#remember when I drew a take on her creator.. I wonder if he can turn his head normally.. while a peerless scientist part of me wants to say

[doubleedgemode]

I just got a few stitches (for a little intervention, so don't worry, I'm fine!) and it made me realise how stitches can limit the area's mobility... I wonder if back when A.B.A had stitches (or if she has them now*) that kind of influenced her way of approaching movement. Hmm

Oh and ofc. There's Paracelsus having a sewn mouth.. I suppose being a fucked up magical focu-WAIT. she only has them in key mode. What if when he became a key he gained the stitches cause A.B.A's influence (*adds this to the Paracelsus becoming into something familiar to get close to her is not that dissimilar to an anglerfish luring an unsuspecting fish/an orchid mantis' modus operandi)

(*afaik, headcanons aside, only times for now that we have seen A.B.A be depicted with LONG stitches is in her "birth" picture, in her legs, and, if you wanna count it, her (scrapped?) concept art with her having some in her forehead (internet translator said (maybe metal iirc?) wire... Dunno if that's a medical term or a mistranslation of whatever word they use in japanese, but that would truly add to her frankenstein motif, which, makes sense as IIRC said sketch was the one mentioning said influence. But I digress, maybe they could be taken away before isuka/xx/ac, but the influence in movement thing could still work, as A.B.A had them just after being born, they could have influenced her back then before she healed/learnt that "WAIT you can take them off?"

I have seen headcanons that maybe A.B.A wears her bandages to hide stitches (and um well stop bleeding) which I really like, even if I myself wouldn't commit to that idea. In Strive, her alledged neck stitch at least would have been healed since we see it in the open I think. But ALSO I have seen strive a.b.as with franken-neck stitching and I LoVe them so much. She looks so cool. Keep doing that if that's already your jam please.

My personal hc is that due to her advanced healing factor *Effusively points at how FAST she could heal wounds AND reattach her arm in Night of Knives* , she can heal stitch-requiring wounds almost asap, HOWEVER, unless really necessary she'd think it's an unnecessary use of her blood reservoir. Also, even if she can heal fast, she's so... SO... A.B.A that she then quickly gets new wounds out of reckless activities lmao.

I do believe she has enough knowledge to attend herself in these cases (probably with no anesthesia) but she's definitely not gonna get picked by the unlicensed doctors union for sure

But maybe all of this is moot cause maybe stitches aren't as tight as I thought (I just got mine I have no experience) and esp for a stitched up creature is nbd but.. still

[star-light-imagines]

Can I request a Sesshomaru and Todoroki hc. Where their s/o likes to draw, and has a sketch book filled with drawings of them?

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° this really took on a life of its own as I started writing, I stayed true to the request but did add in a touch of angst , because that's what came to mind picturing this take place.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° I hope you don't mind!

Sketches of You.

: ̗̀➛ Includes - sesshomaru x reader. shoto todoroki x reader. fluff. mutual pinning. slight angst. jealous shoto. bonus content.

: ̗̀➛ Warnings - gn! reader. slightly mean sesshomaru. annoying jaken. slight angst. cute loving moments.

: ̗̀➛ Word Count - 4,420

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

(all art and characters are do not belong to me , credit goes to the original creators.)

Sesshomaru:

Curiosity. That's what he first started to feel towards watching you completely transfixed on the book you had in your hands. However, his intrigued stares were never granted a glimpse because when he would approach, your hands would tightly clasp the book closed.

As if you could sense when his eyes darted towards your artwork , you never failed to keep it just out of his view unknowingly adding to his ever-growing interest.

Your hands moved gracefully along the paper , as if it was dancing along the pages with the pencil held between your fingertips. Attention immersed in the lines forming in front of you , while a slight breeze annoyingly moved a strand of hair into your eyes causing you to pause.

"What is that book in your hands y/n? Is it for the school you speak of in your time?" he decides to ask while staring at you questioningly, the curiosity showing slightly on his features.

You hurriedly placed the book in your bag as he moved closer to the tree your back was now leaning against. The sketches were far too revealing of your feelings for him to see. No, if he saw these sketches he would see every emotion you had for him. You weren't ready to know if those feelings would be returned or denied.

"It's a sketchbook. Some of them are for my art class , however a majority of them are just so I can have a little piece of this era to keep with me while I'm at home." you said with a blush starting to grow pink on your cheeks.

"Hm."

He looked away from you as he looked towards the sky instead, sunlight catching his golden eyes making them almost glow. All you could picture was drawing the scene before you as soon as possible before you forgot how his silver hair blew in the slight breeze.

Annoyed. He starts to become annoyed when you had let Rin look into the sketchbook but you still went through immense effort to keep his eyes from looking at what you were creating. Why am I not allowed to see your art , do you not think of me as worthy enough to look upon it?

"Y/N! Y/N! look at these flowers I picked! Can you draw the same ones for me?" Rin had asked sweetly while placing her hands on your knees while you had been sketching.

"Of course I can." A smile effortlessly taking over your features as you speak to the girl.

"It's beyond me why you would want something useless like a drawing of a flower, child!" Jaken made his irritation known with a shrieking voice.

You start to diligently draw the flowers provided to you as you tune out the conversation.

"Oh Jaken! y/n told me that even though the flowers may wither away someday. However, if I have a drawing of the flowers then I can always keep them with me." she cooed happily.

"Don't you think so too , Lord Sesshomaru?" The little girl bubbly questioned

"Hm." was his only reply.

"That reminds me, Jaken, there's one of you and Rin together here."

You remembered suddenly as you finished the sketch of the flowers, quickly turning to the page of the drawing before anyone could see the others that plagued the pages of your sketchbook.

"WHAT! You drew me without my permission!" he screeches loudly.

Sesshomaru's irritation started to rise as the conversation grew on. Jaken's inherent gasp of wonder as Rin and him looked upon your sketchbook and the sequel of happiness she had praised upon you.

You happily gave her the sketch of the flowers she tasked you with, and she quickly was treating it as her prized possession.

"Lord Sesshomaru! Don't you want to see the drawing y/n made for me? It's so beautiful!"

"No , I don't need to set my eyes upon such trivial endeavors." It was said with such disgust that Rin had paused slightly and silence filled the air.

He had said the words out of irritation and annoyance, however you wouldn't know that.

Quickly without even sparing a glance towards the paper in Rin's tiny hands , had he stood from his spot next to the tree and left the campsite.

Leaving you with silent tears you refused to let spill in his wake.

Disappointed. He's disappointed in himself for allowing such insolent behavior. He had acted in such a childish way that he could only imagine his younger half brother would have reacted towards Kagome. He wasn't like him , he was more mature , more refined. So why is it bothering him so much anyways?

Was it because you never let him see the art inside that mysterious book?

Or was it the fact he had learned you had drawn the others in his pack and easily let them look upon your art while you still kept him at a distance ?

His thoughts plagued him as he stared at the full moon in the silence of the night.

Confused. When you had apologized the next morning while packing up the camp. There was nothing for you to apologize for which had hurt his pride more than when he acted so childish in front of you.

"Do not give apologies for something that is not needed."

There was no reply from you as a shocked expression formed on your features.

He knew he needed to atone for his behavior , however per his customs he would rather do so the right way rather than a lackluster apology, so he had to wait.

Guilty. After that night , he noticed you had stopped drawing as much as you used to. Before you had used almost every bit of your free time to draw, now it was replaced with you picking flowers with Rin or making small talk with Jaken and himself.

A few weeks had gone by since that night, and you had yet to even take out the sketchbook more than once a week much to his dismay.

Even though he never outwardly expresses it , watching you draw under the shade of the trees as Rin pranced around in the fields of flowers with Jaken at her heels brought a sense of peacefulness over him.

The furrowed eyebrows in concentration as your hands moved the pencil gracefully almost effortlessly across the sketchbook resting in your lap. A slight breeze rippling through your hair and making one strand a bit into your eyesight. Before you had moved the strand behind your ear to stop it constricting your line of view.

He knew you loved to draw and apparently had a gift for it from the praise Rin and Jaken had given you that night. He didn't want his childish words to keep you from doing something you desired to do.

He took a moment to peek at you over his shoulder , your eyes glancing at the clouds above. A slightly sad expression overtaking your facial features before you had made eye contact with him almost as if you had known his eyes were on you.

He quickly moved his eyes forward to gaze at the trail in front of him, a stoic expression while his heart hammered in his chest. This was new, he never felt this way before. He never felt the need to make someone want to smile more strongly than he did right now, and he had no idea on how to accomplish that with you.

Content. He led you aside one night to a river near the campsite. The moon light was reflecting off the water enchantingly and fireflies decided to dance along grass nearby.

"You no longer draw , how come ? Is it not something you desire to do?" he asked with a stoic expression as gold eyes made contact with e/c, filling the silence between you two.

"Oh , I just figured maybe I should take a break from it for now, plus my sketchbook is almost full so until my next trip home I'm a bit limited."

He noticed how pink dusted your cheeks before you quickly looked away. A smirk slightly formed on his lips at the sight , he liked seeing a blush form on your cheeks more than he previously would have realized.

"You apologized before for something that didn't need your apology."

"Oh, yes, that's right." you stammer out not seeing where this conversation could be heading.

"Do not do so again. If you know you aren't at fault , don't lower yourself to others' bad behavior."

You stood there stunned, not quite sure what to say before uttering a quick " Yes." when his stern eyes reached yours.

When that conversation happened you had mostly apologized in order for there to be no ill will between you two and make sure he wasn't upset at you. Never would you have imagined he would tell you twice now not to apologize for something so trivial in the long scheme of things.

"If anyone needs to apologize , it would be this Sesshomaru for the unsightly attitude I had given you. I should have told you this before now , however it is a yokai custom to come bearing gifts when asking for forgiveness."

Sesshomaru pulls out a set of what looks like custom made art tools. They were beautifully handcrafted with fine luxurious materials, more than likely yokai crafted at that.

A gasp of awe escapes your lips as your fingers gingerly gloss over each of the tools, you focus mostly on drawing but you could now expand your art to other mediums such as painting if you so desired.

Your heart had swelled to the brim with affection and happiness that spilled out in the form of tears running down your cheeks.

"Is it not to your liking." he asked, his lips forming a tight frown.

"It's beautiful." you say with what you're sure is the happiest smile you ever graced him before.

Yes , he is content with this for now.

Realization. Later that night as you two were walking back to the campsite, you ended up asking him why he had responded in such a way in the first place. When he had told you how he felt irritated about the others getting to see your art, while he felt left out and cast aside, you instantly started to feel guilt weigh down your shoulders.

"There's a reason I never let you see. It's not a good reason, but I was just embarrassed of what you would say once you saw what I draw everyday." you say while heat spreads to your cheeks.

"Why would you be embarrassed of showing this Sesshomaru?"

You quickly take the sketch book out of your bag and hand it to him before you can change your mind. He eyes you while his clawed fingers carefully open the book in his hands and you look away, embarrassed to watch his eyes linger on the sketches.

He's silent as his fingers graze the pages within , silently turning the pages every few moments after he takes in the contents of the page before.

"These are all sketches of .." he trails off in amazement, his eyes taking on a softer look than you have ever seen before.

"They are all sketches of you. yeah there's Rin or Jaken , maybe a beautiful valley every now and then , but you are what I sketch everyday. You are what I like to see most even when I'm in my era and not by your side."

That's when he realized the feelings he had towards you this whole time wasn't just ordinary feelings for a companion in his pack , or a human he had just happen to keep by his side.

He wanted to keep you by his side. He wanted to always make you smile the way he you are now with your eyes glowing and your cheeks dusted with a pink hue.

Most importantly, he couldn't be just content with you as a companion for much longer.

I never want to let y/n go.

"Y/n I desire to see everything you draw from now on."

"Of course" you reply shyly.

"You are stunningly beautiful when you blush like that. If only I had the skills you possess in order to show you as you had shown me."

Wide eyes catch the smirk dancing on his lips before he walks towards the campsite , hand still wrapped tightly around your sketchbook as he did.

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Bonus Scene:

"Sesshomaru , I've been meaning to ask this. where did you get these art tools ?"

He glanced down at you as your head rested on his shoulder, your new sketchbook on your thighs as you gracefully sketched a beautiful scene of the two of you this time under a cherry blossom tree.

A pleased smile graced his usually stoic features as his eyes became softer at the sight. "I had them specially made from a yokai craftsman in my territory, the day Jaken was left to guard you two I had gone to collect them."

You smile happily as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder more as a slight breeze whipped some strands of hair onto your face.

He reaches a clawed hand towards you elegantly , placing the strand back behind your ear taking a few seconds to pull his fingers away before smirking at the obvious heat rising to your cheeks.

»»———-　　———-««

Shoto Todoroki:

Curiosity. He started to notice you would often be sitting close to the windows in the dormitory, with all of your attention focused on the sketchbook on your lap. You would never once glance up at the environment around you, not even when one of your classmates was usually loud. His interest peaked , he couldn't help but wonder what you had been drawing for days on end.

Shoto had decided to try and take a glimpse at your artwork after watching you work dedicatedly on the page before beneath your smudge stained fingers.

The sketchbook had been slammed closed before his eyes could see the mysterious artwork hidden within, only feeding into his curiosity even more. You had given him a quick glance , making eye contact before placing the book safely in your bag.

"It's not polite to look at someone's personal belongings without permission, Todoroki."

His eyes glazed over to the bag that now held the notebook that is just out of his reach, before returning his eyes to stare directly into yours evenly almost as if stating a challenge.

"I'm just curious as to what you are drawing that has you so transfixed."

A smile makes its way to your lips.

"Ever hear that curiosity killed the cat."

You hastily made your way to your dorm room, bag in tow. The thumping of your heart was echoing in your ears as you walked. That was close, too close for comfort. If he had seen inside, he would know just how deeply of a crush you have been harboring for him since you first met him.

While he still stood there, piecing together your sentence.

Were you saying I would die for being too curious?

Content. Since the day he tried to take a glimpse of your sketchbook , you had been careful to not let him approach too closely. Making sure that if you had sensed him , you would immediately close the book in your hands. However, the curiosity he felt started to fade. Taking in the sight of you drawing so earnestly and with such dedication was art in itself.

You were enchanting , eyes focused on the pages before you. a firm grip on the sketchbook as it laid on your lap and your remaining hand danced across the paper delicately. His eyes were in a trance as he watched you from across the room , gliding along with each movement your fingers made.

A small smile graced your lips as you finished whatever art piece you had set your heart on that day, and that's when he felt it. Watching your eyebrows relax and peace settle into your face as you looked content as you placed the sketchbook bag in the safety of your bag. He noticed he no longer really needed to know what you were drawing as long as you continued to smile just like that.

Warmth filled his chest at the thought as he gazed at your retreating figure.

Yes, he's content with this.

Bitter. Shoto realizes that you are drawing in Midoriya's notebook. the feeling of ice shivered down his spine as he saw you so intently focused with that same smile he felt so content at seeing. Now being shown to his best friend in the seat next to you. Oh, so that was why you never let him see your art , it's reserved for someone else.

Midoriya had asked you a few days ago to help him redesign the sketches in his notebook. He noticed how you were always drawing in your free time and decided you would be the best person to go to for the request.

You've never taken commission work before, and even though you weren't getting paid it did feel nice having someone look at your art and see how excited they got at the results. Watching how happy Midoriya was at the sketches you had already placed made you eager to accept more requests in the future if you ever got the chance.

"Wow! y/n I can't believe how amazing your sketches are!" he says in wonder.

"Thank you, but you are really flattering me too much." you say happily as you make the finishing touches on the last drawing of a figure of midoriya doing a move he's wanting to practice.

"I really mean it y/n! This is way better than anything I've ever managed to do. What made you start drawing?"

You quickly put down your pencil as you go into thought for a moment from the sudden question.

"I guess.. it would have to be the fact that even though moments pass by so quickly, a moment I draw will stay forever encased like a photograph for me to look at whenever I want to revisit it."

"Y/N! That's beautiful." he states with slight tears forming in his eyes, while he's forcing himself to hold them back.

"Oh Todoroki! You're up early this morning, come look at y/n's art." Midoriya said excitedly as he motioned for Shoto to join them at the table you were residing at.

Your heart hammered in your chest at the thought of him finally looking at your artwork. This was finally something he could see that wouldn't immediately show how much you liked him and you were nervous about his response to your designs.

"No thank you. I heard curiosity killed the cat." he says with a stoic expression.

e/c met a heterochromia mixture of grey and blue in shock, he had refused to see the art he tried so desperately to steal a glimpse of a few weeks before. Had he really taken you seriously with your remark?, or did he just no longer care to look at what you were drawing anymore. The excitement in your heart slowly fading out, you fell silent.

You watched as midoriya continued to talk to him with a slightly shocked and worried expression, before eventually shoto had left the room leaving you alone once again with the green haired boy beside you.

Numb. The days following he had started to distance himself from you and Midoriya. Deciding to no longer eat with the two of you at lunch like before or spend free time together in the dormitory like what had been a routine for him. He now isolated himself in his room to escape the questioning looks you would give his way or the worried expressions his best friend would give him whenever he became too silent.

He didn't want to distance himself from you , but every time he saw you he remembered that the only one you allowed yourself to open up to was midoriya. He realized he would never be able to get close to you the way he was and it made him feel cold.

The cold feeling overtook him in a way that was so intense that his body and mind felt numb.

I lost y/n before I even had a chance to get them.

You had noticed how he was distancing himself and your heart ached in pain at the fact. every time you had tried to reach out, to question what could be plaguing his thoughts he would shut you out. Not only was your mind suffering from the worry , but so was the art you had tried to complete in order to relax from the stress.

The sketches of shoto that you had tried to finish the last few days have been a failure compared to your collection of artwork consisting of the one man taking over your thoughts. It was pointless to try and draw him when he won't even talk to me anymore.

A silent tear strolls down your cheek as you look up to the ceiling of your dorm.

Why do I feel so numb?

Midoriya had told me recently that my art might be able to reach people when words fail.

Taking a quick glance towards your sketchbook before you could second guess your thoughts, you grab it tightly in your hands and make your way towards his dorm room.

Surprised. The knock on his door had shaken him from his thoughts, and the sight of you as he opened his door had his stoic expression falter slightly as his eyes widened just a bit where you could notice. He obviously wasn't expecting you to be here in his doorway, Why would he when he had been actively pushing you away ? and yet here you were smiling sadly back at him in silence.

"Y/n?" he lets out a confused gasp of your name that he believed he only spoke in his mind for a moment when you took a few beats to answer.

He notices you take a breath inward before releasing it and the determined e/c orbs reach him.

"I won't know what's wrong unless you tell me."

"And I won't know how to help you unless you tell me." you continue before he can reply.

"But I can care about you, and I want to help you so stop pushing me away!"

You place the sketchbook in his hands in one rough motion as you finish your last sentence. Your gaze now directed at the ground and the tips of your ears growing red and the feeling of his eyes lingering on you in the silence that fell over you two.

Shoto looks down at the sketchbook in his hands while processing the words you had told him. he knows he was being to hard on you, he shouldn't have treated you so badly the last few days. he just couldn't force himself to watch you be with his best friend when he had just recently discovered that the feelings he's harbored for you all along would go unrequited.

He slowly opens the sketchbook prepared to see sketches of Midoriya or even just random sketches of the world through your eyes, however once the contents reach his vision he freezes. his fingers grazing the person so familiar to him on the pages before flipping through each page.

"This is .." he starts before stopping, surprised to see that every page was filled with sketches of one person.

"You. They are all sketches of you." you say a small smile placed on your lips as you hesitantly glanced up to him.

His heart filled with so much joy and awe that a few silent tears slid down his cheeks as he realized that not only did the person he had feelings for , have feelings for him as well , but that he had unintentionally hurt you more than he intended when he distanced himself.

"I was jealous." he states, suddenly making your mouth open in shock.

"What?!"

"Midoriya was able to see your artwork. It seemed like he was so much closer to you than I would ever be."

Shoto gazes turns downward towards his feet as a slight blush graces his cheeks from the revealed emotions.

You were surprised by the sudden confession and let a lighthearted laugh escape your lips from the pressure of his distance to put on your heart. He glanced at you making eye contact before you leaned into him, placing a hand on his cheek as you got closer.

"You know that cats have nine lives ? so even if they do die of curiosity they can always try again." you say before leaning to press your lips to his.

Happiness. The ice he had felt had melted and the numbness from the cold was warmed completely from your feelings that reached him through the sketches you had shown him and the kiss you have given him.

"I'm sorry for hurting you." he says softly while placing a strand of your hair behind your ear and looking deep into your eyes.

You smile brightly up at him in return.

“Promise to talk to me next time before you jump to conclusions?”

He laughs slightly as a small smile takes over the frown that graced his lips.

“Promise.”

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Bonus Scene:

“So why were you drawing in Midoriya’s notebook?” he asked while you ate dinner together in his room.

You looked at him with a bright smile excited to tell him all about how you were now wanting to start commissioning your artworks.

“He asked me to help him redesign his notebook. He told me his drawings were making his notes look too messy.” you said happily before stealing a piece of his food from his plate.

“I really wish I would have paid more attention that day.” he said with a small sigh before the smile returns as he gazes at you.

“However I don’t regret anything because somehow throughout all this , I managed to get you.”

»»———-　　———-««

A/N: Should I keep my headcanons / imagines like this or make them more simple & short?

[unbreathable]

ride home  / S. Rogers

Summary : As a girl you were always told to never accept a ride from unknown men. You knew what could happen, you knew the dangers and heck, you`ve seen how it ruined some girls. But hey, he`s your teacher, nothing could happen. Right?

Pairing : Dark(soft)!teacher Steve Rogers x female Reader

Before you read, please understand that this is intended to be a dark fic. There will be noncon elements, rape, violence, manipulation and so much more. If you find any of these disturbing, please click away. 18+ only.

Warnings for this one shot : manipulation, noncon elements, rape, use of drugs, lost of virginity. This is some kind of au and Steve might be out of character a little.

Word count : 3.319

Credit : for the gif I used, the credit goes to its rightful creator.

Note : Don’t expect this to be any good. I came up with this over the course of a few hours and I’m still learning how to write one shots, as I find it much easier to write a series. Also I still suck at writing “smut”. I’m trying to perfect it, tho. Promise. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one shot till my mind would be satisfied with the way the next chapter of “The Magpie” turned out and would let me post it. :)) Also, please excuse any mistakes I made. Have a great day you guys!

                   Also, to all the writers from this platform : thank you !

Girl found wondering around without any memory of the last few days, claims she had been abducted and raped...

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at the case which has been all over the news for the past week. It was quite predictable, really. Young girl, too drunk for her own good woke up by herself in the middle of nowhere. You sighed. In a city as big as New York, cases like this happened almost every other day, but there was always something left behind. Fight marks, blood, hair. Anything that could help the police find the person who did it. This time though, there was nothing.

The poor girl. You couldn`t help but pity her. She must be terrified. All alone against a world that knows nothing better than to judge. You pinched your nose in exasperation.

Cases like this, it`s what made you choose to study law. You wanted to be able to help other women. To offer them a chance at justice. No one deserved to be told that it was their own fault for wondering alone at night or for wearing something more showing. No girl should feel like the law protects only the male population...

“ And what`s your opinion on this matter, miss I`m too busy scrolling on my phone to pay attention to class?”

You cursed in your head, as you put your phone away and lifted your eyes to meet your teacher.

Steve Rogers. America`s hero, savior of the world and an actual pain in your ass, was looking at you expectantly. You held his gaze as you forced your lips to form some kind of smile. Something about him always put you on edge and the way his eyes darkened as he stared at you, didn`t exactly help ease the feeling.

“I`m sorry, I was distracted.” you murmured, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he caught you unprepared. ”If you would be so kind...”

You looked at him as you raised one eyebrow. It was always like this. No matter what you did he`d always find something to pick at you. At first you took it as a form of banter between a teacher and his students, but with time it became clearly that he had a problem with you. Your grades didn`t reflect the hard work you always put in. Your extra work wouldn`t be considered. Every time you would as much as look at your watch he`d find something to jab at you. He would also have something to say about every paper you handed him. It was a miracle you even made the grade for his class.

You cringed as you remembered the comments he would make about your life outside his class. You seemed to bump into him on a daily. There was also something, in the way he watched your every move, that it made the hair at the back of your neck stay high on alert. You really couldn`t understand what you`ve done that America`s sweetheart despised you that much.

”The women rights...” he smirked down at you.

“Oh, yes. I strongly believe that women should have got their rights the same time men did.” you smiled when you realized that he wanted to add something else. “I mean we know that every society of this world was built around androcentrism, but if we`re real the women were the ones that kept everything from falling apart.” you drew in a short breath. “Oh, and I believe that 1920 was a bit late for our women to get their rights, since women all around the world fought for it since the 18th century.”

You smirked, as for once in your life the bell rang exactly when you needed it. Forcing a smile his way, you stood up gathering your notebooks. You were quite proud of yourself, not because your answer was the desired one, but because you got on professor Rogers nerves. While he didn`t seem to have a problem with women and feminists in general, he sure had a problem with the way you choose to speak on the matter. From the corner of your eye you saw his jaw twitch.

At first you were afraid to even say your opinion lest you would upset him, but now you enjoyed to see that vein on his forehead nearly pop. You held back a giggle. Oh well, at least you won`t have to see him for the next few weeks.

“Professor!” you rolled your eyes when you herd your bestfriend use her sweet voice. “I was wondering if you`d like to come to our party tonight.”

You stood straight, narrowing your eyes at the one that has been your friend since the first day you came to the city. What the hell was happening. You knew she had a crush on him, everyone did, but she wasn`t the one to just go and ask someone out, especially not him. You watched her in confusion as professor Rogers made his way to the front of the class.

“You know, with everything happening right now, the uni council would let us hold the party only if there was someone that could take care of us.”

“Oh!” you supposed that made sense, but even so why did it have to be him.

“Of course professor Barnes already said that he`ll be there, but we`d be thankful if you came too. Please!” your friend bated her eyelashes at him as you rolled your eyes.

Professor Rogers had a pleased smile as he moved his eyes from her to you. You held his gaze, even going as far as raising one eyebrow at him. He blinked, before turning his head towards the rest of the class.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he said after a short moment dismissively. ”`I`ll be there.”

There was something sinister in his eyes. Something that you failed to see as you made your way out of the lecture class.

“I can`t believe you invited him!” you playfully jabbed your friend in the shoulder as she walked next to you.

“Oh, come on! It’s just tonight, and I bet he won’t be able to stay up that late since he’s like... the same age as history?” she bit back a laugh, as she took your hand. “It will be fun, you`ll see.”

You hoped she was right since you were never a big fan of parties of any kind.

                                       _ _ _

This wasn`t fun. Not at all.

You knew you should have stayed home, yet you still wanted to enjoy the last night with your class mates before break. But this wasn`t it. The music was too loud and you couldn`t even hear what some people were saying. Also you`ve never really been a techno fan. The food was crap and you were sure everyone came just because there were free drinks.

It was well past midnight and you have been there since the beginning, but you were already dreading it. You smiled as your only joy came from watching drunk freshmen being rejected by some of your friends. The girls were ruthless and that made you proud.

“Hey girl!” your bestfriend came by your side, holding two glasses in her hands as her body danced along the rhythm of the music. “Look at was professor Rogers sent us.”

Her words were slurred and you could see that she drank already too much. That`s why at first you thought you didn`t hear her right. While it wasn`t unusual for men to send women drinks, getting a drink from your teacher was something you never thought could happen. It was wrong in a way.

“What?” your eyes widened as soon as the word left your mouth.

You eyed the glass she handed you. It seemed to be one of your favorites, and after the sour taste the beer left in your mouth, that would have been like a desert. Still something made you suspicious.

“Come on, take it!”  your friend pressed as she smiled broadly. “He must have realized that he’s been an ass all year and wants to make amends.”

She was giggling as her glossy eyes drifted around the room. She didn`t seem to be able to focus on anything, but somehow her shaky hands found yours and brought the glass you were holding closer to your mouth. You weren`t exactly sure what came over you, but you opened your mouth and let the liquid go down your throat. Involuntarily, your eyes wondered around till you saw the back of your least favorite teacher. He didn`t even seem to care about anything around him as he was engaged into a discussion with professor Barnes. That alone made you feel safe, even though the drink left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You were too quick to judge, you resonated. This was probably his way of saying: “Sorry I tormented you that much.” You suddenly giggled. It was shortly followed by your friend`s laughter. She threw the glass to the side and took your hand leading you to the dancefloor.

You weren`t that much of a dancer. You knew just some basics moves and that was it, but now you didn`t seem to care. You let your body move, and only chuckled when your legs started to feel like jelly. It was a strange feeling. You suddenly felt like were floating.

You furrowed your brows as you started to feel that your body didn`t exactly respond to your impulses. Everything around you happened in slow motion.

You cursed. Just how much did you drink? Moving one hand to your head, you tried to get your senses back, but you found it too hard to do. Your head buzzed. For a second you looked around trying to spot your friend among the sweaty bodies on the dancefloor, but it was like you couldn`t recognize anybody.

Fuck this. You had enough of this party already, and the way you felt made you decide that it was time to go home. You moved between the sea of bodies as fast as you could. Your coat and purse were the only thing you spent more than five minutes looking for, but as you found them you practically run out of there.

The bus stop wasn`t that far, but just the thought that you`ll have to go home by bus, made you want to throw up. You didn`t feel well and there was  dizziness that started to overcome you. As you watched the empty street, you cursed again. Of course you`ll have to wait till the next bus came. Damn it! You should really get your license.

The sound of a engine from behind you, made you turn your head. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the Range Rover slow down and actually stop right next to you. You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the tinted glass, but as a wave of nausea hit you, you moved your head to the side. You didn`t exactly pay attention when one of the windows went down. You didn`t really care. You felt sick, and all you wanted, was to get home.

“ I saw you left the party early.” the deep voice said. “Are you all right kitten?”

You hissed when you heard the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. What was he even doing here? Your heart skipped a beat as another wave hit. You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. Just ignore him and he`ll go away. You didn`t exactly knew why you choose to act like that but there was something in your head that told you it was for the best.

“Come on girl, I have to make sure everyone is safe and sound.” you heard his voice. “If you don`t feel fine, I can take you home.”

The idea of getting home sooner and in a nice car was looking really good right now. But still, you didn`t feel like it was the best for you. You choose to keep quiet for reasons not even you knew. You glossy eyes scanned the schedule of the bus that was right in front of you. Thirty minutes and you`ll go home.

You heard professor Rogers sigh.

“And here I thought you never shut your mouth.” there was a deep chuckle, fallowed by the sound of the engine coming to life. “Look kitten I can either get you home or I`ll go my merry way and let you here all alone... well not quite. But I`m not sure you`d want that kind of company.”

Confusion filled your mind. The sudden move you made to look at him, made you dizzy. You tried to focus your eyes, in time to see him pointing to somewhere behind you. You slowly turned.

A group of guys were eyeing you like a wolf would his prey. Your mouth fell open as they did obscene gestures at you. Your whole body freeze as fear took over you. You knew what could happen. Suddenly you were more sober that ever and as you heard the car start moving, you nearly threw yourself in front of it. On shaky legs you moved towards the door.

“Wait” you find it hard to speak. “Professor, I`m sorry I... please!”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and didn`t even register the way he smirked as you got into the car. Everything was a haze. You only felt like you could breath when the car started to gain speed. You didn`t even remembered to give him your address or anything, but as the car rolled down various streets you were only thankful you were far away from them.

“It such a crazy world out there” professor Rogers voice made you move your head towards him, but as the fear was gone, you started to feel the dizziness again.

With unfocused eyes you watched him. America`s hero was giving you a ride home for free and you were acting like he was your biggest enemy. What was wrong with you?

“I have to say I`m impressed.” he suddenly said as the car started to slow down. “That was one of the strongest drugs that you drank, and you still have some of your conscious left. The other ones were down after a few minutes.”

You looked at him and simply blinked. You wondered if your mind was playing games with you. Surely, he hadn`t said what you think you heard. You must have imagined everything.

“E... excuse me?” you asked dully.

You drew in a shaky breath as your trembling hand went to the door. He chuckled darkly at your attempts to open it. You wanted to scream but as your movement became slower and slower you found that fear wasn`t enough to fuel your limp body.

The car came to a sudden stop. You closed your eyes as you felt hands pulling you back.

“Now, now honey.” you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Don`t waste your energy, you`ll need it.”

You turned your head and watched him through your eyelashes. Something in your head was screaming at you to fight, to run, to get away. You wanted to punch, scratch, hurt him in any way. But your body didn`t listen.

It happened too fast. In a matter of second your dress was ripped to shreds. And your found yourself pressed to the door. He was over you in an instant. Turning your head to the side so that he could stare into your eyes. He had a hungry look on his face. You`ve seen it many times but it never terrified you as much as now.

“Just as pretty as I imagined.” he said in a husky voice.

You squeezed your legs as you felt his hand moving around along your body. He tugged at your bra till the clasps snapped. Your nipples stood erect, you didn`t know if it was from the cold of the car or the heat that was inside you. One of his hands came forward at pinched at your nipples. You made to move, but as sensing your intention he tugged your head back by your hair.

“Don`t you even dare!” he growled as his thumb played with one of your nipples. “I waited a long time for this”.

He leaned forward kissing down your stretched neck. His mouth was hot against your skin. You gasped when you felt his tongue leaving wet traces along your collarbone. He tugged at your hair one more time before his hand went down.

“Always dressing like this world is your own runaway, always thinking that you know it all.” he let out a moan as he squeezed your ass. “Do you know what a face as pretty as yours and an attitude like that do to a man?”

You whimpered. You never meant to catch his attention in that way, you just wanted to feel good about yourself. You wanted to tell him that. To tell him that you were sorry, but your brain didn`t work anymore. There was no reaction even as he spanked you. You felt like you could pass out every second.

“Don`t even think about it!”

You closed your eyes when your panties were soon the same as your other clothes. Slick was going down your legs. Despite everything, you were aroused.

“So fucking wet already. Good girl!” he praised.

You felt his hand descend down to your very core, proding around. You bit your lips as tears filled your eyes.

“How many have been here before?” he gave a low chuckle the same time his fingers pinched your button.

“One?” he mocked as one of his long fingers entered you.

You held back a gasp. Non, no, no. This wasn`t happening. Nobody touched you like that before. Nobody even came close to it. That`s not how you wanted it not how you dreamt it would happen. You wanted dinner, roses, a man you loved... not him.

“Two?” he continued as another finger stretched you.

You felt your walls clench around his fingers, as he moved them in and out ou you, everything while his thumb circled your most sensitive part.

“Fuck... you`re tight!” his breath was ragged, it was like he couldn`t get enough.

There was a sudden pause. In a quick move you found yourself pressed to the door of the car, as he angled your body to have better access to your burning core. He drew in a breath.

“A virgin.” he moaned.

You closed your eyes as you herd him playing at his clothes. The sudden hardness you felt proding around your core, made you shiver. You didn`t dare to look back and see it. You were scared. It seemed too big. You were afraid it would split you in a half.

You screamed when he entered you. The pain blurred your vision. Your whole body ached and tears fell down your cheeks. No, no, no. You bit back a moan of pain when he started to move, not caring about you at all. His moves were rough, punishing.

“Shhh doll, I`ll take care of you.” he rasped. “You must have waited so long for this... saving yourself for me.”

Your body moved in rhythm with his. His cock dragged along your walls as every move sent a wave of pain through you. Soon though, you found the pain disappeared. A strange feeling took over you. It was almost pleasurable. You guessed you would have enjoyed it under any other circumstances. But now? Now you were just tired.

As you passed out, you failed to notice the feeling of something warm flowing through you.

                                          _ _ _

Steve smiled down at your sleeping form. So pretty, even after being used like that. You had a glow. Too bad you might not remember anything that happened. He chuckled. It`s a  good thing he planned to keep you. He`ll make sure you`ll never forget him.

You were his girl after all. The only reason he took that shitty job as a teacher.

[kinsurou]

Hello guys! This is my first contribution to the Haikyuu HQ Server Collabs! It's so exciting to be part of this project alongside so many wonderful creators! We were asked to create a fic/art with the following prompt: "I wonder what he'd do if he knew you were with me right now." (Pronouns may vary).

I want to thank everyone in the HQHQ Server who helped me out with this fic. You guys are such amazing friends and I love every single one of you!

Click here to check out the Collab Masterlist!

Word Count: 5.1K

Pairings: Suna Rintarou x Reader

Beta Reader: @kuroos-babygirl

Warnings: Smut (+18), Dubcon (Reader doesn't give verbal consent.) Coercion, Toxic Parental Figures, Use of weed, Alcohol, Unprotected sex, Corruption.

A sharp, unfaltering gaze followed your every move all the way back from the other side of the room. From the small fidgeting whenever anyone looked in your direction, to the way you would sip awkwardly at the red cup clasped between your hands, and the scrunch of distaste adorning your features because of the strong, bitter flavor of the drink.

But what else could you do when you’re surrounded by literal strangers, and the only person that can be considered your only friend was currently too busy straddling a guy’s lap, making out to her heart’s content and grinding against his lap...while they’re both sitting in front of you.

It was so awkward...and yet it was nearly impossible to look away from the two of them. The way her hips rocked against his lap as she pulled on his gray locks, or his veiny hands taking a firm hold of her hips. Watching her going at it with this guy was too much to handle.

Why did you let her drag you into this party to begin with? If your parents find out you snuck out of the house, they’ll kill you.

...Your parents.

That thought is quickly forgotten. Right now you just want to have another drink and drown the worries away. Standing up from the cushion, you quickly begin walking towards the kitchen, leaving behind the security of the couch as well as your occupied friend. 

To your relief, the kitchen isn’t as crowded as the rest of the house, where other people were just talking, some of them doing keg stands or playing drinking games. There’s even some of them laying around the floor or leaning against the walls, completely knocked out by the amount of alcohol they consumed.

Finally, you come across a mess of beer bottles and red cups all over the countertop, some of them thrown around carelessly, others are full with the alcohol you were desperately looking for. Rather than going back to your seat, you stay in the empty room, leaning back against the marble and taking a swig of a new cup, once again drinking in silence while swaying slightly to the beat of the music. Too distracted to realize someone else just walked in until their footsteps come relatively closer, stopping less than a few feet away from you.

“Isn’t it past midnight already, Cinderella?” 

You jolt in surprise, nearly crushing the cup with a tight grip until you recognize that voice and that cursed nickname. There’s only one person on campus who calls you that face to face. Frowning slightly as you look at the culprit, you come face to face with a pair of nonchalant, dark yellow eyes that are always looking out for other’ weak spots despite their absent facade.

“Stop calling me that, Suna.” You turn away from him, hoping that he’ll get the hint and walk away, but that heavy, piercing gaze never leaves your body. Instead, he just walked closer before stopping in front of you. He starts leaning forwards, that bored look on his face doesn’t change in the slightest while he traps you between the marble countertop and his broad torso. “G-Go away…”

But he just continues staring at you, not another word comes out of his lips before his face approaches yours. Cheeks brushing past each other’s so faintly that the touch almost goes unnoticed. When his warm breath brushes against the uncovered skin of your shoulders, you finally realize just how close he’s standing. But either he doesn’t notice or he just doesn’t care about the proximity, or the effects it has on your body. Such as the clenching between your thighs or the small hitch in your breathing.

It only lasted for a minute, and yet it feels like an eternity when he finally takes a step back, holding one of those familiar cups in hand. Both relief and disappointment radiate off your body when he finally takes a step back, but judging from the way he looks at you with a small glint in his eyes, Suna is perfectly aware of what he’s provoking.

“Disappointed much?” God, you wanted to smack that smirk off his face so badly. This is exactly why you try to avoid him in college as much as possible.

...As well as other reasons.

“You’re so easy to read that it’s not even a challenge.” The eye contact is never broken as he leans back against the sink, taking a sip of his own cup so nonchalantly. It was like he didn’t corner you in the first place. But you know better that Suna Rintarou never does anything by mere coincidence. “What are you doing here in the first place? I thought Cinderella wasn’t allowed to go to the party.”

“Yeah, well…” You don’t look at him as you answer. The less eye contact you could make with him, the better “She still attended, didn’t she?”

He chuckled quietly from his spot. It was such a low noise, barely audible despite standing so close to him. And yet something about it was just so captivating. You’ve never heard his laughter before, so this was definitely something new.

“No wonder everyone’s talking about you right now.” With those words, you fell right into his trap just like a butterfly on a spiderweb. Quickly turning around to find yourself into the same position as before. Trapped between marble and his warmth. This time he stood even closer than before, so close that you could smell an all too familiar scent that saturated every fiber of his clothes.

“It was too good to be true. The principal’s daughter coming to a party? Had to see with my own eyes.” He leans forwards again. The overwhelming proximity makes your heart beat rapidly against your chest with such strength, it’s a miracle Suna hasn’t said anything about it when he presses his own chest against yours. Or maybe he did notice, if the way he looks at your cleavage is any indicator.

“You’re so nervous, it feels like I’m looking at a little rabbit.” His fingers start playing with the hem of your blouse, brushing faintly against your hips. Every inch of your skin trembles by his touch. A part of your head tells you this is a bad idea, that you need to walk away and leave right this instant. But your body says otherwise, staying firm in place.

“N-No.” Your gaze is averted, focused on anything else but the man standing in front of you. “Please, I just want to leave...”

“Do you? Or maybe you’re just afraid.” Something brushes softly against the shell of your ear, it takes you a full minute to realize that feeling belongs to his lips, nibbling teasingly while his hands make their way up your back, fiddling with the clips of your bra. But he just keeps tugging at them playfully, not really set on taking off your clothes….at least not yet.

“Afraid of what your parents would say. Think nobody knows how they treat you?” his hands finally stop, just to delve down until they’re resting over your lower back. “You’re such a good girl who never causes trouble...it’s too good to be true if you ask me.”

He pulled your hips closer towards him, slipping one leg between your trembling legs. A sly smirk grew on his face once he began grinding his knee against your core, sweet friction drew out one of the sweetest, high-pitched gasps from you. A noise so sweet, dirty and addictive that he needed to hear more of them. So when you looked at him in the eye, Suna could barely control himself. “Don’t you want to let loose for once? Do you want to be my dirty little girl?”

“Suna, I…” He didn’t wait for an answer, capturing your silky lips into a fervent kiss, swallowing every single whimper you gave whenever that knee brushed lazily against your core. Everything he did quickly overwhelmed your body, triggering a chain of breath-taking sensations. Like the fluttering at the pit of your stomach, the uncontrollable shivers prickling your skin, and the waves of heat radiating off your face. Frankly, you wanted more of it.

...But just thinking about your parent’s reactions was enough to feel terrified. The constant pressure and beliting over the smallest things. Not getting a perfect score in all the exams? Lazy and irresponsible. Wearing something they deemed inappropriate? Attention seeker. You could still remember the one time you ran into Suna while he was smoking, the smell of his cigarette had tainted your clothes that day, but neither of your parents believed the claims of innocence, calling you such horrible things that the mere reminder could be enough to make anyone suffer a meltdown.

Having one of the harshest teachers as well as the principal themselves as your parents was a nightmare nobody would wish upon their worst enemy.

You mustered enough courage to place both hands on his chest, slightly pushing him away while trying so hard not to try and feel the chiseled muscles hidden underneath the black fabric of his shirt.

“Stop. They’ll kill me if they find out.”

“They don’t have to know.”

“But I don’t want to get in trouble again.”

“You’re already in trouble just being here, Cinderella.”

It was true. And you hated how true that statement was, sooner or later your father would find out and it would be chaos...but that didn’t do much to soothe that painful sensation at the pit of your stomach, slowly feeding off the sheer horror you felt at the idea of their constant beliting.

The trembling of your body didn’t go unnoticed by the guy standing between your legs. 

“Hey, you’re already in trouble...So let me help you relax, what do you say, Cinderella?” He kissed your jaw softly, lingering in place as he inhaled the soft scent of perfume. “Don’t you want to feel good for once? I know you’ll enjoy it.”

But he was only met with silence, neither were you looking at him again, instead your eyes stayed focused on the sink overflowing with empty bottles of liquor. Suna just huffed, pulling his hands back before he began stepping back, ready to go back to the living room with a sour mood, but that quickly vanished when he felt the tight clutch at the corner of his shirt.

With an eyebrow raised, he turned back to see you grabbing on his shirt, still avoiding his gaze as much as possible. But he could see it, the way your body said the contrary. You wanted this as much as he did, maybe even more. But the fear clouding your thoughts was making it hard to say anything.

And that gave Suna an idea.

“If you want this so bad, then I can give you a hand. What do you say Cinderella?” His fingers once again brushed against the uncovered skin of your shoulder. And when you made no move to stop his approaches, Suna knew he had won. “Good girl.”

He grabbed you softly by the wrist, determined to take things somewhere more private. Nobody seemed to pay attention anymore as you both walked across the halls. When he crossed the living room, Suna made eye contact with his silver haired friend, who was ever so busy with the girl sitting on his lap as she attacked his neck fervently. Both males just looked at each other and nodded silently before getting back to business. Osamu went back to making out with the girl, and Suna brought you along to one of the empty rooms.

The sound of a door being closed snapped you out of it. apart from the soft glow of the moonlight, the room was completely dark, but it was still possible to see the outline of some furniture placed around the room, the outline of a desk at the corner, some shelves and even a small couch near the window. It had to be some sort of study. Whose house was this in the first place…?

Out of nowhere, a strong smell began coming from your side, slowly making its presence well-known across the room. A strong smell that could come from one thing only.

And that was from the joint held between Suna’s fingers, the tip burned brightly in the darkness of the room, giving his sharp features this captivating, gentle glow akin to that from a fireplace in those fairytales you always used to read when you were but a small little girl, still full of nothing but hope and dreams for a brighter future.

Suna noticed the way your eyes lingered on the speck of light, following the smoky trail as it danced across the small breeze inside the room before dissipating, like it never existed in the first place.

“Here.” He put the joint in front of your face, not even blinking by the shocked expression on your face. Eyes wide open as you looked at it with sheer horror and panic. “This will help you relax, little rabbit.”

“...I thought I was Cinderella?”

“I thought you hated that nickname?”

He sighed in irritation, knowing exactly where this was going. You changed the subjects on purpose, trying to delay this for a bit longer. “Come on, it’s not like it’s gonna bite you.”

Slowly, you grabbed the joint from his hand. Carefully bringing it closer to your mouth and letting its weight rest over your lips for a moment, before inhaling deeply. Something you quickly regretted before coughing rapidly, suffocating on the smoke burning at the back of your throat. The room was filled with coughing and a laughing fit coming from the male sitting on the couch. When in the world did he sit down?

“How...ack!...How do you enjoy this crap?!” You wheezed painfully, glaring at Suna while he held the sides of his stomach, his body was shaking tremendously from his laughter that he nearly slid off the couch. Asshole…

Once he regained his breath, he got up from his seat and approached you again, taking the blunt away before you could throw it away, after all it had been expensive.

“Seriously Cinderella. You’re supposed to go slowly.” He pulled you along one more time. Sitting back on his previous spot as he helped position your legs to his sides so you straddled his lap just nicely enough for him to admire the sight in front of him. “I suppose you could use some help, mmm?”

You looked at him in both embarrassment and confusion. Watching him smoke that cursed thing so easily, no coughing fits, no choking on the smoke, nada. How long had he been doing this? All your attention was on the embers coming to life with his breathing, too focused on that precious light to notice the hand making its way around your back, casually tracing circles on your upper back.

That same hand pulled you again, this time with such care that it was impossible to resist the contact, not even when he pulled the blunt away before reaching out for your face, holding you close by the cheeks as your lips brushed against each others. You focused every bit of attention on that feather like touch, that was shortly followed by a fain gust of smoke. It felt so intimate being like this, being held so closely by someone you’ve known since high school, and being able to catch up after all this time wasn’t such a bad experience after all…

Then something in the air took a sharp turn when he closed the distance between your lips, once again capturing them with his own. But this time that weight on your shoulders was absent. That fear that always haunted your every action, every decision, every single thought, it was all gone.

For once in your life, you were not afraid anymore…

Your arms me their way around his neck, deepening the kiss with an intensity Suna didn’t even know was possible for someone as meek and quiet as you. No wonder people always joke that the quietest ones are the most perverse.

“Haha...That’s the spirit, Cinderella.”

The arms around your body pulled your hips down, grinding the spot between your legs against something hard, it didn’t take a genius to know where this was heading. You just let his arms guide you through it, enjoying the grinding of his growing erection and the low grunts he gave, easily muffled by the deafening music blaring through the other side of the door.

“Enjoying yourself?” If only you could see the mischievous smirk on his face when the only reply he got was a loud whimper. If only you could see the effect those little noises had on the male humping through your clothes, eager to get a taste of your body after all this time pining after you. “Fuck, you’re really into this, huh? You dirty little girl.”

Was it his words? The blunt finally starting to kick in? Both? Whatever it was, it made waves of heat radiate off your skin, covering it with a thin layer of sweat that made your clothes suffocating. Every fiber of these borrowed tight fitting clothes kept sticking oh so painfully over your body.

It felt like a torture having to part away from Suna, but these clothes had to leave. He had to admit watching as your top left your body was a delicious show, one he really wanted to take part in as he reached out to help remove your bottoms, leaving your body displayed to him, covered in nothing but a scandalous set of lingerie.

“Not so innocent, are you?”

As soon as you got within his arm’s reach, he pulled you back into his lap again. This time however, he had you sitting down between his open legs, with your bare back leaning against his chest. Not only did Suna have a way with words that could easily rile anyone up, but he also had a way to do wonders with his hands. 

The blunt was left over the window’s edge, forgotten in favor of your lace covered chest. Which he began squeezing softly, pinching the fabric over your nipples every time you released a whimper because of his intoxicating touches.

“Do you ever play with your nipples the same way you play with your pussy?”

“N-No…!”

“You’re an awful liar, Cinderella.” He slid one hand under your bra, pinching an erect nipple between his fingers while his other hand made his way to trace small circles over your panties, enjoying the feeling of damp fabric under his fingers. “You can tell a lot about people by looking them in the eye. You’re so desperate to be fucked silly.”

The lace over your chest is pulled upwards, releasing the soft mounds from their restraints with a soft bounce before a hand quickly latched on to one of them. Squeezing in sync with the fingers making their way inside the black lingerie, one began prodding its way between sloppy folds, gathering enough of your arousal before delving deeper into your cunt.

“Mmmm!….It feels so...weird.” Your back arches with each thrust of his finger against your soft walls “Suna, please!” Rather than slowing down he pushes another finger inside, thrusting and scissoring them at a leisurely pace to prepare you for the real thing.

“Come on, I know you can do better than that.” He swiftly wraps an arm under your chest as soon as your body starts writhing, buckling against the digits buried deep inside. The calloused texture, a result of his constant games of volleyball, provide additional stimulation. “Now, hold still. Look at you, taking my fingers so well.”

If only you could wipe that smirk of his face, but your hands were currently balled up into tight fists, nails digging painfully into the skin of your palms with ferocious strength, threatening to rip through the flesh at any moment. 

“Does it feel this good when you’re touching yourself?” You began squirming again, unable to take anymore of his touch, it’s too much, your body couldn’t take it anymore. It jerked furiously as it reached an orgasm, knocking the air out of your lungs with its strength.

If only you could see the look on Suna’s face as he leaned forwards over your shoulder, observing the heave of your chest with heightened desire. The throbbing in his pants turned unbearable when your walls clenched around his hand, soaking it with your sweet release that dripped down on the couch. 

God, he wanted to be inside you so badly. He wanted to ruin that sweet little hole, wreck it and fill it with his cum until the only thing that came out of your parted lips was his name.

“Ready for the best part, you little whore?” You were still too dazed to answer him, not even when he laid you face down on the couch, pulling your hips up to hook two fingers over the waistband of those soaked panties, pulling them away and taking them off before shoving them in his pocket. He grunted at the sight of those dripping folds, grabbing the flesh of your bare ass to get a better look at that slick cunt ready to be pleased. “I want to taste your pussy so badly, Cinderella.”

His hand left your skin just as quickly. You felt his weight leave the cushion, hearing the rustle of fabric even with the music from the party still blaring downstairs. One sound caught your attention among all the noise. The sound of a zipper being undone lures you attention like a sweet melody. And when your face follows the source you’re greeted by such an alluring sight of a well toned chest, with ripped muscles from years of training in the volleyball team despite Suna’s lean frame.

You wanted to run your hands acrossthem again, caress and kiss that bare skin. But Suna had other plans as he lowered both pants and boxers, sighing as his erection springs out with a small bounce, with a small bead of precum already dribbling down. He was quick to crawl over your naked body to begin grinding his shaft between your cheeks so you could feel the hard cock eager to be inside your velvet walls. “But as much as I’d love to have you sitting on my face. I can’t wait any longer, but neither can you right?”

He let out that signature chuckle when you buried your face into the arm rest and started mumbling to yourself, he could still make out something along the lines of “asshole”. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Cinderella.” He gathered more of your arousal between his fingers, occasionally rubbing a thumb against your clit to tease, ignoring the desperate pleads as he began pumping his cock, covering it with enough of your slick before pressing it down between your folds, with a quick thrust of his hips, he finally buried himself all the way in.

The fabric underneath your face muffed your cries of discomfort, pressed tightly against your face to the point it was hard to breathe. The stretch was so painful, so hot, but it was so fucking good, your body craved for more and Suna was eager to provide.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. You feel so good sucking in my cock like a good little slut.” He gripped your hips harshly, giving short, lazy thrust that made you cry out to him. “Tell me how good it feels to have me inside of you.”

“It feels...ngh! It feels great, Suna!” A hand smacked your ass painfully, leaving behind a burning sensation on the delicate skin. “Mmmm!”

“Wrong name, sweetheart.” He gave another thrust, a rougher one that pushed you forwards, nearly smacking your forehead against the arm rest. “Wanna try again? You better get it right this time.”

“R….Rin-!” A hand pressed firmly on your back while the other one tilted your hips upwards, it helped Suna brush against a different spot, one that brought tears to your eyes with every thrust. An arm reached back to hold on to him, just to be grabbed by the wrist and twisted behind your back, trapped in place while Suna began moving faster “Eh, close enough. Be grateful your pussy feels so good, otherwise I would’ve left already.”

“No!” You cried out, “Please Rin! Don’t stop, it feels so good!” You gave him a pleading look and tried moving your hips, just for a hand to smack the tender flesh of your ass, it was a warming to remain still. You’ve never been this bold before, why were you acting so different? Was it the effects of the blunt? Being railed in the middle of a party, where anyone could barge in at any moment?

“So you know your place, good.” you didn’t know it was possible to feel better than what you’re currently feeling, but Suna proved it was possible when he began pounding you harder, nearly pulling out his whole member until only the tip remained inside before slamming back against your abused hole.

He couldn’t take his eyes off your body, of the soft jiggling of your ass whenever he slammed back against it, the loud slapping of your skin, the way you moaned whenever he brushed against your cervix. It was too good, and he needed to preserve that image.

Your arm was released abruptly, and you quickly pulled it back to hold onto something else as the same warm feeling from before began spreading again, sending goosebumps through your whole body. If that wonderful feeling and the music hadn’t been a distraction, you would have heard the low beep of a smartphone filming everything. 

It started out at the spot where you both were connected, capturing the uncontrollable clenching of your cunt around Suna’s cock, the lewd mixture of your moans, grunts, the slapping of sweaty skin and one of the most vulgar songs to ever exist, slowly the camera went over those red marks all over your ass and hips, until it stopped at the back of your head, and the locks of hair bouncing around with each thrust.

“You look beautiful, Cinderella.” Suna cooed. “I wonder what They’d do if They knew you were with me right now.” He hissed in delight when you clenched tighter around him. “What would mommy and daddy think of you?” 

Anyone else would have cringed from thinking about their parents in the middle of sex, but Suna’s words stirred something twisted inside you. A wicked being yearning to make your parent’s life miserable and make them pay for everything.

Every single memory came back in a flash. From the memories of elementary school, where they expected nothing but the best but couldn’t bother to attend the school plays to the incident at college. 

That was the last straw, and the exact same reason why you sneaked out to this party to begin with, even borrowing an outfit from your friend that was perfect for the occasion. And look where that got you, to one hell of a good experience. Probably the first time you’ve been able to be yourself, not just a trophy child to be bragged about during Christmas dinner.

The same creature wanting to feed off your parent’s wrath kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear, sinister thoughts hidden behind honeyed words, craving to watch the world burn beneath your feet….In the end, not a single effort was ever enough to please your parent’s expectations...so, why bother?

Fuck it...Fuck it all.

“Harder, please fuck me harder Rin! Your cock feels amazing!” Suna blinked once, then twice, scoffing in amusement by the sudden twist in your mood, but who was he to complain? His phone was quickly shoved aside and ignored, not even remembering to stop filming as he leaned over your body. 

Those hard muscles you had been craving to touch were pressed firmly against your back, his toned arms resting around your head, and the chance to feel them up was certainly not missed.

With this angle, he reached places inside you that felt like the physical embodiment of paradise. Drool, sweat and tears covered your entire face when he found that one spot that took away your breath, and he began abusing it repeatedly. He too started getting closer to his release, and buried his face into your hair with a growl. His pace wavered bit….but he was so close, and so were you, judging from the desperation as you chanted his name over and over.

“Where do you want me to cum, my little whore? In you- Fuck! in your pussy? Your mouth? Your pretty pucker? I’ll put it wherever you want.”

That was it, you couldn’t take it anymore. Just thinking of it sent you over the edge. Your walls clamped down on his cock with such force that Suna had to stop moving. He would’ve loved to keep going for a little longer, but he couldn’t take it either.

“Rin!” With the last cry of his name, he pushed his whole body against yours, dropping his whole weight down as he finally came,  coating your insides with spurt after spurt of warm cum. Nothing seemed to matter as you laid on the soiled piece of furniture, trying to catch your breath in a dark room reeking of sex, sweat and weed.

It felt like an eternity had passed when Suna finally moved away and pulled out, watching in satisfaction as his cum began leaking, running down over your folds, your clit, eventually dripping down on the furniture with every spasm of your body.

The one thing that caught him off guard was when you hid your face away from him and began trembling in place, muffling some sniffles with the aid of the cushion. The fact you began crying caught him off guard for a moment, until your face turned to the side. And rather than crying, you were actually giggling like a mad woman.

You couldn’t stop that giddy smile. Cheeks burning furiously from everything you felt in that moment. For once in your life, you had the chance to experience freedom in the most intoxicating ways, and you wouldn’t change it for anything else.

“Everything okay, Cinderella?”

“Ahahaha...Yeah…” You turned over and laid on your back shortly after the laughter finally ceased, and turned back to him to watch that familiar joint between his fingers.

“Everything’s fine.”

Taglist: @hawks-senseis @honeytama @wakaoujisenhime @iwaasfairy @shoutogepi @gr0vndz3ro @xplosiveboy @shinsotired

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: Fighting For the Right Side

Warnings: Nightmare [Depiction of child death] ; Mention of death ; Allusion to mass murder and bombs

Words: 3.3k

You were quick to settle into your position in Pogtopia. Every day was primarily spent with Techno, but it was relaxing. You farmed, took trips to the bastion you two had met at, he protected you in fortresses, you two even went mining together. He was a comfortable constant in your world. Even when the voices got to be too much, you were with him. But that might have been what caused it all in the first place.

Settling into the small alcove Tommy said you could use, you decided that you could take this brief moment of quiet to read. You felt safe in the ravine, so much so that you had shed your armor back in Techno’s hidden stronghold.

Once sat in front of the fire, you tossed another small log in the flames. You'd have to go find more wood tomorrow but this was enough; The fire burning was bright enough you didn't need to light a torch and waste extra materials they might need, and the air warm enough you only needed a small throw blanket for added comfort to cuddle during the parts of your book the suspense physically got to you.

And so you got comfortable. You relaxed against the wall and you opened your book. Page 47.

Suddenly, sounds bombarded the child - a mad rustling, and then, twit twit, echoing over and over. They were familiar sounds, not particularly frightening, but unplaceable. A heartbeat was louder than anything else and the small nine year old could only wish that the sound were quieter. That everything was quieter.

The maze was an overgrown thing. Something so large that anyone who encountered it knew they could never escape. The shadows kept moving though; rushing faster than legs could ever hope to outrun. Faster and faster they crawled like vines all around. And soon the child was engulfed. Darkness spread to every limb, smothering wails that spilled from parted lips. There were no cries for help or alerts to any who would listen. Soon, nothing remained.

The crash had startled you awake. Your nightmare releasing it’s hold from you at the sudden sound. You relaxed quickly, however, seeing Wilbur in a heap next to the stairs. He must have fallen again. You pressed your lips together, remembering Techno’s words. “We used to have railin’s but Wilbur, he just really enjoyed fallin’ to his death.”

The brunet slowly got up and pat himself off before looking up at you and smiling. A smile like that could have made sunflowers turn to revel in its glow.

“Oh, hey. Sorry for waking you.” His voice was soft, probably to not wake anyone else if they hadn’t already been awoken already.

"Don't worry about it. It wasn’t a very good dream.” He nodded at you in understanding. “What were you doing out? On a secret mission?”

The teasing smile on your lips grew bigger when his smile soured and he scoffed, grumbling to himself about how every mission was technically a secret one.

Yours fell away when he started walking off, his softness darkened with the thought of what happened during his outing. You hesitated. You didn’t want to wake Techno. You two were only just growing closer and you didn’t know how the hybrid reacted to missing out on the little sleep he was actually getting. But you didn’t want to be with your thoughts. Despite not being even remotely close to the man now leaving you behind, you reached out for him. “Hey Wilbur?” He turned to look at you. "Can you stay? Just for tonight, please. I don't want to be alone after that."

You watched his brown eyes brighten and a boyish grin overtake his lips. It reminded you of Tommy��s. You briefly wondered if his mood always swung this dramatically. “I'll stay for as long as you need." He made his way to sit with you and you added another log to the fire, sitting up so the rock digging into your spine shifted away. Wilbur sat across from you, his presence immediately making you relax.

"So, Mr. Leader," You taunted once more, "What was the secret mission?"

In the coming days, you and Wilbur spent more time together. He’d tell you the most random facts about himself whilst you two worked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pay it any mind.

-

"Hey [y/n], guess what?"

"Hm?"

"I was born on September 14th. That makes me a Virgo."

-

"Did you know I can play guitar?"

"I think everyone knows that about you, Wilbur. Why do you ask?"

"I just thought you might wanna hear me play you something sometime..."

-

"You know, I was once married to this wonderful salmon named Sally. You remind me of her sometimes."

-

“With you on our side, [y/n], I know that we’re going to win L’manburg back. And I promise you’ll have a spot in my cabinet.”

It was decided. Techno and yourself would attend the festival while Wilbur and Tommy hung back and watched from a safe distance. You were nervous. A bad feeling grew like a stone in your stomach as they all prepared.

"Hey [y/n], come here a moment, will you?" Sighing as you stood from the chest you were going through, you felt your back pop in a few different places and you hissed before walking to where Wilbur stood. It was silent in the ravine, everyone just as anxious about the festival as you.

"Yeah?" You asked, resting a hand on his arm as you peeked around him at the paper on the table. It was a map of Manburg with “x”s scattered across it.

"Are you prepared?" He glanced down at you, watching the crease in your eyebrows deepen as you examined the plans.

"Mhm." You hummed, finally looking up at him. His eyes were so warm when they looked at you, just like Techno’s. Even if he didn’t have a smile, they were always filled with that same warmth that made you feel important. The two were more like brothers than either cared to admit. "Why?"

"Can I tell you something and you keep it a secret from Tommy and Techno?" Everything around you felt like it had stilled. Everything waiting for the other shoe to drop. The stone suddenly felt heavier.

"What is it?” He continued looking at you and you found it almost hard to breathe. "Wilbur?"

His hand reached to cup your cheek gently. They weren’t calloused like Technoblade’s. They were the hands of a poet, of a musician, of someone whose hand reached for the quill not the sword. They smelled of gunpowder. Your heart felt like it was in your throat when you realized what all of those “x”s were.

“You would risk letting all those people die just so you could have L’manburg back? Why?”

His voice came out hoarse when he finally brought himself to speak. "Because if I can’t have it, no one can, [y/n]. I'm so sorry."

Your lips trembled. You thought of all of the innocent people who would never see it coming. You thought of Tommy and Techno, getting ready in another part of the ravine who wouldn’t know until it was too late. You thought of the man before you who probably felt like he was doomed to keep repeating this action again and again. When had blowing something up ever worked in his past lifetimes? He had to know that this was crazy, right?

Wilbur continued to stare at your frightened face for a moment. He looked so serious. His dark eyebrows drawn together and lips turned just the slightest bit downward. But his eyes? The warmth that filled them seemed to be slowly draining and being replaced with dark melancholy. You hated that look on him and drew your hand up to hold the one cradling your face. “You don’t have to do this, y’know. There is always another way.”

Wilbur stepped forward, pulling you into an embrace that smelled of cedar and leather. His hand left your cheek to instead hold your head to his chest. You didn’t like this hug. This hug felt like he knew things were going to go horribly wrong and he didn’t want you to see the aftermath of it. “If there were one, we would have found it by now.”

Your hands gripped the soft material of his trench coat and you pressed your face into his sweater. You didn’t want this. You were happy to help where you could, but you didn’t want to be a part of the destruction of a nation. You just wanted to help your friends overthrow a tyrant. “I wish I were as brave as you, Wil.”

The soft huff of a chuckle reverberated through his chest as he squeezed you tighter. “Did you know that that’s the first time you’ve called me something other than my name?” His voice was uplifted at the end. He almost sounded happy by the thought. It was squashed when he sighed, pressing his face into your hair. “I wouldn’t call it bravery, though. Still, I promise that we’ll all end up on the other side of this together.”

You tilted your head up a bit to look at him. “Where else would we be?”

He didn’t answer you, just held you tighter.

If there was one thing Wilbur couldn’t describe himself as, it was good.

In previous lives, he had been a cruel, sadistic god. He forced hundreds of people to compete for his entertainment. They were rats, moles, ants, sometimes even just humans while he played the part of omnipotent creator. He had been a king sometimes, or a hero. And time and time again, he was just an older brother. But no matter what, he couldn’t seem to save the people who loved him the most. He couldn’t protect the ones who looked up to him; be it because he found sick joy in their deaths, or because he wasn’t strong enough.

He never felt strong enough.

When Technoblade had told him of the strange person whom he had met in the nether, he almost brushed it off. There was no way he had met someone whom he hadn’t shared at least one lifetime with. There was no such thing as new players who weren’t just NPCs.

However, when you stepped into the ravine, inventory absolutely filled with different items that you just willingly handed over to the pink haired hybrid with a smile, he was utterly floored. The curve of your lips, the tone of your voice, even the look in your eyes were all new to him. He had never once met you.

He approached the two of you with hurried steps, wondering what kind of trick you were playing, only to freeze when you turned your gaze to him. He could hear his own blood rushing through his ears and, for a moment, he wondered if you could hear it too. The expression you wore unnerved him. It was as if you had seen every lifetime, every possibility. Yet you still had the nerve to smile shyly at him. When you waved at him in silent greeting, he knew Technoblade had been completely correct in his assumption. Your lives were missing from your wrist.

You were an investment.

But no one made him feel as powerless as you did.

You were able to try things over and over and over again. You weren’t held back by memories of mistakes or fears. The tiny flits of trauma they all seemed to feel were just… absent in your being. You were unapologetic about running errands in Manburg and doing reconnaissance whilst you were out, seemingly unafraid during the recounts you had given him of meeting Schlatt and Tubbo for the first time.

And this seemed to hold true in your interactions with Tubbo. He didn’t treat you with the same feral energy he shared with Tommy or the attitude he put forth for his leaders. When you weren’t spending almost every waking moment with Technoblade, the soft murmur of your soft voices being heard through the stone walls that led to the farm, you were interacting with one or both of the teenagers that helped fuel the rebellion. Tubbo told you about new ideas he had, or described to you his day, or even just explained to you things that even he himself knew he would have trouble understanding, despite Tubbo being the one to explain them. Wilbur noticed that you just did that. You listened patiently while someone talked, despite the knowing look in your eye that made him feel like you already knew exactly what they were about to say. And this seemed to carry over into your relationship with Tommy.

You paid rapt attention to the blond, reminding him that even if he was still technically a child, that doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve to be listened to. The oddest part he found, though? Tommy actually returned the favor in kind. It wasn’t so much that you would go on long-winded tangents and he’d be forced to sit there and listen. It was that when you asked or told the sixteen year old to do something, he did it without too much of a fight. That’s not to say he wouldn’t talk back to you, he did almost every time, but it was the point that he would still do what you said without much hesitation. And every single time, Wilbur felt the sharpest stab of envy.

He had questioned Tommy after the first couple instances of it happening before him. He had cornered the very person who had been his younger brother in many previous lives against the cold stone wall on one of the walk ways while you and Techno were out gathering things from the nether and demanded to know why. However, the young soldier just shrugged in response. “They just usually have very fun ideas.” He had stared long and hard at the blonde, the other fiddling with the hem of his dirty shirt. He made a mental note to ask if you’d be willing to do laundry for them when you next went to Manburg. “That and…”

“And?” Wilbur had immediately prompted, knowing the time he had to question the younger was running short.

“They just have that tone of voice. And something makes me feel like I should listen when they tell me to do something.” Wilbur rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to berate him. “Sometimes it feels like they know way more than they should. Like they already know what’s going to happen.”

The brunet’s words died on his tongue.

They all felt like that.

But if you knew so much, why did you never talk about any of your past lives like the rest of them did? If you knew what was going to happen, why were you so patient and let them make mistake after mistake?

The thought sat bitterly at the forefront of his mind as he pat himself off, having fallen off the side of the walkway yet again. He almost regretted removing the child-proofing, but he was an adult, and he didn’t need them, and he certainly wasn’t going to recant his insistence that they didn’t need them. He turned when he heard shifting and saw you slumped against the side of the ravine.

In the dim lighting, you looked different. You were cuddled under a thin blanket, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pressed into a pout that reminded him of a child. He must have awoken you. You looked rather cute like this, though.

He smiled at you despite himself. He was still a little hesitant about being around you. He didn’t need help in his daily activities like Technoblade, he didn’t need a guiding hand like Tommy, and he felt plenty listened to daily, unlike Tubbo.

But somehow, he didn’t feel as loved as you were.

“Oh hey, sorry for waking you.” The words had slipped from his mouth before he had had a chance to stop them. Now he’d be forced to converse with you. He watched your eyes look away from him, even in the dim light.

"It wasn’t a very good dream.” You didn’t have good dreams? What was there to have a nightmare of? He tucked that piece of information away for later, your eyes were back on him. “What were you doing out? On a secret mission?”

His mood immediately dropped, especially when he saw the mocking grin that planted itself on your face. It was as if this were a game to you. “Every mission we pursue is a secret one, you of all people should know that.”

The grin just grew and he felt his chest tighten. How could you act so lax when you seemed to know exactly what happened when he was out there? He turned to walk back to his desk to write about the events that had transpired and quell his anger. He wasn’t truly upset with you, he knew that, and he didn’t want to take that out on the one person that seemed to be holding together his fellow usurpers, but you almost irritated him. His soft steps reverberated through their base.

“Hey Wilbur?”

His steps faltered. Despite your previous mood, you suddenly sounded so small. Afraid. He looked at you from over his shoulder and was surprised to see your extended hand.

“Can you stay for tonight? I don’t want to be alone after that.”

A new feeling sparked in him.

You wanted him? The one who had been so helpful for everyone else, to the cause, even to him on occasion, needed his help? How bad had your dream been? You looked so distraught, so powerless. He didn’t feel so weak when you looked at him like that.

“I’ll stay for as long as you need.” Your eyes held a warmth that could rival the fire in front of them. You moved to feed it and he sat across from you. You two weren’t close in either sense of emotionally or physically.

When had that changed?

He felt compelled to check up on you more after that night, use you as the investment that he believed you to be. No one in Manburg knew of your status, and he was planning on using it to their advantage.

Or, he had been.

But you made him feel safe about sharing things about himself. You were easy to talk to, easy to work around, easy to listen to. You would have been so easy to use.

Maybe that’s why he told you of the plan he and Tubbo had come up with.

You had found your way into much more than his good graces, just like the rest of them, and he didn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire. You were so susceptible to influence, he feared you’d start to see him as a villain. He knew what people would say about him. He wanted you to know his thoughts and feelings before you could be tainted by their remarks.

He had shared memories with you before. They all had. Words seemed to fall unencumbered whenever you were around and they were all victim to it. But you hadn’t judged any of them on the actions they had taken in their previous lives. You didn’t even judge them on the actions they had taken in this one. Despite this, he was still scared you’d be turned against him if he wasn’t the one to tell you.

“I think everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves.”

It was his turn to prove that they were fighting for the right side.

[liunaticfringe]

(via Lucy Liu's Independent Woman - Interview Magazine)

There have been many great sidekick pairings in the history of modern literature. Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, Phileas Fogg and Jean Passepartout, Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet…the list goes on. Yet, it seems there has never been a delightfully tumultuous relationship that comes close to echoing the one embodied by rogue detective Sherlock Holmes and his faithful friend and assistant Dr. John Watson. Written in the form of short stories by Arthur Conan Doyle between the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the opium-den loving Holmes would terrorize London with his intellectual, astute, and stubborn prowess, with Dr. Watson providing medical expertise and chronicling their entertaining exploits along the way.

Doyle’s works have now long been entered into the public domain, with many film and television adaptions cropping up every few years. Still, when CBS announced in 2012 that it would be turning Doyle’s works into an hour-long crime-drama series titled Elementary, it elicited an unusually high response—this was mostly due to the news that a woman would, in fact, be portraying Watson. Her name would be Joan, not John. And she’s now a fallen from grace surgeon-turned-sober companion and private detective, forfeiting her “Dr.” title in the process. The woman chosen to take on this exciting, contemporary role of Joan Watson was none other than seasoned actress Lucy Liu.

Liu, who’s best known for her roles as a fierce and ill-mannered lawyer in Ally McBeal, an ass-kicking “angel” in the rebooted Charlie’s Angels, and an equally ass-kicking bad girl in the Kill Bill series, certainly provides the yin to the yang of Jonny Lee Miller’s gritty portrayal of Holmes. Elementary chronicles the duo’s relationship as they consult for the NYPD on various criminal cases while living in a shared brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. Initially starting off in Season One as a substance-free friend to the fresh-out-of-rehab Holmes with a keen interest in solving crimes, Watson quickly transformed into a sharp and observant right-hand woman who now clearly has the aptitude to work on her own. And it appears she’ll be doing just that—the end of Season Two left viewers witnessing Watson’s decision to move out of the brownstone and start a new career as a solo private detective, seemingly fed-up with Holmes’ erratic behavior.

The warm and delightful Liu recently called up Interview from her home in New York City to discuss Elementary’s upcoming third season.

DEVON IVIE: Were you on set today?

LUCY LIU: I was running around like a maniac, yeah. It’s beautiful today, it started getting a little bit cooler again. But of course I’ve been bitten by the two mosquitos that are still alive in New York City.

IVIE: I know you were recently at New York Comic Con. How was it?

LIU: It was amazing. It’s such a spectator place. Not only do you get super fans, but you also get people who are curious and inventive and imaginative. It’s fun.

IVIE: Did you run into any cosplayers dressed as Joan Watson?

LIU: Oh, no, I don’t know about that. That’s funny! We did a panel with a huge audience so I couldn’t really see if anyone was wearing anything specific, but it’s an excuse for kids and adults to get dressed up and just be crazy. You know you’ve made it when you have super-fans out there.

IVIE: When you first read the scripts for Elementary, what was it that attracted you to the role of Joan?

LIU: I liked the fact that it was going to be about [Joan and Sherlock’s] relationship and their friendship, and bringing that into modern times. And I thought it was wonderful to change up the gender.

IVIE: Did you immerse yourself in Arthur Conan Doyle’s work as preparation at all?

LIU: I did, I did! I started reading the short stories. I never read them before so it was a really great excuse to read them. I can’t believe it was written so long ago, because it’s so current. The characters are so colorful, which is why I think there are so many incarnations of Watson and Holmes.

IVIE: Do you have a favorite story? I love “A Scandal in Bohemia.”

LIU: There were some pretty amazing stories. The one that stood out to me, which was a Watson story that I got to know him a little more through, was “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” He really is on his own in that. Of course it turns out that Holmes has been there all along, but it’s interesting looking into his interior.

IVIE: Yeah, the entirety of “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is narrated just by Watson. And his diary and letters, too.

LIU: Yeah, I think it’s really cool. We started incorporating that into the show, too, the letters and journals.

IVIE: Has this detective genre always appealed to you? Did you grow up watching or reading detective whodunits?

LIU: I remember more of the old school Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys sort of thing. I also grew up with the Scooby-Doo mysteries. Remember when the villain would go, “I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you rascal-y kids!” Those were the kind of the things I immersed myself in. I have to say that my mother has always been a huge fan of Columbo and Murder, She Wrote, so this show was her dream come true. I don’t think she totally understood what was going on with Ally McBeal. [laughs]

IVIE: I’ve enjoyed witnessing Joan’s evolution throughout the course of the show, starting off as a sober companion and eventually ending up as a trusty sidekick and confidant to Sherlock. What can we expect from Joan in Season Three?

LIU: When you see them in the third season, you see some friction between the two characters. Joan is now on her own, she has her own detective agency, has a boyfriend, and has been without Sherlock for eight months. She’s got her own apartment, she’s settled, and he shows back up. I think she’s a little bit hurt by what happened and how their relationship and partnership ended, which was basically his decision and his choice, and he left it all in one little note for her. I think she felt that their relationship was much deeper than that, and that he was dismissive in the way that he handled that.

IVIE: How would you define the relationship between Joan and Sherlock?

LIU: I think that it’s a really positive and good relationship, overall. They really have a good chemistry together, work really hard together, and understand each other. They acknowledge each other and respect each other, which is a really important way to have a friendship. And they can learn from each other, you know? She’s very curious about him and I think he sees that she’s a very smart person—that’s vital for him in having respect for someone, having them be intelligent and thinking for themselves.

IVIE: Do you see any of Joan in yourself?

LIU: I do to a certain degree. She’s a lot more measured and patient, for sure. She’s a very curious person, which I think I am, and I think she isn’t afraid of change. She was a doctor, and then became a sober companion, and then jumped off and became a detective. I think sometimes it’s good to make big leaps.

IVIE: You’ve probably been asked this question many times, but do you think a romance between Joan and Sherlock could ever fittingly happen?

LIU: It’s a question that’s often asked and I think it’s really up to the executives. Rob Doherty, the creator [of Elementary] really feels incredibly strongly about keeping their relationship platonic. He has already taken great strides to keep the relationship as clean as possible according to the literature, but he has also changed so much of it by changing the gender of Watson. To have them have a romantic involvement would turn the whole thing upside-down in a way that might really jump the line. [Doherty] felt really strongly about it and I think that’s the one thing he really wants to stay true to.

IVIE: I totally agree. Even on the BBC’s Sherlock, there are campaigns to get Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock and Martin Freeman’s Watson to become romantically involved. It’s like, enough already, no!

LIU: No way, that’s so weird! People do have that level of friendship oftentimes, but it doesn’t mean it’s physical. I think that everyone just assumes because there’s chemistry the next thing should be happening. I would vote “no” for a romance. I think for sure the creator would vote no on that, too.

IVIE: I’ve talked to both women and men who watch Elementary, and they all consistently mention how well dressed and fashionable Joan is. Do you collaborate with the wardrobe department on styling decisions at all?

LIU: That’s awesome. Yes, I collaborate with Rebecca [Hofherr], who’s the costume designer, who’s wonderful. She’s very easy to work with. One thing we try to maintain about Joan and her style is that she’s a bit wrinkled, you know what I mean? Sometimes it looks like things are really put together, but we always want to make sure things aren’t too tight and are comfortable, kind of like she throws things together. We don’t want it to seem so business-y, so we go away from suits. Chic, but not corporate. Also just to make her seem like her outfits aren’t so put-together all the time. But I’m glad that people really seem to like it, it’s a relief! We don’t splurge a lot on the show, we try to do cheaper things, like things Joan would wear a lot. She wears the same white jacket and shoes frequently.

IVIE: Will we be seeing more of the infamous Clyde the Turtle in the upcoming season?

LIU: Clyde will indeed be in it again. We have to share custody of Clyde.

IVIE: Is it true that Clyde is actually two tortoises? Pulling a Mary Kate and Ashley in Full House on us?

LIU: Yes. It’s just like having twins on a show. Just in case one is crying and screaming and passed out or something.

IVIE: You made your directorial debut for an episode of Elementary last season [“Paint It Black”]. Do you have plans to direct an episode again soon?

LIU: That was so exciting. I’ll be directing another episode again very shortly in December, so you’ll be seeing it in a month and a half.

IVIE: Where did your interest in directing come from?

LIU: I guess I was curious about it. Having been in this business for a while, you kind of see and get a glimpse of everything doing film and television. I think it seemed like a natural progression to go into directing, and I hope to explore more of it, because it’s very exciting and a really good way to collide all the things that you’ve known and experienced in the business and put them all into one.

IVIE: Is there an ideal guest star that you’d like to see on the show in the upcoming season?

LIU: I would love to see Mycroft come back. I really think there was a wonderful tension for Mycroft and Sherlock as well as the triangle that occurred when Joan became involved with him. There’s something very deep about that relationship, and I also think that Rhys Ifans is a fantastic actor. He commands the screen, but off-screen he’s incredibly lovely. A real treat to have on the show.

IVIE: I remember the first few episodes that I saw Rhys in, I was like, where have I seen this guy before? So I looked at his Wikipedia page and it became obvious: he was the crazy guy from Notting Hill!

LIU: Yes, the roommate! So good! Everything he does, he just kills it, no matter the role.

IVIE: And it’s always good to have some MI6 action on the show, which Mycroft provided. Some international flair.

LIU: [laughs] International flair, exactly, some added spice. Just throw some spy stuff in there to throw people off their game. You just don’t expect it, you know? It came out of nowhere.

IVIE: That whole three-episode arc at the end of the second season…

LIU: That was awesome. I was lucky enough to direct one of those episodes, which is more narrative in tone. It’s more fun in some ways, too.

IVIE: You’ve done a range of acting work for both television and film. Do you now find yourself preferring one to the other?

LIU: I love both of them equally. The lack of predictability with television is something that’s constantly changing what your perception of who you think your character is. Suddenly I have a father that’s schizophrenic, or I discovered something else, or I have a relationship with Mycroft. The things that pop up and change the game for you and always keep you on your toes. The wonderful thing about film is that you have something that has a beginning, middle, and end, and you have a concrete amount of time to shoot it. And the process of that can be longer, like editing and advertising and testing the movie, so it’s very different. Television you just continue going, no matter what’s happening outside of your world. You get lost in that vortex a little bit.

IVIE: It’s interesting that America is now embracing the “mini-series” format that has already been so heavily utilized overseas, where there are a set amount of short episodes, and that’s it. In a way, it’s kind of like a cinematic experience.

LIU: I like that, too. It allows you to have a freedom of creativity and at the same time you don’t feel like you have to be contracted to something for that long; you’re really working on a piece of art. And then you’re done and you move on, or it comes back, like Downton Abbey. You don’t know. Those things become little masterpieces. The thing about television is that you see a range of actors now that you may not have seen five years ago even, 10 years ago absolutely not, and I think now there’s no wrong about doing television. There’s no definitive category for what kind of department you fall into anymore.

IVIE: What’s a fun, secret fact about your costar Jonny Lee Miller?

LIU: A fun fact about Jonny Lee Miller is that he oftentimes does handstands on a wall before he does a take, sometimes with pushups, to get blood to his brain and get him geared up for a long monologue that he may have. He stays there, hangs a little bit, and then turns around and does the scene. Most of the time in the brownstone more than anywhere else. He’s in full costume and everything. That’s trivia!

IVIE: I wish I could do wall-handstands by myself.

LIU: Oh my god, I need someone to push my legs up and then hold me there. I’m a cheat!

ELEMENTARY PREMIERES THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30 ON CBS.

[levihantrash]

new chapter update!

Summary:

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1: Free Bread

Chapter 2: New Friends

Like routine, Levi found himself waiting for a certain professor to show up. When Erwin called out to him, he couldn’t help but search behind the tall, imposing figure.

“I haven’t seen Hange this morning either,” Erwin said. Levi found himself irritated by Erwin’s discernment and by his own discrete uneasiness.

“Good morning, Erwin,” Levi greeted, nonetheless.

Hange was late, which Levi figured wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

The morning passed without a single sign of Hange.

“Sorry, are you Mr. Levi?” A nervous-looking person approached him, holding on to a well-wrapped steamed bun. A twinge of hope stirred in Levi.

“Levi will do,” he said.

“Dr. Hange said I should pass you this,” the bread-holder blurted out.

Levi’s gaze softened. “Where’s Hange?”

“Oh! She’s rushing a deadline and insisted that I pass you this bread.”

The inexplicable rush of relief made Levi dizzy as he grasped the bread limply. “Huh. Sorry that you have to be an errand boy today.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Moblit, their teaching assistant! Dr. Hange helps me out with my master’s thesis because they’re my advisor. This is just my way of saying thanks. Dr. Hange also treats me to meals, gives me detailed comments for my work… though they might go overboard when it comes to giving speeches about the importance of world-building and honing your craft, it’s inspiring how dedicated they are in what they do.”

Moblit took a deep breath, making up for lost air in between the lengthy, whole-hearted sentences.

“Is that so…” Levi said, suddenly contemplative. “Do you want some tea?”

“Are you getting it from the staff pantry?”

“No, that stuff’s stale as shit. I have better tea, wait here.”

Levi recalled Erwin asking him in front of everyone in the staffroom if he wanted the staffroom snacks. Hange followed up, speaking at a volume that was clear enough for most of the staff to overhear, orchestrating a deliberate conversation with Erwin.

“Since there are no hard rules as to who the snacks and drinks are catered for, and technically, Levi is a staff member, he should have access to the snacks!”

None of the professors objected. It was probably because open prejudice would be socially unacceptable, Levi thought.

Begrudgingly, he accepted Erwin’s offer, and in full view of everyone, took a candy bar.

Hange gasped. “Just one?” Levi glared at them.

“Aren’t the snacks for your little sister?” Hange asked. He nodded, sensing the collective spike in sympathy for him in the staffroom.

After the whole stage, the trio huddled conspicuously in a corner outside the staffroom.

Hange whispered to Levi, “You could have played along better!”

“Erwin’s tired of your skit,” Levi said, overwhelmed and annoyed at the turn of events.

“No he’s not!” Hange said sternly, before gulping down half a bottle of water.

Erwin, standing in between them, told Hange to keep it down.

“Thanks, you two.” Levi found himself staring at the floor, embarrassed that his two friends had to construe him as a pitiful character for him to get a few snacks, even though he had been informed of the plan prior.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hange said, their lips compressed into a hard, grim line. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t even get snacks and refreshments as part of the staff.”

“I’m used to it.”

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, you have us,” Hange said, still put off.

They squared their shoulders impressively. “Right Erwin?”

“You can rely on us, Levi,” Erwin surmised, equally sombre.

Growing more ruffled by their declarations, Levi hissed, “I don’t need two bodyguards.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Hange joked. “Some people have told me about the deathly aura you emit that I must have missed…”

Fixing their attention at a vague distance, Hange’s playful jibes dwindled into an idle pondering, “I wonder if you found some joy in our companionship at least.”

They’re talking about joy and friendship again… Levi thought.

He found himself back in the present, handing a cup of black tea to Moblit, guiding him towards a bench.

Moblit squeaked out, “Thank you!”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, betraying none of his real curiosity.

“Hange gave me a description…” Moblit began, not making eye contact with Levi.

“Did they? What’s the description?” Knowing Hange’s brand of humour, Levi braced himself.

Moblit shuffled in his seat, terribly reluctant. “They said to look out for a cold, black-haired man with an undercut, wearing an apron, gloves and brandishing a mop while scolding people to not step on wet floors.” Levi made a mental note to strangle Hange.

Moblit quickly supplemented, “You’re not actually cold though!”

“How would you know that?”

“Um… you’re offering me tea?”

Levi clicked his tongue. “That’s a low bar for human decency. You should have higher standards.”

“You’re right, Mr. Levi… I mean Levi.”

Levi noted Moblit’s jittery manner when he briefly checked his phone for a message and let out a small groan.

“Hey, you look worried sick. You didn’t receive a death threat, did you?”

Moblit laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, you see, I’m one of the editors for the bi-annual literary magazine and we’ve been looking for illustrators…”

“I take it that you haven’t been successful?”

“Yes… I just received someone’s rejection. It’s okay, we’ll find one,” Moblit said, although his panicked lip-biting ran contradictory to his optimistic statement. Levi’s hands twitched again. He folded them promptly into his apron pockets.

Upon finishing the tea, Moblit stood up and gave a tiny, polite bow. “It was nice meeting you Levi. Thanks for listening and for the tea!”

“Good luck,” Levi said, in time before Moblit rushed off.

Bagging up the rubbish, Levi heaved the load on his shoulder easily, only to be startled by the appearance of Hange.

“Fuck! Can you stop jumping out of nowhere?” Though momentarily disconcerted, the tension built up from the day unwound instantaneously, leaving his body loose and feeble.

“Levi! Did you shit yourself?” Hange sang. They accidentally bumped into the gigantic rubbish bag, falling butt-first onto the ground, phone in hand.

“Be careful,” Levi said, in the same monotonous voice he used regardless of the situation. Unless the situation involved Hange leaping out of nowhere. He looped his free arm under their armpit to pull them back up. Hange, flushed from running, placed their phone in his hands with ill-contained excitement.

“Look at what I found!”

“Oi, what’s this—” Levi scanned the phone, his mouth running dry.

“I’m going to recruit this artist. For my comic.”

It was a sketch of a cat being patted by a person with messy, tied-up hair, their hands stroking its head.

“Don’t you think the person looks familiar? Isn’t the cat cute… remember how I told you I have one at home?” Hange released their brown hair from a voluminous ponytail, biting the rubber band in their mouth.

He swallowed. “I drew that.”

Hange’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding!”

“Do I look like I make such shit jokes?”

“Personally, I find your shitty jokes very funny. This is exciting news! Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist when I was trying to find one for my comic?”

Levi found her question preposterous. “You could easily find a better one. I’m inexperienced.”

“I’m also an inexperienced writer. I barely wrote one book and a few articles!”

“You’re a professor. You have the title for a reason. I just draw for fun.”

Hange spared him a baffled look. “Please. You have no idea how many great writers never become professors. And how some professors never write great books. I thought you of all people would know that a title doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought you of all people would know that titles hold their value here, even if we think they’re stupid and don’t mean shit.”

“I know that, Levi. I’m saying, drawing for fun doesn’t make you inexperienced or unworthy of being the artist for my comic. Besides, I chose you before I even knew it was you!” Hange said triumphantly.

Locking the phone screen, Levi reiterated, “I draw for fun.”

“Then this will be our fun project!”

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

“You won’t be broke.” Erwin slipped into their conversation as though he had always been there. It was uncanny.

“What do you mean?” Levi stared questioningly at Erwin.

“You’ll be paid for your work, Levi. Hange as well,” Erwin said simply.

“You’re paying us?” Hange and Levi asked, in unison. One, in disbelief, and the other, in delight.

“A publisher will be paying you. I’ve secured funding.”

Levi gritted his teeth. “A publisher wants to sponsor a comic that hasn’t even been written?”

“I told you, Levi,” Hange interrupted. “I’ve already submitted a draft!”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

Levi had so many questions. “How?”

“Because it’s a good story.”

“Did you bribe them? Threaten them?”

“It is a risk,” Erwin admitted.

“It’s a fucking gamble,” Levi emphasised. “Don’t know why you’re so invested in this comic.”

Hange had other worries. “Levi, did you think I wasn’t going to pay you?”

Levi hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t this just a fun side-project?”

Hange’s face came closer to his. With the enhanced proximity, Levi stopped breathing altogether. Their face was deadly solemn.

“Listen, Levi, creating art is hard work. Your hard work. Any artist deserves to be paid. It’s not because our relationship is transactional. It’s because it’s only right.”

Erwin added, “We’re not going to accept your art for free.”

Pushing Hange back firmly with his hands on their shoulders, Levi argued, “Plenty of people have access to my art online for free.”

“That’s your choice. We insist.” Hange grinned. “And we think we deserve to be paid too. Even I’m surprised that my project has early compensation.”

Part of Levi’s resolve ebbed away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me!”

“First, you have to tell me what your story is.” Levi gathered up the last of his self-respect. “And if we’re going to be working together, I’ll need your number.”

Erwin raised an innocent eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you need mine too?”

“Stop teasing him, Erwin,” Hange said, grabbing the rubbish bag from Levi, struggling to balance its weight over their shoulders.

Just as Levi felt a shred of gratitude, Hange remarked, “What if he doesn’t agree to do the comic together?”

Patience running thin, Levi stomped on both their feet in a fit of unrestraint that diverged from his unaffected demeanour.

Eyes twinkling, Hange couldn’t help but feel immense glee at the prospect of working with Levi. What was probably Levi’s withheld strength made them certain that he only wanted to dirty their shoes, not bruise their toes. Like Hange would care about the cleanliness of their battered sneakers.

In front of an ordinary apartment door, Hange dug into the depths of their bag to fish out a ring of keys. The size of the ring was unprecedentedly big; the choice of keychain most definitely random, a freebie handed out to new staff that blatantly displayed the university’s name.

Without that much bribery of tea, bread, and friendship, Levi found himself standing beside Hange as they busied themselves in finding the key to their apartment. Erwin had bailed due to having another Important Meeting with Important People, even during a weekend, but encouraged Hange and Levi to take time to discuss the comic.

Hange hadn’t expected Levi to agree so readily to kickstarting the project, and with the generous reception Levi gave (a curt nod and a follow-up question), they thought it’d be best if they invited him over to their apartment. Just so he wouldn’t mistake Hange as a mere business partner. Now that would be upsetting.

Hange pushed the ludicrous speculation out of their head. Levi was first and foremost, a good friend. His bored appearance revealed glimpses of surprise, satisfaction, moodiness, and suspicion. Hange held on to these pieces with the determination to collect them all. Surely, Levi must have figured them out by now. This endless, unabashed interest Hange had taken in him.

“Why are we meeting at your place? Do you need to take a huge shit? Does the toilet at home have a better flush?”

Although Levi had no qualms about visiting Hange’s apartment, he found it unnerving to have a work discussion in someone’s living quarters. It felt too intimate, too casual. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being sucked in further into Hange’s life. They asked so many questions, yet barely answered any about themselves.

Whether intentionally or not, Hange was someone shrouded in mystery to Levi. He couldn’t ask questions either—he wouldn’t—because he was unaccustomed to expressing himself in front of people. More than that, he could envision Hange’s sharp wit poking a clean hole through his muted facade. “You’re interested in my life, Levi?” Damn that four-eyes for being so perceptive. Or was he so easy to read?

“It’s more fun,” Hange said, eventually stuffing the correct key into the keyhole, a smooth click welcoming them. “Plus, I want to introduce you to my friends! Part of the reason why I took up the position at this university.”

“Friends?” Levi asked, slipping out of his shoes to step into the apartment.

“Hange!” A voice rang, and Hange was wrapped in a hug.

“Onyankopon! I saw you yesterday—”

“Three days ago, to be exact, since you always sleep over on the lovely desk at the university.” A smooth voice entered, coming from a woman standing comfortably against the wall.

As the tallest body let go of Hange, it allowed Levi to take in the congenial features of a man whose shoulders rivalled Erwin’s towering, well-built stature. While Erwin’s smile was measuredly cordial, Onyankopon’s was candidly sincere. Watching Hange and Onyankopon, Levi felt as though he were intruding into a family reunion that had invited the entire neighbourhood. Here, he was the guest who came for the free flow of food and drinks.

“I’ve missed you too Pieck!” The woman named Pieck ruffled Hange’s hair, offering them an embrace.

Hange pulled Levi by the elbow, pointing to the new people. “Meet my roommates and college friends, Onyankopon and Pieck!”

“Hi,” Levi said, uncertain as to what else he could affix his terse greeting with. Hange resolved that predicament for him, going into further details about their friends.

“Onyankopon is a researcher and engineer! I can’t tell you the technical specifics of what he does, though, I always get them wrong. Oh, and he’s religious, but he won’t try to convert you.” Onyankopon nodded, affirming Hange’s unflattering introduction.

“Pieck… Pieck is a gardener, florist, and avid gamer! That’s why she’s always bent over, whether it’s tending to her plants or her high score in front of the monitor.”

“It’s not why I need the crutches though,” Pieck said. Hange squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Seems like my friends are all nerdy. Maybe that’s why I like them?” A sheepish smile graced Hange’s lips.

Onyankopon gestured towards Hange, imitating their dramatic flourish. “And this is Hange Zoe, the nerdiest of them all. Obsessed with words. Recently obsessed with science fiction. They’re always reading or writing, and once they start on something, their butt doesn’t leave the chair.”

Levi’s eyes flitted around the apartment—it was relatively tidy, with a couple of framed photos and artworks. A blanket on the couch made it homely enough. His inspection didn’t miss Hange’s notice.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s neat,” he replied.

“That’s a compliment!” Hange took care to disclose this to their two friends.

“All your previous partners don’t take off their shoes, Hange. I hope he isn’t one of those.” Pieck said, using their crutch to relocate Hange’s haphazard shoes to a corner, flipping them the right side up. Levi liked her already.

“That’s gross,” Levi said apathetically, wiping away the horrifying image of dirt-smeared carpets and tiles creeping into his consciousness.

“He’s very clean, don’t worry,” Hange said easily. “Some might even say it’s his obsession.”

“I’m the cleaner at the university.” Onyankopon and Pieck turned towards Hange with patented disapproval.

“Levi, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think we’ll make good friends,” Pieck said, bemused.

Hange beamed at Levi. “You’ll love Pieck! She’s really quiet most of the time, just like you. Not to mention she pretends that she hates me. Just like you.”

“Good to know,” Levi said, enjoying the banter a bit too much.

“Hange says she’s going to get you to draw me, as a titan,” Pieck said, evidently sceptical.

“What’s a titan?”

“The giant, naked people I told you about, Levi! They’re called titans!”

“Why are they called titans?”

Hange landed on the sofa with a plop, patting the seat beside them for Levi to sit. “In Greek mythology, titans are immortal giant gods who were banished to the underground.”

Levi, who had little knowledge of Greek mythology, made a mental note to search for references online.

“Therefore, the titans are kind of like vengeful giant gods from the underground who have come to earth to wreak havoc on what the gods have built, which is human civilisation, basically.”

“Basically, I am wonderful enough to be titan-material,” Pieck drawled, propping their crutch at the side of the couch, sliding onto the cushions.

“A special titan that walks on all fours! Um, that’s the plan for now,” Hange said brightly.

Onyankopon, who had been content with listening, clapped his hands together in sudden realisation. “Hange, now that you’re finally home, you can take a shower.”

“I should, right?” Hange scratched their head, feeling the slickness of unwashed neglect.

Levi crinkled his nose as Hange reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. “That’s disgusting.”

“And here you are, still.” Pieck’s amiable statement prickled at his skin like a light warning before impending exposure.

“Hange must really want to make a good impression if they’re showering now,” Onyankopon said, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Onyankopon pushed a newly made cup of tea towards Levi, with the steady confidence that could only come from having known prior that it was the beverage that Levi would desire. “Make yourself at home.”

Levi said his thanks, to the hospitality of two people he scarcely knew, and to Hange, who likely told them about the tea.

Cold water blasted them in the face, as Hange became cognizant of the necessity of showering more regularly. It wasn’t like they thrived in the dirt. Hypothetically, showering wasn’t that troublesome. The shower kept forgetting itself until it was three days later and Hange stank with regret and mild self-loathing. Still, the shower felt good, giving them new clarity about the fact that they had invited Levi into their inner social circle. How would he fare? Would he be uncomfortable? Hange massaged shampoo into their hair, recalling their conversation with Pieck and Onyankopon.

After much elaboration on adapting to a new university, their visits to an amazing bakery, and the fostering of daily encounters with new friends, Pieck had caught on that every other sentence from Hange contained a sliver of Levi-sized anecdotes. The new university was so much bigger than the one Pieck, Onyankopon, and Hange had attended together; it stretched endlessly, and Hange estimated that Levi would have walked 393700.7874 steps to clean just the faculty building. The bakery near the university was fragrant, its selection marvellous, and choosing a new bread for Levi every day was a tremendously delightful task. Moreover, Hange had met so many unique characters since getting to know the people in their faculty, people like Levi whose abhorrence for social etiquette was admirable, and with whom she was eager to share their mornings and lunches. Together with Erwin, of course.

Pieck let out a tinkle of a laugh at Hange’s obliviousness. “Why are you friends with Levi?”

Thinking hard, Hange answered, “I don’t know if he thinks of us as friends.”

“Well, friendship status aside, how’s he like?”

“He’s kind. He doesn’t sound like it, but he’s kind.”

“That’s nice. How’s he kind?”

Confusion coloured Hange’s usual confidence. “Hmm. It’s gut-feeling, I guess.”

“That’s unlike you, to rely solely on instincts,” Onyankopon said, stroking his chin. Hange was a person with an abundance of rationale, a reason for everything, with justification for any ideas. Their reasoning this time fell flat.

Pieck prodded on. “You said that he doesn’t sound kind. Then what does he sound like?”

“Grumpy, sarcastic, serious. He looks like he’s annoyed with everyone. Most people find him scary, I suppose? It’s like he wants people to think he’s an asshole.”

Pieck perked up. “Oh, so you’ve become enamoured with broody, misunderstood people who’re rough around the edges?”

“Pieck, come on, I’m not writing my own romantic trope! I don’t know… he’s a good person. I can tell. He doesn’t say much though.”

“You’re a mind-reader now?”

Hange ignored her. “His art… it’s so evocative. Melancholic. Hopeful. Angry.”

“What was the artwork you last saw of his?”

“A cat,” Hange said immediately.

Onyankopon brought Hange back to reality. “What about him? What do you like about him? Not his art.”

Hange pursed their lips. “Do good people need to prove themselves to show that they’re good?”

“There could be reasons as to why you’re so adamant about his golden character,” Onyankopon said.

“He’s reliable. And his shit jokes aren’t so bad once you get used to it.” Hange surprised themselves with that comment—Levi’s relentless toilet humour was infecting their brain. The corrosive force of the word “shitty” had already moulded itself permanently into their vocabulary.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Hange bent their arms behind their head. “It’s hard to find people to truly get along with.”

Onyankopon and Pieck shared a knowing look.

With their eyes trained to the white ceiling plaster, Hange mumbled on, “it would be nice if he’d talk more openly about what he’s feeling. It’s all guesswork and I’m afraid I’m constantly reading him wrong.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice…” Onyankopon said gently.

“But I do talk about my feelings!”

“Monologuing in your room and reposting vague lines of poetry and sending us memes to cope with your avoidance is not the same as talking about your feelings,” Pieck said, spending the subsequently long moment of silence to snip off a yellowed leaf from the potted Monstera deliciosa next to the kitchen counter.

“Wow.” Hange, for once, had nothing to muster.

Onyankopon’s approach was less incisive than Pieck’s. “You know, I don’t think you need a reason to be friends with someone. If he’s making you happy, I think it’s a good sign.”

“Thanks, Onyankopon,” Hange said gratefully.

“But Pieck’s right about you being deliberately evasive with your own emotions. Introspection shouldn’t be so strenuous, right? Don’t you write about your characters’ internal turmoil often?”

“It’s different when you’re reflecting for yourself,” Hange contended.

“We’ll see how Levi’s like anyway, when we meet him,” Pieck said, grabbing the scissors, going towards another deadened leaf.

“Don’t bully him!”

Another snip. Another leaf fell. “Isn’t he supposed to be scary?”

Hange smiled wryly. “But you two are scarier.”

[katelyn--renee]

Sweet Cherry Pie

Title: Sweet Cherry Pie

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer (Mentioned), Reader 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x pregnant!Reader

Words: ±1860

Description: You and Dean have only known each other for a short time, six months to be exact, but a lot can happen from then to now - especially when you’re expecting, twins no less. Just how close have you gotten? Dean is eager to tell you.

Square Filled: Fluff @anyfandomgoesbingo​

Warnings: Fluff and lots of it, pregnancy (with twins)… that’s it… Did I mention fluff?

Author’s Note: I had no beta for this and this is honestly my first fic - I’ve done a lot of RolePlaying over the years, though, and this fic was actually inspired by my most recent RP. 

I hope you enjoy, it’s short and sweet and any/all mistakes are my own. Please feel free to leave feedback and give me any tips for future fics. Or feel free to give me some ideas for another fic and I’ll see what I can do. :) 

Enjoy!

Check out @talesmaniac89​ for more awesome page dividers!! 

Disclaimer: I do not own any photos or gifs, all rights go to original creators/owners.

BONUS: Here is a crackship I made that helped inspire this fic.

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

        The Impala came to a stop in the old scrap yard and found its usual spot near the weathered green Chevelle, the infamous rumble of Baby’s engine announcing their arrival. Dean glanced through the open window as his green eyes scanned over the old, yet familiar, home in South Dakota. Bobby’s home. The place had become like a second home to the Winchester’s over the years, (the first being the Impala) Bobby almost like a second father and so any time they were near, they’d make a point to swing by, even if the visit was only brief. It was always good to see the old grouch.

    He exhaled a heavy sigh through his nose, reminiscing a moment as the old place brought up so many memories; both good and bad - but mostly good. A particularly fond memory came to mind and he thought about when he and Sammy were younger, picturing his kid brother running around while he taught him how to properly throw an old football they’d found lying around in the field.The memory made his lips twitch, a smile threatening to form. 

    The picture shifted and changed as he tried to imagine what the future might hold for him and the woman who had captured his heart and carried his children - (Y/N). He could practically see their little faces, a perfect mixture of himself and the woman he loved; Her (Y/E/C) eyes and his freckled nose, two wonderful little clones, reenacting the cherished memory he shared with Sam. 

     Their identical grins were wide and bright, beautiful in so many ways. Children had never been a part of his plan before, never really given it much thought before six months ago. Hell, he never even considered it a possibility in their line of work. Who knew that a shared bottle of whiskey and a one heated night in the back of the Impala would change his mind. Sure, he’d been careless and stupid, but did he regret it? Not one bit, because it led him to (Y/N).

    The smile won and formed on his lips with the thoughts, growing in size until it crinkled the edges of his green eyes. He shifted his gaze back to the kitchen, finding her very pregnant silhouette through the window. He tracked her through the windows, watching as she moved from one side of the kitchen to the other and kept herself busy, more than likely filling Bobby’s house with her latest inspiration. It made his heart swell with joy. 

    He knew she’d be safe here with Bobby and after several long hours of debate, she’d finally agreed to stay behind from now on - although swore she wouldn’t make it easy on him and even threw in her best (and cutest) pout. It was in the best interest for everyone involved and he knew that she knew that, too, but also knew that hunting was a big part of who she was; (Y/N) grew up in the life, just like he and Sammy had and so he understood just how difficult it was for her to sit on the sidelines. 

    But there was just too much at risk and Dean would never be able to forgive himself if anything were to ever happen to (Y/N) or those precious babies, especially if it could have been prevented. 

  Sam climbed out of the vehicle first, the creak of the closing door breaking Dean from his thoughts. He removed the key from the ignition and followed Sam’s lead, sliding out from behind the wheel and climbing the old staircase. The wood groaned and creaked under their added weight. 

   They were just returning from a hunt and so, naturally, they were a bit worse for wear; their jeans and henleys were spotted with dirt and grime, their boots caked with mud, their skin scraped and bruised in various places, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t walk away from and so Dean considered that to be a win. 

    As Sam pulled open the screen door, Dean’s eager grin nearly split his face in two. His stomach was just as eager as it audibly growled, the scent of freshly baked cherry pie wafting out from the open door, filling his nose and making his mouth water. Sam greeted (Y/N) in passing and flashed her that signature boyish-grin, dimples and all, as he made his way through the kitchen and into the study, joining Bobby so that he could update him on the case they had been working. She smiled back with a “Hey, Sammy,”, waving awkwardly over her shoulder with the oven mitt still covering her hands, before turning back to her task, removing the pie from the oven. 

    Dean stepped in behind his brother, but unlike Sam, he remained in the kitchen. He leaned casually against the fridge, crossing his arms and ankles while he watched her with adoring green eyes. The light was hitting her perfectly, illuminating her body like a halo. It was breathtaking. Dean was positive that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and it wasn’t just (Y/N)’s physical beauty that drew him in.

    It was the way she’d sing out of tune to his favorite songs and didn’t care who was listening; it was her love of baking and knowledge of classic rock and vintage cars that frequently surprised him; it was her heart of gold, her fierce independence and stubborn attitude; it was the way she could hold her own in a fight against something or someone twice her size (he was certain that she could still kick his ass, even if she were six months pregnant); it was her fiery passion and witty humor that would quite often put him to shame; but most importantly, it was that little round belly behind her sunflower apron that made her the most beautiful thing in the world. 

    (Y/N) were carrying his children and that was a gift all in its own, something that he never dreamed of having. But there she stood, giving him the most precious gift he never knew he wanted. Or needed. And now, he knew he could never live without her or those two tiny humans.

    He pushed himself away from his spot against the fridge and closed the distance between the pair of you with three long strides, his heavy boots making the floor creak beneath him. His strong arms wrapping around her waist and a smile formed on her lips with the contact. His large hands caressed the sides of her belly, sliding around to the front where his fingers spread out over the round surface. He pulled (Y/N) near, nuzzling himself against her affectionately. 

    A delighted hum left her lips as he gently kissed the exposed skin of her neck, paying special attention to his favorite freckles lining her shoulder. She tipped her head to the side, giving him more space to show his affection. She reached up to touch his face in greeting, his stubble rough against the palm of her hand. A smile bloomed over her face as she leaned into his touch, taking advantage of his firm chest.

    “Hey good lookin’,” He greeted between each tortuous kiss. The tip of his nose brushed over her skin, featherlight as he worked his way across her shoulder and back toward her neck. His lips left a wet trail as he went, only stopping at the soft patch just below her ear. (Y/N) shivered against him, the sensation leaving goosebumps over her body and making her crave more of his attention. She turned in his arms then and her hands found his broad shoulders, the tips of her fingers brushing along the back of his neck. 

    His eyes found hers, dipping into her soul and seizing her heart. It took her a moment to remember how to breathe or speak. “Hey yourself, Winchester,” She replied once she’d found her voice, her breath hot and sweet against his face, her mouth only inches from his. She leaned forward, standing on the tips of her toes to meet his lips, her hands cupping the back of his head to deepen the connection. Her lips molded together with his, hot and greedy after the extended time apart. His firm hands slid down to her hips during the exchange, steadying her and holding her against him. She broke away with reluctance, her eyes fluttering open. 

    A smirk played on his lips and tugged the corner up, his jade eyes full of mischief. “I was talking to the pie, Sweetheart, but I guess you’re not so bad yours-” She gasped playfully and smacked him in the chest, feigning offence and he laughed, the sound coming deep from inside of his chest. She tried to keep a serious face, but his laughter and dazzling smile forced one of her own. His happiness was contagious. She shook her head and crossed her arms, refusing to give in. She even added her most convincing pout, the one that Dean found so cute, and refused to look him in the eye.

    He sighed and his expression softened as he reached up to pinch her chin between his thumb and fingers,tenderly tilting her head so that she’d meet his adoring gaze. He was the one who leaned in this time and he kissed her sweetly, silently apologizing with his lips. She forgave him instantly and melted into his touch - both loving and hating the way he so easily affected her. He pressed his forehead against hers and just held her there against him, staring into her (Y/E/C) eyes. 

    “(Y/N) I…” He started to say but he cut himself short, his voice a little shaky with nerves. She watched him for a moment, curious, before she gave him a smile of encouragement, wanting to hear what he was thinking. “I love you, you know.” He admitted after several minutes, breaking the silence and surprising her. 

    A smile broke across her face and tears welled in her eyes, her emotions a little extra sensitive thanks to the two little Winchester��s growing inside of her. “ I love you, too.” She confessed happily, her voice shaky but her heart full of a love she’d never experienced before. “And I swear to God if you say you’re talking about that damn pie again…” She teased, quickly brushing away the happy tears before they could fall completely. 

   “…well….” Dean made a face as if he were considering this, teasing her, but then quickly flashed her another prized winning smile to assure her that he’d meant what’d he said. He dipped his head again, planting a quick kiss against her lips before dropping himself lower, crouching down until he was eye level with her round belly. Bracing a hand on either side, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the firm surface twice, one for each baby Winchester nestled inside. 

“And daddy loves you.” He muttered, his voice low and meant for only them. She smiled softly during the exchange, her eyes welling again as she affectionately combed her fingers through his hair, her heart completely full and happy.

Thank you for reading!! Remember, your feedback gives me liiiife!

Taglist!

Supernatural

@akshi8278​

[heximagines]

HOLY FUCK ANOTHER SEV AUTHOR- YOU'RE DOING THE LORD'S WORK, MY FRIEND. Whilst I'm here- can I get a Severen and Vamp!reader wherein the reader is the only person who can shut Severen up/get him to calm down? 'Cause I feel like if Sev had a s/o, they really would have that magic touch 🥺🥺💕

I love this bastard man so damn much it hurts tbh. This one was fun to write and I hope you like it! 

CW for allusions to an abusive relationship 

Severen was rough around the edges anyone with eyes could see that. But somehow you’d managed to soften some of those edges. Even his family was surprised at how effortlessly you’d wrapped Severen around your finger. It seemed to of happened so suddenly. You were leaning over the bar, flagging down the bartender for a shot, when Severen took notice of a patron paying you a little too much attention. He watched as the man sauntered up and leaned next to you, telling the bartender to make it a double and grab him one too before placing a bill down. Severen knew that you were only going to make a meal out of him but he couldn’t help but feel jealousy bubbling up in his chest. He watched as you turned to him and gave him a smile that was only for him and the soon to be deceased. The man spoke to you in a hushed tone and reached out to card his fingers through the hair just above your ear when Severen decided he had seen enough. Maybe it was because he was feeling territorial that day or maybe he was just antsy but he slipped out of the booth that they’d all chosen to occupy and advanced towards the poor son of a bitch. He snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you away from your dinner, making you shoot him a sour look. “Well howdy there, I do believe you’ve made the acquaintance of my lil honey here.” His fingers came under your chin and he tilted your face up to look at him. You pouted stubbornly and Severen chuckled before pecking your forehead, a promise to make it up to you later. “I’m Severen, and you are?” He turned back to the man had a wicked grin on his face. “Well pardon me, I’m just a stranger. It seemed to me that your lil honey here needed a drink. So I just thought I’d be so kind.” Severen’s eyes flickered to the side as the bartended set the shots down on the bar and retreated with his cash. “Well that is mighty kind of ya.” Severen grabbed one of the shots and downed it, sighing in contentment once the liquid cleared his throat. “That’s the good stuff huh?” The booth behind ya’ll tittered with laughter but you only rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. That was your meal your kill, and here was your boyfriend trying to cut in so his stupid big ego wouldn’t be bruised. He looked down to grin at you when he realized you were still glaring at him, your jaw set. Suddenly he was worried he’d stepped out of bounds. “Severen. Go sit down.” The man beside the two of you laughed loudly. “You heard? ‘ey said go sit down.” Severen’s eyes shot between you two, trying to decide if he was going to let this guy talk like that to him or if he was going to get in trouble with you. “Severen...” At your word he backed up, shoved his hands in his pockets and plodded back to the booth. Not only did the man in front of you laugh but you could hear Homer snickering behind you too. You take a step closer to the man and place a hand on his chest. “Attention down here big guy, I still want that drink.” There was no time to process your words before you were leaning up and sinking your teeth into his neck. You wanted to play with your food a little more but for now you decided Severen was humbled enough. But while watching you stop Severen from getting into a fight was already impressive watching you make Severen completely stop a fight was monumental.

They had always wondered why you were alone when Severen found you. Most vampires stuck together, taking in anyone they’d sired like family. It’d always made Jesse nervous that you came from outside their circle, made it harder to trust you. But you’d carved out your own little niche in his family and Jesse’s nerves eventually subsided. That was until you’d been traveling through Nevada. You’d mentioned having lived there before and they figured you wouldn’t mind a return visit. However, once your stolen Spirit hatchback rolled over the city line to LAs Vegas you requested Jesse pull over. He reluctantly obliged before they all watched you calmly exit the vehicle and start walking the opposite direction, back into the desert. Severen stared back at you, open mouthed and baffled. Quickly he scrambled out of his seat and ran after you. “Wait! Y/n Wait! Where the hell ya think you’re goin’?” You turn and point back towards the city. “Anywhere but fucking there.” For the first time since you’d entered the state of Nevada Severen could clearly see the panic that had been surging through you clear on your face. Your pupils were blown wide and your hands were shaking ever so slightly, he approached you cautiously, eyes soft with concern. Grabbing you gently by the wrist Severen pulled you in. You gladly wrapped your arms around him and held onto him tightly. His fingers scratched soothingly at the base our skull and he squeezed you. “Darlin’ what’s wrong?” He finally coaxed you back to the car and on the side of the road, just outside the city limits you told them about the man who made you like this. It wasn’t a sweet story. It wasn’t one you liked to share. But int the end you’d gotten as far away as you could and leaned to survive this new life all alone. Jesse set his jaw eyes looking to Diamondback who nodded before looking back to Severen who did the same. Jesse patted your knee before turning around to start the car again. “We’ll only stop for a bite, we’ll be in the suburbs before daylight.” You’d known you wasted some of their time already, so you only agreed. You all needed to eat. The entire rest of the ride in you gripped Severen’s hand tightly and chewed your bottom lip. He moved only to wrap his arm around you and hold you close. After a moment he pressed his lips to your ear “Don’t worry baby, I’m here. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you. I promise.”

You quickly realized Jesse didn’t really know where he was going so you stepped in to direct him to yet another tiny dive bar. It was one you used to frequent, but by now you knew it’d be all new staff and patrons. The city moved fast but you stayed the same. When you walked in your guess was correct. The bar was just as low key as you remembered, filled with only four customers, and not a single face was recognizable. You and Severen sat at the bar, waiting to be served, and the others took the corner closest to the door. The bartender was taking her sweet time polishing a glass instead of serving you two and you could feel Severen buzzing beside you, restless. Finally a deep voice from behind the two of you drew her attention, a familiar voice that made you go rigid. “I believe you have customers waiting! And important ones at that. Get a round of shots, the good tequila.” You watched as the bartender jumped, nearly dropping the glass she’d been cleaning before scrambling to work. A heavy hand fell on your shoulder and a familiar scent flooded your senses as the man behind you leaned in. “You still like tequila, don’t ya?” You supposed that in hindsight, coming somewhere familiar wasn’t the right choice.  

Severen was out of his seat and Jesse was across the room before you could even turn to confirm what you already knew. Severen was about to grab him up when Jesse stepped in, holding his arm out and keeping your boyfriend at bay. But that wouldn’t be enough he practically had to wrestle Severen back to his chair as your own was turned slowly towards the predator behind you. A cold hand that felt nothing like Severen’s comforting one cupped your cheek and he leaned in close. “I knew you’d come back. I waited right here.” “We ain’t lookin’ for trouble, stranger.” Jesse cut in, making him turn away from you. He eyed Severen and laughed. “Might wanna tell that to him.” And just like that Severen ripped himself from Jesse’s grasp and launched at your creator. The two men tumbled to the ground and you jumped to your feet. But before you or anyone else could do anything a well landed punch to the face sent Severen flying back, across the bar. His head cracking loudly against the opposite wall in a way that made you gasp. The man before you calmly go to his feet before moving to take a step towards Severen. At the same time you and Jesse closed in, standing shoulder to shoulder to block his path. “I see you went off and found a new family. I’m hurt. No calls? No postcard? Is that how you treat me after all I gave you?” Jesse placed a hand on his chest, drawing his attention once again. “Like I said we want no trouble. We’ll be out of here.” He shook his head at Jesse, smirking. “Not with her you’re not.” In this time Severen was able to recover enough to slide off the bar and wipe his own blood from his busted lip. You quickly ran back to him and grabbed him by the jacket. His hands instinctively went to your waist as he glared across the bar. You shook him until his gaze finally landed on you. You could still hear the two men conversing tensely in the background but you tuned it out. “Severen, you can not fight him. He’s going to kill you.” Severen barked out a loud laugh, “I’d like to se ‘em try! That punch tickled.” You shook him again but his gaze stayed firmly put across the room this time. You glanced back to see Diamondback at the door standing guard and Jesse doing his best to ease the tension on his end. “Severen you promised. You promised to protect me. And I don’t feel very fucking safe right now.” And he could hear it, the way your voice wavered. He’d never once seen you afraid. Not like this. Your grip on his jacket tightened and finally he relented. His posture relaxing a fraction. His hands reeled you in closer. “Then let’s go...” You directed Severen towards a back door, Mae and Homer quick to take the queue to follow. They filed out just ahead of you. Severen stayed firmly put just inside the bar and you were just outside, both waiting for Jesse and Diamondback. Slowly they both retreated as well. Diamond back grabbed your shoulders to guide you away and Jesse grabbed Severen’s to do the same. Before the door could fall shut you heard it, one last taunt. “You’ll be back!”

When you all piled into the car, still hungry and a bit shaken, you wanted to cry. For the first time in a long time you wanted to sob. But you didn’t. Instead you tilted your head back and looked up at the roof of the car, cool hands running over your face. You hadn’t been that scared since you left. And now you were sure if your heart could still beat it’d be palpitating painfully. Silently Jesse started the car and took off. None of you knew where to go from here other than out of Vegas.  

[moontheoretist]

The show currently on had a bunch of stuffed shirts sitting at a round table. ["...my esteemed colleague, Professor Newell, gives too much credence to the ex-Avengers' education. I simply don't believe they all read and fully comprehended the document they were rejecting. Steve Rogers had a high school diploma and one year of art college."] Steve curled his lip. ["That doesn't mean he's illiterate," Newell, a brown-haired man with glasses, said. The other man, his tight coils of hair salt and pepper gray, raised an eyebrow. "As a lawyer, I'd be the first to say legal documents are needlessly complex, but no lay person can just sit down and read a 1000-page legal agreement and absorb the intricacies with nothing more than a high school education from the 1940s. Not without help." Newell ceded the point with a nod. "And Wanda Maximoff is a street orphan and doesn't even have that. Ditto Clint Barton, who grew up in a traveling circus. The Ant Man has an engineering degree, which makes me think he would have ample education to comprehend the Accords, but he had little time to do it in—only the flight to Germany, and investigators say he was likely shrunk and in Clint Barton's pocket, as there's no evidence of him on the passenger list, but he suddenly appeared at the Leipzig/Halle airport. It's questionable he bothered to shrink the Accords with him or bring the necessary resources to decipher all the legalese."] Scott got up and left the room. Wanda curled up and hugged her knees to her chest. Steve remembered the hasty conversation he'd had with Scott before the battle. Scott had no idea about the Accords back then. He thought they were there to fight over killer assassins. Steve rubbed his forehead. ["That leaves only Sergeant Sam Wilson, a man well-educated by the armed forces. I wondered what made him reject a document that his own government and one hundred and sixteen other countries supported, and then I read up on Lieutenant General Ross' record. Any man who has served in the military and heard of Ross' abuse of his own forces and how he used his own daughter as bait in pursuit of The Hulk would have zero respect for the retired general and Secretary of State. Ross was spearheading the US support of the Accords. Whether or not this influenced Sergeant Wilson's decision to reject them, I cannot say."] "This is bullshit," Clint said, obviously fuming. "I didn't need some stupid diploma to tell me the Accords are a shitty idea." ["You haven't said anything about the Black Widow," the moderator said, shifting his papers around on the big desk. "Ms. Romanov is an interesting case. Raised and educated by the top-secret Soviet training program called the Red Room, the Black Widow supported the Accords at first. She appeared to recognize their necessity, but then during the fight at the airport seemed to run into an issue of allegiance in fighting her friends. Understandable, I think. It's why the Avengers should never have been sent to contain the renegades. But who else could battle that sort of might? "In any event, it appears to be no coincidence that the Avengers who sided with the Accords all have master's degrees or higher." "Or much higher," the mediator said, abandoning neutrality. "Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes as a master's in engineering as well as officer's training, Stark has multiple doctorates, and the Vision is said to have access to the sum of all human knowledge. The King of Wakanda obviously has the finest political education as a leader of his nation, and I understand he is also an engineer." "Nothing is known about the Spider-Man," Newell said. "No, that's true. He'll have to remain an enigma." "But it's your contention that education had something to do with renegades choosing not to support the Accords," the mediator said. "I think it's obvious."] *** ["Hello, all. Thank you for time. "As Mr. Sjöberg mentioned, I recently came into some information regarding The Winter Soldier that I felt was of international importance, especially since he had the protection of some very powerful people. The ICC is just the place to turn when the State is unable or unwilling to carry out an investigation and prosecute the perpetrators."] Steve drew in a shocked breath. ["I found this information at a Hydra bunker in Siberia, where Rogers, Barnes and I had an altercation about whether suppressing this information was cool or not." Stark gave an acid grin. "In the course of this disagreement, Rogers disabled my suit and left me in the Hydra bunker to freeze, unable to radio a rescue team."] Sam sank his head into his hands with a curse. ["However, Rogers' 'leave our teammates behind' policy turned out to be useful, because while searching for a way to communicate with my rescue team, I discovered a trove of records spanning back decades on the Hydra supersoldier program. I looked through all of it, hoping to save it and get retrieved before Hydra returned. "What I discovered was more than enough: movies, photos, and detailed plans to assassinate political heads of state, industrial leaders, diplomats, prominent artists, radical leaders and activists, all of whom were murdered by The Winter Soldier. Included in these documents were the names of the ones who ordered the kills, the criminals behind the deeds. For the last three weeks, with the assistance of the Joint Terrorism Task Force, that's what we've been up to—rounding up the bad guys with a vengeance." The murmurs grew into a roar of approval. "Most of the Hydra operatives still living have been arrested for their complicity in murdering countless important figures who stood against Hydra's core principles of racism and fascism. Despite the unnecessary delay introduced by Rogers, who could have put us onto Barnes and thus the location of the bunker that much sooner, the loved ones and family members of the deceased will at long last know, and hopefully find peace in knowing, just what happened to their loved ones, and why."] Tony's voice trembled on the last part, and Steve felt a pit growing in his stomach that he couldn't shake off. ["My only regret is whom I have to thank for this. The man behind the Vienna bombing was the one who revealed the truth to me by showing me the video of my parents being murdered by The Winter Soldier. The man who told me the truth is a criminal. But then, the man who kept the truth from us all is a criminal as well. "Thank you all for listening. There will be no questions."] *** Tony lifted his hand and smacked away the letter he was writing as Rhodey walked in. "Sour patch! Look at you. How're the legs feeling?" "Better now that I tweaked the timing on the left one. Feels more natural now. But, Tony..." "Awesome. You should totally patent that port thing. That was really good work." Tony pulled up the schematics of Rhodey's braces to take a look at the timing adjustment port Rhodey had added. "I don't have time for—that's not why I came in here, Tones. Vision got a call—" "Time, shmime. I'll have Friday draft up the diagrams and application for you." "It would be my pleasure, Colonel Rhodes." "Yes, fine. Thanks, Fri. Tones, listen. Something's happened with the renegades." Tony stopped fiddling and gave Rhodey his full attention. "Tell me." "It's weird as hell." Rhodey dropped onto a lab stool and rolled over to join him. "Wanda contacted Vision to tell him she delivered Rogers to the US Embassy in Nairobi. I checked, and sure enough, according to embassy officials, she made him walk in like a zombie, then directed him to 'Wait here until Tony Stark comes to arrest you.'"

Into the Weeds by truet

This is literally the best Team Iron Man fic I read till now, and it includes all the things I missed from the other ones: acknowledgment of Rhodey’s smarts, acknowledgment of the education Rogues had, acknowledgment that Wanda may actually get angry at Steve when she learns what he did and what it means to her, acknowledgment that Hydra agents who ordered the murders should be arrested, acknowledgment of Tony relying on other people to actually accomplish or polish the things he engages with (JCCT, braces).

The only thing it doesn’t have is acknowledgment that Shuri doesn’t need BARF to help Barnes, but it’s only because the fact that the story never reaches that point, but damn, so many Team Iron Man fics mistreats other charas and I know it is not malicious, that it is because the authors love Tony and want him to fix the issues himself, but Tony isn’t omnipotent god of science and I would like people to get that Shuri is as mart as he is and can definitely handle helping Barnes and making his arm without Tony’s help, as much as Rhodey can fix his braces and doesn’t need Tony to constantly do it for him, because he has proper education to handle that, and also he is the user, so he knows best what is wrong and what is right and what works.

I also tend to like the stories which don’t demonize Wanda more than the ones which do, because I think she was radicalized, but not evil and those stories, where she is an evil Hydra agent or actually went mad long ago and nobody noticed, as much as interesting and enjoyable don’t really get what it means to be radicalized and then trying to de-radicalize and also heavily fall into the trap of demonizing a woman in the same way misogynist media creators usually do and the only thing I can blame is the fact that we all are raised in the society which hates women and even if we don’t actively believe in it some of it stays with us, in our subconscious and affects what we write and how. Everybody is capable of evil as long as they believe something very much and Wanda is more prone to that due to her background. Not to mention that those stories also usually infantilize her and I like to see her actually being treated like an adult she always was, who understands the consequences of Steve’s action for her and who would do something, albeit something stupid mind you, to mitigate her case, because she is an adult, and she like any other adult person would want to help her case somehow.

Oh, and author also knows how the whole “who arrests who” system works, so their stories actually show that nobody in the MCU creator board of creators, including the Russos, does a goddamn research about Europe. Most people don’t have this knowledge, so movies don’t seem off to them, but to people who do have this knowledge movies are weird and illogical.

[chromatic-lamina]

rascal: law and robin brotp fanfic

I have a lot of brotp Law and Robin in my fics, and one fic with them as a couple. I like the brotp interaction. Two cynical and supportive friends, but the writing is mostly in my multi-chaptered works, which are dark or canon divergent or both.

Anyway, I’m going to include an excerpt below. Robin’s painting Law’s toenails while they both chat about current and past loss and love. It’s from a three-chapter work that I don’t think will make much sense without knowing the rest of the world that it comes from, but hopefully this interchange can be followed and strikes a chord with some. I know the LawBin fans are thirsty. Post canon with canon-verse history and elements. This is an older piece.

🐞

Law sat back in the garden recliner in Robin’s backyard, a book over his face. He wasn’t in danger of burning easily in the late morning sun, but had no intention of making himself prey to melanoma. Robin perched on the edge of the recliner, holding one of Law's feet.

He'd spent the night at Robin’s in anticipation of the tea-towel convention they'd be visiting today. She’d spent the night trying to share his enthusiasm as he sat, tattooed arms spread on the table, poring over catalogues. His inked hands pointed out designs featuring disproportionate tulip-ensconced windmills, and disembodied body parts that had less to do with Dali and more to do with morticians.

She assumed all the creators were outliers. Commemorative tea-towels hadn’t quite taken the art world by storm yet, but they did remind her a little of Ryuunosuke, the very cute but badly drawn dragon that had struggled and succeeded in taking them all to the top of Zou. 

That was last night though and now, soon, they’d head off to gossip and gander with the convention organisers, the Dishcloth Dames, once she’d made Law pretty.

“These are so cute.” She pulled at the few black gnarly hairs curled on Law’s left big toe.

“Freak,” Law mumbled, moving his foot.

Robin laughed, righted Law’s foot and wiped the brush over the nail of his big toe.

“When did you last clip these?”

“What’s it to you? You’re the one who wanted to dress me up.”

“You’re the one who’s letting me. You’ve got old man’s feet, by the way.”

Law arched his bridge and Robin slapped it, held it down.

“The sexy surgeon’s pedes don’t please? You said they were cute?”

She studied languages. She had no difficulty with Law’s fancy Latin terms.

“Mmm. I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess you got those tattoos to distract from your tootsies.”

The ink on the bridges of his feet matched that on the back of his hands. She felt the arc of the bone against her palm as she admired the designs, although it was one of the more simple ones to adorn Law and, historically, definitely not his favourite.

“And yet, there you are, making them all presentable and shit.”

“Does Marco like them?”

“He’s got his kinks.”

“And . . . ?”

“They remain in the bedroom,” Law grinned. At times he thought the Phoenix liked every part of his body, though they’d never had a deep conversation about those particular extremities.

“Ah, you’re no fun.”

“I’ve been told.”

Law felt her move to the next digit.

“What colour are you painting them?”

“Tch.”

As if it could be anything but black.

“Well, you sent Chopper out for the colour once,” Law said to her silence.

Bubble gum. Robin snickered, remembering. Law peered at her from under his book, her shoulders rose and fell with laughter. He liked that violet t-shirt.

.

Law seemed so disinterested, and therefore, Robin guessed very trusting, when she or anyone else painted his nails. He usually paid little attention to the colour, or even the action. It was something that pleased those who found it amusing to decorate him. Just so long as they let him read whatever he was researching, he indulged them. A small compromise for a larger gain.

No way in hell could someone he didn’t trust do this, though it had been done. Robin knew that trust was hard won. Law told himself that he let them all think he was vain this way so he could go for their jugulars some other time. Plus, he liked giving the Dishcloth Dames even more to gossip about.

.

Thinking of Chopper, Law laughed as if the sound was rationed—a clipped exhalation. The tanuki reminded him of his navigator.

“Bepo. Lord, Bepo got it into his head once to paint me. Maybe he wanted to practice so he could surprise some lucky Mink in the future, and who better to be his chump than his ferocious captain?”

Robin turned to him for a second, curious, before proceeding to the next toe. Her extra hands manipulated Law’s foot for the best access. Law’s own hand kept the book in place. She liked that silver band he sometimes wore on his wrist—a solid link—a flash of sky reflected in the metal.

“His fine motor skills aren’t the best. You’ve seen his maps. Shachi and Penguin thought I’d amputated my own toes without the benefit of a Room.” A rumble lifted Law's chest and then dissolved. He smiled easily. The book didn’t cover all of his face.  “He even dabbed a paw print on my heel.”

“He chose red?” She loved that flash of teeth.

“Mmm. So. I guess it’s black?”

Robin finished the last toenail and told him not to move his feet about for a while. She then drew up the recliner next to his, lay on it, leant on her side and looked across. Law could be asleep for all she knew.

.

“Oi, talk to me endling. Of course it’s black.”

Law’s lips twitched. Only Robin could get away with that.

“So needy, terminarch. How am I meant to do that without moving?”

They may as well have just called each other Flevance and Ohara. They did at times, but neither could be feeling too off-colour when they did, or the devil fruits would come out to play. The town names as nomenclatures were off-limits to anyone else.

“Take that book off your face at least. I know you can’t read it like that.”

“Your makeup bag’s not nearby, is it?”

“Just the toes today, Dr. Death.”

Good. He was only happy for modification to go so far. He sighed, grumbled, but lifted a hand and picked the book up by its spine, and rested it—still spreadeagled—on his chest. He blinked into the sun, then tipped his head her way. Not the most comfortable of positions.

“Can I sit up?”

The grey of Law’s irises were sometimes shot through with gold. She wondered what his parents had looked like. “Give it a few.”

He turned his face skyward again, his arm over his shut lids.

.

“How about Luffy?” she asked. Luffy was before island living, before Law’s casual feet days. If they’d ever played around with nail polish, she’d never seen the results.

Law groaned.

“He approached my nails as if they were made of seastone, his hand was that shaky.” The softness in tone betrayed the annoyance in his words. “For some reason he thought a pearly pink would suit? Maybe it reminded him of marbled steak or something? Of course, he had absolutely no patience.”

Law scratched at his sideburns with his spare hand.

“He slapped it on, forgot to cap the varnish, jumped on me, bringing the sheet with him, or whatever we were lying on, wherever we were. It smeared over everything; our clothes, or more accurately, my clothes. You know, Luffy somehow always escapes his own chaos—and then he declared the whole thing stupid and boring, as if I’d dreamt up the activity and forced it on him.” Incredulity hissed through the back of his teeth.

He tapped his earrings. "Somehow the polish even managed to get on these. Nami-ya probably talked him into the whole thing for a bet."

“And you let him?”

Law didn’t need to look at Robin to know her expression; amused and bemused.

“You choose your battles.”

“Mmm.” Her captain could be quite domineering. She wondered if they were the same earrings. It wouldn’t surprise her. She’d kept the same jewellery over the years, but added to her collection with each pirates' haul. The ones that Luffy didn’t somehow swap for food.

.

She sat up and twisted her neck. They needed to get going soon.

“Phoenix?”

“Still trying to unearth his kinks?”

“Now that you bring it up.”

Law’s smile, the one Robin and only a few others ever saw, made her lips curve.

“I paint for him at times. I mean, my own nails. He’s got a lapis grounding stone, and his flames are blue when he’s in Zoan form. I try to match those shades—a balance between the two. Other times, I paint for myself.”

“Does he notice?” Marco had a grounding stone? But then again, they all had their talismans.

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t tell him?”

“Not always. Other things are more pressing.”

“Does he know you’re a freak?”

“I thought that was you.”

.

Law paused for a second. He tipped his face Robin's way again, his hand still protecting his eyes. How come she got to sit up?

“The dogs have never liked it. And you know, all that waste. It’s not really hygienic in the clinic either.”

“You operate with your toes?”

Law laughed. “When I do my hands . . . It’s not hygienic.”

.

Robin cast a glance at her back yard – the trees that offered privacy from the neighbours, the small pond. She enjoyed life in the New World now Luffy was pirate king.

“The dogs don’t like it, but Bepo can handle it?”

“Well, he’s a freak, too. Minks wear makeup, right?”

Robin nodded. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Makeup?”

“Being a freak.”

“To the contrary, some of my best friends are freaks. You can’t all be Chopper.”

Law calls Robin a freak and gets away with it. heh. Perhaps. Anyway, I’ll put the link to the AO3 story as the source (just edited it in. This post has been up for long enough).  It’s actually about dogs and links back to another story, and is kinda sad, and features Robin, but is about Law and Marco, and there’s plenty of humour too. If you want to read it, be my guest. It’s an older one, written a few years ago. T-rated.

[snowdropsandtigers]

Post-Season One Rewatch Miscellany

Okay I think details are already fading even though I finished in three days, so let’s try to get some thoughts down.

- Vic’s initial coping mechanism is art. After that scares her father, and with her meeting with Manx looming ahead, that’s when she chooses to cope via drinking to forget. Later on, it’s similar; she’s helpless to do anything when she thinks her only way to fight is gone, so she turns to drinking and stops trying to make her family relationships okay. She doesn’t cope well with being helpless, and the drastically worse situation she’s in when Manx becomes aware of her existence pushes her into the things she was trying to avoid. It’s also something she can do with Craig, who she always valued, but earlier thought of as too busy with weed for her. He’s her only real, unconditional support at the time, as she’s become more isolated due to her family crumbling and her boyfriend inadvertently pushing her away.

- On that note; normally I get at least a little unhappy when you have a story in which the main girl doesn’t want someone who’s pining for her and then realizes he’s great, and on my initial watch it did surprise me a little. This time around I still feel a little pang over Drew, mostly over how it foreshadows what she’ll lose later, but I really do like how there’s no judgment in any of it. There’s nothing to say she needed to choose differently at the start, or that she should be judged based on her ability to select a man. She just wanted to be with someone who was there for her at the right time, who she valued, and who wouldn’t abandon her the way everyone else had one way or another. Also, he was a genuinely nice guy who never gave her a hard time over his feelings. I felt for him all right during my first watch, but now I really like him in much the same way as I really like Lou.

- It’s just so awful to watch Vic’s hopes and dreams crumble throughout the season. She tried so hard for everyone that in the end she couldn’t see herself following up on that for her own sake. Of course she didn’t feel like she could go to art school, given the responsibility she felt she had already failed in to protect people, and the baby that was all she had left of her best friend. She didn’t feel like the same person who wanted to go, and she’d feel like the person she was trying to escape becoming—a disappointment to her loved ones (Craig in not saving him), and pregnant before she could find a life of her own. All of that would build up over the years until by next season, unable to find and save kids from Christmasland for years, she feels she’s just as ruined and hopeless as Charlie says she is.

- Relatedly, as on my first watch, I continue to appreciate the irony in how much Charlie ruins and damages what he claims to love and want to protect. He destroyed families and stole children’s futures, and we watch him traumatize Vic long before he decides he’s going to hurt her. We watch him watch her suffering over Maggie and it doesn’t get through to him whatsoever, anymore than Jolene could get through when she actually tried. We watch an episode where Bing, who he hires to hurt people, abducts and sexually assaults her while Charlie discusses her purity with a guy who, even with his own misogyny, seems more clearheaded in his lack of a madonna/whore complex. (Sure, he didn’t ask for that to happen, but that’s the kind of thing he did encourage Bing to do, and he even validates it later. It’s a natural consequence of his words and actions.) Given everything in the season, it looks like Vic would have been well on her way to escaping Haverhill like she wanted, without having ever tasted alcohol or weed first, if not for his effect on her life. It may not be a certainty, and of course none of that made her a bad person like he said, but he did definitely push her in that direction at an important turning point in her life. I haven’t gotten that far into the book, but I keep remembering the line “what Charlie Manx couldn’t do, she did to herself.” (Or something almost exactly that.) This holds true for the show, and it’s also so true of the man himself. We see that with him and Jolene too, with her desperately wanting to believe in him, him being unable to give her a reason to, and the way he doubled down on it by trying to kill her right after. We’ll see more of that in season two. There are immensely sympathetic reasons for him to be messed up and do the wrong thing , just as with Vic,* but we can also see how his opportunities to have the things he wanted become lost, as with her. I love how he and Vic are narrative foils in this story about both how suffering can inform you and limit your choices—taking into account that limits which “only” exist in your head are still very real—and how your choices are your own. It’s very satisfying to me. A good pair of foils is just…neat.

- Speaking of! Vic has so many foils. Her father, her mother, as a parent. Her own son as the victim Charlie does successfully (if temporarily) take away, where he failed with her. Maggie, as the girl who was hunting Charlie before Vic wanted to, and the girl who wants to try for a normal life just when Vic is newly determined and desperate to hunt him with her. Jolene, who got to meet him before he showed himself as who he chose to be and had to do the hunting on her own. Bing, who we meet as someone who shares her desire to escape his current life circumstances. And Millie. The other daddy’s girl. All throughout the season we watch Vic lose faith in her father, and I couldn’t help thinking, when the calls from Christmasland started, of how Millie would go through the same thing next season. They barely interact and they don’t have a relationship, but I am absolutely fascinated by the fact that Millie goes down a similar path, that her own connection to her mother got her calling on Vic for help and gave Vic help in return, and that she must be feeling some things about how her father let her walk into the world alone, but also what she did led to his death. Not wholly unlike how at the same time, Vic is still disillusioned with her own father and watches him be murdered before she can offer him forgiveness or the hope of reconciliation. That is a wonderful mess of feeling and potential narrative fodder.

- When I heard this wasn’t getting renewed, I tried to look on the bright side. At least it wouldn’t get awful, which it still had the potential to do, and it could remain a story I loved. But damn, I rarely vibe with a show the way I do with this one; not even with shows I love do I tend to feel as on the same wavelength as I felt with NOS4A2. So many other things have gotten renewed that are less good, that don’t try to do as much with their characters, or that I just plain don’t care about as much. Whether or not things would’ve gone badly in the end, this show deserved the chance to keep trying. It’s hard to explain, but as a whole it felt unique, unlike much of the television I’ve seen over the years. The show it reminds me the most of is Buffy; mainly in their protagonists, which is the thing I love best about both shows, but also the blend of the personal and the supernatural, the grounding of the supernatural in real life. (After making this observation on my own when watching the first time, I discovered that Vic’s original creator, Joe Hill, said he thought of her as a Buffy in a different time of her life. I love finding connections between my favorite stories, but finding that it was also a connection the writer was making, and the influence is there, was very pleasing.) But it’s very much its own thing. I would’ve loved to see more of it. In the unlikely event that someone has gotten this far and not seen it because it was cancelled, or left it unfinished for the same reason—I’ve seen a couple say that over the last six months or so—I’d encourage you to not let that be a factor! It’s very complete as it is, and rewarding in how it unites characters with themes. I could’ve done with so much more of it.

*I truly appreciate how sympathetic this show is with everyone. Everyone. Every major character is framed as someone to feel empathy for at one point or another, and this is true for most, if not all, of the minor characters too, if I remember this right. We’re asked to carry that empathy when we look at them, when we look at the story as a whole. This show is so stressful and yet so kind, so empathetic. In my opinion, it is so stressful in part because it’s kind and empathetic, because you feel so much for the people who are suffering. I could feel that, and that’s part of my love for it.

[floofiestboy]

Haruhara Live Q/A Session via Text

Translations of past question corners:

- Question Corners #1-10

- Question Corners #11-20

- Question Corners #21-30

- Question Corners #31-40

- Question Corners #41-50

A couple days back, Haruhara asked people subscribed to his channel to send him questions via email. These are the answers.

Haruhara’s comments:

In this article, instead of a live Q/A session, I answer all the questions I got via email in text form.

Just like in an actual live session, I’ve answered the questions without carefully double-checking my notes and past chapters, so please take this as entertainment. Treat it as non-canon. Anything I haven’t explicitly talked about in canon shouldn’t be treated as such.

Senyuu has technically ended, and so now that’s it’s been over ten years, I’m even answering questions that made me think before, “If I answer this, it’ll affect how they read the main story...”!

Treat it separately from canon! These are just backstories, settings!

source: ch.nicovideo.jp/haruhara-ch/blomaga/ar1939122

Q. I love the BGM on the chapters on NicoNico, so I was wondering who composed them?

A. I don’t know either. Similarly, I don’t know who designed the logos either. But they are nice songs, aren’t they?

Q. Has Alba’s father been journeying since he was young? Did he live apart from Alba?

A. While he’s always been journeying, he came back regularly. If I compared it to a modern-day job, he’d be like a long-distance truck driver or a fisherman.

Q. Does Rchi still have her Mark of a Demon Lord? Do Rchimedes and the Second have the same mark?

A. She still has it, but since I keep on forgetting to draw it, I’ve decided it only shows up when she prays for it to appear. Rchimedes and the Second do not have it.

Q. What sort of job does Justice do in the Demon World?

A. Her job is to be cheerful. Since she’s strong, she has no problems living the way she does. Since the Demon World is still kinda a lawless land, being strong is enough to keep on living on.

Q. Are there only three Four Great Demons?

A. Yes, I just wanted to do a joke where there were a fewer (or greater) number of actual members than a title would make you think.

Q. Is the hole in the world still there?

A. To be honest, when I said that a hole had opened up in the world, what I actually wanted to say was “Something strange happened to the world.” I hadn’t thought about what the hole would be or anything. I bet a giant gate or something opened up for a moment, and monsters and stuff came over here from there. In that case, the hole would’ve closed already.

Q. Please tell me how demons age!

A. It really depends on the demon. Since demons are a race created by Rchimedes going like “Eh, whatevs”, their characteristics aren’t really consistent between each other. I think that demons have long lives because somewhere deep inside Rchimedes, he hated the idea of death and losing loved ones. Though he did play around and had demons fight each other and stuff. While on the surface level, it may have seemed like he fell into despair and raised havoc, I think he really did grieve about losing loved ones deep down.

Q. I’d like to hear more about the Loli 12 Organization and Loli Master the 5th (Master Go Rori).

A. To be honest, I just wanted to say gorori (T/N: onomatopoeia meaning ‘to lie down’). I’m sorry!

Q. Can we no longer see the BL route?!?!!?!

A. Huh?! What do you mean?! - was my first thought, but ah, I remember now. You’re talking about when I drew Ros getting jealous of Alba sleeping with Grandpa during season 2. Since you’re asking if you can no longer see it, I’m guessing you mean that you can’t? I myself have forgotten where I drew it and don’t have the file anymore.

There was a time in the past when I was super into AUs - I drew anything that hit my mind. But then I realized that readers tend to take anything the creator draws super seriously, so I stopped really doing it. 

Though lately when I still really want to draw something AU, I always make sure to put a disclaimer stating “This is unrelated to canon!” before it.

(T/N: Please tell me someone has the drawing mentioned here saved somewhere I need this I beg of you.)

Q. In Senyuu Season 2, Rchi keeping information about Creasion from Alba was treated as a joke and kinda just skipped over, but now that I think about it, unless Rchi had told Alba about it, Alba would’ve basically never found out about Creasion. (Since it was pure coincidence that he ended up in the Demon World and found out about it.)

I was wondering if Rchi really intended never to tell Alba about it even though they were working at saving Ros. 

If there are any such reasons, I would like to hear about how Rchi was actually planning to tell him once some more time passed, or about how she had some other reason and was really planning never to tell, etc.

A. Ros being the Demon Lord’s son isn’t directly related to saving Ros (via finding a way to free the Demon Lord.) Even if Alba found out the reason why Ros couldn’t defeat the Demon Lord, there wouldn’t have been anything he could’ve done about it. So since knowing the truth would just give Alba more to worry about, I think that Rchi decided it would be better to just stay on their journey and keep looking for information. I don’t think she had any particularly strong desire that would make her really want to tell him. 

Q. In F5 Ep. 11, I loved how Alba believed in Ros so easily, and how Ros declared with a smile, “The only person I punch for no reason is you, Hero-san!” How much deeper has their bond become since their early days?

A. How much deeper... how much deeper, I wonder? I feel like bonds aren’t the kind of thing you can measure in words. But I guess, compared to their early days, Ros trusts Alba enough to still be violent towards him even though he’s begun to realize that hey, “It isn’t really good to be violent.”

Q. How do you decide on the characters’ hair and eye colours? What do you use as reference when you draw their clothing and accessories?

A. Honestly, it’s always just whatever comes to me. Aside from the first few characters, I draw new characters vaguely at the storyboard stage, then draw them in properly at the manuscripting stage. For eye colours, in Senyuu I’ve decided that “people who can’t use magic don’t have red eyes.” That’s just something I’m trying to stick to, it doesn’t mean that “Everyone with red eyes in the Senyuu universe can use magic.” Cecily can’t use magic, after all.And there’s random citizens with red eyes out there too. I feel like people’s eyes turn red when they obtain magic because Rchimedes’ feelings towards Cecily were the trigger for magic’s discovery, even in Elf and Alf’s world. Cecily is an important character even though she hasn’t done anything.

Q. Elf and Ros haven’t really gotten the chance to really talk to each other thanks to their respective situations, but now that they work at the same place, I was wondering how close you think they are to each other. If you could expand on how their thoughts and impressions towards each other since their first meeting have changed, I would be really happy.

A. Elf used to think of Ros as someone to be pitied, but nowadays he’s realized that being pitiable isn’t something a bystander should decide, so he doesn’t think that any longer. The two of them aren’t particularly close, but they do chat normally. They’re like classmates who get along pretty well at school but never hang out on the weekends.

Q. If you have any thoughts on scrapped characters like Soldier Rosicks, the Season 2 Alba with the large sword on his back, cat-eared Rchi, etc., I’d love to hear them.

A. It’s less that I “scrapped” those characters and more that I just drew their appearances while I was drawing out all sorts of ideas, so they don’t have any particular backstories or settings associated with them. I’m the type to decide on things like settings as I move the characters around on a storyboard, so when I draw simple illustrations, they’re just empty shells.

Q. I’d like to know more about what happened with the first and third year Hero Academy students after Season 3. Also, how much do Sochi and her classmates know about “Lake’s little brother”?

A. I haven’t really thought about it, so if you’d like me to think about it I’d like to have at least two days for it, but I can’t take two days to think about this question, so the answer is “I haven’t really thought about it.” I’m sorry. Sometimes I can just think up answers on the spot, but I’d feel sorry to push entire lives onto characters based on ideas I thought up on the spot. So I’d like to think about what happens to characters “after” properly. Though I’ll decide things on the spot when it comes to random mob characters and aspects I don’t care about.

Q. The reason why Alba and Salt, who both obtained enough mana to affect the world around them, were able to leave prison was because they became capable of controlling their mana, not because their knowledge reached the level of say, Ros or Elf - would that be the correct interpretation? Additionally, what level of knowledge have Alba and Salt reached by F5, considering that they were getting 0% on even simple multiplication tests before?

A. Alba was released because he became capable of a certain level of control. His level of knowledge has not reached the levels of Elf and Ros. He hasn’t caught up to them, so unlike Elf and Ros, who’d use their knowledge and little tricks to turn 100 bits of mana into 200, Alba uses the bare minimum amount of knowledge to use 500 bits of mana as only 300. 

I’ve forgotten most of what I intended for Salt back them, so I apologize if I’ve given a different answer before which contradicts the one I’m about to give. Salt obtained great power, but he had no talent in keeping it within his body, so the mana was gradually released from him. I think he became so incapable of using magic that he was no longer an exceptional case, so he was eventually released.

Q. I have a question about the differences between Main Quest and the original canon. There are scenes in Main Quest that weren’t in the original canon, such as Rchi and Alba’s discussion in Part 2 Volume 4 Chapter 41, “Alba Expresses His Gratitude”, and Chapter 50, “Alba Is Stupefied”, where Mortmorte the 2nd offers to be sacrificed. I was wondering what your thoughts were when you added these extra scenes in.

A. While it isn’t as though I thought carefully about every new addition, when I drew Main Quest, my thoughts were along the lines of “Let’s go a little deeper into things.” I think that’s what I was thinking when I put in new lines. Also, typically I had a set number of pages I needed to draw for, so I think I moved around lines and expanded scenes as needed to fit the pages.

Q. I have a question about Teufel. In Season 1, Teufel only shows up in the extra chapters, but did you already intend to use him as the “Soul Manipulator” during the fight with Rchimedes in Season 2? Or was this something you decided as you got through Season 2.

A. That was something I planned from the start! If you’d like to know why Teufel appeared early, please read Filled It With My Feelings! There’s even a PDF version!

(T/N: *shills Haruhara* Filled It With My Feelings (Digital): hiaruron.booth.pm/items/2329424 Filled It With My Feelings (Physical, only available to order until midnight JST Sept. 3rd): tckc-ch.net)

Q. “The world isn’t at peace or anything! He isn’t! Meta Ros isn’t smiling!” So anyways, Meta Ros hasn’t appeared since the last episode of Senyuu+, but is he happy? Is he having fun with Meta Alba?

A. Honestly, I haven’t really thought too deeply about it since he’s just a joke character. But since he’s just a joke character, I’m sure he’s off doing his own thing somewhere, free and unrestrained by anything.

Q. Since Lym is a demon and Lake is from a thousand years ago, they don’t have last names, but does Salt have one? He is from modern times. If he does, what is it?

A. He does. I’ve also thought up names for Rchimedes the Second and his wife, but the thing is with manga is that you shouldn’t include everything you think up. It’s more interesting to the readers if you just include the information they need to know. Like how if you introduce yourself to someone in real life, you don’t tell them your whole life backstory, like- “My name is Tanaka Tarou! My father is Tanaka Katsuo. My mother is Tanaka Hanako, my grandma is-” You just tell them what they need to know, right? That makes things go more smoothly. Yeah.

So anyways, about his last name, I did think of one. Yeah. But I don’t remember where I wrote it down, and I can’t remember the name at all right now. I mean hey, even in real life, sometimes you forget people’s names when you just call them by a nickname all the time. It’s like that, etc., blah blah.

Q. Why was Ros the only one to be released from the seal even though he was sealed together with Rchiemdes? Who broke the seal?

A. Wasn’t it Elf who released the seal in order to give Alba some stimulus? Though Alba and Ros’ first meeting itself was a coincidence. Elf wanted to release Ros, or rather, the Demon Lord into Alba’s time in order to give Alba some stimulus, and to achieve that goal he teamed up with Dezember... wait, was this something I scrapped? Did I never write about it? I remember everything until Season 4 pretty well, since I drew a lot until there, but when I reached Season 4 I started feeling that sense of relief like “It’s all over~” and remember absolutely nothing...! I’d need to completely re-read Senyuu to know for sure... every, please re-read it for me! If there was something like that in canon, then I’ll go with that. If there wasn’t, then I must’ve scrapped it, or else I just had to cut back some parts that I wanted to draw. 

...Now I’m starting to feel like I scrapped it after all... because I thought that having Elf doing everything wasn’t a good plot device... I don’t know... 

Anyways, for now the answer to the question is “Wow, it’s really quite strange... I wonder who did it~”

Q. Foyfoy said that Ros was “a soldier from a country who doesn’t know war.” What kind of environment did Foyfoy grow up in?

A. While Foyfoy’s hometown is peaceful, Foyfoy spent time as a mercenary in wartorn countries in order to make money. It’s never been shown in canon, so it’s basically just a little backstory that was thought up at some point in the past.

Q. There’s other countries in SQ, but if there’s other countries in canon would Alba be seen as a threat?

A. There are other countries. But the King of the country that collected all those heroes is so powerful, Alba being a wonder of nature isn’t as important. If we say that Alba’s country is Japan, the neighbouring countries are on the scale of the Fukue Neighbourhood in Kurashiki City of Fukushima Prefecture. 

(T/N: You can see the exact scale on Google Maps by searching “岡山県倉敷市福江”, but essentially, incredibly tiny in comparison.)

Q. Is the King’s right-hand man Maine (Minister) still working at the castle?

A. He should be. He is.

Q. Crea awakened to his magic through contact with the Mana Maker, but can he no longer use it?

A. Crea doesn’t know how to use magic so he can’t. There’s no longer a Mana Maker in his body as well. There may be some mana left behind in his body, but he has no idea how to draw it out, so he can’t use it. At the start of Season 3, he tries to make a flower bloom with magic, but fails, after all.

Q. Hasegawara and Grandpa returned to their youths - did they continue living like that?

A. Since they did technically achieve their goal, they should’ve gone back to their original lives.

Q. In The Hero of the Port City, Guilty Justice says that she came because she sensed Creasion’s mana. What was she planning to do?

A. She probably came to fight him because she sensed some rare mana. Considering canon, it’s strange for Justice to appear in a place like that, isn’t it?

Q. How is Alf and Cecily’s relationship at the moment...? 

A. They don’t have one.

Q. Back in his Originia era, Crea was an orphan, so how did did he survive?

A. Back then, orphans weren’t uncommon. The villagers helped raise him - he lived a happy life.

Q. The princess from ‘Tis Time for “Torture”, Princess and Hime-chan have the same birthday and a similar hairstyle - are they related in any way?

A. The reason why their birthdays are the same is that when I went to write about the princess’ birthday, I thought, “Hm, did I decide on her birthday? Oh right, March 3rd.” and accidentally remembered it as Hime-chan’s birthday. The princess’ hairstyle is entirely Hira Kei-san’s design, I had no hand in it, but I don’t think it’s that similar to Hime-chan’s?

Q. It seems like demons have long lifespans, so does the Demon World have problems with overpopulation?

A. In order to birth a new demon, you need to have a fair amount of mana and a good amount of skill in manipulating it. Alternately, you need to meet someone who you’re really in perfect sync with. Because of that, their population doesn’t increase that much.

Q. I really really love the “three burrs” hairstyle - will Ros never wear his hair that way again?

A. That hairstyle was something done by the first hairstylist he went to after he was unsealed, so unless he goes to that exact hairstylist again, he won’t have that hairstyle.

Q. What is Dezember and Justice’s newlywed life like? Is Dezember the househusband after all?

A. Though Justice was getting things going with the wedding, Dezember ran away so their newlywed life hasn’t begun. Their dynamic is kinda like the one in Urusei Yatsura.

Q. Rchi is now over 12. How does Rudolf feel about this?

A. I thought that Rudolf was good with anyone below 13? Was it only until 10? But even if she grows past Rudolf’s age ceiling, he won’t really stop being kind to her. He would stop spoiling her so much though, in how he used to do whatever she asked with no strings asked. He would instead start saying that it’s important to try things out yourself too. That’s the only thing that would change.

Q. F5 is a regular manga, so are there any plans to release a physical volume for it?

A. Not in the slightest.

Q. Cecily and Lake were living alone together before reuniting with Ros, so how did their neighbours react to a young teenager Lake having a younger brother in his 20s?

A. Their neighbours don’t think of Ros as the younger brother - they more just think of him as Cecily’s son who came back home from afar. I think updating the family registry wouldn’t have been hard with the connections they have in the government.

Q. I would like you to tell me how Januar got into ninja and tomato farming.

A. He got into ninja because they’re cool, and he got into tomato farming because tomatoes are yummy.

Q. Elf and Alf were time travelling in Season 4 - I would like it if you made a detailed timeline of what they and other characters did. (For example, Alf erased Elf’s memories during X time, at this time Rchimedes and Creasion were doing Y, etc.)

A. When I was writing Season 4, I did make a timeline, but I’m not sure where it went... what Elf and Alf did is all written in the article before this one, “My Memos”. I don’t think things have changed much from the timeline there for Elf and Alf, so please figure things out from there!

(T/N: I’ll consider translating that article at some point... it’s a lot of text... and it’s all disjointed... 

Though I guess this Q/A is also a lot of text, I’m already at 3.5k words.)

Q. In the extra chapter in Season 2, “Right Before Episode 60″, Foyfoy asks if Marl wants to come to the castle with him, but do the two of them actually live in the castle itself? Or do they live near the castle?

A. Marl does live in the castle because she thinks it’s cool to live in a castle.

Q. Why are Elf and Alf not returning to their original time (ignoring the new future timeline after their changes) and are instead working at Alba’s research center?

A. Because they look up to Alba and want to help him out.

Q. Do you have any thoughts on how Alba watches over all kinds of worlds out there?

A. I do think, “That seems rather dangerous, doesn’t it?” But I also think, “Well, it’s Alba-san, he’ll be fine.”

Q. Personally, I feel like Senyuu. has a lot of whiplash between comedic scenes and serious scenes. Is there any particular scene you drew while specifically considering this whiplash?

A. Senyuu, is a work I drew as an amateur out of sheer willpower alone, so it isn’t that it has a lot of whiplash between comedic and serious scenes - it’s just that I didn’t understand a thing. “Woo hoo! This seems fun!” was the only thing on my mind. As a bystander, you may wonder, “How can he zoom right into that corner at that speed?” while watching me cruise along in my vehicle, but in reality, you just didn’t know that I was unaware of the fact that zooming into that corner at that speed could result in death. If I wrote Senyuu. the way I am now, I think it would end up being a much tidier manga, much easier to read as well, but I doubt it’d have that same speed and power to it.

Q. I had a question about Rchimedes the First’s character design. Did you give him black and white hair because you personally thought it was really cool? And then you thought it was too cool for him so you made his clothes super lame as a compromise?

A. It was all just from powering through drawing him. I did think “Wow, his clothes are lame!” but I immediately ignored it and continued drawing.

Q. Somewhere along the line, cellphones have spread among the masses - does Ros have one? And really, who’s making them?

A. From the very start, I planned for Senyuu. to be unconstrained by the chains of fantasy and include technology. Even in the start of Season 1, there’s a picture of Ros holding a DS at one point. Since it’s a manga, I completely intend to ignore real-life technological development timelines.

Q. Ros has pretty lax shifts - six day weekends and only needing to come in from the afternoon. Does he really only go to work once a week?

A. He doesn’t even go to work once a week. He does no work but wanders over to the research center to loiter around when he feels like it.

Q. In Senyuu+, Alba seems pretty tired sometimes. Is working at the research center actually pretty bad? As in, does it require a lot of overtime?

A. It isn’t bad, Alba is just going ahead and doing the work he wants to do, then going ahead and getting all tired because of it. From the perspective of the government running it, even just having the world’s hero Alba owning a research center they manage is good enough. It would be fine even if Alba never showed up at the research center at all and never did even one iota of work. Alba is just doing his best for everyone’s sake. Lately, he rests properly.

Q. Boss seems to have accessories and clothes other than his hoodie. Does he buy all of them himself?

A. Yes, he does. I talk about this in the doujinshi Filled It With My Feelings as well!

(T/N: If you enjoyed reading any of this tidbits, please consider supporting Haruhara by purchasing the original article on his channel: ch.nicovideo.jp/haruhara-ch/blomaga/ar1939122)

[schrijverr]

Ashes O’Reilly, Hero of the People

When the Mechanisms have to return to Malone, Ashes, along with Jonny, Tim and Ivy, discovers that they’ve been made a hero.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: not really, but tell me if I missed something or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~

Ashes had never claimed to be a good person. However, they wouldn't call themself evil either.

At their core they were a survivor, who had navigated a cruel world with equally cruel survival tactics. When the world had hurt them they had hurt it in return. Been burned and burned the world back.

Although Smooth Mickey had been right and there wasn't enough gasoline to burn down an entire planet, at least not at that time, but Ashes had burned all that was rotten. They'd planned to come back later and finish the job, but by the time the crew had rid themselves of their creator and became independent that plan had been long forgotten and abandoned.

That didn't stop Ashes from stocking up on gasoline when they needed to go back to Malone. Something about Ivy wanting a specific book that was only published there or whatever, Ashes didn't really care. They were forced back home and they were going to leave it more scorched than they had found it.

At least that had been the plan.

They along with Jonny and Tim went with Ivy to collect the book. Ashes suspected that Brian had send them with Ivy, because that way they would be less likely to mess up the Aurora in their boredom, but still it worked in their favor and they weren’t about to complain.

However, Malone looked nothing like Ashes remembered it. Seedy motels and shady pubs had made place for pretty bars and high class saloons. The dark alleyways were now big clean streets and the people weren’t dressed in rags and starved to the bone anymore.

They looked around in wonder and confusion, snapping out of it when Jonny commented: “The way you told it, I was expecting it to look a lot seedier. There better be a good casino with a stocked bar around here, Ashes.”

“I hope it too.” Ashes replied, “This is nothing like the Malone I left. Are you sure we’re on the right planet, Ivy?”

Ivy nodded, not looking up from her map.

They were distracted again by Tim, who yelled with manic glee: “Ashes, look! Is that you?”

He pointed at something in the middle of a busy plaza in the distance. It was a large statue of a person, the stone figure could be Ashes, but Ashes noted that if the artist had tried to make them, they had made them much lighter than they’d ever been.

Jonny and Tim seemed a bit too happy with the discovery and pulled them and Ivy along to the plinth to read the inscription. There in golden letters it read: Ashes O’Reilly, hero of the people, who burned the vicious gangs so that Malone could thrive once more

Once they’d read the inscription Jonny and Tim both burst out laughing. Jonny shrieked in delight: “You see that, Ashes? They’re calling you a hero, You! Ahahaha, I can’t believe that that’s-  that’s how you went down in history. That’s amazing.”

He and Tim were taking turns, bowing for Ashes while exclaiming in different and exceedingly posh voices: “All hail Ashes, our hero. Hero of the people.”

Meanwhile Ivy examined the statue and inscription closely.

With everyones antics and Ashes likeliness they were gaining a small crowd, which was whispering and pointing amongst themselves. Ashes shot them a glare and snapped: “Piss off, mind your own fucking business.”

A small boy pointed at them and asked: “Mama, is that the Ashes we learn about in school?”

The mothered had sheltered his ears with Ashes’ strong language and pale of shock she told her son: “Of course not, sweetie, that Ashes is long dead they died for us, remember.”

“But my teacher also said they’re immortal.” the boy pouted.

“Your teacher is wrong.” the mother answered, trying to pull him along, but the kid didn’t budge. He broke free of his mothers grasp and ran up to Ashes and asked: “Are you Ashes O’Reilly? The one who burned the gangs?”

As a fuck you against the mother Ashes smiled and for once told the truth: “Yep, that’s me.”

“How are you still alive?” the boy asked.

“I’m immortal.” Ashes answered, with a smirk to the mother.

“Really?” the kid exclaimed in excitement.

The mother grabbed him and berated: “You shouldn’t bother other people, Ashton.” then she turned to Ashes and said: “And you shouldn’t lie and play into kids fantasies.”

“Oh, they aren’t lying.” Jonny told her, “Here look.” then he shot Ashes through the head making bother mother and kid and bystanders scream.

“Great,” Ivy said, “there is now a 97% chance law enforcements will be involved and our chances of getting out without being imprisoned have dropped to 12%, but they can be raised to 35% if we leave Ashes behind and don’t get the book.”

“We won’t as the Captain-” Jonny began, getting cut off by Tims: “First Mate.”

He got pushed down by Jonny who pressed on: “As the Captain I will defend Ashes until they get back and you two quickly get that book.”

Tim and Ivy rushed away and Jonny thought he heard Ivy mutter: “Despite what the calculations say the chance of things going wrong should be 100% with these people.”

Fifteen minutes later Ashes came by to the sound of Jonnys manic laughter along with rounds being fired. They looked around and saw Jonny singlehandedly holding off a big police force. Ashes didn’t even ask what was going on, just started firing as well.

A few moments later Ivy and Tim came running towards them, their arms filled with books. Tim disposed off his books in Ivys arms, almost making her fall in the process, and drew his guns with a big grin.

The four of them fought themselves back to the Aurora, well three, Ivy just tried to keep her books intact until they were off planet. In they end they made it. Marius was standing at the entrance of the Aurora and covered them as they boarded.

When the door was shut behind him Marius asked: “How the fuck do you always manage that?”

Breathlessly Jonny grinned: “Ashes is a hero.”

“What?” Marius asked, just more confused with the answer.

Tim added: “They think they’re a hero, it’s amazing. There was a statue of them.”

“What!” Marius repeated, “How?”

Ivy opened a book and showed them a page, she had picked up some extra books about Ashes in the store they had robbed, she said: “Apparently the burning of the gangs, which Ashes did, helped the planet better themselves and they were given the status of hero that has been warped throughout time.”

“Let me see.” Ashes said, snatching the book out of Ivys hands.

They scanned the page and scoffed, before reading out loud: “Ashes O’Reilly joined the Lucky Sevens against their will. They served under Smooth Mickey until the Aces started to move up on the turf of the Lucky Sevens, finally having an excuse to confront their capturer they fought against both gangs at the same time, until they had burned all the rotten parts of Malone, leaving the rest to prosper. Historians still debate if they were just such a skilled fighter or immortal. Some even believe they are still out there watching over Malone.”

Jonny and Tim fell back in peels of laughter at the idea of Ashes burning down stuff out of obligation and needing to be forced to join a gang, like they hadn’t thought it would be just fun. Marius also joined the them, now understanding what that all was about.

After a while of catching their breath and falling back into giggled every time they’d made eye contact or looked at Ashes, Marius asked: “Was there really a statue?”

“Yeah and it wasn’t even accurate.” Ashes moped, only making them laugh again. They frowned at them and said: “Yeah, whatever laugh it up. It’s not that funny.”

“You don’t get it, since it’s about you.” Tim said.

“Exactly!” Jonny nodded, “That’s like finding out Earth has made Tim a hero for blowing up the moon.”

That idea made Ashes chuckle and they could see the appeal, something lit up behind their eyes and they said: “We should go to earth, see if Tim’s in the books!”

[fericita-s]

The Bloom Is On The Rye

Henry was a man and none of his gifts were trifles, starting with the firm arm around her waist saving her from certain death and the blanket around her shoulders to keep out the cold now.  The ring on her finger that he had probably been saving for a woman he loved and admired rather than one he had to take care of like a tiresome beast of burden, even though he was too nice to say so.

An 8K-ish Mercy Street Emmry story (with a dash of Phoster) I’ll be posting in 6 parts, starting today.  Also on AO3.

@jomiddlemarch​  wrote In Having New Eyes for Mercy Street Advent, Oregon Trail crossover day.  When I freaked out about how much I loved it she encouraged me to write more, even sending me ideas and brainstorming about various directions the story could take.  So here it is! Thanks for letting me play!

@the-spaztic-fantastic​ continues to make everything I write better, from brainstorming to beta-ing to being an enthusiastic reader.  Thank you.

At night Henry read aloud from the Book of Psalms.  Their first evening together he had cleared his throat awkwardly and asked if she would like to hear.  Emma knew it was his way of telling her he didn’t expect a wedding night so she said yes, an easier yes than any of the others she had given that day.   Henry’s voice was measured, like he was considering every word as he spoke it, and soothing, like he wanted the words to comfort her in the way he would not with his touch.

The words reached her, more than they ever had inside the four walls of a church or though the short verses she embroidered on pillows.  Now she thought David’s words could be her own. Give ear to my words, oh Lord, and consider my groaning.  Let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them. Sometimes the psalms were angry and sometimes joyous and sometimes despairing, but always wanting to find hope.  

And Emma was all of those things too. The expanse of land was breathtaking in its beauty and she could hardly deny that the Creator God who made it was powerful. 

But the land was also terrifying and unfair, and she sometimes wondered if God was too.

***

“Thank you,” she said as Henry put a blanket around her shoulders.  He didn’t say anything in return but he did sit next to her, their sides touching just barely, their feet hanging over the side of the wagon.  The campfire was several feet away and the light from the stars and moon was bright enough that she could probably see his face if she dared turn and look.

“At home we had servants.”

“Oh,” said Henry, moving slightly so that their sides were no longer pressed together at all, and Emma mourned the loss.  It had felt warm, nice even to be touched, light though it had been.  There had been so little of it since her family died. “We’ll probably have to keep our own house, even after this trek is over. Though perhaps in a few years we could hire someone to help.”

“I only meant - that’s why I don’t know what to do.  But I’ll learn.”

“I should have told you more, before we married. And I don’t expect you to do all that.  I managed fine as a bachelor. I can do for us both.”

“Then what would I contribute?” she asked, now looking at him and smiling so he would know she wasn’t aggrieved.  It was a new world to her but she’d seen enough to know that everyone had to have a use.  Nothing could exist for only beauty and perhaps it was a mercy Alice hadn’t realized that yet before her end came. 

Perhaps it would have made Jimmy into a man who did more than ruin his family.  

“I’m sure you have many talents,” Henry said and Emma was grateful he spoke.  Not just for the confidence or kindness it showed, but for pulling her from the darker thoughts that had started to intrude.

“I can plan a party.  Embroider a handkerchief. Paint a landscape.” 

“Could you sew a dress? I can probably get some calico or muslin when we go through Fort Kearney. I know you’ve only the one dress since - “ he paused and took her hand, hesitantly covering it with both of hers. She smiled at him, so he would know it was welcome, and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders with her other hand, shivering a little. 

“I can manage that.  And I can pay for it, too. My trunk with our sewing notions; I still have it. Mother hid some brooches among the buttons and I’m wearing the pearl necklace. We could sell them.  There’s a leontine watch chain too, but we had to sell the watch.”  Emma felt the drop pearl pendant warm against her chest and thought of the brooches carefully wrapped in bits of fabric.  The cabochon garnet in its decorative frame and the less valuable hand painted one, enamel and round, the size of a coat button. Her mother had painted it herself and kept it stowed away from the grit of their dusty travel, but Emma remembered seeing her sit with it that first night on the trail, turning it over in her hand and then bringing it to her cheek like a kiss. 

“No,” he said, and his fingers moved to his mother’s ring, loose on her finger. He ran his thumb over it and Emma shivered again.  “You keep that. You should keep something of your family. To give to your own children someday.”

Her hand fell gently into her lap as he drew his hands back and Emma wondered if he, like her, was suddenly thinking about what it would mean for her to have children someday.  Was he regretting this arrangement? This marriage where he barely touched her?  

“Your mother’s ring - was there someone you planned to give it to?”

“No. I brought a few of her things, without much of a plan for their use.  Small things to remember her by.  And you, was there someone for you?” 

“I thought so, before we left.  But when our family fortunes turned, he did too. I’m not longing for him.”  She could feel him looking at her and it made her feel warm. Like she had admitted too much.

“Good.  I mean, I wouldn’t want you to have more grief to bear than you already have.” 

Neither spoke as Silas Bullen began playing his fiddle from across the circle of wagons, a jaunty version of “Yankee Doodle” that Mrs. Brannan’s voice soon joined.  Emma could picture her parents listening to it - her father inviting her mother to dance, her mother complaining that a song with a Virginian like Washington in the lyrics would use the word ‘Yankee,’ but smiling and taking his hand anyway.

“I’m not crying about you. About being married to you. When I cry.  I just miss them, that’s all,” Emma said, wishing she was still wearing her bonnet so Henry couldn’t see the tears springing to her eyes.  

“I know,” he said. “I understand.” And she believed that he did, passing her handkerchiefs all day when her tears fell and not mentioning the cause. This time, after pressing a handkerchief into her fist, he also put his arm around her, running his hand up and down her arm, making shushing noises like she had heard him use with the oxen when he unyoked them for the night. She could feel his heart beating against her back as he pulled her tighter against his chest.

It was nice talking this way.  Like he was a friend and could maybe be something more soon. Like they could get through this together. Emma knew how to tease and cajole and even dare boys into showing their affection.  She had received trifles such as a paint set or a bouquet of flowers someone’s servant had grown in a hothouse.  

But Henry was a man and none of his gifts were trifles, starting with the firm arm around her waist saving her from certain death and the blanket around her shoulders to keep out the cold now.  The ring on her finger that he had probably been saving for a woman he loved and admired rather than one he had to take care of like a tiresome beast of burden, even though he was too nice to say so.

Author’s Note:  I did research but only included information that would help Henry and Emma in their romantic pursuit of each other, occasionally eschewing actual facts and realities to make the story more compelling.  For example, most travelers on the trail (called emigrants or overlanders) used tents or slept in the open by the campfire since their wagons were too loaded with supplies.  But I needed Henry and Emma to have some privacy or else he would never ever make a move and no one wants that story.  Henry reads here from Psalm 5, a psalm of David.  Emma’s jewelry was of the type popular at the time; the leontine style was named after a famous actress and was made of a woven golden ribbon with a tassel on one end and a watch hook on the other.

[angelofbenignmalevolence]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Gordon Tracy Additional Tags: Near Drowning, Angst, Near Death Experiences Summary:

There are those that say that drowning is peaceful…Gordon Tracy respectfully disagrees. Gordon Tracy knows that drowning can be the most painful experience without ever being dealt a physical injury…

Thanks to @misssquidtracy and @agentfreelancer1 for laying eyes on this and giving me the confidence to post it!

----------

The abrupt turnover from the weightlessness of dreams into the full force of consciousness is a rough transition at the best of times. It is made even more jarring when a person wakes in an unfamiliar setting. It is made almost unbearable upon the realization that every breath taken in burns to the core.

It took Gordon Tracy much longer than he would like to admit to himself to piece together his situation. His vision took a moment to clear. He pulled the blanket down from around his face, using it as a way to clear the sleep from his eyes. He looked around. The room was a sterile white with curtained partitions. There was no doubt in his mind that he was in a hospital.

He tried to sit up and immediately he was struck with the notion that it wasn’t necessarily his brightest idea. The muscles in his torso screamed protest in the form of a searing ache that spread through his chest. He gasped in a breath at the sudden pain, only for that to bring its own punishment. Fire burned through his body and he dropped leadenly back onto the pillows.

Is this the end? Gordon thought to himself. The last time he had known a sensation as bad as this had been in the hydrofoil crash. He had thought that he was dying then as well. He took small sips of air as his body began to calm, the pain subsiding into a duller, more manageable ache. It gave Gordon plenty of time to reflect back on the events that led up to this. Everything was fuzzy in his mind.

He remembered a sinking ship…in the Atlantic? The North Sea? He remembered that it was cold and…the storm. Yes…there had been a storm. A big one. With violent waves. Thunderbird 4 had had trouble stabilizing in the rough seas as Gordon had worked to rescue those in the water and Virgil had worked to rescue those still on board the sinking vessel. But no matter how hard Gordon tried he couldn’t remember anything else. Everything was a blur.

He heard the echo of heels on linoleum, and for a moment Gordon realized how preternaturally quiet this wing of the hospital was. In every hospital he had ever been in, there had been the hum of nurses and the whirring and beeping of machinery, but here, there was no hum of ambient noise, just the steady footfalls of someone approaching his room.

He tried once more to sit up at the approach, slower this time. He didn’t know why he was here, but a bright smile and a bit of playful flirting couldn’t hurt his chances of getting out of this bed early on good behavior. He forced himself to lean back naturally against the back of the hospital bed.

Sensible black kitten heels were the first thing Gordon saw peeking under the curtain. Gordon frowned slightly. Neither the shoes nor what he could see of the legs that were covered only in pantyhose suggested that he was about to receive a visit from a nurse. Those were the trademarks of a lawyer or a reporter…unless…could it be?

Had Lady Penelope come to visit him in the hospital? The thought simultaneously thrilled and horrified him. He loved the thought that she worried enough to come visit him, but a part of him cringed at the thought of her seeing him like this. He wondered if he could get away with pretending to be asleep.

The curtain began to slide open. Gordon caught the flash of a sleeve in a very pale purple color. Lilac his brain supplied, though he was more preoccupied with the fact that the sleeve, its color and texture and the shine of its buttons, was somehow both altogether foreign and yet intimately familiar to him. His mind hazily cast about for memories just out of reach even as the curtain continued to open.

Lilacs…little purple flowers…a suit in a matching color…brown hair…a halo of white…white and wood…a coffin?

Gordon’s stomach dropped. Any breath inside left him in a whoosh and, for a brief moment it was as if the whole world dropped away. His eyes locked with the eyes of the woman on the other side. The corners of her mouth turned upward into a pitying smile. Gordon’s mouth ran dry and his throat suddenly felt too closed up to function. There were several moments of stunned silence before Gordon was able to make his throat work.

“Mom?” The voice that escaped him was not the voice of the charming and daring International Rescue operative he had grown into, but the soft uncertain voice of a child.

“Hello, Gordon,” she said, moving to Gordon’s bedside. She sat down and Gordon exhaled shakily. He felt her weight on the bed, could feel the warmth rolling off of her even through the thick hospital blankets.

“Mom…I…I don’t…understand,” Gordon said. His heart ached and his mind whirred too quickly to get a sentence out in its entirety. She shook her head sadly.

“You’ve grown so much…” She reached forward to push a few stray locks of sandy hair from Gordon’s face. The brush of very real and very warm fingertips against his temples had a sob ripping from Gordon’s throat. Lucille drew Gordon into her arms and held him, just as she had done all those years ago when she had still been able to.

Gordon felt the rush of emotions pouring forth as he pulled his mother against him with an iron strength. Flashes of images played across his vision, blurred through tears that fell freely as he buried his face in her neck. Memories began to overwhelm his senses. Memories of peering into tidal pools at the beach, of learning to swim in the kiddy pools, of kisses on scraped knees and of falling asleep in his mother’s lap as she read to him before bed. Memories of the excitement before the fateful trip. Memories of a broken Virgil, his young mind falling easy prey to the survivor’s guilt that haunted him into his adulthood.

Memories of lowering his mother into the ground. Of the sky weeping as she was lowered into the grave. Of a family dynamic shifted by her premature departure from the earth.

Gordon wept as he once again was able to hold his mother in his arms. She made soft, soothing shushing noises, rocking him gently as she had done when he was young. He looked up at her, taking in every feature. She was just as he remembered her. The light dusting of freckles across her cheeks. Her warm eyes that used to dance as she laughed. There were so many things he wanted to ask her, so many words that raced to his lips.

“Am I dead?” It wasn’t the question he had expected to come out first. Lucille shook her head.

“You aren’t dead. Not yet, my little guppy,” she said, her hands continuing their soothing circuit from his hair to his shoulders and back.

“How are you here?” Gordon asked. Lucille considered her son for a moment. When she had last seen him, he had been a child. But Gordon was no longer a child. He had grown in strength. As much as she wanted to protect him from the painful knowledge he sought, she knew that it was no longer an option. Gordon was old enough to know the truth.

“You are in the in between,” she said. Gordon’s soft brown eyes looked back at her uncomprehendingly.

“The…in between?” he repeated. Lucille nodded and looked out to the hall, as if hearing something that Gordon couldn’t, “What happened, mom? Where are the others? Where’s Virgil?” Lucille’s eyes closed in pain.

“You nearly drowned,” she said. Gordon’s heart skipped several beats painfully.

“D…rowned?” Lucille took his hand and looked him in the eyes.

“When you and Virgil were in the North Sea…there was a wave…a violent one. It sent the ship listing. It nearly capsized. You were hit by falling debris and the ship sent you under as it thrashed in the surf…” she explained gently. Gordon’s second hand slowly let go of his mother as he brought it to his chest. The ache…the burn…it all made sense. There was a terrible, ugly familiarity to the experience. Gordon cast about for another question, anything to stay the onslaught of the memories from his hydrofoil incident.

“Were you there?” he asked. She shook her head.

“No, sweetheart. I wasn’t there.”

“Then how…”

“I heard Virgil telling the nurses what had happened,” she said, “He’s rather upset with them at the moment.” Gordon frowned.

“How come I can’t hear him?” If this was all happening around him, surely he would know. Lucille gave him the same pitying look she had given him before.

“You’re in the in between, guppy. You—“

“What does that mean?!” Gordon asked, a flash of his younger self rearing its head. She shook her head and pushed his hair back once more. She seemed to be working herself up to bearing some very unpleasant news.

“It means you are between life and death, my little guppy,” she said. “That you can see and hear me, means you are very close to death.” Gordon’s shoulders dropped, and he lowered his eyes as he processed the simple, yet completely devastating statement. So this was the end? He supposed he’d rather face it with his mother than on his own. Lucille leaned in to tilt his chin up again. “You aren’t dead yet, Gordon. You still have a choice.”

“I…do?” Lucille nodded to him.

“I don’t promise an easy or smooth recovery, but you can turn back now. You can still fight this, guppy,” she said. Gordon considered that a moment before locking his eyes with his mother again.

“But…what about you?” he asked, his voice small, “Will you be alone?” Lucille shook her head.

“Please don’t stay for me,” she said. “You deserve a long and happy life, Gordon. Don’t stay because you fear I will be alone. I will see you again one day.” Gordon’s eyes searched her face. If the pain in his chest was anything to go by, his recovery would be a long and terrible one. He didn’t relish the idea of another stint in the hospital. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to forget about everything he had left to live for. His brothers…Grandma…Dad…Brains…Kayo…he couldn’t just let them down like this. He swallowed as he made up his mind.

“I’m so sorry, mom,” he said, pulling her into his arms once more, holding her like it was the last time. “I…I have to go. I have to fight.” Lucille smiled sadly and pulled him tightly against her as well.

“It’s ok, Gordon,” she said. “It will all be ok.” She slowly broke their contact and started to get up. Gordon couldn’t keep the small noise of protest completely down. Lucille walked over to the curtain surrounding his bed. She took it in her hand and took one more long look at Gordon, blowing him a kiss.

“Get some rest, Guppy. Your brothers will be happy to see you when you wake up.” Gordon watched her until she had curled the curtains all the way around and he didn’t dare close his eyes until her footsteps had vanished and he knew he was well and truly alone. Gordon dropped leadenly back on the pillow, thinking to himself that it was always hard to fall asleep with tears in his eyes.

~@~

Scott started awake as he heard a change in the rhythm of the machines measuring his brother’s vitals. He quickly looked around at all the monitors that were currently hooked up to his brother. Everything seemed to be stable….even elevating. That, at least, was promising. They’d almost lost him twice in the time they had been here and Scott wasn’t sure his heart could take a third decline.

He sat back in his seat and stretched his stiff shoulders. There was a reason they all hated hospitals. He almost missed the slight movement of Gordon’s fingers. He might have, if he had stretched a moment longer. Instead, he leaned in, putting his hand on the bed near Gordon’s.

“That’s it, Squid….easy does it…” Scott murmured soothingly. Gordon’s fingers again stretched out for contact, and Scott obliged, touching just fingertips at first. While Gordon wasn’t able to form words in his state, Scott could see his brother relax at the contact. Scott swallowed and pulled Gordon’s hand into his own.

“I’ve got you, Gordon. I’ve got you.”