#plus some of the fixed angles the camera takes is bad

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 4177

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Lots of Fluff, these two can’t keep their hands to themselves, oral (m receiving), two dumb dumbs in love, mentions of food, Readers nickname is Poppy (no physical description at all), talks of sobriety

Series Masterlist / Playlist/ Main Masterlist

Previous / Epilogue

FLASH * CLICK * FLASH * CLICK

It’s blinding, even with the late afternoon sun perched high above Hollywood Boulevard. 

The theater, El Capitan, its signage bold and ornate give the movie house its old Hollywood charm, welcoming those in attendance to the star studded movie premiere. 

There are so many people, stacks and stacks of bodies with cameras and flashes barricaded behind a wall of bigger cameras with more people holding microphones— masquerading as a friend-next-door the moment the camera rolls, dropping the facade the second the interview is over. 

Dieter is grateful the minute you both step out of the car that you had agreed to attend the event with him, having you by his side to ground him, not knowing what feelings or emotions this movie celebration would evoke— but having you as his plus one, as fans and paparazzi wailed and cheered for him after being away from the spotlight for close to 3 years—made it feel less paralyzing. 

FLASH * CLICK * FLASH * CLICK

It’s a precise balance of excitement and jitters, mixing and swirling a heady cocktail of emotions, nerves tickling at the surface— but the dizzying sensation settles, not dissolved but thinned and manageable the minute his voice hits the chaotic noise filled air. 

“You good?” A steady hand settling on the small of your back, his words a whispered question only meant for you, knowing how overwhelming this whole scene can be, even for someone who has been in the business for as long as he has. 

“Yeah, I’m good— it’s just a lot to take in. I don’t know how you do this regularly?” A hint of a nervous crack in your voice.

“Honestly, I have no clue— my memory of them is a bit hazy— I do know though, having you here makes it seem less terrifying, so thank you for coming. If it’s too much, you can skip it? I can do my obligations and meet you on the other side?” His thumb draws comforting circles to the opening where your dress reveals your bare skin.

“N-no— I can manage, I’m sure once we get moving it will be fine. Would rather stick with you anyway.” Your teeth gnawing at your lower lip, keeping your focus on him only, as you both wait for the line for actors, producers and directors before you to continue down the strip of red plush carpet. 

“Have I told you how hot you look in this dress?” He asks against the shell of your ear, a feather light kiss to the juncture of your jaw before pulling back to fix his gaze back on yours.

It's a simple cut, tailor made to your figure. It’s champagne in color with delicate wide straps draped down the curve of your breasts, the satin fabric flowing down the length of your body, the low-cut exposing your back and a romantic train pooling around the ground as you stand. 

“Hmm, I think beautiful, sexy, gorgeous were a few of the terms you used since I slipped into it— I’ll add hot to the list— Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself, Handsome.” 

His double breasted all white suit fit him so well, his white button down lacking the buttoning of the top few buttons, emphasizing the taut lines of his gorgeous neck.

“Alright Mr. Bravo, right this way. You’re going to stop on the designated tape marks briefly, let them get their shot, then make your way to the interviewers and there will also be some fans at the end of the carpet before making your way inside.” 

The sweet young lady assigned to Dieter for the evening debriefed the two of you as you prepared to step out into the sea of flashing madness. Putting you both front and center to the onslaught of yelling and demanding requests from photographers, ensuring they get the angle and shot that their Big-Name-Magazine-Boss will plaster across glossy pages accompanied in tiny print ‘shot by’ next to their name.

“You ready for this?” Dieter asks, almost as if he’s giving you one more chance to bail.

“No, but lead the way Mr. Bravo.” A kiss for good luck to his cheek as he removes his hand from your back, interlocking your fingers together followed by a few squeezes as he starts to guide you to the first stop on the carpet. 

“DIETER! TO YOUR RIGHT!”

“MR. BRAVO! DIETER— RIGHT HERE!”

“DIETER!”

“DIETER!”

“DIETER!”

Dieter’s confident and casual demeanor is charming, standing off to the side as he gets his photo taken, watching him as he does his dutiful requirements as the leading actor at his movie’s premiere. 

You study his profile, angular and captivating, his demure half smile on display as he does his best to look in every direction is name is being called to, the way his chestnut locks look lived in and controlled at the same time,  his overwhelming beauty is doing wonders to keep your nervous thoughts at bay— selfishly eager to get him home to have him all to yourself. 

As the line moves, Dieter keeps you close, your body angled in towards him at the next stop, an arm wrapped low around your waist. Your noses nearly touch when he looks over to you, a silent check in and an excuse to give his eyes a break from the bright bursts of light— honestly any reason to look in your direction. 

“Poppy, babe— I think they want your attention.” His husky voice breaks through the riotous hollering, his head tilting in the direction of where the ‘Miss, this way please!’ is being called out. 

You manage to tear your gaze away from Dieter, no real idea where to look or who to focus on, giving your best not super forced almost toothy grin, taking a few breaks to focus back on Dieter then looking back out to the wall of intense flickers— Dieter’s constant need for his sunglasses making total sense now.

It’s near the end of the carpet, where the interviewing line begins. Reporters asking their stream of questions— some related to the movie, others more personal. But all fairly tame and revolving around the shooting of the movie, wanting to know more about how Dieter worked to bring his character to life and if his sobriety was hard to manage at any point in time during filming. 

The focus directly on Dieter, letting you ride through the interview process with a front row seat. 

“Dieter, this is not a role we’ve seen from you before— it’s new and refreshing I would think. How different was it from your usual rogue characters, to play this soft romantic heartthrob?” The interviewer asks, utilizing her time with many substantial questions. 

“Soft romantic heartthrob? You’re feeding my ego right— give me more! It is very new and refreshing, like you said. But also kind of intimidating, since I’m usually playing some asshole— oops— Sorry! Um, some jerk in most of my roles, which kind of seemed like second nature for me at a point in my career. To then jump into this role, it felt foreign and scary when we started shooting— but I found a rhythm and I’m really happy with how it worked with the rest of the cast.” 

It’s ‘nice meeting you’ or ‘great talking to you again’ before progressing further down the carpet, to the next round of questions. 

“Dieter, congratulations on being almost 3 years sober now! That must be an incredible feeling? Did you find it hard to jump into this movie all while trying to manage your sobriety?” The next interviewer asks. 

“Thank you, that’s kind of you to say. It’s definitely an indescribable feeling, but I’m grateful for it everyday.” He gives your hip a light squeeze as he says it. “Sure, it was hard at times— not because of temptation or anything, but because I wanted to be fully present and show the entire team that I wasn’t going to let them down, it’s just something I actively work on daily now. But coming  into this movie in a new head space,  I was determined to hold myself accountable, making sure I was checking in with everyone too was a big thing for me. Plus, it didn’t hurt to have this gorgeous woman in my corner— I was grateful I got to come home to her every weekend, reset before the new work week.”

It’s the first he’s mentioned you out of all the answers he’s given so far— mostly sticking to directly related to the topic and movie. Your relationship is no big secret in your small town, but this is the first the two of you have attended something of this magnitude as a couple, even after being together for 2 years.

You’re not going to lie though, it makes you melt when he looks at you as he says it, awarding you with his lopsided smile and a wink before redirecting his attention back to the reporter.

“Miss, what do you think was the contributing factor in helping Dieter stay on track for this role.” The microphone pointed at your face as the interviewer looked to you for a response. 

“Umm, I don’t think it was anything I did in particular— Dieter was the one who made all of this happen, I was just there making sure he knew how amazing he was doing through it all— and supported him however he needed me. All of his success is because of him, I can’t take credit for any of that.”

The reporter seems satisfied, thanking you for answering it honestly. 

“You better hang on to her, Dieter. I think you’ve got yourself a keeper with this one!” Trying to strum up some playful banter as the interviewer comes to a close. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t dream of letting her go.” No care to the cameras or anyone around you, as he softly presses a quick peck to your lips— once, twice, three times just because he can. 

“Thank you for your time, Dieter. Enjoy yourselves tonight.” A hand shake to both you and Dieter, sending you off with a grateful smile for chatting with her. 

Each interview had similar questions to previous ones he had already done, but he did his best to give each of them original responses. 

One last interview, a major publication, waiting patiently as you both approach their little assigned space. They’re kind with their questions, which has been a relief for him the entire evening to not be bombarded with any humiliating or embarrassing comments. 

“What does Dieter Bravo do in his spare time now? You’re no longer living in LA, any plans to move back?” A string of new questions are asked to finish off this interview. 

“We own a gallery back in my hometown where I’ve been staying since officially leaving LA, still looking for a permanent place though.” 

“He owns the gallery— I just help run it when he’s off doing his movie star things.” You interject, correcting his statement in a playful manner. 

“Says the woman the gallery is named after. I call her Poppy— Les Coquelicots is poppy in French, also after one of my favorite Monet paintings, so in a weird roundabout way, she does own it— don’t tell her I put her name on the paperwork, so she owns more than she thinks she does.” The last part isn’t a secret because you signed the paperwork, but he loves using the line wherever he can, so you play shocked and laugh right along with him. 

“Are you able to find time to utilize the gallery for yourself? Will we be seeing any art made by the hands of Dieter Bravo?”

“I’ve been working on some things— I won’t say what, don’t want to spoil anything, but there may be something in the works that will be debuted soon-ish.” 

The report congratulates Dieter on his new movie and wishes him the best. 

“That wasn’t so bad. Plus, it was fun listening to you answer all those questions.” 

“I knew you’d enjoy yourself.” Pulling you close to his side as you make your way through the crowd that’s formed at the end of the carpet— agents, assistants, significant others who chose to forgo the carpet entirely, all waiting for the person they came with to finish. 

The assistant from earlier, meets up with you and points to a small group of fans who are all waiting for a chance to meet the stars before they head into the theater. 

You stand back and watch him interact with each of them. Signing magazine and movie posters, pausing for selfies and listening to each of them tell him how proud they are and how excited they are to watch their favorite actor perform in a new film. 

It warms your heart to see him showered with love the entire time. 

“Mr. Bravo, you're going to head in through these doors and there will be someone to help you to your seats.” The sweet young lady guides you both to the main lobby of the theater,  indicating the direction of the main entrance to where the movie will be shown. 

“Actually, can you point us to a side exit— our driver should be waiting for us outside.” Scanning the space for any potential exits that would be easy to slip out unnoticed. 

“Sir, the movie hasn’t started yet— I’m not sure leaving is the best idea. I can have someone come get you and walk you to your seats, the movie should be starting shortly.” The young woman is flustered by Dieter’s attempt to leave early, but just trying to do her job. 

“No offense, but I don’t watch my own shit— you never watch your own shit. You just wipe, flush and move on. I know you’re just doing what you’re told, but if you’ll kindly point out an exit, we’re gonna head home.” 

*

The constant low humming of the car's engine and the way Dieter’s fingers aimlessly map out shapes over your thigh, head resting on his shoulder you’re tucked in close to his warmth in the small back seat, enough to lull you to sleep on the hour and a half drive back home. 

“Hey, Poppy— we’re home.” Dieter murmurs softly as he kisses the top of your head. 

“Hmm?” Lifting your head, dazed as you look out the windows to see the car is parked in your driveway. 

“We’re home. Let’s get you inside.” 

Dieter offers the driver a tip and thanks him for the ride, then grabs for your discarded shoes and your small purse as he slips out of the backseat, hand extended out to you as you follow suit. 

“Oh, shit!” It’s a slight stumble out of the car when your feet hit the cool concrete, falling into Dieter’s awaiting arms, steadying your sleepy frame against his until you're upright and balanced. 

“Thank you.” Voice raspy with sleep, but cognizant enough to give him lingering kiss, a buzz of desire fully awakens you when Dieter deepens the kiss. 

“Mmm, why don’t we take this inside? I think your neighbors have had enough of us at this point.” He mumbles against your eager lips. 

“Meet you inside then.” You purr with one last kiss, before you pull up the hem of your trailing dress and head towards the front door, peeking over your shoulder, bottom lip playfully drawn between your teeth as you wink back at him, still standing in the driveway. 

Shaking his head and laughing, your purse and shoes still in his grip, he follows your lead into the house. 

Dieter’s barely made it over the threshold, closing the door when he feels his body being pressed up against the wooden door, your belongings falling to the hardwood floors with a heavy thud. 

Your mouth moves against his with a fiery want, Dieter falling into the motions seamlessly, his hands gripping at your hips pulling you as close as possible. It’s a dance of angles as your tongue dominates his, exploring as you lick feverishly into his mouth. 

Abruptly, you drop to your knees below him, his eyes blown and he tries to catch his breath. 

“Pop— Poppy…”

His sentence cut off by the sound of his zipper sliding down, rustling of his pants and boxers being pulled to his knees, his cock half hard at just the mere sight of you.  

The press of your lips and tongue against his hip bone is enough to make him fall to the floor, the drag of your upper lip across his skin, breath heated and stirring as you place another to his lower abdomen, wiry hairs tickle at your lower lip— then mirroring the same effort to his other hip. 

“Fuck! Poppy— shit!” His length is hard and throbbing, his mind trying to focus on the way you’re licking the pre-cum as it weeps from the head of his cock, a thick haze of arousal clouding his mind. 

He moans— fucking moans as you take fully in your mouth, his head falling back against the door, a staticy sensation building at the base of his spine at the way he’s repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. 

There’s a lot he wants to say, tell you how perfect you feel around him, how much he loves the way your hands roam about touching every little bit of him as you bring him closer and closer to the peak of his delirium. 

His breath ragged between lovesick whimpers, body tensing in preparation, a slow hum of satisfaction as you continue to move up and down his length— hand gripping tightly at the base of his shaft igniting a hungered fuse. 

“Pop— Fuck! Poppy, I’m gonna— fuckfuckfuckfuck! Babe, I’m gonna come!” 

There’s stars, fireworks, bursts of light. Fists slamming into the door. 

His spend hits the back of your throat, managing to take all of it as he continues to come. 

Warm. Salty. Perfectly him. 

Licking your lips, satisfied with your work, working his suit pants back up, fastening the button as you stand to your full height. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw then to his neck, his pulse rapid against your lips, you pull back to take in Dieter’s blissed out state. 

“Th-that was unexpected— holy fuck! I just— w-when you— I don’t even know, my brain is mush now.” There’s a rasp to his voice as he tries his best to properly form words, pinched brows and  breathless as his lungs desperately fill with air. 

“Just wanted to make sure you know how amazing I think you are— watching you tonight, seeing how much you love being in your element— I’m really proud of you, I think everyone else is too.”

“Fuck, I love you so much Poppy.” 

He tastes remnants of himself on your tongue, and if he hadn’t just come down your throat minutes ago he would definitely be hard and ready again for you. 

Instead he takes his time just kissing you, pouring every ounce of love and affection he has for you into it, your dress bunching and pulling as his hands anchor your body to his, kneading the swell of your backside— your presence is overwhelming and not enough at the same time. 

There’s a low grumble that cuts into two of you making out, still situated in the front entry of your home. 

“I love you, Dieter. But I think I need something with a little more sustenance, though. I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick, then I’ll pull something out to reheat.” Taking a few steps back from him, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand and adjusting the strap of your dress. 

“Dessert before dinner kind of woman, I like it.” A throwback to your first date. 

“Mmm, you should know me better by now— I’m a dessert anytime kind of woman.” You smirked, mindful of your dress with each slow step backward. 

Dieter pushes off the door, closing the space between you, his mouth molding perfectly over yours, unhurried and attentive. 

“Hurry your sexy self back here.” He murmurs into the last kiss, swatting playfully at your ass before you turn and head towards the bathroom. 

*

A soft ballad drifts through the house as you make your way back to the main living area, the flicker of light emanating from your studio lets you know where Dieter is. 

“Do you want leftover pizza or some of that pasta?” You call out to him, cold air hitting you as the doors to the refrigerator open. 

“Dieter?” 

You pull the containers from the fridge and set them on the island counter, both options sounding like a great idea the more you think about it. 

When you get to the doorway of your studio, you find Dieter sitting, his brush moving with intent over  one of his finished paintings, still finding reasons to add to it.

Arms crossed over your chest, heading resting into the wooden frame as you lean into the doorway, taking in the picturesque scene before you. 

Recounting the moments over the last 2 years that led you to now. 

How every waking minute you want to be consumed by Dieter in some way, he nestles into every single thought or emotion you experience, always able to bring a smile to your face. 

Up until this point, love was the downfall for many of your relationships, loving too much or not enough, a hindrance to your own happiness. 

But with Dieter, there’s a deeper purpose, a greater feeling of being loved and respected. 

His effervescent spirit radiates from his soul, embedding himself into every corner of your heart. 

He’s a tidal wave of intensity, pulling you under and filling your lungs to their fullest capacity, you drown in him, never wanting to surface again. 

You’re grateful for his existence, for barreling into your life at full speed and for loving you with a passion you never knew before him. 

Dieter is your home. 

“That one is my favorite.” You state, moving into the room closer to where he is. 

“Hmm, I think you’re just saying that.” 

“Could be— or it could be the truth.” Your fingers carding through his curls as you stand behind him, admiring each brush stroke and line he created. “I know you don’t think you are, but you’re more than ready— they’re all so beautiful and I’m so lucky to have been witness to you painting each one of them.”

Dieter’s first art opening was next week, but he still found himself second guessing every little detail in each painting— his self criticism lashing out as the days grew closer. 

Silhouettes, every curve and crook shaded and painted in a manner reminiscent of your naked form, not recognizable to anyone but Dieter and yourself. Heads replaced with elaborate bouquets of poppies in washes of pinks, oranges and reds. 

“Okay— they’re done.” He says, placing his brush in the jar of stained water. 

He swivels to face you, his hands resting on your satin covered hips, three brief squeezes— I love you. 

You brush a loose curl off of his forehead, fingers trailing down his face, light scratches to his patchy beard he so proudly grew out. 

“So, you said you’re still looking for a place?” A cheeky smile forms on your face, looking down at where he’s still sitting. 

“I did, didn’t I?” There's a hint of sarcasm as he says it, the corners of his mouth starting to quirk up. 

“Mhmm— is staying on my couch getting too boring for Mr. Movie Star Dieter?” Your head tilts to the side in question, knowing well that in the last two years he hasn’t slept a minute on your couch— save for his afternoon naps. 

He stands, pulling you into his chest, eyes gleaming with an unexplainable excitement as he looks at you. 

“Nah, I love your couch.” He reaches into the pocket of his pants to grab for something. 

“So much so, I think I want to stay on it permanently— if that’s okay with you?” He asks, holding up a shiny object in front of you. 

A gold ring with a 3 carat, princess cut green emerald stone, flanked by two smaller diamonds. It’s ridiculously flashy, looking  exactly like something Dieter would pick out—  and you’re so taken aback by how perfect it is. 

You’re shocked, speechless, in complete awe of what he’s asking you right now, without even outright asking.

“You want to marry me, Dieter?” Your eyes glistening in the candle light, a few tears managing to slip down the slope of your cheeks. 

He slips the ring onto your bare finger. 

“Baby, I want you to be mine forever. Marry me, Poppy?”

Both your worlds, so beautifully different but painted together so well. 

“Yes! Forever— yes!” 

There’s tears and laughter, between shared feelings and drawn out slow kisses, text to friends and family sharing the exciting news. 

 “Thank you, Dieter. I’m so glad I gave your best a chance.” 

Next

A/N: I’ve been so eager to finish this chapter, and the minute I did I cried! I love these two so much!! I’m so fucking grateful for every single one of you who took time out of your day to read, reblog, comment, like, message about this series in any way shape or form— it’s truly been an amazing journey with all of you!! Thank you!! An even bigger thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for her constant support through every single chapter, you are my hero! Epilogue coming soon!

[pivsketch]

spared yall my rambling about process in the original post. u can see all that and the janky unedited scan in here tho:

used some neutral gray copics, some vermillion red watercolor i've had lying around for quite some time, on some ancient bristol paper that i've had for like. a decade. its not even cool smooth bristol! its got tooth! maybe i should be using pencil-y type stuff on it

loads of digital editing in csp to fix pretty much everything after the fact: the t-marker set was real handy for keeping things looking seamless. i also randomly picked one of the countless pencil-esque brushes i've downloaded to mimic the thin pen lines-- i think this time it was mameo pencil

ok so. i am so extremely not a traditional arts kinda guy. im flat out not patient enough for it. measure twice cut once? when i typically draw i don't measure and i cut endlessly. its my worst habit and probably why i get wrist problems 😔... working on paper, im constantly experiencing the consequences of my actions what the heck

theres no undo¹ and white gel pen/paint is not opaque enough² to take back mistakes. and you can't just keep putting down more markers and watercolors, it'll fuck it up! less is more! plan ahead of time! etc! the sheer permanence of pen ink and alcohol markers and, god forbid, watercolors is the total antithesis of how i usually work and requires figuring out a different approach to it. which is also why its useful to do. theres like, lessons and principles in there. maybe i can unlearn some bad habits while im at it. or just continue to drastically fix it in post <_< (no!!! i hate doing that!!)

anyway, heres the original scan w/o any edits to it so you can see how much i changed after the fact lol:

pretty early on i realized the head angle was completely off (oops) which affected the space between it and the arm, but, you know, whatever, i wasnt going to care it could just be bad. EXCEPT i also messed up his mouth and face and eyes and overall expression which i DID care about. moxley's got a very specific look to him in the original photo!!! i drew his eyes and brow wrong here, like hes gonna cry or wince or something. the giant eye shines dont help. anyway, the vibes were just off! the edited version gets closer to the emotions id want to depict, though i did editorialize like 7% more frustration in there just due to the nature of what ended up happening in the match. the big wild tough guy badass threw in the towel for his whole team just so the young protege wouldn't die big time! handcuffed to the corner, the only way he could do anything to stop anyone was by ending the match via surrender!! such a shame we didnt get to see that presented properly in the actual show. stop fucking it up with those camera cuts, camera operator!!!

anyway, i digress, wrestling is really cool and drawing on paper is very hard

¹ one time i pinched at my sketchbook because i wanted to pan and zoom in. very embarrassing ² i got gel pens and poscas, it aint ever enough! i could prolly just use a really thick glob of white gouache or something but application would be difficult. plus, you know, it changes the texture of the... everything.

did a traditional study of a photo from aew dynamite blood & guts (its the last image) over the weekend and then heavily fixed it up digitally. if im going to be out here buying art supplies i need to start using them 😑

[allovertheplace-writing]

Picking up my brain so I can play some pokemon violet and persona 2 innocent sin(and eternal punishment once I finish innocent sin) again

Especially persona 2 cuz I never got past the first part of the game due to it hurting my brain TT

[zadien]

Safety in Numbers - TyHil Uncharted AU Pt 2

Despite the glorious heat of the sun, and standing in a beautiful city surrounded by stunning and rich architecture, Hilary was not enjoying herself. In fact, honestly, she was having a very bad day. One, this section of the city was crumbling into ruins around her—thick plumes of noxious, black smoke curling to the hard, blue sky, and the heat had a sweaty fist around her throat. Two, she was in the company of one of the most irritating men she’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Tyson Kinomiya.

Self-proclaimed reclaimer of artefacts; a glorified treasure hunter; with a dash of charm, a streak of intelligence, and an appealing smile, and who couldn’t be trusted as far as she could throw him.  

Tyson was the last person she expected to run into on the blood-soaked, war-ravaged streets when she'd set off to uncover this story. A rocky cove or an underground cavern, sure, but not a war zone. Still, she mused, watching him shimmy up a building with the agility of a monkey, she should have known civil war would pull out looters. 

Her stomach dropped as he pushed off the wall and reached for a small crevice in the wall, latching on with his fingertips and clinging there for a heart-wrenching moment before he climbed higher. She turned with a huff, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her corduroy pants, and studied the devastation. 

She knew Balkov was here in the city, knew he’d donated funds to the state army to help them win the civil war. What she hadn’t expected was just how many of his own mercs he’d transferred in. So, what should have been an on-the-ground investigative piece on the burgeoning war had turned into a conflict zone report where she and her cameraman were running for their lives. 

And then she’d found Tyson. 

Her day had simply gone from bad to worse in a few quick seconds, amplified by a charming grin and friendly brown eyes. She refused to fall for that facade again, she decided, following his progress as he vaulted onto the rooftop. He paused, and as if feeling her gaze, he turned and sent them a jaunty salute. 

“Idiot,” she sighed.

She turned to Kenny. “Have you captured this, all the damage? I’m not letting Balkov spin this, so he comes out the hero. These are people’s homes he’s destroyed, their livelihoods. All gone. All so Balkov can throw his money around and win some clout.” 

Kenny angled his camera to take in the exposed interior of a three-storey building; rubble and debris covered the road in front of it, dotted with broken crockery and shattered chunks of wooden furniture. Did these people have time to run? To escape? To save some of their valuables and memories? 

“Do you think Balkov will donate some of his funds to fix all of this?”

She made a sound of derision. “Doubt it. Men like him only want to see the world burn. They rarely want to fix it.” 

“Come on, it’s clear,” Tyson called, as he dropped onto the street in front of them, dusting off his hands. 

Hilary stifled a sigh, and Kenny lowered his camera, looking between them. “Are you sure you want to keep following him?” 

No. Yes. “Safety in numbers.” 

Plus, Tyson had a gun and knew how to use it; in the same way, Kenny had a camera and knew how to use that. If she was to have any hope of keeping them both safe, she’d need Tyson’s skills, so she’d continue using him for the moment. Once they were safe, they could happily go their separate ways. Her to uncover the truth about this devastation and him to find whatever treasure had ensnared him with its sirens’ call. 

They headed down a narrow street, sticking close to the walls and stepping over craters and crevices in the ground. When they turned a corner and spied water gushing from an exposed pipe, flooding the street, Hilary stifled a sigh, rubbing her arms. Tyson exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck as he scanned the rooftops.

"We need to find another route," he muttered, sitting down on a windowsill and pulling out his map.

Hilary sidled over to him to peek over his shoulder, quickly picking out their location. "What about through there?"

"Too open, we'll want somewhere with more cover."

More cover, she repeated silently, because there could be snipers. She rubbed her arms a little harder.

“Why are you even here, Hilary?” Tyson finally asked, closing his map and slipping it into his pocket as he stood up.

She ignored the way his tan henley clung to his arms and shoulders, and the way his forearms tightened and flexed as he reloaded his gun. Now was not the time to let that weird little flame of attraction rekindle. Tyson was not someone she could trust. 

But she could be civil.

She brushed down her blouse and squared her shoulders. “I told you. I’m doing my job.” At his exasperated ‘I’m listening’ look, she added, “I’m going to write an exposé. I got word that a fugitive war criminal was hiding out here and…” 

Tyson’s brows furrowed. “And you were going to what? Capture him? There are people who are paid to do that Hilary.” 

“Not when they think he’s dead,” she pointed out, an edge to her voice that she couldn’t quite conceal. 

She’d heard the same rebuttal from her editor, so she’d taken some well overdue PTO and come here; bribing Kenny with her own funds and his sense of chivalry—but the story; oh, the story would be so worth it. She had become a reporter to always show the true story, and this, all of it, was a tale worthy of being told. Who else would stand up for these people? Not Tyson, that’s for sure. He would only be here if there was some fabled treasure to be found. Was Balkov here for the same reason? Funnelling money into the civil war as a distraction? Could they be using the bombings to blow up temples and museums for loot? It wouldn’t surprise her what people used war to achieve. 

“Well, you’re right about that.” 

Her journalistic sense of curiosity flared, and she inched closer to him, looking him in the eye to gauge his sincerity. “How are you involved in all this?” 

“Uh, well… heh—” 

“There you are, Tyson! Let’s go.” 

Hilary stepped back and stared at the woman striding towards them wearing a pair of stonewashed, skinny jeans, a red t-shirt, a holster strapped over her shoulders and brown, well worn, ankle boots. Her skin was a deep brown and her hair a striking aquamarine that she’d tamed into two plaits. Her brown eyes narrowed at the sight of them and her hand went to her gun. 

“Nope,” Tyson said, stepping between them. “We don’t shoot civilians, Ming-Ming. Besides, they’re journalists. This is Hilary and her cameraman, Kenny. Play nice.” 

“Hello.” Ming-Ming’s mouth twitch in a facsimile of a smile before turning with all seriousness to Tyson. “Okay, but seriously, let’s go. Balkov’s on the move.” 

Hilary’s instincts flared, and she planted a hand on her hip, tucking her brown hair behind her ear. “How are you involved with Balkov? What are you two looking for? It’s not like a war criminal and a treasure hunter operate in the same spheres.” 

Tyson flinched. “I’m not a treasure hunter. I reclaim artefacts.” 

“Uh-huh. So is Balkov an artefact or is he here hunting something he shouldn’t be while brutally murdering innocents in this farce of a civil war?” 

Ming-Ming rolled her eyes. “Okay, Lois, why don’t you go and hunt up your story? And we will go and do what we have to do.” She hooked her arm through Tyson’s and heat burned in Hilary’s gut. “Let’s go, Ty. He’s already flown in Garland. We need to move.” 

There was a vicious sense of pleasure when Ming-Ming tugged him but Tyson didn’t move. Instead, his head turned towards Hilary, brown eyes catching hers; she kept her expression neutral. 

Something flickered over his face and he shook his head, pulling his arm out from Ming-Ming. “No. No, I’m not leaving them here.” 

“They’ll be fine. Right, Hilary?” 

Hilary swallowed her instant denial and mustered up a comforting smile. “Of course. We’ll be fine. We got here without your help and we have a job to do ourselves.” 

She turned to Kenny and motioned for him to follow her, though her heart lodged in her throat at the idea of splitting up and creeping around a city filled with an army of trained mercenaries. 

“See, she’s fine. Let’s go.” 

There was something about Ming-Ming’s tone, edging towards desperation, that had Hilary looking over her shoulder just in time to see Tyson dig his heels in, eyes locked on her retreating form. Hilary felt a stupid little flip in her stomach. Silly, she scolded herself. They weren’t even friends. He’d used her to get funding for a treasure hunting trip, flirted and charmed her, and then he’d abandoned her—granted, he’d called the coast guards to come get her, but still, he'd left. He’d done it before, he could easily do it again. 

Ming-Ming fisted her hands by her hips. “Tyson! Are you serious right now? We have to go.” 

“They’re coming with us.” He offered a rueful grin at the narrowing of Ming-Ming’s eyes. “Safety in numbers.” 

[soldiermom1973]

Got some game time in tonight, so I thought I'd share what I got done.

I want to gather up explosive barrels to make some of the goblin boss fights easier & I'm pretty sure I can score some in the Zhent hideout, so I fought the gnolls outside of the cave with the Zhent merchants (so I can get the password to get into their hideout). The gnolls/hyenas are in 3 separate groups and I was able to fight each one without anyone calling for help. I actually beat the True Soul gnoll without triggering the cut scene (where you can convince her to feed on her companions, then on herself).

Took a long rest & talked to Astarion about Cazador & got the Weave scene with Gale. When you share a romantic/passionate image with him & then Mystra pulls back, it kind of made me wonder if she did that on purpose. Like, if I can't have him/don't want him, you can't, either, so I'm severing this connection you two have. I know the scene ends the same regardless, but it seems more poignant to me to think of it like that. And Gale sounds so sad when it's over, when the Weave dissipates.

Immediately after I left camp, I got the final 'Gale eats magic stuff' scene (when he confesses about the orb) & the camera angle was all sorts of screwed up. I tried reloading a save three times & it didn't help. I wound up completely exiting the game & starting again for it to work. Plus my graphics are still buggy. I know there's a new patch coming out soon & I really hope this fixes it. It's so disappointing to have such an amazing game suddenly start to fuck up like this one is.

Anyhoo, I went to Waukeen's rest and spent way too much time trying to save that poor guy looking for his wife. I had no issue saving Florrick, but I kept forgetting to save, so every time that guy burned to a crisp, I had to reload & save her all over again. I finally got him, though, talked to his wife (and looted her body), then told him where to find her. Then I proceeded to try to make my way through the flames to loot what I could (barrels of water take FOR-EV-ER to move). Gale can Create Water, but only once per short rest, so that's annoying af. I started getting sleepy & realized it was kind of late, so I figured I'd wrap it up.

When I play on Monday, I'll finish looting the inn, head to the Zhent hideout, then work on stacking explosive barrels around the goblin camp. With any luck, I can take care of Gut and Minthara before calling it quits. Who knows - I might get lucky & save Halsin, too. We'll have to see.

Having said all that, if any of you have any suggestions to fix the renders not loading in, I'm all ears. From what I've been able to find, I'm not alone with this issue and nothing seems to work - I've hard started my xbox (Series S, it has no disc drive), I've uninstalled the game, I've used compressed air to clean the console, and I've even just tried reloading saves when it seems particularly bad.

Charlie's Run (BG3)

Ok, so the TL/DR for this is I started another run with a character named Archie. I was not having fun. At all. I realized I was expecting too much of myself, being the completionist that i am. While grumbling my way through Faerûn, I restarted my original Tav so I could acquire cross save files for my Dear Friend @emmavakarian-theirin I was playing both characters for about a week & realized I couldn't keep that up, so I decided to give the OG tav another run, then go back & finish Archie later.

This is the same character I initially posted about several months ago. I didn't name her then, but since I'm taking this a bit more seriously (from a creative/RP point of view), she needed a name. I settled on Charlie - short for Charlemagne or something stupid like that. She hates her name & much prefers Charlie. She and Archie are sisters. In case you've forgotten what she looks like, here...

She's a half-high elf sorcerer with Draconic blood. She is Very Tall. She will be romancing Gale. I'm planning on using what I learned the first time around & with my Archie run to take care of other things (for instance, I haven't killed Lae'zel and don't really plan to. I want to give her that egg.)

So, let's see.... I'm still fairly early in the game, so I don't have Karlach yet, so Wyll is horn-free. I've talked to Auntie Ethel and am making my way toward her home as well as heading to the swamp to take care of the Shadow Druid thing. I talked to the owl-bear and left the cave with both of us intact. I've found Scratch. I am currently in the Blighted Village and am about to get Shovel/Basket. I will not be making the mistake of not doing the convo to keep them as a permanent summon.

I'll tag this stuff as Charlie BG3, so you can filter out my nonsense if you like. Otherwise, enjoy the ride. Again.

[drabbles-mc]

Unfinished Business

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, sex, oral sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I haven’t written smut in so long, but I’ve read so many good fics in the fandom that it inspired me to give it another shot. So, enjoy some dominant, angry Angel Reyes 🤤

It had been well over a week since you had spent any real quality time with Angel. You understood why he was busy—between the club and his family he hadn’t had more than a few spare minutes here and there to text you, or stop in quickly on his way home to say goodnight before taking off again. You weren’t mad about it, but you weren’t happy about it either.

But things were finally starting to calm back down for him. And yet, he had yet to reach out and ask to come over, or ask you to come and see him. You were patient and understanding but you were also needy. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew that everyone was going to be at the clubhouse tonight, a miniature celebration of making it through a stressful couple of weeks, and you were going to make a guest appearance.

You leafed through your closet, deciding on a low-cut black tank top and a tight dark green mini-skirt. Angel loved it because it matched his bike, and you liked it because Angel’s pupils would double in size every time he saw you wear it. You slipped on a pair of black Converse and set off to do your hair and makeup.

You rolled into the scrapyard before the guys were back, which was exactly what you were hoping for. You parked your car, grabbed your purse, and made your way over to the clubhouse. It was sunny and silent, a very different vibe than what it was going to be in a couple hours when everyone was back home and ready to decompress.

Chucky was the only one to be seen when you strode in. He smiled and waved to you, “Hey, Y/N. No one is back yet.”

You smiled, nodding, “I know. I just got here early to take care of a few things. Plus, I can help you set up! What do you need me to do?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I can’t ask you to do that. Angel would—”

“Angel isn’t here, is he?” you cut him off with a smile, “So, how can I help you, Chucky?”

He shifted on his feet, trying to figure out how to navigate these waters, “I need to go and get a liquor delivery. Can you stay here and keep an eye on the clubhouse for me? I should be back in less than an hour.”

You nodded, “You got it. Go do what you gotta do, Chucky.”

He gave a single nod, “You are the real Angel.”

You laughed to yourself as you watched him walk out of the clubhouse. You loved all of the guys, of course, but there was something so enjoyable about every exchange you had with Chucky. You never wanted to see him leave.

You took advantage of Chucky’s absence to set your plan in motion. You slipped off to the bathroom. It was tight quarters, which was the thing you hated most about the clubhouse, but you could make it work. You locked the door and set your phone up to record yourself. You set the phone on the one shelf in the bathroom that held a couple extra rolls of toilet paper, and then perched yourself up on the sink counter, feet resting on the closed toilet lid, making sure the camera got just enough of an upward angle to see clearly up your skirt. You dug around in your purse for a moment, smiling evilly to yourself as your fingers landed on your small bullet vibrator. You tossed your purse to the floor and hit the self-timer on your phone to start recording.

The bathroom and clubhouse were both silent. You smirked into the camera before making a show of slowly hiking up your skirt, exposing the small piece of pink fabric that was passing for your underwear. You turned on the vibrator, the sound seeming so loud against the silence of the small room that you were in.

You lowered it, lightly tracing it over the outside of your panties, gasping at the initial contact. Your body instinctively moved to grind against the vibrator, letting out a low moan. You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out for very long—you hadn’t been touched by Angel or yourself in ten days and your body was screaming for a little bit of release.

You turned the intensity up on the vibrator, letting out a raspy, “Fuck,” as your body began to tremble. Your panties darkened and dampened from your arousal, and it was taking every last bit of self-control to not let yourself come right then. You bit down hard on your lip, “Mmm,” you threw your head back, “fuck, Angel, I miss you.”

It had only been a couple minutes but you knew you were going to have to tap out. You looked straight into the camera as you pulled your panties to the side, “Too bad I’ll have to cum without you,” you slid the vibrator inside of you and moaned loudly.

What started off as a tease for Angel vey quickly turned into some overdue relief for yourself. Between the feeling of you pumped the vibrator in and out, and the vibrations themselves, it was only a matter of moments before your eyes were rolling back in anticipation of your orgasm. You fought the urge to scream as your core tightened, legs locking up as your body finally got a sweet sense of release. You felt light-headed as you turned the vibrator off, trying to catch your breath as you slowly pulled it out of you.

You looked back into the camera, repositioning your underwear and sliding the vibrator in and out of your mouth, tasting yourself. You leaned forward with a satisfied smirk, “I’ll see you soon, Amor,” stopping the video.

Before watching it and sending it, you wanted to straighten yourself out first. You hopped down, fixing your skirt and checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still okay. You washed off your vibrator, putting it back in your purse with a chuckle. You grabbed your phone and left the bathroom, no one would ever know you were in there.

You took a seat at the bar, and after a quick rewatch of the video to make sure he would be able to hear you, you set about sending a text to Angel. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, “Since you haven’t been around to take care of business, I had to do it myself xo” you attached the video and sent it on its way. Your whole body was trembling for more than one reason now as you anxiously awaited an answer.

About five minutes later your phone buzzed, a notification for a text from Angel appeared on your screen. Your hands shook as you opened it, wondering what you were getting yourself into, “Better make sure those panties are off by the time I get home if you want me to fucking take care of business”

You let out a shudder, but didn’t respond to him. It’d be more fun this way. In the meantime, Chucky returned and the two of you got the place set up for everyone’s return. There wasn’t a whole lot to be done, but between the two of them it all got finished rather quickly.

Another hour or so ticked by, and more people had filtered in to be part of the action once everyone was home again. The music was on and people were already drinking, but you were scrolling through your phone when you heard the deafening sounds of the whole club arriving back at the clubhouse. You tossed your phone in your purse, placing the bag behind the bar where it wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle. You stood up, straightening yourself out before the guys all walked in.

Everyone was all smiles as they crossed the threshold of the clubhouse. You greeted all of them with smiles and hugs. You had caught Angel lingering at the back of the pack and you were wondering if that was calculated or not.

You stepped over to him to give him a hug and a kiss, but didn’t even get the chance. He spun you around and began firmly guiding you across the expanse of the clubhouse, “Bathroom, now,” he growled. Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from those two words.

He pushed you into the small room, closing and locking the door behind the both of you. You laughed, “Not even a hello?”

“Yea, you think you’re real fuckin’ funny, don’t you?” he backed you up against the sink counter. He had at least a foot on you, a height gap you usually tried to close with heels. You craned your neck back to look him in the eye. His expression read as angry but you could see the look in his eyes—he had been fighting the urge to take you right in the middle of the clubhouse. His hand crept around your throat and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, “You think I can’t take care of you?”

Your knees were already weak, but you weren’t going to give in that easily, “You certainly haven’t been.”

His grip on your neck tightened, “Better watch that fuckin’ mouth, Y/N, it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you smirked at him, loving every second of this game.

He let go of your neck, using both hands to yank your skirt up and heft you up onto the counter. The speed and ease with which he was able to toss you around never ceased to amaze you, and turn you on. His hands strayed down to your now-exposed hips. His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of your underwear. “What’d I say about these?” he leaned in and growled into your ear.

Before you could respond he ripped them off, tossing them to the side, causing you to gasp. You reached for his belt but he grabbed your wrists, able to hold them both tightly with one hand. He leaned in, taking in your scent as his other hand cupped your face. The feeling of his beard against your neck made you break out in goosebumps. He kissed and sucked on your earlobe for a moment before asking, “You want me to take care of you, Princesa?”

You knew you were in for it when he started calling you that—that pet name was reserved for when you were being especially bratty. “Yes,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

Without another word he dropped to his knees, pulling you close to him by your hips. You braced yourself on the counter, whimpering in anticipation. His breath was warm against your thighs and core. You gripped his shoulders, pushing him into you. He let out what you assumed was a laugh as he pressed his tongue and lips against you. You moaned, nails digging into him as his tongue repeatedly went over your clit.

“Make me cum, Angel,” you begged.

He reached up, sliding two fingers into your mouth. You moaned, wetting them for him. He brought his hand back down, sliding his fingers in and out of you as his tongue continued to work you over. Your cries grew louder, and there was no doubt that the clubhouse was hearing you call his name, and Angel loved it. He slowly rose to his feet, still pumping his fingers into you. He pressed his lips hard onto yours, stifling your moans with a kiss for a moment before straying to your neck and leaving marks there for the rest of the world to see.

“Cum for me,” it was an order, and one that you were happy to oblige to. You gripped the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a heated kiss as you came.

“I love you, Angel,” you were trying to catch your breath still.

“Mmm, I love you too, Y/N, but we’re not done yet.”

“You said you wanted me to take care of business,” his hand was back at your throat, “We’re only halfway there. You still gotta pay up for that little stunt earlier, you know.”

He let go of your neck, guiding your hands to his belt buckle. You were still seated on the counter, hands shaky from everything you just experienced. You fumbled for a moment but were able to get the belt undone. You also undid the button and zipper on his jeans, nearly salivating as you tugged them down slightly. You lightly traced his erection through his boxers, causing him to gasp.

He pulled you off of the counter and spun you around so you were bent over it instead. He leaned close to your ear, “Enough teasing from you.”

You heard the sound of his jeans and boxers hitting the floor around his ankles. He lightly traced his fingers between your legs, your pussy still dripping. He let out a low chuckle as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your breathing wavered in anticipation. He slowly started to push into you, both of you letting out moans of pleasure.

He started thrusting into you slowly, pulling out almost all the way before filling you up again. You could hear him cursing under his breath about how good you felt, and it made your knees weak. The slow pace was torturous but you loved it.

Then, just as you were adjusting to the pace, he slammed into you. You yelped in surprise and he quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, applying pressure. “This is what you wanted, right?” he grunted as he continued fucking you over the counter, “Isn’t that right, Princesa? You wanted me to come home and take care of business?”

He let go of your throat and you coughed, trying to catch your breath. You were lightheaded from a mixture of the overstimulation of him fucking you and also the lack of blood that was getting to your brain while his hand was around your neck. Your hands gripped the edges of the counter as his fingertips dug into your hips, pulling you back against him over and over. His hold on you was the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor.

He smacked your ass, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” it was half-whisper, half-moan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was raspy, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

You felt his grip tighten even more as he continued to pound you. He let out a moan as he came inside you, making your knees finally give way. He was able to brace and keep you somewhat upright. He let out a chuckle as he pulled out of you, lifting you so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. You sank back against him with a shaky sigh.

“Is ten days too long, Y/N?” he whispered in your ear. All you could do was nod in response, earning another laugh from him. He spun you around and kissed you hard on the lips before letting go of you and pulling his pants back up. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh and between your legs, “Better clean yourself up, Amor. We still have a party to go to.”

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate the way you drive my car

So, we’re ignoring the fact that it’s 4 am but here I am with the second part of 10 things I hate about you. Ignore typos, I’ll fix them at some point (maybe ?).

Also, this might be a little bit of, like, soft smut???? Unsure, but hey, stuff happens. I don’t know if this actually counts.

NOTE: the line about being ‘a pop-up book from hell’ I’m pretty sure that line is from Gilmore Girls that I used in here (I changed it a bit but still gotta give credit)

I hope you like it!

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

__________________________

“Because we both know that’s not true.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

----------

“I need to ask you a huge favor,” you hear him say on the other end of the call as you’re pacing around your apartment out of boredom. 

You groan, knowing that nothing good could come of him asking you for something at ten am on a Saturday. “No.”

“You don’t even know what it is!” he whines on the other end.

“But I know you and know that it’s probably not something I’m going to like if you have to call and ask me.”

“Can you at least hear what I need before you make a decision?” Matthew huffs, clearly a little bothered by the fact that you were dismissing him before giving him a chance. 

You can’t help but laugh imagining the pout he has on his face, the one he would be giving you in person that always, without fail, made you say yes to whatever he was asking of you. But you weren’t in person, so instead of conceding, you tease him with, “Hard maybe, but you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”

“I need to borrow your car.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not!” he whines again. You can hear him mumbling to himself about what other options he could think that he had, knowing that he had none as it was if you were the one he was calling.

“Why do you need my car? Where’s yours?” 

“We need alcohol and all the boys are busy. And my car is in the shop, the brakes were being a bitch. I didn’t want them to crap out on me when I need to make a sudden stop or something.”

“Yeah, because we both know you’re good at stopping even with good brakes,” you tease.

You hear him laugh on the other end, so strong and genuine that hearing him made you stop and smile for a moment. “What can I say, I pull out all the stops. And yet, I can never use them to get you in bed.” He closes his eyes, thankful that you couldn’t see him regretting saying something that stupid to you. If he kept up this shit with you, you would have a list of way more than ten things that you hated about him. “But, please, can I borrow your car?” You stop for a moment to think, really not wanting to hand over your keys to him. “Your silence means no?”

“You live two blocks from a liquor store. Are you fucking joking?” you let out.

“I never joke about fucking, especially with you,” he says, forcing you to roll your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. He really did mean it, no matter how oblivious you were to that fact. “But that one doesn’t have what we want and the nearest one that has our shit is too far to walk to.” 

“I do not trust you to drive my car,” you tell him, hearing the line go dead. You pull the phone away from your ear to see that he was trying to switch to Facetime, probably to wear you down with his stupid pout that always made you say yes. “There is no way I am letting you drive my car.” 

“Y/N, I am begging. I will do anything.” He juts out his lip, batting his eyes at you in hopes of convincing you.

“I’ll drive you there.”

“I feel like I’m two seconds from death every time I get in a car with you behind the wheel.” 

“Order an Uber.”

“But you’re cheaper!” 

Your jaw drops as you can’t help but scoff at what he just said. He can’t really think that saying something like that to you would work. He didn’t mean it like that, just that it was easier to buy you a bottle of wine than pay for the Uber there, back and the tip. But he wasn’t thinking about that enough to fully explain. You study the background behind him, clearly walking into a familiar building, not quite able to make out why you knew the building based on the angle he held the camera. “Wait, where are you?” 

“Bye!” he says, hanging up on you immediately without you being able to get an answer.

“Evie!” you yell, clearly frustrated with Matthew’s antics. You wait to hear her open her door, praying that she was awake. “Evelina!” you screech again.

You hear her door open and slam shut, her bare feet hitting the tile of the floor in the hallway as she makes her way to you, “If you go any higher, only dogs will hear you. Why are you waking me up?”

“I have another thing to add to the list.”

She groans, closing her eyes and dropping her head back as her eyes followed to the ceiling. “You know how to write. The list is literally on the fridge. This is not something you needed me for.”

“Well, Miss ‘They have to be legitimate reasons,’” you mock her voice, “I had to make sure it was a real reason by your standards.”

“What else could you hate about Matthew?”

“I hate when he drives my car.” 

“When the fuck does he do that?” 

“When I asked her if I could get alcohol from the store on the other side of the city,” you hear Matthew’s voice behind you, causing both of you to jump. 

“Jesus, you’re like the pop-up book from Hell. How the fuck did you get in here? The door was locked!” 

“Evelina gave me a key,” he says, waving his key ring in the air as if you could tell which one he was referring to in the mess of keys.

You turn back to Evelina, your mouth open, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. Everything about your expression said, ‘what the hell?’ without verbally saying it. She shrugs, obviously still groggy from being woken up by your screaming. “He’s here all the time and you always happen to be busy when he’s knocking at the door. It was the third key our landlord gave us, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You open and close your mouth like a fish, unable to figure out what to say. Of all the people she could give the spare key to Matthew of all people. 

“So why do you hate when I drive your car?” Matthew cuts the silence out. 

“Well if it’s anything like the way you skate, then I don’t think I want to see it.” 

“I said I would do anything!” he whines, Evelina groans, leaving the two of you to head to the kitchen, presumably to write the new thing on the list. 

“And what does that entail?”

“I would prefer something in the bedroom,” he flirts, earning another eye roll from you.

“How about you start by getting my bag from my bedroom and then we’ll go,” you say, waving him off and practically running to the kitchen to find Evelina. “Matthew doesn’t know about the list, right?”

Evelina looks at you, hesitating to answer. Something tells her that him knowing the entire plan wouldn’t bode well with you. “Did you tell him about it?”

“No.”

“Then, no,” she lies. “And the car thing doesn’t count. You’ve never had him drive your car before. Plus, why would him knowing be a bad thing?”

“Because you know him. He’s just gonna flirt with me and try to make me forget that I hate him. You know I’m a sucker for a sweet guy.”

She looks at you for a moment, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Ok, I’m going to list all the reasons why you’re wrong, and then I’m going back to bed because I don’t want to deal with you anymore.” You roll your eyes at her, something you had already done a lot today, yet still feel the need to keep doing. “So, one. I really do not know him that well, all I know is that he’s clearly in love with you. Plus, I’m closer with Elias, remember? Two. You clearly do not know what flirting is because you two flirt with each other all the time. Every day. Every minute. It’s annoying. Three. You have a very specific type, and sweet isn’t always a given. I know you have dated three guys, and all three of them were hockey players who always got in fights, had curly hair, really nice eyes, and are always someone pest-like. Does that sound like anyone?”

“None of that is true.”

“All of that is true,” she counters, leading to the two of you going back and forth, bickering about the validity of her three point list. 

“Hey, is this it?” Matthew interrupts the two of you, holding up your bag.

“Yes, let’s go,” you say, taking the bag from him and pushing him out the door. “You head down and start up my car, the keys are by the door, Evelina just needs to finish the list first.” You swear you see his eyes go wide and look at your roommate before he darts out the front door. You could have meant the list of alcohol she wanted. Evelina wouldn’t lie to you about him knowing about the hate list. “You’re wrong,” you tell Evelina.

She throws her hands in the air, walking back to her room,  “Don’t bother me unless you finally realize you love him or you can actually add ‘the way he drives my car’ to your list.”

“I hate you,” you call to her in a sing-songy voice.

“Love you, too,” you hear her reply, closing her door. 

You go down to your car, hearing it before seeing it in your spot since Matthew had already turned the volume on your radio up louder than you ever wanted it to go. Your hand reaches for the volume button before you even put the seatbelt on, muting the music to tell him, “There is absolutely no way you’re listening to the music this loud. How can you hear yourself think?” 

“I’m honestly surprised you even believe I think. But did Ev give you her list?” 

“No, she left it on the fridge,” you say, without thinking.

“The fridge?”

You hesitate, not wanting to tell him about the list. You hated more things about him than you liked, so why did you have to keep reminding yourself about that? And why was it so hard to come up with things to put on there. “It was the grocery list, she’s buying the stuff after her nap and needed to know what I wanted for food,” you lie, hoping he would buy it. 

“Is whipped cream on the list?” he asks, pulling out of the garage. The smirk on his face tells you that you shouldn’t ask to elaborate whatever thought was running through his mind, but you couldn’t help but ask anyway. “So you can spray it all over me and lick it off.” 

“You’d have to clean up my vomit right after,” you joke, hearing his laugh again. “Who’s to say that I wouldn’t want you licking it off me, instead?” you flirt back, knowing it would get something out of him.

Hearing you say that makes him stop breathing for a moment, letting his mind wander to the image of that scene. His entire body tenses up thinking about it, only to be snapped out by you yelling, “Brake, brake, Matthew, brake!” He slams on the brakes of your car, narrowly avoiding rear ending the person in front of you. “This is why your brakes are crapping out!” you squeal, eyes wide with fury at his nonattention to the road in front of him. “I’m driving home, you are not allowed to drive my car back.” 

“Calm down, are you dead?”

“I just died a little on the inside.” 

The smirk from before returns to his face, “We both know you die a little every time we go to work, I’m just helping move that along.” Still at the red light, he takes his eyes off the road to look at you, the smirk turning into a soft smile.

You can’t help but bite part of your bottom lip, the rest of your lips forming a smile. His eyes flick between yours and your lips, knowing that he wanted to kiss you. You tear your eyes away to look at the road, fully aware of his eyes still on you, “Green light.” 

The two of you drive the rest of the way in silence. Was that some sort of moment between the two of you? If he hadn’t been driving, would he have kissed you? And would you have let him? 

No, you wouldn’t kiss your best friend. Nothing would make you want to kiss him. You take out your phone, pulling up your conversation with Evelina. ‘Add the way he drives my car to the list. Or the way he drives in general. I don’t care.’ You sigh, hesitating before hitting send.

“You ok?” you hear Matthew say, hitting send before you can decide not to as you pull into the parking lot of the liquor store.

“Oh, yeah. My boss is just asking me some stuff about one of my projects at work,” you lie to him. Evelina responds, just with an eye roll emoji.  

“Alright,” Matthew says, leading you into the liquor store, “Get something for you and something for Evelina and I’ll pay for it.” 

You just nod, both of you giving an awkward smile to the other as you went your separate ways in the store. Evelina needed another bottle of her favorite wine, but you had no idea what you wanted. You eventually find yourself looking at a bottle of wine with Snoop Dogg on the label, of all people. “What’s that?” Matthew startles you, causing you to almost drop the bottle right on the ground.

“This wine brand called 19 Crimes,” you say, showing him the bottle, “Snoop Dogg is a partner in the company.”

“19 Crimes? Is that how many we’re going to commit in the bedroom our first time,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You smile and roll your eyes at him. “It’s a reference to British and Australian history, Matthew,” you tell him, admittedly leaning in a little to his touch. 

“Ok?”

“So starting in the 1780s or 90s, Britain, instead of killing their convicts, would send them to Australia as punishment. If you committed one of 19 Crimes, you would be sent there, starting a colony of criminals and eventually turning into the down under we know and love today.” 

“What are the 19 crimes?” He asks, leading you through the store.

“The first is grand larceny, or theft above the value of one shilling.” 

His hand moves from your waist into your back pocket, your breath hitching slightly at his touch. “Keep going,” he whispers into your air, still leading you around the store. 

“The second: petty larceny, which is theft under one shilling.” You feel his fingers start to tense up in your pocket, sending a shiver down your spine as his touch became more intimate. Without waiting, you keep going, “The third was buying or receiving stolen goods.”

He pulls you closer to him, tightening the grip he has on you as he starts to grab bottles from the shelves with his free hand and put them into the cart he was pushing. “What’s the fourth?”

“Stealing, buying, or receiving lead, iron or copper.” 

“Seems weird,” he notes.

“The fifth will really get you: impersonating an Egyptian.”  

He laughs a low laugh, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Weirdly specific, but keep telling me more.” You could be telling him anything right now, and he would probably be going just as crazy as he was now. Keeping you slightly in front of him, he was glad he couldn’t see how red in the face he was getting from the history you were telling him.

“Six would be stealing from furnished lodgings, so anything stamped with the London County Council seal would send you to Australia. Seven was setting fire to underwood, which is undergrowth in a forest.” You were doing everything in your power to restrain yourself, your hand taking his from your back pocket and moving it back around to the front of you. His fingers find their way into your front pocket, settling on your hip bone as his thumb hooks onto your belt loop.

“Eight,” you keep going before he can say anything else, feeling his gaze on you as you try to ignore the tightening grip, “is stealing letters, advancing the postage, and secreting the money, which is robbing the post office of mail. The ninth was assaulting with an intent to rob.”

You realize Matthew had led you to the back corner of the store, secluded from the other customers. Behind the stake of boxes and the shelves of bottles that surrounded you, no one could see you. Everything he was doing, you would have the same reaction to any boy, you tell yourself. It’s not because it’s Matthew, it’s because he’s just a guy. 

“Number ten?” he whispers in your ear, turning you so that you face him.

“Number ten is stealing fish from a pond or river,” you let out, his hands on your waist as he pulls you close to him. He presses his forehead against yours, your hands on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, almost in sync with yours as you keep going. “Similarly, 11 was stealing or destroying roots, trees or plants.”

“Eight more,” he says, kissing your forehead. 

Your eyes flutter closed, knowing that looking at him would only make this worse for you. “Because of the divorce laws that were in place, number 12 was common: bigamy, the act of marriage while already in another marriage.” He places another kiss on your forehead, his hands on the small of your back to pull him even closer to you, allowing you to feel everything he felt. 

“13 was assaulting, cutting or burning clothing. 14: counterfeiting the copper coin.” His kisses start to trail down the side of your face, tracing your jaw bone as you continue, “Clandestine, or secret marriage was 15.”

“I love that you know this. Four more,” you hear him say, kissing your collar bone as you try to stifle the moan that escaped from your lips anyway, praying that no one saw you two doing this. 

Your eyes still closed, you continue, “Stealing a shroud out of a grave was 16. 17: watermen carrying too many passengers on the Thames, if any drowned.”

You let out another involuntary groan before he pulls away, a low chuckle escaping his lips as his forehead is once again pressed on yours. You open your eyes to see his blue ones staring straight into your soul. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as he whispered, “I think it’s pronounced ‘Tems,’ babe.”

A grin on your face, knowing he was right, “Where I’m from, we say it phonetically.” His eyes flicked between yours and your lips, just like they did in your car earlier. “18 was incorrigible rogues, people who had already been convicted as a rogue or vagabond and resists arrest, who broke out of prison and person reprieved from capital punishment.” 

“What’s the last one?” he whispers again, his lips nearly ghosting yours.

“The nineteenth and final crime that would get a British convict sent to Australia was embeuling naval stores, or stealing naval supplies, in certain cases.”

His lips hovering against yours, not quite touching but close enough to be begging to connect. “In certain cases, would you want this?” 

You knew what he was referring to. Did he actually want this? You were trying to convince yourself that he didn’t, but it was hard to believe that. “Matthew. We...” you hesitate, denying that fact that you wanted to. It wasn’t because it was Matthew, you would be this way with any boy. “We can’t.” 

He exhales, pulling away from you. “Ok,” he says, a weak smile. He takes your hand, pushing the cart with the other towards the front of the store. You drop his hand, reaching for your phone to text Evelina.

‘I hate the way he teases me,’ you send her, not wanting to give her any more context. Ignoring the vibration that meant she was responding to you, you watch Matthew as he checks out the copious amount of alcohol that he had gotten for the guys. He bites his bottom lip as he pays, his chest now steadily moving up and down as his breath had calmed down from before. 

‘This list has to work for me,’ he thinks to himself. He couldn’t let something like that happen again. He couldn’t let you think of ten things. He didn’t even know how close you were to being done. 

The two of you get back into your car, the haul almost completely filling up your trunk. You hadn’t said a word to each other, but you did need to know how Matthew had planned on getting everything back to his place.

With Matthew in the driver's seat, you feel like you need to apologize. As much as you hate to admit it, you were definitely feeling something because of Matthew. Was it because it was specifically Matthew? No, no, it was just... you didn’t know. Something. But, did that just change anything between you? 

“Hey, Y/N?” Matthew snaps you out of your thoughts and back to reality. 

“Yeah?”

“Why did you know all that?” 

“We talked about the English colonization of Australia very briefly when I was in high school, but we never went in depth with it. Then I saw this video of a news report in Australia where a woman had submitted a comment saying that if they didn’t like having all the criminals in their country, they should just find another island to send them to. The news casters were laughing so hard saying that that was how Australia was pretty much founded. So I looked into what it took for Britain to send their convicts to Australia. I guess I liked it so much that I just memorized the list? I don’t know, it’s dumb,” you discount yourself. “Sometimes I feel like people forget that I’m actually a little intelligent.” 

“I think you’re more than a little intelligent; you’re the smartest person I know.” He turns onto his street, you finally realizing that he had driven to his place to make it easier to bring everything up. “I love y-” he starts, realizing he can’t say what he wants to, “I love that you know so much.” 

You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, getting out of the car to help him carry everything up to his place. You do so in silence, needing two trips to your car to get his haul into his apartment. “I’ll see you later?” he asks, once it’s all in. After that, he couldn’t stay in the same room as you, knowing that he would want to do so much more than what had happened in the store. 

“Yeah, see ya,” you say, going out the door. You shut it behind you, leaning your back against it. You close your eyes, head touching the cold wood. You needed to finish that list as fast as possible. Seven more things before it was complete. “Fuck.”

[subtleappreciation]

Here’s a continuation of my convo with @ryanssance​ about dreams. If you want to read the first part you can find it here. 

Okay the reason I think Tim won’t be able to dream is because of his insomnia.

Night after night of staying awake to finish cases, training, homework, or patrol, his sleeping patterns were bound to change.

Even on good days where he can sleep early, it does little to help his sleep cycle and dream stage.

He’s tossing and turning all night, body now used to sleeping throughout the day and staying awake all night.

He’s nocturnal like an owl which probably started his affinity for coffee or any form of caffeine to be honest.

Perhaps he isn’t able to dream because he never reaches REM or “deep-sleep”, or maybe he does but he absolutely cannot recall any part of it because his body is too focused on trying to fix him up in other ways.

But what if he can’t dream because he doesn’t want to?

For the same reason as to why he probably drinks coffee when he knows he can sleep.

For the way he drives himself to the ground so he can’t go into a deep sleep.

Maybe when he dreams, he has good dreams like Jason! But that’s the point. He just doesn’t want to. He can’t. The pain for him to wake up and realize that his family, his friends, and Conner are all gone.

That the ones that are here just doesn’t measure up to the people that he lost. To be happy and free of all his pain that he feels every damn day.

In a way it makes him feel guilty because he knows that the more he dreams, the more he won’t want to come back and face his true reality. It’s the idea of being distant and growing accustomed to something you know you cannot have in reality—think Inception, the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Elliot Page.

With the amount of power and money that he has, he can easily buy his way to dream forever. To drug himself to the land of no return just to buy himself the very happiness he oh-so-desperately wants.

He wants to dream but he just can’t. He won’t. Not for just his sake but for the sake of his family, friends, and he’ll even do it for the sake of Gotham. 

In turn, Tim copes with his nightmares by using a creative outlet like photography.

If he really can’t sleep, he’ll sneak out of the manor with a mug filled with coffee and his camera bag.

He loves going on long drives without a real destination in mind, but he doesn’t care.

Tim’s cruising around listening to his favorite music while finding a good spot to take pictures.

If he’s driving around Gotham, he’ll pick up Jason. Jason knows every hidden corner in Gotham that even someone like Tim who had lived in Gotham his whole life would never know about (plus we all want some more bonding moments)

Tim has a sharp eye when it comes to photography. He can tell a whole story from one single photo; bringing out the smallest of details in the most common area of Gotham.

He loves the challenge of taking a “good” photo. He’s able to express his creativity by manipulating the lighting, perspective, and composition of the subject at hand.

Trying new techniques while using different types of cameras, lenses, or film stocks just keeps his mind occupied and away from the darker rooms.

He’ll even take pictures of Jason. Although Jason is very into his bad boy looks, he is secretly insecure about his appearance; normally objecting to having his photo taken, but when Tim asked if he could take a picture of him—face puffy from crying during the car ride over—he can’t help but say yes. With a slight smile, Tim would take pictures of Jason in various poses and angles.

Despite wanting to cringe at every imperfection he could point out about himself, Jason could see the talent in Tim’s work, the angle and the lighting masking just about everything Jason would usually dislike.

Jason and Tim might not get along that well, but they would always be there for each other. They would have deep talks about what their dreams mean and comfort each other when talking about their nightmares.

If Jason is on patrol or asleep for once, Tim will immediately run to Alfred.

He feels embarrassed for bothering Alfred, but no one else can give him comfort like the way Pennyworth can.

Alfred is perfect, he knows exactly how to comfort Tim based on his feelings.

If Tim comes into his room crying and panting, he will hug him and rock him slightly until Tim can breathe and settle down.

If Tim comes in with a dead set of eyes, he will take him to the kitchen and make him some tea and cookies after offering the boy a huge glass of water.

If Tim comes in looking scared and has sweat stains on his shirt, he’ll take him on a walk along the manor grounds while humming a tune.

Alfred never pushes him to talk unless he’s ready. When Tim is ready to talk, he listens and reassures him that no matter what happened in his dreams or nightmares, they are not a reflection of his faults or doings.

Thank you for reading!! :D Hope y’all enjoy!

[getitinbusan]

CAM BUNNY TWO - SMUT

Part ONE Here

"Baby I'm so bored." 

You set your book face down to hold it's space, it was the 4th time he'd interrupted you.

"Why aren't you working on your mixtape, you need to get it done Guk." 

His fingers walked up your bare leg and stopped at the hem of your shorts. 

"I need inspiration," he whined while climbing on top of you. 

Tucking his head into your neck he trailed kisses down your collar bone, "and I'm horny."

You giggled while pushing his head, trying to keep him at bay but it only made him try harder. 

"I'd wager a bet that in the last 2 months you've had more sex than in your entire life." 

He smiled devilishly, "It's not my fault you feel so good."

He picked up the new vibrator that had been delivered earlier, "Plus, how am I supposed to focus with all this stuff around." 

"You want me to use it on you? We can show..." you picked up the card, "DaddyDong69 his gift in action." 

Jungkook laughed, "I can't believe men send you these things. Do you think they'd still watch if they knew you had a boyfriend?" 

You playfully bit the tip of the silicone, "Wanna find out?" 

Hoseok quickly walked back to his room from the dance studio. Lately he'd been experiencing an unusual but not necessarily unwelcome side effect of his long practice sessions.

It took  about 10 minutes to hit, his work outs had been increasing his testosterone levels, making his blood pump straight to his cock.

Turning the handle and locking the door behind him, he immediately tugged his pants down. Laptop and moisturizer conveniently at the ready he woke up the screen with the pad of his finger. 

He shouldn't be on here but he couldn't help himself, the CAMBUNNY site had been bookmarked for the last few months and he'd become a regular.

Jungkook didn't have to know, you didn't have to know. As long as he stayed on the screen chat what did it hurt? 

Your light was off, damn, what a waste of an erection.

Scrolling through pictures, he could get off to someone else, but it wouldn't be the same. Suddenly like you knew he was waiting, your availability turned on. 

_______________

"You wanted to play Kookie, so we're going to play."

His eyes looked innocent and naive, two things he definitely wasn't. "Don't worry, I'll protect your secret identity."

You winked and threw the latex suit at him "Go put this on." 

Getting everything set up you flicked your room to open. 

Jungkook stood over you, "Why does everyone use weird names? What's an Angma-J?"

You laughed at him, "Well TOKKI...an Angma is a devilish fiend. A mischievous person who is extremely addicted to some pernicious habit, and in this case, I'm going to guess that it's porn." 

"Hmm," he repeated the word for practice, "pernicious...Is he a regular?"

"Yeah, he's been around a while, seems harmless enough. Want me to ask?" 

He slid the mask over his head, "Let's do it!" 

________________

"Hey baby," you spoke into the camera. "I was wondering if you'd like to watch something new tonight?"

Angma-J: What are you thinking? I'm so hard for you. 

I thought maybe you'd like to watch me get fucked by a real cock."

You pulled Jungkook and his shiny suit into the frame.

"You can pretend it's you in there...you inside me, you making me moan...what do you say?" 

Nothing, silence...you waited. Jungkook clicked mute, "Y/N, he's not going to do it, I'm telling you." 

"He will so you'd better shut up and remember not to use our names." 

________________

Was he really going to do it? Was he so sexually deprived that he'd sit here and watch you and Jungkook fuck while he masturbted?

He hit the keys one at a time…. words began appearing on the screen….

Angma-J: Fuck yes.

_______________

You gave a quick wink to the camera and pulled your shirt off leaving Jungkook dumbfounded.

He had been 100% positive that Angma-J was going to bail and that he'd just get to fuck you while wearing the suit. 

He was frozen, you needed to fix this.

Leaning close to the camera, tits filling the screen you blocked the view of the room. Hitting mute you turned your head to look at him. "Guk, baby, are you scared?" 

"Not scared, I just don't know how to start…"

"I want you to show him I'm yours okay? Show him that real men get to fuck real women and not just their hands."

"Okay."

"Come stand behind me and play with my tits."

Unmuting and backing away from the camera his gloved hands wrapped around your chest and firmly gave your nipples a tug.

His touch turned them hard and he couldn't resist lowering his head to take a long suck. The open zipper mouth of his mask dragged cool and sharp across your flesh in contrast to his hot tongue on your bulleted tips. 

He looked up at you, his eyes weren't sparkly and playful as usual, they were dark and dangerous.

He brought his mouth to yours, teasing, coaxing your tongue to meet his. Grabbing your breast he held up your nipple in the space between you, both your tongues darting over it and each other. 

"Lay back," he commanded.

Moving to pull him back with you he caught both your hands. His one large hand easily secured both your arms above your head.

He smirked while angling the camera between your legs, "Don't you love looking at this pretty cunt?" 

_________________

Hope could barely believe what he was seeing. He was so jealous that Jungkook got to fuck you whenever he wanted. 

He looked down at his weeping cock wishing he could just put it in you. 

Angma -J: put your fingers in her and fuck her with them …. rough.

________________

Jungkook looked at you, it was strange yet exciting to let someone else call the shots.

While he was apprehensive to proceed without your consent, he had also watched you before, and felt he knew your limits.

He held his fingers up to the camera and smiled before he plunged them two deep inside you without warning. 

His hand thrust hard, you were sure you'd be bruised from his knuckles in the morning. 

Still confining your hands, you were at his mercy. Bringing his mouth back to your chest he bit your nipple and tugged it between his teeth. 

"Fuck…" you almost said his name but caught yourself.

He laughed, "Fuck what baby? Does your tiny pussy hurt from my fingers?" He looked back at the camera, "should I give her another?"

________________

Hope shifted in his seat, cock in hand stroking the tip slowly.

He was trying not to be over eager, he wanted this to last. He'd tuned into you a few times but fuck, something about watching Jungkook use you made it 100 times better.

Angma -J: Tell me how she tastes

_______________

The question triggered him, the look he had on his face was predatory. Being allowed to let his perversions come out while in disguise felt so good.

He let go of your hands and dropped to his knees. Spreading your wet lips apart he smiled directly into the camera before taking a big lick. 

"So fucking good, like a tart juicy apple. You know when you take a hug bite and it gets all over your chin..fuck, just like that. 

He worked his mouth around your clit, circling it, sucking it, teasing it until your excitement was dripping. 

Using his tongue he gathered up your milky discharge and held it out for Angma-J to envy.

Making a show of swallowing it Jungkook moaned, "Hot apple pie." 

________________

He almost came right then and there. He had to look away from the screen before he blew his load.

Angma-J: Make her suck you off

_______________

You swear you'd never seen Jungkook this happy about anything.

He stood up over you with a crooked grin, "We both want my cock in your mouth."

Standing up you let your hands travel over the black vinyl suit. It hugged every curve, accentuated every muscle as his hard cock strained against it looking for release. 

You got on your knees and licked the outline of his tip while looking into the camera.

The zipper ran from bottom to top, starting at the base of his cock to just below his belly button. You opened it slowly and only enough to remove his balls.

His delicate flesh laying against the suit made a strong contrast for the camera. He let his head fall to watch while you sucked them into your mouth, one at a time, back and forth. 

"You want more, baby?"

Jungkook nodded as you worked the zipper higher. His full hard length sprang out demanding attention from your mouth. 

You put your hands behind your back so your viewer could see everything.

Just sucking his tip, Jungkook got whiney, not getting the full sensation he was after.

"That's not enough, I know you can take my whole cock." 

You smiled and flicked his tip with your tongue, "make me."

Grabbing a fist full of hair he pulled your head back, "Open wide for Appa." 

He slid his cock into your mouth slowly the first few times letting your throat relax then faster and deeper.

Holding your head stationary he fucked himself into your throat. Gagging around him, drool spilled from your mouth down your tits. Unclasping your hands from behind you, you rubbed the liquid over your breasts.

Lubricating your nipples you scissor pinched them between your fingertips. 

_______________

Angma-J: I want to see her pink pussy get off on the suit. Thigh ride? 

_______________

Jungkook groaned, "But i'm not done." 

"Too bad babe, you've gotta do what the customer wants and the customer wants to watch me get off."

You smiled playfully at the lens and switched to the bed camera.

"I think we can give you a good view from here." 

You patted the bed for Jungkook to lay down and grabbed a bottle of lube from the bedside table.

Holding it high in the air you let a stream fall slowly over his leg, fuck this was going to feel good. 

Straddling his thigh you let your sex slide across him. The slick of the wet vinyl dragging across your clit was almost too much sensation to handle.

Jungkook and J-Hope both stroked themselves in time with your motions as you humped Kookies leg.

Hobi leaned into the screen, your opening was glimmering with wetness and he could see you beginning to clench.

Crying out, Jungkook grabbed your hips and helped you move through your climax. The thick strings of your release clung between you and the suit, a white trail sticking to the material. 

Both men were becoming desperate to cum. 

"How should I finish her?"

______________

Angma-J: "In her ass, I bet she really likes that"

______________

"Do you like that baby? Do you like taking my cock in your ass?"

In show of approval you spread your ass cheeks apart.

Running his fingers over your cunt he gathered the excess slick and pushed it into your anus making you moan. 

He looked at the Camera, always the showman, "Are you ready?" 

He slapped your bottom, and pressed his tip at your entrance. Pushing nice and slow he meweled, "I love fucking this ass." 

Sitting back on his knees he held your hips guiding you to thrust yourself onto him.

He liked it like this, he was always afraid he'd go too deep or too hard but like this, you were in control. You weren't afraid, you loved every stroke, feeling him deep inside you. 

He was breathing heavy...

Hope was clutching his cock ready to explode....

"Tell me I'm being a good girl."

"So fucking good." J hope moaned to the screen.

"Tell me how badly you want to cum into me."

"I want to watch it drip out of you baby," Kookie purred.

As you sank back he grabbed your waist and held you still while ejaculating into you with a grunt.

Pulling his cock out you backed into the camera.

J-Hope finished himself while watching Jungkook's cum ooze out of you and down your leg. 

Turning off the feed you collapsed beside your boyfriend.

Pulling his mask off, you kissed him passionately.

"I missed your face...and your body. Let's get you out of this suit." 

Showered and napped, he headed back to the dorms around dinner time. Most of the guys were already eating in the common kitchen.

Jungkook opened the fridge, there had to be at least 5 pies in there.

He looked at the others, "who the hell ordered all these?"

J-Hope came walking in holding a plate with a fork shoved in his mouth.

"Hobi," Jungkook clued in, "what fucking type of pie is that?"

Hope set the items on the counter before Jungkook could chase him. As he began to flee he yelled out laughing, "I had a sudden craving for Apple." 

[bobathirstaccount]

A/N: whoa THANK YOU for the love on ch 8!! Thanks to everyone reading to the end!! Tell me what you want to see next. More multi chapter? One offs? <3 <3

Hard to Find Someone Like You

Boba x fem!reader, slow burn to smut, some romance, fair amount of plot, Post-Mando 2 Boba

You are a merc serving under Fennec at Fett’s Palace. It’s business as usual until a certain helmet starts tilting in your direction...

TW: unprotected sex, descriptions of violence, brief mention of past abuse

Translations (Mando’a)

Riduur - spouse

Cyar’ika - darling/ sweetheart

***

CHAPTER NINE

You powered up Daesha. Fuck this, you thought. I don’t go and he gets himself captured on purpose. You knew if you were there he would not have done it. You were beyond furious at this point.

You exited Tattooine’s atmosphere, seething. Someone was going to pay. Dearly. You entered into jump space, waiting like an angry caged predator. Waiting to lash out and kill. You exited jump space extremely close to the planet. It was risky, but you had to get past their sensors. You almost crashed into a satellite, narrowly avoiding a collision. You dove into the atmosphere at a sharp angle, burning up. You had to get below their radar before you were detected. You relied on your smuggler’s courage, falling from the sky. You made it, pulling up sharply when you were safe from detection. You piloted slowly, pulling up a map of the capitol.

You scanned when you were close enough. You found Slave 1’s signature. You circled around the city, setting down as close as you could. You made your way through the forest, up to the walls of the city. You snuck in on a convoy, concealing yourself in a wheel well.

Jumping off the convoy, you located the hanger Slave 1 was in. You snuck in silently, holding back your wrath. You cut into the security feed and looped the footage, so it was no longer live. You continued through the facility, stopping at Slave 1 to warm her up. She would be ready to take off when you got back. Now, where would prisoners be kept?

You hacked a terminal nervously. It slowly clicked, taking forever while you were exposed in a hallway. Finally you broke in. You located the detention center. It was a bit of a walk, but that was okay. You would get there.

***
You arrived at an entrance. You began to hack the door. Suddenly you heard footsteps. You jumped up the wall and clung to the eaves, silently hanging as a Mandalorian guard passed under you. You thought about dropping down, sinking your blade into his neck, twisting. But you had to stay on task. He could live.

When he was safely away, you started over. You listened to the terminal click repeatedly. The door slide open. You were in like lightning. You looked up for cameras; nothing. Curious. You continued down the hallway, pulling up a more detailed map as you went. You stopped under a duct and hopped up into the central air system, crawling around. You passed over may rooms full of Mandalorians relaxing. You were filled with anger, looking at them. But you continued on.

You made it to the cells. You carefully crawled over each one until you found who you were looking for. Boba was sitting on a small cot, looking intimidating. He seemed to be favoring his right side a bit. You quietly removed the A/C grate to his cell, and dropped through. He didn’t move except to tilt his helmet slightly upward. “I would be furious you are here, but there’s no point now.”

“Shut up; I’m here to get you and the others out. I know where Slave 1 is.”

He shifted in his armor. “We can’t fit the way you came.”

“I know.” You pulled out your foldable rifle and set it up. “We’re going to kill our way out.”

He snorted softly.

“I’ll then deal with you,” you said ominously. “Get ready to run.”

“I can’t. I’m injured.” He indicated his right side. “Blaster shot. I’m okay but weakened.”

You almost cried, but held it back. A gut shot? He had been so close to dying. Instead, you pulled out your mini torch. “Time to melt this fucking door.”

The lock melted and the door sprung open in no time. You carefully peered out. There was no one, but there was a security camera at the end of the hall. Kriff. This was going to get messy fast. You tossed a blaster at Boba. “Try to stay the fuck out of the way this time.” He nodded, preparing. You hopped out of the cell and shot the camera. At least they were blind. You then set to work torching the other locks. Boba covered you as the guards appeared, guns blazing. You got all the doors open, and your small group advanced. You had only brought two other pistols with you, so the unarmed hung back. You stood pointedly in front of Boba, refusing to let him go to the front.

You shot your way into a break room, and busted out the window there. Everyone jumped out. You followed, transmitting the coordinates of Boba’s ship. The group scattered, looking for cover as they made their way to Slave 1. You and Boba hung back. He could only force himself to go so fast. You provided covering fire for most of the others to escape the immediate danger. You hoped they would make it.

Alarms were going off now. The noise was everywhere, screaming. You grabbed Boba, “This way!” You jogged down the ally, dragging a laboring Boba. Suddenly you saw stars, and your feet weren’t touching the ground. You landed in a little crumpled pile, stunned. You shook your head, mostly coming to. Your vision swam a bit as you saw Boba and a huge Mandalorian facing off. They were physically fighting each other; somehow both had lost their blasters in the confusion. The man swung at Boba, who deflected the blow. But he was too slow to counter attack effectively. The man rushed him. They collided like two sparring animals. You drug yourself foward and grabbed a blaster. The man had Boba against a wall and was trying to choke him. Aiming at his neck, you shot and killed the man attacking Boba. He dropped to the ground. Boba looked at you. “Come on, get your blaster!” You threw it at him and then grabbed him. The two of you hobbled off.

You were getting close; just a few more buildings to pass and you’d be at the hanger. Boba was getting heavier and slower. You hit him in the helmet, “Now is not the time; come on.” He staggered on with you. You reached the final corner and stopped. You peered around. Like a striking snake, an arm with a dagger shot out. You bent your back, narrowly escaping getting your throat cut. You screamed, and ran around the corner with your rifle. She deflected the rifle and somehow got it away from you. She hit you in the face with the butt. You again saw stars, but remained upright. Boba had come around the corner and started shooting at her. She fell back, shooting at the two of you with your own rifle. You were pinned down by her, so close to the hanger door you had already hacked and left unlocked.

Finally you knew what you had to do. You looked back at Boba, who was busy returning fire. You would get him out of here. Boba tilted his helmet then, sensing you were about to do something. He reached to grab you, but it was too late. You were up and over your cover before he could blink. He jumped up immediately to lay down suppressing fire, terrified to see you get shot before him. Your body armor took some damage, but you kept going. It hurt like hell but now was not the time to acknowledge that. You hurtled over the woman’s cover, striking down at her with your knife. You cut her at the shoulder slightly. She turned, trying to shoot you. You viciously kicked the gun out of her hand. The two of you engaged in combat; one of you bare handed but better tactically prepared. Her armor rebuffed the advances of your knife. She punched and hit you in the head repeatedly. You kicked and slashed, aiming at the joints in her armor. You spit your own blood at her, trying to obscure her view. She rushed you; you took the impact and flipped her over you. She rolled up and away from you. The two of you circled. You grit your teeth. No time for this. You would have to make some sacrifices in order to get close enough to wound her enough to stop her. As long as you could drag yourself to Slave 1.

Out of nowhere Boba appeared, looming over the other Mandalorian. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, flipping her. Grunting from effort, he dropped her face first into the ground. She landed and laid there in a strange position. You looked up at him, surprised. He reached a hand out, “Time to go.” You took it. The two of you stumbled into the hanger. Your companions had made it and were waiting. They ran out and pulled you into the ship. Boba clawed his way to the cockpit. No one else was piloting. Slave 1 was ready, so he closed the hatch and took off immediately, blasting his way out of the hanger.

Slave 1 screamed out of the atmosphere, with several ships in hot pursuit. They closed in; Boba dropped a proton bomb, killing them in the explosion. Some ships in orbit were waiting. They engaged with Slave 1 as it successfully left the atmosphere. Boba played chicken with them, closing the distance. They parted at the last second, unwilling to give their lives. He shot into jump space immediately. Everyone in the observation room sighed, relieved. Boba sat back in his chair, totally spent. You were upon him with a med kit.

“No, later, just let me sit here for now,” he protested. “Let’s fix your face instead,” he reached a gentle hand up to your swollen cheek.

“I just got into a bad bar fight. You’re shot.”

He relented, and lifted up his clothing. You got to work, cleaning the wound on his side. Silence settled. He finally broke it, “Where is Daesha?”

You stopped putting ointment on his injuries. “I had to leave her there. There wasn’t enough space on her for everyone, plus Slave 1 is more important. We can’t have her captured.”

“Practical,” was all he said. You tried to nod dispassionately. Truth was you were heartbroken you might not see her again. “We’ll get her back,” he finally said. You nodded again, unable to speak about it. He seemed to understand. “Did Fennec send you?” He removed his helmet and eyed your sharply.

“I sent myself. She begged me to stay.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t be mad at her.”

“She should have made you stay.”

”That’s not her job.”

He sighed. “Will you ever stop worrying me?”

“Probably not. But didn’t I get you and everyone else off world?”

He grit his teeth a bit, “Yes.”

“So. Next time don’t leave me at home.”

He shook his head, “This does not settle anything.”

You glared at him then, “What would?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re being unfair.”

”Yes.”

You were at a loss for words. His gloved hand gently touched your bruised face. “I don’t want to see you like this.”

You shrugged, “I’m built for it.”

“No one is built for it.” He sighed angrily.

“You don’t know all my secrets. I can take it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t I know?”

You looked down, shrugging. “They never really came up.”

“They’ve just come up.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I’m just used to being beat.” You refused to elaborate.

“Tell me. If you are my riduur.”

You exhaled. “I just... got beat a lot as a kid. And when I got older I just kept getting into those kinds of relationships.. and bar fights.. and fight fights.”

He eyed you. “Who beat you as a child?”

You returned his gaze, annoyed by his persistence. “My father beat all of us.”

“That’s terrible.”

”I know. But it doesn’t define me. It just means I know how to take a punch.” You tried to smile wryly.


“You don’t have to act.”

You looked down, suddenly sad. “I have to live with it somehow.”

He pulled you into his lap, “Let me help carry the burden.” He kissed you softly. You leaned into him, crying suddenly. He held you to himself until it was time to come out of jump space. You jumped out of it into orbit around Tattooine. Home.

Slave 1 again screamed through the atmosphere, in case there were pursuers. Finally you landed at the palace. You sighed, relieved. Now you could relax.

Boba slowly made his way off Slave 1. Din hugged him, squeezing his torso. He made a pained wheeze but allowed it. Fennec stepped forward and grabbed his hands. “We’re so happy you’re back safely.” He nodded. “I need to lay down.”

“Of course,” Fennec moved to the side to let him pass. She eyed you, and grabbed your hand, stopping you as you moved to follow Boba.

”How badly is he injured?”

”Blaster to the side. He’s okay.”

“Barely.”


You swallowed and a knowing look passed between the two of you. Din interrupted. “We should increase security even more. They’re going to be pissed one merc got Boba Fett from them.”

Fennec nodded, “I’ll take care of it.” She disappeared into the palace. Din turned to you. “I’m sorry this happened.” You scoffed, “This is what happens when you leave me at home.”

He shifted his weight, “Well...”

You held up your hands. “No ‘wells’ — you’re not leaving me home again.” He shrugged awkwardly. You took off after Boba, leaving everyone else in the hanger.

***

You nursed Boba back to health slowly. He was back on the throne the next day as a show of strength, but he was in pain for weeks after. You hovered around him, viciously protective. Even Fennec’s eyes were sharper than normal.

At night you laid next to him, waiting to see if he would need anything. You woke up exhausted often. You kept him happy in all the ways you could think of. You rode him carefully when he wanted to fuck, refusing to let him get on top. You held him to you when he was drifting off, refusing to let go.

Finally he was healed. You touched his blaster scar, the newest of many on his body. He twitched, “Don’t tickle me.” You smiled. Only in bed with you would he use the word “tickle.”

“Just appreciating that it’s fully healed.” He hmmed at you. He opened his eyes. “I can think of other ways you can appreciate I’m fully healed.” You smiled, biting your lip. “Can I be on top now?” He traced your lips with a finger. You sighed, “I suppose so.”

He rolled over onto you, spreading your legs with a knee. He slipped in between your thighs, already erect. You spread them further, anticipating. He growled softly, licking your throat. He bit you softly as he entered you. You moaned with pleasure, feeling him stretch you. He started to fuck you, softly. You were surprised. Was he still in pain? He kissed you on the mouth, then. You put your hands on either side of his face, enjoying the sweet kiss. He picked up the pace slightly. You urged him on. He smiled against your lips, “So eager to get fucked, pet?”

“Yes,” you retorted.

“Did you miss it?”

”Yes,” you started to pant. He increased the pace again, until you were cooing into his ear. You felt yourself about to cum, pussy starting to clutch around him. You gripped his shoulders. “Riduur...” you called out as you came, waves of pleasure emanating from your pussy. Your limbs turned to jelly as you tried to hang on. He grunted and bit your throat, fucking you in a frenzied pace. He nuzzled his face into your neck and came deep in you as you continued to coo sweet nothings in his ear. You laid like that for a moment, you telling him all sorts of secrets that pass between lovers at these moments. Finally he rolled off you. He had a gentle expression, almost vulnerable. You snuggled into him. “What is it?”

“I was... terrified when I saw you come out of the ceiling, you know.”

”No faith in me, huh?”

”It’s not like that. I admit, it took skill and courage to get us all out.”

“Then let me play with the big kids.”

“Will you at least listen to me when I ask you to pull back? You don’t need to be first.” You thought of the Daesha and your dog fight. You swallowed down a lump in your throat; so far she was unretrievable.

“We’ll get Daesha back, cyar’ika.” Boba touched your chin with his hand.

“Maybe,” you sighed. “I don’t need to be first, you’re right.” You looked into his warm eyes.

“Then it’s finally settled,” he said softly. You smiled brightly. “So, how’re we going to get Daesha back?” He returned the smile and opened his mouth to speak.

[dokidokey]

mirio, as he insisted you call him, takes you to an amusement park for your first date, oblivious about the fact that you never quite got over your phobia from that one final destination movie.

fluffvember track 06: amusement park 

word count: 3257

warnings: mentions of gruesome ways of dying, discussion about final destination, throwing up, swearing

notes: i am only going to ever write for mirio and no one else bye

FLUFFVEMBER MASTERLIST

Your hands have never been as clammy as they are now, at seven in the evening at the entrance of this newly built amusement park some minutes away from your university. Mind reeling like the tracks on that rollercoaster you see swirling up and down, you didn’t register the fact that Togata has been calling your name a few times now.

“Sorry, sorry, what was it again?”

He smiles that blinding smile of his, eyes crinkling at the sides as he beams at you. Something that really makes him stand out is his charisma, you notice, as it is so easy for him to connect and get along with others. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be here right now, which is something you appreciate but kind of dread.

“You look really nervous,” he comments, gaze dropping momentarily on your hands that you’ve been wiping at your jeans for some time now. “You scared of heights or something? We can just avoid the ferris wheel and rollercoaster.”

You let out an awkward laugh at his conclusion, doing a once-over of the place. The night is alive with the amusement park’s glittering LED lights and the hundreds of people’s laughter and screams commingling.

“More like afraid of what will happen,” you mutter, eyes trailing back to the rollercoaster that seems to loom over you.

A confused  but rather interested look is on your date’s face, an easy smile over his lips. He says, “what do you mean?”

A bead of sweat slides down your temple and you quickly swipe it away with the back of your hand. “Have you seen Final Destination? That film ruined my life.”

Flashbacks of what you’ve seen from the movie replays vividly in your head, a shudder making its way up your spine. What if the moment that it’s your turn that a nut turns loose in the tracks? What if some passenger decides to bring a camera with them and it falls on the tracks and gets run over by the cart? There are an infinite amount of possibilities how you can die tonight.

The line for the entrance moves and you and Mirio step along. There are only four more people before it’s your turn.

He turns to you and slightly cocks his head to the side. “I actually haven’t seen that. Is it good?”

Is it good? God.

“No,” comes your immediate reply, hugging your jacket as a rather cold breeze sweeps around. “No, it’s not. It’s the worst. The girl can, like, see a vision of how she and her friends are going to die. The first one is at the carnival and some of her friends died on the rollercoaster. It’s － disgusting. Gory. Blood and all that shit.”

“Huh,” Togata says, a raised eyebrow directed at you. “You just said shit.”

“And?”

The line moves forward and you’re next at the booth.

“I’ve never heard you say that before.”

Of course he hadn’t. You’ve known each other for probably two weeks max, after he approached you in the hallway one Thursday morning. His effort of asking you out on a date that time is politely taken down as you prefer to get to know people first before getting yourself involved with them. You only took up his fourth offer for a date two days ago, and here you are now.

The people in front of you step aside and you pull out the few wads of cash you have in your pocket for your own ticket but Togata beats you to it. Your eyes are zeroing in on the exchange the man behind the booth is handing him back.

“Togata, I could－”

“I told you,” he says with a smile and steps aside, holding two green wristbands, “to just call me Mirio. Literally no one ever calls me Togata. Plus, it’s weird coming from you.”

“Okay. Well, Mirio, I could have paid for my own ticket.”

He shakes his head and motions for you to hold out your wrist, wrapping the green paper around your wrist.

“But I wanted to,” he grins, looking up briefly at you before securing the band around you. You take in the way his nose is angled when looking down, the slope so smooth you had the weird urge to run the pads of your fingers in them. His hair is still up and you wonder if it will stay like that after some not-so-extreme rides later.

He hesitantly asks you to wrap his own wristband for him, to which you shake your head, amused. Really, he has the guts to ask you four times for this date but gets shy about a wristband.

Once done, you both pass through the giant, blinking arch of the amusement park’s name. It’s like the sounds of the place intensifies as you walk farther in, sounds from game booths and the rides ringing in your ear.

“Where do you want to go first?” Mirio asks, looking around. You really don’t want to decide where to go first (or to go at all, honestly.) You eye a booth at your right that has some cute stuffed toys dangling, a particular lime turtle catching your attention.

It turns out you don’t need to decide as Mirio takes you by your wrist and drags you to the booth you were eyeing moments ago.

“So?” He looks down at you because this man is tall. You barely reach his shoulders. He looks up and squints. “What do you want?”

“Nothing!” You squeak out. “I － Why don’t we try the rollercoaster or something?”

That pulls out a loud laugh from him as he throws his head back, catching the attention of some people nearby.

“Really?” He looks unimpressed. “After you told me about that movie? No. What do you want?”

“Do I get to pay for it?” You mumble, looking up to scan the other plushies above you. There’s a cute baby pink elephant at your left, but the turtle one is cute too, so great － now you’re just torn between what to choose out of the two.

“Let me think about it,” he pouts and brings a finger under his chin as if to think, then his face lights up as he says, “no!”

You roll your eyes at his childish antic but a small smile is on your face. “Whatever.”

“So what do you want?”

“I don’t know,” you frown, “that turtle’s cute but that elephant is too.” You point at the two plushies you mention. “You pick.”

There’s a silly grin on Mirio’s face as he decides. “Let’s get both then!”

“No!” You latch on his arm in panic when he moves to fish money on his pockets. “No, just one! The elephant is cuter!”

He just hums and ignores you, talking to the booth owner about the mechanics of the game. God, you don’t even know what game this is. Mirio is handed six darts and you look forward to see five balloons of different sizes and colors, placed all over the board.

“What do you do?” You ask in a small voice, letting go of his arm to stand beside him in a reasonably close proximity. “You pop all of that?”

He nods, concentrating on popping the first balloon. He takes a deep breath and jumps a few times like he’s taking on such great activity and not popping five balloons for a silly plushie. He throws his arm back for the first attempt, and you’re distracted. His arms are sexy, gosh, okay. You’re a little out of it, eyes fixed on the way the sleeve of his navy blue shirt is stretching at the movement that the first pop of the balloon on the lower left of the board startles you.

“Yeah!” Mirio cheers, a fist in the air. “Four more and you’ll get your dear turtle.”

“Elephant,” you correct him, leaning your hips on the railing separating the stall and the pathway. “I want the elephant. It’s cuter.”

“Sure,” he laughs, throwing a red dart and popping the large, orange balloon near the center, “the elephant it is.”

Mirio successfully pops two more balloons. The only one left is the green one, which looks about just a little bit bigger than your fists, and as Mirio throws his arm back and propels the dart to the board, it misses.

“Damn,” he mutters, arm swiftly gliding through the air in disappointment. “One more, one more.”

“It’s my elephant on the line here, sir. You better pop that one,” is your way of cheering him on.

Mirio chuckles at you and winks. “Maybe a kiss for a good luck will work.”

“I mean,” you shrug, nonchalantly facing your palm upwards with a disinterested look on your face, “it’s okay if you lose too.”

There’s a pop in the air and no more balloons are attached to the board. You gasp, looking at Mirio with wide eyes.

“You got it!” You say excitedly, “you did it!”

He nods while laughing. You swear this man can’t go a second without smiling or laughing. You’ve never seen him not beaming ever. If he were a dog, Mirio would certainly be a golden retriever.

The booth owner hands you the pink elephant you mentioned earlier, your fingers biting on its soft fur.

“Don’t I really get a kiss?” He asks as you walk toward where the rides are. The screams grow louder with every step.

“Thank you,” you smile at him and hug your elephant to your chest, pressing your face on its head, “but no kisses. Maybe on the second date. Who knows?”

“Oh? So there will be another date after this?”

Did you just. . . really say another date? Did you really just say you want to go on another date with him?

“I － I mean, yeah, why not.”

Mirio shakes his head in amusement at your answer and asks you where you want to go next. The line at the rollercoaster is unbelievable long but it’s not like you’ll ride that. You don’t even consider that thought.

Mirio points to a circular something, with chairs or egg-like something spinning inside. “That! You want to try that?”

You don’t because what if something bad happens? How gruesome is your death going to be if you die in that ride? God, if that ride decides to malfunction is it even possible you’ll make it out alive? But you don’t want to be a killjoy. You’re here to have fun and though the kind of fun in your head is usually followed by some morbid afterthought, you don’t wanna ruin the fun for Mirio.

So you nod and let him take your wrist again, falling in line at the ticket booth for the ride. The line isn’t as long as the one for the rollercoaster and you’re fourth in line, surprisingly enough.

The grip you have on your plushie tightens as you observe the ride. They do look like egg-shaped cars, or carts, or whatever you call this. And they twist so fast in circles. You’ll end up like scrambled eggs here. A very dizzy and nauseated scrambled eggs.

“You okay?” Mirio asks, watching you watch the people on the ride scream and shout, their voices ringing around the place as they go in circles.

“Yeah,” you assure him, voice a little higher than usual.

Mirio turns to face you fully, eyebrows pinched together. “Are you sure? We can always go somewhere else.”

“No, no, this is fine! We’re fine. I’m just － I don’t know,” you groan, burying your face on the elephant’s head again. “That movie is just living rent-free in my head. What if we die here, Mirio? What if this giant circular thing decides to malfunction?”

Mirio huffs out a laugh at your demise, placing both hands on your shoulders and squeezing. “We are not going to die here, okay? That’s just made up. It isn’t real. Besides, how are we going to go on that second date if we die now?”

You groan against the elephant’s head once again at the teasing lilt of his voice. It seems he won’t let you live that one out for tonight.

You both wait in line a few more minutes before the ride, which you saw is called Tilt-A-Whirl, slowly decelerates and the passengers get out of the egg-cart things. The line at the ticket moves until it’s yours and Mirio’s turn. Of course, he pays again, which you complained to him but didn’t get to do anything about it as you’re ushered to climb up and pick a seat. Your elephant plushie is taken away and placed on a table near the ticket booth.

There are six egg carts in all, the platform uneven. From what you saw in line earlier, these egg carts spin in circles in their place as the platform flows, like an escalator. So as the egg carts spin on its own in circles, it goes around the place in uneven elevations.

Mirio let's you in first before he sits next to you, pulling down the metal bar to secure you both in place. You thought your palms were the clammiest they have ever been before you entered this place, but you’re proven wrong as you wipe your hands on your jeans once again, heartbeat frantic and blood rushing in your ears.

“Calm down,” comes Mirio’s soothing voice. “We haven’t even started yet.”

“But what if we die?” You voice out your thoughts, gripping the metal bar hard that it feels like you cut off the circulation of your blood. “We’ll end up like some low budget Final Destination remake.”

Mirio laughs, patting your hand gently before placing his beside yours. “We won’t, Y/N. Trust me. We’re still going on that second date, remember?”

You didn’t get to retort to his teasing as the engine whirs to life, shutting you up and tripling the erratic pace of your heartbeat. You inhale deeply before releasing it in a loud breath to try and calm your nerves but it isn’t working.

Your egg cart starts to slowly spin as you feel it move around, your stomach dropping along when it gets to that lower part of the platform.

“Oh God,” you say rather loudly as your surroundings start to blur and the spinning gets faster, the lights of the park dissolving into bright lines in your vision.

“OH GOD, MIRIO,” you scream once the cart is spinning insanely fast, “OH MY GOD, MIRIO, WE’RE GOING TO DIE. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.”

You aren’t sure if Mirio is laughing next to you because your ears are ringing. The fact that the other passengers are screaming too isn’t helping. You can feel yourself starting to feel dizzy and you clamp your eyes shut, tucking your head down.

“Y/N come on!” Mirio screams then you feel his hand over yours, just as sweaty and clammy but you don’t care. It feels kind of good. It’s like he’s keeping that bit of your soul and sanity in your body.

“WE’RE GOING TO FUCKING DIEEEEE,” you shout. When your cart jumps a little harder as you go around, your heart rate picks up. You literally might faint right now. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT SHIIIIT SHITSHITSHIT.”

Is this it? Is this how you die? Was that particular hard jump of your cart because of a loose nut in this ride? Are you going to fly off? Will you die like one of those people in Final Destination? God, you hope not because you still need to finish your education and maybe go on that second date with Mirio and pass that project you have due in a week.

Mirio’s loud laughter battles the loud ringing in your ear and you aren’t sure or oriented enough to notice how long you were spinning until it slowed to a stop. Mirio pushes the metal bar off you and gets up. You envy the way he’s standing straight and isn’t looking a bit dazed or out of it.

“Can you stand?” He asks in worry when you melt farther in your seat and squeezes your eyes shut to try and get rid of the spinning but when you open your eyes, it’s still the same. Mirio looks funny to you and the glinting LED lights behind him are melting in your vision.

You brace yourself as you stand up but fail. You thought you stood up but you didn’t. You fall right in Mirio’s arms and he’s chuckling quietly as he holds you upright.

You did end up as a dizzy and nauseated scrambled egg.

“Can you stand?” Mirio repeats but you just shake your head which is a very bad idea because the dizziness worsens. You aren’t sure nor paid enough attention how you got out of the ride but you somehow did and now you’re clutching your baby pink elephant again. Mirio keeps a hand on your shoulder as you both stand a few feet away from the ride you got off.

“Are you okay now?” Mirio asks with a worried crease on his forehead. As much as you’d like to assure him and tell him that you’re okay (even though you aren’t,) you can’t because that’s when you feel the bitter and scorching feeling at your throat as the food you ate earlier goes back up your esophagus.

You’re quick to shove the stuffed toy on his chest and slapping a hand over your mouth, garbling out a “mhm,” hoping he’ll get your message and lead you to the side so you can puke your guts out.

You’re surprised when he mutters a quiet, “oh shit,” before ushering you to that single bathroom stall and you would have rubbed it in his face that he just swore but you’re too busy vomiting.

It’s disgusting and so unappealing and you feel like you just turned him off. What a great way to ruin your first date.

A series of knocks on the other side of the door startles you. “Are you okay?” Mirio asks, “you need some water? I can get you one.”

“No, no, wait,” you say because you so don’t want to be left alone here, wiping the back of your hand to the side of your mouth and you add quietly, “disgusting. You’re so disgusting and embarrassing.”

You stand up and spit once more on the toilet before patting your hands on your jeans, then next your cheek. You clear your throat before pushing the door open and looking meekly at Mirio. He visibly relaxes as you stare back at him.

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

You clear your throat again just to be sure, grimacing a little from the aftertaste of your vomit. “Still kind of dizzy but I can manage.”

“Good,” he says, running a hand through his hair and that’s when you notice his hair is down! And it’s so fluffy you kind of want to just clamp your hand down on his head. He notices you staring at his hair and smirks, shaking it out a little. “Is it weird?”

“No! No, you － you look good like that, actually.”

He throws his head back to laugh, the sound ringing in the air. For a moment you forget you’re in the middle of an amusement park. “I could just kiss you right now,” Mirio chuckles, shoulders shaking as yours slacks.

“I literally just threw up,” you deadpan.

“Who cares?”

“You’re disgusting. Come buy me that water.”

[tripleaxeldiaz]

all was golden when the day met the night

chapter 3/5

read on ao3

start from the beginning

“...and then we saw the lions, but they were sleeping so they weren’t very scary. And the otters were so cute, and they came right up to the glass when they were swimming underwater!”

Eddie smiles as Chris recounts their day at the zoo to his parents over FaceTime. The monthly calls had been their idea, a way for them to stay up to date on Chris’s life in between holidays and summer visits. It was also their way of having a scheduled time to nitpick Eddie’s life from 800 miles away.

He loves his parents, he does. He just loves them more when they aren’t speaking.

“Your face looks a little red, sweetheart, were you wearing sunscreen today?” his mother asks, face getting too close to the camera as she inspects her grandson.

“Yeah, Dad put some on me when we got there.”

“Did he put on any more during the day?” Her eyes shifted to Eddie, perched next to Chris on the couch. “You know you need to reapply every two—”

“Yes, Mom, I did. And it’s getting late so we should really get going, say goodbye buddy—”

“Wait! I didn’t show them my snakes!” Chris rifles through his backpack underneath the coffee table, yanking out a folder and flipping through it until he finds the drawings he and Buck worked on. He holds them up triumphantly, angling them so his grandparents could see. “Buck helped me with them!”

“And Buck is…”

“Dad, you know who Buck is. My friend that owns the tattoo shop?” He tries not to ignore how calling Buck his “friend” feels like a disservice to all that he really is, how it tastes like sand in his mouth.

“He’s an awesome artist,” Chris pipes in. “He has huge books in the shop of all the stuff he can do, and sometimes he lets me watch when he’s working!”

His parents blanche at that, and Eddie is really not prepared to have this argument right now. He and Chris had a great day together, a rare day when he wasn’t in the shop for any reason, leaving it in Hen’s more than capable hands. They had a lot of fun at the zoo, were getting ready for a Marvel double feature in their living room, and Eddie was in an honest-to-god good mood, for once not plagued by lingering stress or ambiguous sadness. He’s not about to let any outside judgements ruin that.

“I think it’s time to go. Chris, can you say goodnight and go get your pajamas on?” Chris waves as he grabs his crutches and heads to his room. Eddie turns back to say a quick goodbye, but his dad clears his throat before he can speak.

“You leave your son alone in a tattoo parlor?”

“He’s not alone, Dad, he’s with Buck and all the other adults that work there. Plus it’s only in a pinch.”

“Eddie, do you really think those are the kind of people you should be leaving Christopher with?” his mother asks, a look of contempt masked by concern on her face.

Eddie takes a slow breath in and out through his nose. No use in giving them more ammo by getting angry. “Just because you don’t like their business doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

“We just want to make sure Christopher is—”

“He’s fine. He’s happy when he’s learning to draw with Buck. I’m not going to take that away from him just because you don’t like it. Now we have to go, we’ll talk to you later.” He hits the red end button before they can protest any further. He tips his head back to rest on the couch and scrubs a hand over his face, his good mood now tinged with prickly frustration.

He thinks his parents mean well, but they’ve always been forceful when it comes to Chris, especially after Shannon left. It’s like they knew, somehow, how lost Eddie was on his own, how scared he was that every little thing he did was setting Chris up for failure, and took every opportunity to fix something he was doing or tell him he was wrong. That he didn’t actually know what Chris needed since he had been gone for so long. 

Eventually, Eddie started believing them.

But when Mrs. Negrelli gave him the money to start his own shop, he didn’t just see it as a fresh start for himself, but for Chris too. Eddie would be able to take them anywhere, away from the looming disappointment of his parents, and give himself the opportunity to figure out how to best be the dad that Chris needed. And if the past year is any indication, he knows he made the right choice, a credit he isn’t usually able to give himself. He’s not perfect, still second guesses himself constantly, but Chris gets invited to birthday parties and sleepovers and gets As on his report card, so something must be working.

Chris comes back from his room, Spider-Man pajamas on, handing Eddie the remote to queue up the first movie. He’s happily chattering about all the cool things Spider-Man’s costume does in the movie, and as he settles into Eddies’s side, head resting on his chest, Eddie feels the prickliness subside, replaced by the contentment he only ever feels around his son.

They’re good here. Chris is happy here. That’s all that matters to Eddie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sundays are Eddie’s favorite days in the shop — traffic is usually slow, so he has time to plan out orders for the rest of the week and make sure their inventory is in check. It’s a little monotonous, but it eats up about four hours of time and gives him a break from any real thinking, so he feels almost relaxed by the time he’s done stocking cases. He has the added bonus of Chris and Buck’s conversation in the back room as background noise, interspersed with the occasional yell and slap of the table and Buck teaches him a new card game. The melody of Chris’s laugh and the harmony of their voices soothes him even more than usual, quiets some of the lingering annoyance from his call with his parents.

As he heads into the back room to grab the last boxes of peonies, Chris beckons him over to the table where he and Buck have been stationed since breakfast. It’s become a bit of a tradition: Buck brings muffins or bagels from Bobby and Athena’s bakery on Sundays and hangs out until the afternoons when his earliest appointments are scheduled (I refuse to tattoo anyone while they’re hungover from Saturday, Eddie. It’s not good for them and the extra complaining is certainly not good for me.). 

Maybe that’s another reason Sundays are his favorite days. Add that to the list of secret feelings involving Buck that are following him to the grave.

“Dad! Look, I colored Buck’s skull purple!” Chris says as Eddie comes behind his chair, bracketing him in with his arms on the table. Chris giggles as Eddie kisses the top of his head, leaning over him for a closer look. Buck’s latest tattoo is indeed a bright shade of purple, the roses surrounding it colored in blue.

“I told him I like cooler colors and he ran with it,” Buck says. Eddie’s eyes shift to Buck’s face, and he feels his heart stutter when he sees the soft, fond smile directed at Chris. It stutters again when Buck’s eyes meet his, that familiar warmth settling over him as Buck’s smile gets bigger, and he feels good enough, relaxed enough, that it actually soaks into his skin. Buck’s gaze flits down to Eddie’s arm where it’s still bracketing Chris, a crease appearing right between his eyebrows. The urge to lean over and kiss it away is unbelievably sudden and strong, and Eddie silently congratulates himself for keeping it together.

“Your ink looks a little faded there, Eds. I can fix it up for you, if you want.”

Eddie looks at the script on his arm, twisting it back and forth to see the whole thing. Buck’s right, the ink does look duller. Makes sense for a tattoo he got on his 18th birthday that he definitely didn’t take care of properly. 

Fortalecer la mente y superar el cuerpo. Strengthen the mind and overcome the body. When he was young and invincible, that seemed like all he needed. A clear head, clear purpose, clear desires, and he’d be able to do anything he wanted. If he followed the rules and did everything right, he’d get a happy ending.

But, once again, it hadn’t been enough. And now, looking at that tattoo just reminds him of the ways he’s failed. How he hasn’t been able to make his mind into anything resembling strong, how there are days when he’s so weak even basic functions take too much effort. How a happy ending is feels so far away he can’t remember what one even looks like.

He shrugs, hand rubbing the tattoo unconsciously. “Maybe, I kinda just want to let this one fade out though. Maybe get a different one somewhere else.”

“Well, my offer of a free tattoo still stands, just name the day.” Buck says. 

Chris gasps and twists around in his seat, eyes bright with excitement. “Can I help you pick it out? Can I draw it? I’m good at lots of stuff now, and Buck can help!”

And he’s not sure what it is — the smile on Chris’s face at the idea, Buck’s matching one, the lingering frustration with his parents transforming into rebellion (something he hasn’t felt since he last got a tattoo), or a combination of the three. But before he can think too hard about it, he hears himself saying:

“You know what? Why not. I’ll get another tattoo, and you guys can design it.”

They cheer and high five each other, Chris hugging Eddie tight around the middle.

“But,” Eddie says, “I do want final approval. And no cartoon characters.”

“I promise, Dad, it’ll be the best tattoo ever!” Chris grabs his nearby notebook and starts doodling, chattering happily about what he thinks will look good. Buck catches his eye again and winks, and Eddie’s returning smile is the easiest it’s ever been.

He grabs the boxes he came back for and goes to the front, still smiling as he hears Buck and Chris very seriously discuss the details of what Eddie should get. He’s not nervous, really, but he does say a silent prayer to whoever is listening that they don’t pick something too big or too bold. He loves them both, but not that much.

~~~~~~~~~~

They take about a week to design it and are so secretive they might as well be planning a jewel heist. It seems like every time Eddie walks into a room, they’re there with their heads pressed together, whispering over sheets of paper and pens. When Eddie tries to sneak a peek, they quickly hide everything away so he can’t see. Buck throws his whole body on the table at one point just to cover up the sketches.

Again, he’s not nervous. But the anticipation does start to get to him.

Finally, after a busy Saturday full of wedding deliveries, they announce that the design is complete, and Eddie is scheduled at Armageddon the following Friday evening. Chris already has a sleepover with Denny that night and won’t be able to come, but he makes Eddie double pinky promise to send pictures to Hen as soon as it’s done. 

It’s Friday now, and Eddie is all set up at Buck’s station in the back of the shop, waiting to see the final product of Buck and Chris’s hard work. He is a little nervous now, but he mostly blames that on Buck, who keeps looking over the sketchpad, pen in hand like he wants to make last minute changes, or like something isn’t quite right.

“Just show me, Buck,” Eddie says after a few minutes of watching Buck bite his lip in worry. Whatever the design is, he’s sure he’ll love it, if for no other reason than because of the two people who made it.

“Okay, okay. You can be honest if you don’t like it, but I think you’re gonna like it.”

He flips the paper over, turning it towards Eddie. It’s a crescent of flowers, an unfinished wreath, featuring moonflowers, Eddie’s favorite, with their starburst centers spiraling open, and ox-eye daisies, which he knows Chris loves. Sprigs of lavender and thyme fill in the gaps, and there’s a small bee floating around the center. It’s beautiful and a little chaotic, but it’s perfect. Reminders of his son and peace and courage that he’ll be able to carry with him always, that he’ll be able to look at when he forgets that he is capable of bravery or deserving of peace. He stares at the sketch, taking in every detail, for who knows how long. Buck clears his throat to get his attention.

“Chris thought the daisies and moonflowers would look good together, and they’re both white so no need for color. I thought the herbs would be nicer than just plain leaves. And he wanted it in a ‘C’ shape, you know, for Christopher.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “And the bee?”

“Chris thought that would be cute, too, but you can nix that if you want.” There’s a faint blush dusting Buck’s cheeks as his eyes track down to the bee in question. “So, what do you think? Any major changes? You can tell me if you hate it, I won’t tell Chris.”

He looks up and Buck’s eyes are excited and worried all at once. Eddie would do anything to take the worry away, but at least this time it’s an easy fix.

“I don’t hate it, it’s perfect,” he says, handing the sketch back to Buck and settling back in the chair. “Let’s do this.”

Buck smiles brightly as he grabs an antiseptic wipe, holding Eddie’s right arm steady as he wipes down the area just below his elbow crease where the tattoo will go. Eddie knew he wanted it there as soon as he’d agreed to get one — he’d be able to see it easily when he needed to, and he liked that it matched the placement of his current one, would almost be replacing it if the words ever fully faded away. Once it’s cleaned, Buck puts a temporary transfer of the design there to trace over, starts up the tattoo machine, and loads the ink. The low buzzing of the machine mixes with the music playing and soft conversation coming from other clients in the shop, washing over Eddie like white noise.

Buck takes his arm again, machine in hand, and locks his eyes on Eddie. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“You can yell if it hurts too bad, just try not to pass out.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, says “It’ll be—” before cutting off with an involuntary hiss as the needle touches his skin. Buck snorts, and Eddie does his best to glare but feels it fall short.

He hadn’t worried about the pain — he vaguely remembered the sensation of being stabbed over and over again and didn’t remember it hurting that bad. He had also been shot before, so he figured he’d be able to handle it.

What he hadn’t taken into account was that for the next two hours or so, he and Buck would be very close together, close enough that Eddie can feel Buck’s breath on his arm as he traces over the outline, feels his strong hand on his wrist as he keeps Eddie from twitching. He had never been this close to Buck, had never allowed himself to be, and now that he is, he’s not sure how to act. He tries to look anywhere else, takes in the art on the wall, watches the other clients with Maddie and Chimney. He tries to make a to-do list for the weekend in his head, go over the things Chris will need for school next week, mentally figure out the designs for next week’s orders.

It’s all in vain, though, because no matter what, his eyes always drift back to Buck. From here, he can take in everything, and for once, he lets himself, because who knows when he’ll have this opportunity again. 

Buck’s brow is furrowed in concentration, blue eyes dark as they focus. He can almost count every eyelash, and his birthmark stands out even more than usual, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. Eddie itches to reach out and touch it, feel how soft he imagines Buck’s skin to be under his fingertips. His cheekbones and jawline are sharp and beautiful, and Eddie wonders again how anyone could resist them. How someone could look at this man, have even one conversation with him, and decide they didn’t want more. He’s biting his lip as he finishes the first moonflower, and it turns and even darker pink as he releases it. Eddie gets a little lost imagining how those lips would feel on his, how gentle and warm and good. He imagines feeling them on his shoulder as they wake up on a Saturday morning, sees them laughing as they both make breakfast, trading kisses as they go. He wants to taste them, feel them moving down his neck, down his chest, wrapping around his—

He inhales quickly and shakes his head, because this is not the time nor the place to go down that particular road. Thankfully, Buck’s still in his own little world, eyes never leaving Eddie’s arm. He must mistake Eddie’s movement for discomfort, because he moves his free hand down from his wrist until they’re holding hands, Buck’s thumb moving slowly back and forth in comfort.

“You can squeeze if it hurts too bad,” he mutters, still not looking up. Thank god too, because Eddie can feel his face go bright red and his heart start working overtime.

The first pass takes about an hour, and they take a break so Eddie can stretch his legs and Buck can get more ink. There’s still some detailing left to do, but Eddie already can’t stop staring at the tattoo. It looks even better than the sketch, and having a tribute to his son literally branded on his skin fills a fiercely paternal part of him like nothing else ever has. There’s also a smug part that’s still 17 years old and can’t wait to see the looks on his parents’ faces when they have their next video call.

Buck finishes getting set up again and Eddie settles back in the chair. It’s quieter now — they’re the only two on the floor, Maddie and Chimney having finished up and moved to the back room, and the music playing over the speakers is something slower, stripped down, seems to filter into the room and soften all the hard edges of the world. Buck catches his eye from where he’s sitting, asking silent permission to start. Eddie nods, and he feels his heart swell when Buck automatically grabs his hand again. 

He’s got maybe 45 more minutes in this proximity to Buck, and he takes full advantage: notes the way his curls are starting to fall loose after a long day, tries to catalogue each shift of his face, every twitch of concentration, the shadow of his stubble growing in. Getting to study him like this — memorize the details of the beautiful face that houses an even more beautiful soul — makes all the feelings Eddie’s been trying to fight for months now bubble to the surface, fizzing inside of him like pop bubbles. 

But there’s a chill that settles in as well, because despite his heart desperately pulling him towards this man, he reminds himself once again that he can’t have this. He can’t let himself have this, can’t do that to Buck. He’s supposed to be forgetting about his feelings, releasing them so they can both be happy — Buck with someone who deserves him and Eddie...alone. With Chris, but still. Alone. And now he has to wrestle with that while a slide show of Buck’s every facial feature plays through his head on a likely infinite loop.

He can’t forget as easily as he thought. If he’s honest, there’s a small, hopeful part of himself that doesn’t want to forget, that never wanted to forget, and it’s getting louder and harder to ignore with each passing minute.

“Done!” Buck says as he turns off the machine and wipes away the last of the excess ink. Eddie looks at the finished product, a soft smile settling on his lips. He looks up and sees Buck watching him, looking hopeful. “What do you think?”

Eddie’s finger hovers over a daisy reverently. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers, smile spreading as he meets Buck’s eye again. “Thank you, Buck.”

Buck returns the smile, squeezing Eddie’s hand where they’re still clasped together, neither of them moving to let go. They’re still in each other’s bubble, close enough that Eddie can still count Buck’s eyelashes, and he watches Buck watch him for a moment. His eyes roam his face like he too is cataloging Eddie from here, and that hopeful voice is convincing him that from where they’re sitting, it’d be so easy to lean in and confirm exactly what Buck tastes like, how his lips would feel under his own. Just six inches away from allowing himself to be happy, because he can’t imagine being anything else with Buck.

His phone goes off from his pocket, immediately bursting the bubble, both of them flinching as the loud trill fills the shop. They both know it’s Chris, but he still looks at Buck apologetically, like it’s his fault for shattering whatever atmosphere they’d just been living in. Buck just waves toward the phone, squeezing his hand one more time before letting go to clean up his station. He talks to Chris for a bit, showing him the tattoo from every angle, and Chris talks to Buck as well, gushing about what a great job Buck did. Buck blushes at the praise, and that tug of want pulls at Eddie again.

They hang up and Eddie gathers his things while listening to Buck’s strict aftercare instructions, both heading to the front door so Buck can lock up. 

“Are you sure I can’t pay you?” Eddie asks.

“I told you it was on the house and I meant that. Plus it’s nice to work on someone I actually care about.”

Eddie feels his face get warm, hopes the neon lights in the window are bright enough to cover it up. It gets warmer as they continue looking at each other, neither willing to break their little bubble again. He thinks he sees Buck move more toward him, like he wants to get closer, but he stops himself before following through, leaning back on his heels instead, looking sheepish.

“Goodnight, Eddie. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Eddie waves as he leaves, stepping into the cool night to walk back to the apartment. He keeps glancing down at his arm on the walk and while he’s getting ready for bed, thinking of the care Chris and Buck both put into creating it. That small voice in his head keeps nagging him, saying Buck wouldn’t do something like this, something this personal, for just anyone. He complains about his clients enough for Eddie to know that’s true.

Maybe the voice is on to something. As he falls asleep, Eddie lets himself think that maybe, maybe, on top of everything, on top of two years of friendship and flowers and looks that make Eddie’s insides flutter, maybe these feelings he’s been trying to ignore aren’t as one sided as he thought.

Maybe he has a chance.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 102

102

Keith felt crusty. Scabbing felt gross. His clothes rubbed at against his scabs, but he was trying not to be cranky. Nope. He wasn’t going to be cranky today at all. Not cranky in the slightest. He was going to be the cool, not-overly-protective, supportive, tongue-bitingly-silent boyfriend... as he watched this bad idea play out.

Coran had set up extra cameras in the gym, which was closed for the morning. The Blade werewolves were on standby, as if that’d stop two fighting vampires totally vamping out. Keith had talked Lance through warming up. His boyfriend dressed in sinfully right pants and a singlet, preferring yoga poses to listening to him. Keith itched to be moving, blaming his constant need to shift his weight on that and not being physically itchy. Bending forward with his arms stretched behind his back and fingers laced together, his boyfriend was too damn flexible

“See something you like?”

Asked with a cocky smile, the vampire was a shit. Yeah. He did. That fucking arse in those pants had driven him half mad all morning

“I’m thinking about all the positions I could bend you into”

Lance blushed, leaning down further, before rising and stretching himself high, showing off his snail trail and the “V” of his hips

“I am kind of flexible”

“I know. Now, do you remember what I told you?”

Lance let his arms drop, shaking out the stretch

“Don’t get hit?”

“Don’t be like that”

Lance sighed dramatically

“Babe, yeah. I remember. Tap out if I need to. And if I need to stop, the word is “red””

Lotor had to respect Lance’s bounds. Coran had set things up, after Keith had talked to Lance over what he wanted to do. It sucked that Lance couldn’t train with him how they’d trained before, but Lance knowing how to protect himself came first

“He’s going to be messing with your head”

“I know. One training set before we go home on the weekend and I can go home and practice with Matt and Curtis”

“And you’re sure you’re up for this?”

“Babe, I’ll be okay. You better leave before Lotor comes. You smell like blood still”

“I’m not leaving you alone”

“I’m only going to be alone for a few minutes, if that”

Keith was trying not to leave. He wanted to be with Lance and act every way he’d told himself he couldn’t. Swallowing down the burning need to whisk Lance away, he shuffled over to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms carefully around him, before kissing him softly

“I love you”

“I love you, too. Thank you for being understanding”

Keith didn’t quite have the right response for that

“I’ll be watching in the briefing room. If anything happens, or you don’t feel well, say red and we’ll come”

They were going to be watching in one of the conference rooms. The cameras would provide them views of every angle possible during the fight

“I know... I’m sorry I’m probably going to scare you”

“I’m less scared with you training here. None of will let anything happen to you”

“I know you won’t. I love you and I’ll see you soon”

“Stay safe, my little sharpshooter”

Lance snorted. Keith thought himself rather clever, Lance might have too as he earned himself another kiss. His boyfriend smiling stupidly. How he loved that damn smile

“You shoot one target in the nuts and they never let you forget it. You’ve got it, Samurai. See you soon”

*

Lance watched Keith leave the gym. He knew this was hard for his boyfriend. He’d read the offer the Blades had put before him, it wasn’t a bad offer really. He’d have stable pay, days off to deal with his heat, rolling shifts and would be trained by Kolivan with assistance from Blade werewolves. Plus, he’d be able to tag along with Keith and Shiro. Yet, he hadn’t accepted. Keith and Shiro worked without the need for words. One look said it all, and they didn’t need a third party between them. What the Blades needed was a vampire they could trust and knew the city. They were tired of chasing their tails and never getting closer to Sendak’s base of operation. Sendak had said he was there for Lotor, but the vampire could have easily spirited Lotor away at any moment he wanted. His lie wasn’t holding water anymore. He was clearly aiding Honerva, probably the boss and lord over whatever Honerva was doing to fuck with Platt.

Turning to examine the gym, the room was interesting. There was as much to do on ground as their was to do on the roof. The rear wall was for climbing, then footholds and ledges ran around the ceiling. A set of monkey bars were anchored into the roof, as were rings, netting, knotted ropes that were kind of intimidating. Sport hadn’t been his favourite subject, yet he might have actually made an attempt if the room had been like this. Behind him the door opened, Lance turning to face Lotor. The man never out of a suit, even when it came to training it seemed.

They both moved to meet towards the middle of the room

“Lance! Splendid to see you again. I’m excited that you took up my offer”

Lance was not excited. His ego didn’t like how Lotor made him feel. He wasn’t compelled to drop to his knees and pledge his ever living allegiance, but his ego did feel inferior

“It’s nice to see you too. Thanks for this”

“No worries. I’m very curious to see what you know”

“I’m looking to retrain. I’m used to fighting werewolves and humans”

Lotor crossed his arms

“Filthy mutts and mortals are child’s play. We are above them in terms of strength”

Ugh.

Lance felt as if he had all the strength but the will of a dead snail to match

“Look. I know you’re some big arse important vampire, but I like humans and werewolves. We need humans, and not just for their blood. We need them to keep sane and keep our egos under control. If you rely too much on your ego you’re going to lose your mind for it”

Lotor sniffed at his comment, the actually sniffed the air before smiling. What the hell was that? Lance didn’t think he was releasing pheromones... Lotor... just didn’t do it for him. He wasn’t blind, but Lotor wasn’t Keith

“A very... particular answer, for a very particular man. In your current situation, I think perhaps you should rethink your words”

Lance raised an eyebrow. What situation was he in?!

“Meaning?”

“If you do not know, it isn’t for me to point out. Now. Today’s exercise will be about avoidance. You will try to hit me, and watch how I avoid you”

Lance wasn’t impressed. Ego flaring at Lotor’s disinterested air. His nails were staring to cut into his palm as he clenched his fists. What a wanker!

“Are you serious?”

“Very. You will endeavour to strike me, I will avoid. Feel free to make use of the whole room, though we’ll avoid weaponry today. The humans would call this game “tag”, though that implies you can catch me”

He was going to make Lotor eat those words

“Bring it on”

Lance held back as Lotor moved, watching the ease and grace in his movements. There wasn’t a day that passed where Lance wouldn’t somehow trip on thin air or walk into something, not like Lotor who seemed to defy gravity. The man nearly looked like he was teleporting with how fast he moved. Lance’s ego was stung. It didn’t like feeling inferior to Lotor, despite the huge differences in their skill set

“Your opponent would never give you this much space in a real fight. Or are you frozen solid with fear?”

“I’m not afraid. Charging an unknown beast asks for trouble”

“Staying open in all directions also asks for trouble. I could have snapped your neck a hundred times over”

Lotor climbed the fair walls with ease, pulling himself up, then swinging out onto the netting and across to where he perched up on a knotted rope, resting left hand over right

“And you favour your left side over your right!”

“What good is that if you don’t do something about it?”

Lotor looked smug. Like Blue when she climbed to the top of her cat tower to survey her kingdom

“If I move to follow you up, you’ll jump down. It’s obvious”

“And yet, I won’t move until you do”

“And then you jump down and I chase you around... How does that teach me anything?”

“All I’m hearing is that you don’t want to use the gifts given to you by being turned”

“I’m quite happy living like a human”

“But you’re not a human. You have more speed and power than those hunters have in their little fingers”

So fucking what? What good was power when all he wanted was a small simple life with his friends. He envied all of his human friends so fucking much... The only good thing being dead had ever brought him was Keith

“I never asked to be a vampire”

“So you’d rather deny who you are? Live a broken life?”

“My life isn’t broken. I won’t be a slave to my ego”

“Because you’re too afraid. You could have anything you wanted”

“I have what I want and what I need”

“Then why is it that you can’t control your emotions. A little ego isn’t a bad thing. Doesn’t it get boring playing the good guy? The saviour? The dependable one?”

“I’d rather be who I am than listen to my ego”

“And that’s your problem. You fight your ego too much. Your ego gives you strength. You need to channel that strength if you wish to protect the ones you care for. You wouldn’t stand a chance against Sendak in your current state, yet your friends are ready to run to their slaughter to capture him. I could deliver him right into their hands with one phone call, but I don’t because they’d die before they ever landed a blow. Now, Little Lance, let that ego go. Show me that vampire that refused to cower before my ego. Unless you’re too scared to show that precious human of yours that side you keep hidden”

Lotor kept trying to get under his skin. For all Lance’s talk, it was working. He had to fight to not let that side loose

“He’s seen it before. He isn’t so scared as to run”

“Perhaps. But will he always stay by your side? Or will he run when he learns the situation you’re in?”

“And what situation is that?”

“You’ll soon learn...”

Lotor dropped down from the rope gracefully, Lance stepping back as the vampire landed in front of him. Leaning in, Lotor whispered, eyes fixed on Lance’s, preventing him from taking another step back

“Your scent’s changed since we met. You think you’re in control but you have no idea the things you’re capable of. If you want to learn what I know, you need to beat me”

Lance felt dreamy... almost foggy as he stared into Lotor’s eyes. Gritting his teeth, he mumbled

“Your games won’t work”

“This is no game. Let that hold go. Learn to use that ego when you need and you’ll learn how to control that bat form of yours. I was watching that night. Those wings. That form. That human of yours doesn’t appreciate how rare a trait that is. We are the sons of kings. Their blood carries through out very veins with their hate and rage from where that human god cast us aside. The war’s already begun, the die is cast and very soon this city will be pushed to the brink. Choose to fight, or watch it fall”

“If you’re that fucking knowledge, help the Blades! Do the right thing!”

“I am no match for Sendak alone. Together we could take him... with no need for those humans to hurt”

Lance felt as if Lotor was trying to get into his head hole. Baring his teeth, he tried to focus on the feeling, pushing against it

“You’re manipulating me”

“And you’re finally showing your colours. Go crazy with me”

“You’re already crazy”

Lotor laughed in his face, before grabbing him by the shoulders and throwing him down. Zero appreciation from his ego. Snarling at Lotor, his face twisted, eyes narrowing. He wanted blood... Lotor dared to lay hands on him like this. No one touched him. No one but his precious little human Keith

“You shouldn’t have done that, half-breed”

*

Watching Lance thrown aside by Lotor, Keith jumped to his feet too fast, grunting and staggering sideways into Allura’s hold. Lotor had kept provoking Lance, over, and over, and over, but it wasn’t until Lance hit the floor that he couldn’t sit still any longer. His boyfriend had resisted provocation. He’d smartly watched Lotor’s moves, keeping a safe distance and somehow that’d gotten Lance thrown on the floor. Groaning as Allura supported him, Keith was not a happy camper. He’d opened his scabs up again. Lance was going to be cranky... just like he was fucking pissed that Lotor had laid hands on his boyfriend. Lance’s voice like ice as he threatened Lotor. This was all going to go to crap. He could see it right now

“Quit fussing, Allura, I’m fine. I’m going to go get Lance”

Coran interrupted

“I would suggest waiting right now. Lotor’s finally provoked him. I know this hard to see, but this is what we were aiming for today. If you would prefer not to watch, you may wait in my office”

Keith wanted to stop this. He didn’t like this at all. Something in him screamed to go to Lance and stop this... but right now, he may have moved too fast and hurt himself... Lance would be madder about that than whatever happened with Lotor. Trying to sit down, pain shot up his spine, Keith shooting upright. He was going to be in so much fucking trouble with his boyfriend

“Keith?”

Allura gently asked his name

“I’m okay, sat wrong...”

He might have to wheel himself down to the gym...

“Do you want to me to try manipulating your quintessence? Perhaps see if I can lift some of your pain?”

Allura could do that? That sounded too much like magic... He wasn’t sure he wanted anyone messing with his quintessence. Her blue eyes were soft, staring at him rather at the screen past him

“Nah, I’ll be okay. How’s Lance?”

He’d have to work up to turning back towards the screen. He didn’t want to see Lance hurting

“I don’t think I can watch... I do hope they don’t injure each other”

“Me too... Lotor won’t hurt him, will he?”

“No. No. He was quite happy to meet with Lance. I think he’s rather happy to have found a kindred vampire here”

The expression on Allura’s face drew dreamy. Oh, no. He knew that look. Lance gave him that look. Allura saw something on Lotor that she liked... Good thing he already knew she wouldn’t let him walk all over her, or he’d have to be worried. Deep down under all that effortless glamour, Allura was a little bit scary. He didn’t want to ever piss her off

“Yeah. Right...”

Inching his chair around, Keith forced himself to watch Lance and Lotor. Lance wasn’t holding back, but somehow he’d been injured, his arm across his stomach as he held his side. His boyfriend wasn’t used to fighting like this, knowing that idiot, he’d probably pulled a muscle. All Keith could describe the scene as was what he imagined Kosmo would be like if got into a bag of sugar, both vampires constantly moving, thought Lance clearly hadn’t landed a touch on Lotor by Lotor’s smug impression. Not that his boyfriend wasn’t trying... he just had a very clear tell of when he was about to move. Keith seeing his own stances thrown in there as Lance threw repeated jabs, only to to hit air. This was way worse than watching Lance and Matt bond. Lance was faster and deadlier than he’d been with Matt. But never lost focus enough to be striking recklessly... for that, Keith felt proud. Scared slightly, but proud. Lance could do real damage if he ever wanted to, but those cold hands of his held a special kind of warmth reserved for those he cared about. Lotor wouldn’t feel that warmth. Lance couldn’t care less for him, and Keith couldn’t be more relieved that he didn’t. This Lance was a far cry from the Lance told him to pull the trigger. This Lance fought like he wanted to protect... though what he wanted to protect, Keith wasn’t sure.

Letting the fight play out, Coran finally decided it was enough after Lance was thrown for a second time. Crashing into the training dummies, the wooden frame splintered, Lance smacking hard into the wall, before pulling himself up and spitting what seemed to be blood. Wiping his mouth, his boyfriend grew faster still. Lotor not quite escaping as Lance grabbed him by the arm and slammed him into the ground with a sickening thud. Lance was as human as a vampire got, but still... vampires really could take a beating. Lotor sweeping Lance’s feet from under him, and they all felt the air in the room shift, despite only being there through the cameras.

Leaping back from Lance, Lotor smoothed out his suit jacket. Lance climbing to his feet like a drunken animal. Swaying as his arm came back across his belly

“I think we better stop it there. Any more and they’ll destroy the gym”

Keith couldn’t agree more. He worried about Lance spitting blood, and worried that his boyfriend had been impaled or hurt by being thrown into the training dummies. Shiro volunteered

“I’ll come with you”

Coran shook his head, replying firmly

“No, no. You stay here, number one. No one should approach until they’ve had a moment to regain themselves”

On the screen Lance went for Lotor, Lotor grabbed by the lapels of his jacket. Breaking the hold, the vampire tried to throw Lance, only for Lance to bite Lotor’s arm. Allura let out a gasp, betraying her emotions. Lotor growling as he shoved Lance away hard enough for his boyfriend to fall backwards badly. There was none of Lance’s softness on the screen. His eyes black as he snarled. Hurriedly, Coran left the room. Keith tried to stand, his legs shaky as he forced his knees to cooperate. If this was the training Lotor expected, Lance was the wrong vampire for the job.

[miraculouscontent]

Talking about the Season 3 finale time!

...yaaaaaay.

So I just want to start by saying how much of a shame it is that “Miracle Queen” was a terrible dumpster fire of an episode, because “Heart Hunter” legitimately had a lot of good things going for it. It had better pacing than usual, let Marinette have fun with Adrien and Kagami rather than be in a constant state of misery (she was miserable a few times, of course, but with good reason), gave Luka screentime and let him actually do things, built up suspense with Hawk Moth taking the Miracle Box, and it allowed Marinette to both have a breakdown and be comforted.

“Heart Hunter” was not a perfect episode, but for Season 3 standards, it was darn good. Its worst faults are things that I’ll get into soon, but most of them relate back to what “Miracle Queen” ends up being. I mean, despite how much “Miracle Queen” tries (and fails) to follow up on what “Heart Hunter” does, the two episodes feel as if they were written by completely different people; it’s like someone wrote “Heart Hunter,” got fired before they wrote the following episode, and someone else who hates Marinette and good storytelling in general was brought on and told to finish what the other writer started with no context as to what that other writer had actually planned.

But, anyway, yeah, just wanted to get that out of the way. Let’s get into the salt.

[Justice Delayed]

I'll just say it outright: I honestly didn't want Chloe to be redeemed. I'm not saying that she was outright irredeemable, but at the very least, I didn't want her getting her miraculous back.

The ultimate problem concerning Chloe is that the writers sent conflicting messages.

"Evillustrator" had Sabrina returning to Chloe, not because she's in a toxic relationship and doesn’t know how to deal with a better one, but because of a complete misunderstanding.

"Antibug" didn't have Chloe apologize for anything. Chloe gave Sabrina a gift instead of apologizing, and that's only because Ladybug brought up their relationship.

"Rogercop" completely ignored the possibility of Sabrina getting mad at Chloe for getting Roger fired.

“Despair Bear” had Chloe trying to be nice, but only to please Adrien. As soon as he was back on her side, she went back to being terrible.

"Zombizou" had Chloe feel bad, but for Miss Bustier. Like, oh, great, she sacrificed herself, but for what when Miraculous Ladybug fixes everything anyway and now Marinette is led on this idea that she has to be a good example for her bully when it was the bully getting consequences for their actions that made them react?

"Style Queen" threw in the “my mom hates me so i’m sad” card (far too late in the plot) and just had Chloe continuing to care only about the people who mattered to her: Ladybug and Adrien. They're people who are useful to her, and then "Queen Wasp" throws any intrigue into the trash by having her nearly kill dozens of people in a train crash (including Marinette’s parents, by the way) and not even feel bad about it yet still getting the sad sympathy music and the “feel bad for me” camera angles. The episode even goes further into confusing territory by having Marinette make Chloe and her mother bond over being mean to people.

After that, despite Chloe revealing herself to all of Paris, “Malediktator” has Adrien come in and make Marinette feel bad for being glad that her bully is gone, leading Ladybug to give Chloe another chance with the bee which just caused more chaos in “Catalyst” (where she insulted the one who brought it to her because he wasn’t Ladybug) when Hawk Moth used Queen Bee’s identity against her.

Then Season 3 comes along, and it is a mess. “Startrain” and “Stormy Weather 2″ featured Chloe being demanding of her miraculous (similar to “Catalyst” at least), then there was “Miraculer” which finally put the foot down on her only to do it in all the wrong ways by showing flashbacks of Chloe and Sabrina having good times (which might’ve worked had this been an episode trying to redeem Sabrina, showing why she’s attached to Chloe and going deeper into the themes of a toxic relationship with how a few nice things fool the mind) and showing Chloe resist an akuma, which no character has ever done before. It also revokes Chloe’s miraculous because she revealed her identity and not because she constantly acts like a terrible person.

And, might I add, how convenient it is that Chat Noir goes against the idea of Chloe continuing to be Queen Bee in the season where she gets her miraculous revoked. We had Miss Bustier's lesson which is presented like a good idea in "Zombizou," only for nothing to come of it, then Adrien scolding Marinette in "Malediktator," only for Marinette to take the fall for trusting Chloe in the first place.

The show can't do that. I mean, it can, but only if it wants to look hugely incompetent while doing so. This is even ignoring the fact that Ladybug had already said that Chloe was never getting the bee back. "Miraculer" stated, loud and clear, that Chloe wasn't getting it back, yet Chloe continues thinking that Ladybug is going to give it back to her.

"Miracle Queen" is not Ladybug's fault for not picking Chloe because it was Chloe who didn't listen and continued feeling entitled to the bee miraculous.

Like, first of all, Ladybug is not Chloe's babysitter. It's not Ladybug's job to coddle Chloe and give her what she wants. Had Ladybug given Chloe the bee, Chloe would've just continued believing that the bee miraculous was rightfully hers. It doesn’t matter if Chloe was good for the bee or not; they’re temporary holders and liable to replacement. “Style Queen” almost had Alya as the bee, after all, implying more of a miraculous rotation than one person on one miraculous. Even beyond that, no one who feels entitled to a miraculous should get it back, and Chloe not only falls under that category, but she trusted and liked Ladybug rather than the Miraculous team as a whole; that does not make her a viable team member.

(By the way, the fact that they had to cut the bee signal was a glaring issue; why did they not just have Mayura camp at Chloe's spot to prevent Ladybug from giving her the bee? Chloe could've easily been like, "YOU cut the bee signal because Ladybug would've come for me otherwise!" Having Mayura camp at the hotel while Hawk Moth follows Ladybug ensures the retrieval of the Miracle Box and that Ladybug won't go for Chloe even if she picks the bee. Furthermore, it was utterly pointless anyway because Hawk Moth's plan hinged on having the bee miraculous to bribe Chloe with. It banks on Ladybug grabbing a miraculous that isn't the bee - remember, the miraculous Ladybug took stayed with her to use later - and why would Ladybug care whether the bee signal was up or not? Chloe hangs at the hotel basically all the time.)

Secondly, if the issue is that Ladybug didn’t de-transform, she had no choice. Mayura had lingered around the town before, but Hawk Moth doesn't often go outside aside from the bigger battles. Ladybug knew that she’d lost Mayura and had no idea that Hawk Moth was on her tail. Had she gone somewhere to quickly de-transform, Hawk Moth could’ve either figured out her identity or at least suspected her and followed after her just to confirm, which would’ve outted both Marinette and Fu. Narratively speaking, Marinette could not have made any other choice without the show having to deal with the crisis of Hawk Moth knowing Ladybug’s identity.

Thirdly, even outside of Ladybug potentially choosing the dragon due to wanting to get Kagami away from Adrien, the dragon ended up being the right choice in the end. Ladybug had a plan put together with her Lucky Charm before Hawk Moth de-akumatized Heart Hunter, and she didn’t stutter or seem unsure of herself at all. Kagami is also completely unlike Chloe in that she accepted when Ladybug told her in “Ikari Gozen” that she wasn’t going to get the miraculous back; Kagami was even respectful and greeted Longg politely when they met back up the second time.

Kagami is a legitimately good dragon, and was also the only other miraculous wielder that Ladybug currently knew the location of. Plus, Kagami needed to be taken away by Ladybug anyway because Adrien didn’t know that there was an akuma running loose until Kagami was whisked away to help fight. Had Ladybug chosen Chloe, the team would’ve been short one cat.

(Also, y’know, dragon was the right choice again later because dragon is awesome and was used to create the water shield; as far as I’m concerned, that was Ladybug’s intuition kicking in when she picked dragon.)

Point being, I don’t blame Ladybug for Chloe’s akumatization.

Still, the fact stands that it’s all of this just to make a big deal out of whether Chloe is going to turn good or bad. All of these episodes focusing on Chloe and Chloe’s problems and giving her a sad backstory about her mom not caring about her, just to throw it all away and have her go back to the dark side.

No, I didn’t want Chloe redeemed, but even if she had been, my problem is that so much time was wasted on a bully character when the show had tons of other characters ready and willing to wear a miraculous without feeling entitled to it. We already have a rich white blond character with a sad backstory - Adrien - and he’s the deuteragonist of the show!

The reality is that, wherever Chloe ended up in the end, it never could have been properly satisfying because--

1 - There were too many conflicting messages of Chloe having some good in her and her being outright evil.

2 - It took too long to reach the conclusion of her nonexistent arc. Either it was a tedious exercise in making a Season 3 villain happen or it was a redemption that took so long to happen that people stopped caring about it.

3 - Chloe didn’t have any of the necessary steps that a good redemption arc would require (like actually feeling bad when she bullies someone and appreciating Marinette after Marinette went through so much effort to throw her a party). Miss Bustier didn’t promote giving Chloe actual consequences and even “Miraculer” refused to point out that her being a bad person was part of the problem (Chloe can’t do anything about her identity being revealed, but she could’ve done something about her attitude), which would’ve just made a redemption for her feel hollow and incomplete.

I’d rather have a dropped redemption arc than a failed one (i.e: where she’d get “redeemed” but it was too clumsy getting there), but the fact that we had to deal with episode upon episode of this girl bullying people, treating her “best friend” like trash, and constantly going back to her old ways no matter what happened... it’s infuriating, and wasted time that could’ve gone to characters who needed that screentime.

Another weird thing about it is when Miracle Queen is de-akumatized into Queen Bee. I understand that Chloe is rather childish and probably not thinking clearly, but it just goes to show how little time this two-parter has when, instead of choosing to fight Ladybug with Venom, Queen Bee tries to run away with the box, not even using her spinning top to get away.

Then, almost immediately after being tripped up, Queen Bee basically gives up all of the miraculouses except the bee on the spot, not even trying to keep them out of pure spite for Ladybug. Afterward, all Ladybug has to do it pluck the bee from Queen Bee’s head and it’s over; Chloe didn’t even try to fight back or run from Ladybug.

Heck, even the akumatization itself wasn’t satisfying...

[Satirical Queen]

I never liked mind-control akuma.

Like, ever.

Dark Cupid at least did something by not explicitly mind-controlling and just turning people into evil versions of themselves, but after so many mind-control akumas in this entire show, it gets tiring. Akumatization itself is already a form of mind-control, but it at least leaves a semblance of the original personality sometimes. This is just mind-control on mind-control.

Miracle Queen is just the next typical mind-control akuma, and she’s not even good at it. For starters, the aqua powers were already used in the last finale (as was the butterfly sentimonster but that’s not important, only aggravating) and water is the only place that the bees can’t go. Yes, Ladybug and Chat Noir would eventually be forced to leave the water in order to rescue Fu, but it’s just Queen Wasp all over again with (hive)mind-control instead of paralysis

...and a crown.

It’s also just... boring. Like, really boring, not to mention way too easy.

Hawk Moth gets the Miracle Box by beating up an old man (who basically did nothing but got turned into a ping pong ball), Chloe is literally just handed the miraculous and the Miracle Box, and then Miracle Queen can just call for anyone who’s used a miraculous before.

There’s not even any way to break the mind-control. I’ve talked about this over Princess Fragrance too, but it’s just not fun when there’s no way out besides Miraculous Ladybug, especially when Miracle Queen sweeps the city so quickly and puts almost all of Paris under her control in an instant (and she doesn’t even do anything with the civilians).

When it was just “Heart Hunter,” it was fine because we - as an audience - didn’t know the repercussions of what was happening. For me personally, I thought that the Miracle Box would be reclaimed, Chloe would get her miraculous revoked (...again), no identity reveals would happen, and Marinette would become the new guardian while Fu retires.

Nothing overly dramatic, but Hawk Moth had the miraculouses AND Fu. That was enough. Adding things on made the whole situation feel extremely unrealistic because the amount of effort Hawk Moth put into his plan gave him way more of a reward than he deserved.

He got to see the identity of every hero (Nino could be figured out by process of elimination), essentially forced the guardian to revoke his guardianship (which sounded bad on his end but put Ladybug at a huge disadvantage emotionally and just by virtue of likely not having full training), got the entire translated grimoire, and got to fix the peacock miraculous.

All he did was basically leave his house and everything just fell into his hands.

Even Miracle Queen as an akuma is laughable; Chloe in general is a laughable akuma. Antibug lasted about six and a half minutes, Queen Wasp lasted a pathetic four (her Scarlet akumatization did about double that), and Miracle Queen lasted for ten if you cut out the extra instances of Second Chance.

In order for Chloe to work as an akuma, she can’t be taken head-on. Antibug only lasted as long as she did because Marinette was de-transformed and had to renew her energy after fighting Vanisher. Miracle Queen was the same where she had several people fighting for her; as soon as there was an opening in the water shield leading to her, she was basically done.

A massive issue with Chloe’s akumatizations is that she always ends up sharing the spotlight with someone else, which cuts both her time and threat level.

Scarlet Queen Wasp was basically irrelevant but like--

Antibug had to share her episode with Vanisher,

Queen Wasp had to share her episode with herself (i.e: Queen Bee),

and Miracle Queen couldn’t even get an entire two-parter to herself; Heart Hunter was the akuma in part one and then Miracle Queen brought in her Miraculous Henchmen as soon as she could while she did nothing in the background.

At least in “Mayura,” even though not splitting the akuma up into groups was a mistake (would’ve made the plan look more thought-through and easier to follow visually), Hawk Moth was at least the mastermind of it. Miracle Queen is just Hawk Moth’s lackey, so it’s like getting a downgrade.

And... okay, while I know this doesn’t have anything to do with Miracle Queen’s competency, I have to ask: why didn’t Hawk Moth akumatize the Miracle Box? Why akumatize one superhero’s weapon when he could’ve akumatized the box that contains the things that make the superheroes what they are? Hawk Moth doesn’t try to keep the Miracle Box away from the heroes anyway because Miracle Queen keeps holding onto it, so it’s not like he was trying to protect it from being taken back.

It also would’ve given us potential mind-controlled kwami, which is far more interesting than standard human mind-control. There’s no need for identity reveals if the kwami (who can’t say their holders’ names; Miracle Queen and Hawk Moth would be very frustrated by this) are the ones who deliver the “infected” miraculouses (which then cause mind control) to their holders and possibly force them to transform under Miracle Queen’s command. Heck, maybe it’s a matter of purifying the miraculouses in the light of Ladybug’s yoyo or it being the power of de-transformation that “fixes” them, and it becomes a matter of slowly evening out the playing field as the infected heroes start to switch sides (bonus if Ladybug and Chat are working hard to protect their teammates’ identities so they have to choose wisely and lure the hero to someplace discreet first).

The other reason I’d be for akumatizing the Miracle Box instead is that it means we don’t get a season finale villain that’s just an edit of Queen Bee.

I mean, sure, Miracle Queen is technically the most creative compared to what the original form was, but that’s not saying much of anything, and it leaves “Miracle Queen” with a villain who isn’t even new-looking. It’s just more typical “akumatized miraculous holder that’s supposed to be a crazy special event until you realize that they just turn into recolors and edits of themselves” stuff. The new material in the episode is mainly Dragon Bug and Snake Noir and...

*sigh*

[Bad Things Come to Writers Who wAIT TOO LONG TO DO THEIR JOB]

Remember “Kwamibuster,” where all plots meshed together seamlessly because they were all created by one action (Ms. Mendeleiev seeing the kwami, leading Adrien and Marinette to have to protect their identities, which led to Marinette using a new miraculous to accomplish multiple tasks)?

Yeah, the two-parter doesn’t do this. Fitting the continuation of the romance plot in is coincidence at best and contrived at worst.

For one thing, Luka and Kagami are taken out of the plot as soon as “Miracle Queen” hits. Luka pulls a Chat (i.e: “let me shield this person with my body”) to protect Marinette instead of acting more thoughtfully like in “Captain Hardrock” (the bakery is literally right next to them), which makes no sense because it requires one of the bees to be ahead of all the others, thus stabbing only one of them and giving Marinette time to react to Luka being mind-controlled while also being able to get away. If Luka had demanded that she run and then picked up his guitar or something as a weapon to try and keep the bees away from her for as long as possible, that’d be different, but it just doesn’t seem very “Luka” to shield Marinette like that without doing anything else.

Kagami’s is more believable, but it’s still a matter of one bee being ahead of the others to give Adrien time to react. Adrien could've just been running away and glanced behind him to see Kagami getting mind-controlled.

It’s also a weird trade-off in general. It’s like the writers thought that Viperion appearing in part two made things equal between him and Ryuko despite the fact that Viperion was under mind-control at the time. (I acknowledge that Viperion appeared in “Party Crasher,” but that episode was literally just an excuse to throw all the male heroes together and Viperion didn’t get to do much anyway nor did Luka get any significant screentime.)

It means that both Luka and Kagami have no proper involvement with the plot going on despite the fact that they play a huge role in the romance side of things and the fact that both dragon and snake are used in the battle against Miracle Queen.

At the very least, Miracle Queen could’ve ordered Luka and Kagami (in civilian form) to fight Dragon Bug and Snake Noir, which could’ve led to a realization moment between Marinette and Adrien over just how much they really care about their alternative love interests due to just how unwilling they are to fight them and how much it hurts to see them under enemy control.

For two, I question both Dragon Bug and Snake Noir’s appearance in general. Like, just on Snake Noir, “Desperada” happened in this season and showed that Adrien wasn’t good at using the snake. While it’s totally possible that he was better at it because of the situation change or because he felt more confident having an aggressive miraculous to go with it, it’s jarring seeing him not only use the snake without question, but succeed in using it after failing at the snake so many times before.

(Also, just saying, snake and cat is a terrible combination considering that Cataclysm can destroy miraculouses and the hand used to flick the snake head is the hand that’s used for Cataclysm; the animators clearly noticed this as well and had Chat put the miraculous on the wrist that the turtle miraculous would’ve gone on.)

And while I don’t doubt that Marinette can use the dragon skillfully, it seems like the water shield - and a shield that forces out Miracle Queen at will too - is somehow a power gained by using the dragon and ladybug together, which... doesn’t really make sense? “Water Shield” screams dragon and turtle, not dragon and ladybug. While the yoyo can be spun to be used as a shield, it’s not the same type of shield that Dragon Bug creates. It could’ve been the same disc-shaped shield that the yoyo creates, but just hovering above them and making it rain over the battlefield for protection; Miracle Queen could’ve still been too afraid to intervene since she’s too valuable.

It’s also just a woefully missed opportunity that Luka and Kagami didn’t get to fight alongside Ladybug and Chat because it would’ve been a beautiful team. Chat knows both Ryuko and Viperion’s identities, so it would’ve been a team where Ladybug and Chat have the same information and it really feels even.

Unfortunately, the opening to “Miracle Queen” just summarizes how out of the main plot Luka and Kagami are forced to be. “Heart Hunter” seemed to really care about both of them, giving them sweet moments with their respective love interests (though, granted, I would’ve liked it if Luka was free after riding Marinette to the hotel and joined her in helping, so he got to participate in the fun too; would’ve been amazing as a callback of sorts to “Frozer,” showing how the interactions have changed from way back then), but as soon as “Miracle Queen” kicks in, both Marinette and Adrien recoil from them and watch them get stung by Miracle Queen’s bees soon after. Luka and Kagami go from being a comforting presence in the story to being an afterthought.

And it’s just made more confusing by things that are either dropped or added between the two parts. One would think that Chat’s line about having a girlfriend would come back in "Miracle Queen” (like, he and Kagami actually getting together and him proclaiming cheerfully this time that he really does have a girlfriend), but it’s just there and gone as if the audience needs a reminder (we don’t) that Chat can be really petty with getting Ladybug’s attention. On the opposite end, Luka playing Marinette’s song seems like typical “Captain Hardrock” Luka in “Heart Hunter,” only to turn into some sort of metaphor in “Miracle Queen.” The two parts are just so disjointed compared to the other two-parters, not helped by the fact that previous two-parters maintained focus on one/two akuma (Stoneheart in “Origins” and then Catalyst + Scarlet Moth in “Heroes’ Day”). While “Heart Hunter” and “Miracle Queen” do forward the plot in a significant way, they feel more like “Style Queen” and “Queen Wasp” in terms of execution.

Or, rather the failure in execution, along with both two-parters heavily featuring Chloe.

Speaking of Chloe, actually, the romance plot suffers from the same problem that Chloe’s did; the episodes dedicated to it weren’t given the treatment they needed. In order to save the next step of the romance plot for the finale, the show meandered around the topic, keeping Luka strangely away from Marinette during episodes where it didn’t make sense (”Gamer 2.0″) and having “Ikari Gozen” happen late so the show could dance around the topic of Marinette and Kagami’s relationship (like, just throwing this out there, but it would’ve been nice to have that “we’re friends but I still want Adrien” conversation to happen in another episode).

It’s... yeah, it’s not great. “Heart Hunter” almost succeeded in making the romance plot more relevant to the main plot by having the akuma be love-based (Kagami’s line after the fact almost makes that connection, in fact), but it was ultimately just a piece of Hawk Moth’s plan and not based on anything, like Mayura learning in “Ladybug” that Ladybug already liked another boy. The two-parter ends up feeling more like two stories going on at once and fighting to see whose turn it is, rather than one cohesive plot that ties everything together.

It’s also weird to have the Adrimi ship be in the position it is by the end of “Miracle Queen.” There were multiple episodes showing a significant attraction between Adrien and Kagami, and “Heart Hunter” had Adrien readily leaning in to kiss her and not flirting with Ladybug when Ryuko was around, but then “Miracle Queen” gives completely mixed messages by having Adrien pull away and feel conflicted by the almost kiss, only to then have him lovingly caress Kagami’s cheek by the end of the episode. “Heart Hunter” and the end of “Miracle Queen” scream “ADRIMI IS CANON,” but that one part where Adrien pulls away leaves things in the dark and hurts Kagami’s feelings because Adrien keeps doing all these things with her (HI, “FROZER”) but they don’t go anywhere romantically. It feels like a last-minute change where Adrimi was meant to be an official couple by the end of Season 3, but it was decided against because... I don’t know, they wanted it to be on roughly the same level as Lukanette by then instead?

I have no idea, but it’s a weird decision. “Miracle Queen” is full of weird decisions.

And also, you know, really dumb decisions too.

[Remember to Write (Well)]

So...

Okay, now it’s time to talk about Fu; both Fu in general and “the thing” that happens by the end of “Miracle Queen.”

For Fu in general, ever since he’s been on the run, it’s been a confusing experience figuring out what exactly he’s trying to accomplish. Hawk Moth knows his identity apparently, yet Fu - an old man who can hardly defend himself even while transformed - continues holding onto the Miracle Box, doing odd jobs here and there while Marinette undergoes guardian training...

I presume, anyway, because we literally don’t know. Basically all of Marinette’s training (both concerning the Miracle Box and overall) has been off-screen, and most of Fu’s appearances post-”Feast” were just him handing off miraculouses that Marinette needed.

I say this because Fu could’ve passed on the Miracle Box to Marinette and just visited whenever he needed to train her. Sabine is Chinese, so Fu could've easily struck up a conversation and made friends with her, giving him an excuse to visit.

Would it have stopped Hawk Moth from trying to steal the Miracle Box? Maybe, maybe not, but my point is that a guardian who can’t guard is essentially worthless and just ends up placing a giant target on their head.

In addition, while we don’t know the extent of the other kwami powers outside of the miraculous, I don’t understand why Wayzz didn’t at least try to protect Fu himself. Would the shield have been too large? The only case of a kwami using their powers outside of the miraculous is Plagg, the kwami with possibly the least self-control, and even he managed to save Adrien without destroying the city in the process, so I’m sure Wayzz could do it.

Anyway, even beyond that, I’m stunned that Fu didn’t notice Mayura’s ill state and realize that the peacock miraculous was broken (presuming that he didn’t know it was broken before). It could’ve been a great moment where Fu talks about the dangers of wearing a broken miraculous, then shouting that information to Ladybug and Chat Noir. It would’ve helped in finding Hawk Moth because they’d know to look for those kinds of symptoms (looking at you, Adrien, please get involved here) in order to find the peacock holder. Even if Gabriel still fixed the peacock miraculous in the end, I doubt that the illness just goes away, because that’d mean that Emilie would be alive and kicking by the start of Season 4.

I mean, just in general, if Fu was going to leave by the end of “Miracle Queen” anyway, why not have him and Hawk Moth engage in a battle of wits? If this was going to be Fu’s last stand, why not have Hawk Moth beat him down, taunt him, boast about how he’s a pathetic guardian since he doesn’t have all the miraculouses, then give Fu a single shot at touching the Miracle Box before promptly sending an akuma at it?

Fu doesn’t have to actually get fully akumatized - he can resist it (though considering “Feast,” the man seems terrible under pressure) - but STILL, GIVE ME SOMETHING.

Instead, Fu just kinda... goes out on a whimper. “Origins,” “Syren,” and “Feast” teased Fu’s transformation into Jade Turtle, but when we finally see it, it’s Fu hiding inside Shell-ter for the entire time.

It’s so disappointing. It’s Fu’s last chance to do anything, but in the end, he renounces himself as guardian which does... something, I guess?

Like, let’s just actually look at what happens for a moment.

Miracle Queen is defeated. The mind-control bees that Hawk Moth probably planned to use on Master Fu are gone. The best he can do is either kidnap Fu, use him as a hostage (either of these options being once the shield is down), or continue beating him senseless.

But the heroes can, like, jump. Queen Bee might have the Miracle Box, but she’s not doing anything about it; the kwami aren’t even listening to her because she doesn’t know their names. There’s no reason why Dragon Bug and Snake Noir can’t go up to Hawk Moth and Mayura and take them on face-to-face.

Yeah, Hawk Moth beat them up in “Mayura,” but they’re wielding two miraculouses now. Ladybug also wasn’t afraid to take on the butterfly sentimonster head-on in “Mayura,” so it can’t be that they’re too scared to fight it.

Hawk Moth and Mayura are literally just... chilling on the rooftop. Hawk Moth had to jump up there himself to join Mayura so like--

why not go fight them?

And while Snake Noir dismissing Sass makes sense because Second Chance was already used, Dragon Bug dismissing Longg makes no sense whatsoever.

The dragon still had two powers left in it: wind and lightning. The dragon also seems to give enhanced speed (judging from Ryuko in “Ikari Gozen”), so Dragon Bug can just rush up to everyone and take them on directly.

But instead, Dragon Bug dismisses Longg for no verbally explained reason, thus leaving Ladybug twice as helpless to stop what’s happening. Multimouse handled multiple miraculouses and was just fine, so it can’t be that two miraculouses was too much strain on her (I’ll forgive Chat warning Ladybug about unifying with Longg since he doesn’t know that she was Multimouse).

Furthermore, now that Miracle Queen is de-akumatized, she presumably can’t order around the remaining mind-controlled heroes, yeah? I mean, Queen Bee doesn’t even try and they’re just standing there motionless (Sidenote: this is why Ladybug is actually overpowered in the sense of saving people. It’s one thing to heal the damage an akuma caused, but it’s another thing for basic stuff like mind-control to not wear off unless Ladybug uses Miraculous Ladybug; that’s messed up).

Anyway, Fu is still protected in Shell-ter. Nothing is stopping Ladybug or Chat from grabbing the horse miraculous off of Pegasus, feeding Kaalki, unifying, then teleporting inside of Shell-ter to grab Fu.

Like, there, done, mission accomplished. Now Fu is back with Ladybug and Chat at the very least.

I mean, Fu renouncing the Miracle Box doesn’t even seem to do anything. Yes, it gives the ownership to Ladybug, but Queen Bee doesn’t even try to open it back up and she’s in the same state as before where she has all the miraculouses but doesn’t know the kwami names to use them.

Hawk Moth also seems to know what Fu was doing, and... I don’t know why? Yes, Hawk Moth took the tablet (we’ll get to that soon enough, just you wait) and it has the translated grimoire on it, but we never saw him read it. Like, was he doing some light reading conveniently off-screen?

This show just has a terrible habit of not showing things before they come into play. Queen Bee makes a big deal about the Miracle Box changing, but we don’t know what difference it makes. Hawk Moth and Mayura are apparently too afraid to even try to fight Ladybug and Chat even though both heroes are on a timer already, so my point about them rescuing Fu with the horse stands even stronger (plus, if Viperion and Ryuko had been there, would’ve given reason for Hawk Moth and Mayura to retreat, fearing that they’re outnumbered).

And all this - ALL OF THIS - just so that Fu can get his memory wiped because that’s the “fate of the guardians” apparently; to get their memories erased to protect the secret identities of the heroes.

Like--just...

I have a few questions.

...Sorry, did I say a few?

Because NO, I HAVE MANY, MANY QUESTIONS.

Question number one: Wasn’t Fu the one in “Feast” who said that he was trashing the guardian traditions? If so, why go for the memory wipe at all? Again, it does nothing, we had no idea that Hawk Moth would know to give up on Fu (seriously, a shot of him reading the tablet and taunting Fu about it would’ve sufficed), and the bees were gone, so Hawk Moth had no way of forcing the information out of Fu (that line was so vague, it was irritating; what, is Fu seriously going to give in to a little torture?).

Question number two: Do all guardians throughout all of history do this since Wayzz said it was a rule? How is that efficient, like, at all? What happens if a guardian trains their protege, gives up the box, and that protege dies soon after, leaving no one who would know where the box is? Are there literally guardians in the temple who just know all this guardian knowledge and keep passing it down to other guardians who will never own a Miracle Box because they just need to know it in case the guardians of a specific Miracle Box die or lose the grimoire?

Question number three: Following up on two, what happens if a guardian perishes before they’re able to relinquish the box? What happens to the box? Does ownership go to the next person who touches it?

Question number four: If the guardians’ memories are erased to protect the secret identities of the miraculous holders (according to Wayzz), why does everything else about the miraculouses need to be erased too? Hawk Moth was making a big deal out of using Fu to tell him their identities, but was Fu good for nothing else?? Marianne still presumably knows about all this miraculous stuff and there’s no big deal made about that. Heck, she even seems to know Marinette’s identity too since it was Marinette, not Ladybug, who dropped Fu off at the station.

Question number five: Why do guardians have to erase their memories if there’s no danger involved and they just need to pass down the box due to old age, especially if there’s no one else who knows about them being a guardian? Like, “better safe than sorry” or whatever, but why have a rule that basically forces them to relinquish valuable memories? If their protege is the only one who knows about them being a guardian, it’s not like the guardian would be useful at all since they already trained their protege. Thus, even if their protege went bad, there’s no need to go after the guardian.

Question number six: What if there was something important in those memories? Like, seriously, Fu didn’t even know who Ladybug and Chat were; if Fu went walking around the street not even knowing basic facts about the heroes of Paris, people would deem him senile and put him in a home or something.

Question number seven: Is renouncing the Miracle Box like, the last thing a guardian learns? If not, what’s stopping salty guardian teenagers from constantly renouncing the Miracle Box in hopes that the temple will give up on them? Fu knew about the memory loss, but did he learn it from the grimoire, and if so, where are the hints of him realizing what he’d have to do? He clearly had plans to get back together with Marianne, so what gives?

Question number eight: With how much gets erased when renouncing the Miracle Box, it ends up leaving such a risk of putting the guardian in a state of cruel confusion. Journal entries they can’t explain, pictures of people they can’t remember... it’d be a mess.

Question number WHY: How is it a good system to take people who are basically children, essentially force them to be guardians, have them waste their lives away learning all this stuff they might not even want, and then expect them to follow the rules and not be resentful of the fact that they’re going to lose a giant chunk of their memories when they pass the box down? If you ask me, that’s just begging for villains to happen.

And this whole memory loss nonsense is just character death in disguise. Fu has vague feelings towards people like Marianne and that’s it; he has no memories of even the love of his life.

It’s a cheap excuse for ANGST and nothing more. It’s supposed to be the big tear-jerker of the episode yet I’m too busy seething at how utterly lazy and stupid it is.

Like, for something that’s supposed to be so magical or whatever, the actual memory loss process is extremely basic. There is no reason for the memories to be completely erased when they could just as easily be adjusted.

For example: instead of Fu remembering Ladybug coming to him for miraculouses, he remembers her coming to him to ask if he’s okay since there’s an akuma on the loose. Instead of Fu remembering talking to Marianne about miraculouses over tea... he just remembers having a pleasant conversation with her over tea.

But instead, the Miracle Box - apparently the laziest magical object in the universe - just erases the memories completely and leaves only the strongest feelings behind, casually having Fu forget all the terrible things he did and all the lessons he learned because of those things.

Oh, oh, oh, and then there’s the tablet that Hawk Moth and Mayura stole. The one with all the grimoire information on it.

Did Fu seriously not have any security on that tablet? Like, at all? If we’re going off the logic that Hawk Moth knew what renouncing the box meant because he read about it, I can only imagine the look on his and Mayura’s faces when they expected to have to do some serious hacking, only for the tablet to open right up and them to be like, “Oh, that was way easier than we thought.”

Nathalie even said right at the end of the episode that the tablet had the method to fix the peacock in it, so they must’ve already read through it (because, with just knowing that the grimoire is on it, there was no guarantee that the miraculous-fixing method would be in it).

And this episode leaves so many things vague that we don’t even know if Marinette has any of that information. As stated before, we never even saw Fu train her to be guardian.

Does she know the grimoire by heart? Did Fu email her all the data just in case something like this happened? Fu was even the one to give her the potions, so what happens when her supply of macarons and cheese run out?

Outside of Nathalie mentioning that they have the translated grimoire, the episode just leaves us hanging. Just like how “Mayura” ignored Marinette and Fu talking about the peacock being active now, this episode ignores all the things we should be aware of so we know exactly how screwed the heroes are going to be starting next season.

It’s not leaving us in suspense; it’s leaving us questioning things that we should already know.

“Miracle Queen” fails as a follow-up to “Heart Hunter” because, instead of building on the things that “Heart Hunter” chose, it dumps every single thing it can think of onto its audience while leaving no time to explain any of them.

Adrien pulled away from Kagami’s kiss, but the endcard implies that he’s still going forward with his crush on her over Ladybug despite there being no discussion on this at all. Where is the turning point of Chat deciding to give up on Ladybug even though he wasn’t ready for Kagami?

All the heroes got their identities revealed, but what does that really mean anymore? Mayura can’t camp at everyone’s houses waiting for Ladybug to throw them a miraculous. Also, it was Chloe who did this in the first place, so is there any evidence or hints that there will be repercussions for her actions outside of getting her miraculous revoked yet again?

Hawk Moth has the grimoire, but even though Marinette’s first thought should be on it because she’s guardian now, we have no idea how much she knows or even if Fu had a backup plan for something like this happening.

Ultimately, Fu losing his memory was for shock value. That’s why it was never discussed even in the episode itself until it happened, and if angst needs that shock value to touch its audience’s hearts, it’s not doing its job.

Oh, and let’s not forget the effect this has on Marinette.

[Fool’s Marigold]

...I’m baffled.

Just... truly, honestly baffled.

I’ve been doing critiques of so many episodes of Season 3 because, honestly, most of them torment Marinette in someway, but...

Geez, if this isn’t just a culmination of all the misery she’s been through, put in a blender and set to ‘high’...

Let’s begin with “Heart Hunter;” specifically, how the episode throws blame on Ladybug for not de-transforming. Outside of, again, Ladybug really having no choice narratively (because Hawk Moth was following her and really, how was she supposed to know that when there was nothing out of the ordinary with that akuma?), it’s just ridiculous to toss even more stuff for Marinette to fret over.

Marinette has already been through more than enough this season, and there was build-up for Fu to be the one to make the mistake instead.

Like, Fu has a history of not trusting Ladybug. There’s “Feast” and also “Kwamibuster” where Fu is doubtful of Marinette’s capabilities while Wayzz has to be the voice of reason. The exception is “Queen Wasp,” but since that’s in Season 2, one could argue that something made Fu nervous about trusting Marinette (perhaps “Malediktator”? Marinette was convinced by others to give Chloe another chance, but Fu doesn’t know that).

Even in "Heart Hunter” itself, Fu questions Ladybug’s choice in the dragon. Like, yes, Ladybug may be choosing it for reasons outside of the akuma, but again, dragon ended up being a good pick in the end and Marinette has almost never failed before, so what right does Fu have to ask?

Anyway, point being, it could’ve been a matter of Fu being too anxious - too nervous about Ladybug’s capabilities - and he ends up leaving his hiding spot (maybe believing that dragon was the wrong choice), which then allows Hawk Moth to swoop in and swipe the box.

I mean, hey, if Fu’s going to just forget everything anyway, why does it matter what mistake he makes? Marinette can still blame herself for it and there could even be a lesson about thinking things through and not blaming oneself for everything (A LESSON THAT MARINETTE DESPERATELY NEEDS).

And this is basically the moment that sets everything else in motion; Ladybug accidentally leading Hawk Moth to Fu is the moment that causes all the identities to be revealed (excluding Ladybug and Chat Noir’s) and causes Master Fu to both lose his memory and make Marinette the new guardian.

It’s extreme, and--like--look. Regardless of how much Ladybug is at fault, the punishment given for it is far too severe for such a small error. Had this been almost any other episode where Ladybug went to Master Fu, there would’ve been no issues with Ladybug forgetting to de-transform.

The fact of the matter is that Ladybug is a 14-year-old girl who just gave up the person she saw as the love of her life to someone else, and even when she was trying to have a good cry about it, it’s almost immediately interrupted by Heart Hunter showing up and forcing her into action. Then, while she was heading towards Fu to get a miraculous, the show found it necessary to have her coincidentally swing by the exact two people that she didn’t want to see, throwing her off entirely. 

After seeing that Fu is no longer around, she finally gets to break down and be comforted by someone who actually knows what to say to her, but her quiet moment is interrupted yet again by an akuma.

She just finished having a breakdown, and it was already time for her to swing back into action after watching as the person who comforted her got mind-controlled because he protected her.

I could really go on and on about all the mental stress Marinette goes through in Season 3 alone, but the point is that needlessly guilting Marinette when she already has the weight of Paris on her shoulders isn’t constructive.

It’s sadistic, only serving to pile on the angst and make Marinette miserable. She has a total of four moments where she’s either breaking down or about to break down, which is insane for a proper story but also completely understandable with everything she’s going through.

The breakdown in which Luka was comforting her was the closest thing to dignity she got, but she’s not able to vent to Luka about what the actual problem is, so when she sees how bad everything really is, of course she breaks down again.

But... well, Chat...

Chat is bad at it. Like, really bad at it.

The episode tries to present both of Chat’s comfortings as touching, but they both fail and fail hard.

The first time, Ladybug is venting about what happened and how she forgot to de-transform, apologizing and calling herself a failure. Chat’s response, essentially, is to remind her of their current mission, tell her how they need her focused.for it, and to request that she just forget about it for the moment.

The second time, Ladybug is freaking out about how she can’t figure out the Lucky Charm, apologizing again and calling herself useless. Chat’s response this time is to first tell her to focus, then simply place his hands on her shoulders and say, “Ladybug, no.”

Neither of his comfortings involved him telling her that she either wasn’t a failure and/or wasn’t useless.

And just by the way, I have a serious bone to pick with that Lucky Charm she summoned. This somewhat correlates with what I was saying about shock value, but why would Fu keep that key with him? Why wouldn’t he give it to Marinette at the very end of “Feast” and go, “if something happens to me, you’ll need this”? It’s banking on Ladybug either summoning the key as her Lucky Charm (and Fu recognizing it, because apparently he can’t remember the woman he shared his guardian secrets with but he can remember that he has a key to a locker that contains the thing he kept the Miracle Box in), or that Marinette/Ladybug happens to be there when this happens to him and he happens to have just the right prompting to give her the key in the first place.

And for another thing, the Lucky Charm is just another excuse for Ladybug to freak out and self-deprecate. Of course Ladybug would have no idea what to do with it; she doesn’t even know what it’s for, which is something no other Lucky Charm has been established to do.

Now, if the Lucky Charm had been seen by Fu, giving him the realization that he needs to renounce the Miracle Box, that’d be different, but that’s not what happens. Instead, Ladybug is looking around frantically for a way to make a Lucky Charm work when it’s not supposed to work, and either way, Fu had no way of knowing that she’d hold onto it long enough for his amnesiac self to see it and know what it was.

And Ladybug clearly didn’t know about the memory erasure. Hawk Moth and the kwami were the ones to react to Fu preparing to renounce the Miracle Box.

This means that Marinette has been training to become guardian with no knowledge of eventually having to give up her memories. Unless Fu had a plan (perhaps involving the box being revoked to Ladybug instead of Marinette, but in the moment, it seems more like something that just made sense for the sake of protecting her identity), he essentially gave Marinette no warning about this when he started training her, subjecting her to the same fate that he didn’t want himself.

And this just furthers the idea that Ladybug isn't allowed to feel anything because the slightest missteps end up causing disastrous consequences. Marinette has to constantly bottle up and suppress how she feels because it means either getting akumatized or the universe fighting back against her, which just leads to her feeling more emotional down the line because that way of thinking is unhealthy no matter how necessary it might be for her to do her job.

Now, if I were Marinette, the FIRST question I would have after becoming guardian is if I'll have to erase my memories too, but we all know that it'll either never be addressed or come out of nowhere if/when Marinette has to renounce the Miracle Box herself.

And while I feel terrible for the poor girl, she doesn't deserve to have all of those memories scrubbed away when there are valuable memories in there. It's sad that she's going through this, but it'd be sadder for her to be forced to let go of memories that she might want to hold onto.

Not to mention, it's all this just because she was hurt that she had to let go of the person she loved. Fu even acknowledges it as her mistake without putting any semblance of blame on himself, so the plot clearly blames Ladybug for this.

Because of her, the identities of all her temporary heroes became known to Hawk Moth.

Because of her, Hawk Moth has the translated grimoire that she might not even have herself.

Because of her, Fu renounced the Miracle Box and gave up his memories in the process (oh, and of course they have to add in a line where he says that he'll never forget about her; twist the knife even more, why don't you?).

Because of her, she now has the role of guardian and has to keep the miraculouses protected. She was sobbing in "Heart Hunter" over all the responsibilities she had and how she couldn't be who she truly was, and the show's apparent solution to that is to give her more responsibilities and take away the one person who knew her secret,

Because, let's be honest, Marinette can't talk to Marianne about this. It's apparently all Marinette's fault that this happened, so Marinette can hardly throw any of her troubles at her when this whole situation caused the man Marianne loved to forget about her.

And Tikki doesn't even do anything. Even when Marinette is all alone, reading Fu's letter, Tikki doesn't come out to offer comfort or just generally be there for her holder. The show chose to have Tikki do nothing while even more weight is being put on Marinette's shoulders. Yeah, maybe Tikki is busy mourning the loss of Fu, but we don't know because they didn't show it.

And just thinking about it, the show literally punished Marinette for doing the right thing.

All throughout the series, Marinette has been repeatedly punished for trying to make progress in her life. Attempts to drop Adrien as a crush led to her friends arguing about it, and attempts to confess to Adrien either ended in failure or embarrassment. Her being happy that Chloe was gone led to a scolding from Adrien, and when she tries to give Chloe a chance, it doesn't work out for her. When she then tries to respectfully revoke Chloe's miraculous, she gets stabbed in the back by Chloe allowing herself to be akumatized so the identities of the temporary holders can be revealed. When she tries to out Lila, she's yelled at and told by Adrien not to do anything, eventually leading to her expulsion that was only reversed because Adrien did just enough to get Lila to undo the damage.

Marinette knew that Adrien had feelings for someone that wasn't her; he told her as much. She recognized that Adrien and Kagami had a bond and decided to let them be together because it was the right thing to do.

And she was punished for it. She was punished for having a reaction; for having feelings.

We don't know what Season 4 holds for her, but judging from how she's treated in Season 3, it can't be anything good.

Buckle up, people.

[tinayoufatlarrdd]

She

Frankly, they didn’t start on the best term.

He met Y/N during a photoshoot for a certain famous magazine. She was assigned to grace the cover of said magazine with the photograph of the world’s most it couple, Harry Styles and the supermodel who gained the universal acclaim for ‘taming the baby Mick Jagger’.

It was all fun and pretty until Y/N accidentally stepped on the girlfriend’s polished toes.

“For fuck’s sake!” Harry screamed at Y/N as the supermodel girlfriend suddenly started limping her way to Harry, asking for some sort of first aid.

Y/N couldn’t stop muttering sorry, offering ice blocks, even kneeling next to the supermodel girlfriend begging for forgiveness. The creative director, the crew, the editors—the whole studio apologized countless times for the tiny slip as the girlfriend pouted, complaining about the unbearable pain, causing Harry to hit the ceiling.

He yelled at Y/N and refused to go on. Y/N, knowing her inferior position in the equation, could only look down as the apologies continuously rolled out of her tongue. To be fair, everyone in the studio (except the lovebirds, obviously) knew it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Y/N was capturing Harry’s solo session while the girlfriend fixed the hair and makeup. She was up next for her solo session and then it’s a wrap. Of course the photographer would move around; every supermodel should be aware of the fact that angles were plenty and it took treads to actually find the right ones. Y/N was constantly moving, camera on hand, eyes on the viewfinder, then suddenly the ‘big accident’ occurred.

Y/N was barefooted, she wouldn’t even be able to squeeze a hard turd if she ever stepped on one with that wonky heel of hers. There was no way she’d had caused the girlfriend that much pain. And nobody blamed Y/N as they all witnessed how the girlfriend walked on set with her eyes on the phone, hitting Y/N first. Nobody but the girlfriend and Harry Styles, of course. So they all just watched in silence as Harry cursed and threw a fit on innocent Y/N.

The power couple didn’t want to continue unless Y/N was replaced. The crew had to comply no matter how irrational the demand sounded. And on top of that, suddenly Y/N was plastered on the internet as the girl who assaulted the world’s biggest supermodel and Harry Styles.

She would never forget the overwhelming uneasiness caused by the sudden rave of negative reviews about her, all from people who endorsed and supported her in the first place but decided to be the footnote of the Hollywood sweethearts’ testimony: ‘awful to work with’, ‘nothing without the connection’, ‘a mediocre photographer who got lucky’, and ‘talentless’.

And she still couldn’t wrap her mind around that dreaded event. She had heard tremendous chivalry and gentlemanlike attitude when it came to Harry Styles yet somehow, he was nothing but a certified dick who put her job on the line that day. Some friends who remained loyal to her speculated that the girlfriend was the bad influence. Some even were convinced that he was voodooed. She didn’t care about either, all she believed was that he’s an absolute wretch with an extraordinarily thick mask. A media trained monkey was the term she occasionally used after a few tequila shots.

“That witch is his Yoko Ono, I tell ya,” the creative director told her during their final meeting—the meeting to let her go, of course.

She just shrugged. All she wanted was her old life back. And if Harry Styles and/or that supermodel got into some terrible misery in that comeback, that would definitely be her cherry on top.

She still got a few gigs, just not as much and definitely not with big profiles like she used to. For Pete’s sake, she was deemed a promising photographer by those fashion executives! She was only getting started. She would have never imagined that with just a short answer during a talk show’s truth or dare game—who’s the one person you’d never want to work with ever again?—the power couple could diminish her entire life’s worth of hard work.

Within the next few months, she’s back to square one. Every morning she tried to contact some old clients who would perhaps still deign to be affiliated with, according to the world’s biggest supermodel’s words on that talk show, ‘the rudest effin’ bitch I’ve ever seen in the industry’.

And after countless unsuccessful attempts, she went back to the cafe she used to work at when she’s still starting her career, not to network like she used to but to pour some coffee for other people again. She’s back with the apron and the napkin and she couldn’t stop being cynical over some hopeful youngsters who got signed right in front of her eyes, on the table she just wiped.

Her cameras were laid unused on top of her rack and the mini darkroom she built in her apartment became a storage room. Believing she had failed miserably in life, she found herself no longer had hopes on anything. All she knew was to get by the day.

It was a cold December night. Everyone else went home to celebrate the holidays so she decided to do the shift. She’d be paid double plus she wouldn’t have to face her family, which would go eerie in this state of her life, so it was the better choice.

Having had just finished cleaning the whole cafe, she put on her coat. She was ready to come home to… nothing. Her mind raced back to this time last year, where she was fully booked and couldn’t wait to come home so she could recharge herself for an exciting tomorrow. Her life had become exceptionally dull and it was painful to go on.

An abrupt banging on the door halted her train of desperate thoughts.

“We’re closed. Can’t you see the time?! It’s almost midnight!” she snarked, back facing the intruder.

“S- Sorry, love…” the hoarse voice was paused with a couple of hiccups. “‘m just completely devastated…”

She rolled her eyes as she turned around and she almost had a heart attack. There stood the man who destroyed her life, terribly wasted out of his mind. He could barely stand straight without holding onto the doorknob.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she rolled her eyes, asking some deity entity if there was ever one.

“Hey! I know yeh…” Harry tried to get to her but his legs just gave up.

Falling face first, Y/N really wanted to leave him on the street. But of course she had that little voice of reason inside her that constantly screamed, “If you abandon him, you’re nothing better than him!” She was a decent person and she really hated it this time.

“Come on up,” she pulled Harry up and lingered his arm around her shoulder to help him walk. “Where do you live?”

“I don’t k- know,” he giggled. “I can’t remember, love…”

“Try,” she slapped his arm when he almost fell off yet again.

The snow was pouring down and they stood by the empty crossroad. Harry wouldn’t even remember his own name by now and she didn’t know how to get to his house. There was no other choice than to bring him home to her place.

It was nothing short of hard work to carry a man twice her size to her house on foot since there was not even a single cab around. It was even harder to hear him tell a story about his first imaginary friend during that wobbly trip where he tumbled more than five times and she had to pick him up every time. But it was the hardest when she had to take off his shoes so it wouldn’t mess with her couch—he didn’t want to take it off, nagging her with numerous ‘Go away, Mum!’s.

When she finally got to lay on her bed, she was too tired to even think of what just happened. She literally did some cardio workout bringing Harry home safe so unlike her usual nights, she fell asleep quite fast this time.

It was around four in the morning when she felt a body of weight sunk into her side. She turned around to face his uninvited guest sound asleep, legs tangled over hers like a knot. She quietly removed her legs and tried to get up. She needed to move to the couch, or anywhere far away from this invader.

This is my fucking house, why am I the one sleeping outside, she thought to herself. Anger boiling at the top of her head as her movement was stopped by his strong hand.

“Stay here…” he slurs.

He didn’t seem conscious to her. Maybe he mistook her as his girlfriend.

“I’m not—“

“I know,” he cut her off while still sleeping. “Just stay here for a while. It’s cold out there.”

She sighed and laid back down. Stiff and uncomfortable, but obviously exhausted, she closed her eyes as Harry’s arm pulled her closer to him. She could only hope the night would soon end or better yet, this was all not real.

When Harry woke up, he found a sticky note on his forehead.

‘You were hammered last night, didn’t know where you live so I took you home. Nothing happened, you just sorta burst into where I work around midnight so I kind of had to not abandon you. Don’t make yourself at home because this is my home.’

He couldn’t remember anything. He remembered getting blind drunk after gulping those spirit shots but what happened after that was redacted. His surrounding was unfamiliar and there was no other sign of life other than him that morning.

After splashing his face with cold water, he looked around the apartment. It was modest but very personal. There were random film rolls hung by the ceiling as Harry made his way to the living room. He put on his shoes by the couch as he observed the vinyl shelf at the corner of the room. It was filled with 60s-70s biggest musicians, from Jimi Hendrix to Van Morrison—which grew his curiosity of the owner. There were books that he also read, and the series of psychedelic photographs framed by the doorway was the biggest tic that made him wonder: how did he end up in this hippie’s safe haven, one that he actually wanted to live in when he was young? Did he get so hammered that he traveled back in time? His head hurt too bad to even think of the possibilities, all he knew was there was something about the owner that felt familiar and he ought to know them. He had to.

Harry rushed to shower at his home and got some aspirin. After running some overdue errands, he immediately went back to the apartment. He knocked on the door a few times to no avail so he decided to wait by his car outside.

Y/N was relieved when there was no sign of Harry when she got home that night. She would be lying if she wasn’t a tad bit worried of him considering he could absolutely die that night if he went to the wrong place, but then again he was the guy who ended her career so she couldn’t care less.

She picked Nick Drake’s Pink Moon from her vinyl collection and put it on the turntable. Relaxing by the couch that still reeked of alcohol and him, she ignored the constant knock on the door. It was usually her crazy neighbor looking for his nonexistent cat.

It was the sixth track that she finally got up and opened the door, hoping to end the annoyance of her peaceful evening.

Her eyes bugged out when she saw the figure by her door. It was him again.

Harry, with his furrowed eyebrows and lanky feet, looked just as surprised as she was. He clearly remembered who she was and somehow, not even Nick Drake’s soothing voice could calm her down. Filled with rage, she slammed the door right in front of his face.

Harry was shocked to see her. He’d never thought in a million years that he’d ever meet her again, moreover lodged by her. He wanted to thank her but he knew she’d probably throw a glass of water to his face. But he could not just leave.

So he did the tackiest trick in the book. When the track from behind the closed door hit Free Ride, one of his favourites, he began singing along as loud as possible. Some neighbors shushed him, some even scolded him but he didn’t stop.

She heard him loud and clear. She ignored him at first, but then she received a noise complaint call from the super. Upset, she thumped her way towards the door.

“Stop it!” she gritted her teeth as she opened it.

He stopped. “May I come in?”

“What do you want?” she barked.

“Just wanted to say thanks,” he muttered low.

“You’re welcome. There,” she slammed the door again.

There was nothing he could do so he decided to leave for now.

He came again the next day, this time saying there was something he needed to give back to her.

“What now?” she wasn’t as upset as the day before, but was still unfriendly as they just stood by the door leaf.

Harry handed her the sticky note she left on his forehead the day before.

“You can keep it,” she said as she closed the door.

No slamming door. A progress, Harry thought.

He came back again two days after that, carrying a limited release Fleetwood Mac record signed by Stevie Nicks herself.

“Got Stevie to sign it. They don’t have this at the stores anymore,” he presented it as if he was doing some product placement scene.

“Look, Harry Styles,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t even know what the hell do you want from me but I really don’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. You’ve done enough.”

“Yes, about that…” Harry scratched his forehead. “’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” she pushed the door but Harry was quick to hold it open.

“I’d help you make things right again,” his green eyes were desperate for her answer.

She let out a heavy sigh and moved aside as if cuing him to enter her little bubble. Harry entered immediately, not wanting to waste any more time in the outside world.

She was listening to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon, to which Harry sang along gently. She could hate him all she wanted but he really sounded divine especially within close proximity.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, anyway?” she sat on the far end of the couch.

He put the record on the coffee table. “Where, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Some talk show to say some shit about me with the girlfriend perhaps?”

“Look ‘m really sorry, I truly am,” he sighed. “And ‘m not with her anymore…”

He then explained everything. How he fell in love for the first time in his life with the supermodel who was perfect, beautiful, smart, and everything he’d ever dreamed of. How he was so sure of her but she didn’t feel the same so he tried to show it with everything he’s got—grand romantic gestures, going public (which was personally hard for him since he was a very private person), and siding with her on every kind of problem even if it meant hauling over an innocent photographer’s coals. He also explained how he felt awful most of the time since he’d changed so much for a person who didn’t even love him back and he began to feel lost. It all then culminated a couple nights ago when she decided that it was all still not enough and broke up with him over a phone call. That’s when he went crazy with the liquor and ended up wandering around.

She felt sorry for him and although she knew he could be lying, she could understand his pain. So, she decided to accept his apology. She knew it wouldn’t change anything for her but at least she wouldn’t have to carry around so much hatred in her life and he could also move on with his life, not haunted by the guilt.

He promised to help her gain her reputation back. The two planned to make some exclusive photoshoot of Harry himself.

They began meeting every now and then. At first, they would talk about all things professional and did photoshoots. She started receiving positive feedbacks especially after Harry gave her the shoutouts—it didn’t take a split second for his loyal fans to swarm her online profiles. With her raising popularity she started getting bigger gigs again, even bigger than her old gigs. She quit working at the cafe and her darkroom was occupied yet again.

Then, they would spend even more time together. He would make up excuses to meet with her, like he needed to see how she developed her rolls or coming by with a batch of eggs saying he was worried she ran out of eggs. Y/N knew Harry was just feeling lonely after the breakup so she always let him in. Nobody wants to hurt alone, she always thought.

He soon didn’t need any more excuses as he had become an extended roommate of hers. He always said he wanted to live in the 70s and her apartment was like a dream home for him. She just brushed it off, saying it’s because of her hidden interior designing talent. And with each passing day, as they grew closer, her hatred dissipated and was replaced with something strange yet pleasant inside her heart.

She learned the depths of him that no one else knew and it all became the little things only she understood. She felt privileged to gain the limited access.

Sometimes he’d show her the sneak peak of his newest song and she would give notes as she watered the many plants around her place. Sometimes they would play board games while discussing the possibility of living on Mars. Some other times, Harry would lay his head on her legs, not saying a word while Karen Dalton’s magnificent voice filled the air.

Her favourite moment with him had to be when they did the impromptu picnic under the stars. With a bottle of cheap wine, portable turntable, and shared blanket, they laid by the garden as they talked about their fears and desires. That was the first time in such a long time she could open up to someone and he said that made him feel so special.

Of course he was special to her. That’s why she still tiptoed around him from time to time, avoiding conversations like her love life because she didn’t want him to think that she’d like him when actually the growing feelings inside her heart had begun to suffocate her.

The way he spontaneously baked for her (and snobbishly told the infamous ‘I was a baker’ story), the way he laughed at her jokes, the way his eyes sparked when they were dancing around, the way he snored a little when he’s sleeping, the way he called her name—she wanted to just sink herself into his warmth and never let go.

Yet she couldn’t help but wonder whether he felt the same way too. The frequency of the supermodel’s name mentioned in their conversations has since reduced to almost never, but she still felt a sting in her heart as she knew she could never replace her. She was, after all, his first love. And don’t get her started on the physical prowess which she obviously lacked in compared to the supermodel. She didn’t dare to ask Harry whether he’s really forgotten about her, afraid that he’d find out her true feelings for him. So she remained the same. At least, he would be still by her side.

At least, there would never be any rejections.

The city was already blossoming when she realized that Harry had left traces of himself on every corner of her place. The hung film rolls were filled with his silly expressions, so was the polaroid collections stuck on her walls. He had installed a pile of pants by the corner of her living room so that he didn’t have to bring any change. And of course her bathroom now had a pair of tooth brushes. It rocketed her hopes but still, her doubts crept inside her mind every so often.

That lazy Saturday night, she went home from grocery shopping to find Harry asleep on her couch. He looked so soft and warm and she couldn’t help but to run her fingers through his smooth hair. She nervously came closer to his face and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead.

She got up immediately, afraid to wake him up. To her surprise, he suddenly grabbed her arm.

“What was that for, love?” he asked.

He didn’t even have the bed face he usually had, which led her to believe that he wasn’t really asleep.

“Were you pretending to be asleep?” she pulled away.

Harry stood up just as fast and within seconds, he wrapped her in his hug. He placed a kiss on top of her head and slowly traveled down to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. His lips roamed over hers as he slowly pressed them. It wasn’t heated and full of lust but rather deep and passionate as if he was taking his time.

It didn’t take long before they made their way to the bedroom and undressed each other with no rush. There was no spoken words, no roughness, just two people tangled up in heated infatuation.

When she woke up, he was still there. And it was beautiful.

It was still beautiful the next few months when they became a couple. He was her world and everything else was just background noise. He made her feel like the only person that mattered, as if everything that happened before ‘them’ was unreal. That this was the only real thing and it was all too good to be true.

Y/N should know better though, that life came just like a full circle. She just didn’t expect to actually be put back into the circle so soon.

They were invited to an afterparty of a fashion line Harry was strongly tied to and Y/N was more than proud to be by his side when he was introduced to be the muse that season. He was having the time of his life and so was she. The two held hands the entire time as they talked to everyone.

The belle of the ball, Harry himself seemed overwhelmed with the amount of love he received. He occasionally pressed her hand a little tighter when he was nervous, to which she’d respond with stroking his hand with her thumb. The simplest gestures that they’d developed overtime as they grew accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies or as Harry said, the good stuff about you.

That was until he saw a glimpse of her in the middle of the crowd that he suddenly let go of Y/N’s hand as if he was afraid that she would see him with Y/N. It would have been a little over a year since she last saw the supermodel and almost a year since Harry last met her.

All this time, Harry constantly convinced her that her insecurities over his love was nothing, that he only wanted her. And yet, he never even said those three words to her.

She knew now why he never did.

All this time, it wasn’t doubt that kept haunting her. It was a hunch.

The music was blasting but for Y/N, everything was silence. It only took a few seconds before she realized the look in Harry’s eyes. As if it was never truly her his eyes set on. That she was just a company to pass time. That she was the one he wanted just never loved.

She was never the one.

She tried to grab his hand before he’d be gone for good, and could only let out a faint ‘Please, don’t.’

But he could only mutter a little ‘Sorry.’ as he let go of her grasp and made his way through the crowd, trying to get to her, while leaving Y/N drowning in the sea of human who celebrated the man that she loved.

Part two.

Part three.

[takemybodynotmysoul]

plotttttt

You and Berry go to the lake in order to try to catch the legendary Pokémon. You meet Prof. and Dawn, and just like in Diamond, they leave their case.

Then, Cyrus appears out of there. Saves you from some wild Pokémon and choose a starter. His attire his much more science-like, and the team is not called Team Galactic, but Galaxy Corporation. 

Then, we get a cutscene of going back to your house to tell your mother about what happened, and Giratina is seen on the reflection on the lake. 

You get to Sandgem Town, and notify Dawn/Lucas and Rowan about everything. You get the starter you received, and then get to name it

Side note: Rowan has been tweaked slightly, and he is written as a much more grumpy character, and Dawn/Lucas is his grandchild, who is unsure about what they want to with their lives. They will be your secondary rival.

By the way, there are three Pokédex entries for each Pokémon in The New Pokémon Platinum. You will be able to unlock them if you catch a certain amount of Pokémon, and for the first time in the series, completing the Pokédex has actual consequences. As you complete it, you will find brand new Pokémon habitats in both Snadgem and Twinleaf town, that the Professor was able to construct thanks to the data you collected.

So, you start your journey. By the way, THERE IS NO MANDATORY CATCHING TUTORIAL. A slide will pop on the screen, and if you are interested in the catching tutorial, it will indicate you to talk to Lucas/Dawn.

_______________________________________________________

There are no changes in the camera angle when encountering important characters, only normal angle (from behind) and full-on cutscenes.

In Jubilife City, you will be acquainted with Looker. It’s not as tedious as the originals, the dialogue is quick and you are only warned of shady people. You are given the VS. Recorder by Dawn, and then you can have your battle with Barry by the school. The clown-clock situation is completely optional, and will fuction by popping on the right side of the screen.

On the route on your way to Orebough City, you will find a static Shroomish that is there to start the Mew event that will be distributed in the game’s release.

Once upon arrival, a kid will point to the gym, but not force you to get there. You are still supposed to find Roark by the mine, and once you get there you will see that it has been expanded. After getting the badge, the new ways TM’s work will be explained: one needs a rock type Pokémon that knows a rock type move to break down the boulders, and once you break them, they will STAY broken.

After getting the badge, you will be explained (by Dawn/Lucas, after a battle) how the side-missions go. They are little missions you can take part in, and after completing them, you will either be given an Egg of a Pokémon that cannot be found in the wild, or that are from another region. There are, at the very least, five of them to do in every town. They are not big, but they will 100% expand on the region and offer some extra events with the Galactic corporation.

When leaving Jubilife to get to Eterna City, there is an event with some scientists like from the GC (Galaxy Corporation) get confronted because they are exploiting a Magnemite on the street. This event helps begin to explain how they work, much more differently than they did in the OG’s.

Basically, they are a scientific corporation that works in the region and has, overall, a pretty bad reputation: they tend to overwork their employees, as well as receive complaints because they bother the wild Pokémon. Cyrus is their leader, and his fascination with Giratina and the others is tweaked to seem much more believable and much less end-of-the-world type of ordeal. 

Giratina senses Cyrus is one fascinated with Myth, and tries too hard to find out the truth behind everything. His passion for history is borderline insane, and he has, like previously mentioned, a pretty nasty reputation. He will put anything at risk if it means getting the data he needs, his research is more important to him than anything else.

Giratina, as we all know, was banished to the DW by Arceus, and it begins to sense that Cyrus is its way out. What better way to get out of the DW than have a clearly unstable man try to break you out of it? Therefore, it starts to show itself on mirrors or reflective surfaces, which greatly affects Cyrus’ mental health, making him believe he is either insane or chosen.

His ultimate goal is to get the legendaries, Palkia and Dialga, to open the world and let him be the one to explore the Distorsion World. So, he must find a way to get the Red Chain. Therefore, he starts to hunt the Lake Trio.

He is, however, not written to be completely insane. He is manipulated by the brand new antagonist of the game (inspired by the anime) Hunter J. She’s a merciless hunter that sells Pokémon to an association that hides in the Battle Frontier. In the encounters with officer Jenny, she’ll mention how they have been suspecting her for a while, but her status as a Frontier Brain is too powerful, plus, they do not have any substantial leads.

She is aware of how twisted Cyrus’ plans are, and she is the one to push him over the edge:

After you save the old man’s Clefairy from the Eterna building, she will convince Cyrus that the only way to get what he wants is to go after it. From that moment on, the GC work together with her and they start to become more of a criminal organization, as they are escorted out of their numerous headquarters, but not arrested.

Obviously, J isn’t stupid, she’s just using Cyrus to find legendary Pokémon and then sell them. She is far mroe antagonistic, and meets her demise at the DW, when she her trusty Salamance gets tired of her and lets her falls into the deep end.

She is the one to move the plot along, alongside the commanders. She is the one to set off bombs on two of the lakes, and you fight her several times.

Some important information that will be expande upon later on is tht, after Gardenia’s badge, you can go anywhere you want to in Sinnoh except for Canalave City and Snowpoint (including the brand new cities of Alamos, Hillwater, Greenstation and Senders Town). The only roadblocks are ones you can get rid of with TM’s no ‘YOU CAN’T PASS’ nonsense. The only one that is kind of like that is, actually, not annoying at all. You are unable to get to Celestic Town before badge number 6 so, after you do, to make sure that you do not skip the event with Cynthia’s grandmother, they add Whirlpools before Canalave. To get the ‘TM’ you must deliver the Charm to her.

How it works:

REGARDING GYMS

They are scaled, and depending on which one you decid to tackle first, the leader will ahve one or other Pokémon at certain levels. Also, you are obligated to use only as many Pokémon as the Gym leader uses. This is not an issue, because after the fourth badge, they all get 6 Pokémon.

Volkner is now no longer the last gym leader, that honor is Candace’s. He is instead, the sixth. After defeating Fantina, Wake, and Maylene at the order you please, you will be able to use STRENGHT. This will let you go on a little extra quest where you have to find Volker (he’s at the Jilted Park). After defeating him, you finally get the ability to Surf, and can go to the expanded Canalave City. After that, you will be given the ability to Waterfall, and be able to go on your Snowpoint journey.  

REGARDING PLOT

You will have some optional encounters with the (now fugitives) GC, and they will be on some of the routes between Alamos City, Hearthome Parish, and Veilstone (there is also a small event here), and have to be driven off because they are abusing the wild Pokémon.

However, after you finally get the 5th badge, the explosion on the Great Marsh goes off. You fight Junter J, and she flies away. Then, can go on to your next badge.

After defeating Volkner, there is an issue with them violating some rules regarding the energy of the city, but the next big event is after you get your seventh badge. The explosions on all of the three lakes go off. Instead of being sent there to fix it (insanity), Rowan simply encourages you because the cities nearby are in need of volunteers to help them with the damage. When you get to Valor and Verity, the reason you fight the grunts and commanders is because you catch them trying to escape. Then, you are still encouraged to go to Snowpoint because Lake Acuity’s wildlife has been threatened by the bomb, and they need help from as many trainers as they can get.

After getting there and getting your eight gym badge, you are able to access the Lily of the Vally conference, and go to the Lake to give help. There you find out that ANOTHER bomb was just inmediatly set off, and that they now have, succesfully, caught the guardians.

You get to infiltrate the Veilstone HQ next. There, you find that they have turned it into some sort of nightmarish base, and they are keeping the guardians. Berry actually goes alongside you here, as it benefits his story arc, which I will touch on later. After busting their operation, they manage to get away thanks to Hunter J, and go off to Moun Coronet. 

Then, Cynthia reveals (and Palmer of all trainers) join and send a message to the region, encouraging all of the trainers to head to Mount Coronet in order to fight Cyrus. Once again, there is no end-of-the-world nonsense, she just encourages trainers to help the Lake Trio, some legendary Pokémon that have helped humans and trainers since the beggining of humanity. It’s much more engaging this way, and MUCH less preachy.

On your way up the mountain, you run into some of the stat trainers you have been meeting before, and it is quite moving to see how everybody is trying to help the Lake Trio.

Once you get up, after fighting a 12 on 12 battle with Mars and Jupiter, and Cyrus uses The Lake Trio, Dialga and Palkia to open the portal, Giratina swallows you, Cynthia, Hunter J and Cyrus into the Distortion World. 

There (it’s all in a fish-eye camera, very much atmospheric), you solve the puzzles and get to fight Cyrus who, after some dialogue with Cynthia and J, gets a redemption.

After J’s falling, you fight Giratina (are unable to catch it yet though) to let you all out of there. Once you emerge at the Sendoff Spring, you get the conclusion with the last Giratina-reflection-sighting in the fourth lake, but instead of menacingly looking at Cyrus, it looks at you.

Then, you get to Lily of the Valley island, go through Treebove Path, and fight in the Lily of the Valley conference. You fight the stat trainers, and Lucas/Dawn in the finale, and are finally able to go through the Victory Road and challenge the League.

After the Barry fight and the Elite 4, you fight Cynthia by the ocean. After you win, the credits roll. Overall, with the expanded routes, brand new locations, revamped plot, and new rivals, the story is the most complete of any of the games, and is, without a dubt, the longest main campaign of the Pokémon games. Will continue with the side-missions and non-Calaxy plot, and post-game later.