#saying it outright: posting this with a fragile heart

[manytoonepoet13]

Red Bouquet ep. 2 = Your Melody???

I THINK I GOT IT RIGHT.

So.. if you recall from my theory about Your Melody, me and my friend theorized how this song was about Merold wanting to reconcile with Hallritt after.. let's say.. a big fight..?

Quite from my post: "Take it this way, we got into a big fight, I got amnesia, I no longer recognize you and best friend J, but as I got reintroduced to more memories (Hallritt telling Merold), I start to remember more. And because I start to remember more, it makes me cherish the memories we once had, so it pushes me to want to reconcile. Simply because I want to experience more of those memories." — @c h a m a l a m.

Other than that.. have you noticed the similarities between some of the lyrics in Your Melody and Merold's line in ep. 2?

Your Melody: "The fairytale of the day you told me about... The pleasantly soft and sweet whispers. Just listen to them carefully, don't get flustered now."

Merold, ep.2: "This Red Bouquet... Sounds like a fairytale for kids."

To be fair, back then I've theorized how this was about Hallritt telling Merold about the day when everything went wrong, but the connection between these lines are still there.

Your Melody: "It's okay to deceive with an outright lie... Because within it lingers a quiet love."

Merold, ep. 2: Well, of course I'd love to but... That whole "greatest knight" thing is a lie." — "But spreading rumours like that makes people think twice about crossing My Melody's kingdom or making an enemy of me, right?"

Back then, I wrote how this was Merold talking about this seemingly peaceful life and how it's probably better to stay within this illusion, for the sake of everyone's safety, which, until now, still stands firm because that is, indeed, his intentions.

Your Melody: "If I were to stain your smile, then I would do away with this heart of mine." or "The MELODY of your voice that I want to remain beside, what if... If you want to cloud over the future, if it is sadness that you want to echo... then please let me play it from here."

Romarriche, ep. 2: "A "lie"... You knew phrasing it like that would invite disdain, and yet you said it anyway."

This part right here is a bit of a stretch, back then I had just compile the entire chorus and theorized how it was Merold finally remembering and opening up to Hallritt and reconcile. Because truth be told, I don't think Merold's doing all of this to purposefully hurt Hallritt or the people around him, I think the opposite, in fact. Because...

Your Melody: "Even with this fragile heart, above all else, you are my dearest, (Tell me, tell me why.) These overflowing feelings are a MELODY for you (Tell me, tell me why.)."

This is him wanting to protect the people he cares, going each and every lengths just to ensure their safety. It might not be the kindest, nor is it the best in the long run, as far as this story's concerned. But it is the most tangible way as of now given the circumstances he's faced with.

To wrap it all up, I'd say 1.) Me and my best friend's theory did indeed end up being correct, and 2.) Better prepare for more Merold and Hallritt angst.

[shizuchansmilk]

heyyyyyy i’ve seen your heiwajima parents art, and i really love your designs! <3 i wanted to ask, do you perhaps have any headcanons that you might like to share? o.o the novels BARELY mention them at all :( i’m scraping for content

DO I!? OH HONEY... DO I 💔💔💔

here's a quick doodle of them as well as a thank u for this ask bc uGH i adore them too (they are barely mentioned and basically everything i like about them i came up with in my own silly little head). this is a pretty long post so do continue reading under the cut if you'd like! ^^

gosh idk where to even begin okok. unironically girlboss and malewife. in my mind kichirou is kinda goofy, the more laid-back parent while namiko's the stricter one despite generally being a pretty quiet person in general.

shizuo definitely gets his temper from namiko i think, and while arguments wouldn't at all be frequent it'd basically be up to kichirou or kasuka to calm them both down whenever they happened ToT

i think namiko has an artistic sort of hobby like painting. don't ask me for any reasonings i just feel like she does, and this passtime eventually rubbed off on kasuka a little since i recall he likes painting too? she'd specifically paint landscapes, her favourites being beaches and the sea. because of this though she tends to spend a lot of her free time a little secluded. sometimes, especially as children, she'd let kasuka and shizuo watch her paint and let them try out their own stuff too, but since shizuo's immense strength became apparent he sort of began to feel like he wasn't as welcome as he once was in a studio full of her fragile hard work so he harbours a sort of reluctance doing any of that anymore.

speaking of, namiko would worry about shizuo. a lot. maybe TOO much in fact. she'd frequently scold him for getting into fights and things like that, and because she's his mother i don't imagine he'd really retaliate. he'd be real pissed off and slam his bedroom door (off it's hinges😭) in a huff, sure, but there's no way in HELL he's pulling a stunt like almost throwing an entire fridge at *her*. she'd be the one dragging him to the neighbours houses and making him apologise for kicking the entire bonnet of their car in or meeting with the head of school because shizuo threw a chair into the wall. idk i kinda get the impression that their relationship is a liiittle strained because their personalities kinda clash but they love each other really. whenever something's bothering shizuo i feel like namiko picks up on it pretty quickly and does little things like make him his favourite dinner or grab a cake from the store on her commute to cheer him up.

kichirou on the other hand is big on sports i think, and listen he DEFINITELY taught his boys how to play baseball. only narita can tell me otherwise like until it's outright disproven this'll always be canon to me. i feel like he's the golden retriever to namiko's black cat in the sense he's a lot more outgoing and talkative and relaxed than her, albeit maybe a little more oblivious. i imagine he was really impressed and boastful about how strong, like a real athlete, his eldest was until the property damage and hospital bills were on the rise.

i feel like kichirou would be pretty attentive to kasuka. like oh he's kinda quiet is he making any friends at school? that kind of thing. where namiko stresses over dealing with shizuo i think kichirou would kind of overthink anything going on with kasuka.

despite namiko being the more temperamental of the two i think kichirou still gets really defensive whenever he catches wind of people talking smack about his family. like you can make fun of him all you want but the moment you get a bad word in about his boys or god FORBID his wife i feel like it's on sight. i don't think he'd go as far as getting into a fight about it but the sudden drop in light-hearted attitude to a very cold and dead serious "haha the hell did you just say?" would be enough to shut most people up. perhaps kasuka gets his acting skills from him, as in being able to switch up at the drop of a hat. otherwise i feel like kichirou's really friendly, though again maybe a little oblivious, probably has met shinra's dad before and thought he was a cool guy but maybe just a tad strange (a sizeable understatement).

in essence, think like phil and claire from modern family or mr and mrs fox from fantastic mr fox. that's basically the dynamic of them i have in my head =w= i might have more HCs but this is all that's coming to me rn. again, thanks so much for the ask!!!! ToT💕

[aesterea]

What is aec?

hi! thank you so much for asking!!

AEC is short for Arcane Elements Cycle, which is a series of books i'm writing. AEC follows the twisted love story of a wicked young woman named Asteria and an evil Sorcerer as they desolate each other and everything around them in their competition to take over the world.

i'm taking this as an opportunity to offer a taste of my writing. here are some quick snippets from the drafts!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was not that Asteria loved the darkness. It had always seemed that the darkness loved Asteria.

[...] Asteria could not deny the odd comfort of being wrapped up in the still universe, like a baby swaddled in blankets.

[...] Asteria sat and dreamed until she felt so far away from herself she thought she might never return, a silent ghost silhouetted against the night.

[...] Asteria’s reputation was, simply put, alarming. Rumors had haunted her as long as she could remember, whispers that she was a demon’s child, she was a tragic soul, she would end badly.

[...] No master of any craft would take her. She was not allowed in the market for fear her presence would rot the fruit. She was not allowed near the farms for fear she’d corrupt the cows.

[...] Her [hair] hung loose, a curtain of dark down to her hips.

[...] She thought, if she looked hard enough, she might see her fate waiting with open arms and a wicked grin.

[...] What did [the Sorcerer] do? Where was she to begin? A hundred stories flashed through her mind. Fire-haired maidens and goblets of blood, dragon fire and eternal mazes, poisonous gardens and doorways to hell.

[...] Here she was in the grasp of a monster— a killer, a captor, a crazed demon-crafter— and he was leading her straight to salvation.

[...] A mountain range had appeared, bright and white and stretching. These were nothing like the hills [where she grew up], which were like spoonfuls of sugar dumped carelessly into a bowl, gently sloped and rolling. No, these were the image of majesty.

[...] If she’d wanted to meet a madman in the earliest hours of the day before dawn on the coldest night of the year, Asteria would have brought a coat.

[...] He must have put [a certain thing] out there just to torture her. He must have seen the flicker of pain on her face. He must have been satisfied, because he spoke.

“Darling, you don't look too well.”

She could have laughed at his false concern. She did not. Instead, she set a cold gaze upon him that she did not feel in her heart, and waited. Waited. Waited.

[...]  She lost her breath and had to catch it again. His laugh was a pure, dark ripple. It hurt to hear him laugh again.

[...] There was no anger in his voice. [Only the deepest] sorrow. “We were so close. Do you remember?”

[...] “So what have you come to me for? What more could I do for you? [Conquer] you another empire? Lay down my life? Again?”

[...] This [beautiful madman] who had built her up and made her a force to be reckoned with. He had made her strong and she had [ruined him] in return. Now she had come to give him a final blow.

Asteria guarded her heart and began her destruction of the one she loved most.

[...] "I am the girl who loved the monster, and I will not be afraid."

[marvelandimagine]

I think some people mad about the arm is not necessarily about the fact that Ayo disabling the arm itself, it's more of the fact that it was not necessary and the fact that Bucky had no idea they can do that. If I were to be honest, I think it was not that necessary because Ayo is well capable of taking him down without having to disarm him and she is definitely not threatened by him. I think what some people find upsetting about that scene is the fact that it kinda comes off as Ayo putting Bucky in a position where it would make him feel like he doesn't have full control of his own body after all. The Wakandans, especially Ayo, T'Challa and Shuri had every right to feel betrayed and upset but the point is they should have told Bucky about how the arm can easily be disabled like that, they didn't know Bucky was going to set Zemo free when they gave him the arm and regardless of the things they have done for him and if they were ones who gave him the arm, they should have at least told him about it, because it's connected to him, it's a part of HIS body. It doesn't matter if it was necessary to disarm him or not, the point is they should have told him about it because apart from the fact that it's his body and that it was a bit insensitive given his history, it's also a point of vulnerability, and the fact that she did it in front of Walker (and possibly Zemo) --- people who can easily turn on Bucky, could easily that to their advantage and attempt to disable it themselves. Just my thoughts on it.

Thank you for sharing your perspective, anon!

I’m going to use this long-ass reply to address this stuff with Ayo and also voice some thoughts I’ve had over the past few weeks seeing people paint Bucky into being this complete soft and harmless human that needs 25-7 protection which I don’t jive with — and this is me, a complete Bucky stan.

Many moons ago, I saw a post that compared 1940s Bucky moving with stealth and a loaded gun on the train to the Winter Soldier doing the same thing, essentially discussing the similarities and debating how much of non-brainwashed Bucky was in the Soldier. And I think the fandom forgets or chooses to neglect the following when painting him as this fragile, peace-loving guy:

Bucky was an incredibly skilled sniper in the United States Army. His job is to eliminate threats in the most efficient way possible, and he’s good at it. HYDRA gets their hands on him and + the serum, this gets magnified. It wasn’t like HYDRA turned him into someone with the ability and mental capacity to kill — that was already there. The brainwashing and torture just carved out the rest of him to leave those honed skills and an amplified ruthlessness with no moral issues, no sense of self to contend with. That ruthlessness is part of Bucky, whether people like it or not.

When Bucky is outside of HYDRA for the first time and hiding in Civil War and gets attacked, he’s so brutal in his actions that Steve Rogers, the man who literally was ready to die to save Bucky and free him when no one else believed in the good in him, intervenes because “Buck, you’re going to kill someone.” Bucky responds that he’s not going to kill anyone, but the fact remains: with or without HYDRA control, Bucky has a strong capacity for violence that hovers on brutality — again, what’s the most efficient way to eliminate or neutralize a threat? Like, I don’t want to kill you, but I’ll knock your ass out with cinder blocks to the chest.

Bucky has a good heart, he’s loyal, he’s smart, he’s caring, he’s the longest-standing POW in history and was turned into a slave for decades, put through unimaginable trauma and torture and horror with no escape. Bucky is also a strong and incredibly skilled super soldier who has a bionic arm, is a trained sniper, is unnervingly precise with knives, and self-describes himself as “semi-stable.” Zemo notes in the bar that “it didn’t take Bucky long to get back into form,” and he’s right because the ruthlessness and skill of the Winter Soldier is a part of him and always has been. We see it when he has his hand around Zemo’s neck and tells him he will kill him, when he rips the glass from his hand and throws it across the room.

And I’m sure the Wakandans know all this about Bucky, this light and his ability for hard-to-stop violence, whether from talking to Steve and Bucky or doing their own homework. And they still choose to help him out of the goodness of their hearts because he’s been put through hell and they believe they have the capacity to help him and it’s the right thing to do — they’re betting more on those positive attributes. And they put a failsafe on his arm, a literal weapon, and chose not to tell him. You know why I think that shows how much they did care about him? Because they could’ve blatantly come out and said “Hey, we don’t trust you,” and hurt him outright, but they didn’t because they’re betting on the light in Bucky to outweigh the dark or any future manipulation. That it’s a worst-case scenario function they hope to never have to use — so they’re prepared if shit hits the fan, and if it doesn’t, Bucky doesn’t have to be hurt feeling like he can’t be trusted. I see no issues here, they’re just being cautious.

Now coming to Ayo, my QUEEN Ayo. From that beautiful, beautiful opening scene, we get to see her support, her reassurance, her belief that Bucky will be able to work through this, even when he doesn’t believe it himself. She watches him fight and struggle and cry, and you can feel the hope in her and how moved she is when she gets to tell him it worked, he did it — he’s free. And she says it not once, but twice. And you can hear not just the comfort, but the PRIDE and warmth in her voice directed to him, who I’m sure she’s watched throughout the whole deprogramming process and gotten to know and is happy to see him work through the pain and come out on the other side.

And then she sees that same individual make a decision in freeing Zemo that she perceives as a “fuck you” not just to her country, but to her, someone who was charged with protecting her king. She could’ve just disarmed Bucky the second they met up, but she doesn’t. She takes the time to explain her side and her feelings, her guilt and her shame, and basically implies that she feels betrayed by Bucky because Wakanda helped him and now he’s doing something that’s hurting her country. And still, she doesn’t attack or just go get Zemo. She gives Bucky the benefit of the doubt and a whole 8-hour American workday to do what he has to do because again, she believes in the best of him. And then that time limit runs up, and he chooses to get in her way.

And that’s the final straw. She’s angry, she’s guilty, she’s frustrated, and she feels betrayed hurt by someone I think she did respect and care about, someone whom she worked with and helped and supported when he was his most vulnerable. Did she “need” to disarm the arm to fight Bucky? Probably not. But is she doing it in the heat of battle and adrenaline and a whole bucket ton of emotions, including what she sees as the White Wolf blatantly disrespecting her country and her as a person and even friend and she just says fuck it, I’m done? You hurt us and me, and I’m going to hurt you back? Oh yeah. And Bucky looks shocked, not because he’s a poor fragile baby and “oh no, my arm, how could you?? my TrAumA”, but in the dual realization of “oh shit, how’d you do that?!” and “oh shit, I think I crossed a line here.” And also, I don’t think a single person in that room would be able to recreate the disabling sequence other than Ayo — it’s way too targeted and specific for someone like Walker to pick it up in the whole three seconds it took.

People need to stop reducing characters to these black and white extremes of soft and hard, of good and bad. Doing so completely devalues and ignores the REALITY of the complexity of being human, and Bucky and Ayo are both great examples of that played by stellar actors who portray that range and depth extremely well. End of the day, my thought is that the failsafe in the arm was justified and people need to stop coming for Ayo based on this ridiculous narrative that Bucky is too traumatized and sensitive and too much of a fave to ever be challenged or he’ll explode into dust. Boy deserves a life of freedom and healing and mental health support, but he’s also still a formidable opponent with the capacity for violence and skillset to kill. People are more than one thing.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk!!

[dreamkidddream]

I’d like to request hc’s of the Brothers and Diavolo reacting to an MC that’s so cute, she could pass off as a doll. If she stands perfectly still, she could pass off as a full sized doll until she moves again. She has adorable doe eyes, wears cute clothes (Lolita fashion or just has an anime girl style), and even makes cute desserts. If the usual MC was weak and frail to them already, Doll!MC seems so dainty, precious, and fragile; these guys would ban paper if she ever got a paper cut.

Oooooo this is really interesting! I can just imagine Doll!MC just making everyone so scared every time she moves because they could probably hurt themselves just bumping into a wall because they look so fragile lol. These were short, so hope you enjoy!

Update: here’s part 2 with the other Undateables!

The Brothers and Diavolo Reacting to Doll!MC

Lucifer

...maybe he made a mistake in picking you for the exchange program after all

You just look so delicate, and just so pure. 

You have definitely made cute little snacks and brought it to him while he locked himself in the office with paperwork

He lowkey highkey likes it no matter how he brushes it off with the usual thanks. Keep doing it, MC, he really appreciates it

When you get in trouble and he gives you the usual lectures, he can’t look into your eyes for long

Geez, he already can’t stay mad at you for long but now he can just feel his resolve cracking

If you get hurt oh Diavolo prepare for helicopter parent Lucifer

As soon as you accidently cut yourself in the kitchen (it would be the tiniest cut, barely noticeable),  you’re no longer allowed in the kitchen unsupervised and can’t handle anything with a sharp end (whether its a butter knife or kid proof scissors that would be safe for Luke to use unsupervised)

“Let me do it for you, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Lucifer, thank you but I’ll be okay. It’s just a frosting spatula it’s not sharp-”

Will punish his brothers 10x worse and demons 100x more if he finds out you got hurt (doesn’t matter what the injury is, could be so much as a paper cut there will be hell to pay)

Constantly checks on you when he can’t see you in person

Handles you so lightly that you barely feel his touch

Move over Belphie, you’re the baby of the house now 

Mammon

Protective x100000

Is still tsudere around you, but doesn’t insult you as much

Who are you kidding as soon as he looks into your cute doe eyes, he forgets what he’s saying 

Complains about having to do stuff for you but doesn’t mind at all really. He loves it because it feels like you’re depending on him, and that makes him feel worth something.

“C’mon human, let the Great Mammon carry your books! You’re gonna hurt yourself and I don’t feel like hearing Lucifer’s mouth today!”

It was just your planner and a small recipe book that Luke gave you, and it weighed less than 10 pounds but okay. You don’t complain either when you see that he genuinely wants to help and do these things

Basically your loud guard dog and secret service agent rolled into one

He’s gotten into trouble more than once for “protecting you”. A student barely bumped your shoulder and Mammon already tackled him. Lucifer was not pleased (but he secretly understood)

He can’t help it that you’re weak and surrounded by hungry demons! It’s a pain to go through this much effort to just protect you, since you look so helpless

MC he’s just worried that you easily break if a demon so much as breathes on you but he likes that he can protect you because he knows that he can keep you safe. You’re just too cute and sweet okay??

Also stand in his room after watching a horror movie to freak him out and he’ll be sounding like Mariah Carey lmao

Leviathan

RURI-CHAN IS THAT YOU??!

Is for sure having an otaku/weaboo freakout moment

You blend in with figurines so well, every time you come into his room he asks you to stand next to them so he can feel that his collection is complete 

He does it sometimes when he streams so people can think he has a rare limited-edition life sized doll that they can’t get. Makes him feel superior 

DRESSING YOU UP IN COSPLAY 100%

You’re like an anime character but in real life and he does not know how to handle it 

Can’t stare into your eyes, it makes them too flustered because he’s used to seeing it in his otome games and not from an actual person that he likes

Who needs maid cafes when he has you? You even dress and make anime themed desserts (once he built up the courage to ask you to make it for him)

Has to calm his beating heart every time he talks to you, you’re too precious for him MC! 

Your like his very own idol, minus the singing and dancing. However, if you can sing and dance....

Levi.exe has stopped working 

Satan

Thought you were a real doll until you introduced yourself

He really thought that someone brought you to life Pinocchio style

You looked like a princess from the many stories that he read, and he was smitten

Treated you so graceful and elegant like until he had his rage moments, which he told you to stay far, far, far away from him until he calmed down completely

Secretly placed a hex on you to where if someone tried to attack you or touch you with harmful intentions, they would be somehow be subjected to looking at their worst fear

You were wondering why that random stranger was just staring wide at you with extensive terror, but then you saw Satan grinning, so you left it alone. You thought it was just some weird demon thing

Loved when you made him cat-themed desserts

If you wore cat ears while doing it, he will turn extremely red

If you meow for him, he won’t know how to handle himself 

Asmodeus

You are just the cutest thing he has ever laid his eyes on!!

Besides from himself of course, don’t get it twisted he’s still #1

He has most definitely had more than one photoshoot done with you both. And you guys have been trending on the Devilgram a couple of times already

Really you guys trend at least twice a month, and his fans love you!

They always ask where he got the doll from but he always laughs and says that “it’s a secret”

Imagine their shock when they see you walking and talking at RAD, some are amazed and some are downright scared

Fashion shows! 

He lives for dressing you up in cute clothes. Your style already suited you and he had great tastes so the new outfits he got you were just *chef’s kiss*

The cute little desserts that you made for him, he always posted it on the Devilgram before he ate it. They were just so cute MC and he couldn’t not show his fans!

Is the most careful brother when it comes to keeping you out of danger. He refused to let his body or skin damaged, and he wasn’t about to let it happen to you either! You are both way too dainty and fragile to let anything happen

Also spa days and self-care nights weekly!

You’re the perfect match made just for him MC

He finally has someone that can understand his struggle of being beautiful, bless you MC

Beelzebub

Soft boy is scared of touching you :(

He towers over you, and he’s scared to even be near you

It takes some time, but he starts to warm up to you

Is always gentle with you, no matter the scenario

Holding hands? He is hardly gripping your hand, said hand fitting loosely in his

Getting hugs? He’s meagerly holding you, not wanting to crush you

You once complained to Beel that it wasn’t fair to get half done hugs (if you were hugging, you were getting a real hug, not a scared one). 

He made you swear that if he was hurting you to let him know, so now you have your very own signal to use for him just in case

He was very tempted to wrap you in bubble wrap and just carry you around like that

He LOVES your sweets, even more than Luke’s and Barbatos’

No matter the size, he loves them, mainly because you made them and it was made with love, just for him

It always makes him feel so warm inside, and he doesn’t feel his appetite gnawing at him like usual

No one is dumb enough to try anything with you both in his presence and not, unless they want to end up either a: deep into the ground or b: into his stomach

You just make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he just loves everything about you. He just loves you

Belphegor

Hm, you look cute 

For a human

Acts like he doesn’t care, but you’ve caught him blushing before (he still does it too)

Won’t outright admit that you’re charming in your own little way, but he does in his sarcastic way like usual

“MC, you’re such a half-pint. You’re like my personal sized teddy bear.”

Has cuddled with you like you were his personal teddy bear (and still does, but you don’t complain at all)

Has a secret sweet tooth and eat your desserts whenever you make it just for him (and he doesn’t even share it with Beel, that monster)

Demons just have to look Belphie in the eyes, watch him flex his claws, and they all of a sudden forget about whatever they were planning. Good

He hates that you look so fragile, but at the same time he kinda likes it

You just look so soft, and you’re just so kind

It makes him feel like he’s protecting and caring for you, and that makes him feel calm and peaceful 

Please make sure that he’s okay MC, he’s scared that he’s gonna mess up again

Diavolo

The Prince of Hell is both surprised and pleased at your appearance

Do all humans look this charming or is it just you??

If someone as soft as you can survive living and going to school with demons, then this is great

Knew that you weren’t a doll, but still liked to admire you like one

Has asked more than once for pictures, you are just too enchanting!

Wants to have a portrait painted of you so he can hang it up in the castle

LOVES you baking for him! Loves when Barbatos does it too (even though it is kinda part of his job), but it feels different with you. It feels...domestic in a sense. Makes him feel like Diavolo, your friend and very interested in being your boyfriend, instead of Lord Diavolo, the prince that will be residing over Hell in the future

No one would be foolish enough to hurt you. If someone was, they wouldn’t even get the chance to lift a finger before they were directly dealing with him. Don’t take his kindness for weakness, he still is a demon after all, the future King of Hell to be exact

Was scared of touching you at first, but quickly grew out of it! He can handle his own strength, and you guys also have a signal to use just in case he does squeeze a little too tight

Will want to dress you up in royal clothes (if you were okay with it). Nothing is wrong with your current style, as a matter of fact it suits you! He basically just wants to play a fancy game of dress up/have a fashion show with royal clothing

Will take 100s of photos, no exaggeration

Asmo will be jealous, so be warned

Plus, he wants to know how his future lover/ruler would look in a crown so he can start taking measurements. You can never be too ready, right MC?

[doggiewoggiez]

There's an experience that's super common if not universal among larger, louder, more masc transfems, that I never see talked about. It comes typically from smaller, more petite and fragile transfems, the kind who put a lot of effort into things like passing (which there's nothing wrong with, and i hate that i have to specify that for this exact reason), where they're just looking for any reason to construe something you said as problematic in some way because they don't like you personally. It could be that they feel threatened because they see you as a big dangerous man and themselves as your potential victim. It could be that you and your presentation confuse them and that makes them angry. It could just be that this is how they treat everyone they're not currently having a discord petplay rp with. I've seen it all and more. But no matter what you do or say, if you reblog a post, they'll scour OP's account to find something problematic from 2018 that you wouldn't have found unless you were really digging, if you make a joke they'll say it was offensive or in poor taste and then turn around and make the same joke to universal applause, if you talk to them at all, they'll say you've been acting creepy and they're threatened by you.

Really, if you differentiate yourself from that vocal minority of the trans community that's all programmer socks and polycules, if you express an emotion that isn't uwu or >///< or ^~^ or :3, you're branded as hateful, violent, threatening, creepy, weird, or something else that just means you're the wrong type of tranny. God forbid you don't like something for some reason other than it's whatever the fuck "problematic" means. No matter how good your behavior is, they're repulsed by you, they revile you, but they've built this identity around softness and acting like a Steven Universe character, so they can't just say that outright. They can't even admit that to themselves, because it's unfashionable and doesn't match the soft aesthetic they're going for. So they make up reasons you're a bad person and then convince themselves before trying to convince others. And when they find or make up their nail in the coffin and you're branded a "bad person" it's anyone's game, they can be as shitty to you as they want without feeling guilty.

Obviously this is the oldest trick in the book, and it's gone by a million names. Tone policing, internalized transmisogyny, chronic grass touching deficiency, paggro, weaponized fragility, what have you. Trans women universally experience this from "TME" folks (because it's unfashionable to say AFABs, even though cis women and nonbinary people and transmascs can be equally hateful and vile about this), but I think it's something far more insidious when it comes from our own community. Does it make you feel like more of a woman to punch down like the others do? Does it make them smile and nod and pretend to approve of you long enough for you to feel something? Are you just going through the motions long after the people you learned this from have given you the same treatment, stalwart in the act of deciding that anyone who makes you feel that pang of discomfort somewhere between your stomach and your chest is a Bad Person, and it's not your fault that they're always the people who don't try for your ideas of femininity and trans womanhood? Are you too afraid to admit to yourself that, no matter how many posts you reblog about how there's no right or wrong way to be a woman, you don't believe it in your heart of hearts?

I'll never understand it, and it's not something that can be talked out. It's a treatment I'd bet money just about every transfem over 6'1 or 250lbs has gotten from someone or other. It's sad, too, because there's no concise way to articulate it, and if you say anything, you're just adding fuel to the fire, and you KNOW these girls who act like this just fully buy into it. It's completely cultlike behavior imo. If you or a friend seems to be suffering from this, if you look deep at your own behavior and question it, I advise you to really work hard at unlearning that shit. If the hurt you're causing others won't convince you, maybe the hurt you're causing yourself without realizing will.

[visd3stele]

🧭 how do you feel about writing an angst Jurdan fanfic where Post TWK Jude has gotten over her exile and is happily married with a child and husband and Cardan refuses to accept this. Like Madoc refused to accept it? You can have any ending you want…

it's more of a drabble/blurb, but here's what I pictured:

tw: angst, spoilers, a bit of a mad Cardan at the end (sort of)

a/n: in between bold quotations marks (") are the canon letters Holly Black wrote.

How the cruel prince and the wicked king had to let go of the queen of nothing

"Jude,

You are perhaps only being overly cautious, but I am writing to inform you that all is settled between the Undersea and Elfhame. The treaties are signed in sea foam and blood.

Expectantly, Cardan"

He has wrote the words with hope in his heart. A weak, fragile feeling that woke exaltation he never dared to allow inside his body so far.

They would be ripped and never sent.

Meanwhile, his spies would speak of Jude walking alone at night. And he would feel the pang of guilt biting at his brain.

"Jude,

Since I cannot imagine there is much in the human lands to interest you, I can only suppose your continued absence in Elfhame is due to me.

I wage you: come be angry at a nearer distance.

Cardan"

He bit his knuckles over the pen before signing it, tail slashing the air nervously. He thought his queen understood him and would come back at once. But perhaps he had been too vile again.

The letter was shredded and lost to the wind.

The spy reported Jude acquired a squeaky bicycle, beating the road all day long.

"Jude,

You are in no mood for them. Very well.

I am in no mood for them, either.

Let me write it outright: You are pardoned.

I revoke your banishment. I rescind my words.

Come home.

Come home and shout at me. Come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart if you must.

Just come home.

Cardan"

The king smiled as his fingers drummed against the table, already waiting for news even though the messenger has just left the room. Little did he know the letter arrived in someone else's hands. Burned to never see the human lands.

And Cardan's heart did shutter. Broken under the spy's words. Jude has been seen walking with a mortal boy, hand in hand, fingers entwined. She had smiled at him, laughed with him, hugged him, kissed him.

"Jude,

Not even responding to my missives is ridiculous and beneath you and I hate it.

Cardan"

What he really hated was the boy taking Jude from him. The mortal who thought himself better than the High King of Fae Folk himself. He clenched his jaws and gritted his teeth. For the first time in his entire life, he wished for a fight. Violence that ends with bloodshed. A duel to last until death takes out the loser.

This note too didn't make it to Jude. Who was happily saying "yes" to a marriage proposal.

" To the High Queen of Elfhame,

Above me is the same silvery moon that shines down on you. Looking at it makes me recall the glint of your blade pressed against my throat and other romantic moments.

I do not know what keeps you from returning to the High Court – whether it is vexation with me, or whether, having spent time in the mortal world you came to believe that a life free of the Folk is better than a life ruling over them.

In my most wretched hours I believe you will never come back. Why would you, save for your ambitions? You have always known exactly what I am and seen all my failings, all my weaknesses and scars. I flattered myself that at moments, you had feelings for me other than contempt, but even were that true, they would make but a thin gruel beside the feast of your other, greater desire.

And yet my heart is buried with you in the strange soil of the mortal world, as it was drowned with you in the cold waters of the Undersea.

It was yours before I could admit it, and yours it shall ever remain.

Cardan"

The High King toyed with the margins of the envelope before sliding the paper inside. He spilled the content of his heart out, forcing his tears back to not smudge the ink. Tears of lost hope, of heartache and hatred.

Oh, how he wished to kill the mortal who stole his wife! Cardan could feel the warmth of that boy's life leaking between his fingers. The pain Jude's fiance would feel at his hands. Would he scream for mercy? Would he yield? It would only prove him unworthy of Jude if something as peddling would be enough to scare him away. Would he fight for his queen, then? And would Jude support him or Cardan?

No matter. Because there would only be one alive at the end of the day. But the High King could only do as much as imagining. As much as it pained him, Cardan couldn't go reclaim Jude. He knew of her story, her mother's story and how she came into Madoc's care. And while a selfish part of him was thankful for it, the fae king understood that type of terror.

Being lied to by family, deceived by kin and before fully comprehending it, parents being taken away. Growing up in a lousy household, raised by the one(s) who did the most harm and no one being privy of it. Instead, the fae worship the ground they walk on. Having so many mixed feelings, impossible to untangle, too hard to understand. And not being able to tell which are just what people said to believe and which are true.

Cardan respected that. He wouldn't add to Jude's torment. But he couldn't give up either. She was engaged to that mortal, but she was married to him. A thread of hope still lingered in his heart strings.

The messenger delivered the letter. Not to Jude in the mortal land. But to the king's mother, in her own suit down the corridor. The fae woman rolled her eyes and scoffed at her son's antics before destroying yet another piece of paper of Cardan's happiness.

Jude danced around the apartment slowly, humming a lullaby to the baby in her arms. Hers and her husband's bundle of joy.

"Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude

please Jude"

Cardan broke the nib of his pen, spilling ink all over the paper. He didn't care. He kept writing trebling, unfinished letters. "Please, please, please," he muttered with no sign of stopping soon. The pleas were directed to no one, asking for nothing. Not anymore. It simply became a habit, a response to the woe he felt, the only way to take out the sorrow.

Some days, the High King's mumbles became screams. Some days, he'd let the forbidden name slip. "Jude," a prayer, a wish, a verdict. He cannot – refuses to – let her go.

And all the while Cardan grieved the loss of his wife, Jude and her husband filled the fridge with picture of their child, blissfully unaware of yet another missing note from Elfhame.

masterlist

requests

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Can you make headcanon with Demons Brothers ( Obey me ) who finds out about reader was abused ? Sorry for my english, it's not my first languague.

Well, I don’t know what’s like to be physically abused by your family, but I’ve been through my fair share of abuse in a relationship, so I can understand where you come from here.

For anyone who sees this post and needs comfort after any kind of dark thing that happened to you, including abuse of any kind - Yes, even the types that happen in relationships - You get what I mean - I will write for that.

I had BNHA blogs who wrote comfort pieces for me and it helped to make me feel better, and if I can help anyone feel better with themselves after this like that, then I’m happy x

Also, I don’t write for so many characters in one post anymore, it’s honestly draining and I can’t bring myself to write like that anymore, so I will just write for Lucifer, Mammon and Satan x

- - - - -

Lucifer

Out of everyone, Lucifer is the only one who can keep his composure, albeit barely so.

He is a demon, he knows all humans sin, but unlike demons, humans are supposed to be both good and evil, so what the hell possessed those idiots to behave so terribly with a pure angel such as yourself?

He just couldn’t comprehend why the hell humans are capable of such atrocities, when not even demons behave this way.

Ahh, the anger he’s feeling, not even Satan, in his worst phase, could understand - It was a monumental, infinite, incomprehensible kind of rage that burnt his heart so badly.

Despite everything he was feeling as you told him everything that happened, he merely bit his lip to contain himself, and hugged you tightly, letting you cry in his arms, as he stroked your hair, knowing that it can calm down a human - Or at least some sort of sense of protection and warmth.

He would tell you how you were so incredibly brave for managing to tell someone about the horrible, while also, you are so strong for being able to live with this for so long, and bear with the consequences of abuse.

But you managed to break through, somehow, and you were amazing - In his eyes, you were the strongest human alive.

Lucifer knows how horrible emotional pain is, and he would much rather feel physical one, than the other type, because he knows he won’t break that way.

But seeing you so fragile, small and broken in his arms ultimately shattered his heart, and he swore to get revenge in the worst way possible on your abusers.

He knows revenge solves nothing, but at least he’ll get some satisfaction, and somehow, knowing that the people who did bad things to you are there no more, may make you feel just a bit safer.

Despite being one of the most sensible brothers, he will still search to do more and more human psychology research, and with your help and insight, will try to help you recover, even a tiny bit, and will be there every step of the way as you are healing, never letting go of your hand.

- - -

Mammon

Okay, lemme tell you straight -

While Mammon is the most in-touch with his emotional side, he will suffer the most hearing that you, his most beloved person alive, had to go through such terrible things in your life.

You were just a small, frail human, you barely lived, compared to him, so why did you have to go through such trauma?!

He would outright cry, like anime waterfalls, and would cling on you, rocking with you back and forth, but he wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort you, or himself, at that point, since he was hurting so much.

His brain would stop for a little while, and he would remember all the shit he got from Maddi, and sometimes, even the bad things that he accepts from his brothers, as a way to keep them happy, but ultimately, he would manage to get to the point where he tries to find ways to ease your soul of your burdens and traumas.

He will be even clingier than before, will spoil you even more, will make sure NOBODY yells around you, does moves too abruptly to scare you off, and basically, will thread carefully every step of the way to prevent anything from being a potential trigger.

Will literally kill Asmo if he tries to hug you without consent, or if he tries to flirt or make advances towards you, and while he won’t say why, he’ll just throw Asmo away and drag you away, to a safer place - Unless you reassure him that his younger brother isn’t a trigger or a threat in your eyes.

Poor Mammon will be a bit paranoid and will go overboard with a lot of things, threating you like a frail snowdrop, and it isn’t until you tell him that you won’t break from little things like this, that he can afford to take it a bit easier than before.

But don’t forget that he will even yell and fight Lucifer if he dares get mad at you for whatever reason, or use his demon form or powers around you.

And the same goes for the Avatar of Wrath, or Gluttony, when he’s dangerously hungry.

Also, he will kill Belphie if he attempts to kill you.

- - -

Satan

Satan.exe stopped working.

I mean, how is he supposed to react anyway?

His most precious person tells him that they have been mistreat, and he’s supposed to stay...Calm?

That’s impossible.

He will literally get up and leave without a word, will leash out his rage in a place where you couldn’t possible go, and when he’s finally done, will return to you as if nothing happened, albeit, with the necessary apologies for leaving like that, and returning with a lot of sweets, comfort food, flowers and anything that he knows you love and would bring a smile on your face.

Despite how much he reads, he only knows things in theory, and needs your guidance to apply things practically because, as he knows very well, every person is different, and different things work for different people.

With you, and around you, he will be the calmest specimen possible known to this realm, and the others, because he knows his rage could be a horrible trigger for you, and the last thing he wants is for you to be afraid of him, or, Heaven forbid, cry because of his mistakes.

Satan will make sure to check on you at all times, either f2f or via texts, and when you’re going out somewhere, or just chilling together, he will hold your wrist.

He will say he thinks you have very cute and delicate hands, but really, he subtly checks for your pulse to see if you have any anxiety spikes or anything that would be proof that something is bothering you in any way, shape or form.

As everyone knows, Satan is very attentive about literally everything, and incredibly detail-oriented, so he will over-analyse anything and come up with his own conclusions, and once he’s used to understanding your behaviour, he will automatically go and solve anything in your place, and it will shock you, ‘cause he’s so on point?? How did he even guess??

He won’t treat you any differently, considering that he’s always been sweet and polite with you, but will definitely criticise his brothers or other strangers if they behave in a way that may be triggering...Or hell, maybe annoying, ‘cause it gives him a motive to get away from nuisances who won’t stop talking.

Apart from his inferiority complex, he never received any kind of abuse, so he isn’t familiar with the feeling, nor can he claim to fully comprehend or sympathise with what you’re going through, however, he understands logically, and knowing how much it hurts you even know, and how it still affects you long-term, he is aware that he is unable to let you brave this storm alone.

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 13:

Gif credit: @hqtchner

A/N: I toyed with several ideas for this one, but I wanted the reader to be strong in her own right which is why this takes the direction it does.

Warnings: Strong depictions of violence, assault, blood, vomiting. Graphic injury, choking, gun violence.

—���—

“What you remember saves you.” - W.S Merwin

———

“You don’t like what I’ve done with the place?” 

“Jordan.” You breathe. “What did you do?” 

His jaw sets. His expression goes from glee to fury and he’s next to you in a flash, nose to nose, dragging your head back by the hair on the nape of your neck. A wince escapes your mouth when the pulling sends a sting up your scalp. 

“What do you mean, what did I do? Isn’t it obvious?” He sneers, punctuating his words with another pull of your hair. 

You cry out in pain, your neck straining. The rabid look in his eyes and his bared teeth send shivers down your spine.

He continues, “I made sure you were going to stay all...mine.” He whispers, releasing his grip, smoothing the top of your head. “Isn’t it sweet? I did it all so I could have you all to myself… and instead of thanking me, you’re acting like you’re above me. Like you always do. Maybe I need to teach you how to be grateful-” 

“I’ll be grateful.” You offer in a quick breath. “I mean- I am. I am grateful. I was just so…” You swallow thickly, tearing your eyes away from the pictures, “Surprised that you did all this. For me.” You fight the tears pricking your eyes. 

“You mean that?” 

You swallow the bile rising in your throat. “Yes. I do.” 

“Good. Y’know all I ever wanted was us to be together? When you broke up with me, I admit, I was angry. I thought you were fucking somebody else.” He paces the length of the room and that’s when your gaze falls to the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “But I realised you couldn’t possibly.”

You brace yourself when his gaze falls to his handiwork on the walls. 

“But then…” He inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw you with him.” His volume rises steadily. “I send you gifts, I send you letters, I give you clues, I even draw blood for you and you repay me by parading around another man?!” 

You cry out when he delivers a blow to the left side of your face, a crack resounding in the room. Your skin blisters red hot where he strikes you, you swear he’s torn open some skin on your cheek. It sends your head spinning, you figure you’re already nursing a concussion, this just makes it worse. 

“That’s not-”

“Don’t you interrupt me.” He spits, his face close enough for you to smell the bourbon on his breath. “You had him come to my house today, try to scare me? He thinks he’s a big powerful man, FBI… that badge doesn’t mean shit, he doesn’t know who I am.” 

“Jordan-”

“What was it about him anyway? You could’ve had me, you know, we could’ve been a dynasty.” He’s grandstanding. Always did have a problem with his fragile ego. He turns his back to you, scanning the pictures on the wall. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. I’m having it taken care of.” He mutters.

Your blood runs cold. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re not stupid, you couldn’t possible have thought that I’d let him live?” 

Your heart skips. The ‘other guy’ that was to be taken care of - Hotch.

“Jordan, no. It wasn’t like that, I swear.” He turns slowly, rage behind his eyes that’s only thinly veiled by a psychotic smile. “There’s nothing between us! Please don’t do this. I’m begging you, don’t do this.” You plead.

“Why do you care?”

“-What?”

“Why… do you… care?” His eyes are fanatical, nostrils flared. “If nothing happened between you, why do you care what happens to him?” 

You know why now.

“Because I don’t want anyone to die! Him, Emily, anybody! I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You stutter through your sobs. “Please don’t do this.” 

“You don’t want him to die? How stupid do you think I am?” He grabs the back of your head and directs you to a picture of you and Hotch on the gazebo - the day you’d met. “You look at him like that because he’s a friend?” He spits. 

He’s right, though - that’s the thing. 

You don’t know how you didn’t realise sooner, how you didn’t see it sooner. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t see your own face when you were around him, but the way you look at him, your smile. 

You don’t think you’ve looked at anybody like that before. 

Tears roll down your cheeks now, eyes welling over. 

He smooths over your hair, straightening out his own shirt. “I will make it quick though. Humane. I owe him that much.” 

“What?” 

“I owe him. How do you think you got here?” When you can’t formulate the words he continues, “Hm, let me spell it out for you.” He continues his rapid pacing, fingers compulsively scratching his neck. “We break up, you betray me, so I leave the country. I come back, try to get you back, you betray me, again. FBI man comes into the picture, his girlfriend feels neglected, said girlfriend then conveniently runs into me at a bar after an argument, confides in me and starts sleeping with me. She’s a real peach, though. Total Type-A, wouldn’t let me fuck her raw.” He adds, rolling his eyes. 

You feel nauseous. 

You wonder if Hotch knows. 

He goes on, “I fuck her, she tells me everything I want to know. Including the fact that she thought he was cheating on her.” He laughs bitterly. “I thought we might have had something when you called me a few months ago, remember that? That was a good time.” Your stomach turns when you think back to the worst mistake you’d ever made. “But then you stopped taking my calls, I put two together from there, figured you were fucking him. I knew then that he had to die.” He rolls his eyes. 

His smile reveals a row of eerily straight teeth but there’s nothing behind his eyes except a sick kind of glee. 

“It wasn’t like that, I swear to you, he never touched me.” You plead with him, desperately. You reckon with the fact that if you couldn’t regain control of this situation, Hotch would die. “Look, I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” 

“I swear. Anything. Just call it off, please.” He considers your statement for a moment, kneeling down between your knees again. He makes a point to flash you his gun, the silver glinting, before reaching for a switchblade that’s tucked into his back pocket. You flinch when he brings it purposely closer to you but he cuts you free. 

“I’m going to test you. Stay here with me. You run, I kill him.” He lays the knife flat against your bruised cheek, “Then I kill you.” He whispers. You wince when the sharp edge breaks a thin layer of skin and you feel a warm trail of blood on your cheek. 

You nod desperately, agreeing. “I swear. I’ll do anything, just call it off.” 

Just as he finishes cutting you free, his phone vibrates against the wooden table under the window. He excuses himself, face lighting up for a moment. You try your best to hear, but the voice on the other end is indistinguishable. 

Jordan’s responses are short. 

“Fitz.”

“Hello?” He presses the phone closer to his ear. “Lawrence? It’s done?” He smiles at the response from the other side. 

“30 minutes.” He hangs up and rattles off a quick text message before setting the phone down again. 

He sighs, concealing his unhinged glee when he turns to look at you. “Bad news babe.” He says tutting, knowingly with a disturbing smile. “I know I said I’d call it off but,” he waves the phone in the air, “it’s already done. Your friend, Aaron?”

Oh please, no. Don’t say it. 

“He’s dead.” 

———

Once the first bang reverberates in the nurses’ station, time seems to move in slow motion. McCall yells for everybody to get down, cocking his gun. Panic erupts for a moment before everybody falls to the ground, the first shot already fired. 

Where it comes from, who fires first, it isn’t clear, the whole thing in reality is over in a matter of seconds but time still seems to stop. 

Now, McCall kneels over a dead body, hyper-aware of eyes on him, “He’s gone.” He whispers. 

A hand grips his shoulder from behind as he stares down at the corpse in front of him laying in a pool of blood, three bullet holes in the chest. 

His ears still ring. 

“Hey. Emily’s fine. I had two cops posted outside her door.” He turns to find Hotch, who can’t tear his eyes away from Officer Lawrence’s dead body in front of them. 

They’re about to let medical personnel clear out the area and wheel him away in a body bag when Hotch spots something in Lawrence’s scrub pockets. 

“Wait! Hold it a sec?” He asks, retrieving a piece of paper and cellphone from Lawrence. They make their way back to Emily’s hospital room in unison.

McCall looks at him, puzzled. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“That was the first person you ever shot, right? He’s dead. You’re allowed to not be okay.” 

“I’m fine - I need to focus. I need to get her back.” He’d be lying if he said his hands weren’t trembling but he has more pressing matters on his hand. The need to get you back safe and sound outweighs any personal conflict for him. He unfolds the piece of paper, muttering aloud a series of numbers. “It’s a phone number. What’d you wanna bet it’s Jordan?” He does a double take when he sees his own name written in capital letters on the other side of the paper, passing it to McCall. 

“Some vendetta, hm? He was sent to kill you.” McCall takes the phone from Hotch and starts to dial when Hotch places a stalling arm on his. 

“Wait.”

He dials Garcia’s number deftly, asks her to search for a location on the number before they call it, but to his disappointment, it’s a prepaid. He then has Garcia set up a track and trace before he lets McCall dial the number.

“Ready, Garcia?” 

The phone rings three times before it’s answered, Jordan’s voice curt and straight to the point, assuming it’s Lawrence. Hotch can hear Garcia’s typing and beeping but when McCall doesn’t say anything, Jordan takes matters into his own hands. 

“It’s done?” Jordan asks outright. 

“Yes.” McCall replies with little inflection, keeping his voice even so as to not arouse suspicion. Jordan gives McCall a time - 30 minutes, before snapping the phone shut. 

McCall tries the number again, but it’s dead. Destroyed. 

“Garcia, anything?” Hotch asks desperately. 

“No, sir, it was barely long enough to triangulate the call, I’m sorry.” 

“Keep searching, Garcia, we need this address. Look for something in isolation, out of the way. It’s gotta mean something to him.”

“Yes, sir. Typing as we speak.”

Hotch rubs an exasperated hand over his beard, “Y’know the media can’t get wind of this, if he has access to a TV or radio and sees I’m alive? He’ll kill her.” He shudders as the words leave his mouth, making way for the possibility that he does not want to reckon with. 

You might already be dead. 

He dials quickly “Chief Barnes? I need a favour.”

———

He’s been pacing the length of Emily’s hospital room for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Chief Barnes to call in every favour he can to keep the media at bay so they can keep up the charade. He increases the TV volume opposite Emily’s bed when he sees a news report flash across the scene. 

“Good evening, everybody. We come to you live tonight with some breaking news.” 

He braces himself. Did Barnes manage to cover the hit on him?

“The daughters of two US Ambassadors have reportedly been involved in what appears to be a multi-car collision in the Virginia countryside, earlier tonight.” 

Two pictures appear side by side of you and Emily. 

“The daughter of Ambassador Prentiss was rushed to hospital earlier tonight and remains in critical condition at Bridgepoint Hospital after sustaining multiple injuries. The daughter of the US Ambassador to France however, is reported to be missing. The Ambassador himself is reportedly unaware of his daughter’s condition, presumed to be en-route to Paris tonight. Three people were pronounced dead at the scene, including Metro PD officers Evan Matthews and Howard Denton.”

He waits anxiously for any mention of his own name or Jordan, Lawrence, but the anchor passes over to the correspondent.

He sighs in relief, just as his phone rings. 

“Garcia?”

“I think I finally have a location on Fitzgerald. I checked for any and all properties under Senator Fitzgerald’s name, his second and third wives, his spawn’s name, even the Fitzgerald Family Trust. Nada.” She pauses for breath. “So. I dug down deeper. I searched instead for any properties under Sloan Marie Fitzgerald - still nothing. But then I chanced a search under her maiden name, Hamilton, and wouldn’t you know - the Hamilton family had a cabin between Rock Creek Park and Montgomery County. The late Mrs. Fitzgerald would take him to said cabin most summers before she died.”

“Alright, good work. Send us-”

“I'm not even going to let you finish that sentence, because it’s quite frankly insulting. Coordinates are on their way to you now, Sirs.”

Hotch huffs a laugh, it’s the most he can muster right now. He knows he owes Garcia a massive bouquet of flowers after all this is over. 

He grabs McCall by his jacket. “Suit up. We’ve got an address.” 

———

‘He’s dead.’ 

The onset of shock and unmistakable rise of nausea had caused you to retch violently and empty the contents of your stomach into the nearest toilet. 

Your legs had given out then, and you’re now planted on a dusty armchair, finding yourself staring into nothingness, your body still stinging with the shock and injuries you’d sustained. 

It’s all you’ve done for the past fourty something minutes. The blood stays rushing in your ears, and the pounding in your head is unrelenting. You haven’t said a word since, your body’s energy drained. You’re almost catatonic, unable to even shed a few tears for Hotch’s death. 

He’s dead. He’s dead because of you. 

You think back to the first time you met, he’d been so bright eyed and optimistic. Disarming. You think about the way he’d told you about his hopes and dreams, his plans for the future as a profiler. He’d had so much to live for. All of that had been ripped away from him because he’d gotten involved in your case. It was your fault he was dead. 

And you didn’t know how you were going to make it out of this. Your limbs feel like concrete - fatigue, shock and grief make it hard to formulate any kind of rational thought. Jordan’s hand comes to smooth the top of your head once again, but the gesture is far from comforting or loving. 

“It’s okay. You’ll see in time, this was for the best. This way, there aren’t any distractions.” He whispers. He’s been pacing the length of the cabin, repeatedly checking his second burner as though he’s awaiting some news. 

He resumes his pacing when you finally break your silence, your voice hoarse. 

“You killed a man.” You whisper. 

“What’s that?” 

“You killed a man.” You sob quietly. “You had someone killed, that doesn’t mean anything to you?” 

“Oh I did more than just have your little lover killed. I made sure your father and that Prentiss bitch were taken care of too.” 

Your vision tunnels, a high-pitched whine penetrating your skull. You feel like the ground has just been ripped from under you, like you’re falling. You can feel your heart shatter, the splintering fragments of your life piercing your skin. 

“My father? He’s not here. He’s-”

He glances at his watch. “-On his way to Paris?” You feel the bile rising again. “I know. Like I said, I’m having it all taken care of. They’re all dead, babe - or will be, soon.” He brings a hand to your face, brushing his thumb over your cut. “Don’t you see? I did it so I could have you all to myself.” 

The glee in his voice provokes something in you, a rage you’ve never felt before. You figure you have nothing else to lose, everything and everyone you ever loved is dead, you’d either fight and die quicker, or you’d stay and die slowly. 

In a move that stuns even you, you spit on Jordan’s face and bring your hand up to strike him notwithstanding the piercing pain in your ribs. The flat of your palm makes sharp contact with his bearded cheek. The sound echoes in the room, and your own hand stings from the force, but a minute satisfaction settles into your bones. 

He takes a minute to steady himself, but when he turns to look at you, his eyes flash with something you’ve never seen in a person before. In one fell swoop, he drags you to stand by your hair, pushing you into a glass frame against the wall. 

The glass shatters, puncturing the skin on your cheek and forearm where you bear the brunt of the impact. He lands two blows to your stomach, causing you to keel over, winding you. The pain blooms to your already bruised ribs, your breaths ragged. He grabs you then by the throat, pinning you against the wall, your breaths coming short and constricted. 

He shakes you against the wall, his hand tight around your throat, cutting off your air. “You ever pull something like that again, I’ll kill you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.” He growls in a low voice. “Do you understand me?” You can feel the blood pumping in your face, your eyes starting to bulge. 

You drive your knee into his crotch with all the force you can muster, exactly like Hotch had taught you. You then go for his shin that only gives you mere seconds to grab your breath when he lets you go in pain. 

You fall with him, knees giving out when you gasp for breath, and when you see him charging towards you again, you reach to your right for a dusty glass vase that sits on a single table. You manage to get yourself back on your feet right as he’s about to make contact with you again, the butt of the vase smashing into his skull. 

He cries out in pain as he falls to the ground again on all fours, blood streaming down his face. A gash on his forehead seeps blood and several pieces of glass are embedded in his face. 

You’re still trying to catch your own breath when you spot the silver glint of his 9mm catch the light in his back pocket. 

This is your chance.

You half-crawl, half-run to him, landing a violent kick to his stomach to strike him down. You grab the gun from his back pocket, stumbling a little from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your hands trembling. You check the magazine and load it as fast as your hands will allow.

You grip the Beretta just as Hotch had taught you, wrapping your dominant hand around the magazine, your index finger parallel to the chamber. Your other hand wraps around your dominant, as you stand over him.

“Get up.” You snarl. “Get up, NOW!” You order him through your coughs. 

He turns around slowly, slipping twice on his way up, groaning with the exertion. His face mirrors your own, a gash on his lip and forehead, blood streaming down his cheek. 

He chuckles darkly, revealing a set of shark-like teeth that are covered in his blood. “Oh… you think you’re hot shit. You even know how to use that thing? Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

Your body aches feverishly and you swear you could pass out at any minute, vision blurry. You can feel your grip loosening and you’re trying to centre yourself when Jordan takes advantage of your momentary slip. 

He lunges for you in a flash, knife in hand. 

———

“We’re about a mile out, I want sirens and lights off. He can’t know we’re coming.” Hotch says into his radio. He’s watching the road ahead as they get deeper into the woods, the off-road terrain making it hard to keep control of the SUV. 

They’re backed up at rear by three MPD police cars, Chief Fuller’s attempt at making nice with Hotch after their earlier altercation.

He swallows thickly, his mouth like cotton. He knows he can’t afford one wrong move, not here. Not with you. He needs to get you back. He made a promise to Emily. 

He’ll die trying. 

He keeps a firm grip on your chain, rubbing it one last time for steady luck before tucking it into his shirt pocket. 

A clearing of trees reveals another path to them. It leads off into the distance, to a small wooden cabin around 80 feet away. It’s illuminated by amber light emanating from a single window. 

“Alright, guys. Nice and slow, headlights off, we’re gonna dismount now. Everybody out.” He whispers into the comms once they clear another 50 feet. 

Leaves rustle underneath their feet as they stealthily approach the cabin, guns cocked. Hotch has three cops flanking him and McCall brings up the rear, covering the back exit. 

They’re almost at the entrance when a loud bang resounds from inside, and Hotch short circuits, his knuckles white around his glock. 

Inside the cabin, you send Jordan flying with a shot to his shoulder, the smell of gun smoke burning your nostrils. Your hands tremble violently, your mind temporarily blanking - you feel like you’re swimming. Your ears ring from the noise, a high-pitched whine piercing your brain. 

There’s another bang almost immediately after Jordan stumbles backwards but you’re sure you only fired one shot. 

Jordan’s body in front of you is your only focal point, so much so that it’s only when you see McCall and two cops approach him writhing on the floor that you come back into your body. 

You realise the second bang had been them kicking down the front door. Your hands on the Beretta loosen just slightly and you let out a deep exhale. The voices in the room are still swimming as your brain slowly catches up. 

“Grab her.” McCall’s voice calls out. He shouts into the comms that he needs medics, and suddenly there’s a distinct feeling of a hand on your wrist and a body next to you. You reassure yourself that Jordan is on the ground so you let your hands fall limp, dropping the gun and it falls to the ground with a sharp clack. Your eyes are still trained on McCall pressing on Jordan’s wound. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” The voice cuts through your still-ringing ears. 

You know that voice. 

You’d know that voice anywhere. 

Your heart thunders, and your lips start to tremble as you try to reconcile everything you thought was reality with what’s really in front of you. 

You turn slowly to find an achingly familiar pair of warm hazel eyes. 

He’s alive. 

“Aaron?” You sob. You reach out for him but he catches you before you can stumble, his arms steady around your waist. He whispers into your hair, bringing a protective hand up to cradle your head as you sob into his chest. 

“It’s okay. I got you. I told you I’d come for you.” 

His voice is the last thing you hear before you black out, your body finally offering you some well-earned reprieve.

———

Tags:​ @oreogutz @andromedasstarship @galacticnerd-78 @izzyl13 @bananabucky @crying-river @purpledragonturtles @gabbysblogthingy​ @archiveofadragon​ @yoshigguk @acidicbloody @jeor @ivebeenthinkingboutu​ @bauslut @averyhotchner @vashanatasha @hotchwhore15 @pjmjams @slxtherinchxser

< Prev | Next >

[strawwritesfic]

Thor Odinson x Pregnant!Female!Midgardian!Reader: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [Ch. 5]

Summary: You never imagined that shadow of death would be quite so dark.  

Challenge: “9 Months” challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archive -- Bonus Three -- Rape Pregnancy

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (rape (not written out in detail, but the first chapter goes up to the event and the rest of the chapters deal with the fallout); assault and battery; abusive relationship; stalking; pregnancy resulting from rape; victim blaming insinuations from various characters; discussion of abortion; references to depression; references to rape kits; references to law procedures; references to restraining orders, some foul language; not Infinity War compliant; not Thor Ragnarok compliant; set post-Ant-Man and the Wasp; Hope & Reader friendship; the Pyms as Reader’s second family)

IMPORTANT NOTE: Thor is not the character involved in any of the awful things warned about above. Additionally, if there is anything you’d like me to add to the tag list, please let me know!

Pairings: Thor/Female!Reader; Scott/Hope; Hank/Janet; past!Male!OC/Reader

Master List

Chapter 5: Starting to Show

Two weeks into your second trimester, a miracle occurred. Endless days spent too tired to do more than nap on the couch came to a sudden an end one sparkling April morning. It was not the sort of miracle that you prayed for, nor did your exhaustion dissipate entirely, but you weren’t about to let the rare opportunity for activity to get away from you. You hustled out to the front yard to do some gardening before this bout of energy could vanish once again.

This year’s garden doubtless would not be good as the one you typically put so much time and care into. Your gynecologist had warned you at your last appointment that a woman’s second trimester was often their favorite for a reason—but you tried not to think very hard about that, or about the looming decision of what to do with the baby while you worked on preparing for planting as the sun made its slow way up the sky.

“[Name].”

A hand on your shoulder brought you out of your trance. With your fingers still half-buried in the cold, moist earth just recently exposed to warm spring air, you turned your head to look at Thor.

His presence did not surprise you; he had insisted on coming out to enjoy the weather as well. Words could not express the relief you felt upon his offer, so you had not expressed it. He was too kind to outright say why he wanted to sit against the single tree and watch you. According to him, seeing the love of his life doing work she loved brought him great joy, but you knew he knew more about your anxiety than he let on.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked.

Thor shook his head. “Not at all. I just thought I’d let you know that I am going to go inside.”

“You’re leaving?”

“For as short a time as can be allowed. It is nearly lunch. I thought perhaps you might be hungry.”

“Starving!”

Your eagerness made him laugh. He bent to press a quick kiss to the top of your sweaty, dirt-dotted forehead, then he straightened and headed for the door.

“I will return promptly with sustenance. If you have need of me, I am but a shout away,” he said as he reached the porch.

“Okay! I miss you already.”

“And I you.” Thor blew you a second kiss. Shortly after that, he ducked inside.

Your heart fluttered at the sound of the door snapping shut behind him. You knelt alone in the grass with nothing but the chirping birds and distant traffic for company. Anyone might see you exposed like that, and the kitchen window faced the side yard. All Thor would be able to see were the fragile sprouts of the root vegetables growing there. Originally, it had seemed like a good idea for you to hold off planting the tomatoes and squashes in the vegetable garden until later in the afternoon so as to take advantage of the shade your patio offered. Now you wondered if you ought to start on those early. Doing so would keep you in Thor’s line of sight at least…

No. Wrapping your hand more securely around the handle of your trowel, you dived back into the dirt. You had been relying far too much on him lately—especially once your baby bump grew large enough for people to see. He went out of his way to look after you. This included not only learning how to cook so you would have something to eat on your worst days of depression, but also taking a temporary leave of absence from the Avengers. If you didn’t rein it in soon, he was bound to get sick of your clingy behavior.

The rate at which you worked soon left you with nothing to do but plant. Planting required seeds. This was the difficult part; you had to keep your thoughts very carefully balanced as you picked up one of the packets at your side. Thor didn’t need to come back with twelve grilled cheese sandwiches to find you bawling in the yard because—

You tore the envelope open with your teeth, then spilled the seeds into your free palm. They were long and multicolored: white in the middle, with black on one end and a bristle of orange at the other. Along with the snapdragons waiting patiently for their introduction to the soil, you hoped that the marigolds’ bursts of color would bring some cheer in the dreaded days to come. Neither would unless you finished your job. Busying yourself with pressing the seeds into the dirt, you allowed yourself to get lost in the hobby you so loved long enough to lose track of the passing time.

“And here I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful.”

This time, the voice that issued from behind you was not expected. No, it wasn’t Thor—but the voice was familiar all the same. A chill washed over you at the thought, then froze you to the spot when you heard the front gate creak open a minute or so later.

He wasn’t there. He couldn’t be there. You hadn’t heard a peep from Kevin in months. No letters appeared in your mailbox; no calls rang out in the middle of the night. Occasionally he or his car would appear to you in crowded streets, but those were only visual hallucinations brought on by trauma. Thor never saw Kevin, and he had been on high alert for any sign of the man he so desired to introduce to Mjolnir.

For some time, you did your best to continue with your task. These marigolds weren’t going to plant themselves. The prickle on the back of your neck would not dissipate, however, no matter how hard you concentrated on the proper spacing for your seeds. You could not keep yourself from getting to your feet so you could give the yard a thorough check. Hopefully that would prove you were hearing things, and then you could carry on until Thor returned.

No such luck. Kevin stood there, bold as brass, underneath the tree. He smiled as you met his eyes.

“Pregnancy really suits you,” he said.

What possible response could anyone expect to that statement? You didn’t have the wherewithal to come up with anything remotely witty either. None of your hallucinatory Kevins had stuck around this long before. They disappeared almost as soon as you spotted them. Not this Kevin. In fact, he seemed to grow larger and more solid as you stared at him. The world darkened and waved around the ages; you felt gravity sucking your head down, down, down—

“Hey,” he said gently, much louder this time.

The good news was that Kevin had not come into possession of Scott’s adapted Ant-Man suit. The bad news was that he had changed in size because he had walked right up to you. Only his swift action had prevented you from fainting and hitting your head on one of the gardening tools surrounding you. You could not find it in yourself to be grateful for his rescue, though, because that meant he had his hands on your body.

“You okay?” he asked.

Your breath hitched in your lungs, preventing you from calling for help. You settled for shoving him as hard as you could away from you. Somehow this surprised him; Kevin went off balance and fell backward onto the lawn. Unfortunately, doing this also put an end to any of your delusions of him being a figment of your imagination. His body was just as hard and real—if not more so—as it had been the last time you had seen him.

It wouldn’t take him long to recover. You snatched up the cultivator rake at your feet and brandished it at his face. His eyes narrows on its wicked points. Slowly, Kevin lifted his hands in front of him…

…then snickered as he made to sit up more properly on the ground.

“What do you think you’re gonna do with that?” he wanted to know.

“I plan to convince you to get away from me,” you snarled.

“By gouging my eyes out?”

“I mean it, Kev.”

“Why?” He blinked up at you. “I was only trying to keep you from getting hurt.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

“Seriously, [Name]. What if you had fallen on that thing? That’s the sort of accident your boyfriend should be here to prevent, don’t you think?”

He said this with such a blithe expression that you knew. His appearance in your yard was not some chance encounter. Kevin had been watching at least all morning for the opportunity to talk to you alone.

“Get out of my yard! Now!” you said.

Kevin shook his head. “This all sounds a little familiar, doesn’t it? Haven’t we had this conversation before? You couldn’t get me to leave then, and you can’t get me to leave now. Not until I want to.”

“You wouldn’t dare. We’re in full view of the street.”

“Right. Which means you wouldn’t dare assault me with a sharp object here either.”

Why did he have to be right so often? Still, you didn’t put down your makeshift weapon. It seemed to be keeping Kevin at a fair distance, if nothing else. You didn’t quit scowling either. On the off chance one of your neighbors spotted this conversation, at least they would know you weren’t enjoying it.

“Relax, [Name],” he said coaxingly. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Like I believe that.”

“When have I ever hurt you?” he asked innocently.

Rage pumped into your system. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the last time you came to see me?”

“That’s not what I remember happening.”

His words twisted your gut. Just how much of this meeting had he planned ahead? Using your own words against you made it seem like he had wanted to talk to you for a very long time. Now you wondered if all those times you’d seen him before had been hallucinations after all. Saying any of this in front of Thor, Hope, or Hank would be a much stupider decision than you could give Kevin credit for. Your voice was hushed as you said:

“Why did you come here, Kevin?”

“Can’t a guy visit his ex-girlfriend unannounced without being accused of having ulterior motives? I thought you wanted to stay friends.”

Kevin had no clue just how close you were to shearing his smug mouth right off his face. He couldn’t know that, because otherwise he would have stopped talking. Keeping yourself from acting on the impulse took a tremendous amount of effort—effort you might have otherwise spent on screaming at him, if you’d had any to spare.

“Say what you came here to say and go,” you snapped. “This time I will call the police. Don’t test me.”

“I didn’t come here to say anything. I only wanted to see if it was true.”

“To see if what was true?”

He reached for you, as though wanting to take your hand and pull you down next to him. You instead took a step backward. Shrugging, he allowed his hand to drop.

“I heard you were pregnant,” he answered.

Nausea swelled like a toxic bubble in your stomach. How had Kevin heard? Not many people knew about your baby—only Thor, Hank, Janet, Hope, and Scott that you’d spoken to personally. Even the last you trusted not to spread the news around casually. Hope would kill him in the most painful way she could dream up. The Avengers had some idea, of course, but they had no reason to tell anyone else. Your parents, hidden away on some secret mission, remained out of the loop. All this meant that no one you informed would ever have let Kevin in on the secret.

“Are you following me?” you demanded.

Kevin scoffed. “I’ve got better things to do than keep tabs on my exes, [Name].”

“Then how—”

“Your ‘bestie’? Yeah, she’s not the only one with connections at your new company. I’ve got power now, [Name]. I’ve got friends. Did you really think wearing a bunch of baggy sweaters around the office was going to fool anyone?”

“Who told you, then?”

“I don’t think I want to tell you that,” he said slowly, standing as he did.

You hefted your rake to chest level. “Maybe that’s because they don’t exist.”

“No, they exist, but your eyes are actually spinning around in your head right now. If I give you their name, you might go out and murder them for all I know.”

Well, Kevin wasn’t too far off the mark with that observation. Your mind raced through a list of your coworkers, trying in vain to figure out which of them had betrayed you. Not a single one of them was someone you confided in, so either your boss had violated your confidence after you spoke with her, or it had to be a person with plenty of opportunities to observe you as you went through the various symptoms of your first trimester.

But all this speculation really only served to keep you away from a much more important, obvious question:

“What do you care if I’m pregnant?”

“Because the baby’s mine, obviously.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Oh, come on, [Name],” he said in that aggravating falsely patient voice he used to use to win every argument. “Who else’s could it be? You and I discussed your boyfriend’s schedule, remember? He’s out of town too often to meet your needs.”

“Whatever you think, this baby has nothing to do with you.”

“I don’t see why not.”

Kevin never had been great at understanding the concept of personal boundaries. Even when you’d just been friends as children—even when the two of you spent half your time together with Hope in the mix—he didn’t much care whether someone wanted to be touched or not. During your time dating, that had meant a lot of hand holding on hot, sweaty afternoons after trying to express to him just how badly you needed some space. Now such behavior came across as a lot more threatening. He surged forward without giving you a chance to react and placed his hands directly on the swell of your stomach.

“Hng,” was all you managed to say, too torn between fear and fury to physically react.

The smile he shot you indicated he either didn’t notice your discomfort or he didn’t care. “You know, I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

Something very strange happened next: Kevin seemed to lift into the air of his own accord. His expression as his head came level with yours twisted with a shock that mirrored your own. A second later, he flew backward across the yard to land in a heap right beside the open gate.

“It is a pity, then, that you are so unworthy of the title,” Thor said as he materialized next to you.

Kevin quickly climbed to his feet while your boyfriend gave you a swift once over, as though to make sure no obvious harm had been done before making his edict. You weren’t anything more than rattled. Rattled seemed to be enough for Thor to come to a decision.

“You may leave now,” he said. “Do so, and I shall allow you to leave unscathed. If you choose not to, that would be unwise. I assure you that I will do much worse than call the appropriate authorities.”

“Is that a threat?” Kevin asked, smoothing his rumpled hair.

“It is a promise. Come, [Name]. Lunch is on the table.”

His attempt to steer you to the porch without body contact didn’t get either of you very far. You had only managed to loose your death grip on the rake handle when Kevin decided to make that unwise decision he’d been warned against:

“That baby,” he said, “is mine.”

Thor didn’t bother to turn toward him. “You are not the child’s father.”

“Oh, yeah? You get a paternity test?”

“There is no need.”

Footsteps issued from somewhere behind you: Kevin running up to Thor’s elbow. This got your boyfriend to stop, and you had to give Kevin credit for not cowering at the stony look upon Thor’s face. All he did instead was lift his hands up to his shoulders.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out, man. How are you supposed to raise a baby? The way [Name] told me, you’re gone almost all the time. Busy, you know. Up in New York. With Black Widow.”

A gentle crackle in the air told you that Kevin’s insinuations weren’t winning him any favors. Thor stood very, very still at your side, a sure sign that only his knowledge that summoning his hammer would break your house was stopping him from doing so.

“[Name], tell him,” Kevin said.

“What?” you gasped, disoriented by being drawn suddenly into the conversation once more.

“You didn’t tell him what really happened that night, did you? Go on. Tell him. He deserves to know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Tell him!”

Thor put an enormous arm between you and Kevin when the latter lurched at you. “I will not prevent [Name] from speaking to you if it is what she desires, but if you continue attempting to touch her, I will remove you from these premises myself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal!” Kevin insisted, but he inched toward you despite the obstacle. “[Name], don’t you think you ought to tell the truth?”

What truth? Everything that happened the night you’d seen Kevin, every little gory detail, had been described to Thor. You could not for the life of you grasp just what Kevin wanted now.

If you could not answer him, Thor would throw him bodily from the yard, and you were nearly desperate enough to let him. Unfortunately, Thor would not always be able to be so close by. Maybe Kevin would be—which meant that by the time the Avengers faced their next world ending crisis, you needed to be able to get rid of him on your own.

“I did tell him the truth, Kev. Every bit of it,” you said flatly.

Kevin looked at Thor. “Did she?”

“She told me you assaulted her, yes,” Thor growled.

Kevin’s blue eyes went wide. They darted from your face to Thor’s, and for the moment it seemed as though Kevin understood his position there clearly. One hand lifted to his thin lips. You didn’t exactly expect an apology from him by that point, but you also didn’t expect what did come out of his lips next:

“That’s what you came up with?” he asked incredulously, and doubled over with laughter.

You and Thor exchanged confused looks. His lasted only a moment before he returned to glowering darkly at the man in front of him.

“You believe any portion of this situation to be funny?” Thor demanded.

Kevin sobered just a little as the distant sound of thunder rolled across a sky dotted with fluffy clouds—but only just a little. He continued to smile. “Yeah. I do. Because I thought your people were supposed to be smarter than this.”

“Smarter than what?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Don’t they have women where you come from?”

“Either you will put an end to your riddles or you will be gone.”

“Fine! Fine!” The cold wind whipping through the yard must have got to him. Kevin plunged plunged his hand into his front pockets as he looked you right in the eyes. “When you were away, [Name] called me up and asked to come screw her. For old time’s sake.”

“What?” you gasped, horrified, but Thor did not permit you any time to worry he might believe your ex-boyfriend’s words. The clouds above your heads congealed into a dark morass through which forks of lightning flashed so often the thunder became nearly continuous.

Still Kevin did not put two and two together. “So she didn’t tell you that part, I’m guessing.”

“I came home,” Thor said in a low, guttural voice that grew in volume as he went on, “to find her beaten and bruised in the hospital!”

“Yeah? Wow, your sex must be real vanilla. [Name] likes it rough, or hasn’t she ever told you that? Oh, right. If you tried to give her what she wanted, you’d probably accidentally kill her.”

“Liar!” you shrieked.

Kevin took one step backward when you launched yourself at him, but he need not have bothered. Thor quickly caught you around the middle. His weight was an effective enough anchor that he required no strength to keep you from moving forward. You swiped your arms, hands clawed, in Kevin’s direction. No matter what direction you struggled, you could not reach him.

“[Name], be careful,” Thor said, though the coming storm still swirled around you.

“[Name], listen to your boyfriend,” Kevin chided you. “You keep that up, and you might hurt the baby.”

“As though you care about my baby!” you said.

“Not just your baby. Our baby. It’s half mine.”

Lightning slammed into the asphalt on the street just outside your yard as Thor’s grip on you tightened. “Whether or not you have some biological claim on the infant has no bearing on anything further you might have to do with it,” he said.

“Really. Is that so?” Kevin asked you.

Your energy had not returned in such great amounts you could fight against Thor’s arms for long. Luckily, spitting at Kevin’s feet didn’t take much energy at all. That ought to have been answer enough. Apparently not, because Kevin next did something very dangerous: He strode right up to you and placed his clammy hand against your cheek.

“This is a sign, [Name]. You’re supposed to be with me, not with this asshole. That baby is ours to raise togeth—”

Thor wrenched Kevin into the air by the front of his shirt, and this time he did not carefully toss him away. The former’s eyes had gone completely white with electricity; the wind howled, thrashing the new leaves on your tree; lightning crackled from Thor’s free palm.

“Be careful in how you choose your next words,” Thor said. “They may well be the last you ever speak.”

Kevin squirmed. “G-Go ahead, Big Man! I’ll have you arrested for assault if you try anything. What do you think about—oof!”

Hitting the ground hard brought Kevin no relief. Following his short declaration of pain came the distinct sound of shattering glass and a familiar whistling. Thor had summoned Mjolnir at last. An earth-rending blast of thunder issued from the hammer as it found its place in his hand.

“I would like to see you try. I doubt even the backwards courts of this Midgardian nation would find fault in my ridding its streets of scum like you. Leave this place! Now!” he barked suddenly.

No longer could Kevin play at courage. Rain as hard as bullets fell upon your trio, and this thunderstorm showed no signs of letting up. Thor also looked every bit the thunder god those fanzines always squealed about now that he held Mjolnir—or at least he did until your staggering ex-boyfriend slammed the gate behind him. After that, all the weather and all the electricity vanished at once. A calm spring day surrounded your home once more.

“Be warned,” Thor said, “should there be a next time, I will not be so merciful.”

Trembling, soaked through from head to toe, Kevin no longer cut the intimidating figure he had at the start of that afternoon’s altercation. You allowed Thor to turn you gently toward the house, take your hand, and begin once more to lead you toward the porch. So confident were you that Kevin could have nothing more to say that you didn’t bother looking back at him as you made your slow, sodden trek to the front steps—not until he called after you:

“This isn’t over!”

Lightning surged again into Mjolnir. Kevin stumbled backward with a yelp, but he was not to be deterred now that a barrier—even as flimsy a barrier as your picket fence—stood between himself and Thor. Moving away, he continued to talk:

“That baby is mine. Mine. I’m going to see it after it’s born, and I’m going to see you. You want to go to court? I’ll take you to court.”

“You really think—” you began hotly, but Kevin cut you off in a voice dripping with venom:

“There’s precedent. You’re going to regret today. Both of you are.”

Thor stepped forward, but Kevin was already sprinting up the street to wherever he had presumably hidden his car while he watched your yard. To pursue him, Thor would have had to leave you alone and unguarded, or waste precious time waiting for Hope or Scott to arrive to look after you. He chose not to do either. Instead, you both went wordlessly back into the house.

Unfortunately, you could no longer find it in yourself to eat. You knew the effort Thor had put into cooking your meal; you knew you ought to eat for your own good and the baby’s. No knowledge could overcome the anxiety coursing through your veins. The haunted look in Thor’s eyes—and his own refusal to pick up his plate—led you to believe that his thoughts were of the same nauseating nature as your own.

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 2 of 2

Part 1 is here:

She never knew it would hurt this much when the person she loves is right in front of her, but she can't reach out and touch him; when she is still her, he is still him, but everything else has changed, like an invisible lever in an old theatre changing the scenery in the background, bringing them both to the part of the play where they are hopelessly lost.

[[MORE]]

All it took was one single moment, one single decision, and everything feels irrevocably broken now. It makes her contemplate on the true nature of relationships, how fragile they are, and how easy it is to shatter them- and her.

The smoke is slowly clearing, and all that seems to be left is a man who is doing his best to keep his distance from her, physically and emotionally.

She can tell from the way he stands with his arms crossed, or his fists clenced when his hands are by his side, that he really doesn't want to hold her hand. How can something so simple as the touch of his fingers be so vital to her existence that it feels like something has been ripped out from inside her?

She wants to reach out and touch him, but she is scared that if he pulls away outright, any hope of reconciliation that she still has left will shatter into pieces.

And she really needs this hope. It's the only thing she still has left. It's the only thing that keeps her going.

---

He looks like a man with a mission.

They spent quite a long time together, running from the TVA, running towards the citadel at the end of time, hoping to achieve their goal of bringing down the one behind the curtains.

But that was her mission, and he was there for her. She was the one behind the wheels, he was the one keeping the sails afloat.

Now it's different. Now he has a defined goal, a glorious purpose.

She's seeing him in a whole new light now, and not just because he has switched to Asgardian leather and metal armors.

As far as she is concerned, she is better off doing it all alone. One woman army, nobody to get in her way, nobody to screw up her plans. Nobody to blame her if it all goes to shit.

Or so it was, until two months ago, when Mobius decided to enlist her help in fixing the multiversal madness.

She has never really worked with people before, and it's weird, to say the least. She never considered herself a team player, but she is finding herself hating the idea less and less lately.

And she swears it has nothing to do with him. Not the fact that they are working together, and seeing his face first thing in the morning brings her a sense of calm that she quite can't explain. Or the fact that their rooms are next to each other and it makes her feel secure enough to finally get some rest at nights. Or that this whole arrangement has kept them on talking terms, when they had gone their own separate ways otherwise.

Nothing to do with that at all.

---

Humans are stupid, and the biggest evidence of this is how they decided that two extremely powerful Gods skilled at magic, enchantment, and defeating an evil extra dimensional cloud that swallows everything it touches, should be delegated to the role of research. "You're clever. You're good at reading people. You can put yourselves in the shoes of the bad guys, no offense", they said, but really, what they meant was, "We can't trust you out in the field much." She knows it, he knows it. She just doesn't know why he's complying.

That's how they find themselves researching every single day.

She likes to think he's not the only reason why she's studying in the library instead of in the comfort of her room, but that'd be a lie.

At first, he chooses to sit at a separate table. But she keeps going over to his to "get his opinion" on something in the file she's reading, and finally, he gives in. Their current arrangement consists of him sitting in the chair in front of her, to the left, prim and proper, while she hoists her feet up on the table.

He falls asleep on the desk one night, face smacked against a file, the tiniest bit of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. It would be a hilarious sight, if her heart wasn't feeling what she can only describe as longing.

They should probably talk about it, like mature adults, but neither of them know how to do that.

All she can do right now is gather the courage to run her fingers through his hair. The touch is hesitant at first, as if one wrong move would make him wake up and push her back to square one. Slowly, she relaxes, letting her fingers dance on his scalp.

He stirs in his sleep. "Please Sif. I'm sorry. Don't cut off my glorious locks, please."

Now this is a story she must hear when things are better.

If things are better.

---

Doctor Strange joins them very briefly, very rarely, but the tension between him and Loki is hard to miss. It's worse than the current situation with her, and that's saying something.

"You don't really like Stephen, do you?"

Something inside him seems to shift, but he masks it behind a non-chalant look immediately and just arches an eyebrow at her. "He's Stephen now, is he?"

"Well, that is his name." She shrugs. "What do you call him?"

"Strange", he spits the word out with an amount of irritation that indicates there definitely is a story there. "That is his name", he mimics.

She can't help the smirk that spreads across her lips. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing", he lies, ignoring the horrifying flashbacks of thirty minutes of endless falling. Not a single soul must ever know a mere human got the best of him. "What can he do to me? I'm a God among those mortals. He just irks me because he is so pompous, and arrogant, and he ceaselessly uses magic to toy with others."

She pretends to think deeply. "Now where have I seen that before?"

He scoffs. "You mock me, but I am nothing like him. For one, I am not rude."

"He seems fine to me", she declares decisively.

It's the first time in months that he gives her a cheeky grin. "That's because you're rude too."

---

They are still just containing the threats to their world, instead of finding a way to fortify the barriers between worlds and stop the threats from coming.

"Shouldn't we have a plan to seal off the other worlds from ours?" She asks him one day.

"They are working on it." He tells her, and then with a look of worry, adds, "I hope."

There are debates on what to do at the Avengers tower and at the TVA. Nobody seems to agree on what the best course of action is, but everyone seems to be following the general instructions of Doctor Strange.

During one such meeting, a Minuteman makes the mistake of voicing out loud how she wondered if things would be better if they were running according to their old boss's plans.

Sylvie feels the guilt wash over her once more.

"No", Loki tells them all firmly. The determination in his voice takes her completely by surprise. "Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling, makes no difference. The degree is arbitrary. The definition’s blurred." She catches him steal a glance at her direction. "We couldn't have left a dictator in charge just because it's convenient. Listen, I'm the bad guy. I've done horrible, unspeakable things. I thought humans needed to be ruled. I wanted to rule. But even I know that it's not right to take away a person's life completely. These are innocent people. You are innocent people. You have families back home, parents, children", a pause and a softening of his features, "-love. A whole past, a whole future. That man had no right to take it away from you."

His powers of persuasion are foreign to her, and it's mesmerizing to watch. Her enchantments cannot hold a candle to how he is able to just talk people into doing what he wants, thinking what he thinks, seeing what he sees.

"He who remains had a plan. One, singular plan, from one, singular man." There is absolute conviction in his voice. "It's not the only way. We'll find another way. A better way."

She has never known what it is like to have someone see you for who you are- broken and flawed, and defend you- even your well-intentioned actions that yielded different results than what you expected and hurt them in the process. She suspects it has been the same for him, a lifetime of not having anyone have his back.

The warm feeling inside her is brand new. What is the name of this? Comfort? Relief?

Happiness?

---

This will be their first time out in the field in a long time, and she feels a little sick to the stomach.

He notices. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his voice tugs at her heartstrings. She nods. She has faced way worse, she shouldn't be so nervous about this, but she is. "I've never done this before."

"We can always just kill him and blame it on the Chitauris", he suggests with a serious face.

"I heard that", Peter yells from the other room, where he is doing whatever it is that teenagers do to prepare for battle.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe we're babysitting."

"I've done this before", he assures her, and it surprises her to picture him being entrusted with such a serious task. "The trick is to conjure up illusions that keep them distracted enough to not cry."

She laughs. "You're thinking of infants. This one is a little older."

"I'm over a thousand years old, Sylvie. They're all infants to me."

Peter joins them, mask covering his face so that he doesn't reveal his identity. "So what do I call you? Loki and Loki? That's confusing. How about Loki and Lady Loki? Or is that offensive? I'm not suggesting women are inferior, because they're absolutely not..."

"Does he come with an off switch?" She whispers in horror as Peter rambles on.

Loki grins. With one wave of his hand and a flash of green, Peter's own webbing shoots out and seals his mouth shut.

---

Things are fine but not fine at the same time. He's right there beside her, but not there at all. They have their banters, they have their stolen glances, but they haven't had a meaningful conversation since that first day when she got back. She's been putting it off for a long time, but she knows they really do need to have the talk.

She corners him in his room one evening while he's tinkering with a temporal collar. She takes a seat in the chair next to his bed and rests her hand on the table, leaning her head against her palm, before switching position and crossing her arms and legs. Everything about her posture screams uneasiness. If he notices- he probably does- he doesn't say anything.

"You defended me that day."

He briefly looks up from the task at hand and gives her a soft smile. "Of course."

She blinks. "I don't understand." Her hands involuntary rise up to rub her temples. "If you can justify my actions to them, then how can you still be mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you", he says without missing a beat.

"Rubbish", her words come out angrier than she intended. This frustration is the result of the months of status quo they have had. She has to know now, one way or the other. "You're distant. You're guarded", she accuses. Then her voice breaks, as she feels a part of her break all over again with her next words. "You don't hold my hand. Why? Tell me."

He abandons the collar and focuses his full attention on her. Staring straight into her eyes, he answers her. "You know why."

"I wouldn't be asking if I did. Look, if it's because I chose the mission over you-"

"-Of course it's not that." He says decisively. Then a sad smile clouds his face. It's the same look he had when she accused him of conning her to gain the throne. "Do you think I'm the type of man who would want a woman to abandon her life-long ambitions just because she has met someone?"

She knows he isn't. But it still doesn't answer why he is so cross with her. "What is it then?"

He pauses for a moment, trying to decide whether he wants to bare his soul out to her once more or not. There are two ways he can go from here- choose to not let her in again and save himself from the hurt, or trust her again and open himself up to potential pain.

Who is he kidding? Pushing her away- keeping her away- doesn't hurt any less.

There were a thousand things that had to go wrong to bring two Lokis from two universes together. A connection like that, it doesn't just happen.

And it doesn't just go away. The pain is constant, it's a part of him, pounding like a second heart every second he has to stop himself from reaching out for her hand.

This has to come to an end.

He takes in a deep breath, bracing himself. "You didn't have to send me away, Sylvie. I wanted to stop you from making the same mistakes I did. But in the end, I didn't care what you chose. I just wanted us to do it together."

She never even imagined this could be the reason for his hurt. All these months spent thinking he hates her for her choices, and now it turns out he is hurt simply because she chose to do it alone? "I'm sorry." She says sincerely. "I just wanted you to be safe."

"And I just wanted to be there with you till the end." He confesses. His eyes shimmer with the emotions he has kept bottled in for so long. "You go, I go."

She doesn't know what to say to that. She has never been good at articulating her feelings. Tears stream down her cheeks at the realisation that even after everything, he is still there for her.

She didn't cry even back at Lamentis when they thought they were going to die. She doesn't let anyone see her cry when she is sad or scared. That's all she has known her whole life. She's used to it by now.

This is new. These are tears of relief. Comfort.

Happiness.

Tentatively, she crosses over to the bed and sits by his side.

It's quiet for a few minutes. But unlike the months of tension so thick she could cut it into splices with her daggers, this is comfortable silence. The kind they had before it all went wrong.

"Did you even miss me?" He whispers.

"What kind of silly question is that? Of course I did." Her shaking hands grab his, and oh how she missed this.

He intertwines their fingers. His eyes draw closed. Bliss. That's the only word for this feeling.

He opens his eyes again and studies her. She's staring back at him, teary-eyed, but with a hopeful smile. "Really? Because you have a really unique way of showing it. You didn't even come looking for me."

"I didn't know how to face you", she tells him honestly. No tricks, no enchantment, no treachery. Not with him. "I didn't know if you even wanted to see me." Her voice grows quieter, dropping to a timbre that perfectly encapsulates her deepest fear. "I thought you hated me."

"Hate you?" He is shocked that she thinks that is even possible, specially after seeing him these last few months. "Sylvie, I'm working with the Avengers. The Avengers. Do you know how much I hate them? They are my nemesis. They're self-righteous, condescending, and so completely dull. Every second with them makes me want to rip their hearts out. Why do you think I'm here with them?"

She thinks she knows. But she needs to hear it anyway.

"It's because of you." He lays it all out on the table. All cards on deck, win or lose. "You've been running away. I have been the one who has been here, trying to hold down the fort, working to fix everything. Because that is what one does when one loves-"

Shit. The word slips out before he realises it.

Their eyes go wide in unison.

"Sylvie, I-"

"-Don't you dare take it back now." She warns him. "I-" She doesn't know how to say it either. They make such a great pair, both equally daft at saying how they feel, like they are teenagers, not Gods who have lived for centuries. "I've been running because I didn't think I could bear the burden of knowing I found you and then I lost you. I don't want to lose you. Not now, not ever."

He kisses the back of her hand, before letting it go. He cups her face, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "I don't want to lose you either."

She leans in closer, until their foreheads touch. She can feel his breath on her face, warm and soft. That is exactly how she feels inside. "You won't", she promises. "You go, I go."

---

(Quote on Lesser Evil from The Witcher. Thanks for reading!!)

[marshmallowprotection]

Birthday Title Screen

Saeran’s title screen underneath the cut alongside my thoughts and feelings on the matter. Under the cut simply because if you don’t want to see it, you can go and wait until it’s officially released by Cheritz in your time zone. Anyways, we know why we’re here.

It’s that time again and boy, aren’t we happy to be able to talk about it? Now, this title was advertised as Unknown so I expected Unknown. I didn’t expect my boy Suit Saeran to be on the title. The game tends to imply that Unknown is the just Suit Saeran, and vice versa, but I don’t agree with that notion but I’ve explained that one many times before but the game never confirms outright one way or the other so, you know how that goes. 

I’ll spare you that, I’ve got plenty of posts talking about that opinion for you to find if you want, lol. 

Either way, this is the first time that Suit Saeran’s gotten the pointed limelight like this. He’s usually meant to surprise the player because they may not see him in their minds as their trying to uncover the mystery and everything. But, we’ve got to say, Cheritz has thrown all spoiler fears out of the window. I mean, they just plastered Seven’s true name on a boat. 

I laughed about that but I digress, you’re here for the photo and you want to see me shriek like a banshee.

So, yeah, let’s just our obligatory scream out of the way presently. When I saw this one, I could think was: Oh my God, it’s BE2. The only reason my brain just decided BE2 was because of the framing of all the presents. In that ending, he gives you gifts, he gives you food, but “you’re not good enough to open them or touch them, toy.” He’ll give you all kinds of things but you know, you get what he wants when he decides. 

And crumbs, if you’re lucky on a good day, you know? 

That being said, it doesn’t have to be framed as BE2, but the presents and gifts just lead me to believe that this is the theme or the idea that it’s taking from to show the audience because what else am I going to be thinking when you’ve gone and thrust that idea into my face like that? Mmm, and I’ve been talking about that ending a lot lately. 

Here’s that post if you want to read more about BE2. It’s a tragic ending that is bad for both Saeran and MC. He’s trying to get you back like Humpty Dumpty but he can’t put you back together again. He realized too little, too late, that he liked you the way that Ray did, that he genuinely liked you for you. He can’t say that aloud, so he... tries cruel ways to bring you back, but it will never work and he’s doomed to despair. 

No hope for Suit Saeran if the kindness heart can be destroyed in hell. It means it’s only natural that he lose everything. 

I appreciate that he’s sticking to his goth theme, though, that party hat is just red and black.

Suit Saeran’s very... minimalist in the sense that he just picks things that are truly intense and sharp. That’s why he wears a suit. That’s because it’s the thing that he knows that can radiate power. Business men are supposed to be strong and forthcoming with their ability, that’s why he leans that way. 

His father is like that, the idea of what power and monster is feeds into how he chooses to dress himself. 

That’s why he just says, “Suit time.” If anyone was curious about that, anyway, I never seen people talk about that. Ray was given his clothes by Rika, he never got a say in how he dressed. The boys always pick something dark because it’s going to match their mood... their mood is how they pick colors and clothes if given the ability. 

That’s why GE Saeran is bright and cottagecore. It reflects the positive shift in his thoughts and perspective on the world. But, with Suit Saeran, he’s trying to emulate what he’s scared of and what he thinks that power is and this is the only way he knows how and it hurts to think about when you frame it that way, I do know that. 

Is that meant to be a stamp and playbook? Did Suit Saeran really make a whole illustrated guide for his puppet show? Is he really making acts and stories for all of this? He had to make those puppets himself. We know that Saeran is creative and can make anything, but those things are clearly handmade, hand-painted, I have a strong feeling that he made those clothes himself, too... 

You know, I like to imagine him drawing his emojis before he comes to you because he wants to make a good impression, but he’s a very specific artist and he gets angry when he can’t get things right, so I’m really thinking about him being out here in his workroom, painting fine details with a determined look in his eyes like—

“This’ll show that toy. This’ll show them how powerful I am.” 

Suit Saeran, honey, this is a gift within itself, you are a dork and I love you so much, oh my God.

TLDR; Suit Saeran makes puppets and makes their own playbook like this is going to a musical or the opera. 

He actually brought you the exact outfit. This means that he either made you that outfit, or he got himself, and then he made a smaller version. 

I like to think he’s crafty with sewing so I pretend he does things like this, but honestly, if you’ve made it this far, are you also thinking about the fact that he made a doll versions of the both of you to show you something? 

Because I can’t stop thinking about that. He really said, “Look at this, I made us, toy!” Like, I wrote a whole imagine once where MC and GE Saeran made each other plush dolls of the other person to sleep with. He just went out here and made puppets simply because he wanted to put on a show. He made y’all and I’m gonna cry what a fucking dork.

This is canon.

My God, I’m canon. 

Once again, I’m out here living my best life and nobody’s going to stop me on that front. Saeran wants to impress you and astound you so badly that he does not even realize that the handmade things that he’s making actually would be something that flatter someone. 

Like, he could use those to patronize me and berate me for control, but—

I’d really be sitting there compliment his fine eye and craftsmanship. It’s just that great. 

“Wow, Saeran. You did this all by yourself? These details are so realistic and finely tuned. This must have taken you hours... no, days, it must have taken you days to paint everything and stitch all of this together, even the little fine details are perfect. You’re amazing! When did you have the time to learn all of this?” 

He would scoff, “Of course, I am, you blubbering toy! Don’t suck up to me and think that you’re going to be treated nicely. I won’t tell you anything about me. You don’t deserve that. I didn’t do this to impress you, I did this to show you what I want from you. Now, be a good little toy, sit there, and do as I ask. I won’t repeat myself.” 

I find it interesting that he framed himself in the Savior’s seat here. Is that just a tie back to BE3, or is it simply his power play? I think it’s a comment on the fact that he struggles to know how much power that he truly has in his hands. That is to say, he says he’s the strongest, but the reality is, Rika is stronger then him and he bows his head to her. 

Even in his fantasy, she holds all of the cards and he has no choice but to bend.

But, with MC, he is trying to use them to control his idea of power... because it’s a fragile thing. It could break at any second. He screams and shouts all that he wants but he knows, deep down, he may be strong, but he’s not the strongest in this place. How could he be? That’s why Rika even says to you during those late hours—

“Mmm, you noticed? He’s using you to stabilize himself because otherwise, he would crumble. Thanks for your sacrifice to helping me win my goals. It wasn’t a pleasure knowing someone as bright as you, getting in my way and trying to turn them against me.” 

He only feels strong when something placates the idea in his chest. It hurts, even in his numb and confused heart, he’s hurting and he can’t figure out a way to get out of the dark labyrinth. Did he make the Mint Eye playhouse? Did he? I am saying he did. None of you are going to stop me. Saeran is a creative artist and I will not be contained any longer.

Cheritz confirmed. 

You’re a doll on a string in this for him. He wants to say that he bends and controls you to his whims, but... he’s also there. This isn’t just you being a toy, it’s Saeran realizing that he’s a toy, too. Why else would he make a doll of his person, then? This is about him not entirely getting it, though. He would make himself but not realize what he’s implying to know deep down, underneath all of his yelling.

When I saw him in the chair, I thought... this is him in relation to being the marionette king. That’s why they’re doing this, oh my God. It makes sense to frame the MC as a puppet or toy, they’re always “his eyes” and “his toy” and more and more and more. But, he’s also being played for a toy by Rika to get what she wants.

Who is really the puppet here?

Who is really on the strings? 

Look at that cocky bastard. Look at him. Look at him forever and deal with me screaming about him, oh my God. In conclusion, I’m having a lot of feelings at the moment presently and I think I’m going to go and lay back down because I am going to need a minute to unpack everything that I’m feeling and dealing with because Suit Saeran.

SUIT SAERAN!

[kittydemon9000]

Alright so I know Literally Nobody asked for this but the idea of leaguers having differnt armor types, speeds, and strengths is so fascinating to me so here’s an entire post about my headcanons about it, staring the Main 7 since they’re the ones we see most and have the most evidence for. 

Also, please keep in mind that this is completely made based on memory alone and it’s been a bit since I last saw the show. If I missed something or remembered something wrong feel free to correct me or add your own thoughts.

Also also, I made a chart (the chart is based on the strongest for the leaguer, not out of all of them, ex: Top Joy’s strongest is different from GZ’s strongest)

First off, the leader of Silver Castle himself, Magnum Ace, a Baseball Leaguer. Right off the bat(hah puns) I immediately knew his arms would be the strongest points. He seems to have been created with him being a pitcher in mind and his 44 Sonic has clearly been shown to posses a lot of power which he would need the strength to handle. There’s also how he was shown to be a decent hitter in Gold Arm’s flashback, sending every ball into the outfield. As for his weakest points, they were also pretty easy. The joints are a bit of a constant with all of the leaguers I showed, but the fins are because they seem to be rather thin and probably can’t hold up very well under pressure. There’s also the shoulder joints, which I wasn’t able to put on the diagram, since as shown during the end of the series, if Magnum repeatedly pitches his 44 Sonic without rest the stress on his shoulders start to cause them to break down, to the point where he was forced to sit out for the next few days for repairs. Speed wise Magnum is nothing special and in my eyes pretty average amongst the team.

Next up, we have Mach Windy, a Soccer Leaguer. Similar to Magnum, I knew almost immediately his strongest point would be his legs since, y’know, soccer. Everything(physical) we see coming from Windy is almost always centered around his leg strength and speed. This is outright said when Silver Castle is resting after some baseball training and Magnum tells Windy(I shit you not) “We believe in your leg.” There’s also his Mach Spin which depends entirely on his ability to kick to ball at an extremely high speed. There’s also a scene when trying to help Gold Foot during the Forced Retirement Arc where his kicks a ball of solid rock without any issues. The scene also brings me to why his head is a strong point. Heading is also something Windy has been shown to be able to do, and referencing the Forced Retirement Arc again where he head butts the aforementioned ball of rock. For speed, as mentioned before, when it comes to running Windy seems to be the fastest amongst Silver Castle. The weakness I feel is pretty self explanatory since soccer doesn’t really require use of your arms unless you’re a goalie. There’s also how in the Jet Setter episode Bull sees Windy loose an arm wrestle almost immediatly with Ryuuken, but that might just be since Ryuuken is ridiculously powerful. As for durability, he seems to be not very strong, instead having lighter armor for more speed.

Speaking of Ryuuken, let’s talk about the Karate Leaguer. As you can see, his strongest part is his armor, aka almost all of him. As a karate leaguer, Ryuuken was probably created with the intent of being able to take a lot of hits. There’s also the running joke of a member of another team attacking him with all their power and him not budging and saying something along the lines of “I feel nothing.” Strength wise, we get a taste of his crazy power is during his first spotlight episode where he was practicing kicking with Windy, to which he accidentally broke the stone wall surrounding the field. He then unlocks more of his power when rescuing Ruri from the factory, but we don’t see his real power until the Forced Retirment arc. There we got to see when going to rescue Magnum, Windy, and the Gold Bros how he opened a literal chasm into the ground with a single punch, though I can’t remember if it was rock, metal, or both, but that’s still pretty impressive, and that was before he unlocked his Heart Kit in the Death Football Arc which only increased his power. And then during the OVA when the Fighter Brothers try to fight Windy’s new team and they use their pitch, a pitch that nobody had been able to hit before, Ryuuken straight up punches it with seemingly no backlash and getting a home run all because they made him mad.….maybe it’s a good thing Ryuuken is so innocent and calm. Speed wise, Ryuuken seems to be on the slower side of the team, however I do think Ryuuken(alongside Juurouta) would have the best reflexes. This one is completely headcanon and I don’t have much proof, it just makes sense to me.

Next up, we have Bull Armor, a Football Leaguer. His armor and helmet are easily his strongest parts, for mostly obvious reasons. Multiple times throughout the series he is seen tanking blows that would normally knock another leaguer to the ground, most notably when he’s Silver Castle’s goalkeeper in soccer and catcher in baseball. However, his durability seems to be different from Ryuuken’s since he is still moved by the attacks but can bounce back from more. His durability seems to be pretty tied to his strength too since he is one of the only leaguers who has been shown to catch Magnum’s 44 Sonic. There’s also how when he was first introduced he stopped and lifted a truck much larger than himself with relative ease in order to stop it from hitting a young boy. His speed however is admittedly a bit harder to figure out. He seems to be much larger and heavier, however as shown when he lost control in his past he still has the ability to charge down opponents at a speed in which they can’t properly evade, though it’s up for debate whether they were trying to properly evade or trying to reason with him.

Juurouta, a Kendo Leaguer, is next. His durability is more basic compared to the others, mostly focusing around his Armor Armor(no that was not a typo). Said Armor Armor also seems to be protecting the joints which may or may not be intentional, but I’m going with it. His fins share the same logic with Magnum, as do his joints with everyone else. His strength mostly seems to be localized in his arms, which makes sense since he is a kendo leaguer. His strength was first shown in comparison to the others when he was the first person to hit Gold Arm’s Genocide Screw with a hit(discounting Bull since he technically kicked it). There’s also how in the Arctic he was able to cut down the  blizzard machine, however that spent all his energy. Speed wise I think he’s in a similar i boat to Ryuuken: slow overall, but incredible reflexes.

Now, Top Joy, a Basketball Leaguer, was a fun one to do for no reason more than I like the character. Strength wise, nothing very impressive, he show much. Durability though….it’s not the best. The only points that seemed to be able to hold up were his arms(sort of) and feet, and they’re less based on actual proof and more on logical thinking but I digress. Hand and arms because he’ll need to be able to catch balls thrown his way, but they’re still relatively weak compared to other members of Silver Castle. I highlighted his feet because they would probably be needed to make they don’t break once Top Joy lands after jumping high. If they were weak the repeated slamming into the ground would cause them to break and then Top Joy(and any other basketball leaguer) would be relatively stuck. But where I think Top Joy shines is his speed and maneuverability. As he has demonstrated many times throughout baseball and soccer games alike, his spring legs can be used in a variety of situations, from avoiding attacking players to catching balls that would normally be too far out of reach. And there’s also the possibility of using the force from the spring to propel himself faster when running, thought it’s unclear if he does this already. However, they are not without weakness. As shown in the episode with Gebara, they are easily damaged when seemingly a single coil is damaged and prevents him from walking without assistance from his teammates. There’s also his recording equipment and speakers which, while functional, seem like they would also be damaged rather easily since as someone who has worked with recording/video equipment, I am all too aware of how fragile it can be. Also another note, Top Joy also seems to have an incredibly high pain tolerance. When the members of Section X give him a warning shock with the shock circuit, he pleads with them and says how he “doesn’t like punishment,” implying this has happened before. There’s also his questionable relationship with his past team and much later in the Death Football Arc when he flat out says “I’m used to pain,” which in concerning to say the least.

And finally, last but most certainly not least, we have GZ, a Hockey Leaguer. Similar to Ryuuken, GZ has been shown to be incredibly powerful and being able to take a lot. There are three times where his power is shown. First is barely a day after he joins their team when he defends his teammates from attacks that would normally knock them off their feet(sans Ryuuken). The second time is when he’s babysitting the kids and survives an avalanche that took out another group of hockey(?) leaguers with barely a scratch. And then in the OVA where he’s able to deflect almost all of Garret’s dive bomb attacks without took much trouble. This is undoubtedly a combination of some hockey leaguers being incredibly defensive(like Thunderbolt) and his reformatting which led him to be a mercenary. We don’t seem too much from GZ in terms of strength, so I’m going to say he’s just a little weaker than Magnum. Speed though, that one was a bit hard to figure out. Main because of his boosters. His boosters give him an enormous speed boost, fast enough to get ahead of Garret who was literally flying and dive bombing, and on the ice without as much friction it only increases his speed. However, the few times we see him running, he seems to be slower than the other Silver Castle members, likely because of his weight and how he was meant for ice, not land. 

TL:DR, From most to least

Durability: GZ, Ryuuken, Bull Armor, Juurouta, Magnum, Windy, Top Joy

Strength: Ryuuken, Bull Armor, Juurouta, Magnum, GZ, Top Joy, Windy

Speed: GZ(with boosters/on ice), Windy, Top Joy, Magnum, Bull Armor, Ryuuken, Juurouta, GZ(running), but Juurouta and Ryuuken have the best reflexes

[aeonghaseyo]

Under the Streetlight - Alexandra Trese x Reader

Song fic based on the song “Mixtape: OH” by Stray Kids

A/N: It’s actually my first time writing a song fic, and one using the English translation of a K-pop song I love so much. Please stream Mixtape: OH in Youtube! Btw, I tried my best for the reader to be of any gender haha

T/W: imagery of blood

-----

You were just a college student in Manila, trying to get by this one year in your program that seemed as if it was out to kill you. Why not though, with all the shit ton of schoolwork you had to do as well as org work you willingly volunteered to do? 

As you waited by a jeepney stop by a streetlight that might as well have been like a spotlight hovering upon you, you pondered upon a lot of things in your head and stopped to make a note to yourself. 

‘Note to self: I should really work on saying no once in a while. If I say yes to so much work during this sem I might be dead faster than I think.’

Even making this note to yourself made you feel stressed all the more, with your body automatically fidgeting, and you, conscious enough of your own habits when faced with stress and anxiety, tried your best to fend it off either by forcing yourself to stay still or by letting your thoughts wander to more exciting scenarios.

One scenario in mind played: you on your knees under that same streetlight, with a woman clad in a black coat wielding a curved blade that seemed to gleam its own light even in the darkness. This undaunted, short-haired lady in a defensive stance, aiming to keep you from being kidnapped by the aswang in your area that would risk even the secrecy of their existence in the estero’s out of hunger they never bothered to control. Your entrails would have been their main course, and your soul their dessert, until the infamous Alexandra Trese came to your rescue within a split-second, not even giving you time to scream out loud for help.

As there were only two of the aswang who were going to salvage you to satisfy their hunger pangs, it only took mere moments for Alexandra to take them both down without a drop of blood on you. Even while she was splashed with blood, you looked upon her in awe and admiration. 

The mere thought of her figure post-rampage painted your cheeks red, as you also recalled the memory of her holding out a hand to you to help you up. The fear brought about by that near-death-by-aswang experience really made you literally weak on your knees, so at first you struggled to stand up right after you shakily gripped her hand.

When I get my hands on you

When I set my eyes on you

I get breathless and I’ve never felt this way before

I can’t explain this

It feels so different

So I want it more

No doubt, something coursed through you back then that made you gain just a little bit of strength to momentarily stand on your own two feet. You had that strength, alright, but you didn’t look it with the paleness of your face giving your state of weakness away to the woman in front of you.

“You’re safe now, you don’t have to be scared,” you heard Alexandra reassure you, and once again your knees were jelly.

So you stumbled. 

Blessed by her swift reflexes, your savior caught you effortlessly, and you couldn’t help but hold on to her arms and look into her unwavering black orbs. Another moment passed as she helped you back on your own two feet, her hands still on your shoulders as if to give you a sense of security amidst a relatively dangerous area.

You muttered an “I-i’m so sorry, ma’am,” to which the babaylan-mandirigma corrected you, “Call me Alex. You don’t look well enough to commute, and the streets are especially dangerous at this time of night. Let me take you home.”

I just want to whine

I’ll stop being calculative

I want you to notice how I am feeling

As if you would notice that I was lying

I don’t want to just be around you like the scent

She saved your ass from being a part of the aswang’s menu, and you thought that was just the bare minimum you deserved at that moment. You clearly didn’t expect her to help you up while you were definitely still weak on your knees, and you didn’t expect her to suddenly take you home.

So your mind momentarily went blank. 

Just like a PC that has been restarted, you began processing Alexandra’s offer to take you back home, and your feel yourself getting conflicted between letting her take you home for you to finally let another person help you from the ordeal you had sustained, or refusing her help just so you could prove you can still handle your own. 

But you were left with no choice as Alexandra said, “I insist. You’re much safer with me.”

With one speechless nod from you, she led you to the car where her two bodyguards were waiting and helped you settle at the back of the car, where she usually took her place.

I thought I knew

I was so confident that I knew everything

But I didn’t know, with you

As I get close to you, it gets more complicated

Even when I have something to say, my head goes blank

At the end of the day, I’m saying just meaningless words

“Another rampage, bossing?” one of the bodyguards, who was driving the black Sedan you were in, asked. “Those aswang sure are relentless.”

“At least you didn’t need to call us for help though,” remarked the other bodyguard, who looked like he was the twin of the man who spoke earlier. 

Right beside you, Alexandra let out a sigh for self-relief and responded, “Those aswang were easy prey. They were reckless enough to just corner a helpless passerby out in the night without any calculated plan of attack.”

The long-haired man at the wheel then replied, “Too hungry to even think, eh? ‘Yan tuloy.”

You paid no mind to the rest of the conversation between Alexandra and her bodyguards, instead finding yourself thinking about how secure you felt as the babaylan-mandirigma helped you up on your feet earlier under that streetlight. To you, her expression was nonchalantly serious, with a slight hint of concern that never escaped your perception. 

That concern never appeared for your eyes to see, but you felt it. It was there. Just for you, at that very moment after she saved you.

The train of thought halted to a stop in your head as Alexandra finally turned to you and said, “I never got your name. Do you want to tell me what it is?”

Turning to her with an expression akin to that of a child talking to their first crush, you stuttered, “I-it’s (Y/N). T-thanks again, for s-saving me back there, I t-thought I was gonna be a goner!”

Her eyes never leaving your form, she then replied, “It was a relief that I got to you before those monsters did.”

“Serves me right for waiting for a jeepney at an area without people, huh?” you remarked with a nervous chuckle, as a sign that you’ve finally found your keenness in freely attempting a conversation with Alexandra Trese, of all people. 

You thought she would reply to what you would refer to as a careless remark, but it seemed that you were wrong as one of the twin bodyguards replied to you instead.

“You were easy bait for those aswang, but no worries. Bossing got to you just in time.”

When I hold your hand

I feel like being a baby again

And I go whining and saying, “Don’t look at me like that”

I look you in the eye and take one step closer to you

No matter how much I plan and prepare

When I’m with you, I’m just a baby

Finally arriving at your place, Alexandra ordered her bodyguards to wait for her by the Sedan and turned to walk you to the front entrance. Out of gratitude, you finally mustered to thank your savior once again, which she answered with a nod and her replying, “Take care of yourself next time,” before she finally turned to where her vehicle was parked. 

You felt your heart sink then as she walked to the car by herself. What has gotten into you? She just saved you from an aswang attack, as is her duty as the mediator between humanity and the creatures of the underworld, and she probably doesn’t have the luxury of time to be the subject of anyone’s interest or courtship. So what was the matter? Why were you feeling as if you wanted, scratch that, needed to see her again?

Countless times before, you swore to yourself that you were the type of person not to fall for just anyone, regardless of how extraordinary they seem, regardless of whether they stood out in your eyes or not, out of fear of this weakness being exploited anyway and you being set up for disappointment in the long run. No, you would never let fragility get the best of you just because someone outright snagged you from a close call of an aswang attack.

Regardless of your distaste for showing weakness, that beating heart of yours nagged at you to call out her name and spend a few more seconds with her anyway.

Driven by your own resounding heartbeat, you called out to her while race-walking towards her, “Alex!”

Ey (I’m a)

Can I call you baby?

Ey (I’m a)

In front of love, I’m just a baby

Just like that, you got her phone number, along with a reminder from her to call her when you need help with anything out of the ordinary, which is pretty much another way of referring to supernatural occurrences or anything involving the supernatural realm. 

Under that same spotlight by the jeepney stop at night, still alone, you exited to your phone’s main menu and find your thumb almost grazing the contacts icon at the bottom of your screen. You pressed on that Contacts icon and found Alexandra Trese’s name right under the “A” list in your contacts, underneath a bunch of registered numbers without any proper names to them. With longing, you stared at that name along with her number.

‘I have your number, Alex. Can I call you anytime then, even when I’m not in trouble?’

I know I shouldn’t whine about it

I know it well that you’re everything in my mind

My heart wants you

I want your love

This feeling is so toxic

You’re the only antidote

“Fancy seeing you here again, (Y/N).”

The heart that was already fluttering in your chest skipped a beat upon hearing that familiar voice. Quickly, you turned to the owner of that special voice right beside you, belonging to none other than the person who has been plaguing your thoughts since that fateful night. As if by instinct, you smiled lightly and greeted her, “It’s good to see you again here, Alex. What brings you here tonight?”

I’m sure about my feelings but I can’t control them

The way I talk to you, treat you, and behave towards you

Is so immature

Mature person, Mature love

Mature man, I thought it would be easy

Everything is difficult in front of you

Alexandra filled you in on her agenda for tonight, “I was wondering if there was going to be something unusual happening tonight that concerned the aswang clans that have gone out of control. Strangely, nothing has been happening in this particular street, unlike the last time I saw you here.”

Your (e/c) orbs gone soft, you looked upon her as you replied with a chuckle, “And then you found me instead.”

Her own eyes slightly widened, the woman before you cleared her throat and answered, “Yes I did. And I’m relieved to know you’re safe tonight.”

Time passed, and the silence between you and Alexandra remained as she stayed vigilant and prepared for a possible aswang attack that could happen right where the two of you were standing right now. Worried, you checked the digital clock on your phone once again, which read, “11:43 PM.” Upon being aware that it was actually past your bedtime, your features manifested a look of both worry and frustration, and Alexandra seemed to have noticed it herself.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

“I am, it’s just,” you let out a tiny whimper as you continued, “it’s past my bedtime already, I had to stay behind in school to help out with an org activity the day after, and I haven’t even studied for my exam tomorrow. I hate it when I can’t ride a jeepney right away going home.”

Hold your horses. Did you just rant to Alexandra Trese about your current predicament?

What should I do?

Am I under the illusion?

Will this end easily?

(Oh na na na na what should I do)

Closer (Oh na na na na what should I do)

I want to come to you and get to you

Out of embarrassment from the complaint you just uttered to the person who once saved you from the aswang, the person who brought you home out of kindness, the person you have admired for a long time but never had the chance to tell out of fear of rejection and quite possibly your own consideration for her duties to both the human and otherworldly realms, warm blood rushed to your cheeks and you covered your face as you apologized, “Sorry Alex, I didn’t mean to bother you about my own personal troubles. I can handle it by myself, I promise.”

A hand on your shoulder finally prompted you to look right at her, your head finally unobscured by the hands which formerly shrouded the remains of your embarrassed demeanor.

“Want me to take you home again, (Y/N)?”

This was your one chance to be with this one hell of a woman yet again, like the last time you both were under that same streetlight by the jeepney stop.

What made the current circumstance different from before was that you were not afraid to accept her offer this time. You were hell-bent on getting Alexandra to remember you as much as you continued to remember her and savor that special memory with her.

(Baby)

(I want to come to you and get to you)

No matter how much I plan and prepare

When I’m with you, I’m just a

With an unexplained expression driven by a growing fondness for the babaylan-mandirigma before you, you finally replied to her, “Of course Alex. Thanks again, I appreciate it so much.”

Alexandra then took you by the hand and led her to where that same black Sedan was parked. Cherishing the warmth of her hand, you slightly tightened your hold as if to say, ‘I love holding your hand, and I don’t plan on letting it go anytime.’

I look you in the eye and take one step closer to you

No matter how much I plan and prepare

When I’m with you, I’m just a baby

Ey (I’m a)

Can I call you baby?

Ey (I’m a)

In front of love

I’m just a baby

[nanakah]

about Ishigami, his growth and Miko's role

most people, myself included, thought at some point that Tsubame's rejection (or acceptance) could wrap up Ishigami's arc and even his past's flashbacks neatly, but Osaragi's arc suddenly revealing there was more to his relationship with Miko made me reflect more and think nah...if anything we're halfway there. It also showed glimpses of him already struggling to find his place in the world by quitting his clubs, even though he was successful at them and there was no Ootomo incident yet to undermine his self-image.

It seemed odd that despite everything he went through he still has his "hair=shield/averting eyes" theme going strong, but it makes sense if you consider even though Tsubame helped him see the way to be more accepting of people and cleared his name, his self-esteem still is super low. I spoke of this in my "sutera" meta, but to Ishigami, his life still has been a sucession of failures and almosts. At his core, he still hasn't fully opened up to people or learned to use his vulnerabilities to his advantage.

If I have grabbed your interest thus far, keep reading for more considerations!

Tsubame is kind to anyone and attempted to do good for him, but ultimately he was never fully himself around her, nor she tried/he alllowed her reaching out to the deepest parts of his insecurities. She doesn't show her own flaws to him either and to this day we get the feeling we don't know her well, just the best parts that Ishigami wanted to see. Kaguya, Miyuki and Chika contribute a lot in a sibling-like way, but there's a limit to how much Kaguya in particular can inspire him. Miko however, has scratched a little beneath the surface and has expressed an interest in helping him with that, even if he himself is still avoiding the topic. She's also more relatable to him in the sense that the rest of the stuco has a history of successes in their lives, while he was able to watch Miko's hardships and failures closely. Their panic attacks even look similar and they're always watching the other to provide backup (in a very roundabout way, at least before) when they happen.

While their personalities are fundamentally different, his arc and struggles remind me a lot of Miyamura from Horimiya and today, as I was musing on what is so different about them as of now, I believe it's how Miyamura didn't have a single *traumatic* mistake to get over, so he goes down his development road much faster. Putting it another way, it's ultimately that Ishigami hasn't yet learned to be kind to himself like Miyamura has through Hori. Like Shirogane and Kaguya are through themselves. In Miyamura's case, sympathizing with how Hori despite her strong exterior can be very fragile inside but still support him (fight for him, defend him, accept his true self, not judge him, hear him, make him feel good enough) made him feel compelled to grow stronger to protect her back.

Miko as she was at the beggining of the story couldn't provide Ishigami this sort of stability (and that's where Osaragi's "prettier story"/"you weren't there for him" reasoning fails) even if deep down she wanted to, but now after making many mistakes, learning from them and becoming more flexible, she absolutely can. Both Ishigami and Miko have deeply rooted issues that took them more than just each other to flesh out and develop, but they're very much the missing puzzle piece the other needs.

Miko still very much has room for growth as well, mainly concerning finding a middle ground between her "bad girl" and "good girl" personas that Ishigami can easily see through, as demonstrated by the consolation chapter. She tried being "bad", she attempted lying but was still saying half-truths, because her love of justice isn't just out of parental abandonment issues or loneliness - she does believe them sincerely. The moment Ishigami headpated her and shared genuine, spot-on words of concern and admiration (thus a hint of fondness), it was all over for her trying to keep up the love-warfare upper hand.

That's not actually new - Ishigami has always demonstrated he was able to see glimpses of her true self, be it teasing how she's an otaku or a closet pervert and such, he never fully bought the strait-laced image she aspired to make real. But it did take him being around her more to see she could be sweet to him and as he puts it, that smiling more is not a bad look on her. Miko says to Osaragi your true self only comes through interacting with others, so given how lonely she has always been (and how the one person close to her - Osaragi - was actually keeping things between them superficial because of her own problems), it's no surprise she's only finding out now who she is. Ishigami can help Miko find a better compromise of good/bad after both not following any rules at all for so long and recently learning that hard work can pay off. Miko immersing herself in his hobby will clash with her rigid study schedule sooner or later, and he'll know how to help her with that better than anyone else.

On the other hand, Ishigami's moral compass, romanticism (love for flowers, planing dates etc) and idealism aren't things he is proud of...yet. He protects himself with layers of cynism, especially in his first appearances, but he is always being contradictory and letting it slip how idealistic/pure he is at heart. He also is only now learning to like his outward image with things like fitness/studying and finding out it's not like he never cared about it - it's just that he was scared shitless of failure, thus never even tried hard in the first place to avoid being hurt. And as I have advocated for in the Sutera post, I expect Miko in some level to help him come to terms with seeing good in himself. Heck, even being able to game with her now and showing off how good he is and having her appreciate it is gonna do wonders to make him feel more "adequate". Tsubame's arc had a lot of him changing himself to become "better", but Miko on the other hand is trying to put herself in HIS shoes to maybe go "hey, I like you as you are. I'm trying to understand you more and put effort in for you".

Ishigami and Miko start out watching out for each other behind their backs - which instead of helping their relationship, drives them further apart because they think the other side is showing no appreciation. As the story progresses, they're slowly learning to make each other more aware of their support, and it is making them open up more in general.

They have a strong belief the other wants to be rescued and there is truth in that. Both want help and to be recognized for their efforts, but won't cry out for it. In the unplugged earbuds chapter Ishigami takes it upon himself to protect Miko's reputation in spite of himself, the election arc has him actually putting effort into the campaign just for the sake of protecting her and at first posing as a rival of hers to Shirogane only to reveal he's trying to "make Miko smile", he is constantly fending off men from interacting with her as protection (while also sounding jealous), he was way more protective of her when she was wearing that cast than needed and is now being able to openly headpat her and sounds almost like her "soothing sounds" from the days of yore lol Sure Tsubame seems like his start to becoming "a better man", but all the way back on the election, it was for Miko's sake that we first SEE him putting effort into *anything* without being coerced by anyone to take action.

And while it's more discreet compared to Ishigami's "white knight" attitude, Miko also tries hard to protect him - cheering him on during the sports festival race and wanting to console him before the stuco intervened, telling him he should study (but he thinks it's just nagging), christmas (which I'll elaborate bellow), making sure he was able to graduate middle school by actually confronting school staff and, of course, their very first meeting as recently revealed.

Many people hated the entirety of Osaragi's arc, but 232 gave very juicy info indeed. Ishigami's reason for supporting Miko from the shadows comes from admiration AND part gratitude for her attempting to talk to him and listen to what troubles him, and seeing they actually had a "falling out" argument was game changing.

He looks sad and troubled to have shut her down there, not simply angry, and so does she (there's tears in her eyes when her face is shown in the next page) - despite her black and white sense of justice at this point of the story, she still wanted to listen to him. And even after that outburst she still believed the rumors weren't real, unlike Osaragi sees it - otherwise she wouldn't have made the effort for him to be able to move on to high school. Why would she care, if she truly hated him and thought he was in the wrong?

If any further proof was needed at all that this info is important, I'm happy to say we have more. I noticed the Christmas stairs scene mirrors this exact falling out moment: "Go away"/"Suit yourself"

But this time Miko had already decided to change, had already seen the mess their relationship became the last time she did not reach out to him and thus already had their previous falling out in mind - meaning she decides to chase after him.

I don't like how the scanlations handled this scene because reading the japanese raws, my interpretation was that Miko was sounding "annoying" because she was still kinda drunk/unfiltered and freaking out when talking to Ishigami, not outright berating him like the Jaimini's box translation made it look like. She also sounds too angry after the fall, so I generally thought Viz's version (the panel shown above) was closer to the original.

"I always have to take care of you! You keep putting youself in danger. You can't make it on your own." is a better translation than Jaimini's, and also parallels better what Ishigami is often telling Miko as well (That she keeps putting herself in danger and that he has to be around to keep her in check). But with 232 in mind, I think it misses a nuance of the original line: "ほんとあんたは 私が居ないと危なっかしく駄目ね" - "Honto anta wa watashi ga inaito abunakkashiku dame ne" - while I'm a novice at japanese studies, gathering from what I can read and trying to get a feel of the whole sentence, it's closer to "So it really is dangerous to you if I'm not there/ It's no good if I'm not around you". You can take that as her being full of herself, which is the route Jaimini's goes ("You'd be screwed without me") but that's too hostile - Viz's got the spirit of wanting to protect him better, but the original has an implication that she has "tested not being there"/failed being there before (due to not fully siding with him in middle school) that's absent elsewhere.

IMO the reason Ishigami's "closed his eyes" arc is not over yet is because he hasn't accepted or gotten over or fully learned from his past yet, he simply shut it down. That's why briefly during the sports festival his eyes are in plain view, then go back to their usual for the balloon gag. I'm not sure if Ootomo herself will make a comeback, may or may not - regrets are regrets and sometimes the only solution to them is letting them stay in the past. But the topic of how he saw Miko in middle school and the letter certainly are being set up to still show up in the story.

If I compare him to Miyamura again, he'd still be at the point before Miyamura's haircut - not wanting to face the parts of himself he doesn't like, not quite ready to change. Not quite ready to patch up his own wounds yet and instead silencing everything from his past.

In this sense, Miko does wonders to make him feel more confident even if he hasn't realized it yet, and she's always dropping little hints she'd like him to worry about his future not in a naggy way, but because she genuinely prays for his success. He unconsciously wants Miko to think well of him and it fills him with confidence and a more prideful image of himself he doesn't really display to anyone else, not even Tsubame - like his usages of "ore" (a more manly/confident way of addressing himself) around her (AND HER ALONE):

( I don't like the available translations to the staircase scene either, lol. Zaibatsu has conveyed the tone of the second scene up there perfectly. For the staircase line, I've seen "I'll be there to catch you" and "I'll save you" which are contextually correct, but to me the original "俺が絶対守る" - "I (ore) will absolutely protect you" carries a much more romantic nuance or ambiguity, regardless of him realizing it at that point. It's like, the title to one of the most romantic moments/songs in the CCS Clear card anime ost, for instance. OF COURSE MIKO LOVES HIM. The narrator doesn't overexplain or take apart Ishimiko's interactions like for Prezguya, but all the evidence needed is there. And I gotta add the very next chapter to the staircase one is the "eternal love" x "real love" I'm super fond of that says fate is irrelevant and to find real love you must use your head to realize/understand things, so makes the romantic subtext even greater.)

This whole affair is also making me open my eyes that I should try to study japanese more...of course I'm happy to have translations and scanlators working hard, but there is something inherently lost in adaptations because it robs you of connecting with the author's intentions unless it was the author who wrote the translation in the first place

Thinking back on Ishigami's early "i wanna die/i'm going home/don't look at me" role, it seems unbelievable we're at the point he's now able to directly confront a "stranger" (lololol) or make serious promises with so much confidence.

PLEASE DON'T END SO SOON MANGA, I NEED MORE.

( off-topic kind of, but i'm lazy to make a separate post just for it: Since I mentioned things lost in translation, I saw something on Discord about Ishigami having an unreliable narrator moment in the "compliments" chapter/Iino Miko cannot love part 4 and holy molly, it is true. He first says something akin to "You're just too beautiful" out of context, Miko HEARS IT - and that's why she looks so shocked before asking for clarification - and he DID SAY IT in the speech bubble, but after she's nice to him and he thinks back to what he said he adds a "Your handwriting is just too beautiful" to his flashback. I'm ONTO HIM. ONTO HIM I SAY. It is what he meant, but it's like his mouth betrayed him. Whether it's unconscious or denial...it totally is something. The scanlation completely skips this and had the same line both times it's mentioned.)

[mourntheantagonist]

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!! It’s Finally the Day to share my piece for the @harringroveheart-on !! (If you didn’t already see it posted on ao3 yesterday)I went with the prompt: secret admirer!! enjoy some flangst and have a wonderful day whether you celebrate the holiday or not!! ❤️

Fortunately

read on ao3

***

Billy needs a job.

He’s two months fresh out of the hospital but that doesn’t matter. The local pool was closed for the winter and Neil was adamant that he get out and find work as soon as he was able to walk, despite the fact that he could only do so for only short periods at a time.

And he’s forced to take what he can get. January wasn’t the best time of year to be looking for work in Hawkins. He told himself he’d apply at any place with a help wanted sign displayed in their window. And he did. Application after application. Stellar fucking resume. The only problem was that not many people were looking to hire on the guy who looked just minutes away from death each time they saw him. Didn’t want to put the guy with the hideous scars and the sickly frame in front of customers. Though, they’d usually let him off with the same similar speech about how he “just wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Luckily for Billy, there was one place that was just as desperate as he was. Li’s Kitchen. The local Chinese restaurant that had just needed to make several layoffs to keep themselves from closing. They quickly hired him on to wash dishes in the back because he was ready and willing to work for minimum wage. Making just $3.35 an hour, it was enough and at least it got Neil off of his back.

So he’d haul his ass into work every day on the dot. Walking the full half-mile distance through snowy paths to the restaurant since the Camaro was still out of commission. Trudging along, praying he didn’t slip because his ribs were still fragile and just a simple impact of a good fall could break them again. The walk was simply exhausting. By the time he’d enter through those double doors and set off the bell hung above, he’d be completely out of breath and exhausted and his shift hadn’t even started yet. But fortunately it was just washing dishes. How hard could it be?

Apparently. Pretty fucking hard for a guy who could hardly stand up straight. The heat radiating from the hot steam of the water making him lightheaded almost instantaneously. The boiling hot water against his arms and hands sending him back to those days flayed out in the sun as the ultraviolet rays burned through the skin. The liquid dripping from his face that he couldn’t differentiate from steam or sweat taking him back to the sauna. Feeling his insides heat up and burn like fire inside his gut. Trapped in a prison that was his own body. He just wanted to crawl into a bucket of ice.

His only saving grace was that this time it was winter, and he wasn’t actually flayed. Just overheated and weak. He'd take his breaks behind the restaurant digging his feet into deep snow and letting the chill breeze cool him down. Lighting up a cigarette to get his body to an equilibrium of hot and cold. But the good feeling only lasted as long as he stood outside, immediately getting the same sick to his stomach feeling as soon as he walked back in. Hunched over the sink in the kitchen just trying to move fast enough and stay standing.

He figured he was lucky enough to get the job, that he couldn’t afford to disappoint, because then he’d be entirely out of options. Unemployed and still stuck under his father’s roof on Cherry Lane, this time accompanied by a deeper rage. If Billy didn’t have a job to get to, Neil would have no reason to hold back anything. No reason not to leave bruises or cuts. But it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Never enough time in the day to rest and recover enough to brave the next one. He was running on borrowed energy and excessive amounts of caffeine.

There came a moment when he nearly passed out into the sink full of porcelain plates. His breathing became shallow as his vision got blurry and dark. His head spun and his balance faltered and he needed a fucking drink of water.

One of the servers caught him just before he was about to go down. A man older than him but not by much. Same build as him before the accident but easily with an additional five inches on him. Billy was probably at least ten pounds lighter now that a bulk of his muscle had wasted away in that hospital bed. Making him easy to catch.

“You look like shit hargrove.” is what the man says, but Billy barely registers it because everything is muffled. The sounds of running water into the metal sink being the loudest noise he can hear. The man tosses one of Billy's arms over his shoulder and hauls him into the break room. Billy’s doing exactly zero of the work. Letting his legs fall limp and his feet drag against the tile floor. He sits him down in one of the metal chairs and hands him a small cup of water from the jug. “Drink you’re dehydrated” he says, tilting the bottom of the cup upwards so that it’s forced into Billy's mouth and down his throat. “The dinner rush is almost out, I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes, you just stay in here and try not to pass out again, sound like a plan?”

Billy nods his head and drinks the rest of the water in the cup before letting his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut as he tries to regain his composure. Cool himself down and slow his heart rate.

By the time his coworker — Zachary, he remembers — comes back into the break room he’s better. Not quite ready to get back to the sink and the hot steam cloud that comes with his job, but better.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten kid?” Kid. Sounds really odd coming from someone who could be no older than thirty.

“I had toast this morning.” Billy hadn’t actually been eating much lately. Not finding the time in the day to sit down to have a meal in between work and recovering from said work. His hours conflicted with family dinner so he was left to fend for himself. Neil made it very clear that what was in the cupboards did not belong to him. So all he had to his name was a single loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.

“Well guess what. It’s closing time and you’re not leaving here without a meal. So go sit down at one of the tables and pick anything you want from the menu.” Does Billy have pride? Yes. But is his stomach turning and his mouth watering at just the thought of some orange chicken? Also yes. So instead of arguing with him about how he can take care of himself, which is debatable at this point, he just says thank you and finds himself a table in the corner. He doesn’t expect Zachary to follow him all the way there and sit down right across from him.

“Don’t worry about paying. My dad will cook it up for free.”

Oh right. Zachary Li... The owner’s son.

And suddenly things went from awkward to outright uncomfortable for Billy. Because he was sitting here eating dinner with another man who would be footing the bill. Sure, Zachary was just his coworker and in his mind the exchange had absolutely no weight to it, but to billy it was so fucking heavy. The thought of Neil barging in to see the display and not giving two seconds to read the situation before he started throwing punches. Because it didn’t matter if it was a date or just dinner with a coworker. If it looked a certain way, then that’s how it was.

But the other thing was he couldn’t just get up now. Not without an explanation. So he sucked it up and said he’d have the orange chicken, earning a scowl followed by a laugh and a nod because of course he’d order that and none of the authentic chinese food dishes. But then he ordered the same thing because they both have fallen victim to american colonization.

And chef Li made a damn good orange chicken.

And this one did not disappoint. But it’s not like he really had the chance to taste it since he was too busy inhaling it. Finishing his entire plate before Zachary had even made a dent. And Billy was slightly embarrassed by it. But zachary said nothing. Just continued with his own meal without acknowledging that Billy had scarfed his own down in no time at all. Making other dry conversation with Billy and constantly refilling his water glass with the pitcher every time it got below half full.

When he’s just about finished is when chef Li brings out a small plate with fortune cookies sitting on top, one for each of them. They each take their own and crack them open.

“What’s it say? I got an inch of time is an inch of gold for the thousandth time. I swear elizabeth is getting lazy with these”

Billy looks down at his, and can’t help but laugh.

“A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life.”

Hahaha. Hilarious.

“Well then we better hope that these things come true. Though I have a lot of time and have not seen any gold fall into my lap yet.” he laughs and pops the cookie into his mouth, Billy does the same. “Hey dad, you gonna open one?”

“Sure.” he says. Pulling one from the container in the back and breaking it open quite aggressively. “Allow compassion to guide your decisions. Boring.”

They both just laugh. But then Zachary gets this weird look in his eyes. “Hey dad? What if Billy made the fortune cookies instead?”

“Who would wash the dishes?”

Zachary just shot him a look. Yeah, Billy's medical condition and clear exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed by the staff. That must have been what that look meant.

“Read that fortune again, Dad.”

He looks down at the slip of the paper in his hand and almost instantly tosses it to the floor.

“You’re a pain in my ass Zach. alright then Billy, you available in the mornings? I can have Elizabeth show you the ropes tomorrow and if you’re any good you won’t have to wash dishes anymore. That will be my ungrateful son's job.”

“Hey-“

“No ‘hey’ nothing. Have compassion, remember?” he swats Zach with the towel that hung over his shoulder.

Billy just stayed silent for the whole exchange. Only nodding his head when asked if he was free in the mornings. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. To tell them he could do his job perfectly fine. A bold faced lie, but still. However, he also recognized that he couldn’t continue the way he was going. He was three shifts away from an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and that would just piss off Neil further.

So instead of speaking up, he silently agreed, and suddenly found himself walking the same distance he did every day, this time at seven in the morning when the rest of his house was still asleep. Another bonus. Less he had to see Neil, the better. And he’d be home in time for family dinner, the only meal he was welcome to join. And as much as he hated sitting across the table from his Dad, Susan's cooking served as a pleasant enough distraction.

Liz gladly showed him how to make the cookies. Constantly expressing how much she hated making them and is happily giving up the job to billy. That didn’t make him feel too great about it.

But then it really wasn’t bad. Just tedious. Slightly boring and mindless. Made his hands ache after a couple hours of folding the fortunes and squeezing out the batter, but it was ten times less painful than doing the dishes. He got to make them while sitting down at a table before the place even opened. No crowded kitchen or hot running water. The only heat he experienced came from opening and closing the oven, and that only happened for seconds at a time.

And the best part.

He got to make the fortunes.

Typing out several sheets of sample fortunes on a typewriter, cutting them into slips using the paper guillotine. It was definitely strange they never bothered to check his work. They had way too much trust in a guy like Billy to write fortunes. Free will to throw anything in there.

Did he ever veer away from the script posted to the wall? No. But the fact that he could was so funny to him.

He never once considered he would actually want to throw something else into those fortune cookies, until that first tuesday in the middle of his shift right as they opened for lunch and he saw a familiar figure enter through the glass doors into the restaurant. Bell chiming behind him. Craning his head upwards so he could get a closer look he recognizes Steve, picking up a to-go order still wearing the dark green family video vest. Steve didn’t even notice him. Just grabbed his white paper bag, dropped the bill on the counter, and walked out the door. Flashing a smile at Liz who was up running the counter.

But Billy, he saw Steve. He stared at Steve for the duration of his time in the store because he was totally and completely whipped. Totally entranced for long enough that the cookies he was folding had already hardened, and Zach was giving him a weird look when Billy visibly shook at the sound of the bell chiming for the second time, pulling him from the trance.

“So harrington, huh? He’s your fortune?”

Billy got all wide eyed and jerked his head to the right to look at him. Completely zoned out and unprepared to defend himself, instead just stuttering out a string of nonsensical “I”s and “no”s and “it’s not”s. Failing miserably to get the lies past his tongue.

“Relax dude. I don’t really give a shit. Elizabeth, however, might. Girl doesn’t stop talking my ear off about you.”

But that just goes in one ear and out the other. Billy still continues to stutter out as best of a denial he can but his heart is racing, his stomach is churning, his palms are sweating, and the cookies are burning!

“Shit.” it’s the first full sentence he’s been able to get out. Rushing over to the oven and pulling out the hot pan of nearly completely blackened circles.

And Zach is just standing there laughing. Waving the smoke out of his face as Billy tries to blow out the miniature fire he caused on one of the cookies.

“Still gonna try and deny it?” he says.

“Fuck off. Seriously.”

Zach just backs away. Hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my own business. Lover boy.”

Billy promptly tosses one of the finished cookies at his face. “Whatever you think you saw. Keep it to your fucking self, alright?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he’s still fucking giggling and Billy is currently contemplating murder. Eyes darting to the array of knives in close reach. Shakes the feeling. Killing the boss's son probably wouldn’t look good on evaluation.

Did he tell anyone? No. Did he tease billy relentlessly about it every fucking day. Of course he fucking did. Especially on days Steve walked into the restaurant for a to-go order. Nudging him in the arm with a little “Guess who’s here?” in a sing-songy voice.

And to think Billy thought having someone know and not crucify him would be a good thing. He'd rather he just hate crime him behind the restaurant instead of the constant, and I mean constant, ribbing.

Eventually moving on from teasing behind the wall of the kitchen to suggesting he go out and take the payment to actually pushing him out the swinging doors to do it. “Talk him up Hargrove. Put on the moves.”

There were no moves. But there was a conversation. A good one. A nice one. They just talked about themselves and caught up. Not really seeing much of each other once he was out of the hospital. Only having seen Steve in passing on days he’d bring max by for visiting hours. But they never actually talked much during that time. He’d come up to the room with her saying “Thought it’d be nice to see another familiar face.”

And it was.

Billy was not paying much attention to this conversation. Answering Steve's questions and asking his own, but he was definitely distracted by how close their hands were to each other, both rested on the counter, supporting themselves. If you asked Billy after the conversation what they talked about, he could only recall two things. One; he works at family video, not really substantial. And two; he said he looked good.

“You look good Billy.”

Yup, Billy was completely gone.

So maybe the constant teasing wasn’t completely terrible. Especially now that he’s given him such a stupid stupid stupid idea that he’s one hundred percent going to go through with because it’s about fucking time he wrote some fortunes of his own. He had several typed out and ready to be placed into a cookie whenever they received another call for an order for ‘Harrington.’ The first one was innocent enough. Pulled straight off the list of sample fortunes.

“You always bring others happiness.”

Just something simple. He just saw it on the list and it made him smile. Thought it would be nice to see Steve smile too.

The next few were similar to that one. Pulled straight off of the list but tailored specifically toward Steve.

“You are working hard.”

“Have a beautiful day.”

“You look pretty.”

But that last one was different. Because on the back of the last one he wrote in ballpoint pen.

- The cookie maker ♡

And that’s when it became a thing that they were both aware of. Now it was a romantic gesture and not just an act of kindness or a series of coincidental fortunes. Now steve was on the lookout for who made the fortunes at Li’s kitchen, but at the same time trying to keep the mystery alive so that the fortunes would keep coming.

Billy started writing out his own.

“I like your hair.”

“You have a terrific ass.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on you.”

Zach wrote that last one.

Then they got deeper.

“You make me happy when I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You make the pain go away.”

Steve never failed to blush at each and every fortune with the signature heart on the back.

But it was dragging on. And Steve was getting impatient. Started to ask around, eventually learning that robin had seen Elizabeth Li making them one time.

Elizabeth Li is sixteen. Absolutely not.

And now he feels bad for letting it drag on this long. Taking himself to the restaurant to let her down gently. When he walks through, Billy is standing behind the counter. Confused because he didn’t usually order on Wednesdays, and especially not this late in the day.

Was that a weird thing to know?

“Do you have an order to pick up?” Billy asks.

“No. Not today. I was actually hoping I could talk to Elizabeth, is she around?”

And Billy's heart just sinks to the floor. The slight smile that was on his face now completely gone and shattered to pieces.

“Yeah. I’ll go get her.” he says, with a heavy heart, disappointment clear in his voice.

He sends her out to the front and lingers in the back, ear pressed to the door trying to listen in like some creep.

“Look, elizabeth. I’m really flattered and I appreciate the fortune cookies, but you’re way too young for me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Is Billy supposed to be worried or relieved?

He can’t even see her face but he knows she’d be giving him her death stare right about now.

He can hear her say it through clenched teeth and he shouldn’t find it so funny but it is.

“Yeah. Okay, sorry about that. I’ll definitely stop doing that. Have a good day Steve.” And she just walks away from the counter and Billy barely jumps backwards in time to not get a door slammed in his face.

“You better fucking fix this Hargrove. I am not going to go down for this for you.”

Zach had just walked into the kitchen from the break room. Chef Li and the rest of the staff are just minding their own business.

“What did I miss?”

Elizabeth is all up in Billy’s personal space. Inches away from his chest looking up at him from her height of just five feet and three inches.

“Steve fucking Harrington thinks I’m his little secret admirer.”

Her face is red in anger but Zach’s is red from laughing so hard.

“Now that’s fucking funny.”

“If you don’t tell Steve, I will. I covered for you out of the kindness of my heart, but I’m not that kind.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Shut up Zach!”

Zach was laughing. Billy however, was suddenly not. Head now bowed, sighing heavily.

“I can’t do that.” It was a quiet and sudden change of tone that altered the mood of the situation entirely. The only people who could hear were just the three of them because the sound couldn’t overpower the noises of chopping vegetables and the clanking of pots and pans and the sizzle of cooking meat.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you. You know why.”

“Well what was your plan Romeo?! Were you just never going to tell him?” she threw her hands in the air like he was being ridiculous. The only thing that was ridiculous was that he ever went through with it in the first place.

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t fucking know.”

Zach came up from behind him and offered a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Look dude, my little sister is a bitch but she’s right. You have to tell him. I’ll have your back when you do.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Billy jerks his head back down to look at Liz.

“Tell him. Tomorrow.” Her arms were crossed and she clearly wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

“Fuck the both of you. My shift is over.” Billy pushed past her and out of the restaurant. Leaving his jacket behind and walking home through the cold weather. His converse getting wet from the slushy snow, soaking through to his socks making him even colder all over. He’s internally freaking out and his heart would be beating out of his chest if his nervous system wasn’t operating at a decreased rate due to potential hypothermia.

He can’t even think. Just kicking his feet against the wet pavement letting the breeze take him over. If he dies, he doesn’t have to tell him.

Headlights pass him by as he slowly walks the distance home, nobody caring about the guy who cheated death just months ago inching closer back to that point instead of further away. Nobody stops to offer him a ride or even check to see if he’s okay, and he’s not even sure if he even wants to make it home. It would be preferable to just fall asleep in one of the bushes outside than having to make his day even worse by introducing Neil into it. Sitting at a dinner table, making nice and pretending like everything that was going well for him won’t come to an end twenty four hours from now. All the joy of making those little fortune cookies and just imagining the look on Steve’s face every time. The look he knew for sure was one of happiness despite never seeing it because it wasn’t a coincidence Steve’s lunch orders became more and more frequent.

But in his peripheral a set of headlights did seem to slow. That was either a sign he was meeting his savior, or potentially his kidnapper. Honestly at this point they are the same thing.

“Billy?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Hey Harrington.” His teeth are chattering and his voice is shaky as he says it. Is it the cold? Or are his nerves finally beginning to work at the worst time possible?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“You’ll die out here.”

“If only.” He says it under his breath but Steve still hears it. Letting the car come to a complete stop rather than the slow pacing he was doing before.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Billy just waves him off. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And he continues walking at his slow pace.

“I wasn’t fucking asking. Get the hell in Hargrove. Before I drag you in here.”

Billy stops and sighs. Kicking more slush into the air. “Fine.”

He walks around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the seat. Groaning as his body aches from the motion. Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Just puts the car back into drive and heads towards Cherry Lane. Silence in the car as Billy breathes into his hands trying to warm them up. He’s pale. Looks like he’s never seen the sun before. His face is flushed. Even in the state like this Steve carries the same sentiment from that first conversation at the restaurant.

“You look good, Billy.”

He doesn’t say that. But he’s thinking it.

They eventually pull up to the white house with the screened in porch, and Billy grows visibly tense in his seat. He’s not moving. Just darting his eyes from the clock in the car and back to the house with the lights on.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. But Billy’s eyes continue to move back and forth as his breathing quickens slightly more as each second ticks by. Showing no sign that he heard the words that came out of Steve’s mouth. He reaches over the center console and grabs his hand. “Hey.”

Billy looks over like a deer in the headlights. Eyes ever so slightly glossy. Clearing his throat he tries to speak.

“Can you take me somewhere else?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to go home. Can’t begin to even think about seeing his Dad today. He just wants to crawl under his covers and go to sleep. Dream of a reality that isn’t his own. Not this fucked up shit show he’s stupidly gotten himself into.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here?”

Neither of them realize Steve is still holding his hand. Not until he squeezes it tighter, recognizing the pain in Billy’s voice. Not for what it meant but just that it was there. He didn’t need to nor want to know why Billy didn’t want to go home. Just wanted to make it so he didn’t have to.

“Is my house okay?”

Billy hesitates, but nods.

And they turn the car around.

- : -

Billy wakes up the next morning on Steve’s couch to the sound of a microwave’s hum followed by a loud ‘ding’ that echoes off the walls. He just remembers walking through the door of Steve’s house and immediately laying down on the first soft surface he could find. Remembers Steve saying he’d be upstairs if he needed anything before quickly drifting off into sleep without a care in the world.

He went to sleep without a pillow and a blanket, and woke up with both.

Billy rubs away at his eyes while Steve enters the living room from the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

“I made you a hot pocket if you want one.” He sets the plate onto the coffee table before he takes a seat in the chair beside the couch. Billy sits himself up and takes the plate, cooling it off with a quick blow of his breath before biting into it. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, at eight. What time is it?”

“Only seven fifteen. I have to be in at eight thirty so I can drop you off if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s seriously not a problem man, and no offense but you don’t look like you’d make the walk from here to there.”

Billy laughs.

“I thought you said I looked good.”

Shit. It’s weird that he remembers that.

But Steve blushes. “Well yeah, just not ‘two mile hike’ good. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

Billy frowns. “My Dad is making me.”

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to go home.

The situation is awkward now. Silent as they finish their breakfasts and drive off in the Beemer. Pulling up outside the restaurant fifteen minutes before his shift starts. Billy suddenly reminded of what he’s supposed to do today as soon as he looks at the sign out front.

“Uh, hey. Listen. Come by the restaurant for to-go. On me y’know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

Billy cuts him off.

“Yes. I do.”

- : -

When Billy walks into the kitchen in the same clothes as yesterday nobody says anything. Nothing about his undone hair or his or his early arrival to work. Instead he’s met with apologies exiting the mouths of the two Li children as they corner him in the break room.

“We’re sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t fair for us to do that to you. Elizabeth said she won’t tell Steve.”

They were waiting for him to yell, or at the very least get his anger out some way.

But instead Billy smiled. Barely there with just the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but it was there, so distinct from his natural grimace. “It’s fine.” He says.

Zachary and Elizabeth are entirely confused. Looking in between each other like ‘did you just see what I just saw?’

“What has you so chipper?”

His smile just grew slightly wider.

“Spent the night at Steve’s last night.”

The two’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“You what!?” They both said in unison.

“Jesus! Not like that. I just slept on his couch.”

Billy could see the cogs turning in each of their heads. Trying to figure everything out like it was some complicated math problem. “I think I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“Really?”

Billy nodded, threw on his skull cap, and left the dumbfounded siblings where they stood. He had a fortune to write, and cookies to bake.

He was so meticulous this time. Making sure they were perfectly round circles, folded exactly in half. Throwing nonsense fortunes into each one. Avoiding the one sitting by itself on the table beside him. Too afraid to throw it into a cookie, each time he tossed in another basic off the list fortune was just Billy trying to talk himself out of it.

But he inches closer and closer to reaching the point of no return. First by putting in Steve’s lunch order. Next by finally slipping the fortune into a cookie. Next by slipping the cookie into Steve’s bag, and finally at the strike of noon, handing the bag to Steve, insisting he pay for it while Billy continuously denies him. Telling him to go enjoy his meal and stop arguing with him.

When Steve walked out the door Billy thought he could stop holding his breath. But he couldn’t let it out. Thought the anticipation lied with handing the meal to Steve, now feeling his breath caught even more now that he had. It was the anticipation of not knowing. He had to know.

But Steve left with the cookie still intact.

So he had to wait.

- : -

Steve brought his lunch into Family Video. The same thing he always ordered. Feeling a warm sensation in his chest at the knowledge that Billy knew his order. Fried rice and soup dumplings. Robin was there, waiting to mooch off of his food since she never bothered to bring her own lunch, but would also refuse to let Steve buy her anything.

If he didn’t know any better he’d think she liked him.

But he did know better not even to entertain that idea. She was just the girl who liked to eat Steve’s food because that’s just what she did. She’s standing there with her grabby hands, ready to start digging into his rice. She peruses through the contents of the bag and pulls out the plastic containers and the one fortune cookie that he always got.

“Did you let her down easy?” Robin asks, waving the cookie in his face.

“Yes. She was weird about it. But I guess she took it well.”

“Well that’s good. Can I have this one then?”

“Sure. Go for it. I don’t like them all that much anyway. I just like them for the fortunes.”

“Well then let’s see what Steve Harrington’s fortune is today, shall we?”

Robin cracks it open and gently pulls the slip of paper out from inside. Popping the cookie into her mouth as she pulls it taut so she can read it.

Her eyes squint. She pulls it closer to her face, just inches away like she can’t see what she’s reading. Like she’s confused.

“What’s it say?”

“Umm.” She just shakes her head. Mouth still full with the fortune cookie as she passes it along to Steve.

He takes it from her hesitantly, and a look of confusion washes over his face as he reads the words.

“I’m not Elizabeth Li.”

“What?” He says it mostly to himself, because what the fuck?

He turns it over and is expecting to see the same little signature. The vague ‘the cookie maker’ with the tiny heart.

Well the heart is still there.

But it says something else.

- Billy ♡

“Holy shit.”

- : -

It’s a painstakingly long rest of his shift. Doing the same old boring jobs like cleaning up, manning the front counter, and bussing tables when he’d finished the daily batch of cookies. It usually felt like a long five hours, but today it was excruciating. He could feel Zach and Liz’s eyes on him the whole time. Like they were watching intently so they didn’t miss the moment where he inevitably exploded from all the anxiety in his chest.

Billy’s constantly playing out different scenarios in his head. Steve barging into the store and punching him in the face being the one that’s the most prevalent. Occasionally letting himself get slightly hopeful and imagining the opposite.

But there was a third scenario he considered. That Steve just wouldn’t come back at all. Let him down by not even bringing him up. Robbing him of the closure he needs. He’d rather Steve just punch him in the face. That was a kind of rejection he could handle. One that gave him a reason to let go. Not one that left him hanging on by a single thread.

His shift is quickly coming to an end and he’s debating on how desperate he is to wait and linger around the restaurant with his small shred of hope that he comes back. His neck hurts from jerking his head towards the door every time the bell chimed. Hoping to see the boy with the chestnut hair walk through only to be greeted by another local he refused to learn the name of.

He’s losing his goddamn mind and he needs a fucking cigarette.

His shift comes to an end and he clocks out. Escaping to the back of the restaurant behind the dumpsters, lighting up a Marlboro Red and sinking his weight against the brick siding of the building. Feeling himself shiver when the heat of the flame warms the tip of his nose. Breathing in the smoke trying to regain some sense of calm that completely left his body as soon as he handed the bag to Steve. Too many hours on this high alert feeling that he can’t even recall what relaxation feels like anymore. Just accepts the burning in his lungs in the cold outside weather with just the hum of low traffic and the sound dripping gutters as the closest thing he’s going to get to that for the time being.

Finishing his cigarette, he tosses the bud into a puddle. Dragging a hand over his face as he prepares to walk back into the crowded restaurant that would feel completely empty because it was lacking the one fucking person he wanted to see.

He could go see him.

No he couldn’t. The ball already was in Steve’s court.

He opens the door and Zach is standing right there like he was waiting for him.

“What the fuck dude?”

“No. Shut up. Someone is in the break room waiting for you.”

Billy doesn’t get the chance to register his words before he’s being grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged and pushed into the room, where Steve is sitting at the table.

Just looking at him. Studying him.

“Look, Steve –“

“Stop.” He cuts him off. Continues to stare before hesitantly reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out what looks to be a ziplock plastic bag. Opening it and dumping the contents of it out on the table all while Billy is left standing there unable to speak, couldn’t even if Steve would let him. The ability to get words out being entirely suppressed by the sight of about ten slips of paper spread out on the table in front of Steve. Steve just looking back down at them and not looking back at Billy. Lost in another trance. He starts moving them around on the table. Moving them away from each other so that none are touching each other and they are all completely exposed. Steve smiles. Gets up from the chair.

Walks over to where Billy stands with his back pressed against the door, holding tightly to the handle for a quick escape. Steve moves so slowly, like he’s forging his plan with each step until their chests are just inches away from each other. Steve’s looking down, away from Billy’s gaze. Taking Billy’s hand in his, causing him to shudder. “You know I rushed over as soon as I could. Thanks for the lunch Billy.” Billy’s just silent and completely still against the door. Steve’s hold on him is loose yet he feels entirely restrained. “I can’t believe it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Billy practically chokes on the words, prompting Steve to finally turn his eyes up toward him. Seeing how his eyes have grown glossy and his face has turned a pinkish color.

“What for?”

“That it was me.”

Steve squeezes his hand tighter, brings another to Billy’s cheek gently and Billy feels like he’s being suffocated under the touch. Like instead the hand is wrapped around his throat and pushing against his airway. But he leans into it. Steve’s touch is so soft and he lets his eyes fall shut to burn the sensation into his memory.

“Don’t apologize for that.”

His eyes are still closed when Steve moves forward and kisses him. Shooting open as soon as lips make contact and he suddenly stiffens like a board. It’s quick and chaste and he doesn’t get the opportunity to kiss back before it’s over.

“You can’t… you don’t –“

“But I do.”

“This isn’t a joke, Steve.”

“I agree.”

Billy’s left standing there. Rubbing at his lips that were just touching Steve with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Steve smirks, moves back into Billy’s space so his breath is hot against his mouth.

“You could kiss me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t need to be asked twice.