#only implied thought and your gonna have to guess the context behind

[radioves]

i want to be more than your mistake.

[ID : a digital painting, done in shades of murky green and yellow, of a drone with shoulder-length shaggy hair wearing a tattered jacket over a sweater. it is kneeling, hunched over and looking disheveled, one hollowed eye looking up at the viewer in a desperate manner. its right arm has been destroyed, replaced with a sort of cage around the barrel of a cannon, stray wires sticking out from between the bars. a wire tail curls behind it with a needle for a stinger, a tube connecting to the vial of corrosive venom severed and dripping yellowish acid. dark liquid drips from its mouth, splattered over its arm, its fingers stained and the cage of its arm covered in the substance. there is a spiky halo behind its head, illuminating it from behind while its front is cast in shadow, almost hiding the stains. end id]

[softevnstan]

(nsfw) random prompt event generator for bucky!!

Bucky and Y/N going back to one or the other's house after a date, where they eventually end up dry-humping on the couch. Y/N only intends this as foreplay, but Bucky is already getting overwhelmed. Y/N finds this amusing and endearing, leaning close to whisper something teasingly into Bucky's ear. It turns out that Bucky is more excited than Y/N thought, and hits orgasm without any further stimulation, to the surprise of Y/N and the embarrassment of Bucky. What happens next?

pairing. bucky barnes x gender neutral! reader

summary. After a date night out with Bucky as you explore your new relationship, you unintentionally wind up taking your makeout session a little too far. Quickly you learn it's been far too long since Bucky has had a partner.

warnings. SMUT - minors DNI. kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, size difference, beefy bucky, dry humping, masturbation (bucky and you), implied/referenced trauma, reader has v but still gender neutral. p with plot, recovering!bucky barnes (half-way).

a.n. ok, i have other things to write and originally i was gonna let this wait... until i read the prompt again and saw this as an opportunity for some mild bottom/fluffy bucky. (bucky is a bottom you can't change my mind, but i'll write top for you all i promise) starts a little fluffy at first because idk how to not write some sort of context to situations, and bucky is still in recovery reasonably so

w.c. 7.6k howdidthishappen

Your date with Bucky exceeded your expectations. Wary that things would potentially be a little rough around the edges while the soldier was still trying to put himself back together, you were pleasantly surprised when he picked you up at your apartment with a bouquet of flowers - specifically an interesting combination of sunflowers and roses. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had bought you flowers, and after running them inside so as to not ruin them by taking them on the trip, Bucky held your hand all the way to his motorcycle and helped you settle comfortably before embarking on the evening together. No awkward pauses or tense, heavy moments with Bucky; It was sweet and a dream come true that you didn’t even know you’d had.

He’d surprised you on where you both were going initially. Blindly trusting Bucky with wherever he chose your date location, he decided that the Art Museum was the safest choice. Dinners could be awkward - what if you don’t like the way someone chews their food? Movies hardly left time to actually get to know one another, instead just sitting in the dark with occasional spared glances. Anything too physical could be exerting and hinder you from another date with Bucky. So after indecisively pondering, Bucky had chosen that an art exhibit was the best way to go.

You loved it.

So many classic paintings and countless mediums of art filled the halls as you two strode hand in hand. Bucky was on the quieter side, but not enough to deter you. He’d smile and watch the twinkle in your eyes when you both came across a particularly marvelous work of art that you loved. Bucky had listened smittenly as you gushed about the way some pieces of art made you feel or the message you interpreted behind it all. Eventually, Bucky had begun to open up throughout the night to do the same. What felt like hours of enriched conversation and two people simply being in the moment.

Sometimes people don’t need candles and rose petals, sometimes people just need someone to talk to and feel just as down to earth with. 

Unfortunately, neither of you had finished going through the whole museum together in one sitting.

Bucky had used that as the opportunity to salvage the situation; “I guess that means we’ll just have to come back together.” He’d said fondly when you both stopped at the mini-cafe built in the museum before you both left.

Instead of letting the date die down when the museum began closing for the night, you offered to bring the party back to your apartment instead. Tempting Bucky with a bottle of wine sitting in your kitchen so you two could just spend some more time together, he didn’t need too much convincing. Any excuse to stay close to you, to steal some of your time just a little longer before returning to his dull apartment. 

‘How could I say no to you, doll?’ He had said, and you’d beamed at the small victory.

Truly, you hadn’t meant for it to end up where it was (not that you were complaining). When you asked Bucky to come into your apartment building, when you’d walked together hand in hand, you didn’t think you’d wind up like this. But somewhere between being plastered against Bucky’s backside and having the privilege to let your hands wander and explore tight leather hiding thick arms or the adrenaline of feeling the wind whipping in your hair, you’d started to become insatiable on the trip back.

Bucky had this way with you that made you feel like a teenager in love all over again.

Sure, he was quiet, but he was misunderstood. Soft and sweet, he had a compassionate heart and an intelligent mind, the gentle giant. 

It’d taken some time to help Bucky bring down those walls initially - countless weeks you’d spent just trying to be his friend before he finally caved and agreed. He was a private person, you learned, but once peeling back all the layers, Bucky was amazing and worth all the work that went into opening him up. Creative and smart, a book-lover and funny, he was gentle and tender and emotional in every way that a man could be if they let themselves. He wasn’t afraid to be honest, but was instead afraid to voice that too loud. He wasn’t afraid to be emotional or vulnerable with those he trusted - not the unfeeling machine that so many had made him out to be. Bucky had simply needed someone who understood him - or was willing to if nothing else.

Once you’d gotten past all of it, all of the rough nights and moody days, it was worth it. You’d watched Bucky become something he never was before…

He was the one who had taken your relationship a step further. 

Tentatively and timidly, might you add. Always endearing. He’d been anxious asking you to come out with him - as though he’d been fighting with himself for a long while on whether or not he should even ask. When he finally called you and asked if you’d like to go out on a date with him tonight - yes, he’d used date - you’d been elated. 

And sure, you were moving a little too fast at that moment, but life is short and he’s already on seventy years of borrowed time. Bucky deserves to be loved.

Warm hand had rubbed up the length of Bucky’s bicep, and you gave his shoulder a squeeze when getting off of his motorcycle with a teasing glint in your eyes.

When he walked with you into the building, you hugged his left arm to your side - refusing for any additional space to come between the both of you as you prattled on about 'Birthday', by Dorothea Tanning and how you interpreted it as the door into the imagination, and Bucky was busy trying to remember which painting it was you were talking about - it was 'the winged scared cat-creature on the floor' that rejogged his memory.

Bucky was just happy you clung so easily to the cold and hard metal of his vibranium arm as if it were his own.

Turning into your hall, you’d begun to pull Bucky by the arm. Turning on your heel and offering him a smitten smile when you tugged him closer to your body in a backward walk. His eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile, his smile wide and showing off pretty white teeth. Even the sheepish duck of his head was precious when you led him into your apartment, finally excited to have time where it could be just you and Bucky without prying eyes.

"If you were eager to get home, you could've just said so," Bucky teased you, and you gave a playful smirk in response.

"M'not, I'm just excited to finally be alone with you." you'd cooed, attempting to make the words seductive but honestly they came more sentimental than anything.

The door gave way behind you when you twisted the knob with your one hand, the other still clutching to Bucky's sleeve. It didn't give Bucky a chance to respond to your retort when you tugged him right on into your apartment. Instead, it earned a chuckle that snapped into a gasp with your pull.

It was when that door shut that something came over you. Tucked into your own little corner of the world, you didn’t fear overwhelming Bucky with affection that made him uncomfortable. No worries about people gawking and making him feel out of place (or him being afraid of gawking, really). 

When you both were just past the threshold of your apartment, you turned and used your foot to push the door shut. Fingers sliding up Bucky's arm, you used the moment to grab the lapels of his leather coat and step back - coming flush with the door and dragging Bucky right on into your tight space.

Hardly giving him a chance to protest. Wide cobalt eyes study you when you both are finally still, Bucky's hands hovering a little uselessly briefly and while shocked, still pleasantly surprised by your bravery.

"Someone is a little impatient," Bucky comments, expression softening. "Not impatient, just excited." You defend with a loving smile. "I could've sworn there was a bottle of wine mentioned..." Bucky trails. "Can you even get intoxicated?" You rhetorically question with a curious tilt of your head and a knowing grin. "Can't I drink for the taste like most people do?" Bucky retorts. "Touché."

You both fall into a small fit of giggles and soft laughs, the small talk helping to alleviate some of Bucky's nerves. His hands slowly come to settle on your sides since you're not budging from where you'd pressed flat against the door. Enjoying being wedged between a door and Bucky - you'd be crazy not to.

Despite the way, your mind is running a million miles a minute and your gaze can't seem to draw away from Bucky's pouty lips, Bucky doesn't seem to be picking up as easily on your advances. That's okay. He's always been worth the wait.

“...Did you have a good evenin’, doll?” he asks, flesh hand smoothing down to delicately rest on your hip.

“I was with you, wasn’t I?" Bucky looks at you for a beat as if slightly unconvinced... "Yes, Bucky. One of the best dates I've ever been on... ‘S a shame, I don’t want it to end.” You coo, drawing Bucky in closer until you’re both flush against each other. His left-gloved hand lifted to push your hair from your face tenderly. 

“Who says it has to end right here?” Bucky hums with his signature playboy grin - no wonder why he had every girl in Brooklyn creaming their panties.

The low husk of his voice strikes you to your very core, allowing your imagination to run wild with the countless thoughts of what the man before you could really do if he tried. Really, it wouldn’t take much; Bucky already had you curled around his finger, whether he knew it or not was another question.

“I thought you’d never ask,” pleased, you lay your hands flat on Bucky’s chest. Feeling under his open coat and hands finding the expanse of muscle. You tilt your head back, biting your bottom lip seductively with a cheeky grin.

You aren’t ready to find Bucky’s eyes watching you so intently. The way he wets his bottom lip before worrying it between his teeth and releasing that pouty lip of his. Eyes boring right into you and keeping you pinned between him and the door. Ever so carefully, Bucky cups your cheek in his large gloved palm. There’s hardly a missed beat when you turn your head and nose affectionately into his palm, able to hear the soft whirring of the machinery before pressing a chaste kiss to leave behind.

“I had fun tonight,” You reiterate to him softly - the drag of your lips accentuated with every word against his palm.

“M’glad. You look good when you’re happy.” Bucky murmurs, but he seems distracted. Cobalt eyes follow every drag of your lips, Bucky exhales a shallow breath. 

“I bet I could think of a few ways you could make me even happier, Bucky,” you singsong, hand sliding up over Bucky’s that hold your cheek to press affectionately into his touch. Always grateful for anything, nuzzling into him like a needy kitten. 

Part of you is waiting for the next step. For him to make the next move - that’s the dance between you two. You step, and Bucky steps one more further. Playing off of each other. It doesn’t come.

“M’sure you could, sugar,” Bucky starts, and you’re waiting for the ‘But’... “But,” There it is. “Maybe we should slow down just a little. It’s been such a good night…”

“We could make it better,” you offer, and Bucky flushes slightly at the implication.

“...I don’t want to move too fast,” Bucky says after a pause in a hushed whisper - as though scared if he speaks any louder, the universe may come in and rip this good thing away from him as it has a history of doing.

“Listen, I care about you. And I had a really, really good time with you - I’m still so happy you agreed to come out with me. But you’re not- Not some dame. I’m not just trying to get into your pants, Y/N…” Bucky elaborates tentatively, and you watch him with understanding in your gaze.

“I know,” You softly lament. “You’re not that kind of fella, Bucky…” “I want you to feel comfortable with me - happy,” Bucky emphasizes, and for half a moment your heart hurts for the man in front of you. So convinced he’s still capable of doing harm, even after all of this time. “I can’t think of a time I’ve been uncomfortable around you at all, actually,” Softly you contest, and Bucky offers you a briefly amused smile. 

“We can take our time,” Bucky presses; You can tell it’s more for him than it is for you. “Anything you need.” No questions about it. Nuzzling into Bucky’s palm, your lips form a chaste smile. “You’re too good to me, sugar…” “Funny, I’ve found myself thinking that all night.” Bucky finds humor in the words; expression softening and some of the tension that had begun to rebuild in him falling away. Bucky laughs. Soft, but rich. He leans in and presses a lingering kiss to your temple; Protective and loving. “Earlier, you said you had fun… So did I. This was one of the best nights in a while for me,” The admission comes with the feel of Bucky’s lips ghosting your skin. It’s distracting.

“I’m glad; You deserve good things, too, Bucky.” Something you tend to try to remind Bucky of often; You’ll slam that fact into his head until he one day decides to believe it for himself and see what everyone else sees. “You are my good thing,” he whispers even quieter; Unintentionally dropping the tone of his voice and sending shivers down your spine.

No words are exchanged when your hands lift and find Bucky’s defined jaw; cradling him gently and drawing him in for a deep but loving kiss. The first of many tonight.

Both you and Bucky had soon migrated from the door in the foyer to your cozy living room. You both struggled to keep space between one another; Lips meeting together over and over again. The only sound was your own heart pounding in your ears and the soft breaths between you and Bucky. 

You were planted in his lap. Sat on strong, thick thighs - your arms draped around Bucky’s broad shoulders. His hands sat comfortably on your sides; gloves abandoned on the coffee table when he’d wanted to feel you. Not leather obstructing him from feeling the proper warmth of your flushed skin. His head tipped back to accommodate the way you had gained a few inches on him upon being seated in his lap.

Despite the way you two were entangled, it was nothing more than kisses. His hands hadn’t dared to venture below your belt, and while the kisses were definitely full of passion, it wasn’t the flame you were yearning and burning for. To respect Bucky’s request though, you didn’t proceed any further. Content with the taste of Bucky on your tongue, the warmth of his breath, and the barely there noises you were able to draw out of him that rumbled in his chest. His lips were soft and moved naturally against one another - It was a moment of euphoria.

Just the way your mouths slotted together alone was enough to rile you up; It’d been so long, and no one was as tender a lover as Bucky was with you. Each time he touched you, it was with consideration and care for what you wanted, what would feel good. Never in the means of his own self-gain. It made you that much more desiring of him; the connection that you both maintained had been there for months, it was simply that you both had finally begun to act on it. 

You’d told yourself you’d be slow. Take this at your own pace. No one wants to rush into a relationship that has the potential to end messy. But there you were; Necking in your living room with Brooklyn’s finest bachelor since 1936. Truly, you were only human, and it hadn’t escalated further than that. Breathing each other in, heated and heavy. You hadn’t even done it intentionally.

One could only fault you so much when your hips rolled into Bucky’s. Formerly nestled still in his lap, you found yourself moving without thought. Grinding down into the soldier’s lap, it elicited a deep groan from his throat, and tilted his head down to pull your lips apart. His hands instinctively moved to your hips; Clutching moderately tight to still your ministrations. You relished in the subtle pressure that came with Bucky’s hands securely enough to hold you still for hardly a moment. It was enough time for you to have realized the mistake you’d made.

“Shit, I’m sorry–” you stammered between the both of you, and Bucky instead took a shallow inhale. “No, no– It… It was good. It felt good, it’s-... It’s just… been a while.” Bucky timidly expressed, cheeks flushed and breathless. You noticed how he struggled briefly to maintain a heated gaze with you, eyes averting before pinching shut altogether.

“Do we need to stop? It’s okay if we do, Bucky…” Let him know that he had that out if he needed it; You wouldn’t be upset.

That option left Bucky shaking his head profusely. “No,” he rasps out, and you can feel his breath fanning your face. Can still taste him on your lips. You’re both still so close… You can feel the faint flex of his fingers holding you. “I want to keep going… Just… Give me a moment, alright?” He requests, and you give him a comforting smile and an understanding nod.

Your fingers card up into Bucky’s disheveled locks and brush thick hair back from falling in his face. Some of the tension leaves his body when you press a chaste kiss to his temple. 

“Whatever you need,” you softly let him know. You’re both still for a minute or two. Simply letting Bucky hold your hips while you kept some of the pressure on your knees - dug into the cushions on either side of his thick thighs. Soothingly rubbing your fingers through Bucky’s hair and giving him a tender hug he relishes in.

Then, slowly, he pulls you back down. Guiding your ass back into his lap and bodies coming flush together. The moment is experimental and you allow Bucky to take all the time he needs even if there is a burning in your thighs from the awkward position. Basking in the relief with a soft sigh and nosing into Bucky’s hair. His hands experimentally dare to explore a little further down. Rubbing from your waist down over your hips to the tops of your thighs. His hands feel like that of a bear's paws in comparison to your physique. 

“How are we feeling…?” You ask, checking in on him. “A little better… I’ve been using that 4-7-8 breathing method my therapist recommended, actually,” Bucky says, and you can tell for a moment he just needs to play it by ear. Even if you both don’t do anything tonight, he’s worth the wait.

“Really? That’s good,” Indulging in the moment of chit-chat as his hands still continue the back-and-forth motion. Hypnotizing and leaving your thighs tingling.

Bucky’s reply comes in a soft hum, tilting his head down to nudge his nose at your neck. You tilt your head enough for him to burrow in the hollow of your throat and nose affectionately there. His warm breath makes your skin break out in goosebumps. You let out a shaky exhale before a sappy grin spreads across your face.

He begins to slowly mouth at the sensitive skin of your throat. Gentle kisses and the faint scratch of his stubble that initially tickles enough to make you wiggle in his lap. 

“Bucky!” You squeak and you feel the grin against your skin.

“Easy, easy…” Bucky lowly tells you and it burns into your core. It’s easy to go lax when he’s the voice coaxing you back. “Good doll,” Bucky says with a chuckle - clearly teasing but it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

“M’ticklish,” You defend as your arms squeeze around his shoulders. “I can tell. Might come in handy one day…” His lips still ghost over your skin; ever so distracting.

“You wouldn't.” “I might,” Bucky says, his voice smooth but thick like honey.

A playful pinch to Bucky’s shoulder makes him surrender with a laugh before tipping his head up to press your foreheads together again. This time you’re surprised to find his eyes meeting yours head-on.

“Thank you for being understanding,” Bucky addresses the elephant in the room, traces of anxiety in those gray eyes. “I’m still trying to learn how to let myself be with someone else…”

The words feels so raw; A hushed confession and a moment Bucky is being fully honest with you. Not hiding from it or skirting around it - communicating his boundaries and being able to give himself the time he needs. Your chest swells with pride for the man before you in his growth; You’re so inlove. 

“It’s okay, really. I’m not here just to get into your pants, Bucky. I care about you, and we can go as fast or as slow as you need.” You affirm, always wanting Bucky to know that. That he’s safe with you the way you are with him.

“I know,” he whispers, tipping his head up a little further to let your lips brush. “It’s why I like you so much…”

You smile, unable to help but feel a fluttering in your chest. Bucky draws you the rest of the way to press your lips together again. Starting from scratch so that Bucky is able to be more expecting and prepared this time. The build-up doesn’t bother you in the slightest, and it doesn’t take the both of you long to build up where you once were. Bucky’s comfortable kissing you. It’s everything else that daunts him.

Bucky is the one who holds your hips tight against his lap as he gives an experimental roll of his hips up into your ass; feeling the semi-bulge through his jeans. You gasp against his lips, and he seizes the moment to lick hot into your mouth. He doesn’t do it again; Teasing you and inviting you to take the next step. Experimentally, you return the gesture when you grind against Bucky’s lap. It draws a noise from both of you at that time.

“Yeah..,” Bucky huskily groans. “That’s good, fuck…” Bucky’s praise eggs you on to keep pressing down into Bucky. Rotating your hips to allow both of you to grind through your clothes; Traces of Bucky’s arousal evident in his jeans.

He steals your breath with a claiming kiss. Strong hands trailing up your thighs to test the waters. Feeling over the swell of your ass and encouraging you to keep pressing down into him. Rutting against his constricted and half-swelled cock. You’re unsure what to do with your hands other than planting them firmly on Bucky’s chest as you grind your sexes together. Fingers curling into bunch fabric of his shirt as Bucky’s head tilts to deepen your kiss further.

With each second that passes, you feel dizzier. High on the endorphins and lack of oxygen - your chest felt warm and fuzzy. Kissed senseless as Bucky’s firm hands squeeze the globes of your ass and rips a needy keen from your throat, drawing your grinds to a controlled halt. Right when you fear as though you might be too light-headed from the lack of air, Bucky shows some mercy. Freeing your lips and leaving you to gasp; Bucky licking his lips with a satisfied grin.

“I think I taste mint, did you pop a tic-tac earlier when I wasn’t looking…?” Bucky breathlessly teases, both of you so close that you can feel his smile. In that moment, you’re simply trying to return to Earth for a moment between soft, airy breaths. 

When you will yourself to finally look at Bucky again, his eyes are blown. His black pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes; leaving behind a thin ring. Something inside of him looks livelier than you’ve ever seen, Bucky’s cheeks flushed and lips swollen. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” is all you manage, earning a cheeky grin from Bucky - proud. “Speechless? I’m relieved to know after nearly a century I haven’t gotten rusty… It’d be embarrassing if I was 107 and didn’t know how to kiss,” Bucky jokes, and something inside of you feels so warm and fuzzy.

That you both can joke while still being in the moment and grinding into each other moments prior.

“Cocky, are we soldier?” You hum after regaining some of your composure, hands lifting to hold his face. Before Bucky has a chance to speak, the wiggle of your hips draws a reminder of the length in his jeans. Bucky chokes on a stifled groan low in his throat at the way you frott into him.

“Very funny,” he asks, still slightly out of breath.

“You took me by surprise,” you admit softly, “You never seem so brave…” “Frankly, sugar, it’s… Been a really long time. I’ve spent a too long runnin’ and not getting to actually feel alive - I’m not just surviving anymore. It’s taken time and it’ll still take more, but you make me feel better.” Bucky confesses fondly, and you snort with amusement. Pressing a loving kiss to his lips.

“Sap.” You murmur between soft pecks. “Only you could turn something hot into something sweet.” “Can’t we have both?” Bucky cooes. “Absolutely.”

This time, you take lead. Pecking kisses down from Bucky’s lips, over his stubbled cheek and defined jaw. His head tilts back to accommodate the way you nudge, leaving open-mouth kisses in your wake. Sucking the salty skin to leave behind loving bruises that will only last so long with Bucky’s healing factor. He groans; Adam’s apple bobbing when you stamp kisses back up his neck to the juncture of his ear and jaw. A soft kiss before you take a playful nip at his earlobe and send shivers racking through the man under you. “Oh, babydoll,” Bucky sighs airly, taking it upon himself to guide your hips. You move on your own accord as Bucky grinds you into his lap; Moving you back and forth to rut together through your clothes. You don’t have to do any of the work, instead just taking some time to give Bucky the loving he deserves.

When you peer at his face, his eyes are closed. Lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks and lips parted with soft breaths; the occasional clench of teeth pulls out a gravelly rumble from his chest. All of it has you so hot, so riled up. It’s just the two of you alone in the apartment; The air is charged with electricity between the two of you. The scrape of your teeth makes Bucky’s lips curl into a devious grin.

“You’re doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praises. “My pretty baby, yeah… God– Do you feel what you do to me, honey…?” Bucky’s voice was hoarse, the friction working him up just as much as it was you. The throbbing between your legs was becoming insatiable - your answer coming in a whimper as you sucked another purpling bruise into Bucky’s throat.

Your hips move enthusiastically. Trying to meet Bucky for every grind; Becoming too much for him to handle at one point. 

“Sl-Slow down, baby… Easy, we’ve got time,” he attempts to coax, but you’re busy chasing that high at that moment. You want to make Bucky feel good - this is doing that for him; Pleasing him. 

“What’s wrong, big guy?” You ask with an airy giggle, nosing up to Bucky’s ear. Your lips press against the shell of his ear; “I can’t get enough of you touching me, Bucky. I just want to make you come, thinking about it turns me on so much…”

You don’t realize until it’s too late what the words do to him, whispered out right in his ear. Bucky’s nose scrunches up and his jaw goes slack. His body becomes taut underneath you; Hands clutching hard and leaving a dull ache in your bones despite the way you’re still trying to move. Bucky’s hips stutter harshly, and suddenly he’s gasping out. Moaning low and breathy as he rides out his orgasm with half-hearted bucks up into your ass.

Your eyes widen with a sense of wonder as Bucky comes undone in those short few seconds. His lips curl into a perfect ‘o’ and he shudders, eyes pinched shut. “Ohhhh fuuuck,” Bucky moans, long and drawn out, and there’s not a hotter sight than Bucky Barnes coming because of you. You smile; Pleased with yourself and priding yourself on the fact of being able to be the one to do this to Bucky. You continue the grueling roll of your hips into his hard dick - little left to the imagination while your fingers tangle in his hair and you hold him close. Watching his face all the while; Not wanting to miss a single moment.

Bucky rides it out until he’s left with beads of sweat misting his hairline, panting with the rise and fall of his chest. Taking his time, licking his lips before seemingly becoming sheepish of how easily he’d just fallen apart. No warning; It’s been so long since he’s had another sexual partner to experience these things within a positive environment.

Your hips only stop when he’s well and done, knowing that most guys half the time are one-and-done. “That… That felt really good, m’sorry, it’s– it’s different. With, y’know, someone else… Versus alone…” Bucky manages awkwardly, and you simply draw him in for a lingering kiss. 

“I understand,” You murmur comfortingly against his lips. “You can clean up in the bathroom; I don’t have anything in your size for underwear, unfortunately, but I can find a pair of flannel bottoms that might fit…” “What about you?” Bucky asks, raising a brow. “Me?” “You.. You didn’t get to… Y’know.”

It’s oddly endearing how he worries about the fact that you weren’t able to get off the way he had. “What, we’re afraid to use adult language now?” You tease, and Bucky rolls his eyes. “M’bein’ serious. I want you to feel good…” Bucky says, rubbing your thighs soothingly. “I can get it up again if you give me a minute.” He adds, and for a moment you’re confused before placing the answer upon a super soldier refractory period.

“You’d be comfortable with that..?” You ask with a curious tilt, and Bucky bites his lips together; you can see the lingering daze in his eyes from the post-orgasm haze. “No,” he answers almost nervously. “I… Tonight has been a lot already. I don’t think I want to go there yet…” And you expect it to end there, but: “I have something else in mind, though.”

“Oh, do you now…?” you muse, curious. “Have you ever heard of mutual masturbation…?”

You’re both sat facing one another on the couch; One of your legs tucked under your body and pants long abandoned to the floor leaving you in nothing but your underwear. You’d felt far less reluctance than Bucky had when it came to stripping down; The layers shed easily as your anticipation festered more and more to the surface. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited. You’ve known Bucky for a while now, and let’s not lie to yourself - He’s a good-looking man who can do things with a single look. The ‘Barnes Charm’ he was so popular for when he was young was still there; Showing itself in small flickers of moments from time to time. The only instances in acting on it on your behalf were in the comfort of your bedroom, alone in the sheets. No one’s business but yours. 

But now you’re there with him and no one else. No one to disturb your private moment.

Touch was something that was hard for Bucky - he’d expressed that to you when he stammered over what he’d been asking of you. That he’d rather watch one another right then.

Bucky had no problem drinking you in, either. His eyes were fixed on every movement you made - when you’d peeled your shirt off his eyes followed the expanse of glowing skin and studied it all. Every curve and slope of your body; There was no question of how enamored he was with you. It was the first time in a long time you’d felt truly seen. Someone who wasn’t just trying to get into your pants but found you breathtaking.

It was flattering; You could feel the heat in your cheeks and the way it flustered you to be looked at in awe. There was something about Bucky that made you feel perfect. He was a man that was genuine in everything he did; Not much of a people-pleaser if he doesn’t have to be. Arguably a little stubborn, actually. You knew nothing about the way he looked at you was feigned.

He chews his lip as his eyes study you. Leaned more forward from where he’s sat sideways on his half of the couch. Left hand clutching the back of the couch cushion, Bucky had that familiar bulge in his jeans (which were now unbuttoned and peeled open to show off his navy blue briefs). 

“You look so perfect, doll…” Bucky murmurs lovingly after a moment, and your heart melts in your chest.

The words felt too intimate for you to accept easily, but you didn’t want to reject the compliment either. So rather than reply verbally, you leaned back into the cushion propped up behind you and drew your right leg up; Pressed into the back of the couch. Your right leg dangles off the side of the couch and leaving you exposed to Bucky. A welcome invitation if he decides to change his mind and wants to touch you. 

Bucky breath hitches; shuddering out a slow exhale through his nose. His gaze is hungry, his hand thoughtlessly moving to his own groin to palm the returning erection.

“I’ll love you right, one of these days, sugar.” Bucky promises with a lick of his lips. “This is just fine for tonight, Bucky,” You reassure him, and his gaze racks up to your face. “Thank you again for understanding,” And the softness in his hungry eyes sends a cold desire to your core - something more intimate about that look than the one threatening to eat you whole. “Anything for you.” You tell him, meaning every word.

With that, you make a deliberate show of teasing your fingers down your chest and tummy before slinking between your legs. 

“Aww, that’s it, sugar,” Bucky hums fondly with a breathy chuckle. “Eager little thing, gonna put on a pretty show for me..?”

“Only if you promise to do the same; This is just as much for me as it is for you,” You tease affectionately, mood defiled when you trace your hole with your middle and ring finger. The pads of your fingers are cold on sensitive skin, leaving you to shiver and sigh out an airy moan.

“M’not in nearly as a rush as you are, sweetheart.” Bucky hums, and you catch the way his hand slides down to palm at his cock through his underwear. “So excited to be on display, are we?” “Just for you,” you exhale, preening at the way he looks at you while experimentally dipping the tips of your fingers into your wet and wanting hole.

“Thank God, might have to wring someone by the neck if I gotta share a sight as sweet as this...” The tone is playful and joking, but there are traces of genuine possessiveness in Bucky’s voice. The idea alone is enough to have you showing off; gathering the wetness and making a deliberate show of smearing it over glistening skin. Bucky licks his lips with a look as though he wants to eat you alive. 

Atleast it’ll give him something to look forward to for when you both do get to the point you can be physically comfortable with intimacy. You can have more than enough fun with this. 

“Mother, mary, n’ joseph…” Bucky drawls; that Brooklyn accent of his coming through thick with the rumble of his words. He relaxes back into the couch while you continue the steady stroke of teasing yourself, playing with your clit and leaving your cunt throbbing. Bucky properly slides his jeans down his thighs and bunches his briefs along with them.

The evidence of his previous orgasm smeared in his soiled briefs, his cock thick and bobbing at the cool air. Bucky hisses through his teeth before spitting into his hand and stroking himself off languidly. 

“Don’t stop, sweetheart. Keep touchin’ yourself for me, I wanna see how you like it…” the words were hummed low, squeaking a moan out of you with just the way he spoke to you alone. “Aww, did you like that, baby? Like the way I talk to you..?”

You bite your lip, swallowing back the noises and answering Bucky’s question in a profuse nod. Fingers still insistently tracing yourself to that sweet spot, you could feel the slow knot building in the pit of your tummy.

“Ah, ah, ah… If m’gonna talk, I wanna hear those sweet noises, babydoll. Sing for me,” Bucky cooes with a breathy chuckle, still fucking his fist on the length of his cock. Pre-come beading at the slit and making the tip glisten with the signs of his arousal.

“Oh, Bucky,” You wantonly mewl out, surprising yourself with how helpless you sound. Trailing your slick fingers down to press the tip of your middle finger into your weeping cunt. Experimentally pressing in, having been pent up for what felt likes ages and aching for relief.

“That’s it, baby,” Bucky’s hand begins to speed up over his aching cock; His thickness jerking in his palm whenever you make a particularly sweet noise. “Show me how you stuff that needy cunt; I wanna see how you - fuck - take care of yourself…”

You moan for Bucky; needy and high and airy. It just feeds into his own arousal as he jerks off across from you. His own groans deep and rough - Piercing gaze keeping you pinned to the couch. Unable to look away from the way Bucky’s gaze bore into you.

His eyes watch you expectantly; Waiting for you to do what he’s asked. You oblige.

Your fingers press knuckle-deep into your cunt; Experimentally thrusting into your channel and leaving your back to arch slightly off the arm of the couch.

“Oh,” you mewl out, fingers driving into your hole, stretching your tightness and leaving your arousal to spill out. 

Bucky jerks his thick cock, hand sliding easily and the ministration made easier by the pre-come that spills over his fist. He shifts his hips, licking his lips and grinning at the way you fuck yourself open.

“Look at you, such a pretty baby,” Bucky breathes low between pants for air. “If I didn’t know any better I’d have thought you – mmh, god - were waitin’ for this. So eager to get that hole wet…”

The way Bucky talks to you makes your chest flutter. Your face feels hot, gasping as it drives the way you fuck your hole. Watching the up-stroke on Bucky’s cock - imagining the length sliding home into you and whimpering at the thought. Your eyes screw shut, the room filled with the slick sounds of your fingers in your hole.

“Oh no, babydoll, open those pretty eyes. I want you to watch me,” Bucky demands, and your eyes open on command. “Yeah, that’s it… Good baby, see this?” Bucky stops the stroking of his dick to let his fingers wrap around the girth and give a little tap of the tip to his thigh. Showing off the girth and his thick balls.

“Yeah, yeah this is all for you, honey. M’so hard for you, all for you…” The rumble of his voice was soothing as it was arousing.

“Bu-Bucky,” you squeak past trembling lips. Thighs softly quaking — Bucky’s words could get you off alone. Who knew he was such a filthy talker?

“I’m right here, sugar. ‘S okay, make yourself feel good. Don’t gotta hold back for nothin’, show me, pretty thing. I wanna see it all…” It’s permission if you’ve ever heard it, and suddenly at that moment, you realize how dependent Bucky’s say was over your building orgasm. As if your body knew it was waiting on his approval before you could let yourself come undone. 

Your legs draw up to clench your thighs – Stopping yourself when you remember Bucky’s eyes are still fixed upon your flushed body. Watching the hypnotizing display of the quick work you made fingering your needy cunt while he relished int he display. Stroking his cock languidly before building up a pace that matched your own; Wanting to follow your arousal with you. 

Just because you both weren’t touching doesn’t mean he couldn’t work with you.

It doesn’t take much; Not that it surprises you. You’d been pent up from the previous grinding into one another; hot and bothered by kisses that gave you a hint of what more could be like. 

While your one hand is busy playing with your nub, your free hand smooths up to ruck up your shirt. Bucky’s dilated eyes light up even more when your hand moves under your top; Rolling a nipple between your fingers and drawing even more whorish noise from your swollen lips.

Bucky downright growls, hips arching subtly off the couch as he fucks up into his fist.

“Fuck, you like to play with your nipples, baby? Aww, bet you’re so sensitive… Mm, fuck, yea… M’gonna love gettin’ my hands on you when we’re ready. Gonna learn every nook n’ cranny of you; Wanna worship that pretty body of yours.”

He keeps talking like that; each word straight to your aching core and leaving you soaked. Bucky picks up on it in the way you get louder — noisier.

“You like that? Of course you do — who knew you were so fuckin’ filthy, sugar? Aw, m’gonna come, baby,” Bucky’s voice even until it begins to find a sense of urgency towards the end. A sharp breath from him, both of your hands moving while you watch one another. Pleasuring yourselves and being your most intimate selves; On display for one another.

Your jaw is slack, gasping and moaning out pitiful squeaks while you touch yourself. Bucky’s hand moves smoothly over his arousal, the sound of skin on skin as he jerks himself off.

“Oh, oh fuck, please, I-I’m gonna come, Bucky,” you cry out, and Bucky thumbs at the tip of his cock; wrist twisting towards the head. 

“Come for me, baby. C-Cream all over your pretty fingers — come for me, come for me,” Bucky’s words drive you over the edge.

Your walls flutter emptily; begging to be filled as you come undone under your fingers. It’s cloud nine, riding out your high on your familiar fingers. Thighs trembling and soaked with your wetness, hips canting up into nothing as you finish on your fingers. Gasping and squealing out until you’re reduced to pathetic whimpers.

Bucky watches you all the while. Fucking his fist and growling out through his bared teeth when you come. Reaching his own orgasm and painting his fist in thick stripes of creamy white that you want to lick clean. He pants, face flushed as his cock spills his heavy load. Staining the denim of his jeans and leaving a mess (though he’s careful of the couch). 

You both slump into the couch, still facing one another when the high has passed. Panting for air, the smell of sex and sweat heavy in the air. You’re the one to break the quiet with an airy giggle, which Bucky grinds widely in response to.

“Are you alright, honey..?” Bucky asks curiously, his own voice hoarse and quiet. “Perfect. How’s about a shower…? You’ve already seen me from the stomach down, I’ve already seen your dick. That’s practically all we have. Nothing to hide,” you offer with a roughness to your own voice, swallowing thickly. You smile, still lingering in the soft air of the post-orgasmic haze.

“Sounds perfect, baby. I’ll go get the shower runnin’, okay?” Bucky offers, tucking his mess back into his underwear (he won’t be wearing them much longer anyways). Scooting forward, he uses his clean hand to cup the back of your head and press a gentle kiss to your temple. 

You nod with a soft, ‘mhm’. Enjoying the settling moment's peace and serenity despite the cooling wetness coating your thighs. Moving will be awful but it was well worth it.

Bucky certainly leaves an impression. Kicking off the evening with flowers and a ride to the art museum, strolling the halls lovingly with him while partaking in art, only to come back to your apartment and masturbate together. Bucky might be more full of surprises than you thought. You couldn’t be more excited.

[adachimoe]

do you have any posts about adachi's arcana and how it relates to him? i would love to hear your thoughts about it! ❤

sry i think i will finally be caught up on my asks now lol

I did post before about what Atlus said about both his arcana in the P4G lore book. My personal thoughts... ook tbh I think I haven't talked much about this over the past ~1.5 yrs because I am super duper not interested in tarot or the meanings behind it lol. The 0 card, Jester / Fool, feels pretty straightforward enough, but the 11 card, Hunger / Lust, is probably where this gets more interesting?

Like Marie and Aigis's Aeon, Lust is also taken from Crowley's Thoth tarot deck, and the design of the card is clearly inspired by it too. Instead of talking about the actual tarot meanings and the Book of Thoth, I will totally yap about what seems to be depicted in the art here and how it might correlate to the game.

From left to right, there's the Rider Waite Strength, Crowley's Lust, and the game's Lust / Hunger.

As Crowley's Thoth card is his version of Strength, both the Rider-Waite Strength and Crowley's Lust depict a woman and a beast with the woman seemingly taming the beast or holding it back in some manner. Strength shows the woman with her hand on the beast. The beast in Crowley's Lust appears to have seven heads, likely making it the seven headed beast from the Bible. Additionally, the art seems to imply that the woman is not actually in control - she holds the beast's leash, but she carelessly lays on its back. I get the impression that, rather than the woman having actually tamed the beast, it's more like the beast is allowing itself to be tamed; she believes she is in control.

The artwork of Adachi's Lust seems to have the opposite meaning to Crowley's. The beast is, I guess you could say, no longer allowing itself to be tamed. It's going to do something A Little Crazy!, it's gonna go postal!, and the woman is now in danger as she is about to be devoured by the beast. Her pose somewhat resembles the same pose she as on Crowley's Lust, where she carelessly lays on the back of the 7 headed biblical beast. Like the game's Lust doesn't depict her as in any sort of panic - perhaps she is oblivious to her demise?

Within the context of the story, Adachi seems to go from being "the beast allowing itself to be tamed" on Crowley's Lust to being "the beast who is gonna do something silly" on the game's Lust. His arcana even changes after he's exposed as the murderer, as if to show that he's no longer being held down.

Why Adachi would be associated with Lust to begin with... Might seem straightforward in that he's a single dude complaining about not having a girlfriend. But also of note is that in the existing Japanese translations of information about the Thoth deck, the card is actually called 欲望, which means "Desire" and not necessarily "Sexual Desire" as Lust would imply. And indeed, Adachi didn't just Lust for a hot wife who cooks for him, he Desired a whole life that he didn't have as a Cool Respected Hotshot Detective in a big city.

But while Adachi appears to be doin' the devouring, at the same time, the depiction of the woman being devoured by the beast also seems to correlate with Adachi's story.

His arc has a bit of "Fuck around and find out" to it - He uses the TV to murder people, jumps in the TV out of desperation, and assumes it's giving him everything he wanted; really granting his wishes and whatnot. But ultimately, Izanami seems to have been using him for her own ends. Thus, in some way, he can also be correlated to the woman holding down the beast in Crowley's Lust, only to have it backfire on her in the game's Lust.

When I read Atlus's thoughts about his arcana, I get the impression they only meant it to have the "Adachi is the beast" reading because they talk about it having a "do whatever the heck you want" meaning, so perhaps being able to see Adachi as the woman is unintended!

They have something interesting where they mention that the Lust arcana is also supposed to represent the protagonist... Aaand this is where the whole "Atlus thought they were naming it 'Desire'" thing comes into play lol. In addition to Adachi's bullshit, it's also supposed to represent the protagonist's "desire" to break apart from Adachi after seeing the truth about him. (So like, phrasing this as "the protag's LUST or the protag's HUNGER to break apart from Adachi" is weird as hell lol.) The arcana doesn't transform until after the protagonist tries to appeal to Adachi and get him to turn himself in, so it seems that, until that moment, their bond was still the Fool / Jester.

I feel like this is totally not what you asked me but I am reallllly not interested in Crowley/Tarot/etc sry

[deanstead]

There Will Be Peace (4): Kids Are Horrible

Chapter 4: Kids Are Horrible

Chapter Summary: With no further clues on Corson, Sam finds another case to keep the three of them occupied.

Word Count: 2.6K+

Warnings: mentions of suicide, bullying, implied sexism

A/N: Okay, I know I am the absolute worst but I didn't give up on this fic, I promise! Things have just been a little crazy and writer's block is the worst thing ever. Hope you guys will like this though!

SERIES MASTERLIST || DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST

Chapter 3 || Chapter 5

You looked out the window at the greenery that was shooting past you as Dean drove the Impala into town.

In a bid to get three of you out of the bunker and out of the crushing feeling of impossibility of tracking Corson down, Sam had found a case. Dean had glanced at you but nodded.

You weren’t really in the position to argue to be really honest. You’d barely felt like you started to belong with Dean and Sam, barely felt like they’d accepted you, so even if you were reluctant to put down the research, you did.

Kids had been dropping like flies at a high school, which normally wouldn’t have set off the ‘supernatural alarm’. Except Sam had noticed this time - the police couldn’t find anything, most of the deaths had happened behind closed doors with no signs of forced entry.

Dean pulled up at the first diner, glancing into the mirror, back at you. “Let’s go.”

You nodded, climbing out of the Impala, pushing open the door of the diner and sliding into a booth seat. Dean was right behind you sliding in next to you as Sam took the seat opposite.

“Alright, look. Three kids from the same school, all dead in the past week. There’s something going on here.”

Dean nodded, waving at the waitress to bring you all coffee. “We let you drag our asses down here, we get it.”

You smiled. The word ‘we’ had a nice ring to it. It wasn’t the first time Dean or Sam had used it to describe you and them but it was mostly in the context of a hunt, while they were speaking to others, so you liked that Dean had grouped you with him while talking to Sam today.

Sam handed you the papers and you nodded. “They’re looking at this as suicides, aren’t they?”

Sam raised his eyebrow. “How did you guess?”

Dean smiled, flashing you a smile and winking. “She’s a freaking genius, that’s how. You’re not the only genius anymore, Sammy.” He lightly teased his younger brother.

You laughed. “It’s this thing they taught us in the academy.” You paused. Thinking about the academy still gave your heart a twist sometimes, it felt like a lifetime away, but you could still remember the shout of glee Leah had let out when you’d told her, the proud smiles of your parents.

You cleared your throat, realising you’d let the pause hang on too long. Sam just gave you a smile, Dean took a sip of his coffee, as if the pause hadn’t even happened.

“We had a whole class on trying to differentiate crimes made to look like suicides, and actual suicides. It drove me crazy. So three kids? Same cause of death?”

Sam shook his head. “First one, Charlie Moore, was found hanging from a tree, above the soccer field. Then Kate Morgan drowned in the toilet bowl.”

Dean made a face. “For real?”

You glanced at the clippings in front of you. “Seriously? They think the head cheerleader’s gonna drown herself in the toilet bowl? There are more graceful ways for her to die.”

“Third kid, Daniel Hill, apparently suffocated in his locker.” You commented, pushing the paper towards Dean.

“What the hell.” Dean exhaled.

“Alright, we’ll hit the school first.” Dean said, draining his cup of coffee.

You looked up at him. “All of us?”

Dean smiled. “Ready, Agent?”

You grinned back at him.

You slowed as you reached the main doors of the high school.

“You okay?” Dean touched your elbow gently.

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I just... thought of Leah.”

Dean gave you a small smile and patted you on the back. You shook your head. “My head’s in the game, I got this.”

“I know.” Dean responded, squeezing your shoulder and allowing you to take the lead into the school and into the main office at the front of the school.

You pulled out your badge. “I’m Agent Day, these are my colleagues Agent Rogers and Fletcher.” You pointed to Dean and Sam. “We’re here to see Principal Jones.”

She nodded, her eyes glancing over your badges before she pointed to the seats to have you wait.

It was merely minutes before the principal was stepping out of his office, offering his hand to Dean first even though you’d stepped up. You mentally rolled your eyes. Typical. He shook Dean’s hand, then Sam’s, almost glazing over you before Sam cleared his throat. “This is Agent Day.”

Principal Jones paused, before he realised what he’d done. “Forgive me, Miss.”

“It’s Agent, thanks.” You snapped, catching the nasty thought in your head that it was no wonder crappy things were happening in this school.

Dean reached over and squeezed your hand, making you look up in a little surprise as you felt something almost like an electrical surge travel through your body at Dean’s touch. You’d grown close to the Winchesters, and although Sam was outwardly much warmer than Dean, you’d always felt more connected to Dean, even when he’d been less than friendly for the first few weeks.

Even so, Dean had never made such intimate physical contact with you. Not really. He’d ruffle your hair, put his hand on your head kind of affectionately, he’d even give you a hug but nothing that felt as intimate as him holding your hand.

There were only two chairs in the room but Dean and Sam took them as you stood behind them. It had its intended effect, coupled with how you’d snapped at him earlier. Jones avoided eye contact with you, but it was different now, it held a tinge of embarrassment.

“Why is the FBI investigating a case of high school suicide?” Principal Jones asked now, and you could even hear defensiveness now.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Because it isn’t one suicide. These are kids.”

Jones cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”

“We’ll need their files, and we’ll need to interview faculty and students.” You told him.

Jones looked at Dean, as if he was confirming what you’d asked for. Dean raised his eyebrows. “What she said.” He said, letting a tone of annoyance slip past his lips.

Jones showed you out of his office, directing you to the student counselor, who was supposed to know the kids better.

“What a dick.” Dean muttered under his breath as he left.

Sam rolled his eyes in agreement with Dean.

You smiled.

The three of you had split up.

The school had arranged for student interviews, so you’d headed towards the girls' classrooms, while Sam headed for the boys. Dean had said he’d go speak to the counselor.

You sat across from a girl who had obvious highlight streaks in her hair and who just looked bored.

“Did you know Kate Morgan well?” You asked, looking up at her.

She shrugged. “Just that she’s a bitch.”

You raised your eyebrows. “A bitch?”

“You know the type, they strut around school like they own the whole damn building. I kept out of her way and these definitely helped.” She pointed to her highlights and her piercings.

“So she was a bully?” You asked.

The girl shrugged again. “I guess. She kept a lower profile after Sarah died. But that didn’t last for long either.”

You frowned. You remembered Sam saying the other two victims were boys. “Sarah?”

The girl pressed her lips together before she leaned closer. “Sarah Smith.” She pushed herself out from the seat and walked out.

You quickly pulled out your phone, sending Dean a text.

Sarah Smith.

You looked up just as another girl took the seat across from you. The last interview for today at least. She was quiet and didn’t have an air of confidence about her, so you smiled at her. “Hey, don't be nervous alright? We just have a few questions.”

She nodded and smiled back at you tentatively.

“So, did you know Kate Morgan?” You prompted gently.

She looked up at you, readjusting the glasses sitting on her nose. “Everyone did.” She answered quietly. “But she didn’t talk to me. Just Sarah.”

Your eyebrows shot up now, this was the second time you were hearing her name. “Sarah?”

“Sarah Smith. We were… friends.” She answered, her voice going even softer.

You fell quiet for a bit. “What happened to Sarah?”

The girl sitting in front of you looked up towards you quietly. “They just told us she died.”

She looked like she was hesitating so you leaned forward. “Do you know something?”

She shook her head. “Just that I don’t think Sarah killed herself.”

You sighed. “Has there been anything weird happening at school recently?”

“Weird?”

You nodded, “Like things that can’t be explained, cold spots in the school?”

She frowned but shook her head. “No.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Sam hadn’t had much luck with the other kids too, the other kids didn’t seem to want to talk much, at least not about the three victims, but Sam and you had both picked up on one thing.

“I think the three of them are bullies.” You said, leaning back in your chair and looking back at Sam and Dean. Dean’s eyebrows shot up but Sam nodded. “I got that vibe, but the boys didn’t say much.”

You looked up at Dean, now. “How was the counselor?”

“Guy’s freaking weird.” Dean made a face. “He gave me these but Sarah Smith? He fed me some cock-and-bull about the records getting lost or filed away, he could barely keep the story straight.”

You didn’t say anything, not even looking up until Dean waved at you. “Yoohoo, Y/N?”

You blinked. “Sorry. Two girls mentioned Sarah’s death and it’s just a theory but I think Sarah was being bullied.”

You looked up at Sam. “And if these kids are bullies...”

“You think we’re dealing with Sarah’s ghost?” Sam asked.

“And she’s going after her bullies.” Dean said.

You sighed, “I hate this case already.”

Sam had stayed behind to do more research so you’d set off for Sarah's house with Dean.

Dean knocked, glancing at you, right before the door was opened. “Mrs Smith?”

The older woman nodded her head at Dean, a puzzled expression on her face.

“We’re from the Education Department. Can we come in?” You asked, and you saw her face change a little before she stepped back.

“Come on in.”

You followed her into her sitting room, your eyes lighting on the photos of her with a younger girl, which must have been Sarah. You really hated this part.

Dean reached over, discreetly patting your hand to tell you he’d lead it as the both of you sat down, which you were thankful for.

“Mrs Smith, we’re here about Sarah. Can you tell us more about her? How did she feel about school, maybe?” Dean asked.

Your eyes scanned the room, like you’d been trained to do at the academy, but better still, like how the Winchesters had taught you.

Sarah was obviously extremely loved as an only child and her mother had kept up all the photos of her around their living room. You listened as she tried to tell Dean about Sarah, about how Sarah had always been a girl that was full of life and was like a beam of sunshine, until the last three months. She told the both of you how she’d been told that Sarah had killed herself and how she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go to the school to get Sarah’s things yet.

You sat up a little straighter. “I could tell something was going on, but she’s a teenager. She stopped talking to me. I thought it was about a boy or you know, that she’d fought with a friend, but I didn’t think…” Her voice broke and you reached over to hold her hand.

“So you buried her?” Dean asked.

You glanced alarmingly at Dean as Mrs Smith frowned at the strange question. “No, we cremated her. What does that…”

You turned back to her and just gave her a small smile. “Thank you for seeing us, Mrs Smith.”

“They told me Sarah killed herself. Does this mean…”

You exchanged a look with Dean and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. They just sent us out to follow up with the school.”

“Because of the other kids?” She asked, her voice holding a tinge of sadness.

“And Sarah. Because of all of them.” You told her.

Sam turned towards the door as he heard it open. “Hey, anything?”

You gave him a totally insincere smile. “Cremated.”

Sam groaned.

“So what do you think? Is it Sarah?” You leaned over Sam, reading over his shoulder before you groaned. “The kids were right, Kate Morgan was a bitch.”

Dean couldn’t help the chuckle. “So let’s hit the school tonight.”

“And find what, Dean? What the hell are we supposed to burn?” Sam asked.

Dean sighed as he sat himself on the edge of his bed.

“Alright, let’s do it.” You said, turning to look at Dean. “We’ll find her locker, maybe there’s something there and we can hit the counselor’s office and look for her file too.”

The three of you made your way into the high school like how you always did, the boys making sure you were in the middle. At first, it had seemed like they didn’t trust you, but you’d realized later that they were keeping you safe in their own way.

Sam opened the door, letting you and Dean slip in as he closed the door again.

You made your way through the school quietly, Sam headed for the counselor’s office while you headed straight for where you remembered the lockers were. You picked at the lock, opening the locker quickly. It swung open and your eyes fell on the journal immediately.

“Dean, light.”

Dean scooted closer towards you and you fingered through the pages, stopping at a later entry - about the bullying, about how they’d turned on her when they were supposed to be her friends. You turned your eyes up towards Dean, who was also scanning the page.

“Kids are horrible.” You whispered.

Dean looked at you.

“Kids are horrible.” You repeated. They were. You’d never experienced the extent of what Kate had, never had a group of kids tie you to a tree or stuff you into your locker for a whole period, but you knew how torturous high school could be.

“Yeah, Sam kind of…” Dean trailed off, shining the torch down the aisle.

You leafed through the diary faster, your eyes scanning the pages even more quickly now.

He took my friendship bracelet.

“Friendship bracelet.” You muttered. “They took it from her.”

“How the hell are we supposed to find a friendship bracelet?” Dean snapped.

“I don’t know. Let’s just… come on let’s go see if Sam found her file.” You said, moving forward.

You’d made it barely halfway across the hall when you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Dean turned to look at you, holding his gun out, a sudden force knocking you backwards, tumbling into the classroom behind you.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, as you heard the door shut and the lock click into place.

Dean rushed against the door, peering in through the small window each classroom door had.

You recognized her from the photos in her living room.

Sarah.

You reached for your gun but she rushed at you, taking your head in her hands. You felt a weird sensation before your eyes rolled and you felt it wash over you as your body lost its energy and you crumpled onto the ground, Dean's muffled voice on the other side of the door the last thing you heard.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

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[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 324: Is There a Force Field Around Him??

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal was all “please tell Midoriya that I spent a concerningly small amount of money upgrading U.A. into a wacky physics-defying funtime grid so as to make the final battle much more confusing for everyone.” Present Day!Mic (or Present!Mic, if you will) and Jeanist were all “if only somebody could deescalate this dangerously unhinged mob, we’ve tried nothing and we’re all out of ideas.” Ochako was all “LISTEN UP PEOPLE.” The mob was all, “god??” Ochako was all, “NO, IT’S ME, OCHAKO. I’M REALLY HIGH UP ON THIS BUILDING AND THE VISIBILITY IS LOW DUE TO THE RAIN, SO I CAN SEE HOW YOU MIGHT MAKE THAT MISTAKE. ANYWAYS, DEKU WAS OUT THERE RISKING HIS LIFE FOR YOU CLOWNS EVEN THOUGH HE’S JUST A KID, SO I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU COULD ALL REMEMBER HOW TO BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS, THANKS.” Let’s see if her Big Scolding Energy has any impact.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so I have this speech planned out, and it’s really good, but it also only really needs about 6 to 8 pages, but I’m gonna see if I can stretch it out to 17 pages so I can kill time before we get to the next volume cliffhanger two weeks from now.” Anyway but it really is a good speech though. There are feels, and tears, and more talk about how Deku is so in need of a shower that just looking at him requires a tetanus booster, and more feels, and more tears, and bonus ship drama, and an iconic callback to the very first chapter which reframes the entire series in a new context in a totally epic and moving way, and it’s all very good. Except that Horikoshi is determined to never let anyone actually give this kid a hug. Who hurt you, dude.

omg we are opening on a callback to chapter 212, a.k.a. the chapter with by far the cutest flashback that doesn’t involve any baby Todorokis

baby Ochako is lethally cute. she could literally murder someone with her cuteness. I just want to scoop her up and play airplane with her until she accidentally activates her quirk while we’re spinning around and we both helicopter up into the air never to be seen again

“a child’s insistence” huh well that’s all well and good, but I sure hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to drag out the whole “sternly lecture the obnoxious citizens” plot for another whole chapter. no offense but I think we’re good

so page 2 is just continuing the whole happy/worried faces monologue, which of course is very important to Ochako’s character as it provides the context for why “who protects the heroes” ended up becoming her thing. and this is making me think we actually are in for a whole second chapter of this sob. when will my boy finally get to rest

OH MY GOD SUDDENLY THESE PEOPLE HAVE EYES IMAGINE THAT

HORIKOSHI: [reaches for a box of tissues while tearfully penning an homage to his beloved Spider-Man 2, specifically the train scene where the crowd sees Peter without his mask and they suddenly realize just how young he is]

HORIKOSHI’S HOMAGE SCENE: “COME TO THINK OF IT, I GUESS IT WAS KIND OF MEAN FOR US TO PICK ON THIS TEN YEAR OLD KID WHO WEIGHS 75 POUNDS AND LOOKS LIKE HE LOST A FIGHT WITH SATAN’S MOLDY OLD BASEMENT”

lol at this one guy who can feel the mood of the crowd shifting and is all “WAIT, NO, I WANTED TO KEEP BEING AN ASSHOLE DAMMIT”

as many pointed out last week, this man is wearing an All Might shirt. that’s some fantastic irony there

-- SDKFJWIGKS

“LITTLE GIRL, I HOPE YOU’RE NOT SUGGESTING THAT WE SHOULD ALL BE WALKING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A SOVIET-ERA BUS STOP.” heh. last week I said I was ashamed of BnHA being my favorite manga. that was a lie, actually

(ETA: in the original Japanese Ochako’s next two lines are basically “the only ones covered in mud will be us heroes!” followed by “please give us some time to get rid of the mud”, with that second line basically being the single funniest thing I’ve ever read rdslkjl. Ochako thank you so much for supporting my running gags. “YEAH WE KNOW HE’S DIRTY. WE ARE GONNA TRY AND CLEAN HIM UP, BUT IT MAY TAKE A WHILE, I’M JUST SAYING. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM. HE LOOKS LIKE AN ASBESTOS COSPLAY.”)

doesn’t the megaphone kind of look ever so slightly like an axe that she’s wielding maniacally here

easy there Lizzie Borden

also that’s a really bold claim to make there. and not one she necessarily should have to make, either. but as we all know, there’s nothing that shounen manga likes more than having its heroes bravely hoist heavy burdens of responsibility like good self-sacrificing citizens

p.s. lowkey loving how Kacchan is positioned here standing slightly behind Deku. not presuming to stand in front of him all overprotectively (because he would hate if anyone ever did that to him), and kind of being unobtrusive and letting others take center stage -- but still being close enough to Deku that he can catch him if he stumbles or passes out again

(ETA: or maybe not lmao.

DEKU: [falls to his knees]

KACCHAN: [glancing up from his phone a few minutes later] “someone just sent me the stupidest meme about milk crates -- oh. uh. you good...?”

really, son. “the burdens you can’t carry, we’ll carry them for you. ...later, I mean. right now it’s late, and we’re all cold and wet.”)

also lowkey loving this OchaTsu moment here

I was going back and binging Ochako chapters this past week for reasons, and I gotta say it really stuck out to me just how often these two are paired with each other. they do everything together. it’s a really sweet friendship that often goes unappreciated but it’s very cute

meanwhile, not to be outdone by the OchaTsu, Iida is staring at Ochako with open admiration talking about how she’s fighting too. it’s been so long since we’ve had any IidaRaka you guys. I was starving and I didn’t even know it

oh my lord IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING

THE LIGHT IS BACK. he finally looks like him again. what a cathartic fucking moment omg

ffklkdw

“I KNOW YOU ARE ALL SCARED, BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS, WE DEFINITELY CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY AND WE ARE ALL SCARED TOO!” good pep talk there kiddo

BUT, jokes aside, truth be told this is the exact right approach to take imo, and something that’s long overdue. I’ve said this before, but this new generation of heroes is shaping up to be much more transparent than the All Might generation. they’re basically abandoning the almighty, untouchable Superman “heroes as gods” concept in favor of the more nuanced “heroes as people” concept instead. and that’s a good thing. seeing their heroes as humans, with human limitations and weaknesses and flaws, will hopefully not only lead to more scrutiny and accountability, but also more awareness of how hard some of them are working and how much they’re sacrificing. that’s something All Might never quite grasped back at the start of the series -- that the weak, vulnerable, injured him could be just as inspiring as the mighty, invincible him -- perhaps even more so. there’s a power in seeing otherwise ordinary people show extraordinary bravery and compassion. it inspires others to try and do the same

SSDLHK AIZAWA SIGHTING AAHHHHHH

so he was still back at the hospital this whole time?? smdh at this disrespect. that feeling when your sexy self-insert character’s powers of rationality are too strong, and so you have to nerf him so that he doesn’t ruin your Deku Angst arc twice over by (1) immediately talking some sense into Deku and making him come home Right This Instant Young Man, and (2) not allowing him to leave U.A. in the first fucking place. excuse me, you want to do WHAT now, Midoriya?? that’s it, go to your room

also living for Katsuki and Hawks’s soft expressions. Shouto’s too, although his is tinier and harder to see. and Jeanist’s 12-foot-long neck. imagine Jeanist’s head with Mic’s hair. maybe Jeanist had a mohawk back in the day and that’s why U.A.’s doors are so big now

speaking of soft faces, Enji’s is also excellent

what could this random close-up possibly imply?? hell if I know. but Horikoshi truly fears no discourse and that’s what I love about him

OMGGGG

“smh my child is so dumb.” poor Ochadad. your child is cute af count your blessings

SDOFFHSMH

I’m telling you guys. lethally, catastrophically cute

this speech is still ongoing lol. Horikoshi you’re doing so good but I think we get the point now my dude. you gotta learn how to transition out of these things

UNEXPECTED TOGA WHAT

“there we go” Horikoshi says, crossing off the last line on his list of Ochako ships. “that’s all of ‘em”

poor Ochako is just repeating the same “LET HIM REST, PLEASE, WITH EVERYONE’S COOPERATION, IF YOU DON’T MIND, WE APPRECIATE IT” talking points over and over again hoping someone will throw her a bone and acknowledge her already. SOMEONE PLEASE HELP HER

literally they’re all just staring up at her silently omg. work with me people!!

now she’s saying it for the 56th time but more dramatically all of a sudden

they got so dramatic that for a minute I thought she had suddenly leaped off the building or something

look, not to rush you or anything Horikoshi, but I’m starting to get the feeling that this is yet another one of those “the volume is ending soon so I need to either hurry things up or slow things down in order to make sure we end it on my perfect cliffhanger ending” chapters where you go to ridiculous lengths to drag things out much to the exasperation of your week-to-week readers

(ETA: ftr, volume 31 ended on chapter 306, and I’m predicting that vol. 32 will end with chapter 316 (a.k.a. “you’re next!” [explodes]). I’m guessing vol. 33 will follow suit and likely end on chapter 326, so keep your eyes peeled for a big cliffhanger in two weeks’ time. Deku’s dad?? All Might in peril?? U.A. traitor at long fucking last?? we shall see.)

is Deku straight up falling in love with Ochako right on the spot lol what is happening

I know I just said that I enjoy when Horikoshi gives zero fucks about discourse, but shipping discourse is a whole different beast lol. I hope he’s prepared

(ETA: and for the record, I have no interest in shipping discourse either, as always. and I think this scene can be interpreted as platonic, tbh, with the context being that Ochako was literally introduced as someone who was willing to help him so casually without a second thought, and now here she is saving him again.

I don’t think it really fully hit Deku until this moment how much he needed saving. like I said in another meta somewhere, selflessness is basically just selfishness on behalf of others. and Deku is selfless to a fault, but that’s okay, and it doesn’t mean he needs to change -- he just needs friends who are willing to be be selfish on his behalf in turn. and I think the full emotion of what it means to have friends like that just hit him at last. everything his friends have done for him, how much he needed it and didn’t even realize, and how grateful he is. anyways what a terrible day for rain.)

-- son of a --

is he apologizing?? or pleading?? please tell me that’s not the case, because what the actual fuck. Deku you beautiful precious radiant selfless child, this is the exact opposite of how this should be. all these motherfuckers should be on their knees apologizing to you

DEKU WHY

I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS FREAKING BOMBARDMENT OF EMOTIONS GODDAMIT. OUT HERE ARMED WITH YOUR FREAKING TREBUCHET OF FEELS TO LAUNCH AT ME UNPROVOKED. WHAT’S WITH THAT

FREAKING CHRIST. THIS BOY IS CRYING HIS EYES OUT AND HORIKOSHI IS JUST ZOOMING IN WITH THE CAMERA, LIKE CAN WE JUST CUT HIM A BREAK ALREADY. ENOUGH OF THIS. HE’S SO YOUNG AND HE TRIES SO HARD AND I JUST NEED HIM TO FEEL SAFE, HORIKOSHI PLEASE CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME THAT ALREADY WHAT IS THE FREAKING HOLD UP!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY!!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY PLEASE BE MY HUGGER BY PROXY!! SERIOUSLY GIRL IF YOU JUST HOLD YOUR UMBRELLA OVER HIM OR SOMETHING AND DON’T GO THE EXTRA MILE I’M ABOUT TO LODGE AN OFFICIAL COMPLAINT. THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS NOW

!!!!

A KOUTA IS GOOD TOO!!! oh my god if Kouta hugs him I will seriously 100% straight up cry. go on and test me

FOR THE LOVE OF --

is this man expressly forbidden from drawing hugs in his contract or something. DO YOU DO IT JUST TO SPITE ME?? this is tyranny, sir

AND I KNOW, THIS PAGE ACTUALLY CHALLENGED THE VERY PREMISE OF THE SERIES ITSELF, AND HERE I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT HUGS, OR THE LACK THEREOF. “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes.” and just like that, he waves a polite middle finger at all of the Strongest Greatest Chosen One shounen protags of old, in favor of something much less conventional, much more interesting, and much more suited to Deku’s character. because if that one sentence doesn’t just sum up Deku to a T. he gladly relinquishes his Greatest Hero status in favor of acknowledging the hero in everyone. what a class act. that’s my protagonist

I love this kid so fucking much I swear. only just PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. GIVE HIM HIS HUG

[thevalleyisjolly]

Hi there! If you feel up to it, would you be willing to expand a bit more on the idea of white creators creating poc characters who are ‘internally white’, especially in a post-racialized or racism-free setting & how to avoid it? It’s something I’m very concerned about but I haven’t encountered a lot of info about it outside of stories set in real world settings. Thanks & have a good day!

Hey, thanks for asking, anon!  It’s a pretty nuanced topic, and different people will have different takes on it.  I’ll share my thoughts on it, but do keep in mind that other people of colour may have different thoughts on the matter, and this is by no means definitive!  These are things I’ve observed through research, trial and error, my own experiences, or just learning from other writers.

The first thing I guess I want to clarify is that I personally am not opposed to a society without racism in fiction.  It’s exhausting and frankly boring when the only stories that characters of colour get are about racism!  So it’s a relief sometimes to just get to see characters of colour exist in a story without dealing with racism.  That being said, I feel like a lot of the time when creators establish their settings as “post-racial,” they avoid racism but they also avoid race altogether.  Not aesthetically -they may have a few or even many characters with dark skin- but the way the characters act and talk and relate to the world are “race-less” (which tends to end up as default white American/British or whatever place the creator comes from).  Which I have complicated thoughts on, but the most obvious thing that springs to mind is how such an approach implies (deliberately or not) that racism is all there is to the way POC navigate the world.  It’s definitely a significant factor, particularly for POC in Western countries, but it’s not the only thing!  There’s so much more to our experiences than just racial discrimination, and it’s a shame that a lot of “post-racial” or “racism-free” settings seem to overlook that in their eagerness to not have racism (or race) in their stories.

A quick go-to question I ask when I look at characters of colour written/played by white creators is: if this was a story or transcript I was reading, with no art or actors or what have you, would I be able to tell that this character is a character of colour?  How does the creator signal to the audience that this is a character of colour?  A lot of the time, this signal stops after the physical description - “X has dark skin” and then that’s all!  (We will not discuss the issue of racial stereotypes in depth, but it should be clear that those are absolutely the wrong way to indicate a character of colour).

This expands to a wider issue of using dark skin as a be-all-end-all indication of diversity, which is what I mean by “aesthetic” characters of colour (I used the term “internally white” originally but upon further reflection, it has some very loaded implications, many of which I’m personally familiar with, so I apologize for the usage).  Yes, the character may not “look” white, but how do they interact with the world?  Where do they come from?  What is their background, their family?  A note: this can be challenging with diaspora stories in the real world and people being disconnected (forcibly or otherwise) from their heritage (in which case, those are definitely stories that outsiders should not tell).  So let’s look at fantasy.  Even the most original writer in the world bases their world building off existing things in the real world.  So what cultures are you basing your races off of?  If you have a dark skinned character in your fantasy story, what are the real world inspirations and equivalents that you drew from, and how do you acknowledge that in a respectful, non-stereotyped way?

(Gonna quickly digress here and say that there are already so many stories about characters of colour disconnected from their heritage because ‘They didn’t grow up around other people from that culture’ or ‘They moved somewhere else and grew up in that dominant culture’ or ‘It just wasn’t important to them growing up’ and so on.  These are valid stories, and important to many people!  But when told by (usually) white creators, they’re also used, intentionally or not, as a sort of cop-out to avoid having to research or think about the character’s ethnicity and how that influences who they are.  So another point of advice: avoid always situating characters outside of their heritage.  Once or twice explored with enough nuance and it can be an interesting narrative, all the time and it starts being a problem)

Another thing I want to clarify at this point is that it’s a contentious issue about whether creators should tell stories that aren’t theirs, and different people will have different opinions.  For me personally, I definitely don’t think it’s inherently bad for creators to have diverse characters in their work, and no creator can live every experience there is.  That being said, there are caveats for how such characters are handled.  For me personally, I follow a few rules of thumb which are:

Is this story one that is appropriate for this creator to tell?  Some experiences are unique and lived with a meaningful or complex history and context behind them and the people to whom those experiences belong do not want outsiders to tell those stories.

To what extent is the creator telling this story?  Is it something mentioned as part of the narrative but not significantly explored or developed upon?  Does it form a core part of the story or character?  There are some stories that translate across cultures and it’s (tentatively) ok to explore more in depth, like immigration or intergenerational differences.  There are some stories that don’t, and shouldn’t be explored in detail (or even at all) by people outside those cultures.

How is the creator approaching this story and the people who live it?  To what extent have they done their research?  What discussions have they had with sensitivity consultants/readers?  What kind of respect are they bringing to their work?  Do they default to stereotypes and folk knowledge when they reach the limits of their research?  How do they respond to feedback or criticism when audiences point things that they will inevitably get wrong?

Going back to the “race-less” point, I think that creators need to be careful that they’re (respectfully) portraying characters of colour as obvious persons of colour.  With a very definite ‘no’ on stereotyping, of course, so that’s where the research comes in (which should comprise of more than a ten minute Google search).  If your setting is in the real world, what is the background your character comes from and how might that influence the way they act or talk or see the world?  If your setting is in a fantasy world, same question!  Obviously, avoid depicting things which are closed/exclusive to that culture (such as religious beliefs, practices, etc) and again, avoid stereotyping (which I cannot stress enough), but think about how characters might live their lives and experience the world differently based on the culture or the background they come from.

As an example of a POC character written/played well by a white person, I personally like Jackson Wei and Cindy Wong from Dimension 20’s The Unsleeping City, an urban fantasy D&D campaign.  Jackson and Cindy are NPCs played by the DM, Brennan Lee Mulligan, who did a good job acknowledging their ethnicity without resorting to stereotypes and while giving them their own unique characters and personalities.  The first time he acted as Cindy, I leapt up from my chair because she was exactly like so many old Chinese aunties and grandmothers I’ve met.  The way Jackson and Cindy speak and act and think is very Chinese (without being stereotyped), but at the same time, there’s more to their characters than being Chinese, they have unique and important roles in the story that have nothing to do with their ethnicity.  So it’s obvious that they’re people of colour, that they’re Chinese, but at the same time, the DM isn’t overstepping and trying to tell stories that aren’t his to tell.  All while not having the characters face any racism, as so many “post-racialized” settings aim for, because there are quite enough stories about that!

There a couple factors that contribute to the positive example I gave above.  The DM is particularly conscientious about representation and doing his research (not to say that he never messes up, but he puts in a lot more effort than the average creator), and the show also works with a lot of sensitivity consultants.  Which takes me to the next point - the best way to portray characters of colour in your story is to interact with people from that community.  Make some new friends, reach out to people!  Consume media by creators of colour!  In my experience so far, the most authentic Chinese characters have almost universally been created/written/played by Chinese creators.  Read books, listen to podcasts, watch shows created by people of colour.  Apart from supporting marginalized creators, you also start to pick up how people from that culture or heritage see themselves and the world, what kind of stories they have to tell, and just as importantly, what kind of stories they want being told or shared.  In other words, the best way to portray an authentic character of colour that is more than just the colour of their skin is to learn from actual people of colour (without, of course, treating them just as a resource and, of course, with proper credit and acknowledgement).

Most importantly, this isn’t easy, and you will absolutely make mistakes.  I think the most important thing to keep in mind is that you will mess up.  No matter how well researched you are, how much respect you have for other cultures, how earnestly you want to do this right, you will at some point do something that makes your POC audience uncomfortable or even offends them.  Then, your responsibility comes with your response.  Yes, you’ve done something wrong.  How do you respond to the people who are hurt or disappointed?  Do you ignore them, or double down on your words, or try to defend yourself?  Just as importantly, what are you planning to do about it in the future?  If you have a second chance, what are you going to do differently?  You will make mistakes at some point.  So what are you going to do about them?  That, I think, is an even more important question than “How can I do this right?”  You may or may not portray something accurately, but when you get something wrong, how are you going to respond?

Essentially, it all comes down to your responsibility as a creator.  As a creator, you have a responsibility to do your due diligence in research, to remain respectful to your work and to your audience, and to be careful and conscientious about how you choose to create things.  It’s not about getting things absolutely perfect or being the most socially conscious creator out there, it’s about recognizing your responsibilities as a creator with a platform, no matter how big or small, and taking responsibility for your work. 

In summary:

Research, research, research

Avoid the obvious no-no’s (stereotypes, tokenization, fetishization, straight up stealing from other cultures, etc) and think critically about what creative choices you’re making and why

Do what you’re doing now, and reach out to people (who have put themselves out there as a resource).  There are tons of resources out there by people of colour, reach out when you’re not sure about something or would like some advice!

Responsibility, responsibility, responsibility

Thank you for reaching out!  Good luck with your work!

[one-boring-person]

Can You Do Me A Favour?

Barney Ross (The Expendables) x reader

Warnings: injury, drinking, sexual content implied, mentions of violence, swearing

Context: the reader is a member of the Expendables and has a crush on Barney. After a job, the two have some time together.

A/N: as promised, here is some Expendables stuff! I hope anyone who reads this will enjoy it! (Just a heads up: I have more Rambo and Escape Plan stuff coming, and most likely some more TLB content, too.)

Masterlist

(I'm also going to tag @yuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh in this, because they expressed interest in Expendables stuff earlier😊💛)

The cold water is pleasant on my heated skin as I cup my hands under the steady stream flowing from the tap, splashing it into my face when a suitable pool has formed in the space. A gasp escapes me from the stark contrast in temperatures, using my fingers to rub slightly at my skin, trying to work out the headache that has set in, only to hiss when I accidentally press into one of the new scars on the side of my face. Pulling back, I repeat my action, doing my best to distract myself from the plaguing thoughts in my head, still disgusted at myself for having them.

But even now, as I massage the contours of my face, I can't get the images of my boss out of my head. Not the sight of him taking out a ring of attackers using his revolver and sharpshooting skills, not the way his exposed arm muscles flexed with each movement, not the determined look on his rugged face and certainly not the fierce eye contact he made with me when he turned around again. At the mere memory of this, a flush of heat goes through me, eyes squeezing shut to force myself to blank them out, not quite realising that his stare is branded into my subconscious. Biting my lip, I shake my head, forcing down the picture of his muscular body and large hands on my body as he dragged me from the collapsing building, not five hours ago.

Growling, I reach over and grab hold of the beer bottle nearby, glancing at my haggard features in the mirror before taking a deep drink, wincing at the stale flavour, having had the drink for far too long. I can see the tension in my body, each muscle tight and uncomfortable, my posture ramrod straight and clearly wrong, my eyes clouded with exhaustion and what I can only assume is loneliness. 

As soon as I'd gotten in from the last job, I'd headed straight into the bathroom, grabbing a beer from the fridge as I went, needing to clear my head. Nothing I did could help, my head always circling back to that one person. Frustrated, I slam the bottle on the counter top, wincing when it shatters from the force, a particularly sharp shard slicing into my palm.

Damn him. Damn Barney Ross for getting into my head.

I clean up my hand, just bandaging it up when my phone buzzes, the screen lighting up. Frowning, I look over at it, confused. Nobody calls me. Nobody, except my boss.

Picking up the phone, I groan to myself as I realise it is, in fact, Barney. For a second, I debate letting it go to voicemail, before I finally give in, accepting the call and placing the phone to my ear.

"Sir?" I greet him politely, wondering what he needs.

"How many times have I told you not to call me "sir"?" Barney's gravelly voice sounds through the phone, a low chuckle evident in his tone. I have to ignore the effect his voice has on me, the sound giving me butterflies in my stomach.

"Sorry, sir- ah, shit." I sigh at my own habit, "You alright?"

"Yeah, guess so. Just lonely. Figured you might be, too." He admits, tone going soft as he speaks.

"Bold of you to assume that." I tease, but continue, "Though you are, as always, right."

"Should tell Christmas that, might listen to you." The veteran laughs again, the joke drawing a similar reaction from me.

"We all know he listens to no one but himself." I quip back, still waiting for him to tell me why exactly he called.

"True, true." Barney's grin is almost audible, my mind instantly bringing up an image of that particular expression into my head, much to my chagrin, "You got any plans for tonight?"

Surprised, I take a second to reply, unsure of where this is going.

"No, it's too late. Ain't really got many friends outside work, anyway." I inform him, going out of the bathroom and into the lounge.

"Fancy coming over? I've got a couple of beers that need drinking, and the hangar is pretty lonely this time of night." 

His offer stumps me for a moment, though I am quick to recover, my mouth working before my mind can catch up.

"Yeah sure. I'll be over in twenty." 

"Great. See you then." He hangs up, leaving me wondering why the hell I accepted that, knowing how much I spend too much time thinking about him (in totally inappropriate ways considering he's my boss) anyway.

Annoyed at myself, I steel myself before going and grabbing a coat, pulling on that and my boots as I leave the flat, taking my motorcycle keys with me. I lock my door behind me, leaving the apartment block quickly, glad to have the fresh air on my face as I make my way over to my motorbike. Looking on it fondly, I climb on and kick out the stand, easily getting it revved up, the vibrating engine beneath me a pleasant feeling. 

Thankfully, the roads are mostly clear this time of night, cutting the twenty minute drive short by five minutes as I go at speed through the nearly deserted outer city. The hangar is usually a pain in the ass to get to, the traffic in the roads leading up to it almost always horrific, so I am only too happy to be able to go much faster now that there's not many other drivers around. With the wind rushing around me, I find that my head clears a little, my attention on navigating the roads rather than the thoughts of my boss doing things to me I'm sure he'd find grotesque in nature. 

I arrive quickly, pulling into the hangar slowly, knowing Barney is most likely in the plane, as he usually is. Stopping the bike, I put it in park before climbing off, hanging my helmet on the handlebars as I do so, taking the keys with me as I walk over to the old plane. Nearing the aircraft, I frown a little at the sight of the new bullet holes riddling the side of it, unaware that we'd taken so much damage earlier in the day. Sighing, I go inside, ducking in through the small door, only now hearing the music playing from the stereo in the cockpit.

"It's gonna need a new lick of paint." I call out to Barney, who I can see sat in his seat, the muscular man turning to look at me as he hears me.

"It's been a long time coming, so I'm not complaining." He replies, grinning at me as I walk into the cockpit, dropping into Christmas' usual seat, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach from his stare on me again. As I enter, he rakes his eyes over my body, subtly taking my every curve in from where he is.

"Fair enough." I shrug, leaning back slightly, having missed his look, "Got a beer?"

"Yeah, here." Barney hands me a bottle, opening it for me as he does so.

"Cheers." I thank him, taking a deep drink from it as he chuckles lowly, voice sending a bolt of heat through me.

"You're starting to sound like Lee." He remarks, sipping his own bottle with a smirk.

"Should I take that as a compliment? Or an insult?" 

"Up to you." He looks over at me.

"Eh, I'll take compliment. You two get along like an old married couple, after all. Must mean something if you're comparing me to him." I decide, teasing him.

Barney laughs at my comment, lifting his bottle.

"I can agree with that." He hums, staring out of the front window.

For a couple of moments, we sit in companionable silence, drinking our beers, Barney eventually lighting a cigar. Taking a deep inhale, he offers it to me, which I decline, choosing to finish my drink instead.

"What do you usually do after a job?" Barney suddenly asks, glancing back at me.

Surprised, I think over the question for a second.

"Nothing, really. I get myself cleaned up, have a drink, then get some sleep. I don't do much else with my life." I tell him, knowing how pathetic I sound.

"What, you haven't got anyone you can hang out with?" He questions, seemingly confused.

"No. As I said before, I don't really have any friends outside work."

"Really? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

I shake my head, grimacing at the turn in conversation, just missing the slight darkening in his eyes as he looks me over once more.

"Huh. That surprises me." 

Lifting an eyebrow, I look across at him.

"Why?"

He shrugs, making eye contact with me.

"Well, you seem like the person who wouldn't struggle to make friends. You're kind, funny, pretty. You know how to behave in the right situations, you're a good friend to have." He clarifies, seemingly unaware of the impact his words have on me, my heart throbbing as I listen to him, longing building up in me again.

"You think so?" I ask, not quite believing him.

"Yeah, I do." He frowns, looking over at me, "Why, don't you?"

I don't reply, knowing my answer well. He doesn't push it, observing me carefully, his gaze making me blush furiously.

"What'd you do to your hand?" The veteran suddenly asks, gesturing to my bandaged appendage.

"Hm? Oh, I just cut it on some glass back home." I inform him, flexing my hand a little, only to wince at the sharp spike of pain. 

Wordlessly, Barney reaches across and takes my hand in his, his touch setting off sparks through me despite the gentle nature of it. Pulling my arm closer to him, he runs his fingers lightly over my skin, the rough calluses rubbing over the palm of my hand, each stroke making it harder for me to fight off the rising need within me. Being this close to him, able to smell him in nearly every surface around me, feeling his hand on mine has sparked the feelings I've been suppressing as long as I've worked with him. 

Awkwardly, I pull away, swallowing tightly, trying to suppress the urges I'm suddenly feeling, needing to get myself together again. He doesn't stop me, his dark eyes regarding me quietly, observant as always as he seemingly considers something, his gaze sliding over me once more. After a moment, he puts out his cigar, leaning back in his seat.

"Mind doing me a favour?" The muscular man cocks his head at me, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"Er, sure? What do you need?" I agree hesitantly, knowing that expression means only one thing: he's got something up his sleeve.

"Check that control panel up there, would you? It's been giving me trouble for weeks." Barney's eyes are glittering now in the dim light, clearly up to something.

"What, now?" I frown, confused by the instruction.

"If you wouldn't mind." 

Lifting an eyebrow, I place my beer down and get to my feet, awkwardly reaching up to check the panel, which just so happens to be right above his head. I try to keep my body from leaning across him too much, but this is made difficult when I realise that the particular problem lies in the switches even further over. As I go to flick them, a pair of hands takes hold of my waist, suddenly yanking me down towards the chair.

Yelping in surprise, I feel my eyes widen as Barney pulls me down onto his lap, hands tight on my hips, pressing my back flush against his chest. His nose instantly finds my neck, the older man nudging at my skin until I tilt my head to give him access, goosebumps spreading across my skin as I try to process what the hell is happening, my brain short-circuiting with every one of his breaths. They fan out over the sensitive area, my own hitching in my throat as his scruff scratches over my skin, his lips not quite touching me yet, though I can feel their every movement. 

I try to get back up, unwillingly, only for him to loop one of his arms around my front and slip his hand under my shirt, flattening his palm on my stomach to hold me against him.

"I'm not blind, you know, (Y/n). I've seen the way you look at me, the way you behave differently when you're with me. You're not as subtle as you hope." Barney practically purrs into my skin, his smirk obvious against my neck, sending shivers down my spine as I try not to groan.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about, sir." I manage out, not quite catching the sound of anticipation that escapes me when he suddenly presses his lips against my ear, whispering into it.

"Really? I think you know very well what I'm talking about." He grins to himself, the hand on my stomach running down to ghost over the waistband of my jeans, my body tensing in his grip, "Want me to demonstrate for you?

[mego42]

Hi, since you seem more positive/excited about the triangle possibility than a fair amount of people, can you talk more about why? I fall into "the not thrilled about the possibility, but have a little hope it could result in some good moments" group and would love some more reasons to not dread it. Thanks! And love your writing and love reading your tags :)

hey anon!! i am v sorry you are not thrilled and am always happy to shriek nonsense about why i’m excited (though idk how much it will help bc the tl;dr is more or less i’m hype for a triangle bc i am an incredibly messy bench who lives for drama and if you are not a similarly messy bench, ymmv)

don’t get me wrong, i super understand the trepidation, pop culture is LITTERED with absolute shite examples of love triangles but here is an incomplete list of reasons i personally think beth and rio are the perfect kind of disaster to set up a spectacular love triangle:

the existence of a triangle implies there are FEELINGS at the various points

the use of the descriptor "romantic" applied to said triangle implies ROMANTIC feelings

i am a simple woman and my pulse has already picked up

one of my absolute most favorite things about the toxic stew that is beth and rio is how completely balls to the wall obsessed they are with having and holding each other’s attention and focus

like straight up possessive nightmare people

now imagine wedging an actual rival for one or the other’s attention between the two of them

(something we have not reeeeeally seen before, 206 withstanding and i’ll come back to that, bc lbr beth doesn’t give a fck about dean and rio’s known that for sure ever since he walked LITERALLY RIGHT PAST THE GUY to rail his wife in a public bathroom at her invitation)

(the 204 proximity point has nothing to do with this list it’s just a source of endless delight and that was enough for me to justify adding it)

where was i

mmmmm feelings, possessive nightmares, OH RIGHT

they are also nightmares in the sense that it appears to be physically impossible for them to use their words with each other unless it’s like, ripped out of them which means they’re sitting on ALL THE BAGGAGE between them and it’s just stewing and boiling and

wait, let me back up

look, i want brio sex as bad as the next person

but even more than brio sex? i want them to fight

i mean like, Fight fight

i want the kind of knockdown drag-out brawl that brings Stuff to the surface and leaves them with a bunch of nasty, ragged, pieces dragged out into the light bc lbr they’ve both done some incredibly awful things to each other

(kind of like what 213 was looking like before it all went to shit tbh)

(i’m just saying, beth saying you put it all on me with that kind of jagged, disbelieving betrayal behind it? my catnip)

(it’s up there with rio at the picnic table in 306 telling her that ship sailed when she put three slugs in him)

i live for them being raw and honest and emotional okay

IF ONLY THEY COULD BOTH DO IT AT THE SAME TIME

bc here’s the thing, for the magnitude of horrifying shit between the two of them? i (personally) think that they like it because they are so! twisted! when it comes to each other and i love that for me, specifically

like no seriously a huge part of what i love about the ship is that whole i see your monster and it looks like mine thing they’ve got going on when they let themselves and i am full on foaming at the mouth feral at the thought of them leaning into that

i’m sorry i’ve lost the thread again

wait no that was the thread

okay so basically they’re both ticking time bombs of smothered angst and rage who are absolutely incapable of being normal about each other but are also keeping all of that locked tf down and the only time we ever really see it come out is when one o them is too emotionally overwhelmed to keep their iron grip

you know what brings emotions to the surface?

TRIANGLES!!!!!!!!!!!!

CAN YOU IMAGINE THE SEETHING MESS OF EMOTION THAT HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BRING TO THE SURFACE??????

AND HOW UTTERLY UNEQUIPPED EITHER ONE OF THEM WOULD BE TO DEAL WITH ANY OF IT????????

AND HOW SIDEWAYS IT COULD EXPLODE???????????

like don’t get me wrong there is absolutely no way it’s gonna be pretty but i didn’t get on this busted ass carnival ride expecting nice things, i am in this to feEl stuFf and nothing makes me feel stuff more than seeing the two of them feel stuff and this is  perfect set up for that

you know how they say the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference?

you know what’s not indifference? big messy emotions

but okay okay okay i am icarus and the sun looms large, lets say they don’t fight, that doesn’t mean they’re not gonna feEl stuFf on their own

do you remember beth’s face in the van when rio hugged dylan??? do you?????

and what did she do after that? went out and robbed him blind and held his shit hostage until he caved in what is one of my top 10 of all of their scenes

and god, idk if we’ve really seen rio really get jealous of attention lavished on beth yet but when i think about it i want it so bad my teeth hurt

and i know i’m not alone here bc i have i think 3 jealous!rio prompts in my inbox rn

(i’m not saying i’m working on it but i’m also not not saying it)

god i just

can you imagine how much fun it could be to watch rio seethe over having to watch someone else be into beth

WHAT WOULD HE DO?????????

ESP IF HE COULDNT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT DIRECTLY BC ITS SOMEONE HE CAN’T INTERFERE WITH

oh christ and if beth responded to it??????????

oh gOD thE mESS

idk even if it doesn’t lead to a confrontation (but i feel like??? it would have to????) just the idea of the kinds of feelings they’d have to grapple with and confront within themselves is D E L I C I O U S

also, to jump back to an earlier point: brio sex

i know some people are feeling like the sexy chemistry between beth and rio is lacking this season

you know what’s great for chemistry? fuel

you know what provides great fuel? messy emotional situations that tug at intimate connections and make people feel out of control

you know what’s a messy emotional situation that tugs at intimate connections and make people feel out of control? 

you probably guessed it

A TRIANGLE

(and we know that neither of them does well with feeling out of control period at all even without the intimate emotional stuff mixed in so like oh boy)

listen i am just saying given where they’re currently at with each other i cannot think of any situation more ripe for an explosive hook up than one or both of them feeling driven to reassert their claim/mark on the other 

would it be nice? no, probably not

would i care? not even a little bit

(don’t you judge like any of y’all are any better than me)

look. to quote marie kondo horrifically out of context: i love mess and the mess potential in a romantic love triangle with beth and rio as two of the three points is stratospherically high.

[dissonantdreamer]

Okay. Okay. This is gonna be long, rambling and a reeeeach of meta as I am wont to do. So most of the analysis and theory will be under the cut. Anyway, I was going through trailers for a reference for something entirely unrelated to this post and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone talk about this cinematic trailer, with out it being thought of as the bonfire Dina mentions in the record store. 

But what if, what if... it was actually not the bonfire scene Ellie is thinking of mid fight? Rather a completely different moment entirely: A moment they shared on the way to Seattle.

So there was always something that poked at the back of my head whenever I watch this trailer with the idea that it was a bonfire. I had several questions. Who taught the guy who made the bonfire how to make bonfires? It’s so tiny. Where are all the other people at this bonfire? It’d be more romantic to see people milling around behind them in the first shot of Ellie playing guitar only to have the world fade down to the two of them.

The outfits made sense in the context that the bonfire happened in late fall/winter, if it was their winter outfits they are in cold climate. Why then, was Ellie’s hair styled like her Seattle model in her winter outfit? 

(Ignoring ND just using that model because they use that model in a bunch of trailers)

There is one option we haven’t considered.

Our only source of light isn’t a bonfire, it’s a campfire.

This trailer has no in-game context but there are little clues everywhere. They are wearing the clothes they wore during patrol, obviously because it’s winter still, their warm outfits would have to be worn for a little while before reaching Seattle. Winter is not over and the areas they travel to are known for hard winter weather.  Ellie clearly has cut her hair, it’s not the right length for Jackson. So this must be somewhere between when they left and before they made it into Seattle.

We can’t see too far past them, but if you play the trailer and watch beyond the characters there are some flashes of firelight revealing a forest. Which, if it’s an illegal bonfire, does makes sense. The kids of Jackson wanting to drink without supervision might risk going outside the walls of Jackson. Dina implies it’s a regular occurrence when she talks about sneaking out to go sledding. However, it’s clearly just them and you can see snow falling so we’re still in a cold area.

At first I thought it was ash, but after the fighting cut scene snow is visibly falling just beyond the end of the light. The light source from the bottom corner, as someone who has been next to a bonfire or two, you get far more light and the flames would be much higher and brighter at that proximity. The first second we can see flames low to the ground. Which makes me believe this is a much more personal fire. The lighting fits more for an intimate campfire than it does for a bonfire (even if they are sitting farther back from it. Ellie’s journal has a few insights that lead me towards something she done around the time they found Tommy’s trail.

We’re seeing an Ellie who hasn’t been pushed to her brink yet, she’s hurting, yes.  At this point she is still the sweet kid we remember and she wants to do something nice for her girlfriend.

But what about the guitar, you ask? Why does she have it if it’s not the one Joel gave her? It kinda looks similar to the one Joel gave her. Lighting is too warm to tell if its a sunburst on the body of the guitar or if the body is catching firelight. I couldn’t get a good shot but there is a moment in the trailer her hand drops enough to tell for certain their is no moth inlay. My guess it’s a game asset similar to the one in the original trailer. If Ellie found a guitar in Seattle and took time out of her busy revenge schedule to woo her girl, you bet your ass she’s going to show Dina she loves her whenever she can.

People have pointed out Dina’s tears when this shot pans over to her. The perfect image of someone in love with her best friend unable to tell her because they are at a bonfire and certainly Jesse and Cat would not be okay if she jumped Ellie right now.  I’ve seen zero people point out, that Ellie. Ellie is fucking crying too:

She’s got tears in her eyes, the moment seems far more intense and intimate than two people with unspoken crushes.  If it’s her and Dina on the road looking after each other, fighting for each other, of course they would cry when they realized just how much they love and care for one another.

Naughty Dog uses color brilliantly and subtly as an extra layer to their storytelling. Playing the game we know Dina is portrayed through warmer colors, her clothing, her demeanor. Hell, the farm and dance scenes are the warmest in the game. Ellie on the other hand is portrayed through cooler colors, that grow colder as the game and her addiction to revenge progresses. (Though they warm up considerably when she is on the farm with Dina.)

This leads me to believe in this moment:

Ellie isn’t thinking of the bonfire. We haven’t seen that moment.  She’s thinking of the first time she really knew she loved Dina. Traveling the road with this spirited, fierce, girl who has followed her into unknown danger, supported her on her darker days, and fought beside her. All without question. She thinks of Dina, finds solace and strength in quietly shared moments with this warm, open, strong, badass that loves her and has her back. Her guilt makes her believe she is hard to love. Dina believes loving her is anything but. Knowing that she presses forward.

Now the rest of this trailer could be before reaching Nora because this looks similar to the area before her fight with the Seraphite brute in MERCI and these are her Seattle Day two clothes.

Ellie doesn’t believe in luck. She doesn’t believe everything happens for a reason. True faith is a concept foreign to her, she goes back and forth with it. Before her reckoning of self in the hospital and the aquarium. There is one thing Ellie believes, Dina. Believes Dina when she insists in her little ways that Ellie deserves love.

Joel told her, “No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.”:

and she fucking did.

In conclusion:

TL:DR

Throwing the idea out into the world that ND misdirects the audience all the time and this trailer looks like a moment that happened on the road between Jackson and Seattle. And there is a whole bonfire scene we didn’t even get to see a glimpse of.

Thank you for coming to my T(lou2)EDTalk

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons 4: Varus

Unlike the other Champions I’ve covered, Varus’s history is surprisingly straightforward. He was released all the way back in 2012 and, as far as I can recall, was the first Champion to ever receive any sort of major promotional material in the form of a short comic. He’s very straight-forward in both concept and design: a man willing to sell his soul, his very humanity, for revenge on the people who took everything from him. Given that this was before Kalista was added to the game, Varus had little choice but take matters into his own hands by bargaining with a vaguely-defined Eldritch being who would give him the power he needed in exchanged for taking over his body.

Original lore here

Varus’s lore is a very traditional revenge story, albeit with a slightly interesting twist in that he is the maker of his own tragedy. Varus opted to place his duty over the well-being of family and, in the process, was unable to even TRY to protect them while his village was being reduced to burning rubble. Out of grief and rage Varus turned to bargaining with the very entity he fought so hard to keep confined now that he no longer has anything to lose.

I and many others liked Varus’s story, and to be honest, Riot could have honestly just kept him more-or-less the same when they updated him post-retcon. Just remove the mention of the League and maybe better-define what the black flames were, and you’d be good. In fact, Riot technically did the former, as his second lore is basically identical save for removing any mention of the League of Legends.

Now, it’s at this point that things start to get a little more complicated. Now, if you want a more comprehensive breakdown of the Darkin and their history, I advise you go check out the part centered around Aatrox and his long and convoluted history, but tldr: the Darkin were a race of beings of whom only five remained, and it was later confirmed with Rhaast that they’re specifically a race of living weapons with the ability to possess whoever wields them. Now, while Varus was specifically possessed by an ominous black flame called Pallas, many drew parallels between him and the other Darkin characters, especially since Varus’s also seemed to be alive.

Given that the flames were never really elaborated on or given a proper origin story, Riot decided that it would probably be best to just go ahead and retcon Varus into being a Darkin as well, and nobody had any real qualms with this. It was a common fan theory for years, so why not? Just change the story a bit so that the flames were actually just a Darkin bow all along and boom, you’ve pretty-much done all you needed to properly fit Varus into the new post-reboot Runeterra.

Well, apparently Riot did not feel this way, as it was with Varus’s 2017 retcon that they decided to finally give fans a proper origin story for who and what the Darkin were. That origin story goes a little something like this.

Alright, so Varus is now an alien. They decided to make Varus himself the Darkin, rather than the man who would later claim the bow. OK, that’s fine. I mean, the whole alien thing is kinda weird and still very vaguely explained, but again, my full thoughts on the history of the Darkin as a whole can be seen in the Aatrox analysis. What I think is most important here is that Riot made an attempt, however sloppy, to explain who and what the Darkin were and finally give context to why Aatrox and Rhaast are such big threats to the world.

Now, it’s the next change that got a lot of controversy around it. Rather than just change the name of the Ionian guard who let Varus possess him, the guy who lost his family to the Noxian invasion, Riot decided to replace him with a pair of entirely new characters: Valmar and Kai, a duo of gay Ionian hunters.

Now, I’m just gonna get this out of the way: I’ve got no real qualms about gay relationships in media. Hell, we have a few LGBT Champions in the game already, and even some in the broader expanse of the world. My main gripe comes from the introduction of Valmar and Kai themselves, and how they’re just sort of these… Nothing characters. I mean, in the first lore, we knew who Varus was. We may not have known him well, but we could at least get a general sense of his character: he was proud of his skill, committed to the duty given to him even at the risk of his family, but ultimately succumbed to grief and rage when his decision caused him to lose everything he held dear. Varus was a good man warped by the loss of his home and loved ones, and that made him a fairly compelling character.

Valmar and Kai are… Two gay hunters. That’s it. That’s literally all we know about them from the bio alone. I mean, yes, Riot released a comic to further expand on these characters, but if your answer to the questions raised in your story are “go and read this extra supplementary material for context,” that’s… A problem.

On the topic of supplementary material, Riot also released a music video about Varus. It’s… OK. I personally don’t care much for the song but the visuals alone are really well-done. It’s supposed to detail the conflict between Valmar, Kai and Varus, but most of the context behind it is explained in the comic and short story.

Honestly, Varus’s retcon is kind of baffling. I mean, he didn’t receive a visual rework, his kit remained pretty-much the same as it’s always been, and he doesn’t even have any new voice lines in-game to indicate that he’s three different guys all stuck in one body. In fact, people who play him in-game without reading the lore probably wouldn’t ever be able to guess as much. Riot went to so much effort promoting Varus’s lore update with a music video, a new bio, a new color story, and a three-part comic, but they really haven’t changed anything about him in the game itself. They put more effort into him than they do for most ACTUAL Champion VGU’s. So… Why?

Admittedly, this is where I’m going to delve a bit into conspiracy theory territory, but I genuinely believe this is a case of Riot trying to push League’s first openly queer relationship. Seriously, Valmar and Kai are the first time a character in League has been confirmed gay IN THE LORE ITSELF and not just through a random tweet. Now, the word “pandering” gets thrown around a lot these days, and I don’t really like to use it, but it really does feel like Valmar and Kai were added JUST to have a confirmed gay couple in the lore.

The fact that they’re not even acknowledged IN THE GAME ITSELF really makes the whole thing feel like an attempt to just appeal to the LGBT crowd, though I’ve seen plenty of people in that community react… Less than positively to the portrayal. I mean, two gay guys are literally trying to hold back a corruptive, even influence with the power of love. I don’t wanna delve too much into the political side of things here, but that’s honestly about as cliché and stereotypical as you can get. Fans in general were extremely displeased that the man they knew as Varus, this genuinely tragic figure from the original lore, was replaced by two guys who’s only defining character trait is how much they apparently love each other.

Apparently, these complaints came through loud and clear, as Riot would update Varus one final time after deciding to retcon the whole alien plotline. So, let’s have a look at how his current, canon bio handles him.

Alright, well… Riot heard the complaints, but whether or not they fixed him is another matter. It seems like they tried to give Varus back his original origin story, basically making the archer we new from his first bio Shuriman. The problem is that there’s significantly less context for him now; we don’t know anything about his family, we don’t know why the temple he’s guarding is so important, and the story never even explicitly states that his family died!

I guess it’s implied because the Ascended acknowledged his “sacrifice,” though him being rewarded by becoming a demigod doesn’t quite have the same impact as exchanging his life and soul for a shot at revenge. On top of that, Varus seems pretty quick to give up on the whole “sacred duty” thing, despite the story claiming that being the thing he “he held above all else.” It all feels like a botched effort to mix his original bio with the new Ascended lore that Riot tied in with the Darkin.

Then, of course, there’s Valmar and Kai, who are… Still just gay hunters. They haven’t been expanded on at all. They helped drive the Noxians off from their home, Kai was apparently wounded, and Valmar decides that dipping his lover in an ominous pool of evil to save his life is a bad idea. Seriously, the bio states that they “inadvertently” freed Varus, but there was nothing accidental about it! There was no bargain, they weren’t tricked, it was literally just one guy making a stupid decision that got him fused with his lover and an ancient evil being.

Also, can we address the fact that Varus still wants to avenge the destruction of his race? Who does he want to avenge? The other Ascended? The Ascended who literally warred with each other for centuries? The same Ascended that HE FOUGHT AGAINST during the civil war for control of Shurima? Did Riot just… Forget that he’s not an alien anymore in that brief paragraph? They stated earlier that he was a cruel, merciless killer who just went to slaughter whoever he was told to slaughter, so for some reason I don’t feel like he’d care all that much about his “race” being felled. Oh, and there’s also still the unnamed warrior queen, who I THINK is meant to be a precious Aspect of the Sun? It’s never really stated in the bio itself.

Alright, enough ranting. Varus’s current lore suffers from one major fault: it is trying way too hard to tell several stories all at once. It tells the story of Varus as a human, Varus as an Ascended, Varus as a Darkin, the “story” of Valmar and Kai, and how they got fused with Varus. The writers tried way too hard to cram everything into a single bio and, as a result, nothing is elaborated on. Nothing is really explained, we don’t get to know the characters who are involved in the gestalt entities now known as Varus, and reason for his current existence AS a gestalt entity are just kinda silly, if we’re being honest.

So, how can we fix this? I admit: this was a tough one. There were a lot of different directions I could go when rewriting Varus’s lore, but I decided to take the Kayn approach, where the human host in the focus of the bio. Originally, I did have a whole bio written out for Varus and how he became an Ascendant, but I ultimately realized that I was going to run into the same issue Riot did: trying to cram way too much into a single character overview. So, instead, I chose to focus in more on the story of Valmar and Kai, and how the Darkin Bow was freed after ages of confinement. Without any further ado, please enjoy.

For years, the Darkin Bow has remained confined within the Ionian city of Pallas. The bow’s true nature has long been lost to time, though legends say it holds the spirit of an ancient god from a vast desert land. Others claim that the bow itself is something much older and viler than history itself dares to remember. Whatever the truth may be, the people have Pallas have guarded the bow for generations, choosing only their most skilled warriors from the task. Among them, none seemed better-suited for the task than Kai and Valmar.

Kai and Valmar were inseparable since they were children. Kai, a prodigy marksman, was known for his sense of humor and fierce resolve. Though infamous for his pranks, Kai would never hesitate to step in and defend someone in need, no matter how poorly the odds stood in his favor. By contrast, Valmar had trained in the ways of swordsmanship since he was old enough to grip a blade. Diligent and studious, Valmar was what many considered a model samurai in the making, yet he was also unendingly curious about the world and the many wonders it held.

At a glance, Kai and Valmar seemed near-total opposites, yet the two formed an unbreakable bond from the day they met. Kai would often accompany Valmar to explore the surrounding wilderness, only for Valmar to shelter Kai whenever one of his pranks went awry. As each boy matured, mastering the bow and blade respectively, their bond became something deeper than simple friendship. Valmar was a part of Kai, and Kai a part of Valmar. Neither was complete without the other, and so it came as little surprise that when Valmar was chosen to guard the Temple of the Bow, Kai soon followed.

Together, Valmar and Kai drove off many would-be thieves seeking to claim the cursed weapon’s power as their own. The two fought as one, each arrow from Kai’s bow in perfect sync with every swing of Valmar’s blade. Eventually, they came to be known as the Locust and Mantis, for the whirring of Kai’s arrows and the elegance of Valmar’s blade. It was believed that none could stand up to their combined might… Until the Noxians came.

From their post at the temple, Valmar and Kai watched in horror as the invaders stormed their home, setting fires and killing anyone who dared to stand in their way. For the first time, two warriors found themselves at odds; Kai wished to help defend the people of Pallas, but Valmar insisted on protecting the temple. In the end, neither had much choice in the matter, for the Noxians soon had them cornered on the temple steps.

Valmar and Kai fought for hours, their combined might slowly waning against the invaders’ onslaught. Kai’s strength was the first to give out, yet before death could reach him, Valmar stepped in the way to shield his partner from the blow of a Noxian axe. Kai watched in horror as Valmar fell to the ground, lifeless. Enraged, Kai fired all the arrows he had left before taking up Valmar’s sword, slaying the Noxian forces assaulting the temple. Even still, he knew it would not be long before more came, seeking to claim the forbidden bow.

In that moment, Kai heard a voice calling to him from within the temple. It promised him vengeance and the strength to fight back. Driven by rage and grief, the wounded archer let the voice guide him inside, just as more Noxian invaders began their ascent up the temple’s stairs. It was there, in the darkness, that Kai at last set eyes upon the cursed weapon he and Valmar spent years protecting: a bow thrumming with unearthly power. Kai hesitated for only a moment before grasping the bow, letting its power wash over him.

Kai’s mind was filled with images and thoughts not his own: a vast desert empire, a man made a god, betrayal, war, and finally, imprisonment. These were the memories of Varus, an Ascended being who devoted his life to serving Shurima, only to be abandoned in his time of need. His bitterness and hatred had summoned the Darkin Bow, granting Varus the opportunity to seek revenge on those who had wronged him. In the end, Varus was sealed within the bow, becoming one with it… And now, he would become one with Kai as well.

As Varus’s memories filled Kai’s mind, the Darkin’s power corrupted his body. Varus prepared to usurp Kai’s form entirely, but to his surprise, the Ionian’s drive for vengeance matched his own. Kai was prepared to give anything to avenge Valmar, his fallen half, yet he would do so with his own hands rather than entrust the task to a fallen god.

Even as their minds fought, the archers’ new, fused body moved on pure instinct. One by one, the Noxian forces in Pallas were felled by crimson arrows born of pure malice. Seeing the corpses of his kinsmen and the ruins of his home only fueled Kai’s rage, which in-turn empowered the Darkin in his grasp. Finally, the two archers came to an agreement as the Noxians fled: Varus would lend Kai his strength, in exchange for the Ionian’s body once Kai’s vengeance was complete.

Now on borrowed time, Kai has but one objective: to find and kill everyone he holds responsible for the destruction of his home and the death of his partner. To Varus, however, the destruction of Noxus is but the first step toward a much larger goal: revenge against the gods who betrayed him, and the world that sealed him away…

So, that’s my take on Varus’s lore. Now, the first thing you’ll probably notice is that I only have one of the lovers being possessed. Frankly, I felt that this was probably the best direction to go with; Riot still hasn’t updated Varus in any meaningful way to include Valmar and Kai in any of his voice lines, and something tells me that, being owned by a certain Chinese company, they probably never will. Given the circumstances, I figured it was probably best to give him a backstory more befitting of his in-game voice lines, which still portray Varus as a man on borrowed time who’s giving what little he has left in pursuit of vengeance.

Even so, I decided to try my hand at fleshing out Valmar and Kai. The first thing I did was change them from random hunters to trained soldiers tasked with guarding the temple. This not only harkens back to Varus’s original lore, but it also gives them more of a reason to stand their ground against the Noxian invaders. I also wanted to flesh out their personalities a little more, because I’ll be completely honest: I legitimately couldn’t remember which one was which even after skimming back through the comic. I forgot that Kai was the one who was injured in the original story, not Valmar, but quite frankly it matters so little given how poorly their characters are fleshed out.

Now, as for Varus himself… Well, like I said: I did have a whole bio written out for him that ties into the new Darkin lore I introduced in my Aatrox analysis, but I decided to focus the story more on Valmar and Kai and only have that backstory briefly alluded to. A tad disappointing, I know, but hey, it’s still more than what we learned about Rhaast from Kayn’s bio.

So, that was Varus, the Arrow of Retribution, otherwise known as Riot’s botched attempt at LGBT representation. He’s a far cry from what he started out as, and yet, hilariously, he’s really not on account of them still not updating anything about him in-game. In that respect, the Varus you play as in League isn’t really even the same character(s) presented in the lore. While I still firmly believe that his backstory never needed to be changed so drastically in the first place, I least wanted to present the potential that this direction held, and how badly the opportunity was squandered.

Oh well. At least the music video still looks nice.

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 17: 3x07 Day of the Dove

I am incredibly discombobulated today—usual weekend nocturnal shenanigans I guess! Anyway it’s somehow midnight. Gonna try to write up these note on the Classic episode The Day of the Dove in as efficient a manner as possible.

Hmm, a planet with wavy pink Fraggle plants. I like it already.

But where is Spock? Very suspicious.

I really appreciate Kirk giving a little speech to set up the overall question/issue for us. (I know he does this all the time with the Captain’s logs but this is out loud and so… more obviously expository.)

Oh no, it’s our old friends…the Klingons.

I will admit that this ONE TIME, the Klingon is being reasonable. Like, it is reasonable to think that Kirk and the Enterprise attacked his ship, given that his hip WAS attacked, and who else would it be?

Three years of peace between the Klingons and the Federation? That is inclusive of the show so all this tension must technically be “peace” and also implies there was something more like a direct war going on, like, right before Kirk got the captaincy.

Zoolander voice: What is this, a colony of the INVISIBLE?

“We have no devil. But we understand the habits of yours.”

No takers? No takers on the torture? No volunteers to be mercilessly tortured by the Klingons?

Star Trek Beyond could have had Kirk and Chekov bond over being brothers! I mean, to other people.

They’ll kill 100 hostages at the first sign of treachery. He does know there are only 400-some people on the ship right? Maybe you should pace yourself, Kang.

Kirk’s so badass he needs MULTIPLE guns trained on him just to use the phone.

Oh-ho secret message to Spock. Which version of the iPhone will be capable of doing THAT?

The Klingons are “suspended in transit” is an awfully nice way of saying they’re just dematerialized atoms in space. Philosophy major and/or Bones nightmare fuel.

How did Kang not see this coming, by the way? Like, he just says “I’m taking your ship now, me and my 6 men versus your 400-some men, and I’ll do this by simply declaring it to be so. Now let’s beam up to your ship, where I’ll be greatly outnumbered, and there are armed security guards all around me.” Guess he’s been reading The Secret!

WIFE AND SCIENCE OFFICER

Aka the most important part of this whole episode.

Kirk’s face is very ?????? You can have both????

It’s legitimately not even important for her to be the science officer tbqh. Like that is so gratuitous. That’s just in there to drive me insane.

"We're prisoners, somehow, after I demanded to come on the ship, assuming they'd just give it to me without any kind of fight. How DID this happen?”

Federation death camps lol—someone’s been watching Fox News.

I do kind of wonder… is this an actual rumor that goes around the Klingon homeworld or is it something that the alien entity put in her head specifically to make her angrier right now? I mean it really could be either.

I also appreciate this episode for being pretty much the only one to actually attempt to give the Klingons a reason for being as they are. The Romulans… maybe aren’t well-described, but they do have a sort of regalness to them, appropriate for being related to Vulcans, and you can kind of imagine that they are the way they are because they’re Vulcans without the intense self-control. Plus they’re literally only in 2 TOS eps and in the second, the Federation are the aggressors. But the Klingons show up a half-dozen times only to be depicted each time as just like Cartoonishly Bad, aggressive, violent, and selfish for basically no reason. And I mean, some people really are!! But TOS has so much nuance in other places, that it always seemed a little disappointing to me that the Klingons are really just like ‘well we’re just bad and we hate everyone and we really like killing I guess.” At least in this ep there’s a little more added to that: that there is poverty on their world, that they feel aggrieved, that they feel unprotected, that taking and conquering is how they look after themselves…

I think that’s later in the episode though.

He’s detaining them in the LOUNGE lol. With their favorite dishes available to them to eat. Absolutely barbarous conditions.

I can’t believe Chekov is hanging in the elevator with the cool kids. Like, one of these things really isn’t like the others.

Kang is officially sure of himself for someone currently imprisoned in the lounge, that most fearsome of Federation death camps.

Hmm, could the glittery light alien have taken over??

You know what, that's a lot of tasks for Johnson to do all by himself: search the whole ship, fix the engines, and free 400 people.

Sulu would love this: everyone gets a sword!!

“Bridge. I gotta show this to Sulu immediately.”

Klingons have maintained a dueling tradition. That’s interesting. Finally some characterization going on.

Spock is really living up to his logical nature today. Everyone else has gone off the emotional deep end and he’s like “have you considered this completely rational explanation that accounts for the actual, observed facts??”

Whoops Chekov is actually an only child. Scratch that previous Beyond headcanon. (Interesting that his dead brother does really resemble Sam though—killed on a research colony??)

Love that Sulu knows that about him though.

Oh, that’s a pretty schematic picture of the Enterprise. I want that on a t-shirt.

Lol the pan out to the armory, now filled with… swords!!

Do ALL of these men have a fetish for swords? Sulu and fencing, Spock displaying swords in his quarters, and Kirk in his San Francisco apartment, and Scotty salivating over this Scottish blade.

“Klingon units.”

Finally Sulu gets his sword! It’s what he deserves.

Love that the shiny light alien also has a fetish for swords.

Oh no, it’s our old adversary, an alien life force.

What is the alien’s purpose? Um, I’m pretty sure its purpose is to start shit.

“An appropriate choice of terms, Captain.” I don’t even remember what this is referring to but I think it’s pretty clear that Spock is enjoying himself during a crisis again.

Bones, being so dramatic. Were there atrocities? He’s talking about the Klingons as if they were literally hacking off limbs—it’s a few stab wounds here and there, chill.

Oooh, time to behave like military men—strong words. (But I thought it wasn’t the military?? @ S**** P****) (This might not even be my best argument, given the context of this episode, but I’m sticking with it.)

This is like a giant game of capture the flag.

AU that’s just about the Enterprise crew playing capture the flag with the Klingons.

Sulu in the background standing guard with his sword

Damn, turning on Spock with the slurs now!!

Spock was absolutely ready to kill him. Like he would 100% have taken him out with a blow to the head. And he’d been doing such a good job of not feeling the alien’s effects so far! Admittedly, that was a strong provocation though.

Honestly, I really like this scene. It’s uncomfortable and tense and you can really see how the alien is bringing out the worst possible influences of their respective races. And I liked how Spock was definitely full on pre-Reform Vulcan for a minute there. It was a more effective portrayal of what that might have looked like than All Our Yesterdays tbqh.

A result of… stress?

Kirk got himself out of it first. He’s so strong. He knows himself so well, he cannot be outsmarted by any alien.

“We’ve been taught to think in terms other than war.”

“The alien brings out the worst of us—patriotic drumbeating…even race hatred.”

He’s so sad; he can’t imagine thinking like that about Spock :(

Sulu in a Jeffries tube! A man of many talents. It’s okay bb, take credit for turning on the lights.

The alien must have been getting bored. The Klingons must have been doing too well, and the playing field needs to be leveled for maximum shit-stirring.

“Let’s find that alien.” That’s how I ALWAYS feel.

Oh, Kang, you’re so close—“What power supports our battle but thwarts our victory.” So, so close to getting it.

ALIEN DETECTED.

Spock takes his sword, of course.

“Jim.” Obligatory Jim moments hit differently when they’re not so obligatory.

“Jim—stop hitting my protégé. And put that sword down.”

Kirk looks so sad, picking Chekov up to carry him bridal style.

Also in addition to ‘race hatred’ I think we need to add ‘rape-y tendances’ to the bad stuff that the alien is inspiring here.

“A brief surge of racial bigotry. Most distasteful.” Spock winning for understatement of the year.

They're assuming the alien is trying to test out their relative powers but I think it just wants entertainment. I mean, doesn’t it look like a naughty little thing?

Mara’s outfit is… little shorts? Interesting. Usually not my style but she makes it work.

Spock doesn’t even look at Johnson as he falls lol. Another one bites the dust.

“It exists on the hate of others.”

What does this remind me of? Oh, the Vast of Night and the whole “aliens made us do every bad thing ever” conspiracy theory. At least this one makes more sense, in part because it is not quite so overwhelmingly broad!

All hostile attitudes must be eliminated, he says, and there's Mara right behind Kirk giving him a death stare lol.

Kang is so obviously posing. Google Earth, always taking pictures.

Only a few minutes before drifting forever in space becomes inevitable? Good thing Kirk works well under pressure.

“Well… do whatever you can, Scotty. You know the drill.” Doesn’t even bother giving real directions anymore. We’ve been in this scenario before.

“So we drift in space, with only hatred and bloodshed aboard.”

And the 392 people below just get to…live in Enterprise prison, I guess.

Star date: Armageddon. So dramatic!

I’m not even making that up; that’s an actual quote. Can you imagine being an Admiral listening to this?

“Stop the war now.” An actual line, really aired on television.

Spock wants to threaten the wife lol. That's the old pre-Reform Vulcan seeping through. Surak who?

Damn, Kang is cold. “Eh, she gets the concept of being killed in battle.” They’re gonna need marriage counseling after this.

“There is another way. Mutual trust and help.” Yes that’s my hero!!

“No one can guarantee the actions of another.” Can’t remember the context of this entirely anymore, but great line.

The entity is loving this—multi-person choreographed sword fight!!

"Those who hate and fight must stop themselves. otherwise it is not stopped.” Another baller line. Spock has a lot of deep thoughts today. And so does Kirk. And Kang.

Kirk tries to reason with the alien. Nice try.

“Shoo. Shoo, alien. Off the ship, go away.”

Omg that last moment—Kang slapping Kirk’s back way too hard, Spock’s completely ridiculous wide-eyed expression when he does, like some sort of combo of amusement and confusion, and then Sulu just passing on by in the background….

Then the alien just yeets itself into space. And that’s the end!

Always feels weird when there’s no wrap up on the bridge.

Also, what are they going to do with the Klingons? They have no ship. They really did come out of this a lot worse than Kirk and co. No ship, huge casualties—and no one to blame even, but the alien.

I feel like the alien messed up a little in killing so many Klingons. Like, it could have accomplished its purpose, angering the Klingons and turning them on Kirk, by attacking the ship a little less violently—you know they’d react to 5 deaths pretty much the same as 400, and then there would be many more people to fight forever and produce that sweet sweet anger!

Maybe the alien’s powers aren’t strong enough to influence 800 people though. Also it wants equal forces and 800 people wouldn’t fit on the Enterprise, one assumes. So it still makes sense.

That was, of course, an excellent episode. 100% agree with is classic status, even though the main things I remembered going in were the wife + science officer bit, and everyone laughing at the end in a really forced, fake way, in order to make the alien go away.

I thought the Klingons were a lot better/more interesting today than usual. First, I think Kang is a better character, or a better actor maybe, than the others; he has a certain way about him that is… more watchable, more sympathetic. And he’s always saying these really dramatic things that make it seem likely he writes patriotic Klingon war poetry in his off time. Also, including his wife made them seem more… not human obviously, but normal. Not just cardboard cut-out villains. And of course the actual lightly specific motivations I earlier mentioned helped too.

Also, the plotting was very good: it built up slowly but surely over time, so at first the alien’s influence wasn’t that obvious, and then it became more so, and then it became horrifically obvious and extreme. And then you had to re-evaluate earlier moments: was that the alien changing facts in their heads, or a real part of the animosity between humans and Klingons? And it wasn’t always clear, which I appreciated. The tension when the people were at their worst wasn’t overdone, like in that moment with Scotty, Spock, and Kirk—or even in Chekov’s assault on Mara, tbh. The various strategies of the different sides were very entertaining too; there was never a dull moment, and they fit in a lot of straight-up actions and twists into 50 minutes.

The possible threat was truly terrifying, also: stuck in a space ship, forever, unable to die, feeling the worst possible emotions all the time, besieged, angered, despairing, fighting a war that can’t be won, being injured and suffering only to recover and fight again, and it never stops… A perfect nightmare mixture of insanity and violence and pain. And the alien, in encouraging hatred and anger, doesn’t discriminate between sides: they turn on each other just as much as on the Klingons, breeding paranoia and infighting. For eternity.

The episode also felt much more strongly anti-war than I remember tbh. Like it was not subtle. Kirk literally says “stop the war” in so many words. He has a part in his speech where he talks about the possibility of other aliens out there, encouraging other wars. And while I do think “maybe the aliens are making us do it” is a cop out explanation, or would be if it were real, the scenario gave the show a lot of room to say, like, pretty ballsy things: to include “patriotic drum beating” along with “race hatred” in a list of corrupting feelings they were experiencing; to show how the same instincts that lead to warring also lead to sexual assault and the aforementioned ‘race hatred;” to reveal the true horror of an endless war by making the participants unkillable and sticking them in a singular space ship in the middle of nowhere; to imply that the combatants of war gain nothing from it, but outside or third-party entities will pull strings of their own design to profit from the conflict as long as possible; even to make an impassioned plea to camera to stop the endlessness of the conflict. Like I can’t even totally unpack this but it is a lot!

Finally, it was also a great Kirk episode, which of course is my most important factor. He’s smart; he’s strong; he’s so sure of himself and his values that he cannot be manipulated to mindless hatred, he represents the values of the Federation, and the show itself; he treats even his enemies with basic respect and humanity; and ultimately, he saves the day.

Okay I was not efficient in writing this up at all! It is very late!!

[jjba-hell]

Fate and Fortune

Part 4 and we’re finally moving into canon ya’ll.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Content warning: implied unwanted sexual advances, mentioning of prosthetics and amputation (y’know Joseph), mention of substance (marijuana) usage, mild injuries, mention of grief (especially familial loss)

For the moots: @risottoneroo (ya mans is making an appearance) @rat-makes-stuff

Some context: Vera’s stand works in balance- for every good fortune she exploits or bad fortune she reverts, the bad needs to be experienced and because she manipulates it, she’s the one that needs to experience it. This forms the basis of big skills having a “cost”.

The next time Vera had climbed onto an airplane, it was unaccompanied and just a few months shy of two years from when she had first left Egypt.

Mr Joestar had never made an appearance but Avdol kept in touch over the phone almost biweekly. Everything in the world seemed to be running smoothly until Avdol’s calm demeanor seemed to waver over the phone when they spoke, so much so that she knew something big was going on.

“Vera! You’ve got a scheduled call with your benefactor in the counselor’s office after school.” One of her class mates had handed her a time and return number scribbled on a piece of paper as she strolled through the hallway.

Of course she was on time, waiting about three rings before picking up and introducing herself. The voice that returned was definitely not what she was expecting.

Vera had always imagined a weakening, wavering voice from an elder gentleman on the other end of the line when she thought of her benefactor but Mr Joestar was loud, quick- talking and despite the serious order for her to leave her classes, sounded no older than 40.

She landed in Japan a few hours shy of midnight, painfully jet-lagged and half asleep in a vain attempt to forget the time zones she was crossing. Avdol had met her just outside the luggage carousel, giving a tired smile as she approached.

“Long time no see, Avdol.”

“How was your flight?” He gave a huff of laughter, taking her suitcase and guiding her towards one of the exits.

“Oh it was lovely, I stop smoking for a month and suddenly all my hard work is undone by a woman two isles behind me.” She had always had a weakness for cherry cigarillos.

“And you caved?” He raised an eyebrow slightly at her.

“It was an 8 hour flight- I mean at least I stopped asking after she so kindly offered to ‘alleviate some stress in the bathroom’.”

Avdol cringed a breathed a heavy sigh- “I forget for all the luck of your stand you suffer twice the bad luck.”

She shrugged and then sat down on the bench with a groan. “Speaking of which...Do you-?”

The cigarette pack handed to her was enough of an answer.

“Damn Avdol- I knew your nerves were frayed but bad enough for you to pick up smoking again?”

He didn’t answer as he sat down beside her, throwing an arm over the back of the bench and joining her in the vice.

“The man that killed your parents. He came to find me.”

Vera’s stomach dropped, the blood leaving her head as the realization dawned on her. The fact that Avdol was there and seemingly unharmed...

Avdol took a heavy swallow, took another drag and continued. “Your benefactor brought you here because you were probably the first among us to have seen Dio in person in Egypt.”

“And I’m guessing this shitbag’s name is Dio?” She didn’t mind getting information in the form of little snippets but Avdol always spoke to her in a pretty straightforward manner, to see him so disoriented in his thoughts was putting her off ease.

He only nodded.

Vera cleared her throat and then turned towards the man beside her. “And care to explan what my benefacto has to do with him?”

“Dio is a pest that started with the Joestars-“

It took three cigarettes for Avdol to get through the brunt of the Joestar family drama- not even mentioning the finer details not even they were aware of. “So this Kujo kid is just a pit stop before we go back to Egypt?”

The prospect both excited and worried her. She’d be going home but at the cost of possibly facing Dio.

“Don’t think on it too much- Mr Joestar still has to affirm that his grandson doesn’t have a stand.”

Vera laughed with her head back. “I kinda figured a little arrest scare wasn’t enough for him to come all this way.”

The two rose up from the bench, Avdol taking her suitcase as the taxi pulled up.

Vera was nearly convinced Jotaro Kujo didn’t have a stand, so when she crawled into the hotel bed in her room, she was convinced that she’d be able to sleep the jetlag off. The 10 am call from the front desk was enough to prove her very wrong.

“Yes?” She grumbled into the phone.

“Good morning, Vera.” The painfully smug reply from Avdol almost had her dropping the phone back onto the receiver. “The taxi to the police station will be here in half an hour.”

She dropped her head into the pillow and gave a muffled scream. Without much further protest she rolled out of bed and prepared to meet the day. Avdol met her in the front office with her own pack of cigarettes. “You’re supposed to be a good influence on me.”

Avdol only shook his head, a smile behind the cigarette between his lips.

At the police station, they were greeted with a rather frantic looking officer, ushering them through the offices and down to the cells where the inmates cowered from the oversized teenager lounging in the corner cell with junk that, needless to say, didn’t belong in a jail cell.

Before they could approach the problem at hand Avdol greeted Mr Joestar. The sound of his name had her eyes shoot up at the greying monstrosity of a man in front of her. Joseph Joestar smiled at her warmly before extending a white gloved hand for her to shake. “A pleasure to finally meet the student whose report card I get in the mail.”

Vera could’t help but give a laugh- just as much as she only knew the name of her benefactor, he must have only known her for her report cards.

“The honor is all mine, Mr Joes-“ her sentence died out on her tongue due to the subtle metallic click on her palm. Her smile slid off her face and her gaze shot between the clicking on Mr Joestar’s hand and his seemingly oblivious smile.

When the realisation finally dawned on him Joseph swiftly held his other hand out with a toothy grin (and maybe a dust of color on his cheeks). Vera shakily shook it, relieved at the slight heat from a human palm in the hand she held now. “Sorry, I forget not everyone is lacking a right hand.” He chuckled awkwardly but Vera struggled to hide the genuine laugh behind her hand. “A tale for another time?”

Mr Joestar gave a bark of laughter, throwing a jovial arm around her shoulders. “I just knew you had moxy, kid! I knew right after that call I got from your principal about the maurijuana ring you busted because one of the dealers ripped you off.”

Avdol was quick to bring the topic back to the trouble at hand, speaking to both Vera and Mr Joestar (mostly to Vera’s relief since they were still in a police station). “Not to interupt a long-delayed acquiantance but how would you have us remove Jotaro from his cell, Mr Joestar?”

“By whatever means- Avdol, I trust your judgement.”

Avdol looked at Vera, “He simply won’t leave his cell. Any idea if you could get him out?”

Her eyebrows shot up in intrigue, “Without force i suppose you mean?” She looked at one of the officers nearby. “How long has he been in there?”

“About a week.” One of them answered, sounding unsure.

She nodded, looking over to the cot that was visibly too small for a teenager of such bizarre proportions. “I could just bring him out the easy way-“

“After that I’ll take over.” Avdol finished her thought for her.

Vera shrugged, strolling past the other bystanders to stand in front of the cot Jotaro was seated at. She peered down at him between the bars, his aquamarine gaze peaking just beyond the brim of his cap- like he was trying to stare HER down.

When she refused to waver he only gave an angry ‘Tch’ as he pulled his cap lower over his eyes. Vera brought Fortune behind her and waited for him to bring his open soda can to his lips. To his surprise the can was sealed. Jotaro’s gaze angrily shot towards her and her stand, the disk that replaced their pointer finger knuckle still quietly moving backwards.

“So you possess an evil spirit as well, so what?”

“We don’t speak the same language, Kujo. Your default is force but I’d like to mess with your head first. I won’t force you out of your cell. You’ll come out on your own volition.”

Another indifferent scoff as he reached for the pack of sodas that once stood on the table nearby. He looked almost disbelieving at the empty space, soon becoming angry as he rose up on his feet and yelled. “Knock it off, woman.”

“This is gonna sound so childish but seriously, knock what off? Your cap? Because I’m sorry to say...” she held the cap Fortune had phased from his head and into her hand beside her head. “I already have.”

Jotaro’s eyes grew wide for a moment before he reached through the bars at her hand. She only took one step back out of reach as she put the cap onto her own head. “The cell is unlocked, by the way.” Was all she said as she turned to the guard who watched in disbelief as the rest of the junk in Jotaro’s cell phased back to their original places. “May I smoke in here?”

He only shook his head.

“Hey! You annoying bitch! Stop it with the stupid tricks!” Jotaro yelled from behind the bars. Vera continued as if she didn’t even hear him.

“That’s a shame- I’ve never had this brand before.”

In her hand she held the cigarettes from Jotaro’s back pocket. For just a moment she turned her gaze to him, wildly angry eyes meeting her own. “What’s the matter, Jotaro? Familiar pack?”

He didn’t even need to feel his pocket to know it was his. “I said quit the tricks, woman!”

“Oh, then you’re not gonna like this next one.” She smirked as she started walking towards the exit- focusing Fortune onto Jotaro. In her peripherals she could see the extension of his stand’s hand moving past the bars. So she retorted by having Fortune grab hold of the stand’s wrist and force it against the bars with a loud clang. Jotaro’s temper flared and just as he took his first physical step closer to her she had focused Fortune on reverting Jotaro’s body outside of the cell- just like he was last week.

She threw the cap back at him as she stood beside the border wall between the the two cells. “Was that so hard?” She asked as she peered behind her shoulder at the other teenager. He stared in disbelief at his position on the same side of the bars as her.

Vera stepped closer and took hold of his wrist, bringing it up to place his cigarettes into his palm. “You’re welcome. Now, you gonna share a cigarette with me outside and explain why you wanna hide in a dark jail cell or are you gonna do this the hard way?”

“I can’t control the thing that possessed me. For those around me’s safety- I won’t be leaving this cell.”

Vera followed the dramatic bastard as he opened the cell and sat back down on the cot, throwing his legs up once again.

“I mean I saw that ‘spirit’ try and grab your cap back for you so I think you have a bit more control over it than you think but I mean who am I to say, right? Clearly,” she chuckled as she slid her hands into her pockets. “You chose the hard way.”

Vera turned around to take Avdol’s place leaning against the wall, watching the fight unfold before letting Fortune turn back Jotaro’s damages with a wave of the hand.

Fortune’s palm softly rested on Avdol’s shoulder as they left the station, reverting any injuries he could have gotten in the scrap.

“I think Jotaro has burns you could heal.”

Vera’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Nah, he chose violence.”

Avdol laughed, placing a hand on Vera’s shoulder. “I’m surprised at the control you have over your stand. Dare I ask what it had cost you?”

Vera had once told him that every skill she learned, every major thing she had accomplished with Fortune came at a cost.

Most of her healing she had learned on the field hockey team she was forced to participate in- she’d fixed knees and thumbs and sometimes teeth during water breaks but her tricks with time and space came at considerably greater costs.

Some were as simple as having bad luck and slow reflexes that sent her down a flight of stairs too quickly, other times it was tricky little traps set up by boys behind the track field locker rooms.

In a sense it made her smart enough to deal with life, and luckily she only paid a fee per use and when and where the cost would be charged sometimes felt like it would haunt her.

“Just a sprained ankle.” She lied. It was a tale for another day, she wasn’t very excited to tell him the truth in that moment but she would eventually.

At the café they brought Jotaro up to speed with Dio and everything happening in Egypt. Holy also offered her home as a place Vera and Avdol could stay until their departure.

“And when you get up in the morning, you can just roll it up and put it back in the cupboard.” Mrs Kujo cheerfully explained as Vera knelt beside the futon Holy had rolled open for her.

“Thank you, so much. Mrs Kujo.” She bowed her head in thanks- feeling the soft futon gently calling her name to sleep.

“It’s no trouble dear- it’s the least I could do for helpin with my son.”

Vera could see her movements slow down, her hands becoming shakey as she fiddled with the sheets in front of her. The tears streaming down Mrs Kujo’s cheeks broke Vera’s heart as they dripped onto the corner of the comforter. Without second though, Vera got up and brought the tissue box to Holy and tried to comfortingly rub over her back.

“It’s alright Mrs Kujo, you’ve been through a lot.”

Holy’s teary eyes gazed at Vera and even more she wanted to wrap her arms around her and comfort her but she figured that she would be overstepping. “He’s not a bad kid, I promise. He’s really such a sweet boy.”

Vera had to bite her tongue from asking if she was sure- she’d heard how he spoke to Holy, to her it almost seemed unforgivable but she couldn’t deny a mother’s love for their own child. So with a soft smile she answered. “I believe you, Mrs Kujo. Things are just... strange.”

The smile that lit up Holy’s face brought such relief to Vera’s heavy heart and with a dramatic reach, Vera’s neck was caught in Holy’s embrace. “Oh thank you for understanding!”

For a moment Vera had no idea how to react, simply letting the little woman crush her in the hug, swaying happily until she was reminded how long it had been since she’d hugged her own mother... and how she’d never be able to.

“What do you like for breakfast?” Holy suddenly released her from the hug, smiling brightly.

“Uhh-“

“Anything! Even an English breakfast, maybe an American one, anything.”

Vera took hold of Holy’s wrist to try and calm her down. “Show me what you like to eat for breakfast- I’d love to see what a traditional breakfast looks like here.”

She brightened up considerably and like a whorlwind of good nights and sweet dreams she was out the door.

Vera crawled into her futon quietly to try and forget why she hadn’t had a home-cooked breakfast in years.

Bad idea.

With a start she jerked herself up from her nightmare. To cope with the shaking she shot up out of her comforter and grabbed her cigarettes.

She was about to slide her door open but the crack of thunder and the door opening on its own had Fortune leaping from her body defensively. Before her stood Jotaro Kujo, peering down at her with an unreadable expression in the dark.

“Can I help you?” She asked perhaps a bit too aggressively, smoothing her hair back down.

“You made a lot of noise. I came over to make sure you’d shut you up.”

“Do have any idea how much of a creep you sound like? Although I have to admit, I’m not particularly afraid of you.”

She slipped passed the mountain of a man and brought a cigarette to her lips when she stepped outside the room.

“I didn’t mean to come off that way- you sounded like you were crying.”

She turned around to look at Jotaro who had now slid his hands into his sweat pants to watch her walk down the hallway.

“It’s okay, I’ve heard worse. But you need to cut that shit out with your mom- she actually loves you.”

Jotaro’s gaze moved to the garden just beside the elevated wooden hallway, watching the rain drizzle over the little bushes literring the edges of the garden. “I know.”

Vera figured there was more to Jotaro than just being an abrasive asshole- she could probably sit and psycho-analyze him to pieces but she found it best not to pry to far.

“Join me for a smoke break?” She asked as she held the open mouth of her pack out to him.

He padded over and reached in, bringing one to his lips.

[one-boring-person]

You Asked For It.

John Spartan x reader

Warnings: sexual themes heavily implied, some injury detail, swearing

Context: John has to teach the reader a few things ;)

A/n: this wasn't what I originally had in mind to write, but it happened, so here it is!

Masterlist

"Is that a punch bag?" John sounds mildly surprised as he steps in behind me, eyeing my domicile with interest. 

Glancing over at the looming shape, I smile fondly and go further into the room, calling out for the lights as I go, illuminating the poster-laden walls and memorabilia-filled shelves. I grin, gesturing to a particular wall, where a very familiar poster is stuck to the wall, the trinkets placed meticulously on the shelf well-known to the other cop.

"It is. I watched a couple of Rocky movies and got into boxing." I shrug, for once glad that my double life between Cocteau's world and Friendly's rebellion has meant my speech is more like John's.

"You like Rocky?" He questions again, turning an amused smirk on me, "You've got taste."

"Thanks." I chuckle, ignoring the flush of heat rising to my cheeks, "Do you want anything to eat or drink? I still only have the old stuff, though."

"No, I'm good, thanks. Could use the bathroom, though." He declines, removing his hat and placing it on the table to his left, leaving his stun baton with it.

"Just over there." I point to the room, smiling shyly as he thanks me and goes into it, the doors closing behind him smoothly.

Left to myself, I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding, before I collect myself and move off towards my wardrobe of clothes, swiftly picking something out. Stripping off, I change into these clothes, feeling slightly more at ease as I throw my uniform into a pile, trying my best to calm my racing pulse. The sensations I feel with John around are new and inexplicable, nothing I've ever experienced before, despite my spending half of my life down in the sewers with men and women who didn't abide by Cocteau's rules.

Uncomfortable, I go back over to the table, picking up John's hat as I approach, carefully running my fingers over the soft fabric. It's his old beret, the one from before he was incarcerated in the cryoprison. He insists on wearing it now that our police department has been retrained into a more competent faction, saying it feels better than our own uniform caps. Touching it now, I can see why he might think that - it's one of his only links to the time he came from.

"You alright, (Y/n)?" John's rough voice interrupts my thoughts, snapping me from my reverie as I spring back, dropping the hat with a sharp swallow.

"Y-yes, sorry." I stammer, running a hand through my hair as I try to regain my composure.

John lifts an eyebrow but doesn't push it, watching as I go to the side and take out  a bottle of water, idly punching the punch bag as I step past it, the action pure instinct by now. It rattles loudly on its chain, swinging back and forth from the blow, slowly coming to a halt again as I return to the main room.

"So how long have you been boxing?" John questions me, following me and taking a seat in the square depression in the floor, watching as I sit opposite him.

"Oh, about four years? Maybe longer." I inform him, flexing my hand absentmindedly.

"Four years? Damn, you must be good." He praises, rolling his eyes when the machine by the door buzzes at the sound of his words.

Blushing, I take a sip of water before replying.

"I guess so." I chuckle, embarrassed by the focus on me.

"Is that what happened to your knuckles?" John asks me, gesturing to my hands.

"My knuckles?" I frown, confused.

"Yeah, I noticed you have quite a few scars on your knuckles." He explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, right. Yes, the scars are from the boxing." I confirm, placing the bottle down to rub a finger over the ugly scar tissue, "When I started, I never used anything to protect my hands. Eventually it started to hurt, and got pretty bad, so I started wearing gloves."

He nods at this, leaning over with his own hand outstretched, glancing up at me for permission. I nod, offering my arm to him as he gets up and comes to sit beside me. Taking my hand carefully in his, he waits for me to relax into his touch before he starts to softly caress the marks, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. My breath hitches in my throat from his secure grip, my lip pulling between my teeth as I relish the feeling of having him so close to me after so long of having next to no physical contact from another person.

Having noticed my sharp intake of air, John pulls back slightly, lidded eyes flicking up to meet mine.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asks quietly, voice somewhat huskier now that he's in closer quarters.

"N-no, it feels...nice…" I admit, turning my face away out of embarrassment again.

After a moment, I feel his fingers gently press against my chin, my eyes widening as he tilts my face towards him.

"Don't be embarrassed, (Y/n). This kinda shit is normal." He hums, lightly caressing my jawline with his thumb as the machine across the room buzzes again.

"R-really?" I stutter, unable to think straight with the feelings his thumb is now stirring up.

"Yeah. Totally normal." He leans closer, our proximity so near now that I can breathe in his comforting scent with each breath, a sense of relaxation flooding me. 

Inexplicably, I become aware of an urge within me, my body wanting nothing more than to lean into him and press itself against his muscular frame, my hands almost itching to smooth over the taut plains of skin I know to be underneath his tight-fitting uniform. Subconsciously, I swallow dryly, still held captive by his dark stare, only now noticing how his pupils have darkened, nearly swallowing the deep brown of his irises.

"Can I kiss you, (Y/n)?" John suddenly asks, his breath fanning out over my face as he speaks, his voice dropping an octave as he watches me for a reaction.

Nerves suddenly explode within me, my eyes widening in panic.

"I, err, um…I've never…" I stumble over my words, flustered by his request, wanting to say yes, but terrified I'll disappoint him.

"You've never kissed anyone? I figured." He chuckles lowly, the sound reverberating through me as he gently reaches around to grip my hip, "I also figured you'd want to learn."

And with that, he drops his other hand to my waist and pulls me over to him, easily manoeuvring me into his lap. Squeaking in surprise, I feel my hands fall to his chest, my legs instinctively wrapping around his lithe waist as he presses himself against me. His fingers gently run over my back, one of his hands coming up to cup my face, pulling it closer to him, our lips brushing ever so lightly against each other.

Tenderly, John presses his mouth to mine, the action careful and caring, allowing me space to pull back if I want to. Unsure of what to do, I allow my instincts to take over, glad now that I watched Huxley's movie collection with her, remembering how some of the romantic scenes in those played out. Moving hesitantly with him, I kiss back, heat rushing through me as my heart pounds loudly in my ears, my hands gingerly moving up to cars through his dark hair. Smiling slightly, he pulls me closer, kissing a little harder as my eyes fall closed, pleasure flooding me, my body relaxing into John's grip. He sweeps his large hands up my body, rubbing my back reassuringly as he pulls back for air, watching me closely again.

"How was that?" He husks, licking his lips.

"Amazing…" Is all I can manage, breathless from the kiss, my heart still racing.

"Good." John grins, leaning in to kiss me again, holding me tightly against him as his lips smooth over mine, a groan escaping him as I accidentally pull on his hair, "Careful, or kissing won't be the only new thing you'll try tonight."

The promise behind his words makes me gulp, an odd desire sparking to life within me as his hands slide down to cup my ass, using it to pull me closer to his torso. Curiously, I let my hips jump forwards a little, relishing in the way his hands tighten around me and a guttural groan falls from his lips.

"Alright, you asked for it." He growls playfully, a smirk on his lips.

All of a sudden, I find myself on my back, the dark haired man hovering over me briefly before he plasters his lips over mine again, grinding his hips down onto mine. From the new sensation, I can't help the moan that escapes me, every new sensation unfamiliar to me yet so very welcome. Chuckling, John pulls away and kisses down my neck, mouthing at my pulse as he goes, drawing louder sounds from me.

"You're gonna love this." He promises me, speaking against my skin.

A low shiver goes through my body at his words.

[bourbon-ontherocks]

(Previously, on GG rewatch...)

Phew. So I guess this is it. Season 3 finale, it was ABOUT time.

Is Phoebe naturally awkward or just pretending? Also, Ruby, blabbering around about how you know the ins and outs of real cash is stupid. And do NOT get me started on leaving your purse in plain sight of the customers. Everybody rolls it down their chair, especially since Ruby has her little motorized chair, I'm sure she's got storage space there for her purse.

WHY DOES DEAN KEEP COMPLAINING ABOUT THE UGLY DRESS WHILE HE'S THE ONLY ONE FOR WHOM BETH WEARS THAT KEYHOLE SWEATER??? THIS MAN DOESN'T KNOW HIS LUCK AND I WANT RIO TO SEE THIS SWEATER IN SEASON 4 PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Can we all agree that Beth buying Dean the spa store is the ultimate stage of infantilization for him? Last episode, he asked for it because he sucked at a basic delivery job, then played pretend with his legos, and now mummy's buying it for him??? Cute. See also: Gross.

Oh my Gosh, I love Eric!!

I absolutely love Mick casually mentioning his own hot-tub

OMG Rio is such an asshole!! I love him (and I had completely forgotten about the existence of this scene, but in my defense, those outdoor meetings in the dark all look the same to me...)

I'm with Stan on this one, Ruby is really starting to act like a mini-Beth. And that's not a compliment.

Annie randomly popping technical corporate terms just cracks me up

I would love a S4 reveal that Rio bugged Beth's house when he emptied it because the crime conversations these women have in there, oh lord.

Why is Beth's kitchen suddenly refurbished? I thought she was broke

So let me get this straight. I did research, and this is totally a praying hands emoji. It's called folded hands and stands for prayer, and RARELY a high-five 

DIANNE!!!

"What makes the most sense is couple therapy. Not grand larceny." I don't know you but I find this absolutely hilarious coming from Beth.

Are we supposed to feel happy or sad for the girls that they seem to literally have no other friends than each other?

Oh, a French pop song. It's been a while.

Let me tell you something. When you start basing your criming strategy on your kids' science homework, something's definitely off.

Oh hi, ponytail dude!

FFFS, LET BETH POOP, DEAN!!! #deuceinpeace2021

At this point, the strip-club hustle could have been done with shreded newspapapers, there's no need for fake cash when you're in fact burning it. Sounds like a lot of extra work. Also, there has to be a follow-up inquiry after the bags burned, right? So the club's gonna look suspicious no matter what.

Did Gayle just imply that Dean and she actually fucked???? Also I love that even for the sake of a lie Beth can't bring herself to say something nice about Dean, haha!

"So you steal from me to pay back what you stole?" Why is Stan suddenly sounding like Rio?? Ruby's turning into a mini Beth, I'm telling you...

New theory: Rio stole the battery from the smoke detector when he emptied the house because he's PETTY

Oh God, the perfectly-sized boobs discussion, I can't believe I forgot about that...

Aside from the obviously disgusting context, I find this scene extremely well-acted, from both Matthew and Christina's side.

Is this doing-the-dishes-together frame supposed to show us the distance between Beth and Dean or on the contrary tell us they're a good team?

MICK!!!!

I know that he's probably messing with her, but the idea of Rio going to art class just makes me so gleeful!!!

So, Beth is literally asking someone how one moves out?? After she discovered google last episode?? I'm dead.

OMG, Beth is just so LOUD in wanting to let Gayle know that she's behind the robbery!!! She doesn't even fill in the check!!!!

Ruby wore the ring!!! I'm so happy!!!

Can I just point out that gramatically speaking, Rio is planning on taking a dip in the barbecue accessories??

WANNA JOIN ME

I have SO MANY thoughts about "those things breed diseases". Like, why are you asking Beth to join you in a tub if it's to display disgust for the concept immediately after, you weirdo?? Unless you're trying to imply that you'll take a dip ONLY IF IT'S WITH BETH??? Although again, on a grammatical point of view, "those things" refers to the sales representative, which opens a new can of worms. And bringing up diseases?? When I'm totally headcanoning that Mick told Rio that Beth claimed having herpes??? I'm so ready for an STD-themed season 4!!! I just want Rio to casually bring that up to Beth and Beth having already forgotten about it!!!!

“NEXT TIME EMPTY THE CLIP”!!!!! ONLY DEATH WILL PART THEM IT'S CANON

Alcoholic moms at the park. Everything is normal.

[sailorspazz]

[Fanfic] Internal Rhythms

Yup, my 10 Dance obsession has reached the point where I need to create fan works, since there’s so little out there (I don’t understand, this manga started 9 years ago, where are all the fics and fanarts?! There’s not even much in Japanese!)

Title: Internal Rhythms

Series: 10 Dance

Rating: M (for sexual content)

Words: 5,200

Summary: Suzuki and Sugiki are having issues syncing with each other's rhythms while practicing the quickstep. Sugiki's suggestion for how to get back in tune ends up pushing their relationship to a place it has never gone before.

Where to read: Posted on fanfiction.net and ao3. Or just stay here and click below!

Ah shit, here we go again…Somehow, I’ve wound up falling into a tiny fandom that has barely any fan works, so I guess I have to help fix that :P Since 10 Dance is an ongoing series, I actually have tons of speculative ideas/headcanons developing for what could happen, but for now I’m content to wait and see what direction the story heads in. Instead, I’ve chosen to write a smutty one-off based on chapter 32; though there are some details referenced from that chapter, if you’ve at least read through the end of volume 5, you should have enough context for where their relationship currently stands (as in, they definitely wouldn’t be messing around with each other at this point…and yet, I still couldn’t stop my dirty mind from imagining scenarios where they push things further >:D). Hope you enjoy this take on what could’ve gone down during a late-night training session!

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The wall clock inside the Sugiki Dance School struck 1:20am as both Shinyas took a few final sips of water and prepared to start their usual overnight practice session. Though at first it had felt awkward to spend so many hours together even after they had chosen to no longer pursue their romance, they had been able to effectively push their feelings aside and maintain a professional training partnership—even as both were keenly aware that those desires still remained simmering just under the surface.

“Alright, let’s give the quickstep another shot,” Suzuki stated as he walked over to where Sugiki stood loosening the top buttons of his shirt. “We lost out on practice time yesterday since our rhythms were off or whatever, so we gotta make up for it today.” He was eager to finish learning the basics of all five standard dances so he could spend the remaining months before the 10 Dance perfecting his movements and refining his style.

“Indeed. Let’s waste no time getting started, then.” They joined hands, and Sugiki instinctively closed his eyes as Suzuki’s arm wrapped around him and pulled him snug against his body. He began to hum a tune, as he knew his late-night partner benefitted from having music to dance to, and they started to move. Though they started out smoothly, it was not long before their feet were clearly moving at different paces, causing them to nearly trip and fall before catching themselves in each other’s arms.

“Dammit. Not again,” Suzuki sighed in frustration as he broke out of hold. “Why’s this happening now? We’ve never had this issue before. Not even right after…” He trailed off, not wanting to bring up the breakup that still felt too raw and heartbreaking to talk about a couple of months after it had occurred.

“I believe it is simply the nature of this dance. Since it relies so heavily on the two dancers being in sync with one another and dancing as one, any variance in their internal rhythms can throw it entirely off balance.”

“I get that, but do you got any bright ideas for how to fix this, Mr. ‘standard expert’? Has it happened before with other partners?”

“It has, and the solution was…well…” He paused a moment, looking slightly amused by the memories he was recalling. “When it occurred with partners I was romantically involved with, we would express our intimacy to get back in tune with each other.”

“What, you mean fuck?” Suzuki said bluntly.

“Eloquent as always, aren’t you?” he replied with a chuckle. “It needn’t go that far in most cases. Usually just a simple kiss would suffice.”

Suzuki found himself dwelling on Sugiki’s implication that he had dated more than one of his previous partners. “Just how many partners did you…ya know what, never mind.” Though he already suspected it was true, getting confirmation that Sugiki had a tendency to fall for his partners would make what they had shared feel less special.

“I have never shared that sort of relationship with Ms. Yagami, I can assure you.”

His response was not assuring in the slightest. “Yeah, thanks, but I wasn’t worried about you getting busy with your married partner. It just seems like you…” Suzuki stopped himself from finishing his thought, as he was still concerned that the answer to his earlier unfinished question was one he did not want to know. “Whatever, I said forget it already.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sugiki retorted, not allowing the subject to be dropped just yet. “I’m quite certain that percentage-wise, you have been involved with more of your partners than I have.”

Suzuki looked flabbergasted at this accusation. While it was true that he had had romances with one hundred percent of his partners, when that number only amounted to two people when he included the man in front of him, it was hardly a fair comparison. “Are you shitting me? Don’t go twisting this around to make me look bad! You know damn well I’ve…” Before he got too far into his tirade, he noticed the satisfied smirk Sugiki was wearing. Clearly he was riling him up on purpose for his own amusement, and Suzuki had unwittingly fallen into his trap—though there was a part of him that did not mind being baited by him, and it was something he had actually missed when their relationship had been in a more fragile place following their separation. “This ain’t helping solve our problem, smartass. You got any solutions that’re actually useful?”

“We could try it,” Sugiki murmured under his breath, just barely loud enough for Suzuki to hear.

“Huh?” Suzuki wondered if he was really implying what he assumed he was, but was almost afraid to ask. “What exactly do you wanna try out?”

Sugiki met his eyes with an expression that to most would come across as stoic, but because they had spent so much time together, he could see a twinge of heartache behind it. “We shared a romantic bond before. Perhaps we could realign if we connected in that manner once more, however briefly.”

The acknowledgment that he was suggesting exactly what he had suspected caused Suzuki’s heart to leap. Despite continuing to share incredibly close contact every night as they practiced, neither one had broken down and expressed the desire to rekindle the affectionate side of their bond, even though it was something they could mutually sense from each other through their touch. Now Sugiki had finally gone and voiced it aloud, and Suzuki did not know how to feel, his elation being tamped down by the memories of how badly things had ended before. But he found he could not just shoot down this suggestion outright. “So…you’re saying we should make out?” he asked incredulously.

“It can be much chaster than that. Perhaps just a light kiss would do the trick, like the ones you gave me to help loosen me up during our early Latin sessions.”

His face now looked inscrutable, to the point where Suzuki could not tell if he actually thought this would be helpful, or if he was just looking for an excuse to kiss him. However, there was a growing part of him that did not even care if it were the latter. We really shouldn’t do this, he thought to himself. But his inner doubts did not match the words that came out of his mouth. “Well…if you think it’s worth a shot, then…”

Suzuki sauntered closer to Sugiki. As they stood facing each other, both looked unsure if they should actually go through with this. It was an unfamiliar awkward tension that neither wished to endure any longer, so the two began leaning their faces toward one another. However, Suzuki noticed something and grabbed Sugiki’s face, squishing his cheeks with his hands. “Hold up, what’s this I see?” he asked suspiciously, peering into his partner’s mouth. “Looks like the tip of your tongue is poking out awful far for someone who was just gonna kiss me lightly.”

“And what about you, Suzuki-sensei?” Sugiki brought his thumb up to the other man’s mouth and ran it gently across his bottom lip. “I was peeking as well, and those lips of yours were parted quite wide.”

Neither could truly be upset at the other since both were guilty of the same offense. Which made it even clearer that it would be incredibly difficult to restrain themselves and keep to just the gentle kiss they had agreed upon. Suzuki knew this meant they needed to stop, but as he stared into his partner’s yearning eyes, he found it impossible to turn away. He wanted him, he had missed sharing this with him, and he could not allow this opportunity to slip away, even if he knew he might regret it later. “Ah, fuck it,” he mumbled as he slipped his hand around and clutched the back of Sugiki’s head, smashing their lips together forcefully. They quickly locked together in a tight embrace, their tongues thrusting vigorously into each other’s mouths. As ballroom professionals, they had previously compared their make out sessions to different styles of dance: sometimes their tongues slid smoothly together in a gentle foxtrot, at other times they undulated in a sensual rumba. This time, as months of pent-up passion poured out of each of them, it was more like an unconventional paso doble between two matadors battling for dominance.

Why’s it so easy to fall right back into this? And why does it feel so good with him? Suzuki wondered as they continued their maddening yet thrilling dance, relishing the feeling of Sugiki’s fingers twisting through his hair and tugging at his curls. Though in the past he had been more accustomed to romantic partners who would yield to him, there was something about the aggressive push and pull between the two of them that was undeniably appealing—in fact, he even preferred it now.

Sugiki began sucking on the tip of Suzuki’s tongue, causing a moan to slip out. Shit, this is getting out of hand. The urges he had harbored before about ravishing his late-night partner were coming back in full force; he needed to end this before he tried something regrettable again. Against the will of his body that was screaming for more, he managed to dislodge his tongue from Sugiki’s mouth and pull his face back. They breathed heavily as they gazed at each other, and Sugiki made a move toward him again, but Suzuki turned his face so the other man’s lips landed on his cheek instead. Sugiki seemed to accept this alternative, and placed a sequence of tender kisses along his jawline. “I knew this was a bad idea,” Suzuki lamented with a deep sigh.

“Why do you say that?” Sugiki whispered, pressing his lips to Suzuki’s ear.

“’Cause it’s gonna be really hard to stop now.”

“Indeed, I can see how…hard it is,” Sugiki noted with a sly glance downward. “That’s quite a bomer you’re sporting.”

Suzuki’s face turned red, though he also snorted out a laugh. “I seriously can’t tell if you’re fucking with me at this point, or you really don’t know that word. It’s boner.”

“Ah, right.” The sexual tension between them had cooled a bit during this brief exchange, but Sugiki found himself still craving more of his Latino partner. The fact that July was fast approaching and Norman would soon be arriving to take over Suzuki’s coaching made him truly want to make the most of the remaining time they had together. He was on the verge of suggesting something they had never done before, but struggled as he weighed his desires against logic telling him they should not take this any further. “It would be difficult for you to attempt to dance in that state. Perhaps…” His uncertainty caused him to trail off without finishing his proposal.

“Ah, y-yeah,” Suzuki laughed awkwardly. “I guess I could take a break and…”

Before he could walk away, Sugiki grabbed his arms and held him in place. “Perhaps,” he started again, sounding more confident this time as he met his partner’s eyes. “I could…take care of it for you.”

Suzuki’s eyes widened in disbelief. For one, he had never seen someone offer to get him off while wearing such a gravely serious expression. But more importantly, the fact that he was making this offer now when they had never gone beyond kissing was completely unexpected. And he knew allowing this to happen could jeopardize the comfortable working relationship they had developed with each other. Despite that, something awakened in him at the sound of the other Shinya’s words, and there was no way in hell he was going to turn him down. His mental state quickly switched over to the seductive mode that he typically got into when he went out to pick up women—though ever since their trip to Blackpool early in the year when he had started to recognize his feelings for Sugiki, he had actually not slept with anyone at all, and was currently in the longest dry spell of his adult life. Even if they were never officially dating, and even after their romance ended, it would have almost felt like cheating since he had sincerely fallen in love with him. A sensual grin spread across his face, his eyes half-lidded as he softly stroked Sugiki’s cheek. “Oh yeah? How do you plan to do it?” he purred flirtatiously.

Sugiki shivered as he was taken in by the sudden shift in Suzuki’s mannerisms. He did not give him an answer, but instead kept his eyes locked with his partner’s as he dropped down to his knees and reached for the waistband of Suzuki’s pants.

Suzuki raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t willing to do that.”

“Certainly not under the circumstances you presented me with before. That would have been highly undignified,” Sugiki explained in an agitated tone. “Under the right conditions, though, I don’t have a problem with it.” He pulled Suzuki’s pants down to his lower thighs, then slipped his hand through the opening in his underwear, pulling out his erection.

Suzuki chuckled as he noticed that, though Sugiki seemed to be willing himself to keep his expression as calm as possible, his eyes told the story of a man suddenly feeling apprehensive as he held another man’s dick in his hand for the first time in his life. “You say you’re fine with this, but it’s not like you’ve done it before.”

“Yes, well…” He did not finish his reply aloud, but thought to himself, For you—and only you—I’m willing to try just about anything. His hunger for this man had compelled him to push things further than he had intended, but at this point he could not back down. He gave Suzuki’s member some soft strokes with his hand, feeling it grow bigger and firmer. He brought his lips forward and placed them gently on the tip, then poked his tongue out and swirled it in circles around the head. He was stalling a bit due to his hesitation, and he knew Suzuki could sense that as he stared down at him in anticipation, so it was time to take the plunge. He moved forward and slipped the head of Suzuki’s erection into his mouth. He sucked lightly as he pressed him just a bit deeper inside, moving back and forth slowly as he got used to the sensation of having a foreign appendage inside his mouth. Once he got a bit more comfortable, he removed his hand and pushed further yet again, reaching a place where he had most of Suzuki’s length in his mouth. He began to relax a bit, and his head movements went from halting and erratic to smooth and consistent.

Holy shit, this is really happening. Suzuki closed his eyes and exhaled a lustful sigh. I can’t believe I’m getting a blowjob from a guy. He smirked as he thought on it further. No, not just any guy. The Shinya Sugiki. The Emperor. A man who sits near the top of the world, down on his knees for me. Fuck, that’s hot. The ego boost he got from this realization aroused him even further, making him want to feel the sensation of being completely enveloped by his partner. He gripped Sugiki’s hair and tried to hold him in place while shifting his hips forward, but Sugiki’s hand flew up and gripped the base of his shaft, preventing him from going any deeper. He shot a warning glare up at Suzuki, but did not stop what he was doing, now using his hand in conjunction with his mouth to stroke and suck him simultaneously. It seemed the balance of power was an issue between them, as it always had been; even though Sugiki had put himself in a vulnerable position, he still wanted to remain in control. Suzuki could respect that need, and though he still kept his hand resting on his partner’s head, he merely ran his fingers through his hair rather than made further attempts to steer his actions through force.

Suzuki recalled that the reason this had all started was because of their mistimed internal rhythms. There was certainly no more intimate demonstration of one’s rhythm than what Sugiki was doing to him currently, so he decided to concentrate on the pace of his partner’s actions. As soon as he put his focus on it, he was struck by how even and steady it was. Like a piece of music…oh my god, what if he’s playing a waltz in his head? A chuckle nearly escaped him, but he bit down hard on his lip to hold it back. Nah, he doesn’t even need music. He’s probably doing it to the count. One two three, four five six, one two three…it’s like I’m getting blown by a metronome. That mental image made him snicker aloud, causing Sugiki to stop and peer up at him quizzically. “Sorry, sorry. I just…thought of something weird.” He could tell from the look in his eyes that Sugiki was miffed that he was letting his mind wander when he was going extremely far out of his comfort zone to do this for him, so Suzuki felt the need to encourage him a bit. “Please don’t stop. It really does feel amazing.” Though he still looked slightly wary, Sugiki quickly got back into the same rhythm he had been using before. Clearly, thinking about anything was only going to get Suzuki in trouble, so he chose to just relax and enjoy Sugiki’s efforts.

Though the pace he was keeping felt good, it was not quite reaching the speed Suzuki would need to finish. The situation already felt delicate, and he did not want to seem like he was making demands of his partner, so instead of saying anything, he used the fingers resting on Sugiki’s head to gently tap out a faster rhythm. He immediately picked up on what Suzuki was subtly requesting of him, and altered his pace accordingly. Sugiki’s other hand reached around to squeeze one of his partner’s well-muscled ass cheeks. His fingers slipped ever closer toward the center, an avenue Suzuki was not ready to explore. “H-hey,” he protested firmly, causing Sugiki to return to merely caressing his backside. “Ah, Sugi…hngh…mmph.” He could not help but vocalize his pleasure as he drew closer and closer to his climax. He figured it was also probably fair to warn the other man so he could be prepared. “I’m gonna…gah!” He did not even finish the words before tossing his head back with a moan as a wave of ecstasy coursed throughout his body. Though Sugiki had been aware that this would be happening soon and had tried to brace himself, it was still a shock to feel another man’s essence spilling into his mouth. He swallowed a little bit, but the thick, unfamiliar texture sliding down his throat triggered his gag reflex and made him cough, causing most of Suzuki’s cum to dribble down onto his shirt.

Suzuki offered a hand to help Sugiki stand up. Even after pulling him up, he continued to grip his hand, flashing him a contented smile. “Well, I sure didn’t expect a training session like this.”

Sugiki could not help but grin back at him. His heartbeat quickened as they stared into each other’s eyes. He wished they could stay this way forever, but he knew that the longer they continued basking in the afterglow, the harder it would be to tear themselves away from each other. “Well then, shall we get back to training?”

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Suzuki squeezed his hand tighter, keeping him from breaking away. “We might’ve solved my issue, but now it looks like you’re having one of your own.” His eyes darted downward to the obvious bulge in Sugiki’s pants, then looked back up at him with a lecherous grin.

“Ah, well, I…”

Suzuki swiftly eliminated the gap between their bodies, wrapping one arm around him while his other hand rubbed against the front of Sugiki’s pants. “Sucking me off got you pretty worked up, huh?” Suzuki murmured coquettishly. Sugiki could feel his neck and ears growing warm as he was once again being taken in by his partner’s highly effective seductive mode; it was hard to believe that a man who was so enticing in his everyday existence could amp up his sex appeal even more, but somehow Suzuki managed to pull it off. “You got such a low opinion of me that you didn’t think I’d return the favor?” he teased impishly.

Truth be told, this had all been quite an impulsive whim on Sugiki’s part, and he had not really thought ahead to what Suzuki might do for him in return. But now that the offer was on the table, there was no way he was going to pass it up. Sugiki draped his arms over Suzuki’s shoulders and gazed amorously into his eyes. “If you insist,” he answered softly before leaning forward to press his lips to his partner’s. The pace of this kiss was much more languid than the one they had shared earlier, yet still steeped with the passion of a tango as their tongues slipped past and against each other.

Suzuki began to shuffle his feet, leading them toward the side of the room as they remained attached at the mouth. They reached the benches and sat next to each other, then Suzuki pushed his weight toward Sugiki until he had him lying down. He brought his lips down upon Sugiki’s neck, kissing and sucking at his bare skin. Sugiki noted that he was definitely going to wind up with hickies from this, and would need to remember to keep his shirts completely buttoned up in the presence of others for the next few days, including at home with his mother.

Suzuki’s mouth drifted toward his throat, and he started moving on a pathway downward, placing kisses on each section of newly exposed skin as he undid his shirt buttons one by one. His other hand reached up to play with his nipples, and Sugiki could feel a part of him that wanted to resist; a man like him who was used to being in control was not entirely comfortable being put into such a submissive position. Still, he was willing to go against his own nature in this instance, as he craved the release his Latino partner was offering him.

After making his way down to Sugiki’s bellybutton, Suzuki went to work undoing the other man’s belt and unzipping his pants. He reached down into his underwear, frowning slightly as a realization hit him. “Um, wow. I could tell you were packing when our dicks said hello to each other in that first practice session, but god damn…” He sat up again and unveiled Sugiki’s erection, gawking at its impressive length. “Makin’ me feel inadequate here,” he muttered under his breath. Though he had desired Sugiki sexually for several months already, somehow he had never mentally prepared himself for the blow to his ego of being with a man who was better endowed than himself.

“You’re perfectly adequately sized, I can assure you.”

Suzuki looked dumbfounded for a second, then growled, “Your assurances are really shitty, ya know. How the hell’s being called ‘adequate’ supposed to make me feel better?!” In his mind, he added, Maybe someday I’ll fuck you, and we’ll see if you think my dick’s just ‘adequate’ then, but thought better of expressing that prospect aloud.

Sugiki was struggling to maintain a neutral expression, feeling a grin threatening to break out across his face. Getting Suzuki flustered was one of his favorite—and often easiest—forms of entertainment, and it was when he found him the most adorable. Though on second thought, perhaps this was not the smartest time to aggravate him, as it could cause his hot-headed partner to go back on his offer.

Suzuki narrowed his eyes at him, now noticing the smug glee Sugiki was trying to conceal. “You son of a bitch…” He had gotten him again, and though he was a bit peeved, he nevertheless loved seeing the spark of joy in the other Shinya’s eyes, which had become a rarer sight following their breakup. “You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy,” Suzuki said with a bit of a sneer as he began moving his hand in long strokes up and down Sugiki’s shaft. His partner sighed softly, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side, but Suzuki reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to face him again. “Hey. We ain’t dancing the waltz here. Don’t look away from me.” His lips curled up in a lascivious smile. “I wanna see your face when you come.” His grin widened even more as he watched Sugiki’s entire face turn beet red. “Wow. I’ve never seen you blush that hard before.” After repeatedly falling victim to his partner’s efforts to mess with him, Suzuki was pleased to achieve a small victory of his own.

As Suzuki continued to caress him, Sugiki tried to maintain the eye contact that the other man wanted, but it felt too intimate, to the point where it was uncomfortable for him. He continued facing upward, but instead of concentrating on what was in his field of vision, he fixated his attention on the rhythm Suzuki was using to pleasure him. Like when he danced, it was a bit inconsistent and unconventional, yet imbued with passion and enthusiasm. In any case, after spending months secretly wondering what it would be like if they pushed beyond just kissing, being touched by Suzuki like this was quite the thrill.

Suzuki saw a blissful smile appear on his partner’s face, which in these circumstances actually annoyed him. Ugh, why’s he always so elegant? I don’t wanna see that gentlemanly front when I’m jerking you off. He started pumping his hand faster, hoping to coax more of a lustful reaction out of Sugiki. His response of breathing slightly faster and biting down lightly on his lip was not nearly enough to sate Suzuki’s desire to see him let go, so he quickened his pace even more. Soon after, a slight hitch in Sugiki’s breath and his body tensing under him were the only signs Suzuki got to indicate that his partner was climaxing, which was immediately followed by the sensation of ejaculate spilling over his hand.

After taking a few moments to recover, Sugiki arose from the bench. “Let me get something so you can clean up,” he offered as he started walking across the room. He returned shortly with a towel and handed it to Suzuki.

“So…did you like that?” Suzuki asked curiously as he wiped his hands.

“Hmm? Of course. Why would you think otherwise?” Sugiki answered, looking confused.

“I mean, you weren’t really reacting very much, so…”

“Does the end result not make it obvious that I found it pleasurable?” He glanced at the towel Suzuki held, seeming to view it as proof of his point.

“Okay, yeah, obviously you got off, but I’m just more used to…”

“Oh, is it that you usually have women screaming your name in bed?” he chortled.

“That’s…not what I was trying to say…though it is true,” Suzuki acknowledged. “I just thought maybe I’d…I dunno, get to see you let loose a bit, get sloppy or something.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t tend to do that.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Despite his best efforts, he had not succeeded in making Sugiki drop the impervious guard he kept around himself. Maybe I can’t get you to show me that side of you yet, but someday…

Sugiki could tell it was frustrating for the other Shinya that he had not given him the sort of responses he was accustomed to, but the fact was that it was difficult to open himself entirely up knowing that they could not be in a relationship at this point. Still, he could not let go of the hope that they might one day be together. If anyone’s capable of pulling that side out of me, you’ll be the one to do it.

Once they finished cleaning up, Sugiki disposed of the towel and changed into a new shirt before returning to his partner once more. “All right, shall we resume practice, then?”

“Yeah, but could we work on some dances I already know first? My brain’s a bit…foggy right now, so it’d be hard to try something so new.” He always fell into a fairly relaxed state following sex, so he wanted to save Sugiki the headache of trying to teach him quickstep when it was likely he would absorb very little.

“Certainly, but do you not think we should at least try to see if the compatibility of our rhythms has improved at all first?” He looked at Suzuki with a sly smirk. “That is why we did this, yes?”

“O-of course,” Suzuki stammered. “Yeah, let’s test it out a bit.” They positioned themselves in hold once more, beginning to move to the tune of Sugiki’s humming. Their feet flew across the floor in the basic quickstep patterns Suzuki had learned so far, each of them keeping in mind the feeling of the internal rhythms they had sensed from each other. This time around, they were able to continue moving at high speeds without stumbling, dancing around the room for a while before coming to a stop. Both were panting heavily from the effort, and as they stayed in hold a bit longer, Suzuki blushed slightly as Sugiki beamed at him with a dreamy smile on his face.

“Perfect.”

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Oh ho ho…my Shinyas are very naughty boys! Much more so than they’ve been in the story so far (I suppose a similar level to the Taboo side story, but that’s not exactly canon). I’m excited to get this done and add another fic to the very small pile that currently exists. I really hope more fans will join me in celebrating this beautiful manga and its central pair of dance crazy dumbasses who can’t yet—but will hopefully, eventually—figure out how to make it work between them *cough*just be switch goddammit*cough*. In the meantime, I’ll keep wallowing in headcanons that might possibly become fics if the mood strikes me again. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! ^_^

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Sixty Three

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

October 17th, 2000

Remy shook his head as he trudged around campus. He hated this. He hated this whole thing. The only thing that made college bearable was the idea that he might get a paying job from it, but he didn’t even have that job security for certain, so really, why was he here?

A familiar voice called his name from across the quad and Remy turned, rolling his eyes as Emile ran up to him excitedly. Yeah, college was annoying, and Emile could be a bit of a nuisance, but he was at least a familiar nuisance. And if Emile wanted to hang out with Remy, well, Remy wasn’t going to stop him, even if he didn’t see what Emile saw in him.

  May 20th, 2002

Remy kept the frustrated tears at bay for as long as it took for him to clock out at Starbucks and walk down the side, to the back parking lot. Once there, he punched the dumpster that was backed up against the building and a few tears slipped out from pain and from anger. He was beyond pissed, and he didn’t know why. He had seen this coming. He knew they weren’t going to pick him to become the new manager. And yet, when he heard the news, it still felt like his hopes shattered into a million pieces.

“It went that badly, huh?” Emile asked from behind him.

Remy turned swiping at the tears on his cheeks to find Emile standing there, hands in his pockets. “Yeah,” he settled on saying.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Emile said, closing the distance between them and hugging Remy close. “You don’t deserve to be overlooked just because you don’t want a degree.”

“They didn’t even pick from the store,” Remy said. “They brought in someone else who doesn’t know the system, just because they have that stupid Bachelor’s.”

Emile winced and Remy sighed. “I mean, I saw it coming that I wouldn’t get the job, but seriously? Outside? Not even from another store, just someone who’s never worked there before. We’re gonna have to teach him everything in the span of maybe two weeks!” He shook his head. “Emile, I’m really sick of this.”

“I know you are,” Emile said.

“One day, I can quit this crappy job and be my own person,” Remy said. “One day.”

Emile nodded as he lead Remy to the car. “And that day will be amazing,” Emile agreed. “Until then, we should probably ice your hand and make sure nothing’s broken.”

Remy sighed. Punching the dumpster was a dumb move, but at the very least, it beat punching brick wall. “Yeah,” he said flatly.

Emile drove them home and Remy leaned back into the chair, trying to stop crying. All he was getting for his troubles was a headache and more tears. “My head hurts,” Remy griped.

“Not surprised,” Emile said. “Do you need to take some ibuprofen when we get back?”

“I don’t think so,” Remy said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just need to get over myself.”

“Hey, hey,” Emile said, pulling into the parking lot. “You have every right to be upset, Rem, that’s an upsetting thing. You don’t have to ‘get over yourself.’”

Remy grumbled, “Then why am I getting so worked up over something I knew would happen?”

Emile shrugged. “I’m not inside your head, Rem, I can’t speak for you. If I had to hazard a guess, it’s because hiring someone from outside the company just adds insult to injury.”

Remy laughed hollowly. “Understatement,” he groused, getting out of the car and inspecting his hand. It was swelling a little, but didn’t immediately come across as “broken,” which was a promising sign. “You ever break a bone, Emile?” he asked.

“Uh...not that I remember. There were a couple close calls, but nothing ever broke. I did once dislocate my knee,” Emile said.

Remy winced. “Ouch. How?”

“One of my friends took martial arts classes, and taught me and some of our friends some of the moves, but we didn’t do much stretching before we tried it...and I wound up with a lot of pain the next day in gym class, to where I could barely walk.”

“Ooh!” Remy exclaimed, hissing. “That’s pretty bad.”

“Yep, six weeks of physical therapy, a knee brace, the whole deal,” Emile said. “You break a bone?”

“I fractured my wrist at like...age six.” Remy laughed. “I was running down the sidewalk, and I assume I tripped, because the next thing I know, my wrist feels like it’s on fire and I’m sprawled on the ground. Went to school the next day, couldn’t use scissors without pain, went to the nurse, and she pretty much knew it was broken within five minutes of seeing it. Called my mom, they took me to the doctor’s, got X-rays, and I got a sick-looking cast.”

“Your mom sent you to school with a broken wrist?” Emile asked incredulously.

Remy shrugged. “She didn’t know how to identify a broken bone, she just assumed I cried for half an hour because, y’know, I’ve always been a crybaby. You got sent to school with a dislocated knee!”

“Because it didn’t really start hurting until gym class,” Emile said. “If a six year old cries for half an hour over tripping on a sidewalk, something’s up.”

Remy waved off Emile’s concern. “Eh, she apologized about it later. It wasn’t the end of the world, and because it happened during the school year, I still had two months where I could swim in the pool after the cast came off.”

Emile squinted at Remy and Remy rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You’re excusing your mother’s actions again.”

“She didn’t know, Emile,” Remy said. As they got inside the apartment and Emile gave Remy an ice pack, Remy continued, “You don’t have to know everything about injuries to become a parent.”

“No, but I still think crying for half an hour over a trip should be investigated. And if a school nurse can identify the injury that quickly, shouldn’t the parent be a tad bit suspicious before the kid leaves for school? Because obviously there would be swelling.”

Remy shrugged. “Listen, this wasn’t too bad. She was just forgetful in this case,” he defended. “She’s done worse, you’ve seen her do worse.”

Emile pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did she dismiss other health concerns?”

“I didn’t tell her about other health concerns, like in high school when everyone was turning against me except Toby. She couldn’t dismiss what she wasn’t told about.”

“But you didn’t tell her because she would dismiss it?” Emile questioned. “That seems to be what you’re implying.”

“Okay, she brushed off some things in middle school, things that I don’t even remember because I blocked them out. They couldn’t be too severe if I’m still standing here, though,” Remy brushed off.

Emile sighed and Remy inwardly grimaced. He knew that sigh. It was the sigh Emile got whenever he thought Remy was dismissing key parts of his mental health. “Remy...”

“Can we just agree to drop this subject and let me return to bitching about not getting the manager position?” Remy requested. “I know my mom wasn’t on top of it. I know she was bad. And we just disagree about how severe this infraction was. I agree that she should have done something, at least asked me why I was crying so much, but she didn’t. It’s over. Done with. Has been for years. I just want to gripe.”

Emile sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s just talk about what’s going on in the here and now.”

Remy nodded his thanks. “I don’t think my hand is broken,” he said idly. “It would be swelling more if that was the case. Even with ice, it would look different.”

“Agreed,” Emile said. “You still shouldn’t have punched the dumpster.”

“It was that or the brick wall,” Remy said drily.

Emile shook his head. “Rem, you worry me, to this day.”

“Yeah, well. I’m getting better at controlling my anger, it just...needs an outlet, and I couldn’t hold it back further without risking lashing out, so I took it out on the closest inanimate object to me,” Remy said.

Emile rolled his eyes and took the ice pack off Remy’s hand to kiss the knuckles. “You may be an impulsive man, but you’re my impulsive man. And I’m proud that you’re working to control the more angry impulses.”

Remy offered Emile a smirk. “I thought you liked it when things got heated.”

“Not in this context,” Emile laughed.

Remy grinned, before looking at his hand and sighing. “Man, I wish I could be running my own shop right about now.”

“Hey, one day,” Emile said, squeezing Remy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but that’s going to take so long,” Remy sighed. “Too long. I’ll still have to deal with this new manager, and what happens if I can’t hide my resentment well enough?”

“Remy, I know this probably doesn’t help, but I’m fairly sure you can hide your disdain behind your customer service smile. You’re consistently way better at that than I am. He might know it’s fake, he might not. Regardless, he can’t hold you accountable so long as you don’t say how you really feel about him and you keep smiling.”

“I don’t want to keep smiling,” Remy sighed. “I want to be able to be mad, and to cry, and I want people to know that I’m human.”

“Unfortunately, the downside of working in food service or retail hell is that a lot of people won’t see you as human,” Emile said knowingly. “But you’re always free to be human around me, and our friends, and anyone else we run into when you’re not working.”

“I know,” Remy grumbled. Didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to put up with this.

“Rem, time will pass without you realizing it, and one day, you’re going to wake up, and realize you have the money and power to start your own coffee shop, and you’re going to absolutely crush it,” Emile said with conviction. “Trust me. It might be hard to see right now, but you’re destined for greatness.”

That, at least, got Remy to laugh. He both loved and hated when Emile got all storybook cliché on him. “I would disagree about the destiny thing,” Remy said. “I carve my own destiny.”

“Exactly why it’s true,” Emile replied smoothly. “You don’t wait around looking for your purpose, you go out and make a purpose that fits you.”

“I would argue that I wouldn’t make the purpose. Plenty of people have dropped out of college before. Many people have become entrepreneurs. It’s not exactly a unique path,” Remy brushed off.

“Yeah, but it still goes against the norms of what people expect of you. Instead of just going with the flow, you’re standing tall. And nothing can push you around if you don’t let it. Honestly it’s...pretty inspiring,” Emile said.

Remy laughed. “Please, Emile. I don’t have this heart-stopping origin story that you’re making this out to be.”

“I don’t know,” Emile said with a shrug. “I just think that you’re pretty impressive. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t have ever gotten this far.”

“I mean, I think you could have gotten out of my family situation before I ever did, and made a name for yourself however you wanted,” Remy said with a shrug in return.

Emile offered a slightly bitter smile, which surprised Remy. “Rem, believe me when I say that the only reason you believe that is because my parents taught me how to stand up for myself. You learned how to stand up on your own. No one taught you. If I had been in your position, I probably wouldn’t have lasted through high school. You’re impossibly strong.”

Remy shrugged. “I mean, I guess I’m strong. I’m taking you at your word on that, but I didn’t learn how to stand up on my own. You’re the one who taught me that.”

Emile shook his head. “No, Rem, I may have shown you where to stand tall and demand respect, but even before I met you, you were trying to make your own way in the world. Studying business over accounting, remember? That was all you. You’ve got what it takes to make your own place in the world. And if I were a betting man, I’d put all my money on you.”

Remy stood there, shocked into silence for a good minute. He didn’t know what Emile saw in him to cause that sort of conviction, but he knew that Emile was serious in this. And he wasn’t about to disappoint Emile. He smiled. He would get through this. He’d get through it and go his own way, sooner or later. “I love you too, Emile.”