insecurities lets her feel like a weight is lifted off her shoulders.

“And you are so much more”, Spencer encounters, “Some people just choose to ignore it, because you are so much more than their small brain with a low capacity is able to comprehend. They just pick the trait they understand the easiest. But never stop being you. Stay loud, stay complicated and, if you want to stay, uncomfortable for them. The right people will take the time and effort to get to know the real you, not just a copy others think you are. I know, it takes a great amount of patience to wait for them, but it’s worth it in the end. You hear me?”

(Y/N) looks up at her father, a small smile forming on her face. He would walk to the end of the world if it means to see it. “I hear you, Dad. Thank you so much.”

This night the teenager doesn’t get a lot of sleep. There are many thoughts that want to be, well, thought through. Still she wakes up and goes to school with a new amount of confidence.

This sadly only lasts until her first period. The teacher, one who is typically known for grading student’s work pretty fast, gives back yesterday’s quizzes. A small tumoult ensues as everyone compares their scores with each other.

(Y/N)’s anxiety rises into the unmeasurable until her teacher puts down her worksheet without a word. Confused she looks at the B- sitting at the dotted line, where the grade is supposed to be.

Now, a B- isn’t bad or anything, but she spots several answers her teacher didn’t tick as right or wrong. He must have oversaw them. Deciding to ask him about it after class, she puts it away and focuses on the material he is teaching.

So there she is, waiting for other classmates asking their questions regarding the quiz until it’s her turn. Meanwhile her lab partner Masey comes up to the teenager. “And, how did you do?”

“Uh, I got a B- bu-” “Oh my god, I’m better than the class nerd. I’m better than The Brain. Casey, I got a higher score than (Y/N)! I think you, too! Wow, I didn’t know I’m that smart. But no worries, (Y/N). I can explain this unit to you later, so you can do better next time.” This is the final straw for her.

“Hold on a sec, Masey. I’ll get that A, because Mr Harries didn’t see some of my answers. And just for your information: I didn’t ask you about your grade last time, because I knew you would poop that one after trying to explain it to you for four times while I got another A. Like every single time until now. Stop trying to appear cleverer than you are, it doesn’t suit you as much as these pants don't, because they are at least two sizes too small.”

The line finally moves up and (Y/N) is able to show Mr Harries his mistakes. He apologizes profusely, admitting that he maybe was too tired to grade these last quizzes and rewrite the B- to an A.

With her head held high she walks past her classmates, a content smile on her face.

It may be a long road to accept that you can’t be perfect and your grades don’t have to be, but forget this for a second and appreciate the feeling you get proving someone wrong like this.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

[mister-supernova]

Trust In Me

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader

“You’re joking. You’re telling me, ME,--your oh so dearest best friend in this universe--that you’re not going to help us play against the Timberwolves even though you’re a freaking tribrid? You have all the powerups you can get and you’re choosing not to use them! What kind of madness is that, Marshall?”

“Professor Saltzman doesn’t let any of you use your abilities anyways, so there’s no real point in me helping the team, is there?”

You feel your eyes roll so far back you're surprised they didn’t fall out, “Come on! Do you have any idea what kind of badass duo we’d be out there?”

“Nope and I don’t intend on finding-”

“We’d be unstoppable! Those asshat Timberwolves won’t know what hit them on that field! You have to play at least one game while you’re at school here! Please!”

Hope responds to your argument with silence and a look on her face that you clearly read as, I’m not playing no matter how much you beg.

You knew there wasn’t any way of getting through to her thick skin, so you accepted your defeat. “Okay, fine,” you huff, taking a seat right next to Hope at the edge of your bed, “You’re still going to cheer me on though, right? I mean, it’s the least you could do.”

She takes an agonizingly long time thinking of her answer while looking at the hopeful ‘puppy dog’ look in your eyes. The longer she took, the bigger you made your eyes which eventually broke Hope into giving you a heartwarming smile, “Yes, I’ll be silently cheering you on.”

You smile back, “That’s all I need, Marshall.”

The alarm tone from your phone jolts you awake from another one of your vivid dreams. After meeting Hope outside the Grill the other night, your dreams have become more realistic than ever before.

They’re almost beginning to feel too real. Maybe the clarification of you knowing Hope is real influenced your brain into putting her into more lifelike dream scenarios.

It didn’t surprise you that the topic of conversation in the dream was about the annual Stallions versus Timberwolves game since it’s happening today. Even though your team has been notorious for losing on purpose every single year, you still liked the not-so-friendly competition between the rival schools.

At this morning's assembly, you were happy to hear your new headmaster’s announcement about banning the ‘throw the game’ rule. Josie seemed to be the only teammate who was hesitant about the sudden change, but everyone else was ecstatic.

The thing that threw you off the most during the assembly was Vardamus assigning Landon as the quarterback. See, you loved the guy and he’s one of your good friends here at the school, but you know damn well that his athletic ability is as good as a decapitated zombie--on either half--and even that was saying much.

You weren’t just saying this to bash on your friend because he was proving your analysis of him correct on the field as the team was warming up. You and Josie were helplessly trying to help him catch the ball after a snap.

Thankfully she has more patience with Landon than you because at this rate it didn’t look like you guys were winning this game either.

“Sorry. Foster care didn’t have a football team.” Landon grumbles after having the ball bounce off his chest.

“At least you didn’t let it hit you in the face this time,” you shrug, earning a searing glare from Josie, “I’ll go warm up over here now.”

You quickly excused yourself and ended up jogging over to Lizzie who was sitting on the bench with a stack of books by her side. First, Landon is your quarterback for the day and now you see Lizzie reading right now instead of warming up.

“What’s going on here? I thought you’d be pissed at Vardamus for giving Landon your QB spot.”

“I’m on a different kind of mission today, Y/n,” she says as you watch her flip through a book of monsters and that gives you the information you needed to know what this was about.

Coincidentally enough, Lizzie also met a new and mysterious stranger the same day you met Hope. The two of you bonded for the past few days over your slightly similar situations which you felt was very weird but also kind of cool.

“There’s no way Sebastian is like us and I’m determined to figure out just what he is.”

“And you couldn’t do this--hm, I don’t know--after the game today?” You ask in urgency for her to play today, “I mean, seriously Lizzie, this could be huge for us.”

“What’s wrong with Landon being your QB?”

Your eyes widen in shock, “Are you kidding? Just look at him!”

The both of you direct your attention to Landon on the field as Josie hands him the football. You prepare yourself for disaster as he winds his arm back, but then you find yourself proven wrong as you watch the distance the ball was being thrown. It seemed to soar through the sky for what felt like hours before bouncing off of a window from the Timberwolves’ bus.

“Looks like he has the magic touch now,” Lizzie says knowingly before returning to her book while you continue to stare at the bus in shock.

Right before you decided it was the best time to look away, a familiar someone seems to catch your eye instead. Walking down the steps of your rival school’s bus was none other than Hope Marshall.

“No way,” you muttered to yourself, unsure if you should be happy to see her again or concerned that she’s on the team you’re playing against.

Absentmindedly, you slowly started drifting away from your spot by Lizzie and felt yourself being pulled in Hope’s direction. You had to get closer to clarify that she was who you were seeing and not some sick mirage you’ve created in your brain.

“L/n!” Dorian jumps in front of you, breaking your trance and blocking your path towards the opposing team, “Save any trash talk for the game. I don’t need you picking a fight with the other players before we even start.”

You had built yourself a reputation for these annual games and were known for getting kicked out due to foul plays off the field, “But Mr. Williams I was just-”

“That’s Coach Williams today, L/n. Back to your side. Go on!” He rushes you away and though you are strong enough to push past him, you’d rather play then be a benchwarmer for the rest of the day.

An annoyed growl rumbles in the back of your throat as you try to catch one more glimpse of Hope, but you were blocked by Dorian’s clipboard.

Josie can clearly see the longing anticipation in your eyes as you join your team’s side of the field. You looked like a lost kid in a mall looking for their parents, “Everything okay, Y/n?”

“Do you remember those drawings from my sketchbook this summer? The ones of that girl, but all you can really see are her eyes and hair?” You ask her in a hushed voice.

She nods, “Yeah, the one you said you’ve been seeing in your dreams.”

“Okay, well I met her the night of our first day back at school. She’s real and she’s here with the Timberwolves,” Josie furrows her eyebrows at you.

“So you met her before your dreams?”

“No. That’s the thing, I’ve never seen her in town before the other night and after all my dreams. I know for damn sure that I’d remember her being on our rival school’s football team given how many times I’ve tried kicking their asses every year.”

“Maybe she’s a new student this year? You very well could’ve seen her at the Grill this summer without even realizing it. Our brains only need to see a face once for them to show up in our dreams.”

“Josie, I swear on everything in my life that it’s-”

The referee’s whistle rings your ears as he calls for everyone’s attention, “Stallions! Timberwolves! Both teams meet in the middle for the coin toss!”

You and Josie sigh knowing that you’d have to put a pin in this conversation, “You ready?” She asks.

You nod, doing a few quick stretches since you didn’t get a lot of warm up time and to prepare yourself for seeing Hope again, “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

A wave of excitement filled your chest as you walked with Josie towards the middle of the field. The bashful smile on your face was hard to contain once your eyes landed back on Hope who you could clarify was very much real and very much here in front of you once more.

“Oh, wow,” Josie mutters with surprise from beside you.

“I told you I liked my chances, Marshall,” you smirk, gaining a small tight lipped smile from Hope in return.

“I guess today was your lucky day, then. Not for long, though,” she challenged, playfully squinting her eyes at you.

You lean your body slightly forward with a confident grin, “We’ll see about that.”

Your teammates share a confused look at the interaction they were witnessing between you two. “I see you’re... familiar with each other,” Hope’s teammate chimes in.

With a shrug you say, “We’re practically married. Isn’t that right, Marshall?”

Hope shakes her head at you, biting her lip to keep her mouth shut long enough for Vardamus to stand between your two teams and break your friendly banter.

With a little sprinkle of magic from Josie, your team won the coin toss with ease so the Stallions would be receiving the ball at the start.

“Okay, what was that?” Josie asks as the two of you walk back to your side of the field.

“What? Did you want me to call heads instead?”

“No! Not that. You and that girl.”

“I told you we met the other night,” you shrug, “and her name is Hope for your information.”

“That was not an interaction from two people who’ve only had one conversation, Y/n. Not to mention she really does look like the girl from your drawings. Are you sure you haven’t met before?”

“That’s what I was telling you and yes, I’m positive that I’ve never interacted with her prior to the other night. You think that if I hadn’t seen or met her at the Grill during the summer that we wouldn’t be best friends by now?”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me! I know you’re labeled as the social butterfly and all, but that must’ve been some long conversation if that’s how you’re acting around each other.”

You pause to think about it for a moment, “Actually it was only about ten minutes.”

“WHAT?!”

The conversation was cut short by the sound of the ref’s whistle signaling you all to line up for kickoff. You jog away to your position before Josie can interrogate you any longer and wait for the game to begin.

Stallions were able to use magic to their advantage and gain points within the first play which was something you never thought you’d see during your time here. As everyone repositions into defense, you notice that Hope is the quarterback for the Timberwolves.

“Okay, Y/n. I’m about to suggest something you may or may not like,” Josie says from next to you.

“Don’t worry, I got the QB,” you grin, gaining Hope’s attention. She notices the mischievous look in your eyes and almost looks as if she knows what you’re up to, making her a little nervous.

“Like it is, I guess,” Jo huffs.

Once the football reached Hope’s hands, you made a b-line towards her, quick to avoid any other players who were blocking your way. Careful not to crush her during the fall, you took Hope by the waist and spun the both of you to the ground.

Your tackle didn’t do much good given that she was still able to pass the ball. Whether it got to her teammate or not you weren’t too sure of at the moment because Hope’s body was literally tangled with yours.

With her one hand against your chest and the other keeping her propped up on the grass, Hope’s face was almost an inch away from you. Feeling her breathing heavily on your face, you oddly felt like you’ve been in this exact position before.

“Bet you enjoyed doing that, huh?” Hope speaks up, getting you to huff out a chuckle.

“Well it wasn’t the preferred way I wanted to take you out, per say, but a little bit, yeah,” you smile, getting her to laugh in return.

Being in this position with someone you’ve talked to so briefly should feel awkward, but for whatever reason it just felt right. If it weren’t for the fact that you were playing in a football match, you’d probably want to stay like this for a while longer.

Suddenly, Hope’s eyes widen as she quickly rolls off you and begins wincing in pain while grabbing at her ankle.

“Are you okay?” You ask while sitting up.

“Ah, I don’t know. I-I think it’s sprained,” she lightly groans, scrunching up her face.

“Shit, Marshall. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I-” you shake your head, pushing yourself to your feet before reaching out to help Hope up, “here, I can help take you to the nurse if you want.”

“It’s okay. I can find it,” she shakes her head and she takes note of the worried look in your eye knowing that you had hurt her, “Hey, seriously Y/n, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.” Hope squeezes your arm and gives you a reassuring look before limping off the field.

You watched as she walked away, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. You were sure that you were careful while pulling her to the ground. Hope didn’t seem to be in any sort of pain for the first few seconds after tackling her.

“You know she faked her injury right?” Josie pops in out of nowhere, making your heart nearly burst out of your chest.

“Jesus, Jo,” you take a deep breath before taking in her inquisition, “And you think so?”

“Yeah and I don’t know why, but maybe you should keep an eye on her.”

“Why? Do you think she’ll steal some snacks from the kitchen?” You jokingly ask.

“Well, you started having dreams of her after Malivore was destroyed and now she seems to be oddly gravitated to this town and our school. I’m just saying that you should be a little more careful about trusting her so fast.”

Though you haven’t felt anything off-putting about Hope, Josie had an annoyingly excellent point. “I guess I’m on watch duty, then. Find a sub for me.”

It was shocking to see that Hope had gotten so far ahead of you that you weren’t even in running distance from her. Oddly fishy for someone who just sprained their ankle. Even as you walked into the school, there was no sign of her in the halls or the nurse’s office.

There was one thing that stuck out--a familiar scent that you had smelled in that vacant dorm room this summer. Only this time it was a lot stronger than when you first caught it.

Out of curiosity, you followed the smell just to see if it would lead you anywhere. Crazily enough, it didn’t take you to the vacant room like you thought it would, but to Landon and Raf’s dorm room instead.

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers when you see Hope sitting cross-legged in front of a map that she was currently dripping her own blood onto.

“Hope?”

She quickly turns around and stands, startled by the sound of your voice, “Y/n! Uh, I um, this isn’t what it--”

“Isn’t what it looks like? Right. Well, it looks like you faked an injury to sneak into the school. It looks like you forgot to mention you were a witch the other night. It also looks like you’re doing a locator spell in my missing friend’s room.”

Hope remains silent for a couple of seconds, almost taken back by the passive way you were speaking to her, “Okay, maybe it’s exactly what it looks like.”

You huff out a sigh in disbelief, letting Josie’s suspicions about Hope sink into your head now.

“I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else here, Y/n. I promise, I’m trying to help. Dr. Saltzman asked me to do a locator spell on Rafael so that I can help him return to his human form.”

You give her a questioning look, “We’ve been looking for a way to turn him back for months now. What makes you think you can?”

“Because I know more about the Crescent Wolf Clan than anyone else here.”

You raise a brow, “That wolf pack in New Orleans? If you know so much about it, wouldn’t that make you a…” then the realization sets in.

Hope sees that you’re still skeptical, “Look, I can’t explain everything right now, but I really need you to trust me, Y/n.”

Most of the context clues told you that trusting someone you’ve only known for less than a day was a terrible, terrible idea, but your heart wouldn’t let you believe that.

As much as you shouldn’t, you trusted Hope more than anything.

You exhale, “Okay, Marshall. I’m trusting you. Is there anything you need me to do?”

Hope gives you a grateful smile, “Keep an eye on Landon. There’s a werewolf-eating monster out in the woods and I have no idea if it will be after him, too,” she says, walking past you and into the hallway.

Again, you’re confused with even more new information, “Wait, there’s a what in the woods? And how do you know the monster would be after Landon?” Hope ignores your questions, continuing to speed walk in front of you, “Marshall!”

A lot of events took place within the next couple of hours. You did as Hope asked and watched Landon back at the game which seemed pretty boring at first.

Josie took you by surprise as you witnessed her break another player’s arm with a spell mid-play, but to be fair it didn’t look like she realized what she was doing until the damage was done.

If that wasn't physically violent enough, there was a huge mosh fight between both schools after the game was over. You tried getting out of the crossfire because the last thing you needed was detention for being involved in something you didn’t mean to be a part of.

That didn’t go as planned seeing as one of the Timberwolves was able to punch a mean hook on your right cheek before you could scramble out of there. Most of the redness faded by the end of the night, but it was still a little sore whenever you poked at it.

Hope was able to return Raf back to his human form just like she said she would. He explained how this “mysterious girl” saved his life then you and your friends gave him a warm welcome back to humanity.

After cleaning yourself up, you snuck out of the school’s building to find Hope sitting out at one of the piers where she told you to meet her before parting ways earlier.

You could tell she had cleaned up as well judging by the change of clothes and seeing that her hair was no longer tied up in braids, but now flowing down over her shoulders.

“Well, today was eventful, huh?” You speak up, groaning as you take a seat next to her.

“Oh, my God. Y/n, your face!” Hope exclaims.

“You know you can just call me ugly, Marshall. There’s no need for you to act all aghast about it.” You tease.

“No, I mean the gash on your cheek.” She reaches for your face to observe your wound more clearly.

You let her lightly trace along the edge of the bump, almost unfazed by the contact, “Oh right, that.”

“What kind of altercation did you get yourself into?”

You scoff, looking more hurt by the question rather than the punch to your face, “Bold of you to assume it was me who initiated the altercation, Marshall.”

“Well, you just seem like the type is all.” She looks at you with a teasing look in her eyes.

“What a kind and accurate assumption you have of me there, but for the record I wasn’t the one who started the fight. Everyone just started going at each other after the game and I got caught in the crossfire.”

There’s a very noticeable shift in Hope’s mood and you can tell that she was genuinely worried about you getting hurt. All she could think about was the last time you were caught in the crossfire and how it nearly cost you your life. You didn’t know that, of course, but you felt the need to reassure her.

“You’re cute when you’re worried, Marshall, but I’m fine. I promise, a punch to the face is like a slap on the wrist. You should know the healing process is quite fast for a werewolf.” You give her a knowing look.

Hope’s eyes widen in realization, making her finally pull her hand away from your face. “You caught onto that, huh?”

“I figured it out once you mentioned the Crescent Wolves. Raf only confirmed it when he explained how this mysterious werewitch saved his life,” Hope looks down at her lap looking like a kid who got caught in a lie, “Thank you, by the way. For bringing my friend back.”

She meets your gaze again, giving you a tight lipped smile, “You’re welcome.”

“You know it’s too bad you didn’t have me helping you out there. Given that we’ve got a pretty good thing going on here, we could’ve made a badass team.”

“You got punched in the face by a human. How do you think you would’ve stood against a monster that actively wanted to kill you?”

“That’s the whole point of being a team. One runs around failing miserably while the other pulls the weight.”

Hope scrunches her eyebrows together, “That’s literally not what being a team is supposed to be like at all.”

“Seriously?” You ask cluelessly, “Damn, well I guess I’ve been doing it wrong all this time.”

She laughs and for the first time you notice the way her eyes squint together when she really lets herself smile. It sparked a feeling in you that you hadn’t felt before.

“You’re just full of surprises today, aren’t you, Marshall?” You speak up in a playful tone, lightly bumping her shoulder, “Has our 24-hour friendship meant nothing to you? I mean, seriously, how could you not tell me you were a hybrid?”

Hope gives you an appalled scoff, “You didn’t tell me you were a werewolf. Looks like we both hid something from each other last night.”

You stare at her for a second, squinting your eyes as you analyze her, “Hmm. Touche, Marshall.”

She lets out another laugh and this time you swear you can feel your heart begin to grow.

Gosh, she’s really beautiful.

You wished you could say the words aloud. Part of you was surprised that you couldn’t given how bold you’ve been with Hope regardless of the little amount of time you’ve known her.

As much as you wanted to make some sort of move now, you felt you had to draw the line somewhere.

“Y/n, you’re staring.” Hope tells you in a voice that was just above a whisper.

You blink yourself back to reality, “Sorry,” you say with your voice just as hushed, “It’s just that… I think…” For the first time in your life you have no idea what to say. No witty comment or dumb remark.

You searched her deep blue eyes for an answer you couldn’t find. If anything you felt even more lost the longer you looked into them.

I really want to kiss you right now. Your mouth was open, but no words were willing to come out.

For a second you swore you saw Hope begin to lean forward, but the moment ended rather abruptly thanks to your cell phone ringer.

“Jesus,” you flinch yourself back into reality once again before picking up the phone, “Hello?”

“Y/n, where the hell are you? Vardamus has done a room check twice now and says you haven’t been answering your door.” Lizzie frantically asks you.

“I’ll be there in a second. Just cover for me if he’s still lurking in the halls and tell him I’m knocked out from today’s game.”

“Fine, just hurry your ass up!” She whisper-shouts before hanging up.

You let out a deep and exaggerated sigh, “Well, fun’s over, Marshall,” you grin sadly, “It’s pumpkin time.”

She returns a soft smile back at you, “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I’ll only say goodbye if it means we’re gonna say hello again,” you tell her as you rise to your feet.

“Well, then let's not say goodbye,” she says while you help her up, “Maybe if we just say goodnight instead, that's gotta mean we'll see each other again.”

You look down at her with a smirk, “That's all I need, Marshall.”

Hope rolls her eyes with a smile she couldn't contain. Just when you thought she’d walk away, she takes you by surprise as she presses a small kiss on your wounded cheek, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

You bite the sides of your cheeks to keep your smirk from turning into the goofiest looking smile you could possibly imagine, “Goodnight, Hope,” you say, finally turning back to make your way towards the school.

At this point, you couldn’t tell if the heat in your face was from the kiss or the punch.

~

taglist: @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch @sodangtired @idek-5

heyooo i know it's been a minute, but i hope you enjoyed this slightly longer chapter... again, i can't say how long it'll be until part 7 but i'll get to working on it as soon as possible! thanks for all your love and support for this series everyone, it really means a lot to me <3

[do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger]

EXT. The Roof (Winter) - Sunset

Not Just Attracted to Women!Peter Maximoff x Fem and Not Just Attracted to Men!Reader

Based off of a dream I recently had: Peter and Y/N have a conversation on the roof of Xavier's in mid-December. Peter accidentally lets it slip that he might not be straight, and he is afraid that Y/N will think less of him because of it because this is the 80s. Y/N reveals that she is also not straight, and is saddened by the fact that Peter could think that she could ever hate him- especially for that. She calls him wonderful. Feelings ensue. Also, a touch of Cherik at the end because I give the people what they want.

Warnings: Swearing, Peter cries, internalized homophobia (this is the 80s-ish and Peter uses the word 'queer' in a kind of incorrect and kind of offensive manner, but it was internalized homophobia and not actually intended to be mean to anyone but himself so I forgive him), a touch of angst but mostly fluff, Charles called you two "children" even though you are obviously not, Erik is happy that his son has someone that cares about him the way you do, Peter is insecure but not super blunt about it, Peter has been deprived of being adored his entire life, bad writing, I mention a serial killer twice, historical inaccuracy because the word queer was still a slur so yeah.

A/N: This is literally the first thing I have ever written so please be nice to me, I wrote this instead of an essay. I would love a comment of any kind, even if it's just a heart emoji or something, and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. Also 'N/N' stands for nick-name.

(Ok, so, full discloser: the format is odd. The bullet points represent dialogue, and the only dialogue is between you two love birds. The first bullet point is Peter, the second is Y/N, the third is Peter, and so on.)

“I dunno, the whole ‘liking people’ thing has always been weird for me.”

“How do you mean?"

“Pppffftt- 'how do you mean,' what are you, Shakespeare or somethin’?”

“Yeah, because that’s the era when ‘how do you mean' would have been a popular term. Ok, what do you mean?”

“Just- when other people were liking people I never really was?”

He was gesturing wildly and avoiding eye contact, as always. He wasn't uncomfortable with eye contact, he just got bored easily in conversations, he needed to keep himself occupied. In this situation that meant staring at the red and green lights covering the rest of the roof, the snowy trees all over the yard, and a holly garland around the gate. Peter wasn't Christian, but man, did he love their Christmas decorations.

“Like… now? In school?”

“Well- yeah… but also when I was younger. And I never liked the right people? Or... liked them in the right way?”

“So you’ve never liked anyone.”

“No, no… I definitely have. It was just… weird! I don't-”

His hands dropped to his side in defeat.

“I don’t think it’s that out of the ordinary. I would tell you if it was. Also, if it was... 'weird', like you said, that wouldn’t mean it was necessarily bad.”

He hadn’t really heard what she said, he was too busy pondering what his next sentence would be. When she wasn't speaking, he was rambling.

"I had some of the normal crap… like in movies when they talk about the fluttery stomach junk. I've had that around a few girls I've been friends with, also that phase with the boy stuff, a-"

“Wait, what phase with the boy stuff?”

“Like- when you’re in middle school or whatever and you're gay for a second.”

His phrasing was a joke, but the statement as a whole was not.

“…‘Gay for a second’?”

“…Yeah?”

“Hmmm..."

"Is that- not-"

"I don't think that is... 'normal'... per-say..."

“Oh… Really?”

His heart sunk.

“…Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“…Mhm.”

“…Shit.”

He suddenly looked almost embarrassed. He shifted his posture, seemingly trying to shrink into himself.

“Do you... wanna chat about it?”

Panic started to slowly rise in him.

“Um- forget I said anything.”

“Why?”

Something in him said to go on the "defense". He did not appear as calm as he was intending to.

“I’m not- gay! or anything. I like girls! I do!”

She put her hand on his arm.

“Hey- look at me for a second. We are not in court, and I never 'accused' you of being gay. That would be a very funny reality TV show, but not what is happening right now. Listen, theoretically if you were gay that wouldn’t be bad! And I wouldn’t be… whatever you.. think that I would be? I mean- however you are afraid I would act in a negative reaction to it? I would try to be here for you, and be as supportive as possible.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Ok, sure.”

“Peter.”

“What? You’re going to tell me that you would honestly be friends with a queer person- be friends with me if I was... not... normal?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the word he had used, and the way he said it, felt like a weight dropping on her shoulders.

“Oh. would you… not?”

It was her turn to seem nervous.

“What?”

“Would you- stop being friends with someone for liking someone that they… I don’t know… shouldn’t... would be the word I guess?”

Why, in this situation, was she nervous? Oh. His fear was replaced with guilt.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“So… are you… do you… why were you scared?”

“... Why were you?”

She expected a joke from him, something along the lines of “touché".

“Are you… gay?”

“No.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe her.

“Uh-huh”

“Really, I’m not. I’ve liked boys, but also... I've had feelings for girls. I’m not… straight. So I just want to let you know that it’s okay if you aren’t too.”

“I never s-“

She smiled at him with a bit of pity, she had been there. The self-loathing, the feeling of walking on minefields with so many people in your life.

“You are…”

She paused.

“I am… what?”

“Give me a second I’m trying to find the perfect word.”

“… Okay?”

“Wonderful.”

That was not exactly the word he was expecting. Like, at all.

“Huh?”

“That’s the word. Wait- let me start over. You gotta look me in my eyes as I say it, because it’s gonna be really poetic.”

“Uh… should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe a little. No.”

“… Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You are… wonderful.”

“Oh... Thanks?“

He looked away again, to be honest, he was a bit uncomfortable. He rarely received compliments, especially ones that seem so... genuine.

“I’m not finished, look back at me, just for a second. You are so wonderful- and I will support you as whatever you are! I want you to know that I can- I can barely even think of something you could do that would make me genuinely hate you- like… maybe if you Dahmer-ed people or like chopped up a-“

He found this was amusing, yet disturbing.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry- I just- the fact that you thought, even for a second, that I could hate you… is just-“

“I’m sorry”

“No! Stop it. Don’t be sorry.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to-“

“Take it back! The sorry!”

“How?”

“Say you aren’t sorry”

“N/N-“

“Peter.”

“Ok. I’m, ya know, not sorry.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be”

“You’re weird.”

“Yuh-huh. Says the most likely, from the little information I've gathered, bisexual in denial who also happens to be the fastest boy on earth who had to slow down exponentially to interact with other people who also, also, happens sitting on a roof in the dead of winter with me.”

“What’s by smexual?”

Something about the way he attempted to repeat her words must have been hilarious, he thought, because here she was, sitting in front of him, in a fit of childish giggles. He would smile if he weren't so confused.

“No- that’s not- what I said- it’s… wait!”

“What?”

“You’re tryna get me off topic!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Am not!”

“Are t- shit.”

“HAHA! Victory is a sweet dessert... wait is that even the saying? Still, I win you lose, nerd.”

“Ok, okay! go on.”

She was attempting to gather herself to give off a less jokey aura. It was half working, the "am not! are too!" argument a few moments ago made it hard for him to take her seriously, but he could tell it was important to her that he did, so he tried his best.

“You have to look at me again. just for a second.”

“I sw-”

“Just do it? Please?”

His attempt to put up a fight was thwarted by her small "please". He was pathetic.

“Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You…”

“Me… or- wait- I…”

“Are w-“

“Wonderful, yeah yeah. just get to the n-”

“No.”

“… No?”

“When you say it it doesn’t encapsulate it. It sounds silly.”

“Ok little miss ‘you art thou wonderful’, how would you have me say it?”

“I am you wonderful?”

“What?”

“You called me ‘little miss you are you wonderful’ what does that-“

“Ok! Would you just- shut up and call me wonderful one more time, please?”

She looked at him and blinked. That sentence surely came off as less ironic than intended.

“You are wonderful.”

She grabbed his face, in a half-joking manner. Her grab smushed his cheeks and she couldn't help but laugh a bit when she did it. Even though it was clearly a bit, he was still flustered.

“W-“

She shook him a bit.

"Shut up 'cause I'm about to say some beautiful and true shit. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are absolutely, unchangingly, and irrevocably wonderful and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Maximoff.”

After saying what she would (in 40 years or so) recall as a painfully John Green-ish statement in her blunt and matter-of-fact manner, she let go of her semi-ironic hold on his pink cheeks. Were his cheeks pink because it was absolutely freezing, or because his heart was beating faster than he had ever (and would ever, mind you) run, you ask? No comment.

“Wow.”

“Wow what.”

“You do say it better than I do.”

“Did you like how I stressed different parts of the sentence each time? I thought that was a nice detail.”

“Wow.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wow.”

Did his voice just... break a little?

“Peter?”

“Uh- yeah?”

Was he a little... sniffle-y? She was now very concerned.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh- um... yeah!”

No! No he was clearly not! He was sniffling!

“Really? 'Cause, you don't seem it.”

“It’s just- I just- wow.”

“Wow, what!?”

“That was just- uh-"

“Just what? It really wasn't that fancy, you seem much too impressed with me. Oh my God, was it terrible?”

“I mean it was really corny but w-“

“I swear to God if you say 'wow' one more time I may have to add ‘use of the word wow too much’ to the list of things that could make me hate you. Right next to the Dahmer stuff. That was a joke. Your use of the word wow is only mildly perturbing. Sorry."

She was panicking "just a bit".

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m not sorry. Sorry. Shit! sorry! I mean I’m not!”

And he was absolutely... full-on crying at this point.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

He was looking down at his mittens. Not that this is important, but they were very pretty mittens.

“Look at me, you klepto.”

He didn’t.

“You know- I’ve been hearing a lot of that 'look at me' stuff from you today. I mean- the klepto part is new-“

“Peter.”

“What?!”

He peaked up at her.

“Talk to me. Please, you're kinda scaring me, let me help.”

“I’m not sad!”

“You’re crying!”

“Yeah but not from the sads!”

“… The ‘sads’?”

“You know- when you get sad! It just means being sad! I don't- that’s what Wanda calls it, not me!"

He wiped his nose, tears still running down from his puffy eyes to his reddened cheeks.

“What are you crying from?”

“No one’s ever called me wonderful before.”

“I'm sorry! I did a few minutes ago and you didn’t cry!”

“No! You can't 'sorry' me if I can't 'sorry' you! And- yeah but that doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because it only felt big when you said it the certain way!”

“What way!?”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks-“

“I'm sorry about that by the way I was j-“

“No! It’s really ok! Do it whenever! I mean don’t do it whene- shut up!”

“I’m not even talking! You're the one talking!”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks, and you go: you are wonderful.”

“Yeah???”

“No one ever called me that before!”

"Peter, I- well- they- they should! They should! More often! Then the amount that it happens now! I think. In my opinion."

"Or really looked at me like that!”

“Looked at you like what, Peter?”

“Like I was somethin’!”

“Well, you are… ‘somethin'! Whatever that means! And- I think you deserve to be looked at as such!”

“See?”

“What!?”

“You just-“

A strangled sob escaped from his throat. He didn't know how to explain.

“Pete.”

“Ew. I hate that nickname.”

He crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler, trying to completely ignore the fact that he was an emotional wreck.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

She opened her arms and gestured for him to come closer. He was hesitant at first- but gave up all the reasons he shouldn't move to be closer to her in exchange for the promise of comfort she was offering him. He crawled over to her and curled up in her arms. The way she held him made him want to cry more. Who does she think she is- holding him like he was worth holding? With her chin sitting on top of his hair? Letting him do that gross cry sob with the spit and the snot into her only winter coat? Rocking him, and shushing him, and petting his stupid, silver hair? She was warm, too! The audacity of this woman.

When Erik brought Charles into his office to grab a chess set, they saw the two in the window. For a moment Charles considered telling Peter and Y/N to get off of the high platform, seeing as the two were the reasons the "no sitting on the roof" rule was enacted in the first place (neither of them were coordinated whatsoever). Charles quickly dropped this notion when he saw the look on Erik's face, Charles could tell it made him so happy to see Peter be held like that, cared for like that. Erik's expression made Charles want to both tell Erik that he is the most precious thing in the world, and make fun of him (look at Mr. Metal, gone completely soft). Possibly he could do both at the same time. But for now, he is just going to pretend he didn't see the two outside of the window, and have Erik grab them their game, go to the living room, and pretend not to have read Erik's mind when he inevitably asks him how he always manages to pick the white chess piece at "random".

[ninjaboy13779546]

Never Alone💚🖤(Sylki)

***Lamentis-1***

It was over, all hope now lost. Loki and Sylvie had just ran and fought through what seemed like a small army of guards, all the while dodging falling meteors and debris from buildings around them. And yet, it was all for nothing. For the Ark that they fought so hard to reach had been destroyed by an incoming meteor just seconds after takeoff.

The sight left Loki and Sylvie there, shocked, winded, and hopeless. To the point where Sylvie had left Loki to stand there in shock while she walked off.

It took a moment to come down from his adrenaline rush for Loki to realize he was alone. Looking around, he noticed Sylvie was nowhere around and ran off to go find her. That didn't take too long as he soon found her in an abandoned bar that they had ran through for cover a little earlier. He walked in and joined her at her place at the bar and took a seat.

"Well, other than that Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?" He joked.

That earned him a confused look from Sylvie as she looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"That's something I heard back on Earth." He explained, "Humans use it when a situation turns out to their misfortune."

"Right," she replied, still quite surprised as she poured him a drink as well.

When she finished pouring, she pushed Loki's glass to him and he took it with a half smile. "Thank you." He thanked her and she nodded back.

"To us, then," he stated, holding his glass up. Sylvie snickered at that and clinked the butt of her bottle with his glass and they both took their drinks. However, she actually 'bottoms upped' the bottle and took a few gulps which took a whole half of the bottle within those gulps, almost like superspeed. Seeing this surprised Loki and made him laugh lightly. "Well, you certainly drink like an Asgardian." He joked.

Hearing that, she paused and let out a hearty belch before slamming the bottle down onto the counter, but not too hard to break it.

"I'll take that as a compliment." She replied, giving him a momentary smile before leaning forward on the counter. With that she sighed heavily and shook her head.

Loki noticed all of this and could tell her mood was down. He knew it might not be the best question, but he still wanted to show some form of... compassion to Sylvie. So he went ahead and asked, "Are you alright?"

The blonde lifted her head and look at her counterpart before looking off and shaking her head.

"You know, I honestly don't even know why I'm so upset about it right now." She stated.

Loki furrowed his eyebrows at that. "What do you mean, upset about what?"

"This, Loki! The Ark, trying to get to it in time! I already knew it wasn't going to work, and yet I still ran..."

"We both did. You didn't do it alone. I was there too, remember?"

"Yeah," she hummed, "I suppose that's true."

"And yet you still went along with the idea, my idea mind you, and we both ran and fought together to try and get there."

As much as she hated to admit it, Loki was right. She had done all of that. "Touché." She replied, earning a laugh from them both. Loki's more lively than hers and hers was more suppressed.

Their laughter was cut short when the ground and building shook on account of another meteor impacting in the city outside. The quake lasted only seconds before slowly calming down. As it did, Loki let out a sigh of his own. This truly had been quite a day. First he'd met "The Variant", Sylvie she called herself. And she was quite fetching, formidable too. Just like him...no pun intended. They'd snuck onto a train, shared secrets, thrown from the train and tried to reach a rescue vehicle known as The Ark. Failing miserably in the end. And now, here they were. In a bar, awaiting their fate.

With that thought in mind, Loki's thoughts seemed to drift to him and Sylvie. All that they were able to do when they worked together. They actually worked so in sync, quite the dynamic. In fact, it actually made him...curious. "So why'd you do it?" He asked.

Sylvie looked at him with a side-eyed look. "Do what?"

"Run with me, go with my idea? If you knew the Ark was going to be destroyed regardless, why did you go along with it?"

And right there, Sylvie couldn't speak. Well, not that she "couldn't", but the answer to that was somewhat hard to put into words...for her, that is.

"Oh, I figured a good run would be fun before we die." A sarcastic smile showing as she said that, but Loki wasn't amused. Instead he still sat there with an eyebrow raised, awaiting an answer. Seeing this made Sylvie sigh and reach up to rub the temples on her head. Finally coming to terms with it, she reluctantly spoke it. "I was ready to give up and just about kill you too, to be honest...but, when you said that thing about the Ark never having us on it, it...it made me think...'maybe, just maybe we could do it.'...But it's over now and turned out to be a waste of time."

Hearing Sylvie explain that gave Loki a warm poke to the heart and a bit of pride too. One of his signature devilish smiles made it's way to his face and he gave a light chuckle. Sylvie noticed this and looked at him curiously.

"So you're saying that I...gave you a bit of hope, as it were."

Sylvie rolled her eyes at that but couldn't fight back the smile that came to her face as well. "Oh shut up, you!"

"Oh no, it's quite alright." The God of Mischief said, still holding that smile, "in fact, it's quite flattering to know."

His counterpart laughed and looked at him unbelievingly and shook her head before he gave her a wink.

This made her laugh a little harder at him, as did he With the moment. But their laughter was cut short by another piece hit outside, making the whole pace shake.

This made them both perk up, having almost forgotten what was happening outside. The shaking only lasted about two seconds before it slowly died down.

As it did, the two slowly began to settle back into their spots.

Loki, not wanting to end so...quietly, thought up a way to somewhat ease the tension. "Well, seeing as how we haven't got much longer, is there anything you'd like to say?"

"What're you talking about?"

"You know, like any last words. Maybe of sentiment, regret... confession." He gave a shrug.

Sylvie merely scoffed at that and held her look confusion. "Since when did you become so emotional? If you're anything like me, you ought to know that I don't do teary goodbyes or anything like that."

She had Loki there, that was true. But he also had a hidden ace to toss back. "And if you're anything like me, you know that you don't because those kind of moments make it to where we merely choose not to." When he said that, Sylvie knew she was cornered...so to speak. "Come on, Sylvie. We may not be honest to many others, but can't we at least be honest to each other?...I thought we trusted each other."

It was that last sentence, that last sentence that did it for her. Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart began to beat like a drum. Deep down, Sylvie sadly knew Loki was right. This might be the only chance she'd get to have some last tender words...and be honest about them too. And if there was anyone she could share them with, Loki for sure would not be her first choice. But he was currently all she had at the time so he'd have to do.

Before she could actually reply, the ground vibrated and the building shook as another meteor hit the moon outside. The shockwave from it hit them and shook the place once again before stabilizing soon after.

"Right, well...I didn't get to finish my mission, and now I get to die with a stupid parallel version of myself."

Loki simply closed his eyes and chuckled to himself before opening them again to see Sylvie smiling cheekily at him before wiggling her eyebrows at him as she had done earlier that day on the train.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked.

"No, you're right, it was quite nice." She smirked, her words dripping with sarcasm and tease. "Your turn."

Loki actually took some time to "Well, to be honest, I don't have much to say."

"Well that's a first." She quipped with a smirk.

Loki looked to her, feigning hurt before expanding. "What I mean is, I've only a mere handful of actual good memories, the majority of them were before I grew into my adolescent years."

As he spoke about that, Sylvie listened and her breath hitched a bit. Because that was exactly how it was for her too.

"But, I can say that...well...as far as family goes, my parents were quite... interesting...I do suppose I'll miss them...more or less. And as for Thor, as annoyingly valiant as he may be...he was always trying to look for the good in me...sometimes even at the cost of his own life." Loki thought back to his video file he watched back at the TVA headquarters, when saw and heard Thor say that he believed that there was good in him and that her still stand with him, despite all he'd done in the past, he still would. Tears began to well up in Loki's at that, and it seemed to hit him. He actually missed Thor, he truly did. "I honestly couldn't have asked for a better brother...one I don't even deserve...but I'm glad I had him...yeah."

And that bit right there made Sylvie's heart pinch, and a tear began to form in her eyes. From the sound of it, Loki had had people try to be there for him since Day One. Even when he did bad things, they still showed him loved and mercy, giving him another chance...something she never had.

"Wow," she said out loud, "sounds like you had it all."

Loki shrugged at that and wiped his tears, composing himself. "Well, what about you?" He asked, getting the topic off him, "What about this 'postman' of yours? If he was here right now, what would you say to him?"

"That uh...that was really a joke. I said it to try and shut you up, but that obviously didn't work."

"Ohhh. So then, you don't have anyone waiting for you after all, do you? No family, no lover...not even any friends?"

Sylvie merely gave him a silent shake of the head and began to feel tears forming in her eyes. "When you're on the run from an organization that has control over all time for over twenty years...you doing exactly have much time to stop and make friends."

"So you truly are alone..." It was more of a 'realization' statement than a question, and it was confirmed by the silent nod and saddening look forming I'm her face.

Now, Loki felt a few years coming himself, or at least the need to. Here was a girl who had everything taken from her, lost much in very painful ways, and...who wanted to belong. All of these, seemed to define him currently right now. It was then Loki felt something he hadn't for quite a while...empathy.

"I'm sorry..."

Sylvie lifted her head at that and looked at him. "For what?"

"That your life was broken by the TVA, that I've intruded on your plan...And I am especially sorry that you've been alone, all this time."

Hearing this fro. Loki hit Sylvie like a ton of bricks. These was something she hadn't really heard throughout her years much. They were words of comfort and empathy, she was able to see. But she felt as though there was more.

"And for what is worth, I promise you," Loki continued, reaching for her hand and giving it a firm squeeze, "you won't be alone when this moon is gone...not this time."

Looking into him deeply, Sylvie could see there wasn't one hint of deception within his words. They were all sincere, caring and compassionate. She couldn't help but crack a smile at his words. "Thank you." She tearfully replied, sniffling a little.

Loki gave a short nod and smiled, not letting go of her hand. And she didn't let go of his either, instead holding it tightly herself.

Since the moment was tender and open, Sylvie felt a sense of safety and comfort with her next words. "Listen, Loki, since we're dying soon, I think I should confess something to you. About you, actually."

"Alright, what is it?"

"Back on the train, when you tried to tell me what love is, or how you understood I should say," she tried.

"Yes?"

"Well, your dagger metaphor was actually quite... accurate."

Once again, his smile returned and he had a light chuckle. "Did you just compliment me?"

Sylvie rolled her eyes and chuckled herself. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Oh no, but that's the best part of it! Not letting that go, ever."

"Well since we're confessing something, I guess I can share this." The God of Mischief let out a breath before continuing, "I do feel bad that there isn't anyone waiting for you... because if they were, they would have...quite the enchantress to expect. And I mean that in every sense of the word."

A twinkle in her eyes as Sylvie took in those words and felt her cheeks hear up. "That may be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Well I'm honored to be the first." Loki smiled and took a dramatic bow, earning a other laugh from Sylvie.

Suddenly, another ground shake came, this one more severe than the last. And then more kept coming simultaneously. From this the two Variants could tell, the moon's end was among them.

"It seems as though our time is up."

"Yep," Sylvie agreed.

"Not exactly how I pictured dying this time, but, looks like there's no escaping this one."

Suddenly, an idea popped into Sylvie's head. "What if there was?" She asked Loki.

"What?"

Sylvie held up one of her hands and tapped her temple, referring to her power of enchantment, "If you let me in, I could use it to send you to a place within your memories and you won't feel it when the pain comes. It'll be just like a light turning off and turning a room dark...A peaceful ending."

While the idea did sound quite an appealing alternative to what was coming from outside, there was still one thing that worried him. "Well what about you?"

At that, a soft smile came to Sylvie as she heard the worry in Loki's voice. "It's ok, I'll be alright."

"No!" Loki retorted, determination in his eyes. "I will not let you send me off to some mental paradise while you stay here and endure this death alone! No, I made a promise that when you died, you would not do it alone. That I would be RIGHT HERE to suffer through it with you, and by Odin, I'm sticking to it!"

Like a hunter after prey, Loki was determined to stick with Sylvie. Now truthfully, she could've put him into his trance as he was ranting to her. Yet, she was mesmerized by the loyalty and compassion that Loki displayed in this very moment. Dare she say, she actually found it...attractive.

"Well what do you propose we do then?" She asked sweetly.

Almost instantly, Loki thought of an idea. "We could both could go. We could send each other into my memory and ride it out together."

From this a light smile came to her lips and a tear escaped from her eyes. Yet again this " idiot" she'd grown fond of thought up a way for them both still to work together and still have a peaceful ending. However, there was also one more sad factor that was left out. "But you don't know how to do it."

"Teach me, right now. Crash course lesson."

A look of hesitation appear in her eyes, but another squeeze from Loki's hand seems to break the ice as she let out a sigh and gave a short nod. "All right. First thing, go into your mind and think about a place you've been that you want to go. Once you find it, hold it there."

With those instructions, Loki them closed his eyes and began to think of a place. It took a moment and his thoughts surprised even him, but he finally found one and held on to it. "Ok, I've got it."

"Got it? Ok, now," Sylvie brought her hand up and positioned it as though she was getting ready for an arm wrestle. Fortunately, Loki knew what this meant and met her halfway, locking his hand with hers. "for this part, you need to clear your mind. Clear it out and focus on my voice. You should be able to see into my mind now...can you see me...can you?"

Loki searched and searched through the darkness, at first nothing. But what he found that helped was focusing on the sound of Sylvie's voice. He listened to it and it echoed throughout his brain. Focusing on it seems to make everything thing else around them slip away. Suddenly, a green spark of power emanated from his fingers and against her temple. He could feel her there and mentally moved towards her. The more he did, the brighter a small light which represented her presence seemed to shine until it shined purely within the darkness. He'd found her, he'd done it!

Eyes still closed, he smiled happily as he nodded. "I did it, I found you!"

Sylvie smiled at this and shed another tear of joy. It was working! She could feel him within her mind and he her too. "Good job! Now think back to that place you want to be...And take us there."

Finally, Loki focused on the place in his mind and also Sylvie, bringing her with him. Aaaaannnd...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It seemed to happen almost like a flash, but when the two opened their eyes and looked to see where they were, they could see that they weren't in the bar on Lamentis-1 anymore. Well, at least not physically.

They were now on a cliff that was somewhat familiar to Loki. He learned of it at the TVA when he watched his file on video. And now, here it was. A mental reality for him and Sylvie.

At first glance, Sylvie could tell they were in the countryside of some area. But curiosity still plagued her.

"Where did you bring us?" She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Looking out to the open sea before them, Loki began to feel tears form once again. "...This is where my father died."

Sylvie's head swiveled to look up at Loki, her eyes wide with surprise after hearing his words. "What?" She breathlessly asked.

Loki silently nodded, letting out a heavy sigh through his nostrils. "I saw this place in my file at the TVA...It's actually from my...well, what would've been my future."

Sylvie's heart began to ache for Loki. He truly had, in a way, come full circle, and yet it was still fraught with pain.

"I'm so sorry, Loki."

"It's ok. I'm sure my father was peaceful here when he died...He told me and Thor to remember this place...home."

"And you did," Sylvie lovingly commended Loki, looking him straight in his eyes, "and for the next few minutes or however long we have, it's our home now." She hugged him from the side to which he tearfully smiled and immediately hugged her back.

As he did, he thought about her previous words. Those were truly sincere and, well, loving. And he loved it. Opening his eyes to look at her, he noticed how close his face was to the top of her head which was buried in his chest. Feeling a sense of boldness, he lowered his nose into her hair and took in a good whiff of her scent. This did not go unnoticed by the woman as she perked her head up and eyed Loki with a teasing look.

"Were you just sniffing my hair?" She asked, already knowing the answer, but she still wanted to hear what he'd say.

Loki tried to play it off, but failed miserably. "No." His crooked smile was almost a dead giveaway.

Sylvie lifted an eyebrow with an "Oh really?" look before looking at his chest where his heart would be and smirked, she could feel his heart beginning to speed up. "Liar. Your body betrays you."

I'm that moment, Loki chuckled nervously and began to blush. Something that didn't really happen to him very often, if at all. "Can you blame me?"

Back in the real world, the two variants, while still in their deep-minded states, shifted their hands to interlock their fingers, strengthening their bond.

A small burst of green energy flashing their interlocked hands.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

***Cliff, Loki's Subconscious***

Loki and Sylvie were still locked in their embrace until they say down on the huge boulder, still holding hands and looking out onto the open sea.

"It's beautiful, " the blonde variant stated, smiling at the water that reached all the way to the horizon.

"Right, beautiful," Loki agreed. But Sylvie felt that they weren't talking about the same thing. Turning her vision to him, she saw him staring at her instead of the horizon. He obviously found this view far more beautiful than the nature about them.

This caused to Sylvie to smile shyly before blushing herself. She lowered her to hide the red coming in her cheeks, but it was brought back up by Loki who had a finger under her chin. The feeling giving the blonde a warm feeling in her face and all over, while it gave Loki another small burst of courage.

Taking the hand already under her chin, he moved it to cup the back of her neck and slowly lean forward. To his surprise, Sylvie followed suit and leaned in as well. They kept nearing until they were just a lips distance away from each other.

"Loki?"

"Yes, Sylvie?"

"Thank you for not leaving me alone."

"Never."

With one final smile thanks to that, it was Sylvie who leaned the rest of the way in and brought her lips to his, cupping his cheek as she closed the small gap between them. Once their lips collided, Loki felt a strong wind blow, as did Sylvie. But this was the good kind, the kind that came when your heart is bursting with excitement.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

***Reality***

The green swirls that surrounded the two grew stronger and shined brightly as the meteors outside came hurtling down, cracking the ground and taking out multiple buildings in the process. The moon had only seconds left.

Everyone outside had either sought shelter or ran frantically to avoid the incoming shower from above. But in this building, these two, Loki and Sylvie were oblivious to the forthcoming horrors of the outside world. For they were happy within their own little sanctuary, content with each other.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

***Loki's Subconscious***

After what seemed like a glorious eternity, the two variants finally broke their kiss and came up for air. They breathed heavily and leaned their foreheads against each other and looked into one another's eyes, breathless smiled coming with them.

And though they wanted to continue, they resisted the urge and kept their eyes looked on each other and decided this was how they wanted to end. Looking into one another's eyes, the eyes of the one they had...the one they had fallen in love with.

"This is it." Loki stated.

"I guess so," Sylvie agreed.

The two took the other's hands and held tightly. Their end close at hand.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

***Reality***

A huge junk of the cracking planet was now hurtling toward the moon, and it's landing point would be RIGHT in the city of Lamentis-1. None of the people within a mile of there would survive, more specifically, Loki and Sylvie, who were still in their enchanted state, would not survive.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

***Bar***

Suddenly, a golden time portal opened up within the bar and Hunter B-15 and two other Minutemen came through and Saw the two variants they had searched relentlessly for.

"Get them!" She ordered.

The Minutemen complied and marched over to the bar and grabbed Loki and Sylvie, pulling them apart.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

***Cliff, Loki's Subconscious***

Loki and Sylvie awaited their fate, hands together and foreheads connected. With eyes locked in each other until...

Everything went dark.

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Hi love! 💓 💓 can you pls write a fic of Chris and y/n meeting in at Yale (where they don’t like each other at all) she being too sensitive and him being too cocky but he secretly liked her the whole time. Never got along or anything. Then they meet again years later in the city, and become friends and fall in love. But with smutty included. Love your lawyer fics ❤️😩😩 so pls make this happen 🙏🏻

Time Will Tell: Part One

note: Hiii, I decided to split this request (which I love btw) into two parts, the second one will drop either Sunday or Monday :) this part is more background story/buildup, hope you enjoy!

words: 3k

warnings: swearing, a bit of angst (??)

“That’s the final one.” Your father grunted as he put down the last huge box on the floor of your dorm room.

“Thank you so much, dad, you’re my hero.” you said, hugging both of your parents tight.

“We’re really proud of you, Y/N. You are going to do so amazing.” You mother whispered, her voice heavy with emotion.

“Thank you so much, guys. I love you. Please give me a call when you get home.” You replied before embracing them one last time, and off they were.

You sighed happily, looking around the room that was going to be your home for the next four years. You were finally a pre-law student at Yale, a dream come true. You gazed out of the window overlooking the campus, beyond exited about all the things to come.

+++

“Alright, settle down.” The voice of your professor sounded over the chatter of your fellow classmates.

You quickly stopped talking with your newfound friend next to you and shifted your attention to the front of the class. It was your very first lecture, and you were almost giddy with excitement about the prospect of learning so much new stuff.

The professor had already started talking, reading out the book list for this semester when suddenly, the door slammed open, and a young man burst into the classroom. He was clearly out of breath, but still grinned at the professor.

“My apologies, Sir.”

His voice was cocky, and you felt an instant burst of dislike at the way he carried himself. He was handsome, tall and broad shouldered with a head full of curls and a winning smile. But it was obvious that he knew just how good he looked, everything about him gave you the impression of another rich, arrogant brat. Yale campus was full of them.

“Just see that it won’t happen again, Mr-?” The professor murmured, clearly displeased.

“It’s Cuomo, Sir.” The guy replied, still grinning, before slumping into the seat next to you.

Cuomo. That rang a bell. You would eat your hat if he hadn’t something to do with the New York Governor, he certainly looked like a politician’s son. You knew you were being slightly prejudiced, but your intuition about those kinds of guys had never betrayed you so far.

As if he could read your mind, the guy in question turned his head to look at you.

"Hi Sweetheart, what’s up? I’m Chris. “

Without even looking up from your notes, you replied.

"If that’s your way of flirting, it sucks. I’m Y/N and not your sweetheart, by the way. How about you pay attention to the lecture now before you get into even more trouble.” It maybe came out more vicious than intended, but you didn’t want this guy to think you would swoon over him just because he had a pretty face.

He just chuckled but turned back to the board.

You were fascinated by the topic of the lecture, eagerly listening and taking notes, the irritating young man next to you long forgotten. When your professor announced that you had to do a group assignment until next week, you promptly turned around to your friend, silently signaling that you wanted to form a pair.

But when the professor started to read out a list of names, your plans were crushed.

"And next we have Ms. Y/L/N and Mr. Cuomo.“

"Oh, you can’t be serious.” you murmured under your breath, when someone poked your arm. You turned around and stared right into Cuomos smug face.

“Looks like you and I are having a date after all, sweetheart.”

Well Fuck.

+++

“Ok, we’re going to do it your way, but just because you’re annoying the hell out of me, and I want this to be over as quick as possible.” You groaned, scribbling something onto the paper in front of you.

Not that you would ever admit to it, but working with Chris went better than expected. Yes, he was cocky and arrogant to no ends, but apparently, he wasn’t only in Yale because of his family name. You bickered about almost every decision, but his ideas for the project were actually pretty good and once you got over his stupid jokes and constant unpunctuality, his company was bearable.

“I’m so glad you’re finally acknowledging my genius. My next suggestion is, once we’re finished here, how about you and I grab dinner somewhere together. You look like you’re in serious need of some fun.” He said, winking at you.

The nerve of the guy.

“You think my idea of a good time is going out with you? Wow, you‘re really full of yourself, Cuomo.”

A weird expression flashed over his face, but before you could name it, he was back to his usual smug grin.

“Your loss, sweetheart.”

+++

You got a good grade on your assignment, but we’re still relieved when the professor paired you up with someone else for the next one.

Outside of class, you rarely saw Chris, mainly because you were parts of different crowds. He had joined a fraternity and the football team, and you often spotted him hanging around with the other frat boys on campus.

To you, they were all cut from the same cloth, spoiled, rich boys who’s only concerns were the next party or if they could graduate in time to take over their daddy’s firm. Those were the kind of people you were trying to stay away from.

+++

It was the final party of freshmen year at the frat house, and you had a blast. There was good music and a lot of alcohol, you were glad your friends had managed to drag you along. The frat boys were there as well, obviously, but you paid them no attention while you danced and enjoyed yourself.

After the third round of shots, you were starting to feel slightly dizzy. Apologizing to your friends, you went outside to get some fresh air. In the garden behind the frat house, the dizziness got even worse, and you had to lean against a wall to steady yourself.

“Everything alright?” someone asked from behind you. It was Chris.

“Sure, Cuomo.” You replied, your voice already slurred. “Just had one or two shots to much.”

“You certainly had more than that.” he spoke, getting closer with a slightly worried look on his face.

“Jesus, you look smashed, Y/L/N. Maybe it’s better to go home?”

“Yeah, I probably should get going.” You agreed, feeling incredibly fuzzy by now, and as you tried to walk, you almost fell over your own feet.

“No way you’ll make it to your dorm on your own. I’ll take you.”

You were too drunk to argue with him, so you just murmured something in agreement and leaned a bit against Chris’s huge frame.

“You have so many muscles.” you whispered, but he still heard you and laughed.

“Oh my god, you’re totally wasted, you’re gonna regret this so much tomorrow. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Luckily, the way to your hall wasn’t that long. Chris steadied you with and arm around your shoulder, almost dragging you up the stairs when you finally arrived.

You fumbled with the keys to your room, so he just took them from you to unlock the door.

“Here we are.” Chris announced, softly sitting you down on the edge of your bed. “Sleep, I’ll tell your friends that you’re home safe.”

With a groan, you sunk back into the pillows, closing your eyes.

Chris was still standing in front of your bed, as if he was unsure if he could leave you alone like that.

“You know,” he quietly spoke. “When I was asking you out, at the beginning of the year, I was kind of serious about that, I-…Y/N?”

But you had already fallen asleep, slightly snoring into your pillow.

Sighting, Chris ran his hand through his hair and gave you one last confused look before he left, softly closing the door behind him.

+++

Lucky for you, the next day was the first day of summer break. You were mortified about acting like an idiot in front of Chris Cuomo, but at least you didn’t have to face him for several weeks.

When the new semester started, the two of you saw each other in classes again, but he never brought the incident up. Instead, he went right back to being his insufferable, arrogant self, taunting you at every chance he got.

Your current class mainly consisted of discussions about the latest political and judicial affairs, and Chris and you ripped each other apart at every chance you got.

“You’re living in a dreamland, Y/L/N.” Chris drawled. “Face the facts, those tax increases for the top five percent or whatever it is you are suggesting, they won’t work. It would actually just hurt our economy, not that you understand anything about that. Also, your poker face is terrible” He pointed right at you, and a few of your classmates chuckled.

You almost lost your last drop of patience there and then.

“I am not sure what’s worse, Cuomo, the bullshit coming out of your mouth or your stupid-“

The professor interrupted you, ending the discussion before things could get really ugly.

+++

“I hate his guts.” You growled, taking an aggressive bite of your bagel. You were having lunch with two of your friends between lessons, and Chris Cuomo was a frequently brought up topic in your conversations.

“You certainly talk about him often enough to really make me doubt that.” One of your friends snickered, and the other one added. “You know that he watches you sometimes, right?”

“Bullshit, he hates me.”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m sure he looks at you with those big, blue, dreamy eyes because he despises you so much.”

“You have to admit, he is stupidly hot.” You friend sighted, “He’s so tall, and that face.”

You rolled your eyes at them. “Sure, he’s not exactly ugly, but his personality is. I’m praying we won’t have any more classes together next year or I might really punch him in the face one day.”

+++

Much to your chagrin, fate wasn’t on your side. Junior year rolled along, and again you had several classes with Chris. And as if that wasn’t enough, he started dating a girl you sometimes hung out with and became a regular guest at parties you and your friends were going to.

So not only were you almost killing each other every day in class, you bickered with him in the evenings as well, about every topic from beer brands to foreign policy. And still, when he ended your conversations to get back to his girlfriend, you always got a small sting of something that felt a lot like jealousy.

Since your friends had revealed to you that he was watching you from time to time, you had started to feel a bit restless around him. Somehow, he was able to get under your skin like no one else did, irritating you to a point where some days all you could think about was his stupid face.

Even if it was just to argue and fight, for some reason, you always gravitated to each other.

+++

“That’s it, I’m not listening to any more of your shit.” you shouted. Your latest argument had continued even after class has finished, and by now, you were walking through the hallways almost yelling at each other. People were already staring, and you had enough.

“The truth is hard to swallow, isn’t it?”Chris replied, his usually cool demeanor had dropped and by now he was just as angry as you were.

“The truth is, I’m sick of this and I’m sick of you. We’ve been at each other’s throats for years now. You won’t convince me of anything and vice versa. I have better things to do than fight with you every day. Just leave me alone from now on, please.”your voice has gotten quieter with each sentence, and before you could display too much emotion, you turned around and left Chris standing in the middle of the hallway, a perplexed expression on his face.

This was the right decision, you thought. This guy meant nothing but trouble, and your infuriating relationship had to stop, you had your finals to focus on.

+++

The end of year parties always were a huge thing on campus, but this one was different for you. This was it, Senior year was over, there would be no coming back to Yale in the fall. Nostalgia and relief about the finished finals made you and your friends celebrate like it was your last night ever and beer and liquor were flowing.

You had received your acceptance letter from Georgetown Law some days before, and the opportunity to continue your education in Washington DC was another reason for you to party.

At some point though, the amount of drunk people was starting to become a bit too much for you, and you decided to retreat to the garden for a moment of quiet. As you walked around a couple of trees, you spotted a lonely figure sitting on a bench in the dark.

“Cuomo?” you asked, a bit staggered. Usually, the guy was the life of every party. What was he doing out here all alone?

As if he had read your thoughts, he spoke up. “I was just trying to get some last moments out here, were leaving campus in two days and this always was my favorite spot.”

Who was this guy, and what had he done to the menace you attended class with?

You hadn’t seen that much of him the past months, not after your last argument, but the memories of your numerous encounters were still very present in your head. You had thought about him more often than you’d care to admit.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a nature guy, Cuomo.” you replied “Unless you’d count the lawn on the football field.”

“That’s because you don’t know me, Y/N.” his voice was oddly cold as he looked at you, his eyes almost appearing black in the dark. You tried to ignore how handsome he looked and focused on your dislike for him instead.

“Oh, I know enough. You have shown me everything I need to know about you over the course of the last four years.” You snapped, the alcohol in your system was making your emotions run high.

Chris got up from the bench to plant himself right in front of you. He towered over you and you had to crane your neck to look up at him.

The air between you was bristling with tension, he stood so close to you that your bodies were almost touching.

“Why, because I actually challenged you, delivered some real arguments against you? Until you chickened out?” He shot back, his voice growing louder, his fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t you want to become a lawyer? Better learn to deal with that if you want to survive in court, that’s not a place for soft, overly sensitive people like you.”

“Are you kidding me, you condescending asshole? You don’t have the slightest clue about the life of ordinary people! You’re living in your little Chris Cuomo bubble where everything is perfect and there’s nothing daddy can’t take care of and call me sensitive? I’m thrilled to see how you will be able to handle yourself out in the real world.”you were yelling as well by now, just lashing out to hurt him the way he had hurt you with what he said.

“Don’t act like you fucking know anything about me.“ He shouted, his face clenched in a mask of fury. He opened his mouth to continue, but you spoke first, your voice flat now.

“You’re right. I don’t know you at all.” With that, you turned around and left the garden, running back to your dorm before anyone could see your tears. He would always be the same asshole, and you were mad at yourself for ever believing anything else.

+++

“Christopher Charles Cuomo.”

The crowd around you cheered, whistles and shouts erupting all over the place. Chris climbed the stage, looking unusually serious in his black robe and cap. He took his diploma, shook hands with the dean, and then turned around with the most brilliant smile on his face. He looked carefree, and happy, and when he raised his hand to wave at the crowd, your whole class hollered for him.

“He is so incredibly hot.” Some girl swooned behind you, and you just rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the little stab of sadness you still felt about how you parted ways with him two nights ago.

But when you looked up to the stage again, he was gone, and in that moment you realized that it was very unlikely that you would see Chris Cuomo ever again.

[azucanela]

GOING TO A CAT CAFÉ WITH THEM [GENDER NEUTRAL HEADCANNONS & SCENARIOS]

FT. AKAASHI KEIJI, KENMA KOZUME,  USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

SUMMARY: Going to a cat café with the boys is eventful!

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: domestic, fluff, established? relationship, aged up for no reason

A/N: proudest of ushijima’s that is all akjsdjkasd also disregard random keyboard smashes, i think i caught them all but my cat kinda just did a dance on my keyboard ya know and uhhh yeah if you followed me for haikyuu!! now is the time to get your juice bc i have a [another] tsukki fic in the works

AKAASHI KEIJI

HEADCANNONS & SCENARIOS

100% his idea, or at least hes the one who initiated the date after hearing you offhandedly mention a new cat café coming to town, i feel like akaashi likes cats and dogs so he’ll be happy no matter what. but like cats just hold a special place in his heart because i dunno, akaashi lowkey reminds me of a cat, i have no explanation

akaashi honestly just thinks it would be cute to watch you interact with cats, like obviously he likes cats himself, but like w o w 

his s/o AND cats, how could this get better

“Y/N?” Akaashi spoke softly, arms wrapped around Y/N as he rested his head on their shoulder. Y/N hummed absentmindedly as they continued to cut the fruit before them, tilting their head towards him to indicate that they are listening. “I was thinking that for our date next week we could go to the cat café you mentioned.” 

Y/N pauses, their hands freezing as they spoke, “are you for real?”

Akaashi smiled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s neck, “yes for real. You said you wanted to go and it sounds fun.”

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

He offers them a small smile before pressing another kiss to their cheek, “Not often enough.” Comes his response, earning and eye roll from Y/N, though they lean further into his hold.

“Well, I’m excited to go with you.”

akaashi is the type to pay more attention to you than the cats, he finds your interactions with them entertaining and just all around thinks everything about that is adorable.

he loves watching you in general because he’s an observant kind of person. watching your mannerisms and interactions with others is how he kinda get to know you in his own sort of way, if that makes sense? he just compiles all this information about you in his head

obviously he’ll be petting cats as well but i feel like akaashi is actually really cold, like naturally cold, so cats might find that off putting but also he is probably really good with cats

they’ll be pestering him but he’s just watching you with a SOFT look on his face, like even the other people in the cat café are jealous watching because wow he likes likes you

likes to just hold cats, and cuddle, akaashi seems like the type to enjoy napping and could easily be compared to one himself because i dunno,,, he has cat vibes

Akaashi’s eyes don’t leave Y/N’s figure as he watches them pet the cat before them affectionately, a smile coming onto his face as he silently thanks himself for suggesting this. He absentmindedly strokes the cat seated in his own lap as his eyes meet theirs.

“Keiji we need to come back here.” They exclaim, smile on their face as they stare back down at the cat in glee.

He couldn’t help but wonder if they should consider adopting their own cat, nodding along to her words in agreement, “we should.” 

Y/N beams at Akaashi, moving closer to him to press a kiss to his cheek before returning their attention to the cat. In the corner of their eye, they can feel Akaashi’s eyes remain on them momentarily, before his gaze falls onto the cat once more. And Y/N can’t help but smile as they think of what the rest of the day holds.

And the cat they may or may not have been looking into buying.

KENMA KOZUME

HEADCANNONS & SCENARIOS

cat person HANDS down, i feel like this is a universally accepted fact, but cats are just calm. dogs definitely overwhelm kenma, they’re too high maintenance, and he probably finds them gross ngl.

i feel like he’s definitely wanted to go to a cat café with you, he’s just never asked because he thinks you’ll say no or smth

if you don’t ask he will ask eventually though, but i feel like you’d hear about a cat café nearby and be like wait kenma likes cats we should go

“Hey babe?” Y/N spoke from their seat on the couch, feet resting on Kenma’s lap and eyes still on their phone as they stared at the ad for the cat café.

Kenma on the other hand, sat with his eyes trained on the TV screen as he played on his many video games. He’s speaking lowly into the small mic connected to his headphones, but that doesn’t stop him from humming in reply to Y/N’s question as he brings a hand to move one of the headphones off his ear to listen. 

“Would you be interested in going to a cat café with me?”

Almost immediately, Kenma turns to Y/N, nodding far more eagerly than they expected. Kenma mumbles something into his mic before the TV screen goes black and he’s taking his headset off before spreading Y/N’s leg to move between them and rest his head on their stomach and look up towards them. “When?”

he would be so excited, like it would be the day of and he’d be trying to rush you out of the house because he wants to go see the cats n o w

don’t even try to talk to him when you finally get there because kenma is SUBMERGED in cats, he is no longer with you, his mind is with the cats. okay??? okay. glad we are on the same page.

kenma knows how to treat cats to get them to like him, he knows how to pet them and approach them, he has done research because he is SO READY to ask you about adopting a cat together— this is basically a proposal, say yes. 

in general the cats would enjoy his presence, he’s calm and wouldn’t manhandle them, he understands boundaries and isn’t going to bother cats that don’t want to be bothered

he probably wouldn’t like attract cats, but he definitely wouldn’t scare them off, and if you visit the cat café frequently enough they’ll all definitely start to gravitate towards you because wow!! the guy who gives good pets!!

yeah but dont go to a cate café for a date, you’ll get neglected, his attention is on the cats. he will, on occasion, look towards you and see how you are doing with the cats. this is a test to see if you are worthy of owning a cat with him

if you pass then he now wants to marry you congrats. 

slightly off topic but kenma strikes me as the type of person who is just cold all the time

A soft smile found its way onto Kenma’s face as he gently petted the cats, scratching behind its ear before looking up at Y/N, who stared at him with a smile of their own. “Having fun?” They asked, hand on the cat seated in their lap. 

The boy in question nodded, leaning downwards towards the cat, “we should come here again.” Y/N is about to reply when the cat in Kenma’s lap reaches up and swats aggressively at his hair, a look of shock followed by another smile making its way onto his face as he allowed more hair to come into his face.

“Yes, we definitely should.” 

Kenma looks up to Y/N, cheeks dusted in red as he tilts his head at her, “maybe we could adopt a cat.” He looks back down at the cat before him, “do you think they’d let us—”

“We both know the answer,” Y/N replies before he can finish, “but I’m sure we can look into it.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

HEADCANNONS & SCENARIOS

honestly

both a cat and dog person but cats hit different 

ushijima was probably talking about you with tendou, offhandedly, and he mentioned how he wanted to do something with you for like your anniversary or some sort of occasion or just purely because he is grateful for your existence

and then he was like, “yes I was considering taking them on a date to this—” he’s gonna say a fancy restaraunt and tendou is gonna be like lmao no

"So, what are you doing this weekend Ushiwaka?” Ushijima doesn’t same to take notice of Tendou’s suggestive brow raising, or the suggestive look on his face, much to Tendou’s dismay.

He replies nonetheless, “I intend to take Y/N on a date, they’ve done a lot for me and I figured they would enjoy the new—”

“Let me stop you right there my tall friend.” Ushijima frowned at the interruption but paused, gazing at Tendou with a look of confusion as he grinned widely at the renowned ace. “Cat cafés are the perfect way to express your gratitude to your lover.”

Ushijma tilts his head at Tendou, “cat café?” The questioning tone brings an incredulous look onto Tendou’s face as he stares at Ushijima.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what cat cafés are– you seem like a cat person, there’s no way I was wrong—”

tendou suggested going to a cafe date, and i feel like its because he just has a feeling that ushijima wakatoshi likes cat, and is completely incapable of planning a date well enough

tendou lowkey wants to go— maybe even bringing goshiki along, suggesting that he could observe was elite aces do in their free time, something the young and easily influenced boy would definitely [eagerly] agree to do alongside tendou — but he thinks stalking you and ushijima is like...

ya know, stalkerish. not that this has ever stopped him before, but he has a feeling that ushijima would want to return to the cat café and he’d have another chance to witness his interactions with cats

speaking of

when y’all get there its gonna be... kinda chaotic

this can go two ways for ushijima, like he’s a big guy and i feel like he is on the warmer side because of this and his athleticism and stuff like that, a mini human heater if you will.

he is also very tall and resembles a tree

many cats will love him, coming over to him and winding between his legs, purring against him and enjoying his warmth. but also meowing at him until he p i c k s t h e m u p. ushijima is confused by this, but at some point he does pick up the cat to ask— literally ask — what is wrong, and it stops meowing so he’s like oh okay then you’re fine. he puts the cat down and its BACK TO MEOWING AT HIM AND HE’S???

there’s definitely going to be a cat that literally climbs him, like sinks its claws into his pant legs, and maybe even to the skin, and climbs up his body to try and steady its self on his shoulders

i feel like he has good pain tolerance so he should be fine

but there is definitely going to be a cat that does not like him and its like scared of him because wow!! tall human!! scary face!! no!!

ushijima is probably gonna watch you while all these cats are harassing him for attention, but no— his attention is on you, his beautiful s/o.

Y/N grinned as they watched their boyfriend stare down at the cat that rubbed itself against his pant legs, purring and meowing repetitively as it look up at him. “Babe, why don’t you pick up the cat?” Y/N suggested, gesturing with their free hand to the cat below. 

Ushijima offered them a small — and most definitely nervous — smile as he leaned down, eyes fixating on the cat as his hands came to its side and he lifted it upwards to cradle the cat in his arms. “What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes narrowing at the cat in confusion.

Y/N nearly laughed at the question as the cat ceased meowing, prompting Ushijima to frown as he nodded solemnly, “you want to be put down then?” He asks, freeing the cat from his grasp and gently placing it on the ground, only to be met with another, rather aggressive meow. 

He probably would’ve picked the cat up again had the small cat that had effectively evaded him their entire time in the cat café not appeared in the corner of his eye. Y/N watched as he turned slowly, gaze falling on the cat that stared at him with piercing eyes.

And then ran away.

A laugh escaped Y/N as they watched the interaction, only for Ushijima to look up at them and frown, huffing as he carefully maneuvered through the cat café in fear of hurting a cat. “Come here— no, stop that. Stop running—” His arms were extended outwards as he slowly walked towards the cat, brows pursed together in concentration.

Y/N simply stared, a small smile on their face as they decided they wanted to do this again. 

tags: @therainroguefanfiction​ @iwaizoom​ @shawkneecaps​ @kuroirl​ @shinaus​

@beifongsss​ [bruh i dont even think you asked to be added but like i cant remember so] 

[thewritewolf]

Etude Du Coeur

Summary: Working on a last minute research project, it isn't just the topic of their presentation that Adrien and Marinette getting to know better, but each other as well.

This was originally intended for a zine centered around Adrienette, but that... ended poorly and I've finally gotten around to posting it here.

Also, Happy New Year, everyone! Let's see about if we can get started on the right foot this time.

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“We’re all clear on the plan, right?”

Adrien looked at Marinette, who in turn had her eyes narrowed suspiciously at Alya for some reason. All four of them were shrugging off their winter coats as they stepped out of the freezing cold and into the merely chilly interior of the old library.

“Yeah, chill girl,” Alya said dismissively. “We’re going to get as much work done on our project as we can.” She glanced around the large space of the library, with its tall bookshelves packed to the brim.

“Good…”

“We’ll probably need to split up to handle this though.”

“Wait no! That’s not what we-”

“I’m pretty sure there is a computer bay in the back,” Alya said over her shoulder as she grabbed Nino’s arm and all but ran that way. “Good luck with Adrien!”

“Wh- Alya!” Marinette yelled after her, but a nearby librarian shushed her. Looking irritated and a little panicked, she slowly turned to him. “So, um… looks like they wanted some space to themselves?”

Adrien laughed. “Yeah, those two are really into each other. Hopefully they actually do what they’re supposed to and don’t just… well... play super penguino all day.”

To his relief, she laughed with him at his joke, but she still seemed uncomfortable. Her hands stayed latched to the straps of her backpack as she wandered around the mostly empty library, Adrien following behind a couple steps behind her. Besides a few lonesome stragglers, the only other people they saw as they tried to find the ideal spot was Rose and Juleka. Only Rose, tired rings around her eyes, managed a quick smile and half-hearted squeak of joy when she spotted them before returning to their project.

At least they weren’t the only ones who had put this off until the last minute.

Eventually, they got a spot next to a merrily burning fireplace. He had known that Marinette didn’t like the cold much, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise. They left their coats and bags on the library table and although Marinette didn’t realize it, they were well protected under the semi-watchful eyes of a kwami. If nothing else, Plagg would make sure his cheese supply wasn’t stolen.

There wasn’t a whole lot of time to talk as they kept apart while looking for books. Adrien didn’t mind that, though. Talking or not, he liked to spend time with his friends in person. It also didn’t escape his notice that he almost never got any alone time with Marinette - and what few times he did get usually ended up in embarrassment for one of them. Like when they got chased across Paris by rabid fans, or when Adrien pretended to be a statue.

He winced. Not his best moment. Hopefully today would turn out better. After all, they were stuck together for at least the next few hours. Who knew if Nino and Alya would be meeting back up with them? Maybe Marinette and Adrien would be stuck together for the rest of the entire day.

All in all, as he sat down across from her at their space in front of the fireplace, saw her face scrunch up in adorable concentration as she began poring over a book and making notes on her laptop, the idea didn’t bother him in the slightest.

It was forty minutes into their study session before his attention started to falter and he looked for something to distract himself.

“Marinette?”

She fumbled the book she was holding, nearly dropping it. She only barely managed to catch it, but in the process closed it with such force that it echoed in the contemplative quiet of the library. With a wince, she set the book down and briefly glanced at him.

“Y-yes?”

“So… you don’t like the cold?” Although he kept a pleasant smile plastered on his face, he was screaming on the inside. Could he have come up with a lamer ice breaker? Science has yet to decide, but data is pointing in that direction.

“Y-yeah… I’ve never really liked it but it has been especially bad ever since-” Her eyes widened and she suddenly threw her hands over her mouth.

Naturally, this got him curious.

“Since… what?”

“Oh, just, um… since a little over a year ago. I, uh… I don’t know what happened exactly, but I got, ah, got even worse with the cold!” She laughed nervously before petering out. “So… yeah. Me and winter? We don’t get along.”

Adrien chuckled and spared a glance at the roaring fireplace to his left. “I can see that.”

With that conversation arriving at a dead end, Adrien tried to come up with some other topic. There had to be something that could get her talking for a while.

“Fashion!” Poor Marinette had been trying to take a book out of a stack when he blurted out that word and only managed to keep the stack from falling over by leaping up and hugging it. He winced. “Sorry. I just remembered I’ve been meaning to ask you about your fashion projects and stuff. I don’t get updated on them much.”

“Oh…” Marinette blinked in surprise. “Well, I’ve been juggling a lot of projects lately.” She put her hand on her face as she stared into the wood of the table in front of them, deep in thought. “Christmas is coming up after all and I… may have bitten off a little too much this time.”

“Really?” Adrien’s eyebrows rose. “How many people are you making gifts for this year?” He flashed a teasing smirk. “Am I one of them?”

“Well… yes.”

Adrien blinked in surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Of course!” Marinette frowned and looked at him with concern. “...Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I guess I figured you would be busy with everything else.”

“I’ll always make time for my friends.”

Adrien smiled softly at her. “Thanks.” A thought occurred to him. “Do you need my measurements?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that-” Again, she suddenly froze and cut herself off.

His voice took on a teasing quality. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, you are a big fan of my work after all.”

There was a glimpse of a blush spreading across her cheeks before she buried her face in her hands. She groaned.

“Aw, I’m sorry Marinette.” His smile faded. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

After a few moments she sighed and uncurled herself. “It's fine. Just a little... embarrassing is all.”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “That seems to happen a lot when we hang out.”

“I guess that means we’ll have to hang out more to break that curse.” Her eyes widened as if she was surprised at her own words and she immediately began to backtrack. “I mean- that’s not the only reason we’d hang out! If you even want to hang out, it's totally cool if you-”

“Marinette?”

“Yes?”

“Breathe.”

“R-right.”

While she took a few calming breaths, he added, “Let’s just see if I can get through today without embarrassing you any more and we’ll see how you feel after that.”

She giggled, and Adrien thought it was one of the best sounds in the world.

“Well, what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. What, um, what do you do for hobbies?”

“Oh, well I’ve got…” He held up his hand and counted down on his fingers. “Fencing, piano, basketball, modeling, and sometimes voice acting.”

“Wow! That all sounds pretty fun. It’s got to be interesting at least.”

Adrien shrugged. “I guess so.”

“...Are they not?” Marinette’s enthusiasm dampened.

“Well, they would be by themselves. Fencing is a great way to stay in shape and I like playing the piano sometimes. It’s just…” He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “I can’t just enjoy them. I’ve got to be the best at them or be perfect. Otherwise Father chews me out about it.” He leaned forward again, shaking his head as he hunched over the table. “That kind of takes all the fun out of it.”

“Oh,” Marinette said simply. “I never thought about it like that… That sounds exhausting since that takes up pretty much all of your time.” He gave her a curious look and she cleared her throat, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Or, um, that’s what it sounds like. It’s not like I’ve memorized your schedule or anything.”

“Of course.” He smiled at her. She said the weirdest things when she got nervous. Feeling a little mischievous he added, “Posters of me all on your wall? That’s fine. Keeping track of what things I do? Now that’s a bridge too far.”

“If only your fans could see you now,” Marinette said, shaking her head sadly. “They’d see how mean you really are.” Adrien laughed and she quickly joined him.

“You two seem to be getting along alright.”

Adrien jumped at the sudden new voice, his eyes flying open to reveal Alya and Nino approaching their table. There was a calculating gleam in her eye, while Nino simply wore a pleased look on his face as he looked between him and Marinette.

“How is the research coming along?” Adrien glanced between them and allowed himself a smirk. “You… have been doing at least some research, right?”

“Chill, bro,” Nino said, rolling his eyes. “We’ve been supes on top of things. We just wanna make sure you dudes are on the level too.”

“Say, blondie.” Alya surprised him by pulling up a seat next to him rather than next to Marinette. Instead, Nino had taken that spot. “Have you been a long time fan of the Ladyblog?”

Adrien blinked and tried to keep up with the sudden topic change. “I- um- yes?”

“Cool, cool. Did I ever tell you about Darkblade and Syren?”

“I… read the articles.” Plus he'd been part of the fights, but he wasn’t about to say that.

“Yeah but this part I didn’t write much about. My girl-” she gestured across the table toward Marinette, where Nino was grinning and pointing toward her “-really took charge during those akumas.”

“Alya-” Marinette began, whining. Her face was getting red with embarrassment, but Adrien was intrigued. He knew that his classmates had been close to ground zero in those akuma battles, but he wasn’t sure what exactly happened to them after he transformed.

“During Darkblade’s attack, our girl rallied the whole class and fortified the capital building. That’s probably why we lasted as long as we did while Ladybug and Chat Noir fought the knights.”

“Oh wow, really?” He looked over to Marinette. “That was pretty brave of you, Marinette!”

“Then get ready for this, blondie.” Alya pushed up her glasses while her best friend groaned and faceplanted the table. “During Syren’s attack, she got us all to higher ground and then jumped into a garbage bin.”

“A… garbage bin?” Adrien blinked, running it over in his head. Nope, still didn’t make sense. “Why?”

“Well, she started paddling off to go get help. The cure fixed everything before it was too big of a problem, but it takes guts to go onto akuma-infested waters with nothing but a trash can for a ship, right?”

“That is pretty gutsy of you, Marinette,” Adrien addressed the mass of flattered embarrassment that was his study partner.

“It’s been nice chatting, but we should probably get back to our end of the research.” Alya and Nino quickly got up and started walking away. “Good luck you two!”

Adrien waved but once they had left he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Did they even ask about how far along they were in their research? He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t sure.

Still, what they had said had given him something to think about as he slowly got Marinette talking again. He knew that he was the one who had given her the nickname of their ‘everyday Ladybug’, but he hadn’t realized just how apt it was. She had a lot of the qualities that he so loved in his lady - bravery, natural leadership, creativity.

That revelation stuck in his head as they worked, stayed in there for hours and hours. By the end of the day, it was still at the forefront of his mind.

Maybe it shouldn’t have come as any surprise when Marinette asked, “So, um… this was nice. Spending time with you and everything. I was wondering if… maybe, if you could find the time and felt up to it… if you wanted to maybe get a coffee or something with me?”

That he replied, “That sounds great.”

[feeling-uncomfy]

Part two!! I hope you enjoy- I'm really enjoying writing this! :D

There are no specific warnings, just Tokoyami having no clue how to talk to people and then fucking up when talking to hot dudes. Also there's a mention of COPD (I did a little research)

Enioy!

Hawks was there in ten, dragging Tokoyami behind him. Tokoyami grumbled until the door opened again, and he looked up to tell the person to fuck off, but froze.

Gang Orca walked in, bodyguards flanking him, but that's not what caught his eye. Oh no, not the people who could flick him and kill him, damn his size.

It was the boy who followed him in, eyes darting around the lobby, curious and almost.. afraid? He was tall, and the lower half of his face was covered by a skintight mask, while the top half was mostly covered by bangs, hanging low over his eyes no matter how much he swiped them out of his face.

He was muscular, but he seemed so gentle, with a nervous kind of excitement while walking in. He stuck to Gang Orca's side like glue, never straying too far. Tokoyami genuinely found himself frozen, his face burning a bright red at the sight of him. He was shaken from his staring by Hawks brushing past him to greet their guests.

"This is Tokoyami, say hello." Tokoyami blinked up at the boy, who stares right back. Neither said anything, but they didn't need to, really. The taller one broke the silence by bowing at the hip and speaking.

"Hello," the boy kept his head low, and didn't say anything else, almost like he wasn't sure he could. Tokoyami blinked dumbly again before straightening up.

"You don't have to bow, do I look like royalty to you?"

Tokoyami and Hawks winced in unison at Tokoyami's poor choice of words. Luckily, the boy laughed it off as if it was normal to be spoken to in such a way. Tokoyami bristled, and Gang Orca didn't comment.

Hawks spoke over Tokoyami's apology. "Gang Orca, my office should be an okay place for us to talk, Shouji, Tokoyami, why don't you two wait in the lounge?" Gang Orca almost moved in to stop them, but stopped at Shouji's enthusiastic nod.

Tokoyami found himself leading this absolutely handsome, dreamy boy, who's name he now knew to be Shouji, into the lounge. Wow.

He opened the door, and once Shouji was inside, he stood politely in the corner, not a word left his mouth. Tokoyami looked over, confused.

Shouji felt eyes on him, and he looked over to see Tokoyami staring. Instinctively tensing, Shouji fought to find something to say. People weren't really his thing, in fact, new places in general weren't his thing.

Nevertheless, when he'd been told he was going to actually be going somewhere that wasn't a bunker, Shouji didn't think of the consequences when he nodded. Being outside was something that happened once in a blue moon, and while he knew why, he couldn't help but want to be out there, doing something.

He had little to no involvement with the company Gang Orca ran, yet he knew the facility better than even the longest working person there. He probably knew the place better than Gang Orca. Shouji looked around the room, curiosity winning over his preemptive fear.

Forgetting the other person in the room, Shouji walked around and explored the room. Picking up things of interest, putting it back exactly where he had found it. Well, out of habit he organised it a little, but he didn't think about it as he went from item to item, mumbling to himself as he looked through the books.

It wasn't until Tokoyami spoke up that Shouji was brought out of his own world. "What are you doing?" Tokoyami once again winced at his tone. He sounded like Hawks talking to a rude dealer, and Tokoyami shook his head and focused on the guest he'd just startled. Shouji almost dropped the book he was holding. Almost.

"Looking, am I not allowed?" Tokoyami strained to hear him, Shouji naturally talking in a quiet voice. Tokoyami tilted his head at the response, more so how nervous it sounded. "Yeah, you are. I was just confused," Shouji seemed to relax at the words and went back to what he was doing.

Tokoyami watched him move from shelf to shelf, in a world of his own. He wasn't sure why Shouji was so interested in the lounge, it was just full of little collectables that Hawks has gathered over the years. But to Shouji, this seemed to be a whole treasure trove, full of wonders he didn't know existed.

Tokoyami caught glances at his eyes, how they lit up at every new thing he saw. It was endearing, and Tokoyami found himself smiling softly just watching him. It was as if Shouji could see things Tokoyami couldn't, and from how he studied each item, Tokoyami became more convinced he actually could.

But there was something to his curiosity. Tokoyami could go down the street and see half of these things, without fail he could point out where Hawks got them. Either he wasn't as observant as Tokoyami thought, or Shouji had genuinely never seen them before.

"Shouji?" Tokoyami almost snorted at how quickly Shouji put the thing he was holding back where he found it. "Yeah?" Tokoyami looked him up and down before speaking. "Have you.. ever seen these before?" It seemed innocent enough, and Tokoyami didn't miss the way Shouji had started to fidget.

"I-... haven't seen them in person, no." Tokoyami let his confusion show on his face, obviously, and Shouji was quick to explain. "I've seen them in photos, or I've seen them from a distance, but I've never been so close, they're even better up close," Shouji was on a tangent now, pointing out the things he held, giving little facts about them that Tokoyami didn't know before.

For his extensive knowledge, Tokoyami found that Shouji had never actually seen them, or held them. Weird. Tokoyami tuned the talking out, wondering why Shouji hadn't seen them. It wasn't as if they were very rare, in fact, they were common enough for Hawks and Endeavor to compete to get the most.

Hawks won, obviously. He was a hoarder, and a nasty one at that. Anything he could get, he did. Tokoyami was positive Hawks had maxed out one if his credit cards by the end of it.

Getting back on topic, Shouji was still on about a book, oblivious to Tokoyami's spacing out and the large book about to fall off a higher shelf, directly onto his head. Tokoyami glanced up at it and jumped when it wobbled before falling.

Panicking, Tokoyami shot forward, reaching out and yanking Shouji towards him. Unfortunately, Tokoyami completely forgot about the fact that Shouji towered over him, and since Shouji wasn't given a warning, they both were sent to the floor in a heap.

Tokoyami prepared himself to be crushed, but was surprised to find he landed on something soft. Maybe there was a cushion on the floor Tokoyami hadn't seen. That theory was proven wrong when the heard a loud thump. Someone definitely hit the foor.

Tokoyami opened his eyes and was met with grey. It was soft and oddly comfortable, and Tokoyami found himself just laying there, enjoying the pillow. That was, until Shouji spoke from someone above him. "Tokoyami? Are you okay there?" His voice was a lot softer than Tokoyami imagined it would be, up close.

Still, he looked up and froze. Shouji had turned them over, taking the fall and saving Tokoyami the trouble and pain. Tokoyami blinked up at him, realising that his face had just been in his guest's chest, shamelessly basking in its comfort.

To say Tokoyami jumped out of his arms was an understatement. He practically teleported. Shouji blinked before snorting quietly and sitting up. "Sorry about that, you weren't hurt, right?"

Tokoyami looked at Shouji, and couldn't help but think about how pretty his eyes were, Tokoyami could see the concern in them, genuine and kind. Unfortunately, Tokoyami ruined the moment by snapping.

"I can take a hit, you know. I'm not made of glass."

Tokoyami froze at Shouji's eyes widening, and took a step back when he stood up. Tokoyami was half expecting a punch to the face, but felt even worse when Shouji kept his head firmly facing the floor. "Right- right, I'm sorry.." Shouji's voice was even quieter than usual, hesitance ringing clearly.

Fuck. Tokoyami had fucked up. He tried to fix it, carefully stepping closer. "I- it wasn't meant to come out like that, I'm sorry," Tokoyami reached out, only to have Shouji flinch. It was small, but not unnoticeable. Tokoyami pulled his hand back quicker than intended, making Shouji shuffle back. Well, Tokoyami had just earned the title "Asshole of the year" and he couldn't even blame Hawks.

Shouji crossed his arms. He really wanted to make a good first impression, but he messed that up, and Tokoyami probably didn't like him. Shouji looked at the floor and fought the urge to get out of the room. He understood now why he wasn't always allowed outside, he messed up whenever he talked to people.

Shouji opened his mouth to apologise when the door opened again. Hawks was there, not looking pleased. "Hi there kids. Why don't you two go on a walk? It's pretty boring in here." Tokoyami blinked at the clear anger ringing through Hawks's voice, and nodded for his own safety, not wanting the nearest object thrown at him.

"That sounds good, c'mon Shouji." Tokoyami looked over at Shouji, begging him to just listen and not question anything. Thankfully, his enthusiasm from earlier returned to him and he nodded quickly. Tokoyami let himself relax, maybe the damage from earlier wasn't so bad?

The two left the building, missing Hawks putting a hand in front of Gang Orca and glaring, demanding an explanation. "You're telling me that this kid, a kid younger than my brother isn't allowed outside? How long have you had him locked up?" Hawks had one too many questions floating through his head, and a whole lot of anger directed at Gang Orca.

Gang Orca sighed and explained. "He's got Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease, have you heard of it?" Hawks nodded slightly. "It doesn't allow the necessary amount of oxygen flow from the lungs, not curable and could make life hell."

Gang Orca continued without hesitation. "In the face of any stressful situation, Shouji has the tendency to panic, and that's not something he can afford to do with this disease. It could be fatal for him."

Hawks nodded, taking it in. "So you're saying he could die if he had a bad panic attack?" Gang Orca nodded and added. "This type of job isn't exactly easy to deal with as you know, it's extremely stressful, and as a child he was constantly sick with it because of his tendency to panic on top of his lungs."

Hawks looked outside, where he had sent the kids. "So you're telling me I just sent a ticking time bomb out into the world, where he hasn't been since he was...?" Gang Orca supplied an age, and Hawks let out a pained noise before taking off and running out into the streets.

He had to find them before his trouble magnet brother got his new friend killed.

[Part 2 end]

[Sorry my writing speed has decreased a hell of a lot, I've got school stuff going on, but I should be moving a little quicker-]

[See you next time ;0]

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: How Do You Like It? {Headcanon/One-Shot}*

Chris Evans

Warning: Cursing, Lewd Topic, Conversation NSFW, Lewd Humor

Words: 2.2k

Note: Okay, so yet again I came up with something just by looking at these two gifs/images of Chris. Yet again, I have NO IDEA what this is, where this came from or what’s wrong with me. Rock with me though. Thank you for reading.

***Not Edited/Proofread**

~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d done a lot of interviews in his career. So many they all blended together. They asked the same questions, insinuated to the same things, told the same jokes. He could go through a regular run of the mill interview with his eyes closed and half drunk and still ace it. he was going nuts with the mundaneness of it all. He wanted to shake it up but of course, he had his image to think about. He always had his image to think about, which is why his interviews had been blander than what he’d imagined potato salad with raisins would taste like.

 He was tired of boring interviews and wanted to just go off the beaten path, just once. So, when he got wind that his team got an offer from a podcast called “The Thirsty Hour” to appear his interest was piqued. It took his team no longer than a minute to decline the offer. He’s expected that. The next day he turned right around and accepted the offer and had them go through Scott to finalize the arrangement.

 When he showed up three nights later to the address, he’d been given he did so with Scott and his partner in tow. The location was a hair salon that had a basement that the owners of the salon and founders of the podcast; Shaundra and Aleesha had set up impressively well. It looked like a professional start-up radio station. 

The duo thanked him for appearing and shook his hand over ten times with bright smiles plastered across their faces. He could tell their excitement and he was also excited to be there. It was sad this was how he got his kicks, sneaking off behind his team’s back to do interviews off the beaten path.

 He was offered a drink while they went over the schedule and possible content. Business discussions turned to small talk and a whole lot of laughs and that turned to three beers before Shaundra and Aleesha began the show. He sat back and watched the dynamic duo in their element. He liked the way they fed off each other and knew he was going to have a good time.

 Shaundra: Thanks again everyone for tuning in to our little podcast. It’s hard to believe that this is our two hundredth episode. It totally doesn’t feel like it.

Aleesha You’re right. It definitely doesn’t feel like it at all. We’ve been lucky that this has taken off the way that it has especially given how this is not a morning commute type of podcast.

Shaundra: Damn right, we’re the cousin of the morning commute podcast that many are ashamed of because they wouldn’t know where to begin when it comes to the things we talk about.

Aleesha: What kinds of things are those?

Saundra: The sex kinds. Sex positions, Kama Sutra, blow jobs, backshots, ways to spice up the marriage, how to give a proper striptease.

 Chris’ eyebrows shot up as he was mid sip of his glass of brown liquor. The immediate thought in his head was this was going to get interesting.

 Aleesha: And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

Shaundra: Tip of the dick print you mean.

 Chris couldn’t help it but snort loudly. He held up his finger as an apology for his outburst but neither Shaundra nor Aleesha seemed to mind. They just smiled and shook their heads as if to tell him not to worry about it.

 Aleesha: Speaking of dick print. I have no idea how we pulled this off, but we actually got confirmation that we’re doing things real BIG for our two hundredth episode. We have a special guest tonight, none other than Chris Evans.

 Fake applause sounds on a track and Chris takes up the headphones and puts them on.

 Shaundra: Welcome to the show Chris.

 Chris: Thank you for having me. I appreciate the thought.

Aleesha: This is your first time on the show. Have you listened before?

Chris: I’m embarrassed to say that I haven’t. I don’t get much time to myself and it leaves little time to find new things or enjoy things on my own.

Shaundra: I understand that. We’re glad you were able to come through though. You look very low key like you intended to fly under the radar tonight in your t-shirt, hat, and jeans. Also, are those the new Nike’s?

 He smiles and begins to blush.

 Chris: I’m a bit of a sneakerhead. It’s a thing for me.

 The ladies nod and look impressed.

 Shaundra: You’re sure you’re not a black man parading around as a white man?

Chris: Sort of a like a reverse Rachel Dolezal?

 The applause track plays again but is accompanied by Shaundra and Aleesha’s “ohs” and “wows”.

 Shaundra: Shots fired.

He laughs and shrugs as he takes another snip of his drink thinking this isn’t so bad and had no idea why his team shot it down.

 Aleesha: Speaking of black men. Chris, have you ever dated a sista?

Chris: Sista?

Shaundra: Sista, she mean--.

Chris: No, I know what a sista is.

 Shaundra and Aleesha eye each other in a way that speaks volumes.

 Chris: Officially no, I haven’t.

Aleesha: What’s unofficially?

Chris: I’ve flirted with, spoken with for a few days but nothing ever came of it.

Shaundra: Would you ever date a sista, a black woman?

Chris: I would. Why not? I look at more important things than skin color.

Aleesha: Like what?

Chris: Like, connection, conversation, sense of humor, interests, stuff like that.

Shaundra: I noticed you kept looks off that list. Do you not look at a woman’s looks?

Chris: The politically correct answer would be; looks don’t matter but in today’s world looks are everything.

Shaundra: Are looks everything to Chris Evans?

Chris: Nah. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Aleesha: So, do you have a type?

Chris: Nope.

 Shaundra and Aleesha laugh together.

 Shaundra: What catches your eye then? Nice eyes, plump lips, big boobs, small waist, wide hips, big ass? What makes Chris Evans look like the man in those memes who’s walking with his girlfriend but is looking back at a new, fresher piece of ass?

 He laughs again and thinks about the question for a few moments. He takes another swig of the liquor and leans closer to the table.

 Chris: Uh, I don’t know.

 He was still feeling censored from his many, many years of doing just that.

 Aleesha: Come on. Are you an ass man or a boobs man?

Chris: God, this is going to be everywhere tomorrow. The headline is going to say Chris Evans reveals he’s an ass man.

 The ladies laugh again and clap.

 Shaundra: Ah, so you’re an ass man.

Aleesha: Then you have to find yourself a sista. We’ve got great asses. Do you like them firm with no jiggle or round, plump with some jiggle?

Chris: Definitely some jiggle, something I can hold on to when I’m back there.

 Shaundra’s and Aleesha’s drop open. He’d just disclosed that he likes doggy style.

 Aleesha: So, Chris Evans is an ass man who likes backshots, which is the better term for doggy style? Did I just hear right?

 His smile was wide, but he didn’t confirm or deny what she said. That action was a clear confirmation to them though.

 Shaundra: Well alright then. I would have never guessed.

Aleesha: I would have. You give off this air of—confidence, it’s a confidence similar to what black men give off. I can’t explain it but there is something about you that is intriguing. I would have guessed.

 He smiles and tips his head in a curt nod.

 Shaundra: The last guest we had on the show, we asked about how he likes his head. He gave an idea of how he preferred it.

Aleesha: He gave up a play by play walkthrough.

Chris: Sounds informative. You do know that what works for one man doesn’t necessarily work for all right.

Shaundra: So, I’ve learned. Y’all are pickier than women.

Chris: Lies. What works for one woman definitely doesn’t work for all. If that’s the case I could just suck on a clit and boom off to space.

 Again, Shaundra and Aleesha’s jaws dropped. He looked across to his brother who looked equally as shocked before he shook his head. It was at that time Chris realized he’d probably had enough to drink.

 Aleesha: So that doesn’t work for every woman you’ve been with?

 He laughs and shakes his head.

 Shaundra: Oh, come on, closed mouths don’t get fed.

Chris: Loose lips sink ships or careers.

Aleesha: The ideals of a good career change over time. Live a little.

 He laughed again but decided to just live a little and deal with it later.

 Shaundra: So. Chris Evans eats the box?

Chris: How can any man be okay with not knowing how to please their woman or not wanting to do it to perfection. I am not above any of it. All of my fingering is accurate.

 Laughter rang out in the small room.

 Aleesha: He eats the box and is an accurate fingerer ladies.

Shaundra: What makes Chris Evans go wild in the bedroom?

Chris: So, a cheat sheet?

Aleesha: Why not. Ninety percent of the world might not ever get to use it so, yeah.

Chris: Okay. Someone who’s adventurous, not just into the basic things like a kiss here, lay on your back and thanks see you next time. I’m definitely a guy who enjoys the tease, make it last. Anticipation can be an intoxicating thing.

Aleesha: So, you’re into foreplay.

Chris: Absolutely.

Shaundra: What about when it comes to the head?

Aleesha: I have an idea. Here.

 Aleesha places a standing mic in front of him and smiles.

 Aleesha: Show us.

Chris: Show you?

Aleesha: Yeah. We always record our podcasts with video, and it goes to our YouTube for those who like a visual with their audio. We told you this. I figured the ladies at home would love to see.

 He looks to his brother and his partner and they’re already laughing no doubt thinking this is what he deserves for throwing censors to the side.

 Chris: What the hell.

 He leans closer to the mic and clears his throat and acts as if he’s about to showcase some superior athletic skills.

 Chris: All right so maybe start with some kisses along the—

Aleesha: Shaft?

Chris: Right, that. Don’t be afraid of it, get in there.

 He allows the ball of the mic to jamb into his cheek before he smears his nose across it taking a deep inhale.

 Chris: Just get in there. Tease it on your lips maybe add some sneak licks and flicks of the tongue before you come up and just put your mouth on it. a lot of women forget the head is super sensitive use that shit. Make him squeal and scrunch his toes.

Again, everyone laughed, and he tried to keep a straight face.

 Chris: If you can’t take it all take what you can, don’t just have your tongue sit there either figure out what to do with it. experiment. Have fun. Don’t forget to use your hands too.

 He grasps the mic with both hands and moves them in opposite directions sort of like a wrench.

 Chris: Make them do the opposite of whatever your mouth is doing. Don’t be afraid to get messy. Sloppy toppy is not a bad thing. Let the spit drip, hell gag a little. Be enthusiastic about that shit. A man can tell an unenthusiastic dick sucker. It’s obvious if you don’t want to slob on the knob. Don’t be the unenthusiastic dick sucker.

 They all couldn’t hold the laughter, including him. As he tried to get back into character, he took another sip of his drink and echoed the same thing he did from the beginning rubbing his face across the mic.

 Chris: Just have fun with it.

Aleesha: And for the finish, are you a facial kind of man or would you prefer to give mouthfuls?

 His smile was wide as he rubbed the back of his neck.

 Chris: Why choose? Depends what the mood of the night is. It has to go somewhere though.

 With that everyone uproariously laughed.

 Shaundra: Wow. Wow. That is all I can say.

 Aleesha and Shaundra both applauded his performance. He bowed his head to them and toward the camera in the corner.

 Aleesha: I think that is all we can take tonight on The Thirsty Hour.

Shaundra: I’d say thirst quenched Aleesha?

Aleesha: Hell no, we’re parched.

Shaundra: Thank you, Chris Evans, for coming by and kicking it with us. Any sistas that wanna step to Chris and represent and do it for the culture and show him what he’s been missing, please. You now have a roadmap to his pleasure.

 The ladies close the podcast and cut the video feed shortly after. They thank him again before he leaves and gets back into the car. On the drive, Scott teases him about him possibly going too far and warning him to be prepared for the fallout tomorrow. Chris knows he’s right but can’t seem to care. Tomorrow was another day and it wasn’t there yet.

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

Review Replies for The Second Law Chapter 15

Thanks to the following awesome people for reviewing chapter 15: LunarMagnolia, RogueSareth, Rosenthorne, KairaB, Lady_Experiment, Star-gazer, AfroditeOhki, EllieDoll, RandomBystander, Sachianna, AGreekDemigod, Wallflwr97, NickyADon, Brynn, Espanholina, Geeeny, dancingmagicmyths, Bieslook, and Justice_not_Revenge! I really appreciate your feedback and read each comment to better understand what people may be looking for in this story and what questions and expectations are. So thank you for helping me to write this story!

You can read individual review replies below! :)

LunarMagnolia: As always, thank you so much for your extensive feedback and thoughts on the last chapter! I’m really excited that you like the inclusion of the generals (I hope to include them more as time goes on), and how Lotor is characterized in this fic. Because I want Lotor to feel familiar? But to also expand his character too, given how much his imprisonment might have altered him. And ahhh I’m so glad you enjoyed the addition of Coran! He just wrote himself in doing that—I didn’t really plan for it, haha. But I’m glad it happened. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

RogueSareth: Thank you so much for continuing to read and review after all of this time. I really appreciate it!

Rosenthorne: Gosh, it does sound nice, haha. I’m making myself hungry with all of this talk about soup. Thank you for returning to read and review!

KairaB: Ahhh thank you for returning to read and review after so long! Sorry that my update schedule for this story has been less than stellar lately, averaging like….one chapter every four months, oof. But it really means a lot that you’ve maintained interest! I really like seeing Allura and Lotor getting closer too. They’re kind of just writing themselves in all of these conversations, so I’m really curious about what they might do next, lol. Thank you again for your reviews!

Lady_Experiment: Yooo! You know Lotor’s secret about the tea is going to come back to haunt him at some point, haha. And yaaas, Coran definitely does take on some Uncle Iroh vibes here. XD Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Star-gazer: Thank you, and thanks so much for continuing to read and review this story!

AfroditeOhki: Oh gosh, yeah, Allura def deserves a whole village taking care of her after all she’s done to protecc them all, guh. And ahh I hope you enjoy the movie selected for this next round—Lotor definitely had to come back to the family here even just for that, lol. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this story still, into year two of its life!

EllieDoll: Thank you so much for that high praise, and guh, I hope this story can continue to help make future days fun! The generals are def fun to write, haha—I’m confident we’ll see more of them, as we will Coran Coran the Healer Man, bless that title omg. And ahhh, I know this story started off as mostly Lotor whump and hurt/comfort, lol, but it really has been fun to reverse the roles and have him comforting our sick princess—while also still bantering with her, lol. As always, thanks so much for all of your support!

RandomBystander: Thank you very much for that kind review, and I’m so happy you’re enjoying the story! I really appreciate your feedback.

Sachianna: Yooo belle + beast vibes is the equivalent of the 100 emoji, blessss!! That’s a great movie, yas, as is Mulan. I would love to see the paladins bursting into song over those, and Lotor’s ears flicking back in just total bewilderment, lol. I really appreciate your support on this story and for reading and reviewing!

AGreekDemigod: asd;jfa;sldfj this is basically your lotura bible? Omg, wow, that is a very high compliment, and I hope to continue to do it justice! I think it’s really fun to write battle scenes, lol, but somehow these characters just kinda write themselves too, so I’m just along for the ride! I definitely think we’ll be seeing more of the generals, and I haven’t forgotten about Adam either! Thank you so much for rereading this story and dropping me a review—it means a lot!

Wallflwr97: Ahh fluff and angst (flangst?) is one of my favorite genres, haha! Yaas, I really enjoy writing this version of Lotor because he’s just got so many stress points to explore, LOL. But gosh, he’s  definitely struggling with how to feel for Allura—maybe watching another movie could help something! As always, thanks so much for reading and reviewing my work. I really appreciate your support too—because that def keeps me inspired and engaged in this ship! So do know just how much you contribute as well! <3

NickyADon: Bless omg, I can see Lotor saying that too and being a very smug brat about it while Allura just starts sputtering, lol. About Keith and Acxa, I definitely do have them set up as a bit of a foil for each other—I always thought that was interesting Acxa’s VA said they were supposed to be shipped, when I was worried that maybe they might be siblings, LOL. And ahhh omg, yaaas I love a Lotor and Shiro friendship—I would have loved to see them grow to be good friends! Thank you so much for always reading and reviewing this story! (And yoo I do love me a more complex and damaged Lotor too, lol!)

Brynn: Yoooo bless you and your extensive reviews, as always! About Allura’s missing piece in her quintessence field, it’s hinted at within the chapter, but Lotor hasn’t put two-and-two together yet either. So it hasn’t been fully revealed yet, but the topic will definitely come back to explain what the effect is on Allura as well. And gosh, I love writing Allura and Lotor arguing, lol—idk why, but they kinda just write themselves bantering, so I go along with it. I think they almost need to argue over even the petty things, given how much tension has been between them, haha. I think it helps to release some of that built-up tension. And ahh we’ll definitely see more of Lotor’s Generals as the story goes along—and more Lotor and team Voltron shenanigans too. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

Espanholina: Gosh yeah, I feel like canon Allura really undervalues her own life a lot, so I feel like Lotor would be incensed by this. But yaaaas dat mate bond is def growing, and we’ll continue to see it result in some things, even in this upcoming chapter! Allura’s missing piece of quintessence will also reappear as a plot point, muahahaha. And yaaas, they’re getting along again finally—even if they are still a bit jabby at times, XD. “Coran’s Ipurim Trade,” loll omg yas please! That is so cute! Thank you so much as always for reading and reviewing!

Geeeny: LOL I got such a giggle from your reviews, bless and thank you! For as serious as the topics are in this story, I also really like to try having things that lighten the mood, so Lotor liking and using cat memes just makes me feel so warm and fuzzy, haha. I really appreciate your high compliments as to my work, and I hope they can continue to be meaningful for you. Thank you again for your support and reviews!

Dancingmagicmyths: Yoooo bless omg! Okay so when I started this fic, I really did intend it to be focused on just Lotor and Allura. But then the more I got to writing the paladins, the more I realized how much fun it is to have a whole found family interacting together, so I’m really excited that you’ve found meaning in those interactions too! Gosh, I just want to see the disaster royals happy as well, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a sucker for hurt/comfort too, LOL. And I think for me, I really wanted to show that it’s not just a one-way street in terms of caring—that Lotor cares for Allura as much as she does him. (Which gives me more opportunity for more hurt/comfort bwahahaha.) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this!!

Bieslook: Oh wow, thanks so much for returning to the Voltron fic archives and taking a chance on this story! Yeah, I was disappointed too at how the show turned out and wanted to explore more about this incredibly complex character and all of his potential interactions with a found family. And this story was originally supposed to just be a “what if” thing, lol, but now it’s stretching out into a full s7-s8 rewrite, haha. I really appreciated your note and kind words. Thank you for your review, and for checking out several of my other stories as well!!

Justice_not_Revenge: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this story; I really appreciate it!

[goldenworldsabound]

What Do You Think?

The moment you’ve all been waiting for, the Eternal Roadtrip proposal fic!

Word count 2156 (about 5 pages), warnings: soft. Very soft. Too soft. Also it starts with a less soft flashback.

"Have you ever thought about marriage?" Wendy asked idly one day, glancing over at him as he drove Bessie towards their next destination.

"Marriage?" He scoffed, scowling. "What would someone like me have to do with something like that?"

Wendy tilted her head, his response only stinging slightly. She had to admit she'd been expecting a response like that. "Why? What do you mean?" She pressed.

He was silent a moment, staring straight ahead as the desert rolled by on either side.

"Well, I guess I never really thought about it much. I'm immortal, and nobody else is, so it felt like it'd be...pointless. That and I...always thought I was..." He trailed off, not willing to finish the sentence. He had figured, for most of his life until he and Wendy had met, that he was impossible to love. Even he knew he was a brat with a penchant for causing trouble, and though he didn't like to admit it there was a lake of trauma bubbling just beneath the surface. Nothing about that sounded appealing. Fuckable, yes, but lovable...he had always assumed the answer would be a hard and fast, "no".

But Wendy had proven him wrong in that, hadn't she? She seemed to love him. Despite the fact that she would one day die and he would continue to live, he would know that he had been loved, not only by his parents, but by someone who chose to love him, to be with him.

Neither of them spoke, Philly deep in his thoughts, Wendy watching him, having determined he didn't intend to finish his sentence.

"And?" She murmured softly, putting her hand on his arm.

He nearly jumped out of his seat, barely keeping himself from swerving at her touch. He hadn't expected it. He'd been so lost in thought he'd forgotten that he'd been in the middle of speaking.

"And- and what the hell do I care about something like that anyway? Just some, some stupid legality issue. I'm a fucking outlaw, and I don't need anybody but me, so. Whatever." He barked back, avoiding her gaze. His words were harsh and spoken as a means of lashing out. He didn't know what to do with the feelings he had. Perhaps he would like to marry her. But that wasn't something he could do, with the way things were. If he got that close to her, when she left him, either through death or through choice, one of which was a certainty, the other a possibility he worried over always, would it hurt that much more if they'd applied this label to it?

But he couldn't really articulate those thoughts, even to himself. They swirled around his mind as amorphous ideas he couldn't quite grasp. Just that the topic of marriage made his stomach clench, and talking about it with her made him feel vulnerable, and he still struggled to cope with that.

"I...see." Wendy replied, putting her hands back in her lap, turning her head to look at the scenery passing by, hiding the fact that tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes. She had expected it, and yet...it still felt like a punch to the gut. But she couldn't argue with the fact that in the end, he would have to go on living without her, even if the rest of what he'd said was obviously a sort of front. So like many of their conversations, it came to a screeching halt as a result of his immortality.

---------------------------------------

Wendy found herself mulling over such memories as she sat in Bessie, one arm over the back of the seat. The large car was parked out in the desert, under the bright full moon. She stared up at it, before looking down at the jewelry box in her hand. She breathed out, closing her eyes for a moment.

That had been a very definitive answer to her at the time. But things had changed since then. They'd been through a lot more together. She was immortal now. He had learned to be more open and vulnerable. They had laughed, and cried, and made so many important memories. Her hand closed tightly around the box. She had felt confident, up until the moment had drawn close, that he would accept. But now, with that memory in the back of her mind, and the moment bearing down on her like a freight train, she found she was afraid.

But there wasn't much time to think on that, as Philly was making his way up from Bessie's underbelly, humming a bit to himself. She slipped the box into her cargo pockets, turning to look over her shoulder at his approach.

"What took ya so long?" She asked with sly grin, ignoring the way her heart pounded at the sight of him. The moonlight on his skin was dazzling.

"Took a bit to find this stuff." He shook the wine bottle slightly, smirking. "We sure hid the nice stuff away." His other hand held the two wine glasses. He handed her one, sitting down next to her, before beginning to pour wine for her, and then himself. "I was surprised you wanted the fancy wine tonight. Special occasion?" He commented, waggling his eyebrows as he set the bottle down on the dashboard.

"It might be." Wendy replied casually, despite the pounding of her heart. "I haven't decided yet." She swirled the wine in her glass before taking a sip, focusing her eyes on the red liquid.

"Oh?" He sat down next to her, snaking an arm over her shoulders, pulling her to him to press a kiss to her cheek. "Now I'm curious."

"Well, you'll just have to be patient." She replied with a giggle, before turning to give him a quick peck on the lips. He sighed, seeming to melt a little. Before he could continue trying to press her for more information, she gestured at the sky. "It's beautiful out tonight, right? Look, over there - I think that might be Orion."

Philly followed her gaze, squinting. "Where...oh! I see it. Huh." He sipped at the wine thoughtfully, letting his eyes flick over to her moonlit face. She was smiling softly, her eyes lit up as she looked into the sky. He stared, noticing details. The curve of her cheeks, the tint of pink on them, her long eyelashes, the fullness of her lips. Her hair, somehow even more vibrant in the white light of the moon.

"And over there is...wow...it's such a clear night you can see the Fugue Bands!" She gestured excitedly.

Philly blinked in confusion, startled out of his focusing gazed. "The- the what?"

"The Fugue Bands!" Wendy grinned at him. "See those three lines of stars? The first band has three stars in it, the second one has four, and the third one has five."

"So it's...a pyramid?" Philly asked, raising a brow.

She pouted at him. "No, no, see, the bands are fairly separated apart, so it's more like, stripes."

He squinted again. "Riiight. Okay. Yeah. I see it." He took a larger gulp of wine, before putting his chin on top of her head with a contented sigh, nuzzling against her, closing his eyes. "You're so fucking cute getting all excited about stars 'n' shit, you know that?"

She blushed. "W-well, you know stars are just...pretty..." She went quiet for a moment. Philly cracked an eye open at the extended silence.

"What is it?" He asked softly.

Wendy sipped at her wine slowly, choosing her words carefully. "When I missed you, I...spent a lot of time looking at the stars. It had always been a hobby of mine, but...I really dug into it, then."

Philly pulled back a bit to look at her. "I didn't learn shit about 'em, but...I was looking at the stars too. Thinking you were out there somewhere, maybe... looking up and thinking of me too." He squeezed her arm gently.

"I was. I can tell you, I was. Pretty much every night." She looked away, bowing her head a bit. "Sorry, all of that was a bit heavy, huh?"

She felt him shrug. "It was, but... it's okay. You never told me that before. If you wanna talk about heavy stuff, I mean... I'm here for ya." He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

"Mm. Well, I don't want to. I mean, I..." she licked her lips, mouth feeling dry as she tried to transition the topic, thinking about the jewelry box in her pocket. "...I..."

Philly tilted his head at her, looking puzzled. "What is it?" She shook her head in response. He furrowed his brows. "Wendy..."

She took a deep breath, and reached into her pocket. "Look, um, maybe this is coming out of nowhere, but, I... I've been thinking about it, a lot, and um..." Her hand closed around the jewelry box. Her palms were sweaty, and she could feel her heart racing. She was aware of the confusion on Philly's face as well.

In a final burst of courage, she set her wine glass down, getting on one knee in front of him. She opened the box facing him, revealing the two rings. 

"Will- will you- will you marry me?!" She blurted the words out, her gaze darting away as she blushed darkly.

Philly seemed to still be processing, staring at her, mouth agape. He made a strangled noise suddenly and his face flushed brightly. Wendy met his gaze, and he was the one to look away.

"You...you wanna marry...me?!" He asked in disbelief, putting his hands over his mouth, feeling how warm his own face was. "But- but I'm just- I'm- I'm not-" how could he express how touched he was, how honored he was? She was right that it had come out of nowhere. But he had never considered that anyone would ever want to marry him. He was a brat, a troublemaker, good for nothing selfish outlaw-

"You're wonderful. You're the love of my life." She smiled at him, looking away again. He raised his gaze at her words, his heart melting.

"Did you make these?" He asked softly, feeling bad for avoiding the question, but also feeling unable to respond. He reached out, gingerly gripping one of the rings between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to his face to look at it.

It certainly looked like she had made them. The quality was there. Each ring was smooth and silver, with a thin line of almost glowing blue, like the color of her shield tech. From the size of this one, it was intended for her.

She nodded, watching him carefully.

"Give me your hand." He said suddenly, holding his own hand out to her. "No, not that one, the other one."

Wendy furrowed her brow, but put her left hand loosely on his. He slipped the ring onto her finger smoothly.

"Yes." He murmured, swallowing.

"Yes?" Wendy repeated nervously, beginning to smile. Tears were starting to prick at the corners of her eyes.

"Yeah. Yes. I...wanna marry you." He blushed again, despite the smile spreading across his face. He reached for the other ring but she grabbed it first, quickly grabbing his hand. She undid his glove, sliding it off, and replacing it with the ring.

"Thank fuck. I was...I was really scared you were gonna...I-I dunno, say no?" She laughed, beginning to cry. "I'm so happy." She got to her feet, and Philly pulled her into his lap.

"I couldn't imagine saying no. I love you so damn much, Wendy. You mean everything to me. You make this immortal life worth living." He pressed his face into her neck, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"I feel the same way." She said back softly, wiping at her tears before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I love you, Philly." They stayed like that for a moment, simply feeling loved together.

Philly pulled his head back to look at her. Fuck...she was so beautiful...and he couldn't imagine being happier.

"Was this the special occasion you mentioned? Why you pulled out the good wine?" Philly questioned with a little smirk.

Wendy blushed and looked away. "Y-yeah...it might've been..."

"What a romantic set up. You're so damn cute." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. She squeaked, putting her hands over her face.

"Can't help being a romantic at heart..." He could hear the pout in her voice.

"Aww, I didn't say it was a bad thing." He gently pried her hands off her face. "Look at me." She did, melting a little at the soft look in his eyes. He leaned in, seeing the way her eyelids seemed to grow heavy as their lips connected. They kissed, softly, tenderly. Lovingly.

Eternity didn't seem so bad after all.

[dibidibifiction]

Criminal In My Mind: Chapter 8

Warning: foul language

Pairings: Choi Minho x Reader; Kim Jonghyun x Kim Kibum (side) Word count: 1.7k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction made for personal entertainment of readers. The writer does not ever intend to offend her readers nor does she aim to spread false information about anyone as to pay any disrespect to the real-life persons whom the characters are based on. She also does not claim ownership to any of the images that are being used.

masterlist Chapter 7

MINHO

I can’t believe he’s still alive. I thought I saw him die. I was there when the building collapsed.

It was Min Hyunjae. It had to be him. I wasn’t mistaken. I’m not crazy. It was him who I saw on campus wearing a hood over his head. And now he’s here? What is he planning to do?

I was fine telling anyone about my childhood. However, what happened between age fifteen and seventeen is a mystery that everyone who knows me never knew came about.

It was the night of my fifteenth birthday at the orphanage and I had just blown out my candle. Bedtime arrived but I was still hoping for my wish to come true. Before I knew it, there was a knock on the window of my bedroom. Turns out it was my big brother, fulfilling his promise that he’d get me out of there. As history confirms, he was successful in doing so, and my wish came true. 

He was already part of the syndicate when he signed me in. I had no idea what it was for, but, at the time, I’d rather go anywhere but back to the orphanage. 

A few months later, new kids are all gathered up in a room to be taught how exactly to do the job. We were also trained to fight. And there, I met Min Hyunjae.

Hyunjae was my only friend. We were inseparable. Both of us were forced to be there and lure girls our age into that dingy old warehouse, where they would be kept captive in barrels and only the universe knows what was next for them. Hyunjae and I stuck together in doing the job. We would go to high school events and club parties to meet with innocent high school girls. We would be punished together every time we failed.

I still remember the night when Hyung brought a specific girl to the building who was quite younger than the ones we usually take in. It didn’t even look like she was a teenager then. Days had gone by when he decided that he couldn’t take it anymore. He told me his plan to call the authorities and escape together with Hyunjae. I was sure it had something to do with the girl, but he never told me what would happen to her if we didn’t go through with the plan. We just knew it was time. 

The night came when we finally put an end to everything. The building was surrounded by police cars. While Hyung was about to get Hyunjae and I was supposed to run to the exits, I decided on a different plan to save the girl. While I was running towards the exit gate with her hand in mine, I heard Hyunjae call out my name, weeping. 

“Hyung is gone,” he cried. As it seemed, my brother was drilled to death for being caught that he was the one who called the cops. Before we even anticipated it, a man grabbed Hyunjae from behind and took him back inside the warehouse. I had no choice but to run before other guys came for me too, dragging the girl with me. 

I successfully took her away from the building and made sure she got to the police’s hands safely. However, my job wasn’t done yet. When I was about to go back for Hyunjae, an explosion rang my ears deaf. Despite it, I still ran into the burning building. I tried to hold onto hope and look for him when a policeman grabbed me, got me under control, and took me into a police car. In that police car was her. 

I still remember the last words I said to her. I looked into her teary eyes and said, “Be safe, okay?” 

After a minute or two, I found an opportunity to run for it. 

I ran all night. I didn’t stop. I didn’t know how long I was running and how far I had come. Eventually, my legs started to tremble and I began to feel light-headed. While I was already trudging, a car hit me from behind, causing my internal bleeding and first life gone. The lady who was driving is now my mother.

. . .

“Here we are.”

I shake myself calm and collected as Y/n rings the doorbell of her parents’ house. I can already hear people jabbering from inside.

A tiny woman with wrinkled but flawless skin answers the door. I now know where Y/n got her cute height. “Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you!” She reaches out her arms to Y/n and gives her a kiss on the cheek.”

“Happy birthday, Mother,” Y/n smiles widely. “Oh, this is Choi Minho. He kindly drove with me all the way here because I was carrying a bag full of old clothes and a box of your heavy vases,” she laughs sarcastically.

“Oh, right, the box,” I just remember. “I’ll be right-”

“No, no, no,” Y/n’s mom insists. “Come on in. We’ll get that box later. Let me take this.” She takes the cake from my hands. “It’s very nice to meet you, Minho,” she looks up to me and smiles.”

“Pleasure is mine,” I smile back at her.

We’re now walking into the house, making our way across the living room, and stepping out to the garden. I watch the place from side to side, full of decorations. Balloons, banners, and not to mention, flowers in strings hung all over the walls besides already having various kinds planted along the grass. 

I’d say this is probably too much for a fifty-fifth birthday but it’s just light and elegant to look at. 

“Wow, this party is no joke,” I say to Y/n in full amazement. 

“Why, thank you for that wonderful compliment! I worked my ass off for this,” a light brown-haired man in a cerulean blue suit appears in front of us.

“Oppa!” Y/n calls out and throws the guy a huge hug. 

‘Oppa’? Who the fuck is this guy? Why do her friends all have to be guys? And why do they have to be so good-looking? Hmm, well, at least I’m way taller than him.

“I’ll leave you kids alone,” Y/n’s mom turns away from us to entertain her other guests.

Wait. I remember him. He was with Y/n and Kibum at the café the morning after she got drunk. I almost didn’t recognize him up close. Back then he had hair that was black and longer.

“Oppa, this is Minho,” she introduces me after their exchange of sweet laughter. “Minho, this is Kim Jonghyun. He’s one of our best friends from college and now Kibum’s fiancé.”

Oh. I process that for a moment. “Oh, hi!” I now show a genuine smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, man! Come with me, let’s get something to drink.”

I look to Y/n, asking with my eyes if it’s okay to leave her for a bit. 

“Go ahead,” she mouths as Jonghyun is already pulling me with him towards the bar.

As we walk across the garden, here comes Kibum, whose hair is now darker and longer to the top of his ears.

“Look who’s here! If it isn’t Choi Minho,” he sounds like he had a lot to drink already. “Hey, babe,” he kisses Jonghyun on the lips, then turns to me.

“Hey, Kibum! Having fun, huh?”

“You bet. The drinks are amazing!” he shouts despite our close distance. “I’ll catch you guys later.” He waves flirtatiously at Jonghyun and makes his way to Y/n. Before I know it, they disappear into the crowd.

“Great party. It’s sweet of you to do this for Y/n’s mom,” I give Jonghyun my praise.

“Thanks. Professor by day, party planner by night.”

“Nice. What do you teach?”

“I teach Music and Song Writing at the state university,” he informs me. “I hear you’re an artist yourself. What do you study?”

“I major in Photography. I wouldn’t call myself an artist yet. I just started going to school a year ago.”

“That’s great. You should be proud,” he pats me on the shoulder.

I thought I was done being amazed by Y/n, but it’s no wonder why many people love her, who are just as warm as her.

Jonghyun and I continue to exchange topics about arts and music when a tall man, taller than me, with graying hair and a drink in his hand approaches us. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Hello,” Jonghyun bows to him, greeting him formally.

“Thanks for the party, Jonghyun. These cocktails are great!”

“Not at all, Dr. L/n,” Jonghyun says. “Let me introduce you to my and Y/n’s friend, Choi Minho.” He then looks at me, “Y/n’s father is a surgeon.”

“A pleasure to meet you, doctor,” I shake the man’s hand, trying to decide whether to be delighted or intimidated.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Minho. Y/n calls us almost everyday and you’re all she talks about.”

I can feel my face flush. 

. . .

Time passes by slowly, only because I haven’t seen Y/n in a minute. I have to say, her parents are not as bad as she told me while we were in the car. Now that I’ve met them, I can’t imagine them as being strict and suffocating as she described. 

Y/n’s father just told me a funny story of how, one night, she came home drunk during her college days, she burst everything out to them. About how unhappy she was that they wouldn’t accept her for who she is. To this day, she doesn’t remember it and they’re trying to keep it that way. 

With a drink in my hand, I’m now just admiring her from afar talking to her parents and other guests. I really did make a good choice of helping her carry that big heavy box. Now, I just think, damn, she’s far more stunning than how I was imagining when I didn’t get to be with her in the last couple of weeks. I thought looking after her through her window is already enough, but now, I can’t help but want more of her. I’m more than happy and esteemed to enter her world and hopefully, eventually, I’ll be a part of it.

Chapter 9   

[docholligay]

The Time Traveler’s Bullshit

@katrani comissioned me to write out my full review of The Time Traverler’s Wife, my most hated book of the year thus far, and I feel like it won’t be dethroned. nearly 3,000 words and I skipped a whole section I was going to write about, ENJOY

Three dollars and ninety nine cents will buy you a Big Mac. It will buy you four hours of downtown parking in my city. Three dollars and ninety-nine cents will buy you a latte made with burnt coffee at Starbucks. For Three dollars and ninety-nine cents, I can get a can of terrible beer and have a dollar left over for tip. All of which would have been a better choice than what I ultimately spent that three dollars and ninety-nine cents on, which was this book. 

I am careful to read hyped books out of their time, so that I’m not influenced by something that has been so lauded no book could ever hope to reach those heights. So when this first came around, and I saw many women talking about how much they had loved it, I figured I would just read it later. I buy books used, so this is generally what I do even outside of worrying about being affected. 

I finally picked this book up after a reader of mine told me it reminded them of my writing. 

After reading it, several years after all the hype, I have one question: Are women who fuck men okay? 

(“Why not just straight women, Doc?” you may rightly ask me, and I, unfortunately, am forced to answer that I know a number of bisexual women who also enjoyed this book, leading me to believe that the trouble is far worse than previously imagined.)

I found this book to be borderline insulting, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have claimed this book was written by a man. The entire way through I felt the constant assault of the idea that this reminded someone of ME. What have I been doing wrong all my life, I asked? I should probably give up writing. 

Let’s go into the book itself!

The core of the novel hinges around the idea that Henry goes through time without wanting to and with no consious conrol, and so in a sense lives his life out of order. This is a fascinating idea but for the fact that book’s main hinge is the relationship between Clare and Henry. 

Who Henry meets, as an adult out of time, when she is six. 

And proceeds to groom her to be his wife someday. 

Oh, it isn’t put that way, of course, it’s simply that they end up married and so, I suppose the author might say, it’s only natural that Henry interact with her when he comes the “the Meadow” nearby where she lives. But this sort of “things are already decided” that the author is extremely fond of does not remove this intensely squicky framework from their relationship. Henry begins with Clare when she is six years old, and it comes on VERY fast that they are supposed to get married. She is at a sleepover, still as a literal child, ELEVEN YEARS OLD, when the Ouija board spells out his name as the boy who likes her. 

The book takes pains to describe how he won;t have sex with her until she’s 18, but how difficult it is for a thirties to forties man not to have sex with her when she’s 15, 16, 17. I want to say there might be a part where he describes it when she’s 14, but I can’t find it in the book right now, so we’ll pretend it’s not there. “But they’re married in the furute!” one might say, listen if my wife had to resist having sex with sixteen year old me, and didn’t see me as a fucking child, I would think she was gross. It’s gross for a thirty-something to forty -something dde to struggle not to fuck a teenager, period, end of story. 

All of this is wrapped in the book’s idea that this is romantic, instead of the idea that Clare’s “date with destiny” is tragic. She doesn’t ever have a boyfriend, because she is “waiting for Henry”. She sleeps with one of Henry’s friends before he and Clare ever officially “meet” and bursts into tears because she feels as if she has been unfaithful. Meanwhile, Henry is out having girlfriends like no one’s business, and “Well Doc he doesn’t know” why is Clare the one who has to bear this arranged marriage? 

Clare herself even alludes to the way she’s being groomed to be the woman he wants in a way that I DO NOT THINK the author intended, as the author is desperately wrapped up in the idea that this is sexy and romantic and not deeply fucking unsettling. 

Pretentious-ass Henry is dropping German into a casual conversation with a thirteen year old so that you know he is learned and cool, and explain that it’s from Rilke, one of their (note: Not your, but OUR) favorite poets. 

Clare responds: “You’re doing it again!” 

“What?” 

“Telling me what I like.” Clare burrows into my lap with her feet. Without thinking I put my feet on her shoulders, but then that seems too sexual, somehow, and I quickly take Clare’s feet in my hands again and hold them together with one hand in the air as she lies on her back, innocent and angelic with her hair spread nimbus-like around her on the blanket. (Sidebar: I can only fucking imagine that the sort of people that are into this are the sort of people who think nothing at the idea of some Victorian gentleman marrying his attractive young ward, as apparently there’s no problem with having seen someone as a child and then having them marry you! It’s not deeply fucked up at all!)  …..

“Henry?” 

“Yes?”

“You are making me different.” 

“I know.” 

These brief asides are meant to make us feel that Henry has done enough to assuage his guilt, that we are meant to forget that what he is doing is wrong. The book goes so far as to have sixteen year old Clare be the aggressor with a 37 or so year old Henry, as a way of trying to tell us, “Oh look none of this can be Henry’s fault” and an absolutely cringeworthy section where Henry goes and beats up a kid who took Clare on a date and proceeded to assault her. (She dates him to prove she’s not a dyke wow what a great book and thank you for reminding us that Clare never wants to see anyone else for her own sake even as a teenager, very healthy)

All of which would make me a hell of a lot more mad if I managed to like Clare even a little bit. But it’s not at all surprising that I don't--Clare is hardly a character in this story so much as she’s a cardboard cutout that exists for Henry. 

Each of her desires and thoughts revolves around him, from the time she’s a child, save for minor pouting incidents when Henry either won’t tell her something, or disagrees with her. But she always caves, but for the exception of having a child, another horrible thing we’re meant to feel sorry for them in, but I, at least, never really do, as they know the problem, they know how horribly Henry’s life has been affected, and yet they persevere. I find myself asking why in the fuck they don’t use donor sperm, but I suppose that would not fulfill Clare’s real use as being Henry’s vessel. It might have been very touching to write about their experience of infertility if they were likeable at all, or the chapters were anything but flat and emotionless despite dealing with really high-emotion topics. It’s essentially Clare saying “I want a baby inside me” and having a series of miscarriages. I’ve read more compelling narratives on online message boards. 

Not to mention when Henry suggests adopting and Clare says “That would be pretending” bitch fuck ALL THE WAY OFF. I repeat: WE ARE MEANT TO LIKE THIS CHARACTER. NOTHING ABOUT HER IS SHOWN AS A NEGATIVE. 

A fair amount of time in the book is spent describing how hot Clare is, and it’s a bit cringey to read about a super hot redhead with great tits and also rich, who’s a visual artist, and then flip to the back and see a redheaded visual artist as the author. It’s not that I don’t believe that authors are ever allowed to find themselves in a character, quite the contrary, but one hopes that there would be a level of detachment or at least plausible deniability. But no, Clare is nothing but wish fulfillment for the author, but unfortunately cannot fulfill any of ours. I get the sense that these characters are far more complex and layered in Niffenegger’s head, but they fall completely flat on the page, sketches of annoying human beings. 

Clare seems to have been raised in an Austen novel, where the home is noted for its architecture and we ‘dress for dinner’ which could be intensely compelling if they ever went anywhere with it. But we don’t. Because of course Clare’s raising in a straightlaced, extremely wealthy family has no affect on her and she is a very cool girl who is laid back and likes the right music and poetry. (Sidebar: The name dropping in this novel is SO TIRESOME. Every band, artist, poet, etc has to be named and identified so your are aware of how absolutely well-read and smart and cool Niffenegger is) 

The we’re meant to feel for Henry when her family finds out that he is half-Jewish which I suppose is meant to be shocking when he doesn’t practice or isn’t different in any marked way from her family? The character has no Jewishness in him but as a side note and dare I say for shock value. Her family isn’t even written as believably against the union, as no one can resist super cool hipster protag Henry DeTamble (Even his name sounds INSUFFERABLE) 

The problem, of course, is that the very wealthy can buy their way out of many problems, meaning that an author has to have a particular deftness of hand in order to make you feel something for them. This is not that author. Any sympathy one might have for Clare goes immediately out the window when she’s complaining about having only a small room for a studio in which to create, while she’s living off the INTEREST from her trust fund, and hiring a cleaning service because neither of them is willing to vacuum. Not her trust fund. The INTEREST from her trust fund, which means there must be so much fucking money in there we all want to scream. 

Of course, Henry goes into the future and wins the lottery so they can give her a new studio, I shit you not this is a thing that happens in a novel where we are supposedly meant to identify with the characters and feel for them. They buy a nice house with a separate studio in the backyard, not even in the house, just a large brick edifice where Clare can do whatever she wants because these people don’t have consequences until Henry’s death, and by the time he dies, we’re all thanking God that at least there’s one thing they can’t weasel out of. The book has the audacity to have them, later, describe having a private box as one of their “little indulgences” friends a private box is the realm of $1,800 dollars for ONE showing of an opera, and while I am a believer in the good of occasionally saving up to do something that is an experience, there is no way I would describe that as an ‘indulgence” but these people have such wealth that they never need worry about anything at all, except the central point, which is that Henry drifts in and out of time and we would like to sentence a child to that. 

Henry himself is a collection of traits rather than a person--it is so important to the author that we know he is a real punk with great musical taste, that he knows German and poetry and Chicago--it’s all rather a laundry list of the long-haired, tall, punkish but very classically learned boyfriend Niffenegger would like to have rather than someone who has a heart or a mind.  But the luck of it all is that she clearly cares about henry far more than she does Clare, and so he gets a bit of fleshing out with a tragic anime backstory and all that, and from time to time we see bursts of real humanity in his character. 

Their love, even if it were not burdened by the exceptional trouble of CLARE BEING GROOMED AS A CHILD, has the weight of air. Henry is a womanizer with a drug problem, but then he meets Clare, hot rich redhead who proves she’s known him her whole life, and suddenly the magic swelling violins are in the background, love has found its day, and no more is ever said about it.The book refuses to get anywhere deep into how they feel about things and why, it is only glancing blows that seem to suggest an emotion rather than allowing ourselves to get into their minds.  

The bulk of the description of their love is sex. Sex sex sex. I get it, they are hot for each other, I am trying very hard to get over the fact that they are married when Clare is 22 and Henry is thirty, but you’re giving me nothing to pin their relationship on but the fact that they enjoy railing each other and Henry has been around since Clare was a child. I don’t understand the why of their relationship even once, it all seems so accidental, and I wanted there to be a lesson, or something to be said about humanity and relationships, but I found nothing save for maybe the idea that women are fully engrossed in their relationships and men basically luck into them and then drop out from time to time? But even that is far far deeper than I think the novel deserves credit for. 

The side characters are somehow worse, mainly racist stereotypes or one note characters who ALSO exist to have their lives enhanced by the protagonists. Even their friends only exist so that Gomez can have the hots for Clare for years, because Everyone Wants To Bone Clare. 

The writing itself is terrible too, written in the style of a script, almost, rapidly shifting between first person narratives in a matter of one or two paragraphs, often, helpfully telling who is talking by, I shit you not, putting “CLARE:” or “HENRY:” before the paragraphs, so we can enjoy who it is that is navel gazing and picking over the conversation without saying anything really, save for how badly Henry wants to fuck his super hot wife, who may or may not currently be a teenager, and how desperately Clare loves him, and has loved him since she was a child, for reasons that remain unclear. 

It’s padded out and ridiculous and reads like some of the drafts when I am being a complete garbage pile, and thank you to the person online who had already typed this out so I didn’t have to:

Henry:

Clare is wearing a wine-colored velvet dress and pearls. She looks like a Botticelli by way of John Graham: huge gray eyes, long nose, tiny delicate mouth like a geisha. She has long red hair that covers her shoulders and falls to the middle of her back. Clare is so pale she looks like a waxwork in the candlelight. I thrust the roses at her. "For you."

Please try to read that with a straight face and get back to me, i could not manage it, and it was early on the book, and this sort of thing goes on for pages, if you don’t like hearing about how pale Clare is, and that she has red hair, her two most dominating character traits, you are in for a very, very rough time. 

The narrative voice of the characters is identical. I mean, I suppose I should thank whatever god is responsible for this clusterfuck for the CLARE and HENRY bits because otherwise I would have no clue who was talking from moment to moment. Does NIffenegger think all people think alike? That their internal monologues are the same? It seems to me she must because I can’t figure any other way that one could write two characters and have them, even when their opinions differ, sound like the exact same person. 

I did enjoy the letter at the end of this story--and this is where I saw where my reader connected me to this book--it almost seems as if it was written for a different novel, a novel about a doomed love between two people that truly loved each other and had rich inner lives. It’s beautiful, or it would be totally removed from this novel. 

This review has, in itself, gotten to be as rambling and listing as the novel, and so I will let it rest here. I read incredibly fast. This took me something like five or six hours to read. It was a waste of every single one of those hours and I wish I had gotten a Big Mac instead. Save yourself, save six hours, save three dollars and ninety-nine cents, and read literally anything else. 

[kathyprior4200]

Hidden Hazbin Sins

NOT FOR KIDS! NO COPYRIGHT INTENDED.

For many of the residents in Hell, it was an average day of chaos, murder, sex, drugs, and drama. Poverty-stricken demons smuggled food from dumpsters while others snuck into darkened stores. More disturbingly, other demons even resorted to cannibalism on unlucky citizens who had been killed in gang fights, run over, or stabbed to death by Exterminator harpoons.

The Happy (Hazbin) Hotel seemed to be running fairly smoothly with the addition of the clean-freak cyclops demon Niffty and even the indifferent gambling alcoholic Husk. Charlie, the blond-haired demon princess, stood outside wearing a red bellhop uniform complete with gold buttons, gold threads hanging around the brim of her small red hat and a ruby apple necklace around her neck. Her face was white, eyes yellow, and red blushes were off to the sides of her face. She remembered a week ago when the hotel first opened, cutting a tied up red piece of ribbon with a large pair of scissors, the crowd clapping half-heartedly. Currently, she was holding the door for a line of demons waiting to get in.

“Welcome to the Happy Hotel!” said the princess cheerfully. Razzle and Dazzle were busy lifting up luggage and placing them on a rolling cart to go up into the elevator. Though many of the demons rolled their eyes and snarled at Charlie, she kept up her positive demeanor.

Inside, a banner hung over a front desk with several colorful balloons and streamers off to the sides.

“No more sin, share a big grin!” Charlie recited her motto. “Vaggie will check you in and get you situated at the front desk.”

She mentioned to her moth demon friend, who saw her and blushed with a small smile, blowing her a quick kiss. Vaggie turned to a light blue dragon in the front.

“I have a reservation for a room with a balcony,” the dragon said, his wings folded. He showed her his cell phone in his claw which showed the order he had made online.

Vaggie looked it over and nodded. “Two nights here, room 666, with a cost of…”

Charlie looked over at Vaggie. “They don’t have to pay any souls. This place is free for the first one hundred customers!”

“What?!” Vaggie exclaimed in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because I just came up with it today,” she explained. “If we are to encourage demons to come here to get better, why not make it free for them?”

“Your Dad won’t be happy about that.”

“I know. But it’s my hotel, and I might as well leave a friendly impression.”

“Move it, bitch,” scoffed a green snake-like demon with a pink dress and dark green hair who shoved Charlie aside with her hand. Charlie’s eyes glowed red for a second, but she took a deep breath. Vaggie pointed her harpoon weapon at the snake lady and glared. Heeding her warning, the snake huffed, flipped back her straggly green hair and moved on to her room.

Charlie shrugged, as she continued to hold the door. “It’s a start, right?”

Vaggie sighed and continued with her next customer, a werewolf. “Room 66 is currently occupied. 63 is available if you’d like to stay on that floor.”

Dazzle flew into the room, lifted down one of many old fashioned blood-stained key and placed it on the desk.

Vaggie handed the key to the brown furry demon. “The bar is over down the hall to your left. Charlie’s Fun and Games event will start at 7:00pm in the dance room. Ring your room bell and Niffty will fetch you breakfast in the morning. If you have any questions, just ask me or Charlie.”

“I have a question,” said a familiar sounding voice as the werewolf left for his room. The white spider demon Angel Dust strutted up to the desk, with his usual white and pink striped outfit on and pink gloves on four of his hands.

“One second,” Vaggie said. She turned to him. “What, Angel?” Vaggie deadpanned.

“Do you know where the drug vending machine is here? I want some Angel Dust and I’m getting tired of those purple popsies to be honest.”

“What’s in a name!” someone commented from in the line.

Vaggie crossed her arms. “No drugs are allowed here. It’s problematic enough that alcohol is being served here. We don’t need any more of your ideas. I’m busy here!”

Angel continued, “What we also need is a stage with new poles for dancing on. Italian electro music, and a secret strip club in the basement! Man, that’d be the shit!”

A black dinosaur-like demon growled at Angel. “Go fuck yourself, slut.”

Angel just grinned widely. “Only if you watch me, hot stuff.”

“Get out!” Vaggie bellowed, pointing toward the door.

“Oh well,” Angel shrugged. “Time to make some moves on Husk. It’s so easy to warm up to him when he’s drunk…”

Angel happily scurried away while Vaggie face-palmed. “Someone kill me a second time,” she muttered out loud.

“Can I do it?” asked the snake demon, who peered out of her room.

“No!” Charlie and Vaggie yelled at the same time, startling the snake who ducked back into her room. Charlie and Vaggie laughed from across the room. Almost losing hold of the door, Charlie grabbed onto the handle again, smiling back at the visitors.

 Later on that evening, the bar was packed full of demons scattered around in every direction. A group of dragons were sitting together, enjoying flaming spirits of liquor that Husk had brought to them. A family of red imps were playing cards over by a booth. Only a group of doll demons seemed to enjoy the rainbow decorated karaoke section that Charlie had set up. They sang at the top of their lungs and danced in a circle.

“See? They’re getting it!” Charlie smiled, sitting next to Vaggie. Vaggie let out a small smile. “Well, I’m impressed, Charlie. Maybe your idea will be successful in the long run.”

Charlie brushed Vaggie’s long white hair from her light gray face, careful not to touch the pink X over her friend’s eye. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Angel Dust giggled under his breath nearby and began to do a slutty dance on a table.

“Anyone have a lampshade I could use?”

A random one hit him in the face. “Thanks, dick!” he called putting it over his head.

“Wow, he remembered my name,” smiled a blushing Dick, an orange-faced demon with an elongated forehead shaped like…

“Will you cut that out?” Husk hissed as he glanced at Angel shaking his butt as the demons laughed and jeered.

“You like that?” he asked, hearing Husk’s voice. “I figured you would, deep down.”

“Son of a crackhead,” Husk muttered.

“Heard that, cat in the hat! Sadly, it’s true, though.”

The two girlfriends relaxed as the demons chatted (and fought) among themselves. Husk drank more booze behind the counter in several gulps. Niffty scurried to dust off cobwebs, mop the floors, and carry any remaining luggage to the room or outside.

Charlie stared at the nearby stage, the microphone vacant.

“Say…has anyone seen Alastor?”

“Nope, not me,” replied Angel, still dancing with the lampshade on his head. “Then again, I can’t see much of anything.”

“Take that damn thing off!” said Vaggie. “It’s unprofessional!”

“Sorry, tots, can’t hear you over the sound of how sexy I am!” he replied.

“Not me,” Vaggie said.

“Nor me,” said Husk. “Thank Lucifer. That radio punk was getting on my last nerves. Glad I don’t have to hear any more dad jokes tonight.”

“But he always comes on Fridays and the weekend,” Charlie says. “And it’s a new moon on Earth, I think. He always comes up with new tricks to share with us during that time.”

“When’d you get into that stuff?” Husk asked.

“Human studies,” Charlie replied. “Oh what it could mean to be a human for the first time…”

“It’s a shithole if you ask me,” Husk replied. “Lost chances, war, depression, the whole nine yards.”

“Or life can be good,” said Vaggie, “Until, you get…assaulted by a bunch of masculine pigs.”

An old pig demon oinked at her in anger and slurped up a mud smoothie.

“Heh, no offence?”

“It’s alright, Vaggie,” said Charlie. “Perhaps when we go to Heaven, we’ll learn more about all kinds of people.”

“I can’t hear you,” Vaggie mentioned.

Charlie snapped her fingers and the noise in the bar dulled own to a fading hum. The spell would last for several minutes. For now, it was just Vaggie and Charlie talking in the crowded room, no one else noticing.

“You’re the daughter of the devil and a seducing being,” Vaggie pointed out. “You may not ever get redeemed.”

“But how do we know?” Charlie asked. “Think about it. My dad got sent down from Heaven for going to the dark side. There has to be a way for demons to rise up from Hell! There’s like two sides of a large coin.”

“You’re forgetting Earth and tons of other places,” Vaggie said. “Even if that would be the case, how good would we have to be to get sent to Heaven or even back to Earth?”

“Perhaps by showing more…humanity.” Charlie said, wistfully.

“Ugh, not this again.” Vaggie leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “Look. I’m willing to be open minded about the possibility of Heaven existing. It’s something I learned about in my life, after all. But to think these demons have some connection to humans…”

Charlie cut her off, lowing her hands sideways slightly in a downward motion to make her point. “They not only used to be souls…they are still souls! Deep down, as long as they’re somewhat alive, they retain some amount of their human characteristics from their past lives!”

“Not fuckin’ buying it.”

“Vaggie, it only makes sense. I’ve seen it for myself when my family showed me the Purge. They briefly showed their human forms before they were killed. This proves that they aren’t true monsters. They need help. They need love, just like everyone else. Dad and Mom don’t want to believe it, but…I have a feeling they also know it to be true.”

Charlie continued, changing the topic into something more light-hearted. “Perhaps Heaven has animal-like bipedal creatures as well, but nicer and fluffier! Maybe with angel wings. Humans and animals are everywhere, within many angels and demons!”

Vaggie held on firmly to Charlie’s shoulders, and stared her straight in the eye, raising her voice slightly more toward a normal tone. “Charlie, listen to me. I, too, have…seen things. Earth, Heaven, Hell…they’re all different. From what I heard, angels belong in Heaven and demons belong in Hell. The evil humans come down here, already dead. Living humans belong on Earth. That’s just the way it works.”

Something in Vaggie’s eyes told Charlie that her friend wasn’t entirely convinced of her own spoken words.

“Swear on your afterlife…for your own safety and sanity, you will not tell anyone else about this.”

Charlie looked around, eyes wide. “Do you think…some demons will want to take advantage of me and…my position as heir?”

“Finally out of your childhood comfort zone,” Vaggie mentioned with a solemn nod. “Please, Charlie. I will do whatever I can to help you redeem these sinners. But, promise me, you will be smart and always watch your back. You can’t trust everyone.” Vaggie stared at her scarred chest and put a hand up to her eye. “I learned that lesson the hard way.”

Charlie’s soundproof spell had ended, and the noise of the bar came back in full force.

“Ya girls done?” Angel asked, white hair frazzled from dancing and wearing the lampshade.

“Yep,” said Charlie. “Anything you need?”

“Other than a whiff of coke and a thrill of a fight, I’m good.” He picked up a cherry from a drink and sucked on it.

“Time to go see Cherri Bomb. She’s making actual cherry bombs for our next turf attack! Catch you guys later!” He winked and swaggered out of the room.

“Why did you bring him here, again?” Vaggie asked with a sigh.

Charlie answered. “He was clean for two weeks, and now…well, I’m going to give him another chance. It’s the only thing to do.”

“Whatever you say,” Vaggie answered. She held on gently to Charlie’s hand and the princess squeezed back affectionately.

 “But seriously, though…where is Alastor?” Charlie asked, more to herself, looking back at the stage. “He was a big help to starting the hotel and it was fun dancing with him.”

“I swear I’ll gut him if he ever makes a move on you again,” Vaggie seethed. “Let’s forget about that cocky bastard and enjoy ourselves.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Charlie smiled. “But I have faith that he’ll change for the better. You’ll see.”

  The red neon Pentagram symbol in the sky was the only thing that lit up the time that was considered night time. Though the sky was constantly red, the demons still kept track of time in their afterlives, despite the fact that such a concept may not exist outside of Earth. The one thing that died harder than any sinner was old human habits.

Two small imp-like demons by the names of Tee and Vee wondered around in the shadows, Tee holding a small black cell phone. Tee was short, fat and dark purple in color, while Vee was thin and red. Both had horns, clawed feet and hands as well as small pointed tails. Both were wearing black suits with blue Wi-Fi logos on them. They were mini mercenaries and spies hired by none other than Vox, the TV demon. On this night, they were sent on another one of their missions.

They spoke in New York accents or perhaps Australian accents. It was hard to tell because they talked so fast.

“Another night, another dollar,” Tee said. He reached for a small arrow and threw it at an unsuspecting ogre. The beast roared as the arrow exploded against his foot. The ogre fell to the ground and Tee jumped up toward his face. In one swift motion, mid jump, he got out a spear from his utility belt and stabbed it right though the ogre’s large yellow right eye. Vee stepped in to finish the job, finally ending the monster’s agonized yells.

The duo had their gruesome eye kabab snack on a spear as they walked along.

“Need at least 66 kills tonight,” said Tee. “That should be doable.”

“But remember what Vox really wants,” Vee reminded him. “A chance to overthrow his rival overlords. Just think, we’ll be internet stars after we help Vox conjure Hell!”

Tee elbowed him sharply. “He will get all the credit, jackass, not us. We’re just doing this ‘cause we have no choice.”

“Oh, don’t be so glum, bum,” Vee said. “Though yours is quite big.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Anyway, we’ll still be recognized in some form. Perhaps he’ll be especially pleased with us and beckon us over to his bedroom…”

Tee shook his head, clenching his purple fists. “All Vox does is take selfies with Velvet and talk dirty to Valentino on the phone. He gets the good life, while we’re out here doing his dirty work.”

“Makes it easier on him,” Vee said. “He’s busy making plans, after all. You know about the New World Order? Project Mech Tech? Several secret plans of his involving keeping everyone glued to their screens. Brainwashing, propaganda, convincing ads. It’s already just as powerful as it is in the human world. ‘Xept down here, Vox can bend others to his will.”

“Like…us?”

“Those who are either sheep or foolhardy enough to stand up to him.”

“But they’re demons, not sheep.”

“Tee, you retarded, ass!” He punched his college in the face and the two demons rolled down the street in a snowball spiraling brawl.

They yelled and grabbed onto each other’s tails, biting and screeching insults.

“Tee, pee!”

“Bum, scum!”

“Gas ass!”

“Slut, mutt!”

Nearby, a smoking female hellhound barked in disapproval.

“Butt…what?”

Vee stopped and stared straight ahead.

“Coward, what’s your pro…” Tee began, before noticing the direction the orange demon was looking toward.

“…blem?”

They stood up and saw a long black alleyway in front of them. The ground was littered with broken glass, cigarette butts, and the occasional skull here and there. Graffiti was spray-painted on the brick walls in various colors of red, blue, yellow, and green. They were mostly expletive words, nude women, and crying demon stick figures surrounded by flames. Further up above, someone had spray painted a rainbow with sun rays coming out from it. A foul scent of garbage and rotten flesh permeated the space.

Vee peered into the darkness and heard the faint sound of footsteps and humming. A distinct feel of…electricity? ... hiding among the shadows.

 Tee shuddered, holding up his clawed hands. “No, no, no, no, I ain’t goin’ in there.”  

“I sense a powerful presence,” Vee stated. “If we don’t take a risk, who will? Besides, if we don’t show up with some special report this time, Vox will have our heads.”

“He…wouldn’t…right?”

Vee grabbed onto Tee’s plump arm. “Just come on!”

“Okay…whoa, slow down,” he called as he was dragged along.

They slowed their pace as they reached the cracked dead end. The path turned off to the left, ending in another wider dead end further away. The walls were on either side of both paths with no windows or doors. Well…save for an old wooden door that was behind a pair of old curtains made from circus tent flaps.

A silhouette of a demon stood in front of the door, drawing a pentagram symbol in the air. A little golden keyhole appeared to the right and a matching old-fashioned key was pulled out from a pocket. The key went in and the door opened with a slow creek.

“Let’s go,” Vee whispered. They followed the figure not too far behind from the door.

They continued walking, occasionally glancing up at the red sky above them. The eerie silence was soon replaced with humming from the demon in front of them. It sounded distinctly male and appeared to be a jolly tune. Vee couldn’t quite name the song the man was singing, but it made him feel strangely at ease. It reminded him of those songs he heard at the circus or at musicals he attended with his parents. Not that it mattered now, since his parents were dead due to the so called “angels.” Tee on the other hand, was quivering, his legs itching to race right out of there.

“Come on, man,” Tee whispered. “Let’s kill this demon and leave.”

Vee let out a silent gasp and tapped Tee on the shoulder. “Look.”

They both stopped as the figure’s footsteps ceased further ahead.

For a moment, all was dark and quiet.

A snap of fingers was heard and five white candles were lit up at the same time. They were at the end of the alleyway, this time surrounded by circular concrete walls. The man was standing in the center of a crimson pentagram surrounded by a red circle that was drawn on the ground, taking up most of the space. The white candles glowed with yellow light at the ends of the five points.

“Whoa, is that who I think it is?” whispered Tee, so low that he could barely be heard. He held up his phone and started to record.

 The figure was revealed in the candlelight: a slender man wearing a tattered pinstriped red dress coat, trailing along slightly behind him. Dark shoes with red deer hoof-prints on the bottom soles. Red and black fur upon his head with large furry deer-like ears with black tips. Small dark antlers sticking out from between his ears. Thin neck and slander arms and legs. A vintage microphone staff stood in his right hand.

“Yes,” Vee said in a hushed tone. “The Radio Demon.”

Alastor walked over to a large deer skull stained with blood, antlers still intact. The trophy was attached to the wall via an old wooden plaque. He walked over and slowly knocked on the bone forehead seven times. It was a “shave and a haircut” sounding knock.

The Radio Demon stepped back as the skull’s slanted eyes glowed red. A scroll dropped out from its mouth but with a wave of his hand, it vanished. A spiral symbol in the center of the pentagram lit up: a universal symbol for a portal. The demon hummed some more.

With Tee still recording, Vee excitedly reached for his phone. He had to alert Vox. At last, the duo would be getting their big break…and a hefty sum of souls for their night’s work.

He began to rapidly text, his phone set to silent, the brightness of the screen turned as low as possible:

Vee: “Lord Vox, it’s V, T of 19:29. Radio Demon’s hideout found. Located at west end of…”

“A-CHOO!”

Tee sneezed out loud into his arm, phone in his other hand. The Radio Demon’s ears twitched at the noise. The humming stopped. The candles went out.

Tee and Vee rammed their backs against the nearest wall, not daring to move or even breathe. They heard the shuffling of feet, and the subtle sound of the microphone staff moving slightly side to side.

For an entire minute, nobody made a sound. Vee turned to Tee and both of them moved their eyes toward the other direction. Vee held up three fingers then mimicked tiptoeing side-ways. Getting the message, Tee followed Vee, shuffling three quiet steps to the right. After ten seconds, they moved again. Tee still recorded with a shaky hand in the dark, while Vee was careful not to drop his phone.

Vee pointed toward the exit and Tee nodded. Vee began to tip-toe from the wall, inch by inch making his way toward the open wooden door.

A slow creaking sound made then briefly freeze. For some reason, the door wasn’t moving.

A chilling sensation crept to the backs of the demon’s necks. Both of them turned back to look through the darkness.

 But the only lights they saw in the distance were the glowing red radio dials in the Radio Demon’s two eyes. The creaking sound was, in fact, the demon’s head slowly turning backward to stare right at the terrified faces of Tee and Vee.

SLAM!

The wooden door whammed shut, causing Tee and Vee to jump and yelp.

The world turned into a psychedelic mess of vibrant colors. Reds, blues, and greens morphed together in the sky and along the walls. Shadows of deer heads dripping blood danced along a red-lit wall like shadow puppets.

“Open the door!” Vee cried, punching against the wood, which was now colored a strange yellow.

“There’s no handle!” Tee replied, kicking at it in vain.

“Ack! I’m blue!” said Vee, staring at his light blue body in the strange light.

“I think you’re seeing red!” Tee replied, failing to notice his fat crimson body.

Vee grabbed daggers and bomb arrows and threw them rapidly in front of him. The Radio Demon dodged them all and merged into the shadowy ground.

“He’s…gone?” Tee asked, looking through his phone camera.

Vee held on tight his phone and glanced back at the texts, finger hovering over the “send” button.

The red dial-eyes emerged right in front of their faces, rows of sharp yellow teeth appearing below. Though the sudden loud radio static that filled their ears, Tee and Vee screamed. A voodoo spirit shaped like a black lizard with white eyes snatched the phone from Vee’s hand, dropping it by Alastor’s left foot before scurrying off. He brought down his pointed shoe and crushed the device to pieces, sparks flying, screen cracked. The remainder of the pieces burst into flames and vanished.

Before Vee could blink, two black tentacles sprouted rapidly from holes in the ground and latched themselves onto the demon’s arms, pinning them back. He struggled to escape, but they were wrapped too tightly.

Tee was running as fast as his little legs could carry him, the camera phone shaking with every step. He put the phone in his pocket, ran up to the wall, jumped, and grabbed onto a small branch sticking out from a hole in the worn down concrete. Knowing the branch could break at any moment, he frantically searched around for another handhold.

A-ha!

Up off slightly to the right, was a crack large enough for him to dig his claws into. Tee took a deep breath, preparing himself. If he could push off with his legs, swing toward the crack, get ready to let go…

The branch snapped off as he was forcibly brought down with a hard tug coming from near his legs. He phone fell out of his pocket, landing sideways on the ground. The camera showed two more black tentacles wrapping around Tee’s stubby legs, dragging him toward Alastor as he screamed. Even digging into the ground with his claws did no good.

Another tentacle gently lifted up the phone and brought it back as well.

Alastor cocked his head to the side, his mouth in an ever-present smile. Vee was lifted up to Alastor’s level and held close to the wall.

Vee laughed nervously. “Oh, hey, Alastor. Heh heh. Great seeing you this f-fine night. I-I wasn’t gonna do anything, I swear.”

The reply was a dark chuckle mixed with static.

Vee felt Alastor’s four-fingered hands grip his head.

“I…I won’t say anything! Way too young to die again. Please…”

Vee’s head crashed against the wall with a loud thud. He let out a high pitched scream.

“Owww! No! Tee, get outta…AUUUGH!”

Vee gagged as his skull cracked against the concrete. Bile filled the demon’s mouth and dark red stained the wall. He gasped for air, black spots across his vision. After his head was slammed against the wall a third time, Vee’s eyes rolled back and his thin body limped downward, relaxed.  Shards of skull and bits of brain spilled to the ground. Alastor reached down toward the utility belt, and pulled out a dagger. He severed the demon’s head, clean off. The lifeless head fell to the ground, rolling until stopping near a restrained Tee.

Tee reeled back as far as he could, yelling through a tendril that was covering his mouth. Alastor smiled down at him, red dials moving, antlers expanding from his head. He held out his palm and flames appeared along with faint symbols hovering around them.

For several minutes, all Tee knew was a searing hot pain consuming his body, the smell of smoke, and the reeking smell of burning flesh around them. He inhaled the smoke and heard the radio static buzzing in his ears. All Tee could do was close his eyes and wait out the agony. Hoping that the heat and noise would soon…

Fade away…

Slipping into…black…

…constant…

…peace.

 With that, the Radio Demon tossed the phone into the flames, the camera and screen revealing his demonic face before the device exploded into electric sparks.

 The colors returned to normal and the flames went out. The only sound was the sound of static, slowly fading back into the vintage microphone. His eyes returned to their normal full red color and his antlers shrunk until they were small sticks on his head once again.

   He snapped his fingers and the white candles lit up again. The skull’s eyes glowed red.

Clearing his throat, Alastor spoke the password in the Creole language:

“Ou pa janm konplètman abiye

San yon souri!”

(You’re never fully dressed without a smile)

  The eyes glowed green and the ground below him vanished. Flames rose from the circle surrounding the pentagram. The inner circle was now a portal to a “basement” of Hell.

Several shadowy spirits rushed out of the hole, ecstatic to be free and to roam wild. Though the ground had disappeared below him, he stood perfectly still where he was.

More tendrils rose from the ground and wove together to form stairs starting at the top near Alastor’s feet. He walked merrily down as the portal slowly closed.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and made his way forward.

“My cozy lair, how much I’ve missed you.”

The lair was a sort of mashup between a haunted house and a middle class home from the early 1920’s.

Black walls stood on either side, blending in so well, it looked like the black ether outside. Red metal columns lined the sides and supporting the high black ceiling above. The black floor stopped at an area and wooden floorboards filled the rest of the ground. It gave the appearance of a floor torn up by an earthquake on the edge.

The first room was the living room. An elegant fireplace contained red flames that were constantly burning. A black leather couch faced a red wall that was decorated with various deer head trophies of many sizes. Some were stuffed versions of real brown deer. Others were the rotten partially furry heads of deer monsters from Hell. A fair amount were deer skulls with arching antlers. A resting rifle was displayed on the top of the fireplace, the same one he used as a human long ago. A red rug lay below the couch and took up much of the living room. The walls had borders with antler designs all in a row.

 Attached to the living room was the kitchen. The wood floor met black and white checkered tile, a green line separating the different kinds. There was a high wooden countertop with a couple of bar stools facing the living room. Several appliances included an old fashioned stove, wooden cabinets, a metal sink and a mustard yellow fridge with an icebox.

Alastor opened the fridge door and gasped out loud.

“Oh my Satan!”

Among the eggs, food, and drinks was a severed purple demon head, with one eye missing.

He reached in with his hand…and pulled out an empty cartoon.

“Curses, I’m out of milk!” he exclaimed. “How am I supposed to have cereal tomorrow?”

He shut the door and sighed. “Oh well. I can always have a snack, instead.”

 There were fans in every room (no air conditioning in Hell). To the left of the kitchen, a darkened path led to the bathroom and two bedrooms. There was also an extra room where Alastor kept all his radio equipment ready: a small microphone, headphones, a control panel of buttons, and even a sign that would lit up and read “on the air” in bold letters.

The bathroom consisted of a toilet, and a vanity with a mirror and a sink with two separate faucets for hot and cold water. Taking up much of the space was a black clawed bathtub in the shape of a cauldron. Alastor turned one of the knobs and a stream of dark red blood jetted out of the large faucet. He turned another knob and streams of red liquid sprayed out from the dish-sized shower head overhead. He tightened the knobs and the blood ceased flowing.

“Good, it still works,” Alastor said, relieved.

He made his way past the guest bedroom to his own room.

A twin-size bed had red satin sheets and a quilt made of soft deer fur neatly folded on the top of the bed toward the edge. The two pillows were neatly fluffed up and propped against the wooden headboard.

Closer to the doorway stood an old fashioned small screen TV with two large antennae jutting out from the top. It was light tan in color, complete with knobs on the front and to the sides. When he pushed the power button on the remote, a black and white show slowly appeared on screen. Unlike many old TV’s and remotes, Alastor had upgraded his with magic, allowing him to go to multiple channels. He watched some picture shows for a while on his bed, then turned the TV off.

He peered out a window, watching the outside world…or lack thereof.

This was a void world, a dimension where the Loas and shadow spirits resided and where the black tentacles originated…from mythical monsters in dark pits. Alastor’s lair hovered in place among the blackness. The demon grinned as he spotted rogue demons being chased, and sometimes mauled on by voodoo shadow creatures. A wrecked blaster from Sir Pentious’ blimp floated in the space. Here was were all the items and victims went when Alastor pulled them into the parallel place. Sometimes Alastor would send unlucky individuals here for entertainment and substance for the Loas. In return, they allowed him easy control of his powers. (Sure he was powerful enough already on his own, but even he knew that dark magic was dangerous for everyone.)

 Alastor stepped down and opened his closet doors, revealing an array of suits, pants and shoes, mostly in dark reds and blacks.

 But nestled behind the line of clothing was something extra peculiar.

 In a large rosewood cabinet was a collection of hand-crafted Voodoo dolls.

 Large ones made of cloth and straw with round button eyes and stitched mouths. Miniature ones made of wood. Several of them had pins with rounded ends stuck in various places.

 But the ones on the widest middle shelf were the most noticeable. They were small dolls made in the likeness of Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Niffty, Husk, and even an Alastor one. All the heads seemed to be bigger than the bodies.

How ironic that hands who had performed countless killings, were also so gentle and precise when it came to voodoo doll making.

“I’ll start with mine, as usual,” he said. He picked up the figure representing himself, complete with tuffs of his own red hair on its head, red clothing made of cloth over the body and red buttons for the eyes. The arms and legs were black stitched material, no designs on them. Branded on the back of the doll was a voodoo symbol of protection, ensuring that no one else could use the doll against him.

“At least I can always count on myself.”

Grinning, he put the doll back onto the miniature stage. He examined the Husk one sitting by the crafted bar.

“You really are a grumpy cat,” Alastor mentioned. “But, I’ll admit, you were still fun to make.”

The doll had a white face with black fluffy ends, red eyebrows, black buttons for eyes and a red bowtie. He had a slight frown on his face. The ears were made of cotton balls and a black hat sat on his head. Red wings had been sewn onto the back.

“Don’t get into too much trouble. I want you to be the puurfect person for that Hazbin Hotel.” He laughed and paced him back at the cardboard bar.

“Cute little darling Niffty,” he continued, examining the miniature doll with bright magenta hair and an attached fake yellow eyeball. The white shirt and pink skirt were there as well (though Alastor had left out the poodle design on the skirt).

“Keep being handy and we’ll get along dandy,” he said in a sing song voice before putting her back beside the cardboard chimney.

 “Oh Angel Dust,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He picked up the white doll, which had a small version of the white and pink outfit that Angel wore. He had a black bowtie, a head a little bit too football shaped, stitched smiling mouth and blue eye buttons.

“You get on my nerves, even in the process of making you,” he said. “I can’t even tell what those pink dots under your eyes are for. And your extra arms…they get all tangled everywhere. Well, at least you’re entertaining much of the time. You’ll have your purpose…and not of any sexual kind, good sir.”

He placed the Angel Dust doll on a web made of black string.

“Hello, naggy Vaggie,” Alastor commented as he observed the gray doll with long white string hair and a pink bow on the top. The white tank-top with the leggings were fastened onto the doll. One button was yellow while the other spot was painted with a pink x.

“Charlie’s best friend, yet different as night and day. No one likes a pessimist around, even in Hell. You got used to Hell, you can get used to anything. Even if it’s something unexpected in the future, perhaps?”

He placed her in her spot by a small paper lantern.

“Your pride is conssstricting isn’t it, Sir Pentious?”

He glanced up at a Sir Pentious doll wrapped up in black string upside down.

“You killjoys will fall again in the trench,” Alastor joked as he looked at a Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench doll stuffed into a hole in the wood.

“Cherri, you’re the bomb,” added Alastor to a doll with strawberry pink string hair and drawings of cherries on her clothes and fake eye. “Just try to control any explosive tempers you may have.”

 Finally, up on another shelf, he came to his favorite group of people: Charlie, Rosie, Mimzy, and of course, his dear mother. (Made with deer characteristics like his). The Charlie doll had blond strings for hair, and her face was painted white with the red blushes. From the black bowtie to the white shirt, leggings and shoes, this figure was almost like the real thing. Another Alastor figure was placed in the middle of the three women. Off to the side, a black deer figure representing his father had pins sticking through his chest, head, and crotch.

“Charlie, my charming demon belle, how will you fare in running your hotel?”

Charlie was placed in front of his figure.

“Darling Mimzy, lover of jazz, who are you behind the glamor and pizazz?”

The white-haired, pink-eyed Mimzy figure was to his left.

“A rose by any name is still a rose. We shall see how our collaboration goes.”

The tall Rosie figure with black eyes, and a pink hat and dress was off to the right.

And right behind the Alastor figure was the doll that resembled his mother.

Version one resembled her human form: light brown skin, thick hair, wearing a beautiful dress and holding a bowl of jambalaya in her hands. The second version was her with Alastor’s grayish skin, red hair, red eyes, and antlers, wearing a black dress with skulls and symbols embroidered on it.

“Ma mere…” (my mom)…

“Tu me manques beaucoup.” (I miss you very much.)

His mother’s words came back to him: “Al, my darling, always remember to smile. Keep your head up, leave any doubts and weakness behind.”

Still wearing his grin, he wiped away a stray tear of sadness.

“You’re right mom. I can’t feel insecure now. You sinned in your life…just so you could see me again…still can’t believe it. I won’t let you done and I won’t let myself down…”

He opened up a final section of the cabinet, this one revealing the dolls dressed like overlords. Vox with a pin through his TV head, Valentino with two pins through his straw chest, Velvet restrained in velvet cloth. Most noticeable of all was a cardboard throne standing up straight, but with a visible tear down the center. Lucifer and Lilith wearing white, sitting on the ground covered in necklace chains. A paper apple staff with the apple part detached and the long black part torn in half.

Alastor grinned at a third doll of him positioned on a throne made of antlers and bone.

“…Especially when I have grand plans set in motion. Hahahahahaha!”

[cooltrainererika]

Alt-talia: It’s Starting to Feel Like Christmas

Hello, hello everyone! Joy to the world!

For some reason I thought this event began today, not yesterday, until pretty recently… but fortunately, while it’s a day late, I got to write this! I did plan on others, but I’m releasing this now so I can get it out just in case, especially since the two others could also fit on another day. This is mainly for 12/16: Presents, but it can also fit under Decorations and Traditions, so three in a row! Woot!

This time, I want to write more about characters I may have missed during Hetaween, since my character pool ended up narrower than intended. ...And saying that, I’m writing about two characters I’ve written twice in that event! Yay!

I debated whether to write about this topic in general or about it specific this year, but chose the latter. I hope I’ll get to release a more in-depth fic about it in general some other time. So yeah, I’m using some really fresh material again this time.

Oh yeah, BTW, most of my fics take place in my “Alt-talia” semi-AU where I aim to capture history and culture more faithfully and most importantly overhaul the many characters who make no sense drastically. This will especially be noticeable for England. So yeah, you have been warned. Though maybe he’s a bit OOC here compared to how I usually write him? Also, it should be noted that I use country names when talking about the characters as countries, and with human names when referring to them as individuals; while in Alt-talia the difference can be more hazy than canon, I mean more talking purely about their personal interactions and the like. 

Also, this is not intended to be shipping! 

This was supposed to be like a few lines with no real arc, but whelp. At least I still kept it short. Also there’s a deleted scene I didn’t know how to end as a bonus at the end. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

(Oh, and those who read my fics; please comment or reblog? I work hard on these, and they would be highly appreciated.)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s Christmastime Again, Lukas Haraldsen

Every year since 1947, Norway had a tradition of sending special Jul presents to a certain nation very dear to him. 

His Norwegian Spruce trees were prized by all; he regularly got bidders from all over Europe, and had witnessed many a fight over them get ugly. But the best of the best were only reserved for a certain United Kingdom; and the best among these, the Queen of the Forest, nurtured by the songs, voices, and arms of some of the world’s best, most loving foresters, for England. Specifically his capital, London.

After all, nothing could make up for the debt he had for him. In the dark days of Nazi occupation, London for him was hope; it was where England protected his royal family as they awaited the Nazis’ demise, from where the radio blared and urged him to fight on, where the skies have become a proving ground to show that the Nazis could be vanquished. 

He knew this year had been a mess for his friend, and his recent election, the second one that year, had done nothing to mitigate it; and while even Norway knew only he himself and his uncharacteristically impulsive decision really was to blame for his current situation, hopefully, this would improve his mood for the uncertain road ahead. 

Norway was a quiet, unassuming man, but he took his presents seriously. And he also took Jul seriously. 

And this year was no different. While he sent many trees every year to different cities in the kingdom, including to some of Scotland’s, the most important was of course the one sent to the City of Hope itself. 

And now, in the heart of Trafalgar Square, wearing a traditional sweater which may as well have been a T-shirt compared to the attire of the Londoners passing by as they started their day, whistling En stjerne skinner i natt and Vårres Jul to himself. 

“Mmm… Ah, Arthur!”

He waved and smiled gently as the man in question, dressed very much warmly in a thick duffel coat and wool knit scarf, came into view. 

“Ahem. I’m here too.”

Today beside him was one Peter Bates, or Sealand as he preferred to be called, adorably bundled up in a woolen coat, mittens, knit hat, and light blue scarf, now crossing his arms. 

“Right, right. Sorry.”

“Ello, Norway. Don’t mind him, he said he wanted to see the tree again and ‘His Highness’ Prince Bates told me to take him with me. Bloody cold here today, isn’t it?”

He was shivering a bit, his nose a noticeable red and his breath a white mist. 

“Nothing I’m not used to. I’ve been waiting for you here. I chose one which is much older and taller than usual. See for yourself.”

Norway moved aside so that his gift would be in full view of his friend. It was a product of the forests on the banks of Trollvann lake, raised with love as any tree worthy of Trafalgar Square would be, almost twice as tall and two or three decades older than the first tree to have had the honor to have the honor of being offered on this annual occasion. 

England stared at the tree. 

Silence. 

“Wow, it’s huge!”

Peter was the first one to speak, his eyes sparkling. 

“England? ...England?”

Norway asked, watching his blank expression. 

“Well… I know that I am causing quite a bit of annoyance, but if I remember correctly, you weren’t in the EU, right?”

Norway was now perplexed. 

England looked to him with a with an expression that could only be said to be both a gentle smile and disappointment at the same time. 

“It seems like it needs a drink, does it not? It looks a bit dry and quite thin.”

Norway thought he felt his heart sunk a little. 

Peter sharply elbowed England in the side, making him gag. 

“Sealand, please don’t.”

“It’s a present, you jerk! ...Don’t listen to Scrooge over here, she’s beautiful.”

“Well you do live on a metal platform in the ocean…”

He jabbed him again.

Norway’s face went a bit red. 

“She’s much older and taller than the usual ones. It won’t look just like a smaller one you would have in your living room.”

“Sorry. I’m just saying it looks a bit sparse, is all.”

Norway lifted up one of many boxes of lights. 

“Mmm… Well, will you be too busy to help?”

“Yes, am afraid. More negotiations and all. So I am presuming it will be lit in the cucumber style as per usua- ach!”

Peter this time kicked him in the knee, making the older nation’s legs buckle a bit. 

“I’ll help, Mister.”

The boy said. 

“No, no, you don’t have to.”

————

Norway had to admit; maybe he had gone too much for size this time around. But Peter insisted that it not looking completely picture perfect was what made it look real instead of “Plastic tat”. 

And, as usual, put up the lights his own way, pure white streaks from top to bottom, “cucumber style” as England called it. 

And despite his complaints, on the night of lighting two days later, as the streams of light lit up in the heart of London in the crisp air and Norway listened to Peter cheer loudly with the crowd, the mayor of Oslo give her speech, and children caroling, amongst a sea of Londoners peppered with tourists, England stood beside him. 

“Well, it indeed finally feels like Christmas now.”

Norway looked to his friend, whose eyes were on the star, towering almost 25 meters above. 

“Well… maybe it is not quite up to your usual quality. But stability has been hard to come by nowadays; this tree being here every year, that I can rely on.”

Norway merely gave a quiet “Mmmm.” in response. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

So that’s that. If anyone desires an explanation, I’ll provide it in a reblog or something, but I’d rather my stories inspire further research.

Also, “Lukas Haraldsen” is the name I’m using for Norway now, since a lot of Norwegians don’t seem to like “Bondivik”. “Haraldsen” because the founding king of the country is said to be King Harald Fairhair, and as Alt-talia nations can choose their surnames I thought it would be fitting if the surname Norway chose was “Son of Harald”. This name isn’t final though. Especially “Lukas”; does baptism change names again? Also Sealand has been renamed to “Peter Bates” instead of Kirkland; I don’t know why Hima chose that surname, since Sealand’s whole shtick is that he wants to be seen as an independent country. Why would he have the same surname? “Bates” is the surname of his owners, BTW, if that wasn’t clear. 

Again, this wasn’t really supposed to be a complete story with a neat conclusion, and not as heartwarming as intended. Kind of a similar case to Keep Calm actually, which also just happened to involve England. It was an opportunity to show England being a d*ck because, believe me, Alt-England can be an absolute d*ck when he wants to be. But despite the fact that he’s one of the characters whose d*ckery I actually kind of enjoy writing in a Love to Hate way, I haven’t had the chance to do that so far in these events... and I guess I got halfway there? I guess just ending it on England passive-aggressively insulting the tree was just a bit too meanspirited for me. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Deleted scene

<F%CKYE4H: Wow, it’s like ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ in real life! What, are you gonna break out the aluminum trees now?>

<StillInInferno: Mate, at least you have a real tree, because down here it’s not only hot as hell but if I had any Christmas trees to begin with, they’ve already fucking burned to shit.>

<MooseOfMaple: Dad… With the hassle you’ve been causing everyone you might not have the right to complain about someone showing kindness and holiday spirit to you.>

Arthur huffed as his children ribbed him in the family chat that night. 

<RuleBritannia: Don’t preach to your father, we went over this.>

<F%CKYE4H: Still, giving, not receiving, y’know.>

<MooseOfMaple: Dad, please… As someone who knows spruce trees very well, I do question Norway’s decision, but still. The world doesn’t revolve around you anymore.>

<RuleBritannia: I do not think that. Please stop accusing me of it.>

<BlacKoru: Yeah. It revolves around America. Make of that what you will.>

<F%CKYE4H: Kiwi! I can see that!>