#she took her own life‚ and her current critical standing is beyond anything she could have imagined in her own lifetime; but still academic

[mariocki]

Play 20: Phaedra's Love by Sarah Kane

First performed: Gate Theatre, London, 1996

Quote: "There's a thing between us, an awesome fucking thing, can you feel it? It burns. Meant to be. We were. Meant to be." (Phaedra)

Stage direction: [Opens her mouth. No sound comes out.]

Notable cast: the original Gate production included Andrew Scott in a minor role. Laurence Penry-Jones starred in a 2005 revival at the Old Vic.

Notes: Only Kane's second play, Phaedra's Love was commissioned by the Gate Theatre, who asked for a drama inspired by a classical text. Reworking Seneca's Phaedra, Kane produced a clipped, precise distillation of tragedy as narrative. A paean to self-destruction which comments on voyeurism, faith and the inadequacies of love; critical reception was muted when compared to the histrionic moralising that greeted her first play, Blasted (1995). Featuring scenes of astonishing violence and horror, contemporary readings often focus on the brutality and nihilism of Kane's dialogue - but they're missing an extraordinary tenderness which unfolds alongside it. A masterful, troubling work from one of the greatest (and most sorely missed) voices of a generation of theatre.

Read: for the first time, but definitely not the last.

[foli-vora]

more than words - pt.1

A/N: I’ve had this in my head for forever and a half so it feels good to finally sort my thoughts and random notes out. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual acts/sexual refences (no smut yet but it’s coming so this is strictly 18+)

pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

Wednesday nights were pizza nights. A rule established in the early stages of your friendship with Benjamin Miller – a loud mouth, golden hearted ex-spec ops mess of a human being. A chance meeting one stormy day on the freeway, led to something you weren’t expecting – a friendship, and a solid one at that.

“– she damn near tried to suck the life out of me!”

“Jesus Ben, there are kids a table over.”

“So? They shouldn’t be eavesdroppin’ on conversations that don’t concern them.” He grins lopsidedly at your scowl of disapproval, ripping off a mouthful of pizza and humming as he chews it, head swaying to the faint music playing behind the bar. “You’re payin’, by the way.”

You snort quietly, “Don’t I always?”

He recoils, blinking in playful surprise. “Excuse you? I paid last…” he trails off, eyes rolling to the wall as he thinks but a frown soon pinches his brows. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you and I appreciate you.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you signal for another round. “Anyways, reverting to our previous topic before you got carried away with your blowjob story.”

He makes a noise, snapping his fingers as he tries to rush chewing and swallowing his mouthful. “So,” he starts, “I’ve got a friend…”

You groan immediately, letting your head lull back. “Ben –”

This wasn’t anything new. Benny took it as his own personal mission to fix you up with anyone he thought could give you a good time and treat you well. Friends, colleagues, Hell – even his brother at one point. Will was lovely, by all means, but not your type. Both you and Will had agreed you were not a match in the slightest early in the evening, enjoyed a night of beer and pool, and then went your separate ways.

Although, now that you thought about it, Ben hadn’t mentioned setting you up with anyone for a long while. Not since before his mysterious trip.

You still didn’t know anything about it, other than he and some old work friends went on an apparent ‘vacation’. It was more than that – you knew it, and he knew you knew it, but you didn’t push the topic. Instead of interrogating him, forcing question after question on him, you let it go, sensing it was something he really didn’t want to talk about.

He had returned from that trip a few months ago, heavy with exhaustion and usually bright eyes dull and weary. You tucked him into your bed, and left him. He slept for hours. It wasn’t until much later that evening that you crept in to see how he was doing, and found him thrashing silently in the sheets, sweaty and incoherently mumbling, face pinched and puckered in pain. You didn’t wake him. Instead, you knelt beside the bed, softly stroking along his forehead until his erratic movements and breathing calmed. You didn’t bring it up.

“I know, I know,” he threw his hands up in defence with a small grin, “but I think you’ll like this one.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“No, I mean it this time. He’s a real good guy – one of my closest. I think you guys would really hit it off. I haven’t tried to set you up before because he was with the chick but she upped and left him alone with the baby and –”

“Sorry, what?”

“What?”

“He has a baby? Like a… like a child?”

Benny frowns defensively, “You’ve always said you want kids!”

“It’s still a huge commitment, Ben.”

“Jesus, I’m not walking you down the aisle! Just meet him and see where it goes. If it ends in some good sex, you say ‘thank you Ben’ and we move on. And if it ends in something more, you guys take it slow and buy me wings as a thank you.” He shrugs, looking thoroughly impressed with himself, and reaches for his beer, polishing it off in one swig.

“And what if it ends in bad sex?” You challenge, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward to eye him critically.

He scoffs, “Woman please. I know my brothers. You’ll be in good hands.”

You take a moment to thank the waitress as she stops at your table with your beers. She lingers just a little on passing Ben his, an act he didn’t miss as he shoots her a wink and a honeyed, thanks sugar. She smiles, cheeks flooding with colour before she turns and waltzes off towards other customers, swinging her hips as she goes.

You’re expressionless when he finally turns back to you, “Sugar?”

“Shut your mouth.”

Façade cracking, a snicker falls past your lip and you chuckle. “Alright,” you concede, “you’ve got my interest. What’s his name?”

“Fish.”

… what?

“Come again?”

“Francisco – we call him Fish. Catfish, actually.”

“Your age?”

“Bit older.”

You sigh deeply, rolling your head on your shoulders in thought. You were curious, no doubt about it. Despite never being able to make anything last long-term out of the list of men Benny had set you up with, none of them were bad guys. They were all kind, funny and incredibly respectful. One great thing about Benjamin Miller was that he had an impeccable taste in character.

“I don’t know, Ben –”

He slips his phone from his pocket and swipes away at his screen before wordlessly handing you the device. It was a photo, taken from one of Benny’s many weekend trips into the wilderness. Your eyes are dragged from the incredible background of snow peaked mountains and lush green forests to the man standing beside Benny, tucked under his arm. Average build and height, a well-loved trucker cap hiding dark hair. Warm brown eyes, crinkled from a large dimpled grin between dark patched facial hair.

Benny, seeing the sudden spark of interest, grins around his beer bottle. “So, I’ll slip him your number?”

You tighten your jaw and hand his phone back, sniffing impassively as you reach for your beer. “If it means you’ll leave me alone, then fine.” You mutter coolly, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

+

“Wait, wait – you have a best friend and it’s not one of us? I’m cut, Benny. Cut real deep.” Santiago Garcia was curious, to say the least. For years, he had known the youngest Miller and he had never mentioned anyone beyond their little circle or their families. “She cute?”

Benny huffs a chuckle, leaning across the pool table and lining up the final ball. “Hell yeah, she’s cute.”

“Where you been hiding her?”

“She moved away – only came back late last year.”

Santi hums, “Ironhead – she cute?”

Will half smiles, dragging his attention away from the pool table to shrug. “She’s alright.”

His bait works. Benny snaps it up – hook, line and sinker. He stands abruptly from his shot, cue just skimming the white ball, and points an angry finger in his brother’s direction, “I won’t take that shit. She’s a damn angel and you know it.”

Will chuckles to himself before returning his attention to Santi. “Yeah, she’s cute. Show ‘em.”

Benny briefly steps away from the pool table, opens his phone and brings up your Instagram profile, throwing it to Pope and letting him scroll through your feed.

“How come you’ve met her and we haven’t?” Pope aims his question at the older Miller brother, currently bent over the table and pocketing the black ball.

He half shrugs, straightening. “He set us up. It didn’t work out.”

Santi’s face puckers into a teasing glower, and he pouts at the younger Miller. “So, what? You set everyone else up and just leave me to die alone? What’s that about, Benjamin?”

Benny holds his arms out in obvious exaggeration, gesturing deliberately to himself. “You’ve got me.”

Frankie quietly sips his beer and watches in fond amusement, content to stay in the background and away from the bickering. Like Santi, his interest had been piqued but he was somewhat nervous about the situation. He already had feelings of apprehension returning to the dating scene after the shit show of a year he’d had, and those feelings tripled when it came to potentially dating someone close to one of his longest friends. He hadn’t dated in years. He was rusty. What if he disappointed you and Benny ended up kicking his ass? It could get messy real quick.

“I don’t know, man.” He finally pipes up, crossing his arms comfortably across his torso and reclining in the bar stool after peaking over Santi’s shoulder and at the screen he was lazily scrolling through. Ha. Way out of his league. “This kinda shit never works.”

“You sayin’ she’s not good enough for you?”

Frankie shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You know I’m not.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“Quite the opposite.”

“I’ll take his spot. Give me her number.” Santi holds a hold out, clicking his fingers impatiently when Benny merely rolls his eyes. Pope grins, settling back into his seat and elbowing Frankie softly. “I think you should go for it, man. She seems great, and you need to get back out there.”

“I can’t, I’ve got Mena –”

“And Mena’s got her tío. Go for it. You’re just looking for excuses – no seas cobarde.”

Frankie chews on his lip as he gives it a bit of thought, wondering what’s the worst possible case scenario that could come from it. A busted lip? His self-image in ruins? Scared off from dating for the rest of his life? All things he could live with.

“… alright.”

Immediately, Benny perks up from setting the pool table with a large grin. “Yeah?”

Fish sighs, long and drawn out as Pope playfully pokes his side. “Yeah. Give me her number, I’ll message her now.” Before he freaks and changes his mind.

Maybe he was just thinking too much. What’s the worst that could happen?

+

Tags: @anu-simps​

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 28- Crossbones

Summary: The Avengers uncover the identity of the mysterious Crossbones and mount a mission to apprehend him in Lagos.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: NEW BANNER ALERT @angrybirdcr​ has made a DOOZY for the Civil War part of the Story.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 27

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

January 2016

“Are you sure this isn’t a team call?” Katie asked Steve, watching as he picked up his shield.

“No.” He shook his head firmly as they walked down the corridor.  “We don’t even know if he will be there.”

“But…”

“Katie, stop!” Steve chuckled, pushing the door open to enter the hangar. “We’ll be fine. This is intelligence gathering, I’ve no intention of heading straight off after this guy, not until we find out what his play is.”

“His play is arms trading.” Nat interjected dryly as she appeared at the side of the jet.

“Which we are going to gather intelligence on.” Steve looked at her sternly “Nothing more.”

Katie bit her lip, she wasn’t convinced.

“We’ll be fine.” Steve continued, putting both his hands on her shoulders before he deftly changed the subject. “Don’t you have an interview to be getting ready for?”

He watched as the gentle smile spread across her face, a surge of pride flooding his system. She’d recently found out that the author of one of the books SIP had published last year had worked their way onto the Pulitzer Nominee list for fiction. The book itself held a plot centred around a War Veteran and the letters he wrote to his girl back home, and she’d roped Steve into helping the author keep it as factually correct as possible, something he had found strangely nostalgic yet enjoyable. Upon publishing it had flown off the shelves, the original five hundred copies went within three hours causing a mad scramble for a second run and downloads had been off the scale. Other than the Thrombey book they had published, it was their biggest seller to date, shifting almost half a million copies in a month, and with a foreword from Steve Rogers, critics had raved about how poignant it was.

Whilst it hadn’t won the prize, simply being a nominee was an honour in itself according to Katie. The Publicists at SIP had arranged for the author to be interviewed in a few newspapers and magazines along with one of them also requesting Katie, to discuss the launch of her new charity The March Foundation, which would sit alongside Tony and Pepper’s latest initiative- The September Foundation, but instead of focusing on inventors and science, it would instead be centred around authors and the arts.

The name was a play on words, not only being another month to compliment Tony’s, but also to honour both the War Based fiction that had inspired it and the man who had saved her life as March was the month of Bucky’s birth. A decision that had really touched Steve.

She took a deep breath and sighed, as she eyed Natasha heading up the ramp into the jet.

“Just be careful…”

“I’m always careful.” Steve kissed her gently.

“Liar.” She mumbled against his lips. He grinned and pulled back, pecking her mouth once more before he started up the ramp. He paused at the top and turned to face her. “We’ll be back late tonight. Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t!” she teased.

He flashed her another smile and then he hit the button and the ramp started to close. A loud siren told Katie that the hangar door was opening and that was her cue to leave. She headed back over to the steps at the side, leading up to the mezzanine, and as she watched through the window she saw the jet fly out of the side and over the frosty compound grounds. It up through the clouds and gone from sight before she had reached the double doors at the top.

The base was a hive of activity already, despite it being little after seven am. Katie was heading for an hour or so in the gym before her day began properly. She stuck her Bluetooth headphones in, selected the usual work out play-list and began to run on the treadmill, slowly at first to ease herself in- she was a little bit stiff and sore from her sparring session with Natasha yesterday. Nat had really upped the ante on Katie over the last month or so, which was good as Katie was now pretty much on a par with her when it came hand to hand, something Steve had been completely astonished to see after walking in on the two women just as his wife floored Natasha with a well-placed leg swipe the red head didn’t see coming. 

Forty minutes later, Katie swapped to the rower to finish off, and was approximately half way through the three-kilometre distance when her music cut off and the screen to the right of the machine switched over from the play-list to a visual of Rhodey.

“Hey Kiddo,” He smiled as she stopped rowing to look at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve had a sensor trip on the outer perimeter of the facility.”

“You send someone out there?” She frowned, catching her breath as she picked up the bottle of water that was to her right.

“Yeah, Sam is currently out there looking for it, just thought, well seeing as Cap and Nat are out, you’re technically the one in charge so…”  

She let out a snort as she swallowed a mouth full of her drink.  Being third in command was something she didn’t really care for, knowing full well it was Steve’s way giving her some kind of authority over simply being the Captain’s Wife, but she’d accepted the gesture simply because he’d been so excited when he had asked her she couldn’t refuse.

“Okay, I’ll go and check it out. “

Standing up she left the gym and moved quickly to the armoury, grabbing a gun, a coms piece and a fleece jacket before quickly making her way outside.

“What’s going on up there, Sam?” Rhodey spoke in her ear as she walked into the cold air, spotting Sam circling above.

“I’m at the location of the sensor trip, but I’m not seeing anything.” He said. “Oh, hang on…”

“What is it?” Katie asked, watching him as he circled above her.

“Roof top…”

“Gimme a lift?” 

Sam swooped down from the clear, winter sky and she grabbed his arm as he effortlessly pulled her up, dropping them both onto the flat roof of one of the buildings.

“I can see you.” Sam called out loudly as they landed.

Katie frowned, as she didn’t know what Sam was talking about until out of nowhere a man in a red and silver suit, with an insect like helmet suddenly appeared. Katie cocked her gun and aimed it at him.

“Who the hell are you?” she questioned. As they watched the man started to awkwardly introduce himself to Sam, his mask lifted to reveal a shaky smile as he waved.

“Hi, I’m Scott. I know who you are, obviously, you’re Katie Stark, I mean Rogers…” Scott started trying to hold back his enthusiasm and motioning towards Sam and Katie with a chuckle. "I’m a big fan.”

"Appreciate it. But like the lady asked, who the hell are you?” Sam echoed Katie’s earlier sentiments.

“I’m Ant-Man.” Scott or Ant-Man answered confidently. Sam and Katie shared an incredulous look and Katie mouthed the name back to him and he shrugged. Katie lowered her gun slightly.

“Wanna tell me what you want?” She questioned Ant-Man as the man tried to explain why the two Avengers hadn’t heard of him.

Scott pointed towards a building to their left, maintaining eye contact with Katie as he spoke “I was hoping I could grab a piece of technology. Just for a few days, then I’d return it. I need it to, uh, save the world- you know how that is.”

“Yeah, we know exactly how that is,” Sam said to Scott and Katie felt her mouth twitching into a grin.

“What piece of technology, and what do you mean saving the world?” she asked.

“I’d love to tell you but Hank Pym said never to trust a Stark.” The man called Scott, or Ant-Man was almost apologetic. “Even though you’re technically a Rogers now.”

Katie frowned, she’d never heard of a Hank Pym before, but that was irrelevant now. Sam gave a sigh besides her and stepped forwards.

“We’ve located the breach.” he spoke “Bringing him in…”

“I’m really sorry about this.” Scott rushed out and as Sam reached out to him he vanished.

“What the…” Katie spun round and felt something hit her, hard in the back. She fell forward onto the gravelled surface of the roof before rolling onto her back, gun raised again just in time to see Sam flying backwards off the edge, tumbling through the air and grappling with something whilst flying over the lawns of the facility.

Katie could do nothing but stand and watch from her vantage point as Sam continued to wrestle with, then shoot at the man who could shrink and grow seemingly at will. And if she was completely honest, it was kind of entertaining to watch.

“This guy would actually be pretty useful.” Katie mused into the coms, trying but failing to hide the amusement in her voice “Are you recording this? For future, recruitment purposes obviously.”

“All over it.” Rhodey responded, a slight chuckle punctuating his confirmation.

It was when the two men crashed into the storage unit that Ant-Man had wanted to break into in the first place that she started to get concerned.

“Err do we have cameras in there?” she questioned Rhodey.

“Uh… negative.” Rhodey answered after a short pause.

“Shit.” Running to the side of the roof she scaled down the metal ladder at the side, dropping the last eight feet or so, landing gently before she ran towards the storage building. At that point Sam came crashing backwards through the metal door and Katie flung her arms up to shield her face from the debris before glancing up. Sam’s flight pattern was jerky and off and he was gripping at his pack on his back.

“He’s in my pack!” Sam shouted before he landed hard in the dirt and with a groan, pulled himself into a standing position, yanking off his goggles.

“You okay?” Katie asked as she ran over to him.

“Yeah, fine…” He sighed before he looked at her. “You know, it’s really important to me that Cap never finds out about this.”

Katie grinned and the pair of them scouted around but to no avail, there was no sign of Ant-Man, or Scott anywhere. Katie instructed Rhodey to get the door fixed and lock it down again and said she would speak to Tony to find out what was in there. Sam was luckily not hurt, just a slight bruising to his pride so Katie left him at the lab with Lawson to look at making the repairs to his pack before she headed off to get changed.

*****

Steve and Natasha landed in Sadove, Crimea and were instantly greeted by the man who was leading the investigation into the raid on the local police station. The last three out of six hits the guy had made had been on small, local outfits with less resistance than the other places he had hit but that was hardly surprising. The former SHIELD base he had hit in Mexico had been heavily guarded, which made Steve think that he had perhaps suffered losses to his team which was making him rethink his strategy. As Natasha chatted to the man in his local language, Steve hung back before the man nodded to Natasha and strode towards him.

“Captain Rogers.” he said, English thick with accent “Inspector Chernov.”

Steve shook the man’s hand “Pleasure to meet you in person Inspector.”

“So you are interested in the man who raided our local station?” “He’s been on our radar for a while.” Steve said, choosing his words carefully “But we don’t have much to go on.” “Well, I’m not sure we can help but I can take you down there and you can see for yourself.” Steve nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

It wasn’t a long drive, and once they arrived Steve and Natasha were allowed to wander round the scene undisturbed, providing they didn’t interfere with the police and teams already swamping the area. Their search showed them nothing new and they moved to watching the CCTV which the Authorities had refused to send them. They could have hacked into it, but Steve was keen to keep the tentatively growing communication lines with Crimea and Russia as amicable as possible, especially in the light of Sokovia. The Avengers were not a political party, so by remaining respectful of their requests to meet only in person he hoped it went someway to proving they were here to help and had no ulterior motives.

As such they sat in the mobile control centre, scanning the CCTV. Steve watched the footage and sighed.

“This isn’t HYDRA.” Nat concluded and Steve agreed.

“I know, it’s not their MO. This guy is too haphazard.” Steve pondered. “Just wondering why, considering how well organised he is, he is leaving so much devastation behind.”

“Minimum effort leaving maximum casualties.” Natasha said, watching the footage “He simply doesn’t care who he takes out.” “Well he’s hardly gonna care about that if he’s dealing black market arms.” Steve sighed.

They watched the footage some more and Steve held his hand up to Natasha to play it at normal speed when they reached the bit where the key perps were on screen.

“What’s he doing?” He frowned, looking at Crossbones. The man was stood in the middle of the room, looking around.

“He’s scanning for Cameras.” Nat answered as they both watched. 

There was something familiar about the way the man walked and held himself, but Steve couldn’t quite place it. As they continued the footage, Crossbones located the camera they were watching through and looked directly up at it, pulling his mask up a little to reveal his mouth, clearly saying something.

“Can you enhance that?” Steve asked. Natasha tapped at it.

It zoomed in on the man and Natasha spoke “looks like something about it being personal…”

She held her phone up to the footage and then pressed something, and the phone spoke to her in a robotic voice.

“Big Guy…I just want you to know, this aint personal.” Steve’s gut clenched. The last time he had heard those words were in an elevator in the Triskelion.

“Rogers?” Natasha looked at him, noticing the nerve which was twitching in his jaw “What is it? Does that mean something to you?”

“In a fashion.” He turned to face her. “It’s Rumlow.”

****** The interviews went well and once the photos etc were done Katie and Tony retreated to the living area of the Tower for a well-earned drink as they put the final touches of their tour together. They were to start visiting various Universities across the US to roll out their foundation grants. To ease them both in gently, the first University they were going to was Columbia, so not far from home. Tony and Pepper would be presenting and discussing to students within the School of Engineering and Applied Sciences and Katie in the School of the Arts for Students on the Writing Programme.

Their chatter moved from work to Tony asking how the Compound was going, and Katie remembered the events of that morning.

“You ever heard of a bloke called Hank Pym?” she asked suddenly.

Tony paused for a moment, frowning at her sudden change of subject, but something stirred in his mind. “The name rings a bell, hang on…FRIDAY, search all files reference Hank Pym.” He instructed, tapping at something on his tablet.

After a few seconds something flashed up in the corner of the screen.

“Yeah, here you go.” He pressed another button causing the image to reflect in front of them as a hologram. “He worked with Dad and SHIELD on a programme called Project GOLIATH.”

“What the hell was that?” Katie asked, taking a pull from her bottle.

“A research programme into some kind of Nano particle.” Tony said as the pair of them simultaneously ran through the information on the screen.

“Ahhhh.” Katie nodded, “makes sense…” “What does?”

Katie explained about the encounter with Scott and Tony gave a hum of agreement. 

“That could actually be kinda useful.”

“I know.” she agreed “But he vanished after he got whatever he wanted. Any thoughts on what it could be?”

“That facility holds a load of crap that was Dad’s” Tony said simply “Could be anything.”

“Well, nothing we could see was missing, but it might be worth you taking a look.” she suggested.

He shrugged “I can do, but there was nothing remotely dangerous in there. Was just a load of old signal jammers and code breakers we don’t really need anymore.”

“Well, I did try and ask what him what it was he wanted, you know, on account of him saying he was saving the world, maybe we could have helped with that, being the Avengers and all, but he simply turned round and said ‘Hank Pym told me never to trust a Stark’.”

She drained her bottle of beer as Tony did the same and he stood up, taking the empties to retrieve 2 more from the fridge.

“Clearly one of many in the long line of people dad pissed off.” Tony rolled his eyes as he popped the lids, before he sighed “I’m actually surprised no one tried to kill him before, you know, he rammed their car into a tree.”

Katie looked at her brother and swallowed. Tony had no idea how close to the truth he was.

“Sorry.” he slid the beer across the bar, mistaking her guilty silence for one of upset “That was out of order.”

“For all his faults I don’t think Dad was a bad man.” Katie spoke quietly “And he did love us.”

“I know.” Tony nodded, squeezing her hand.

She stayed for another drink and then headed home. She had checked in with Sam before heading back to their apartment and she was settled on the couch with a glass of wine when Steve called.

“Hey Soldier.” she said, smiling at the screen as she flicked the phone to project the image in front of her, muting the TV.

“Hey Darlin’.” He smiled back

“So, how was it?” she asked

“Well we got the intel.” 

“Solid?”

“Pretty solid yeah.” Natasha spoke, appearing by his side. “We think we know who he is anyway.” “Who?”

Steve sighed. “It’s Rumlow.” “What?” Katie spluttered into her wine glass. “Are you sure?”

“Oh pretty sure.” Steve nodded. “He left me a clear message.”

“Steve recognised him on the Video so I ran a crosscheck.” Nat picked up. “Turns out he was listed as severely injured and was taken to the hospital. After that, our trail runs cold.” 

“Until now.” Katie sighed.

“We’ve also got a list of his associates, some known faces he’s been seen with.” Steve shrugged “So we’re putting out an alert.”

“Doesn’t give us much to go on though.” Katie rubbed at her temples.

“When have we ever had much to go on?” Natasha asked and Katie shrugged

“Fair point.” she conceded as Natasha moved off out of sight.

“So how has your day been?” Katie looked back at Steve as he spoke.

“Not bad actually.” she said, “Interviews went well, oh, and we had a bit of an incident at base before.” “Incident?” he frowned, “What kind of incident?”

“Attempted break in, nothing major.”

“Everyone ok?”

“Yeah, honestly it was no big deal, I’ll fill you in on when you get home. For the rest of the day once the interviews were done Tony and I drank beer.”

“Sounds pretty productive.” Steve raised an eyebrow, smile playing on his lips.

“Beer is always productive.” Katie informed him and he chuckled.

“We’ll be airborne in thirty minutes and then we should be home in about four hours.” He said, as Katie looked at her watch. It was almost 8:30 pm. 

“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you.”

“And you.” She blew him a kiss and cut the call with a yawn. She was tired. Really tired, so she headed off for a bath. After soaking and listening to music for forty minutes she dried off and shoved on one of Steve’s T-shirts before climbing into bed and laying there for a moment, flicking through the TV channels. She settled on an episode of Family Guy and snuggled down into the large bed, wrapping herself in the soft covers. It always felt odd sleeping without Steve being there. Sometimes she quite enjoyed being able to starfish in the middle of the Emperor sized bed but tonight she wasn’t enjoying being alone.

****

Steve was whacked when they arrived home. Bidding good night to Natasha, instead of changing in the armoury he headed straight back and let himself into their quarters. Crossing the hallway he made his way into the bedroom he paused, a gentle smile spreading on his face. Illuminated in the light from the hallway he could see Katie was curled up in the middle of the bed, using his pillow as a hugging buddy. He quietly crossed the room and perched on the bed, stripping off his boots and uniform top. He paused slightly as Katie stirred and he turned to look at her, gently brushing her hair of her face. He glanced down at the freckles he knew by memory, long thick lashes, soft pink lips, that familiar Stark nose…she looked so peaceful asleep.

She stirred again, and that nose he adored wrinkled in the way it did when she was waking up and she cracked an eye open before her face split into a smile at the sight of her husband.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby girl.” He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you”

“It’s Okay.” She yawned, leaning into his touch.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” He asked, and through the tiny sliver of light coming from the hallway Katie could see his eyes were full of their usual warmth.

“I don’t think you did today, no.”

“Well in that case, you’re beautiful” He smiled and she chuckled slightly as he dropped a soft kiss on her head. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll be right with you.”

She watched him appreciatively as he stood up and pulled his compression-shirt over his head, leaving him bare form the waist up as he headed into the en-suite. For a moment she was tempted to join him, but then decided against it, laying back onto her side, dozing.

It wasn’t long before the bed dipped and she felt him slide under the covers next to her. She turned over to snuggle up into the crook of his shoulder, her head laying on his chest.

“So, you wanna tell what the incident was today?” he asked, his right hand reaching up to play with the strands of her hair that fell over her shoulder.

“Oh yeah.” she grinned before she launched into an explanation about Scott-slash-Ant Man. He fell silent for a moment but in the end came to the same conclusion as Tony had, there was nothing in there that was dangerous so they just needed to remain vigilant.

“Yeah, well Sam seemed to be taking vigilant to the extreme as he’s already been on the phone to numerous contracts, trying to track him down.” she said “I think he’s a bit annoyed the guy basically kicked his ass. Rhodey caught it all on video but Sam told me never to tell you about it. He’s taken it quite personally.” “I’m not surprised, he had his ass kicked.” Steve sniggered. “Where do I get a copy of the CCTV?”

Katie grinned, “I have it on my phone, Rhodey sent it to me.”

“Play it.” he instructed.

“What now?” “Yes, right now.” he nodded, moving so he was sat up, jolting her off his chest.

“No Sam will kill me!” she laughed, propping herself up on her elbow

“Screw Sam!” he snorted “He plays those damned Phys Ed videos every chance he gets.”

“That’s true.” Katie pondered “Ok, hang on…”

She turned, reaching over for the phone and the TV remote. Blinking at the sudden light, once her eyes were accustomed to the change she pressed a few buttons on her phone and beamed the footage to the TV on the wall. She had to admit, it looked even funnier from the video play back than it had when she had been there.

Steve let out a huge, genuine laugh, his head thrown back, banging against the headboard, arm clutched across his chest as he laughed, and laughed.

“I’m so showing that at our next briefing.” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“You can’t…” “Oh, I can!”

****

The next morning the pair of them made their way to the briefing room both munching on a piece of toast and each carrying a mug of coffee. It was early, before 8, but Steve wanted the team to be prepared. Everyone filed into the room along with some good humoured grumbling about the time before they dropped into their preferred seats and looked to the front of the room.

“I know it’s early and I’m sorry…” Steve held his hands up, looking round at the team assembled in front of him “But this is important.”

“More important than sleep?” Sam yawned.

Steve ignored him. “Alright, here’s what we already know.”  Steve began to explain how they believed Rumlow to be Crossbones, the masked man who had been causing a whole lot of chaos in the wake of what happened at the Triskelion. Katie knew he was annoyed at himself for not realising he had survived sooner, but even if they had, they’d so much going on, not to mention Ultron had been a much bigger threat in the immediate future

"He’s been targeting former SHIELD labs and police stations all over the country and selling products on the black market.” Natasha spoke.

“Police stations?” Katie asked.

“We think he suffered heavy losses at the raid prior to the last three, so he’s going for easier targets whilst he regroups.” Natasha answered.

“Still no intel on who his buyers are?” Wanda asked.

“No.” Steve shook his head, “He seems to have become an independent terrorist, and doesn’t appear to be working for anyone”

“Our recon yesterday told us that Rumlow seems to be operating with this guy.” Natasha explained as the photos flashed up “He’s known as the Black Mamba…” “Black Mamba?” Wanda deadpanned. “Cross Bones and Black Mamba?”

“NATO has every available pair of eyes out looking for them.”  Steve ignored Wanda and looked at Rhodey.

“Soon as they break cover, we’ll know.” Rhodey nodded

“So then what?” Sam frowned

“More recon?” Katie asked

Steve looked at his wife and nodded. “Possibly, but for now we need to let intelligence do their job. But be prepared, when we get a lead I want to be ready to go.”

There were mumbles around the room and Steve let the team lead the discussion. Sam commented on the crap code names again, causing Wanda to laugh. Katie suggested they should compile a detailed profile on Rumlow, see if they could find a pattern to his behaviour, nodding to Vision. the AI had a knack for it as did Katie, so Steve and Natasha nodded, both agreeing it was a good idea.

“We need to be vigilant.” Steve instructed. “Keep our eyes open for anything that’s out of the ordinary.” He caught Katie’s eye, a wicked smirk crossed his face and she shook her head smiling as he continued “Speaking of which…FRIDAY, play the video”

“Certainly Captain Rogers.” The pictures of Rumlow and Black Mamba disappeared from the screen and suddenly the footage of Sam spiralling through the air started to play. The room started to snigger as Sam looked at Katie who held her hands up in an “it wasn’t me!” gesture.

“Oh come on Man!” He groaned as the room gleefully watched the film, laughter ringing round the room.

******

The next four months ticked by with no further information on Rumlow. They pulled together a potted history which tracked the hospital he had been in, when he had escaped (the local authorities had been searching for him for ages since he threatened his nurse upon waking before violently breaking out) his movements since (ones they knew about and some they hadn’t) but it didn’t give them anything new.

Katie and Tony were buried deeply in their Foundation work, which was taking up a lot of Katie’s time so she wasn’t as close to the investigations as she could have been. Steve was fine with that though, the further away she was from Rumlow frankly the better, but he still made sure she was involved with what they had found and she attended the briefings as best she could when she wasn’t travelling the country. Steve’s chest burst with pride every time he saw his girl on the news, in papers, as the press seemed to be lavishing praise upon the siblings for what they were doing. 

Then, one day in the middle of May, they struck gold when one of the Facial Recognition Alerts they had set up pinged to Black Mamba being spotted in a Lagos, Nigeria. As a result Steve had scrambled them all to attention as soon as he could, which was four am. But there were no complaints about the time, not when they knew this could be their chance to bring him in. They all pitched round the screen as Steve and Natasha identified the local police station that they suspected of him hitting, given where the FR had pinged several times.

“We think they are scoping this area.” Nat said, drawing a red circle round a part of the town.

Katie moved the screen with her fingers, enlarging the aerial shots as she looked at them, her analytical brain going ten to the dozen.

“Layout looks pretty standard.” she said, scanning the map, frowning slightly. Something was nagging at her. And as she looked, she realised what it was.

“What is it?” Steve asked, recognising the tone of her voice and frown on her face.

“The Science Institute.” She nodded towards the screen. “Big white building at the end of the road.”

“Biological weapons are big on the black market.” Sam cottoned on, nodding slightly.

“Yeah but his recent previous hits and our pattern analysis don’t give us any reason to believe that’s what he’s going to be aiming for.” Nat suggested

“You said yourself that you suspected he was going for easier targets whilst he regrouped.” Katie bit her lip. “What if he has?”

“We have to assume Rumlow will go for the police station, it’s the best intel we have.” Steve looked at her and he noticed the expression on Katie’s face as she crossed her arms and opened her mouth to argue. “But we should be vigilant, keep alert.”

She exchanged a glance with Sam, who simply shrugged

“We do this with stealth.” Steve continued, “I want us on the ground and out of sight, we need to catch him with as little fuss or danger to civilians as possible”

"Yeah, and with that in mind Viz you may need to sit this one out.” Nat tossed out and Vision nodded deprecatingly

“We’re still working on him blending in.” Wanda added.

“Same for you too Rhodey.” Steve looked at him “We need someone back here, we could be gone a few days.”

Rhodey nodded. “No problem Cap.” “Get what you need. Wheels up in twenty.” Steve dismissed everyone who immediately went their separate ways to prepare for the upcoming mission leaving Katie, Natasha and Steve alone

“You think she’s ready?” Natasha looked at Steve, nodding to Wanda. He took a deep breath, staring at the door through which she had just left with Vision.

“You say she’s been training hard.” He spoke after a moments pause, looking at Nat.

“Yeah, she has but her powers are still largely impacted by her emotions.”

“Aren’t everyone’s?” Katie asked. “I mean I’m angry or upset I fight harder, as you know.” “Yeah but,” Nat sighed “It isn’t the same, she can do a lot of damage.”

“We have the bare bones of a team as it is.” Steve shook his head and Katie looked down, feeling slightly guilty. She had discussed this with Steve, she wasn’t going. The Stark Foundation Tour had another few visits to Universities this week. Steve spotted the look on her face and he gently nudged her arm “That’s not a criticism honey…” “I know…” she bit her lip. Maybe she should postpone…

“Throw in the fact that this is the first full team mission we’ve had since Ultron and I don’t see any choice but to take Wanda” Steve shrugged, ending the conversation.

Nat took a deep breath and nodded “You’re right. And maybe being in an actual mission environment might help her gain some control, I mean practice makes perfect.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked, eyeing her

“Both.” she drawled, heading out of the door.

Katie took a deep breath as Steve turned to her. “You best go.” she smiled softly. Steve bit his lip before he pulled her into an embrace, kissing her softly.

“I’ll call as soon as I can.” He promised, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Stay safe, please.” She whispered as he kissed the tip of her nose and hurried out of the door.

Once he was gone, Katie sank onto a chair, her head in her hands. She was torn, really torn. For the last year or so, post Ultron, they’d had a pretty quiet time of it, mopping up any stray Hydra operatives that strolled into their patch. But this, this was big. Was the Foundation really more important than putting a halt to whatever shitty plan Rumlow was trying to pull off? She was still an Avenger after all, she’d never quit that, and would never quit that.

She’d always be Supernova, whether she wanted to be or not.

“I’m gonna regret this.” She groaned to herself as she jumped up, and headed after the rest of the team.

*****

Steve, at first, had tried to argue against her coming but when Natasha had pointed out they could do with the support he had relented and the team had been bolstered by Supernova’s return to active duty.

Their support staff had done a great job on such a short time, and rented the group a four bedroomed apartment overlooking the street the Police Station was on. It wasn’t fancy, but it was the last place anyone would think would house Avengers. They spent their first day setting up a command centre, with coms links back to base and the next morning they began their recon.

The first two days were completely uneventful. No sign of Rumlow or any of his associates. Nat was the expert at covert ops and so she took the lead, directing them to all the right places coaching Wanda along the way and Steve was pleasantly surprised to see how well the younger girl took to the task, blending in with the locals. Katie took to observing from up high with Sam, her attention on the Biological Institute, unable to shake the nagging feeling she had about the place. She hadn’t mentioned it since their brief a few days ago, but Steve knew when she had an idea in her head she wouldn’t rest so he left her to it. Between them they had the area covered, which was good enough.

On the evening of the fourth day Wanda, Sam and Natasha headed out for a little undercover work in the bars at night, “So you guys can have a little undercover activity of your own” Sam teasingly stated, patting Steve on the back as he left, drawing an exasperated sigh from the Soldier. Nevertheless, the door had hardly clicked shut before Steve had his wife pinned up against a wall, hands wandering all over her body, lips and teeth clashing, her hand fisting in the slightly longer strands of hair at the top of his head as they’d furiously taken advantage of their first time alone in days.

The next morning Katie woke at about five-forty-five am and rolled over only to find the bed empty besides her. Steve could never rest when they were in the middle of a case like this. The clothes they had shed and left scattered all over the floor the night before were now folded and placed on top of the dresser, and she had to smile. Even now he was a total neat freak. Knowing full well where he would be she climbed out of the bed, pulled on Steve’s T-shirt and a pair of shorts before making her way into the dark corridor. She stopped in the doorway of the small dining room which was functioning as a makeshift office and sure enough, there he was, the lamp softly illuminated his handsome face as he flicked through a file, crease evident between his brows.

“Soldier, you’re up so early.” She said gently. Steve had heard her coming of course. Smiling softly, as he was always pleased to see her, he turned to face her as she crossed the room.

“Yeah, sorry, I woke about half an hour ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“You know, I get that you’re fed up of just waiting but sitting here re-reading all this isn’t going to help you know.” Katie sighed, taking the file off him and dropping it onto the wooden table, before she perched on the edge.

“I know, it’s just so goddamned frustrating.” Steve ran his hand over his face. After pondering for a moment Katie stood up and walked behind the chair and placed her hands on his shoulders. He let out a groan of satisfaction and leaned back in his seat as she kneaded the muscles with her hands. She found a particularly bad spot just under his shoulder blade and began to push harder with her thumb. Steve, unable to decide if it was pleasurable or painful, made a little noise which was half way between the two.

“God your shoulders are so knotty.” Katie mused and he left out a breath through his nose moving his head to the side.

“Yeah well, I did a lot of exercise last night.” He quipped back as her hands continued to work at his shoulders.

“I’ll say.” She grinned. “You know that thing you did with your mouth is actually illegal in several countries.” “Good job we live in the land of the free.” His voice was low as he fully relaxed under her touch.  Katie carried on working at his muscles in silence for a moment, happy to let him bliss out. 

“So… answer me a question?” She spoke after a short while, rousing him a little, and he hummed, unable to bring himself to be bothered to talk.

“If you couldn’t sleep why didn’t you wake me to help you?” Her voice was loaded as she leaned forward to wind her arms around his neck, running her hands up and down his chest from behind. Steve loved it when she touched him like that which was why he pouted slightly when she pulled away, but the pout didn’t last long and a smirk crossed his face as Katie walked round to the front of his chair

“And how, exactly, would you have done that?” His hands moved to rest on her hips as she lowered herself so that she was straddling him. She slid one of her hands around the back of his head to tangle in his hair the other settling on his chest.

“Reckon I can think of a few ways.”  She smirked slyly before using her hand in his hair to pull him forward and connect their lips. Steve kissed her back immediately as one hand crept up the back of her top, the other on the side of her thigh, sliding up her shorts.

“Sleepy yet?” She murmured.

“Not exactly the word I would use.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

She grinned and then began to rock her hips on top of him grinding down on his growing hardness and he sighed slightly, kissing her harder as she pushed down again. With an automatic reaction he raised his hips, rocking up to meet her and this time she groaned as she could feel the friction of their clothes grinding against her clit. His hands were now firmly holding her hips underneath her, no, his top, and he sat forward so his mouth could cover the spot under her ear that drove her wild. With a soft sigh she titled her head to the side as he trailed kisses across her jaw until his mouth met her lips again. His hands reached down to grasp the hem of her top and he had just begun to slide it upwards when they were interrupted by a raspy voice.

“I thought all the making out fully clothed supposedly stopped when you reached the age of seventeen.” Natasha scoffed from the doorway. Katie looked up over Steve’s shoulder as he sighed, dropping his head onto her chest, letting out a groan of frustration.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” Katie sighed.

“Don’t you know how to lock a door?” She retorted, dryly.

“I take it this isn’t a social call?” Steve’s voice was muffled as he spoke into his wife’s chest, not bothering to move his head. Katie chuckled a little, her hand running through his hair.

“Half and half.” Natasha arched an eyebrow, “Unsociable hour it maybe but Wanda’s already up and wants breakfast, she was going to head out to the local bakery but I thought it might be an idea to start the re-con early.”

Steve’s head looked up to Katie’s as she shifted off his lap and straightened out her clothing and hair. Steve glanced down at his crotch and Katie raised an eyebrow slightly as he stood up and adjusted his sweats in an attempt to hide his slowly ebbing arousal before he turned to face the red head.

“Well, you’re the expert in this covert stuff.” He raised his brow. “What have you got in mind?”

*****

“All right, what do you see?” Steve was coaxing Wanda, as ever, to observe her surroundings, see and hear everything, on the job training he supposed you could call it.

Meanwhile, Katie glanced down from the rooftop on which Sam and her were currently stood, her scanners doing their usual work. No weapons spotted yet.

“Standard beat cops. Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target” Wanda’s voice came through the ear piece Steve was wearing.

“There’s an ATM in the South Corner.” he replied “which means….”

“Cameras” Wanda said instantly.

“Both cross streets are one way.” He carried on

“So, compromised escape routes.”

“Means our guy doesn’t care about being seen, he isn’t afraid to make a mess on the way out.” Steve concluded. “You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute”

“It’s also bulletproof,” Katie cut in as FRIDAY completed a scan on the vehicle “Which means private security…”

“Which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us” Nat finished

“You guys know I can move things with my mind, right? “ Wanda replied

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.” Natasha continued

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a little paranoid?” Sam asked and Katie turned to look at him, retracting her face plate to give him a grin.

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” the exchange continued.

“Eyes on target, folks” Steve spoke firmly with an air of authority, bringing them back to the job in hand. “This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

“If he sees us coming that won’t be a problem. He kind of hates us.” Sam replied

As Steve watched he noticed that a garbage truck was slowly pushing its way through traffic, with no regard to pedestrians or other vehicles. He frowned and kept his eyes on it as it continued to gather momentum as it went.  

“Sam, Katie…see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

Sam’s small drone launched, swooping down to scan the vehicle as Katie instructed FRIDAY to do the same.

“Give me X-ray.” Sam spoke. There was a pause before he gave a little moan. “That truck’s loaded for max weight.”

“And the driver’s armed.” Katie concluded.

And in that second it dawned on Steve that his wife had been right all along. The Institute was the target after all.

“It’s a battering ram.” Katie’s voice mumbled on the coms, clearly having realised the same thing he had, and with that Steve turned from the window, running for the door.

“Go, now!” He yelled into his coms as he sprinted down the stairs. “There not hitting the station…” “The institute…” Sam spoke as Steve burst onto the street looking up in time to see Falcon and Supernova spiralling into the air.

And once more the fight was on.

**** Chapter 29 Part 1

**Original Posting**

[hslllot]

Part I. Draft Day

fic masterlist | rated: m, mature | word count: 4.6k content/warning: hockey harry, nosey family members, a very brief mention of anxiety, overzealous hockey stans. 

DRAFT REPORT: The 411 on Harry Styles by John Michaelson for Sportsnet

There’s this kid named Harry Styles. He plays hockey. Ever heard of him? 

At this point there’s not much else to be said about the british Fighting Hawks’ centre, a lock to be the No.1 pick in the 2015 NHL Draft. 

Dubbed a generational talent, Styles’ abilities are at a level typically only seen in video games. We all know the Edmonton Oilers will select him with the first overall pick on June 26. In years to come, hockey fans from around the globe (but especially Oilers fans) will be on the edge of their seats, watching to see if the phenom can develop into a future Hockey Hall of Fame talent the way Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux did. 

Here’s what you need to know about Harry Styles: 

Age on June 26: 19 Birthplace: Redditch, Worcestershire, England Current team: University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks  Position: Centre Shoots: Left Height: 6-foot Weight: 190 lbs NHL Central Scouting Rank (North American): 1st

Harry Styles is a franchise-changing player in every sense of the word. He looked like a pro player even before he flew across the pond at a young age to play in the Canadian Hockey League. This has been a long time coming but the future is finally here.

He is talented beyond his years and always has been… Styles has played against older competition his entire career. Growing up in the small village of Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, England, the options for minor hockey teams were limited. Styles struggled to find a team in his age group that matched his talent level and was forced to play with older kids - and even then his talent was unmatched. Like the two other players from the UK currently playing in the NHL, Styles eventually had to leave home and play junior hockey in Canada, where he still had to play up a year against Canadian kids that grew up in a country that eats, sleeps, and breathes the game. 

He should have been drafted 1st overall last year… Styles shocked the hockey world in 2013 when, instead of declaring for the 2014 NHL Draft, he announced he would be attending the University of North Dakota and lead the Fighting Hawks to an NCAA Championship. Styles, ever the media-trained athlete, dodged questions about why he chose to go to university for a year before joining the NHL, simply stating “University was always a part of the plan, no matter what happened with hockey.” The hockey community let out a collective sigh of relief when his agent, Jeffrey Azoff (whose father was, coincidentally, Wayne Gretzky’s agent), announced shortly after his championship win that after one year at UND, Styles would be declaring for the 2015 Draft. 

His trophy case is full... Harry Styles has won pretty much every individual hockey award he could possibly win in his career so far. During his CHL career with the Vancouver Giants he won Rookie of the Year, multiple MVP awards, the award for most goals, assists, and overall points, and scholastic player of the year. During his short-lived NCAA career with UND, he won Rookie of the Year, the Hobey Baker Award as the top men’s hockey player, and was named to the Academic All-American team. Unfortunately, Great Britain’s ice hockey team will not be qualifying for the Olympics or the World Championships any time soon, so unless Styles applies for Canadian citizenship, international trophies and medals will be difficult to come by. Regardless, I have a feeling that there will be many Stanley Cups in his future. 

He really hates underperforming… The kid puts a lot of pressure on himself. As we have seen with many successful athletes, an insatiable inner drive to compete can lead to greatness. Styles has that drive to be great and can be his own worst critic. “When I was growing up, my mum was worried about me because I was a bit of a perfectionist.” Styles told The Hockey News back in December. “When I had a bad game, I would get so upset about it. It’s just how I am and how I think every athlete should be. Good is never enough. It’s important to always keep learning and growing to better yourself.”

He is excited to play for the Oilers… Not that he would have anything bad to say about any of the 30 NHL teams, but the Oilers do hold a special place in Styles’ heart. “It’s a great hockey town with fans that are super passionate about the game.” He told The Hockey News. “They’ve been on a bit of a slide the last couple years but the team has a great history. Not many people watch the NHL where I’m from, but my dad was always interested in it and that’s how I got into the game. He was an Oilers fan during their dynasty years with Gretzky and Messier… So if they do end up drafting me first overall, I’ll feel honored to be a part of the team, and it’ll be a nice tribute to my dad.” 

Be sure to catch our live 2015 NHL Draft coverage on June 26 starting at 5pm EST/2pm PT only on Sportsnet.

“With the first overall pick in the 2015 NHL Entry Draft the Edmonton Oilers are proud to select, from Holmes Chapel in England, Harry Styles.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and applause as the Edmonton Oilers drafted the National Hockey League’s newest and most sought after commodity. 

Y/N’s closest friends and extended family roamed around her parents’ living room, congratulating one another with hugs and handshakes like one of their own family members was just drafted. That wasn’t the case though, they were all just deeply invested in the hockey team and the boy from England that was meant to turn things around after so many years of losing. They were so invested, in fact, that the family organized a gathering similar to something you might see on a holiday, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

While it was not a normal holiday, for Y/N’s family it was just as significant. It was Draft Day. And every hockey fan in North America wanted Harry Styles to play for their team.

“That’s quite the suit, isn’t it?” Her uncle Will pointed to the television where the young man is dressed in an ornate red floral suit and black dress shirt. The suit was flashier than what most hockey players would wear, but it’s clear that Harry Styles is not like most hockey players. The camera panned to him as he stood up from his seat and hugged the two brunette women sitting next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb among a sea of other young hockey players all dressed in variations of black and grey as they patiently waited to be drafted from the stands of the BB&T Centre in Florida. It was clear to Y/N that, much like his hockey skills, Harry Styles’ fashion sense was superior compared to his peers.

There was an air of excitement in the room as the draft party, all clad in blue and orange jerseys, watched the generational talent walk down the stairs of the arena and make his way to the stage. They collectively held their breath, the room becoming silent, when he arrived at the stage where both the owner and general manager of the team were waiting to greet him. Harry shook their hands before they handed him his own blue and orange jersey. As he slipped the jersey over his head and posed for a photograph with the executives, the silence in the room broke and excited conversations and speculations for the upcoming season continued. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a stir in her belly and a sense of anticipation for what the upcoming hockey season would bring. 

Her thoughts lingered on the man on the screen, wondering what it might be like to meet him, when her brother pulled her out of her reverie. “Can you believe you’ll be working with the Harry Styles?” 

No - she couldn’t quite believe it. 

In fact, everything happening in her life right now seemed a bit too good to be true.

Set to start her third year of university in September and having to complete mandatory practicum hours in order to graduate the following year, she somehow managed to secure a placement with her favourite hockey team. The Oilers were only taking three students from the university program and everyone in the program wanted one of those spots. 

The application process was incredibly stressful for Y/N. One telephone interview, one in-person interview, and a practical session where she had to demonstrate her athletic therapy skills to the team’s head trainer. She did well with the phone interview, given that they weren’t able to see her. She was able to look down at the talking points she wrote in her notebook and pause to take a couple deep breaths without making it obvious that she was reeling on the inside. Her anxiety got the best of her during the in-person interview though, freezing up when they asked simple questions like “why do you want to work for the team?” and “what experience do you have working with sport teams?”

She left the interview feeling embarrassed, but instead of taking the time to wallow and feel sorry for herself, she went home and spent hours upon hours taping her brothers’ ankles in preparation for the practical session the following day. There was no way she was going to let the opportunity fall through the cracks. Her dream of working for the Oilers was the whole reason she decided to go to school for athletic therapy in the first place. She was never any good at playing hockey but she knew in her heart that, someday, she would work for the team she loved so much. At the end of it all, she reckons her taping skills saved her, so she took her brother out to his favourite restaurant to thank him for letting her use his ankles for practice.

Fast forward a few months and she’s now stood in her parents living room thinking about how in three months she could be taping Harry Styles’ ankles.  

At the time of her application, no one knew the Oilers would be picking first in the draft. The aura around the team was a bit negative at the time (because of all the losing) and there were rumours circulating the city that some of the star players were rude to the support staff and liked to party a little too hard at The Ranch (which contributed to said losing). 

When she first decided to apply for the position her father warned her, “there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. What if they’re all a bunch of assholes and you end up hating the team you’ve loved your whole life?” 

Y/N ignored her father’s warning but silently hoped that others would feel that way, narrowing down the applicant pool. However, the rumours circulating the team had no effect on the amount of students applying for the job. The fans were loyal in Edmonton (a city not known by many around the world unless you follow hockey or are compelled to visit North America’s largest shopping mall) and although the team was losing, every kid studying athletic therapy wanted a shot with their favourite team. Y/N knew of at least fifteen students that she beat out for the position. 

Now, it’s late June and there is a general hype surrounding the team, as if Harry was about to come in and shine a light on the Decade of Darkness (a term Oilers fans use to characterize the recent years in which their favourite team hadn’t made the playoffs). That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Y/N supposed that he’s been dealing with this kind of pressure since he was sixteen, maybe even younger. 

Everyone at her family’s draft party was, yet again, watching the television intently while Harry gave his first interview as an official member of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. While Y/N normally loved watching these types of interviews, she was a bit zoned out- mesmerized by the look of him. The suit, the wavy chestnut hair, the dimple in his left cheek, the accent. The accent. She had never really been that attracted to hockey players, which many people found hard to believe given that she’s such a fan of the sport. All of the guys from her high school who played minor hockey were rotten and thought they were better than everyone else. She did have favourite players in the NHL, players that she loved and admired, but they were her favourites because she loves how they play the game, not because she wants to fuck them. 

There was something different about Harry Styles though. Not necessarily that she wanted to fuck him (especially since she recently signed an employment contract that would forbid it), but she was certainly feeling intrigued by him. He doesn’t look like the boys she went to high school with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s British, or that he opted for a suit that set him apart from the rest of them, or maybe it was the duality of the way he held himself with unshakeable confidence in his floral suit, his gaze set intensely on the person interviewing him, posture strong and dominant, while simultaneously speaking so softly, his words laced with kindness and gratitude.

“When do you start working with the team, Y/N?” Her uncle Will asked from across the room, prompting everyone to look in her direction waiting for her response. 

The news that Y/N would be working for the Oilers this season shook the family. As soon as her dad shared the news with his brother, she started receiving messages expressing congratulations from her many aunts, uncles, and cousins, shortly followed by messages asking if she would be getting free tickets to games. 

“Um, mid-September, for training camp.” 

“You get to meet Harry Styles?” her 9 year old cousin, Billy, asked. 

“I do. I will be one of the team’s trainers.” The young boy held a look of wonder on his face, as if realizing for the first time that that his oldest cousin was actually kind of cool. 

“Do you think he’s single?” Her aunt Maria asked with a smirk on her face, turning to the television to look at Harry Styles. Aunt Maria doesn’t care much for hockey but she never failed to mention which players she believed to be handsome. She was also the nosey type of aunt that liked to inquire about Y/N’s dating life. “Maybe you two will hit it off.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at her aunt, waving off her comment. But before she could retort, her father chimed in. “Ha! Yea, right! That’s not going to happen. She’s not allowed to date anyone on the team, it’s the rules. Plus, Y/N knows better than to get involved with any of these guys.” 

Her father was right. It is the rules. Y/N thought back to when she went into the Oilers headquarters back in April to sign her employment contract. She asked a lot of questions, making sure she understood everything about the document she was signing. 

“Personal relationships? Even friendships are forbidden?” she asked the head trainer, TJ, for clarification. 

“It depends. You can be friendly, sure, but I would avoid spending time with the players outside of training and game times. Could be seen as unprofessional.”  

Y/N understood why such rules were in place, and she had no issue with it at the time. A woman securing a position on a professional sports team was rare, let alone a woman securing a position with a professional men’s team. She knew when she chose this career path that it would always be an uphill battle and that she’d have to work harder and be more strategic than the men in her field. She wanted- no, needed to excel and prove that she could be a talented athletic therapist and a valuable member of the team, so she had no intention whatsoever of messing that up with any type of personal relationships. She also understood the power dynamic between the professional athletes and the support staff, the different ways in which power can be abused, and how personal relationships could complicate things. It all made sense to her. Plus, she was happy enough with just becoming friends with the other trainers and she probably wouldn’t have a lot of free time, anyways, balancing her practicum and her school work.

Today, however, she couldn’t help the very slight pull on her heartstrings at the thought of not getting to know Harry Styles on a more personal level. 

As if he’d even be interested in the first place.

In a hotel restaurant in Sunrise, Florida, a few hours after the draft, Harry Styles sat with his mother Anne, sister Gemma, and agent Jeff, celebrating his newly drafted status over a bottle of champagne. He knew he should be feeling elated, like it was the best day of his life, but all he felt was exhausted. The conversation at the table happened around him while he sat in his own head, unable to think about anything but what it might feel like to be tucked into his bed in his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel. 

The weeks leading up to the draft were an absolute circus filled with interviews and talking to the media nearly every day (he hates talking to the media), shooting promo for all of his endorsements (he’s thankful for the money they give him but he knows he is an excruciatingly terrible actor), and flying around North America to visit all of the potential cities where he might be drafted (it was a pointless tour because everyone knew where he was going to end up). 

He had only tonight to celebrate with his family before it was all set to start again. Him and Jeff will fly off to Edmonton tomorrow morning for a week to speak to the media there, meet the teammate he’ll be living with, and do a surprise skating session with some kids at a summer camp. Meanwhile, his mum and sister will fly back to England.

“Any idea where you’ll live then?” Anne asked her son, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the conversation. 

“Hm?” He hadn’t a clue what his mum just asked him but he’d hate to admit that rather than listening to anything the three of them had been talking about for the last hour he’d been thinking about how he’d rather be sleeping “Sorry, I think the champagne’s got to me a bit.” 

“The team’s got him living with one of his older teammates and his family.” Jeff stepped in, knowing Harry wasn’t fully paying attention. “They do this with the young guys to get them used to living on their own. Teach ‘em how to cook, do laundry, and keep ‘em in line. He won’t be partying every night and bringing girls back to his place if he lives with the guy’s wife and kids.” 

“Oh please,” Gemma chimed in. “Not like any of that would be an issue for Harry. He’s been away from home for years. And he’s hardly got time for partying and dating.” 

Harry shot Jeff a look warning him to keep his mouth shut. When Harry found out about the living arrangements the team had planned for him, he was less than pleased. After all, he’d just spent the last year living in a dorm room at the University of North Dakota where he had complete freedom. Gemma was right, he didn’t have much time for partying and dating. But he liked having his own space, and he really liked being able to invite someone over after a game, either to celebrate a win or relieve some stress after a loss. 

“You never know, some of these young guys get their first big pay cheque and a taste of the big leagues and it can go off the rails pretty fast.”

“I like to think I raised my baby to know better than to get caught up in a pay cheque.” Anne placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder and he quickly reciprocated, reaching up to place his hand over hers.  

Not liking where this conversation was going, Harry finally cut in. “You did. And Jeffrey, you know I’m not that kinda guy. Either way, none of this matters if I don’t make it past training camp. For all we know I could be going back to the juniors for the season.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are or what kinda guy you are, H, it’s just what the team does. It’s tradition. And c’mon, I know you like to keep your expectations in check, but the team’s made it pretty clear that you’re gonna be in the starting lineup come October.” 

Jeff was right. The team had all but promised that he would make it past training camp. The question wasn’t if he’d make it past training camp, but in what shape he’d be in and how long it would take for the team to start winning games.  

“The coach said I’m small and need to bulk up, especially since I’ll be playing against older, more experienced men.” Harry could feel the weight of his mum’s gaze as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not quite where I need to be yet, but I’ll get there.”

Harry and his family were stood in the hotel lobby with Jeff, convening on plans for the morning when he felt a small tug on the hem of his red floral suit jacket. He spun himself around, ready to confront the individual bold enough to touch him without his consent, to find a young girl, no older than five years old staring up at him. 

Harry looked at her, a bit taken aback and undoubtedly with a bit of confusion written on his face, and then spotted, a few feet behind her, two individuals who were most likely her parents. Suddenly, he realized that he may have actually had a few too many glasses of champagne and immediately tried to compose himself, standing straighter and trying to will away the exhaustion in his eyes and the haziness in his mind. 

“Oh - um, hello there.” He cleared his throat before using the soft voice he reserves for adorable, small children like the one stood before him. 

“Are you Harry Styles?” She asked with wide eyes and a small, timid voice.

“I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?” 

A bright smile etched itself onto her face. But instead of answering him, she looked back at the adults standing behind her, motioning for them to help as she was too shy to proceed on her own. The man, who Harry presumed was her father, moved to stand beside her. 

“This is Millie. She wanted to say hi to you because she’s a big fan of yours.” 

Harry lowered himself in front of the young girl so that he was crouched down and eye-level with her. “Hi Millie, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He reached out to shake the young girl’s small hand. “Have you got anything that I could sign? Or I suppose we could take a photo if you’d like?” 

The young girl removed her hand from Harry’s, nodding her head eagerly. She began to unzip her jacket, revealing a bright orange Edmonton Oilers jersey underneath. 

“Oh? Look at that! You’re an Oilers fan. In Florida?” Harry lifted himself from his crouched position and directed his question toward at the girl’s father.

“Yes, well, we actually travelled here from Edmonton, to watch the draft in person.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew that the flight from Edmonton to Florida is long, and likely expensive. The tickets to attend the draft live probably weren’t cheap either. “It’s not every day your favourite team picks first overall! Let alone gets to pick a player like you. We were so excited so we decided to make a family trip out of it. Turn around, Millie, show him the back!” Millie’s father handed Harry a sharpie as Millie turned her back to Harry. 

It was at that moment that Harry started to understand the weight of the moment. The name ‘STYLES’ was embroidered on the back of Millie’s Oilers jersey, above the number ‘15’ indicating his draft year. He was speechless. This was, after all, the first time he was seeing his name in the classic Oilers’ orange and blue colours adorned on a fan’s back. 

The feeling was different from earlier at the draft when they presented him with his own jersey. This one belonged to someone else. Someone bought his jersey before he’d even ever played a single minute for the team. They flew across the continent, from Edmonton to Florida, just to watch him get drafted. It was a lot for his hazy, champagne-diluted mind to take in.

Realizing he’d just been standing there staring at the jersey, he cleared his throat once again in hopes that he could hide the unknown thoughts and emotions he was trying to reconcile. “Wow, um, I didn’t realize you could get these already.”

Millie’s father laughed, “Man, they’ve been selling these in Edmonton since they announced we’d be picking first in the draft.” Again, the feeling was overwhelming for Harry. 

We’d be picking first in the draft.

To this family, and probably others in Edmonton, the Oilers were “we”. They win together, they lose together. If the Oilers pick first in the draft, they all pick first. It was their team. And now he, Harry, was a part of that “we”.

Harry reached down to sign the jersey on Millie’s back, quickly scribbling his autograph on the left side. As he straightened himself, he felt Anne move to stand beside him, apparently having sensed her son’s unease and unconscious need for his mother to join him in this moment.

“Hi, I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Would you like me to take a picture of the four of you?” Millie’s father eagerly handed his phone to Anne and waved his wife over to be in the photo. Several photos of Harry and the family were taken, followed by a few of just Harry and Millie. 

“Would you mind if I took one of Harry and Millie on my phone as well?” Anne asked as she snapped the last photo. “This is the first time Harry’s met a fan wearing his name on an Oilers jersey. We’d like to remember it.” 

The family was more than happy to oblige so Anne took a few more photos on her phone, including one where Millie’s back was to the camera and the ‘STYLES’ name in full view. 

It was so like his mum to understand how special the moment was and to come in and save him. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling in that moment, as understanding emotions and sentimentality were not his greatest strengths, and he most definitely never would have asked to take a photo to keep for himself had she not done it. 

The obvious feelings were joy and gratitude. Every day he was thankful to play the game he loved, to be successful, and to have fans that loved and supported him. It didn’t always make sense that complete strangers paid him so much attention just for playing a game, but he accepted it and always tried to show those strangers kindness in return. However, there was another feeling lingering, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Looking at his mum, he knew that she knew what it was. She always knew. And certainly she would make him talk about it later.

As they separated from the family and walked toward the hotel elevators, where Gemma and Jeff were waiting, Anne grabbed onto her son’s arm, holding him close as they walked side by side. 

“Do you see that they love you already, my darling?” She asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at his mum, unsure of what she was going on about. “I know you. I know that you care what people think and that you are scared to disappoint them. You just need to step out on the ice and be yourself. Just be Harry. They already love you and this is only just the beginning.”

WOW! OK. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I wanted this chapter to be more of an introduction to harry and the mc and to the fan culture that harry is about to experience!! I’ve already started on the next part so that should be up before Christmas! If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is that I love you and appreciate you. If you liked it, please let me know. I debated not posting this so many times (and I might even regret it later) so feedback will certainly ease my troubled mind!! I ALWAYS LOVE YOU, BUT ESPECIALLY TODAY!! xx Shan. 

Harry’s Draft Day Look

talk to me about generational | fic masterlist

[tossawary]

Some random favorite lines (with commentary) of Chapter 23: “Swallowing Your Heart” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary.

-

Liu Qingge shoves him off his sword.

Plot twist! Betrayal! Shang Qinghua doesn’t have time to get over his shock at such an attack before Liu Qingge has caught the riderless sword in one hand and caught the swordless rider over his shoulder.

The Bai Zhan Peak War God flies on to Qian Cao Peak with his new cargo.

Shang Qinghua slaps the man on the back and wheezes.

“Have you done that move before?!” he demands, because that was so fucking smooth it’s offensive. It really does offend him! He’s super offended right now!

“Mingyan,” Liu Qingge says, like this explains everything. “And Fanli.”

It kind of does explain everything.

- 

AN: That LQG effortlessly manhandled SQH in the same way that he manhandles his sister. This is how LQG shows affection. LMY is not a fan of it either. 

-

“Ming Fan is a good sparring partner,” Binghe says as part of his tirade, like he’s confessing something. “But he needs sooooo many compliments to soothe his pride. ‘Oh, I knocked Shixiong over because he’s such a good teacher! Thank you, Shixiong, for helping me practice this move. Shixiong, I really admire how you don’t let the little things bother you because you’re so confident and skilled.’ I think he’s getting better now, but it’s still tiring sometimes. Uncle, some people really can’t take even a well-meaning criticism without falling apart.”

- 

AN: This conversation was definitely a jab at Shang Qinghua relationship with Mobei-Jun, but it also extends to Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu. 

- 

Binghe says that he also heard some Qiong Ding Peak people are here now, but he doesn’t know what they’re doing. Beyond that, not that much has apparently happened while Shang Qinghua was sleeping the day away! Liu Qingge came by, probably to report to his scheming wife, who was yet again totally and embarrassingly correct about Shang Qinghua’s state of being. Chen Xuan, whom Binghe embarrassingly correctly identified as Disciple Dumpling Thief’s Friend, dropped by, but only to say not to worry about the day-in-day-out of An Ding Peak.

- 

AN: Binghe knows Shang Qinghua’s nicknames for his favorite disciples. 

- 

Binghe curls up with his arms around and his head resting on Shang Qinghua’s stomach, while Shang Qinghua rubs his protagonist son’s back.

- 

AN: Either of these characters getting unconditional platonic affection is SO UNUSUAL that it hurts. People need hugs at all ages! 

- 

The kindest option here might be the demon lord coming back sometime in the next few days and pretending the entire interaction never happened. Shang Qinghua will tell the man that it was a human thing, some kind of nervous fit, and beg forgiveness for his lapse in presentation! Well, he probably should, except… he doesn’t really want to do that. He doesn’t really want to go, “My king, my apologies for the mess! Let me, ah, let me just swallow all of those words I threw out there, just chew them back up, gulp them down into some vital organ to rot there forever, so we can never talk about them ever again.”

Mobei-Jun seems to still be his Mobei-Jun, looking at that confrontation in hindsight, and not… not any other Mobei-Jun. People in general seem to have stayed the same, besides Peerless Cucumber being fitted into the picture as some mysterious intruder. All those years of service and loyalty and companionship Shang Qinghua remembers with Mobei-Jun haven’t vanished on him. “All current achievements have been preserved” and all that!

So, part of him wants to go, “So! Those things I said! What about them, huh? Do you have anything to say to any of that, my king? Anything at all?” 

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua wants to OPEN UP and he can’t make himself take that step when his nephew’s life is on the line. MBJ has not made himself explicitly safe yet. Unspoken understandings can only go so far here. 

- 

“Was it something really bad?” Luo Fanli presses, leaning back along his desk until she’s practically lying down on it.

Not in a sexy pose or anything, just in a put-upon flop, kind of like a tired child finding the oasis of a department store furniture display during a too-long shopping trip or a toddler denied candy pouting on the floor of the grocery store. His little sister-in-law is not greatly concerned with dignity, much to her sister’s dismay and the eternal frustration of Qi Qingqi. She says life is too short for it.

“No one died.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it means that everyone lived through it,” Shang Qinghua explains.

-

AN: Shang Qinghua’s relationship with Luo Fanli is fun. I’m looking forward to putting Luo Fanli in a room with Shen Yuan. SY needs friends. Luo Fanli @ Shen Yuan: “Idk, he’s a weirdo, but he’s uncle-shaped, right?” 

- 

Except when Shang Qinghua opens the soup container, it’s still completely full. None of his disciples - who are very, very good at acting like they’ve never been fed ever in their life - have helped themselves to even a taste. It’s a big pot! There’s plenty to go around! More than Shang Qinghua could reasonably eat by himself! And yet…

His disciples have been way too nice to him lately. He feels like he should be checking his pockets for whatever they stole from him when he wasn’t looking. Did the System replace his bratty disciples with good alternate universe ones?! He hates it, thanks!

- 

AN: This is SUCH a low standard... and yet...! It’s very funny to me how much his disciples not stealing food from a sick man says here. 

SQH: “Why are all my disciples such sticky-fingered brats?!” 

LJH: “Because you think it’s funny.” 

SQH: “Oh, yeah.” 

- 

Wow, Peerless Cucumber doesn’t seem pleased to see him! Shang Qinghua hasn’t suffered a glare that venomous since… well, Shen Qingqiu, maybe? Okay, so maybe the switch would have worked a little bit! But Shang Qinghua is still glad it didn’t happen, even if the System fucked up the rest of reality (somehow, Shang Qinghua still hasn’t figured out how exactly) out of revenge for its own shitty choices falling through.

“Where have you been?” Peerless Cucumber demands.

“Busy?” Shang Qinghua answers, coming closer but not sitting down. “Look, the System just rewrote bits of reality on me because of your fumbled arrival tipping some invisible scales and it has not been forthcoming about the changes. I had things to check on and things have been a bit political. I sent you a message.”

“That message said a lot of nothing,” Peerless Cucumber says, but with less venom.

“Aha, yeah. Well, I’m here now.”

Peerless Cucumber looks frustrated, but finally scoots over so that Shang Qinghua can sit beside him on the bench. Shang Qinghua gingerly sits, giving the kid space.

Shang Qinghua is being super calm for the other transmigrator right now! He’s very calm here! The calmest!

- 

AN: SY really is a scared kid putting up a front. Which works out, because SQH is a dad here (and thinks SY’s insults are mostly just funny). 

- 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shang Qinghua can see a Qian Cao Peak cultivator standing impatiently by the Qiong Ding Peak guard. And… someone bouncing on their toes in a Qing Jing Peak uniform? Speak of the half-demon future tyrant of this world!

“Looks like we’ll have to continue this later,” Shang Qinghua says.

“My assisted meditation appointment,” Peerless Cucumber confirms glumly, looking as though he’s never experienced inner peace in his life and has no intention of willingly doing so. 

- 

AN: I took SY as genuinely having a knack for cultivating and that’s the interpretation I’m using for this fic, especially since I gave the Original Shen Qingqiu health problems that nearly killed him. In an earlier chapter, Mu Qingfang mentions needing to “replace Shen Qingqiu’s entire cultivation system”, which I planted for Shen Yuan getting a free, extremely stable highly developed cultivation system as part of his transmigration later. 

I mean, Shen Yuan manages to weather Liu Qingge’s qi deviation, a great deal of stress, Without-A-Cure, and etc., and he’s remarkably stable through most of it. So I’m leaning towards “a little bit of System assistance” here. The System was going to replace both Shen Qingqiu and SQQ’s unstable cultivation system out for Shen Yuan and a more stable cultivation system. 

SQQ still has a cultivation system. If he didn’t, it would have been mentioned by now. SQQ is repeatedly stated to be improving well in this chapter. I think Mu Qingfang would have noticed if SQQ didn’t have cultivation anymore. 

- 

“Then wouldn’t you be Luo-Shixiong to me?” Peerless Cucumber suggests wryly to the protagonist, who is both about five years younger than him and still shorter. (Mu Qingfang said that their guest seems to believe that he’s newly twenty. Whether or not the kid is editing his age up or down, Shang Qinghua has decided that he’s just not going to fucking think about this fact.)

“Uh,” Luo Binghe says, looking stunned and then to Shang Qinghua for help. Ha, he’s flustered, which doesn’t happen often. That’s adorable.. “...Maybe?”

Shang Qinghua snorts and remains unhelpful. Ning Yingying is actually about a year younger than Luo Binghe is, Shang Qinghua knows, but she’s been a member of the sect for significantly longer. Binghe might have some shidi and shimei soon with the next entrance test and he’s been very excited about that, but he clearly doesn’t know what to do with a “shidi” closer to his young auntie’s age than his own. Kind of weird seniors and juniors are just part of the sect experience, nephew! Get used to it!

“Thank you, regardless,” Peerless Cucumber says.

“Of course,” Binghe agrees quickly.

- 

AN: SQH is probably going to look back on this moment and go, “Hmm.” 

- 

‘You’re very resourceful,” his sister-in-law says slyly.

“I am very resourceful,” Shang Qinghua allows, and in a fit of affection reaches up to pinch Luo Jiahui’s cheek like she’s Binghe. “And I have the world’s wisest and least bossy sister-in-law, too! How fortunate I am!”

Luo Jiahui slaps his hand away with a giggle, turning slightly pink.

“At least you know it!” she says.

- 

AN: I’ve been wanting to make SQH pinch someone’s cheek for ages now. 

- 

“...You looked very scared that night,” Luo Jiahui says finally. “It might have seemed worse to you than it was. If your demon can’t be understanding of one bad night, then it’s… I don’t know if there’s a way forward with him at all.” She fixes a determined expression and says, “If any offers are retracted then we’ll manage just fine without him. We’ll tell Qingge and he’ll help. And so will Fanli. Our family won’t fall apart so easily. Hua-Ge doesn’t have to take care of everything and be everything at once to everyone.”

- 

AN: LJH channeling some “dump him! dump him! dump him!” energy. 

- 

Shang Qinghua has never been able to picture cutting ties after all this time. What would he even say? “My king, I think our arrangement has come to an end. I promised to serve you for the rest of my life, but that was when I didn’t think my life was worth very much.” He can’t see that going over well! It’s never really been an option, anyway, since Luo Binghe can’t not unlock his demonic powers and go to the Demon Realm. The System won’t have it.

- 

AN: If SQH said that to MBJ, that would be a one-hit KO, probably. 

Break the man’s heart, why don’t you?

[razorblade180]

Venqua Week:Music

“When you-gah! No, that’s not right. When- ugh! Come on Ventus, you can do this!” The boy said, frustratingly tuning a guitar. He had been at this for months now. It all started when Namine moved into the Land of Departure with him, Terra, and Aqua. The boy had stumbled upon her drawings and by extension, the arts itself. He was completely hooked. Outside of fighting, Ventus didn’t have much time to explore possible talents. He was determined to find a hobby he was good at! It took all of ten minutes of Namine teaching him about color theory for him to realize that maybe literal art wasn’t his calling.

That’s when Namine recommended music. Seemed like a good idea. He didn’t want to brag, but Ventus always thought he was a bit musically inclined. Between dancing and the ice cream beat machine, he thought learning an actual instrument would come easy. Wrong! It was critically difficult! Three months into learning guitar and his confidence was was fading like the golden sunset that washed over him as he sat at the edge of the trio’s stargazing spot. Ventus played a few more strings and sighed. It didn’t sound off. Honestly it never was. The problem was his nerves. Ventus was trying to be a perfectionist with the only song he’s been able to learn so far. All for a special someone, Aqua.

He had always had certain feelings for his friend, but expressing them was beyond impossible. Any time he tried to show her a cooler, more mature side of himself it never worked out. He’d either screw up really hard, or Aqua would do her pretty little giggle while patting his head like he was some sort of puppy. He was not a puppy darn it! Ventus wanted to at least be a cooler, older anime. Something like a fox or a leopard. Just once, he wanted to leave Aqua speechless. He thought a singing to her would be his best bet. His face face grew redder at the thought of her listening to the song in awe, her deep blue eyes captivated by his feelings.

“Geez, I’m so hopeless.” He said, covering his face. Ventus turned his head towards his master’s keyblade that rested peacefully just several feet away. He wondered if Master Eraqus had any hidden talents? No way keyblade wielding was his only gift. If Aqua’s fighting style was any indication, the old man was probably a bunch of fun on the dance floor. The thought of him doing even half the moves Aqua did was enough to make Ventus laugh lightly. Once again he strummed his guitar. “Oh master, you think I stand a chance?”

“Stand a chance at what?” A voice asked from behind. Ven’s face went bright red, then pale in a less than a second when he realized it was Aqua. She smiled her beautiful smile like she always did and held a crown of flowers in her hand.

“A-Aqua!?” He stammered, “W-What brings you up here....!?” He wanted to hit himself right now. The answer to that was quite literally in front of him.

“Changing out Master Eraqus’s flowers” she answered anyways. Aqua walked over to the memorial and did just that. The old ones weren’t dead yet, but their color was obviously starting to fade. Still, they looked rather pretty. So pretty in fact, Aqua took it upon herself to sat right next to ventus and hang it around neck. “Wow, I’m a little surprised it passed your hair so easily. I thought it would sit on top.” She teased, ruffling the wild dew.

“Hey! It’s not that spiky! Also my head would have to massive for it to sit on top!” He pouted. Why is always a head rub!? This time he was minding his own business and still wound up like this. “Do you have a thing with my hair or something? You’re always doing stuff like this.”

“Of course. You always pout and turn red. It’s cute.” She answered, watching him get redder. Aqua couldn’t help herself. Teasing Ven like this was just irresistible. “So, what is it that you were trying to stand a chance in? Maybe I can help?”

“What? Oh! Umm it was nothing! Just talking aloud is all.” Lying was not a strength Ventus had.

“Really?” Aqua said sarcastically. She reached over to the guitar in his arms and ran her fingers across the strings, making a subtle but pleasant sound from it. “Nothing to do with the acoustic currently in your hands?” She looked at the blue eyes that were inches away and avoiding contact. Aqua tilted her head, a bit confused by Ven’s shyness. “Ven, I’m not a mind reader. Tell me what’s up?”

“If you read minds then you know mine only has you in it.” He thought to himself. “I’m just having a little trouble with a song I wanna sing. I learned all the notes and everything, but I get anxious anytime it comes to playing the whole thing.”

“How come?”

“I’m...self conscious is all.” It wasn’t a lie but it was certainly vague. “Any time I think about singing it the way I intend to, I get worried if it sounds bad or if I look like an idiot.” Ven could feel his heart beating so loudly that he was afraid Aqua might here it. Here being this close was nothing new, yet it too much to deal with.m right now moved back a little by pretending to readjust how he was sitting.

Aqua could the boys hand fidget a little. He wasn’t kidding at all about feeling anxious. She had never seen him so flustered when it came to things like this. Aqua had caught him a few times over the past few months really putting an effort into learning when nobody was around. She had even secretly caught him sneaking off early in the morning to find a place to practice. Learning this song must’ve been really important. For Aqua, that only left one response to this.

“Can I hear it?”

Ven was going to have a heart attack. “What!?”

“I wanna hear it.” She repeated, “We’re often our own worst critics. If you only play with no one around then you might always think it needs improvement, so let me hear it. I’ll give my honest opinion!” She said, excited to listen.

“That’s the one thing that scares me!!!” Ventus could not believe this was happening. How was he supposed to explain to her that she couldn’t listen because he was doing it all for her!? She even gave a valid reason for helping! “Oh, no I uh- you don’t have to do all that! Hehe, I just-” he stopped when he saw Aqua move to sit on her knees. His crush sat patiently with her hands resting her hands on her lap, a heart stealing smile still on her face. Here she was. Here they were. Two people bathed in the golden light of a sunset. Warm air and breath stealing views anywhere you looked. A gentle breeze made Aqua run a finger across her face. All attention was on him. Well, no time like the present right? Ven stood no chance of resisting with a face like that.

He sat facing her, legs crossed. He new his face was still red and the sound of his beating heart hadn’t gotten any calmer. However, a comfort came from that with a mix of excitement. An honest truth about his feelings. He really had fallen for her and wanting nothing more to express his feelings with all of his heart.

“Aqua...can I ask a favor?” He somehow managed to say. “Can you...close you eyes while I sing to you?”

The request was surprising but understandable. This was more about sound then sight anyways. “Okay.” She closed her eyes in earnest. “Ready...” For some reason Aqua felt herself get a little embarrassed as well. She hoped it didn’t show on her face.

Ventus took the deepest breath he could. Mustering his resolve and composing himself, Ventus began to strum.

🎶When you walk away, you don't hear me say

"Please, oh baby, don't go."

Simple and clean

Is the way that you're making me feel tonight

It's hard to let it go....🎶

Yeah, Aqua could totally feel herself starting to blush. Ven was only a few lyrics in, but she couldn’t think of a time she heard a more stunning voice.

🎶You're giving me, too many things, lately

You're all I need, oh~

You smiled at me and said...

"Don't get me wrong, I love you

But does that mean I have to meet your father?"

When we are older, you'll understand what I meant when I said

"No, I don't think life is quite that simple"

When you walk away, you don't hear me say

"Please, oh baby, don't go."

Simple and clean

Is the way that you're making me feel tonight

It's hard to let it go🎶

Ventus felt his nerves melt away as he kept playing. His mind was too focused on the notes to worry. Too focused on the girl in front of him. He was starting to find his stride.

The daily things, Like this and that and what is what

That keep us all... busy are confusing me~

That's when you came to me and said

"Wish I could prove I love you but does that mean I have to walk on water?"

When we are older, you'll understand it's enough when I say so

And maybe some things are that simple.

When-🎶

His serenade was unexpectedly cut short. Aqua had reached for his hand and stopped him from playing. Ven’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, nothing but dread filled his thoughts. Did she hate it? Why else would he stop him midway. He would’ve asked, but Ventus couldn’t find the words. Not out of fear, but because of the look on Aqua’s face. Her calm demeanor was entirely gone. A the warmest smile Ven has ever laid eyes on was on her face with rose red cheeks. “A-Aqua...?” He finally spoke.

“S...sorry.” She spoke, “it’s just...well....” finding the words was a little difficult. Aqua couldn’t help but laugh at her own skittishness. “You confessing to me like this might be a little more than my heart can handle.” There, she said it. She watched a Ven’s eyes start getting bigger and bigger while his face tried rivaling hers in terms of red.

“Y...You knew I-”

“Of course.” Aqua giggled, “I watch you just as much as you watch me you know? Because...I like you...too. A lot.”

Ventus must’ve been dreaming. Chirithy has to have put him in a special dream. It’s the only way this made sense. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Like he was one to talk.

Aqua rubbed the back of her neck, “I’m not very good with this kind of stuff. Even though I had a feeling you liked me, I just couldn’t find the nerve. Then I started thinking about how I could be wrong and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I kept finding reasons to keep quiet. But next thing I know is I started thinking more and more about these feelings sense we got back home and I-” Aqua jumped at the touch of Ven’s hand grab hers. She’s glad he did it, or else she might’ve rambled for hours.

A pressure weighed on their chest. One that was slowly pulling them together. The two of them couldn’t speak, only lean closer. They wanted the same thing. They knew it buy all the blushing moments and not so secret glances. Aqua moved the guitar away from Ven to get even closer. Ven invited the approach by tugging her hand closer to him. Her face had to be only inches away. Way to far for his liking. Aqua finally spoke.

“I think we should both close our eyes this time.” She said, flustered by her own suggestion. She was glad she managed to say it though. The moment his eyes closed, Aqua understood why he asked before. Filled with ease and courage, Aqua pressed her lips against the ones that had just serenaded her moments ago. Neither kept track how long they remained like this and neither cared. The only thing that mattered was it had finally happened; and it was only going to keep happening for many days to come.

[many thanks to @venquaweek because fun fact, I’ve had this music idea for three years and never wrote it 😂]

[kira-ani-mcgrath]

I've little interest in Frozen stuff but I've seen bits and pieces of this Hans stuff you've mentioned on and off and I'm curious about something. When you say someone is acting un-Christlike by saying a character is irredeemable, what is it you exactly mean? Because sometimes yea, it can be narratively unsatisfying to randomly redeem a character in a story. Example: People debating if it would be narratively satisfying if Azula got redeemed. It's got nothing to do with worldview imo.

For context, this ask comes in the wake of this post.

I’m posting this reply publicly so I can refer back to it if needed in the future. I received a similar ask [hopefully that link works] on the heels of this post, which I answered privately without saving a copy of my response, and it would have been useful if I’d saved and/or posted it. Thus, here we are.

I want to make something 100% unquestionably clear to anyone who follows me or reads my posts: whenever I criticize someone labeling Hans “unredeemable”/“irredeemable” it is ALWAYS in the context of someone declaring him un/irredeemable because of what he has done.

It is NEVER people saying they don’t think Disney should redeem him because they’re worried WDAS will do a terrible job of it. It is NEVER people saying they don’t want him redeemed in an unsatisfying manner (i.e.: “BTW he’s good now, he changed off-screen and now he’s back like nothing bad happened.”). It is NEVER people saying that his redemption may not fit well into a particular scenario. It confuses me that people are interpreting my words this way, because if I were to express concern about the way a character’s actual or potential redemption were handled, I would never do it by labeling the character irredeemable or saying the character shouldn’t be redeemed at all, full stop. I would include the nuances I am referring to, such as “The character shouldn’t be redeemed off-screen,” or “The character shouldn’t be redeemed in this movie.” Therefore, if I am saying people shouldn’t call a character irredeemable, I’m not referring to specific cases such as “The character shouldn’t be redeemed by this creative team,” or, “The character shouldn’t be redeemed in this manner.” I am referring to a much larger picture.

I am criticizing people who say Hans is evil, malicious, unfeeling, manipulative, abusive, a villain, a sociopath, and/or a murder, and therefore he can never and should never be redeemed. I am criticizing people who don’t want Hans redeemed because they have a personal grudge against the character. I am criticizing people who think that once a character crosses a particular line (and apparently this line is unique for Hans, based on what he actually did compared to every other “bad guy” in fictional history), the character is now 100% bad and can never be good in any way ever again.

A Christian should never think this way. There is no unforgivable sin (besides attributing works of the Holy Spirit to Satan, as some of the Pharisees did). We are to love our enemies and desire what is best for them - to be saved, redeemed - and yet I see people with the word “Christian” in their bio bragging about how much they hate Hans because he was so terrible to Anna and Elsa, rejoicing that Hans remains unredeemed in canon, cheering when Anna punches Hans in Frozen, laughing when the Frozen Fever snowball crashes into him, agreeing with Elsa calling him an “unredeemable monster” and approving of her destroying his snow-figure in Frozen II. I see those who say they belong to Christ - the Savior who took on every sin imaginable - saying that Hans is simply too mean, too horrible, too evil to be redeemed. I hope this is obvious, but there should be no such thing as “too [x] for redemption” to the Christian. There is never anyone, real or fictional, beyond salvation and redemption. [The only exception I could think of would be a fictional world where the rules are the antithesis to Christianity - then you could say a character is irredeemable because the very nature of that universe doesn’t allow for the character’s redemption. But that certainly doesn’t apply to Frozen.]

Now to address the Azula example brought up at the end. I’m not an A:TLA fan, but I did watch the entire show and I see the occasional meta cross my dash now and then. I’m not familiar with any debates as you have referenced, so I’m just going to give my own examples to hopefully add some extra clarity to my position.

First, I fail to see how a well-done redemption arc could ever be “narratively unsatisfying,” particularly for the Christian. If it’s well-written and you see the steps the character takes, their failings and their successes, I would think that'd be quite a satisfying story. So what is the actual issue when debating characters’ redemptions? I believe it’s concerns of quality, characterization, and actions.

Given where we see Azula at the end of her fight with Zuko in the finale, it would certainly be unsatisfying if she was chilling in Iroh’s tea shop with everyone in the final moments of the series. Likewise, I would not want to see a Hans redemption where we are re-introduced to Hans and he’s completely apologetic and ready to right any wrongs. In fact, I am put-off by fanfics that start with Hans having already repented, changed, etc., from his canon actions and self. I want to see the process of change, so that it is satisfying when he finally makes the right decision.

Given the existing three seasons of A:TLA, people are free to debate on whether or not room could have been made for an Azula redemption arc. Given the current Frozen material, people are free to debate on whether or not room could have been made for a Hans redemption arc.

Had there been further canon A:TLA material, and there was an Azula redemption arc done as well as Zuko’s (such as described in this Twitter thread), I would have found that very narratively satisfying. Now, others may not like how that theoretical redemption was handled, plotted, etc. That’s perfectly fine. Likewise, people may have certain ways they don’t want a theoretical Hans redemption handled, plotted, etc. Again, perfectly fine. One can disagree on the way a redemption arc was/might be handled without dismissing the redemption altogether.

People may want Azula to remain unredeemed because they believe she would choose to be so. That’s fine (though others are allowed to disagree). For example, if she were to maintain that she did nothing wrong and reject any help Zuko and Iroh offered, then she would remain unredeemed. Alternatively, she could realize that what she did was wrong, but then go the opposite direction and believe she doesn’t deserve anything good, so she would reject love and help at every turn for the rest of her life, and thus remain unredeemed. However, I have never seen anyone call a character “irredeemable” and mean that they believe the character would actively choose to reject offers of redemption.

People may say Azula or Hans shouldn’t be redeemed because it would be out-of-character. From an unbeliever’s perspective, that may be correct, as they think certain traits as immutable. However, that’s wrong from a Christian perspective, as anyone can change if enabled by the grace of God. In fictional worlds that don’t have any Christianity, you simply use an imperfect archetype to play a pivotal role in the character’s transformation (i.e., Uncle Iroh to Zuko).

People may not be against an Azula or Hans redemption in and of itself, but think it makes the most narrative sense to leave the characters unredeemed - whether it be because there wasn’t enough time in canon, or there’s other characters to focus on, or some other behind-the-fourth-wall reason. That doesn’t make the characters irredeemable, it just means that’s the way the story currently stands. There’s no reason that story can’t change in the future.

However, if people are saying Azula shouldn’t be redeemed at all because what she did was too wrong, then that is un-Christ-like. Likewise, saying Hans is irredeemable because what he did was too wrong is indisputably un-Christ-like. Now, of course, I can’t expect unbelievers to act Christ-like, so it doesn’t surprise me when I see them express such sentiments. However, when a Christian argues against redemption on these grounds, I absolutely question why. You claim to stand on the Word of God, but declare there are actions too heinous to be forgiven and characters that don’t deserve redemption? God rebuked a man for his desire to see people punished instead of forgiven [Jonah], forgave adultery and murder [David], and transformed a man from persecuting to teaching the Church [Saul/Paul]. Yet you put your stamp of approval on a lack of redemption for a character because of the actions of that character? Further sanctification is needed, whether in love for the lost or in fully surrendering all to Christ. A lack of redemption should only serve as a warning of what happens to those who reject truth, love, and forgiveness - because, as we know, not everyone will be saved. A Christian should never be against redemption because they personally hate the character, or think the character is unforgivable, or believe the character doesn’t “deserve” it, or any other reason antithetical to who Christ is and what He has done.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 62 – After the Battle

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

The cadence from the machine was as steady as it could be. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Frankenstein’s heart was just as steady, its beat placid like the surface of water.

In reality, at least from Frankenstein’s standing point, for each pulse his blood was being drained away by a droplet. 

He felt as if the entire room, beyond the spot he was marking with his legs, was already flooded with the red from his body. 

Which he should have expected since his entrance to Lunark’s room. 

The day after the destructive arrival of his body occupied by the Dark Spear to Lukedonia, Lunark was hospitalized in the Lukedonian ward, having yet to wake up. 

It had been merely hours since the battle was officially closed, so it was too soon to see her waking up. 

Frankenstein knew that; after all, she was against none other than the Dark Spear that had unchained itself from his command. 

The Dark Spear that had absorbed Crombel and pieces of Crombel’s Blood Stone. 

No one would deny that it was a life-threatening opponent, even for Lunark. 

Not to mention she suffered a wound from Dark Spear, deliberately meant to kill her. 

A wound that sent Frankenstein’s sanity to the nether world when he finally regained his senses. 

A wound that was more critical than it should have been, for Lunark did not care about anything other than getting Frankenstein back, paying no attention to her own survival. 

Lunark may be top-tiered among the current werewolf warriors, but it is not time yet for her to wake up. 

Frankenstein knew and understood and accepted it in his head. 

However, his heart refused to comply. 

The cardiac monitor that was linked to her was signaling how she was at least stabilized, but Frankenstein felt he would die unless she provides a hint herself that she will be fine. 

Which is why he could not leave her, when she was not the only patient in the chamber. 

He had been receiving multiple suggestions and offers for breaks, if not treatment, from the hospital’s doctors and medical staff, Central Knights, and even few of the heads of clans. 

And of course, he would not heed them at all. 

Or he would answer he will not be staying long, to go ahead and stay transfixed as soon as he was left alone.

‘Looks like the story about me has spread to all corners of Lukedonia.’

Thought Frankenstein as he reckoned the next visitor. 

“I anticipated you to be here. I am glad I did not waste my time walking into your own room.” 

“...Please forgive me. I was supposed to keep better vigilance upon myself. The damage I caused upon your land is of no small...” 

Though what happened was as far as it could be from his intention, knowing that he had caused lot of trouble – in fact, heaps of trouble – Frankenstein willingly bowed to Lascrea. 

In the meantime, he was plotting whatever excuse he could yield to thwart yet another trial to send him to bed. 

Alas, this time he was told incorrect. 

“This is for you.” 

Frankenstein blinked in puzzlement upon locking his eyes on the phone Lascrea handed. 

‘Oh. Right. Tao said he prepared a phone and a couple applications for her in extension of the QuadraNet project.’ 

He was questioning the timing of Lascrea’s presentation of her phone when something caught his eyes. 

The screen was not the sort he identified, but the interface told him it was an application with a vocal chat activated, ongoing.

And there is only one soul that is connected to Lascrea’s phone. 

That moment Frankenstein could feel his throat strangling itself. 

However, he knew who was waiting on the other side of the phone; not even the end of the world can serve as a reason for him to turn it down. 

Thus he took Lascrea’s phone, his heart heavy like never before in the most recent times. 

“...Yes, master?” 

<Frankenstein. You do not sound well.> 

“...Forgive me, master.” 

<Forgive you...? For what?> 

Frankenstein’s eardrums shriveled. 

He could list in his mind more than a handful of things he should be begging forgiveness for, but for some reason he could not name any of them. 

Raizel changed the topic, his previous question obviously meant to be rhetoric. 

<Lascrea relayed the news. You were brought to Lukedonia, your body lost to Dark Spear, until Lunark arrived for your redemption following a blood-spilling battle. Because of which Lunark has met another battle, this time her conscious as a captive.> 

Frankenstein could tell Raizel was being gracious to him on the smallest scale he could afford. 

He may have put the cause behind Lunark’s blackout as an aftermath from her battle, but he would know the truth. 

After all, Lascrea was one of the witnesses for Lunark’s wound, and she would have had enough knowledge to testify for Raizel how she ended up suffering the wound. 

He would know that what forced her into blackout is not the aftermath of the battle; it is the one who was engaged in the battle. 

<Are you all right?> 

<...I’m fine, sir. Lukedonia boasts medical skills good enough to...> 

<My question was posed for more than your body.> 

And he knew how Frankenstein’s vessels and heart were being pulled apart every second with guilt. 

He knew how Frankenstein’s nightmare came true – his hand lost the reins he had placed upon Dark Spear, waiting for a chance to prevail from within. 

He knew because of which he is feeling for himself hatred like never before. 

Frankenstein could still remember the moment when the dam finally started to break down. And when he woke up once it was all over. 

Upon his return from the werewolf realm – rather, not long after he had finally recharged himself with wolfsbane tonic, the substance that should have kept him insomniac, he felt how a venom called sleep yanked his head with an invisible lasso towards the thick, unbreakable swamp of slumber. 

He panicked, a rare occasion for him, realizing something had gone horribly wrong, but he was already swept away by the rapid current of sleep.

Without any rope or boat to save him, he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. 

After who-knows-for-how-long, he was beckoned by a thin sensation from somewhere beyond his conscious as if something had shattered. 

Now that he had thought about it, he was surely fast asleep back then, but he could swear he felt something shatter. 

Promptly, his eyelids shot open as if under electrocution, exactly in the manner of a person miraculously dragged back by the AED from the brink of embarking on Charon’s boat. 

Furiously panting from the bottommost of his lungs, he waved his head in circumspection of his surroundings. 

He knew all too well what he would unleash once he is asleep, and as he feared his perimeter was nothing short from the definition of cataclysm. 

And he needed not to check how he was doing. 

He noticed how the soil and dirt he was thrown upon was of Lukedonian origin, and he wondered how he ended up here until his face grew cold, for he got aware a tad late of an unfamiliar weight upon his body. 

He could not see the face of the one lying upside down upon his torso, but he could make out a flock of hair scattered about where his hugger’s head should be. 

And he did not need to try at all to recognize the color, length, and curves of the hair. 

Immediately his heart froze up, turned much colder than his face. 

Soon enough he discovered a black hole rooted deep into her back, partially hidden by her hair, which filled him from head to toes with ice. 

He could not recall what befell right after. 

He ripped her off his body and ran with no direction or sense to coordinate him, to shriek dozen times and plead as twice as much, to ultimately reach here. 

<Know I it was not your will to hurt her. She would not blame you.> 

“...No. She wouldn’t.” 

<But you would.> 

Frankenstein’s throat grew strained at Raizel’s remark. 

Just as he said, Frankenstein felt highly inclined to wrench off his own head if he could. 

He wanted to drive his nails into his chest to pry out his heart. 

He could not remember the last time when his heart was jeopardized every minute by miserable, violent impulse concerning what did not happen to be Raizel. 

He could not stop thinking that he might make his impulse come to reality if Lunark is to never again open her eyes. 

Lascrea tightened her lips, having never seen such a slick, flawless man speechless for once. 

That was when she was reminded that she did not have much history with Lunark. 

She did have a light clash against her and the 3rd Elder, on the day she visited Raizel to fill his life with the half of her Ragnarok. 

After that, she ran into Lunark when she made her way to the werewolf realm with Kei and Rosaria, when Lunark brought Frankenstein, Muzaka, and Raizel, for them to ultimately reap away Maduke’s life. 

Apart from those occasions, she could not even get to hear Lunark’s name. 

So Lascrea was clueless why Frankenstein would have such a conversation with Raizel with Lunark unconscious before him. 

After all, she was looking at none other than Frankenstein, which made it more challenging for her to determine the exact relation that he and Lunark would share. 

With everything pushed to the side, however, she equally prayed that this werewolf warrior who was making THE Frankenstein spill out his guilt to open her eyes. 

Partially because she had something she had to check with Lunark.

And she could see she was not the only one. 

<It seems your heart as of now is not available for an uninterrupted, untainted reflection. For now best would it be for us to wait for Lunark to rise again. Wish I to hear that she awakens.> 

“...Of course. I believe we have a discussion ahead of us.”

That was when Frankenstein and Lascrea sharpened their eyes with pregnant glare. 

But the latter soon redirected the spotlight to something more important than the business they had with Lunark. 

“Have no concern, Frankenstein. Cadis Etrama di Raizel. I shall help our guest and savior to rise again with body as good as new, even if it takes all of Lukedonia’s art in medicine.” 

<...My gratitude, Lascrea.> 

Lascrea’s phone chimed with a brief word of appreciation. 

Poised were Raizel’s words, but Lascrea could detect softness as light but certain as moonlight, and her cheeks flushed like ripe tomatoes for a second. 

Thankfully for her, Frankenstein was too caught in his own complicated mind to notice her blush and failed to print it in his head with his eyes. 

He thereby unintentionally kept the noble lord’s dignity safe and asked, “Speaking of which, how is everything going at Korea?” 

(next chapter)

Now it’s time to wrap up things that follow the battle one by one, including the relationship between Frankenstein and Lunark. Also, I’ll be highlighting all the events that have yet to be explored in this fic (especially the events mentioned in the early chapters). Which means even though the highlight of this fic is over, I still have lots of work to do. Nevertheless, I shall do my best! :D 

[notasiren21]

#40 from the prompt list please and thank you!!!

I’m so sorry this took so long!!!

Someone You Loved

Rating: Mature for some themes

Pairing: fuckin’ Lukanette boi

Word count: 4,665

Prompt: (40) “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

Description:

Well, Luka sings a song and I pissed @macaknight off with this when I asked her to beta read the start of it. It helps if you listen to the song in the story, Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi. Enjoy lmao

She was around by his side long enough to engrave the little things into his mind.

He knew how it felt to have the soft strands of midnight blues through his fingers as he tangled them in her hair. To have her legs settle on either side of his as he trailed his hand up her small back and waist under her soft cotton shirts. The cheeky grin he grew to love baring up at him when his arms bracketed with her in between he picked her up at home.

How he didn't care for sweets but loved the way blueberry muffins tasted on her tongue and the taste of her mixed with raspberry jelly when it leaked from the corner of her pouty lips.

How the Liberty swayed under his feet against the small currents the wind brought on as they danced in the rain. The feel of his converse bracing both their weights as her drenched skirt blew in harsh waves between them. The first lightning strike reflecting off an anchor necklace he gave her on their first date.

When she kissed his cheek when he started humming absently with frustration as he tried to figure out the melody he wrote. Her small fingers pulling the pencil out of his death grip as she lent her forehead against his to calm him and decipher the jumbled notes he had in his head.

The way her face lit up when he played it back to her.

The way her face fell when she told him she loved him but they couldn't be together.

How her arms stiffly pulled away from his hug and the red of her eyes she showed up with.

How the airy taste of salt from the water didn't compare to the salt of his tears that trailed to his lips as he grounded the palm of his hands to his eyes roughy as sobs racked through his body when he collapsed to the wood of the ship.

The way it left him numb with hurt and he became too compliant with his happenings, too accepting.

Defeated.

Music was harder to hear and enjoy, he couldn't compose anything more than a haunting melody that brought any stranger to tears.

He wasn't sure he even felt the burn to his tongue when he drank his hot coffee as soon as it was handed to him. Or the rough jerk of his shoulder to turn him around as his guitar bounced off his back.

"Hey man, you look worse for wear." Théo, a former classmate of his that now ran the coffee shop, spoke as he eyed him critically. Luka shifted his thick blacks squared rimmed sunglasses up higher to cover his dark circles better. "I'd say it's great to see you, but..."

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” He offered the excuse at the ready, hating how well lying came with sadness.

“Ah, life of a famous rockstar.” Théo teased with a smirk. “No wondering you’re wearing a hat like that backwards to cover your hair and shades for those ‘oh so sexy’ blue eyes of yours.”

“Not famous,” Luka cringed at Théo’s words. “Just well known on the internet I guess.”

“Sorry for overplaying your popular cover videos man.” His old school mate laughed.

"It's fine. What's up?" He forced a smile that came across as genuine despite what he felt.

Théo crossed his arms and made a jerk with his head in the direction of the shop across the street, "New place has been stealing some of our loyal customers." Luka scratched under the brim of his black baseball cap he had on backwards as he followed the movement. "Lunch hour is about to hit and you know much we moved to stop by this part of town for break."

"Yeah, your aunt made good scones." He supplied.

He grunted in response, "Yeah. Well, girls frequent here more from school, and they keep going there," he roughly jerked his chin to the place again, "Just because there's an older guy who takes their order who is attractive, I guess. Or so I'm told."

Luka blinked at the shop before turning to his old friend, "What do you need from me then?"

"Observant as always, Couffaine." He snorted with a shake of his head. "I wanted to see if you -an attractive older guy- would give a small performance just as the girls come."

"What? Why?"

"Are you dense? With your face and body, and that 'sinful voice' of yours the girls cooed about back then and from your YouTube covers, I'm guaranteed to bring in more customers for today."

Luka tossed his half full coffee cup to the trash next to him. His own arms crossing as he wished he was in his cabin instead, laying on his bed while he stared up at the ceiling and trying to not feel the clench of his arm when he smelled Marinette's hibiscus shampoo and berry scented perfume on his pillows.

"I don't know."

His friend clasped onto his shoulder again, "Please man, you can keep 40% of the money you help bring in, I don't care. That shop is a dick and acting like we're not its competition."

“Man, you really don’t have to, I’ll just take a free coffee if you really need this.” Anything seemed better than just wallowing at home at this point, despite the incredible want to do so that swelled within him as he stood on the block he and Ladybug often frequented to patrol. “I mean it.”

Théo smiled, guiding him to a spot that he started clearing out near the cafe’s short fence that caged the outdoor tables and chairs.

“That’s okay, I feel bad to make you work without pay.” He straightened his back that had been bent forwards as he pushed tables, “Consider it repayment for that time you paid for my lunch.”

Luka stopped, “Lunch? When did I-,” he grunted. “Théo, that was four years ago.”

“Well, last Saturday had me thinking about all my debts and regrets when I thought I was gonna die. You came up.”

He flinched at mention of Saturday.

Saturday, the final fight against Hawkmoth who showed up in person with a struggling Mayura and an akumatized sentimonster of Lila. The combination of their powers as well as the wickedness that resided in the girl proving to be a difficult fight for them all when Ladybug and Chat pulled the entire team in.

Including a Chloé Bourgeois who was more than ready to help.

He could’ve sworn he heard Marinette screaming his name in worry when Hawkmoth closed in on him and hit into his side with his cane full force. But that was ridiculous. Because Marinette was Ladybug and Ladybug was Marinette. And Marinette wanted nothing to do with Luka since they had broken up without reason beyond her excuse of not being able to be with him.

He was a bit bitter about the whole ordeal.

Okay, he was more so lovesick and depressed, but his negative energy still stood.

“Yeah,” he flinched again when he heard his voice crack and he thumbed his bracelet -once silver, now a metallic black to hide better, “At least they finally caught Hawkmoth for good.”

“No kidding, now we can just focus on the heroes and the gossip your little girlfriend’s bestie posts.”

A knife. Through his heart. Twisting and gutting.

“Gossip?” He chose the safer option of the sentence, ignoring the onslaught of pitying questions and half-assed supportive promises that correcting Théo would bring.

“Yeah, like how that Ryuuko dragon girl and Chat are definitely dating and that Viperion and Ladybug totally have the hots for one another and the soft looks they give during patrols.”

A chainsaw. Just shredding his heart to pieces.

Luka Couffaine once thought he was a smart kid who made the right decisions.

How wrong he had been.

“Right.” He bit out, gripping the strap of his guitar case and scratching his baseball cap.

Théo shot up and loudly clapped with a whoop, “There we go! Now, I should grab the mic stand from open mic nights and just plug that in and some speakers, then we’ll be good to go.” Maybe Luka should’ve just left. “I’ll get ‘er done in five minutes, tops.”

Luka only nodded, watching as he ran around and set things up, then proudly presented Luka with the lone table he left set up to sit on.

He eyed his skeptically behind his sunglasses before hopping up, testing his weight on the surface before he crossed one ankle across his thigh and took his guitar from Théo who unzipped it for him. Théo pushed the mic stand closer to Luka and adjusted when he peered up at him.

“What do you want me to sing?”

His old friend shrugged with an easy smile, “Anything that comes to mind and draws that big crowd of hungry girls over.” Luka bobbed his head in response and tuned his acoustic guitar as Théo began backing up to inside the store and cheered, “Show off that sinful voice of yours, man! Woo!”

He let out a short chuckle and emptied his mind completely as he shut down, letting his fingers strum a few notes to a song that he began to resonate deeply with.

“I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me,” he closed his eyes and mentally chastised himself for being so open with his feelings as they poured out of him through a popular song. “This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy.”

He could see Théo looking at him carefully when he opened before squeezing his eyes shut in pain. He hated that look of pity, but he already started singing this song and he knew he would have to see it through given that the customers at the shop had already turned their attention to him.

“I need somebody to heal

Somebody to know

Somebody to have

Somebody to hold,”

Did he growl at the end of that last line? He wasn’t sure but the audience seemed moved by it and how he didn’t go weak on the verbs. Maybe he could please someone for once by just following with what worked for him.

“It's easy to say

But it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain.”

He thought he saw the familiar flash of black with red accents that everyone knew as Ladybug’s new suit for a second up on the rooftops. The rooftops that she danced with Viperion on and let her laugh rang over the quiet town under the stars. He wasn’t sure if he was just hopelessly imagining her or if she was there, but he felt the pain bite all at once and his voice became wobbly in a way that the crowd seemed touched by. You’re kidding me.

“Now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

Weak. He felt weak and it wasn’t the kind where he felt weak at the knees like when Marinette smiled up at him or her nose scrunched in thought.

He always thought he could be emotionally strong to handle whatever came his way. He was so sure of it.

“I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to,” Guess he was weak for Marinette in every way possible after all, “This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you.

“Now, I need somebody to know

Somebody to heal

Somebody to have

Just to know how it feels

It's easy to say but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape.”

There was no blame to place, he knew that. It didn’t make it better or let him throw his anger at her to get it out, but he couldn’t keep punishing himself either.

He felt his eyes sting, shutting them as one tear slipped through and feeling grateful for both his dark shades and the sun beating down on his face past the patio table umbrella, hiding the evidence of his heartbreak.

“Now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down,”

Who was he kidding? The heartbreak was the clearest part about him as he let the rough notes chip away at his throat and the growls making his voice artistically raw that he would have to worry about later.

His heart stopped painfully when he remembered the way Marinette’s face flushed all smitten like with a wondering look when Luka growled while singing and shot her winks, knowing how flustered it made her to see her calm and collective boyfriend with a soft and careful voice sounding so tortured for certain songs.

“And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.

How that came back to bite him in the ass.

He glanced up to blink away the tears and avoid the view of the large growing audience he couldn’t see from the sun.

He could’ve sworn he saw a flash of black and flecks of red again.

Fingers strummed harder and with more purpose and he let his soft voice fall back as the pain ripped through him and out in his voice.

“And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes

I fall into your arms

I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around.”

Fuck. He missed her. He missed her a fuck ton and wanted to hold her again and hear her whisper his nicknames of “Love”, “baby”, “handsome”, “Vipey”, whatever the hell she wanted to call him.

Even his damn name would be enough to sedate him for a year.

“For now the day bleeds

Into nightfall”

Dancing with her into the beginnings of a bad storm on the deck of the Liberty as they belted Cheap Thrills amist her giggles and his laughs he choked down to keep her beautiful voice going with his.

“And you're not here

To get me through it all”

Being curled up on her living room couch the next day with her cuddled into his side. Both sick with the cold, but unable to wipe the weak grins from their faces as Sabine amusingly disapproved of their actions the night before.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug”

Their first kiss when she got flustered at their first date and told him she wouldn’t read too much into it despite wanting to, and him effectively shutting her up for the first time ever with the crash of his lips to hers and hands tilting her head up to meet him in reassurance.

“I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

The first time she called him her boyfriend and the pleased giggle she let out when he gave a startled and flustered noise, his snack flying out of the package he ripped open before he blinked and asked her to repeat what she said as a toothy grin broke his shocked face.

“But now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all”

Did a camera just flash at him? Hard to tell with the sun in his eyes and the dark lenses of his shades. He couldn’t find himself to care either.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

He tried not to think about the fact that he forced himself to change his phone backgrounds to black, tried not to think if she deleted her phone screens of them napping together or the wallpaper of them dancing in the rain Juleka got of them as Luka dipped her over the edge of the stage they always practiced on.

The complete trust in her eyes and smile always made him melt in that picture. Her hands loosely holding her arms as her head titled back in a deep bellied laugh while he held onto her waist tightly with one arm and had the other behind him, the biggest smile that was only found on his face when Marinette was around.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

Luka still fucking loved her more than anything.

His drive, his inspiration, his happiness and safe space. His melody that always rang loudly in his ears.

Now it sounded just as it did when they were younger.

The numbness took over as he looked up, face contorted into a forced happy expression as he dipped his head in gratitude to see the very big crowd that gathered and was clapping with tears in their eyes. He excused himself to find Théo who ignored how exposed the song made his old friend, conversing with him briefly as he counted the amount of customers before Luka left and promised to give him the 40% the next visit he came and a free coffee.

He put up his guitar, tugging the case back over his shoulder as he headed back to the Liberty and tossed the faux leather casing to the bed, tossing his sunglasses to the the bed as well before heading to the deck and off to take a lap to clear his break up riddled mind.

The third block was a close achievement, before he felt the petite body rush into him and the all too familiar wrap of small and strong legs wrap about his waist with a black latex suit arm winding around his neck. He subconsciously fell back into habit as one of his own dropped to hold under her thighs and one around her own waist as black fielded his vision.

He barely got a curse out before the all too telling sound of a spiritually powered string to the famous yo-yo pinned against restraint and shot them upwards, his unmasked face burying itself in the crook of her neck from the force rush of air to his eyes.

His chest tightened to the smell of hibiscus flowers and berries, clutching her tighter for the first time in a long while. Half aware he shifted her higher against him to have her bring them closer.

Well fuck if he wasn’t the most touch starved and needy ex ever.

The familiar sound of a specific metal railing being bounded by the yo-yo was the only warning he got before the touched surface with his feet and she loosened her grip.

He barely heard the words of her detransformation before he could see the flash of pink through black and pulled back from her neck.

Terror shook through him, and his hands and body trembled against her as he couldn’t force himself to look up. Staring intently at the silver anchor necklace he gave her, bounded in a rope of small teal jewels.

Luka couldn’t look at her face, couldn’t look away from the necklace she still wore. He couldn’t let her go or put her down either.

“Breathe love,” her quiet voice spoke, soft and hesitant, breaking Luka as he dropped them to his knees and brought her closer than before.

An audible sob he hadn’t heard since she walked away from him escaped his lips and heaved for air as his chin rested over her head and he looked frantically in front of him. At her balcony, the plants that littered the space and the wood paneling they rested on, the little ladybug statue he bought her as a cute joke.

Seeing none of it through blurry eyes, forcing himself to drop his head to her shoulder as she quaked with tears and ran a soothing hand through his hair.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He couldn’t get words out as he just grounded his face into her. “I thought I was protecting you, I didn’t realize how wrong I was.”

She pulled his face up, ceruleans magnified as his pupils dilated to the sight of her in front of him once again and the tips of his ears flaring just by her touch for the first time in forever. She caught a steam of tears with her thumb, giving him a tight smile.

“My miraculous gave me the intuition that Hawkmoth would make his final move.” She paused for a second, closing her eyes and she breathed deeply. “I thought for sure I would die when he did. Either by his winning, or ours but I would end up a casualty or sacrifice. You guys weren’t even supposed to be there, but Adrien insisted for backup and I just...”

“You left me because you thought you were going to be killed?” Voice gravelly and sore from the coffee shop, he pressed on, fingers twitching at her back. “Why didn’t you tell me? Even if you had to strap me down just to bench me from the fight, you should’ve told me.”

“You’re right,” she rushed. “Absolutely right, and it was pure hell to leave to that day or say what I did. I’ve never been more miserable with my life than I’ve been since we’ve broke up. I hate it, I hate being away from you so much, Luka.”

“Be mine again.”

“What?” She blinked, choking on air.

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into her touch when she held his face. “I don’t, I don’t fucking care if I’m being selfish anymore. It’s so hard not to be when it comes to you, Marinette. All these small details engraved to my mind, committed to memory and nothing to do with it.

“I keep leaving hoodies I casually wear on my amp for you to take, I keep putting that soft blanket you’re obsessed with folded on the edge of my bed for you to yank off and curl into as soon as you step into my room.” He forced his eyes not to open as he kept going, following the rhythm she provided and he struggled to find words for. “The minute I wake up, before I even open my eyes to see for the first time of the day, my phone is already in my hand with your contact open and a good morning text at the ready for you. Even good night texts when I reset my alarms. I keep leaving your spot open on my bed in case you visit while I’m asleep. Your favorite part on the couch for you. The last cherry popsicle of the package, and the cookie dough ice cream I bought out of habit are still in the freezer waiting for you to find them.

“I’m fucking broken without you.” He rasped, ceruleans meeting baby blues, “I’m missing you emotionally, figuratively, mentally, physically. How the hell am I supposed to be okay when you’ve become such a big part of me? When you’re my literal other half?”

She nudged his button nose with her small one, “I,” she gave a dark laugh that he felt in his core. “I keep airing out my room whenever my sewing machine leaves behind that electrical smell your nose scrunches at so much.” She giggled when she felt him do it at the mention of the scent. “I let the popcorn cook for half a minute longer to get it a little burnt like how you like. I sleep in your hoodies to leave behind the smell of my perfume and shampoo the way you said you like your hoodies to smell when I give them back. I play with my necklace when I grow nervous and can’t talk to you. I can’t go more than five hours without hovering over your contact name or looking at our pictures.”

He sat back on his knees, letting her adjust herself out of habit and moving her hair away from her face. The smile he gave was tight but reassuring.

“I missed you, doll.”

“I missed you too, Luka.” She paused for a second, “Hey,” she started cautiously.

“Hm,”

“Luka, you know I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you, right?”

The glint that quickly came to his eyes didn’t waver like his abused voice did, “I kinda figured from all the times you’ve blushed and stuttered. The times you tripped when I caught you off guard with a flirtatious comment or wink. And the times you kissed me like it was the end of the world.”

He looked up to see her set a false murderous glare above him as he ran his thumb over the teal gems in the rope around the anchor of her necklace, a smirk he hadn’t felt making way to his face as one of his naturally slightly pointer canines became visible to express his pure happiness.

“I forgot how much of a jerk you could be,” she huffed, looking away and sniffing.

“I’m sorry, doll.” He made her look at him, eyes still shining with unshed tears as the stared into hers. His grin was pure radiance, “I love you.”

She let him pull her down to a kiss, feeling those soft pouty lips he loved so much back on his again. “I know,” she replied between kisses, causing him to huff and pull away with his own pout. She held alone his jawline, “I’m kidding, kinda. But, I love you too.”

Her giggle when he let out a happy and short hum was pure music to his ears as her melody finally fell back into the correct time signature and key. Even as he parted with a pant and hugged her close, stroking her hair.

“Just, don’t leave me in the dark again.” He started, seeing her phone that fell out of her back pocket light up with a text from Alya.

Alya: So did you kiss and makeup, or not? I have Nino on the edge of his seat.

Alya: no really, he keeps asking and refuses to do ANYTHING until he finds out.

Alya: for fuck’s sake, answer and let me get laid

He hid his smile in her shoulder from the texts and the fact that she never changed her screens from them. Letting him see her cheek smushed up against his chest and her arm lazily thrown around his waist while his held her close.

“Never, not again. I’m not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice like I once was.” He snorted at the reference to her old crush on Adrien years ago. “But we do have something to talk about.”

He pulled back, eyeing her cautiously. “Did I do something?”

“Yes,” his heart fell and he was ready to beg for her forgiveness. “You know how many girls have your picture now? Videos of you singing a song in such a beautifully tortured way with those growls, and the rough notes and the, stop laughing Couffaine!”

“I’m sorry,” he muffled his laughs behind his hand. “I forgot how much fun I had just by talking with you and your small bouts of jealousy.”

“Oh, I’m bad? Says the boy who sang a song that people keep covering for heartbreak.”

“I’m getting paid for doing it.”

“How much?”

“40% of the customers I brought in by drawing a crowd and a coffee on the house,” he let a smile spread across his face. “You know, I might be able to change it. Can I treat you to a free mint hot chocolate, a date as well maybe?”

She considered him for a second.

“With whipped cream,” he added for extra measure to his small sweet’s addict. He dimpled up at her with a scrunch when she kissed his button nose.

“God, I love you, Luka.”

“I love you too,” he kissed her slowly, “Mari, just don’t let me sing like that again, my voice is killing me.”

“Got it, never leave you again.”

“Pretty much.”

“Hey, you look cute with your baseball cap backwards like this.” She winked, pulling his black hat from the balcony floor where it fell off and back on his head.

“I’d respond with a witty comment, but it hurts to talk now.”

She grinned, “Hm, I love you.”

Luka still smiled despite flinching from the rawness of his throat, “I love you.”

[silveraccent]

Rat Chef || Grace & Kaden

TIMING: Current. LOCATION: Grace’s apartment. PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup @silveraccent SUMMARY: Kaden visits Grace’s apartment with a pie. She offers soup in this trying time and they watch Ratatouille together. 

Grace glanced down at her phone, surprised to see a text message from Kaden announcing his arrival. Why he was at her apartment, now absent of sand, she couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was here to see Blanche and Ariana, too. Grace thought back to hers and Morgan’s conversation, an attempt at pushing the idea she wasn’t worth anybody’s time or effort far from her mind. She paused her movie and hopped off of her three-seater couch before approaching the door just as a knock sounded. She pulled the door open and smiled at Kaden before stepping aside. “Oh, it’s you.” Grace let out a laugh before motioning him inside. He had a bag in his arms, leaving Grace to look at it curiously. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but uh, what’s up?” Suddenly, the fear of there having been something bad that happened-- to him-- no, he looked… fine. Better than the last time she had seen him. She fought the urge to interrupt him and simply flexed her fingers. Grace turned towards the television as it unpaused itself, allowing Ratatouille to start playing. “Son of a--” Grace hurried towards the remote and punched her finger into the pause button once more. ‘

Kaden still hadn’t found ways to fill his free time with anything other than baking. There was a comforting routine and trance that came from combining butter and flour and sugar together to make pies and pastries. In the kitchen, he was able to quiet his mind, push away the thoughts and fears threatening to pull him under at any moment. Perfection also didn’t matter, not in the same way that it did when in the field or on the job. Or even when dealing with people, lately. If he messed up in the kitchen, he could try again. He could rearrange it and make it something new. And he never had to share his failures or apologize to anyone. It was the one thing he was sure didn’t make people’s lives worse. It might not actively help anyone and it was probably a waste of fucking time, but he found himself wasting his time there more and more. The one problem? The excess of baked goods he didn’t need or particularly want. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, sometimes the stupid jokes at the Station got to him, picked away at his thick skin when people jibed at him. And he didn’t need any comments of any kind about his baking. No assumptions, either. It was easier to give the pies to Morgan to redistribute. But not this one. This pie had a home. At least he hoped. Ariana and Blanche already got their delivery and there was one stop left. He wasn’t sure if she even wanted the stupid pie, but he stood at Grace’s door and knocked anyway. “Hey,” he said as she greeted him. “I, uh, I went on another round of baking.” Another round. Right. Like he’d ever taken a single breather since the scream at the morgue save for the full moon. “Figured you might appreciate this pie more than me so I thought--” His brow furrowed as he stepped inside and heard the television jump to life again. It looked familiar. A little like the thing Blanche sent him the other day. “I see you found something other than that gossip show to watch.”

“Another pie?” Grace asked over her shoulder. She looked at his hands, the glass pie plate now familiar. “I’ll take it.” She thought about Morgan, how she had been helping him, too. Grace was no longer in the self-depreciating headspace. Sure, there were moments, but for the most part her conversation with Morgan and seeing Regan had helped her. She was still struggling with the idea that if something happened again, in any capacity, there’d not be much she’d be able to do to help. That was the reality of the situation, however. No matter how badly she wanted to help, maybe she was meant to stay back, to stand idly by. It wasn’t her speed, but in a town like White Crest, maybe she had no other choice. So this time, she’d accept the pie with a smile. She’d tell Kaden thank you instead of telling him she didn’t need his pity. She wouldn’t cry, either. She looked towards the television and let out a laugh. “Yeah. I haven’t seen this movie since I was a kid, but with all the conversation surrounding it…” She worried her lower lip before looking back over to him. “Let me take that.” Grace took the pie to the kitchenette around the corner before she poked her head out. “I just made some soup, it’s for Ari, but if you want some…?” Grace asked as she leaned against the wall. “Or if you had somewhere to be, I can pack it up for you?” 

“Yeah, another pie. I mean, only if you want it. You don’t have to--” Kaden’s protests didn’t last long since she decided to take the stupid pie from him. He wondered if it was out of pity. He also wasn’t sure that it mattered one way or the other. He was ready to take off, leave her be and go back home when she called out from the kitchen. “Soup? I mean, I don’t want to impose.” Kaden rubbed the back of his neck. He hated admitting that he really didn't have anywhere else to be, pathetic as that was. It was here or a bar. Which was sadder? “But yeah if you want to share, I’d stay.” His eyes drifted back towards the screen. “So this is the movie people keep asking me about?” He didn’t mean to but he kept watching, trying to piece together what was going on. “Is there a reason why the rat talks?”

“Cool, take a seat.” Grace wasted no time in portioning out the soup into a bowl. Before his arrival, she had already had her fair share. She opened her instant pot and portioned out some of the beef as well, ladling it into the bowl. She set it down at the table, just adjacent in viewing from the television. She had spent many nights there, her sketchbook in front of her while The Office played in the background. “Yeah, I think so.” She grabbed a spoon and set it next to the bowl and walked towards the couch, sitting on the arm of it. Grace grabbed the remote and fidgeted with it for a moment. “Uh, no. They don’t ever explain that. But he’s sort of got this taste for gourmet foods that the rest of his colony doesn’t understand, and so he goes to this restaurant and ends up helping this clueless American chef there…” Grace let out a laugh. Since when did she know so much about kid’s movies? She looked over at Kaden with a smile. “If you want to watch it, I think it’d give you an edge to Blanche’s teasing. Then again, she might tease you for having watched it.” 

“There’s no avoiding Blanche’s teasing, I’ve learned that much.” Kaden took a seat hesitantly, not because he didn’t enjoy Grace’s company or hospitality, but he just wasn’t used to any of this. He tried to think of how often he was really invited over to people’s houses just a year ago. Sure, he crashed with other hunters but that wasn’t the same as it was here in White Crest. It was funny how a town so hellbent on trying to kill them was sometimes so much warmer than anywhere else. “Thanks,” he told her as she sat the bowl down. She didn’t pour her own so he assumed she already had some herself. He took a spoonful, let the flavors hit his tongue and savored the meal. “This soup is great,” he said, flashing her a smile. It was different than what he would have made, certainly, but it was wonderful all the same. He listened to more of the movie as he ate, trying not to slurp too loudly as he did. “So you’re telling me the talking rat is a chef?” His brow furrowed. He had to admit, the cooking technique they were showing was accurate enough. “But why not watch something about actual rats? Or actual cooking programs?” 

“She leaves me alone. For the most part.” Grace began to press the volume button up and down, not sure if Kaden was actually into staying-- was he being nice? He seemed unsure, too. Still, he was eating the soup, that was a good sign, right? Grace swallowed the anxiety and pressed play on the movie. It was a little louder than needed, so she instead turned on the subtitles and lowered the volume. “Really, you think so?” Grace’s attention flickered to the soup on the table, then to Kaden’s face. “I’m glad.” It was one of the only things that Grace had perfected from her grandmother’s recipes. They had made it so many times together, repurposing the broth for so much more, and Grace was happy to know that others liked it just as much as she had. It was a laborious process, not easy by any means, and it took hours to make, so the fact that Kaden was grateful, it made Grace feel at ease. “Yeah, sort of? He controls the American chef by pulling on his hair from underneath his hat.” Grace laughed, knowing how absurd it was. “It’s a fun movie, I don’t think it’s that deep. Sometimes you just… sort of need something not realistic, right? Something to take away from your day-to-day-life. I can’t think of anything further removed than a rat under a man’s hat guiding him on how to cook.” Grace shrugged lightly before twisting so that she sunk into the couch, ler legs over the arm that she had previously been sitting on. “The whole purpose is that the main chef at this place, he died, and so later on it’s under some issue? I think, and then a food critic’s entire opinion on the place will either destroy it or save it, and so Remmy becomes a hero, and by proxy the chef.” 

“I’m just one of her favorite targets so I’m not surprised.” Kaden realized it had been a little while since he’d properly checked on Blanche beyond just dropping off a pie and felt a tinge of guilt, just for a second. He sighed and took another spoonful of soup. He could do that later, but he needed to make sure he didn’t accidentally dump any of the shit weighing heavily on him onto her. Maybe it was best he kept a little distance right now. “I wouldn’t say I liked it if I didn’t mean it. Wouldn’t keep eating it, either,” he told her. “Onion soup is usually my go to soup. I could make you some sometime if you want. I usually end up with enough to feed an army.” He wondered if that sounded like he was trying to compete or something. Putain. “Only if you want, no pressure.” He shook his head a little as he savored more of the broth and picked away at some of the beef with his spoon. “I don’t know. In this town, sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that normal things still exist.” People talked about escapism, usually they meant fantasy and fiction. Things they thought weren’t real but were. He knew better and the last thing he wanted was reminders of just how fucked up everything really was. For him, escapism meant pretending like none of it existed. That there was no magic, no monsters, and hell, no mimes. “So you’re telling me they let a rat in the kitchen? And the rat is the chef. And is the hero?” His eyes narrowed a moment. “Why does no one call the health inspectors?” 

 “Onion soup?” Grace asked over her shoulder, an eyebrow arched. “Like French onion?” Grace allowed the grin to pull at the corners of her lips, “you get it? ‘Cause you’re French?” To be honest, she wouldn’t even be able to tell if French onion soup was actually French or not, or if it was something thrown in to make it seem fancier than it actually was. All she knew was it was hard to clean it from mugs-- her past waitress jobs had proved as such. “Sure, I’ll give it a go. You’re eating my soup, so it’s only fair that I try yours too.” Grace thought for a moment to ask Kaden if he would bring Regan some, too, but she thought better of it at the last moment. The fiasco on the television, a clatter of cooking utensils and hurried yelling sends Grace’s attention back to the scene. “You mean to tell me that a rat under a man’s hat isn’t normal?” She said loudly over the scene, laughter edging on her tone. “Well, no, not everyone-- nobody knows he’s there except for that redheaded guy.” Grace watched the scene unfold a bit longer before she finally responded to Kaden, “I mean, why would the kid who wants to prove himself report the very reason he’s succeeding? He lies pretty much the entire time, but he gains fake respect, up until everyone discovers what’s actually happening.” Grace tapped her finger against her jaw, watching as Remmy finally disappeared from view. “I think if I ever get a rat, I’ll name him Remmy.” 

“Well, yeah I am Fr--” Kaden blinked as she filled in the blank as a joke before he could finish. He smiled back, though, shaking his head a little. “Yes, very funny. Same soup though, I believe. I think that’s what it’s called over here. Beef broth, caramelized onions, toasted bread and gruyere on top.” Now he was worrying that she wasn’t a fan. Maybe he should offer other soup. He could make other soup, too. A small sigh of relief left him as she agreed to try his recipe. “Good. Hopefully you won’t be disappointed.” For whatever reason, he didn't want to let Grace down. Maybe it was because he got the feeling too many people had done that to her. Maybe it was because too many people had done that to him. Didn’t matter. She was going to get the best soup he could muster. Stupid as that maybe. He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin and turned his attention back to the movie. “I mean in this town it could probably happen.” Which was half the problem. “I guess. But he’s going to probe himself with a rat under his hat?” It was silly and baffling. He still wasn’t quite sure he understood. But he couldn’t look away either way. “You know if you wanted a rat, we have a few you could adopt at the shelter. If you wanted. Rats make great pets. Really smart, trainable, too.” He saw the rat controlling the man with his hair and he shook his head a little again. “Not that trainable, though. For clarity.”

The volume on the television fluctuated, causing Grace to turn down the volume once more. Grace shrugged, “I’m not disappointed by a lot. I ate Easy Mac my entire first two months of living here, and in college, too.” She pulled the throw blanket from the other side of her love seat onto her lap and tucked it underneath her toes. When Kaden mentioned that something like the movie could happen in this town, Grace thought back to all of the things she had seen. No, not now. She couldn’t dive into the mysteries of White Crest, and certainly not worry about what it meant for her future, or anybody else’s future. Grace tucked the blanket underneath of her chin and tilted her head back to look at Kaden as he spoke. “Really?” She looked past him towards the tank she had gotten for Ruthie who, as always, stared her way. She had gotten used to it, and at this point, it seemed more like he was waiting for her to feed him rather than anything ominous. “I think that he could use a friend,” Grace pointed towards her fish. “It’s too bad though. About not being able to train a rat to cook. All I can seem to get right is this soup.” She propped her elbow up on the arm of the couch and pressed her fingers into her temples as she watched the food critic enter the restaurant. “Oh, this is where he’s taken back to his childhood by the way.” For whatever reason, this part of the film didn’t resonate with her-- there was nothing that could pull her away from where she was, making her succumb to an easier, prettier time. 

“A low bar. Well I’m alright with that. It’s funny how many people around here think my cooking or baking is something special or what have you. I thought it was basic at best.” Kaden shrugged. He still didn’t think he was all that talented. Good enough, sure, but that was that. “Guess this town keeps the bar pretty low for most things.” Then again, with a death rate as high as White Crest’s, you had to keep something low. He followed her line of sight to the fish. It was a goofy looking thing, lopsided eyes, but charming in its own right. “I mean, better choice than a cat, that’s for sure.” He took another sip of the soup, it was honestly hard not to continuously gulp it down, but he did want to appreciate it. “I don’t think a cat would make friends with Ruthie the way you’d hope for. And hey, it’s damn good soup. So that’s better than most people.” He thought to Blanche and her attempts at cooking and nearly shuddered. “If you want to learn more, I don’t mind teaching you. I mean, if you want. I know a few sauces. You can use it as a base for most things. No pressure, though.” At this rate, he figured he really ought to open up lessons. Invite the town. Maybe charge. He looked back to Grace who was focused once more on the movie. No, he couldn’t charge her. He sighed and ate more of the soup before turning his attention to the movie. The tall french man in the movie flashed back to when he was a child. There was no mistaking the dish was ratatouille. And sure, a good dish could make him remember times past. It was part of why he liked baking, It reminded him of those small pieces of childhood without pain. They were short and sparse but they were there. For a moment, the dumb rat movie made him feel something. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Kaden cleared his throat and tried to push away any of the strange nostalgia swirling in him, threatening to push its way out. “So you’re telling me the rat made that food?” 

“I think it’s that you do it at all,” Grace admitted as she kept her eyes on the television. The fact that Kaden had taken it upon himself several times to drop something off, even though they had hardly known each other at the time. There was guilt and pity in the hospital, but that subsided quickly. Now all Grace got from him was that he cared, which, to her surprise was genuine. There was no way he’d be able to lie about that and not falter. She had gotten good at figuring out when people were lying, mostly because of their highs and lows, the way they’d feel nervous, then determined. Her Grandma had taught her, too, how to watch out for such a thing. “Do you not like cats?” Grace cast him a glance before she looked down at the patterns on her blanket. Momentarily, Grace forgot about the constant issues between both fish and their feline friends. She let out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Probably better for Ruthie’s heart rate to keep cats away from him.” Kaden’s offer had a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. The movie descended into a montage of the after effects of the food critic’s arrival. “That’d be cool, sure.” She wasn’t sure how often she’d put anything he’d teach her to use, but he seemed genuine in his offer and she didn’t want to disappoint him. Maybe she’d be able to pay him back somehow, maybe cook something elegant using what he taught her. For a moment, Grace caught the slightest feeling from Kaden-- what had that been? Alert, Grace stared at Kaden, unable to contain her expression from understanding what Kaden had just succumbed to. “You good over there?” She asked, quick to cover up her sudden interest. “Yes, the rat made it.” Grace let out a laugh at his attempt to change the subject, though he had no clue she knew what he was trying to change it from. Grace eyed him carefully before pausing the movie so that she could now focus on she and Kaden’s conversation. “He was a good chef, what did I tell you?” Grace grinned at Kaden before looking at his bowl. “If you want to take some home, you can.” 

“I’ve lived by myself for most of my life, why wouldn’t I be able to take care of myself? Which means cooking. I don’t get why people are surprised.” He sighed. Kaden probably would have to chalk it up to cultural differences or some shit like that. He’d met too many people in town with no know how about cooking to be much else. “I like cats just fine. I was just saying I think the cat is going to like your fish a lot. And less as friends. More as food.” He looked at the poor fish. It didn’t need any more troubles, not looking like that. Swimming had to be hard while unbalanced as it was. The last thing it needed was a cat around to spook it. Or worse. “I’m fine, yeah,” he said, swishing his spoon through the soup. His brows furrowed as he thought about the question. Weird she should ask. He didn’t look off before or anything, did he? “Why wouldn’t I be?” There was no way she could know his thoughts, right? Putain, what if she could read his mind? Oh shit, he had to stop thinking about… things. Anything. How did one stop thinking about things? Putain. He didn’t know how to do that. He caught her eye as she mentioned the movie again. Alright, maybe he was overreacting. “It still seems like a silly movie. But sure. Whatever you say.” By now the soup was gone, the movie was over, and he should probably leave. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I would. But only if you have enough to spare. I don’t want to, uh, I don’t know, put you out I guess? Not sure that’s the word. But, I mean--” He paused, realized he wasn’t making any damn sense anymore and took a breath. “Yes. Let’s just go with yes.”

Grace shrugged, “I think around here, people usually cook to survive off of something, not to give it away or flaunt it.” At least, in her experience that had been the case. She only cooked her grandmother’s oxtail soup when she knew others were in need of it. Otherwise, her meals often consisted of boxed mac ‘n cheese. Not something she was afraid of admitting, but would often get looks sent her way if she did admit it. “That’s fair. I think a rat friend would be better for him.” The last thing she wanted to do was catch a cat with its paw in the tank, though she imagined if she put it up somewhere out of reach, it’d be fine for the most part. Could a fish die from shock? She filed the thought away to look into it later, just in case. Rats, for the most part, were harmless, or so Grace thought. There was a sudden surge of anxiety that rose from Kaden, making Grace’s lips twitch into a frown. Though he was trying to conceal it, it felt heavy in the room. Grace cleared her throat in an attempt to interrupt whatever Kaden was thinking, or feeling. “No, I was just making sure.” She shrugged again before getting off of the couch. Grace folded the blanket and set it to the side. “It’s a silly movie, but it’s a good movie-- they can coincide.” Grace moved towards the fridge when he expressed interest in soup to take home. The silver pot at the bottom of her fridge was still half full. “Don’t worry, it’s not like there isn’t enough-- I can’t eat all this on my own.” She began to ladle some into a to-go container after hefting the pot up onto the counter. On her tippy-toes, she looked over her shoulder. “I’ll send you a few recipes on how to repurpose the broth, too.” She turned back towards the pot, willing herself not to think too much of Kaden’s dip in emotions. 

[vs-redemption]

who are your favorite top ten my hero academia characters & ships? talk about them! ~tat!

From Cindy: Hello again Tat! Sorry, I’m a little late with posting this. Thank you for being patient. Now I’m wondering about your top ten characters and ships from my hero and black clover now. 

Again, I’m not a huge shipper so I just wrote a few that stand out to me. If anyone wants to know my thoughts or feelings on a specific ship, feel free to ask. I’m pretty much cool with anything as long as it’s legal.

Top 10 BNHA Characters

Shoto Todoroki

Todoroki will always be my precious sweetness. I really don’t think there’s anything I dislike about him. He tried to be a grumpy bean in the beginning but that didn’t last long. I admire him for wanting to be a hero even despite his tragic/horrible upbringing. I mentioned this in a different post, but I’ve really enjoyed watching him develop a sense of self and come to the realization that it is okay to open up and rely on friends. He’s willing to learn and change and grow and that’s amazing. He’s come so far in his relationship with his classmates, and his relationship with his father. I’m very proud of him! Of course, I also love the way he takes everything too literally.

Katsuki Bakugo

Another character I could write an entire essay about. Basically though, I love Bakugo’s raw passion and determination. We all know his personality is a little rough around the edges, causing people to compare him to a villain or question his goal of becoming the best hero. And unlike Midoriya, Bakugo doesn’t have the overwhelming support of family, friends, and even All Might. Despite all that, he never wavers. He continues to run full speed ahead and I admire both his independence and confidence so much. His growth as a character has been incredible too. He’s become more aware of his own shortcomings and the reasons behind them and has tried to improve upon those shortcomings without any prompting from other characters. I also love that he follows the rules and is more responsible than most of the other kids in class 1A. Plus, he can cook!

Tokoyami Fumikage

Underrated badass bird boy. The story focuses heavily on Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugo, but I think people forget that Tokoyami got third place in the sports festival. Without him, Midoriya wouldn’t have even made it to the individual fights that day. I love his admiration of his classmates. It was so cute that he hyped up Denki, recalling the way they’d bonded during the culture festival. Even just the whole thing where he figured out Hawks was in danger and escaped Fat Gum’s fat to go rescue him shows how smart and strong he is. He’s best boy.

Hawks

I know Hawks is a very controversial character, but I’m on the side of supporting him (sorry). When you think of his position when he was first introduced, he was a young, attractive hero in the number two spot with the second highest popularity rating. When he accepts the mission to go undercover with the villains, he agrees to not only put his life in danger, but also give up his reputation and trust with the public. Plus, his dedication to keeping people safe and alive is probably stronger than any other hero. The Hero Commission straight up tells him he’ll have to sit back and do nothing while innocent people get hurt, but he still refuses to let that happen by saving all those people with his feathers during the High-End nomu fight. Plus, he was able to find a way around killing Best Jeanist, and tried everything he could to avoid killing Twice. If you hate him for the things he’s done… I’m pretty sure Hawks is going to hate himself more than anyone else ever could.

Present Mic

Sometimes I forget that Present Mic has a radio show on top of his other duties as a teacher and pro hero. Does this man sleep? His work ethic must be insane. I think I really started getting into Present Mic when Todoroki and Bakugo were doing the makeup license exam. He really could not sit there and watch without providing some commentary. It was cool to see him use his quirk in a real fight during the recent arc. I wouldn’t mind seeing him doing more hero stuff in the future.

Neito Monoma

His chaotic energy brings me mass amounts of joy. Not only that, how could I possibly dislike someone who is so proud and supportive of his own classmates? Does he do it in an obnoxious way? Absolutely. But I can’t fault him for bragging about and advocating for his classmates when he knows they deserve more recognition. Also, can we talk about how amazing it is that he got into a UA hero course at all with his particular quirk? Monoma is a badass and I wish more people agreed with me about that.

Best Jeanist

Best Jeanist is my favorite pro hero. This guy really saw how savage and out of control Bakugo was and said “I really do not want him at my agency but someone has to do something about this…” Also, even when he was face to face with someone like All For One, he didn’t let the fear overtake him and decided to leave himself completely open to the full force of the attack in order to save the lives of all the other heroes around him. I have mad respect for him for having that level of bravery and resolve. Even in the most recent chapters, he shows up after so many heroes struggled and single handedly restrained Machia and the entire league of villains. So cool.

Momo Yaoyorozu

I don’t hype Momo up enough but when I think about all the things she’s done up until now I get really excited about her. I know her confidence took a huge hit after losing to Tokoyami in the sports festival, but she’s come a long way since then. I liked seeing her get the acknowledgement of Todoroki during the final exam against Aizawa. She also had a lot of badass moments in the provisional license exam against that tea drinking girl. I also really liked how much her teammates relied on her during the joint training, and her whole little rivalry thing with Kendo. I felt so bad for her in the current arc too when Midnight put so much pressure on her with the decision to either fight Machia or flee.

Shota Aizawa

Aizawa is another character that I should seriously talk about more. It’s no wonder he looks so exhausted all the time because he spends every second of his life looking after and caring for everyone with every fiber of his being. He doesn’t show it on the outside really, but he makes it clear through his actions. I like that Aizawa is one of the only people to really understand Bakugo too. He was so fast to defend him during the Sports Festival and publically criticized anyone who questioned Bakugo’s resolve to become a hero after he got kidnapped by the villains. The more you learn about Aizawa, the more you realize how amazing he is. Even the tiniest things, like finding out he re-enrolled the students he expelled to teach them the meaning of “loss” so they wouldn’t hesitate or fear it when they encountered it in the real world. I mean, I could list a million examples of why he’s amazing, including Shinso, Eri, and the whole war arc in general. Gosh, he’s incredible!

Eijiro Kirishima

Kirishima is another precious boy. I have a little bit of a bias because he has the same birthday as me, but there are plenty of reasons to love him beyond that. I think I saw him described before as the one to bridge the gap between the other students in class 1A, and I think that’s pretty accurate. He gets along with everyone and has such a positive and encouraging personality. I was honestly kind of surprised to learn that he had so many insecurities and self-doubt. I remember losing my mind over his “unbreakable” form, and I loved that he got to ‘redeem’ himself in the current arc by jumping in and saving Mina when he’d failed to have the courage to do so in the past before he went to UA.

 Top 10 6 BNHA Ships/BroTPs

Todoroki x Midoriya

I totally understand why people ship this. Midoriya played a huge role in helping Todoroki move past some of his mental obstacles that kept him from being as powerful as he could be so of course it’s not too farfetched to think he could develop deeper feelings.

Todoroki x Bakugo (brotp)

I really did not understand why people shipped this for the longest time. But after the makeup provisional license exam and internship with Endeavor I can at least appreciate them as friends. Bakugo is still so aggressive and offensive and Todoroki is standing there like “look at my best friend, I love him.”

Todoroki x Momo

I know they don’t interact as much but I do like Momo’s admiration and respect for Todoroki, and I do like the way Todoroki become more aware of her and showed concern for her self-confidence during the joint training arc.

Midoriya x Uraraka

It doesn’t really seem to be going anywhere anymore, but I do think it’s cute that Uraraka gets inspired by Midoriya’s drive to be a better hero and that she uses him to inspire her to reach for her goals. They both had the cute “getting flustered around each other” thing going on and that’s fun.

Bakugo x Uraraka

I think this ship gets a lot of criticism, right? I don’t understand why though. Sure, it’s never going to be canon but I liked that Bakugo saw Uraraka as a worthy opponent during the sports festival. Uraraka is a (not so) secret badass. I love that she did her internship with gunhead and learned all sorts of martial arts. She’s bubbly and cute, which is a nice contrast to Bakugo. But she’s also strong and determined which I think he can respect.

Denki x Jiro

This is like… really adorable. Denki praising Jiro when she was all insecure about her music was so cute. And the way they were thinking of each other and rooting for each other during the war arc. I can definitely get onboard!

[kdtheghostwriter]

SNK # 127 - End of the Night

In terms of pure composition, this is one of the best double-spreads Isayama has ever produced. I love it so much that I’m starting this meta with a breakdown of the different elements. From a wide angle this honestly looks like a Renaissance painting. The linework is crisp and the shadows are gorgeous especially in relation to Pieck’s Titan, but I want everyone to take notice of the way Isayama has blocked this scene off.

Every faction is cordoned off. The Survey Corps, The Volunteers, and The Warriors are all sat together in an attempt to break bread. The tension, however, couldn’t be more tangible. Our attention has literally been directed to it. This is so genius not only as an artistic choice but also as a cheeky answer to those critics of the closing panel of Chapter 126. No, we’re not all friends here. No, no one wants to be here doing this. Yes, we have a long way to go with not lots of time to cover. If you were to purchase the physical copy of this volume you could literally cut the tension with a knife.

I have been accused before of being afraid of confrontation. A pushover if you will. Even though I see myself as a pacifist it is not because I shy away from confrontation. Simply put, it’s much easier to disengage and go about your day. As humans, our goal on any given day is to procure our sustenance and return to our shelter. Everything else is extracurricular. It must be pointed out, then, that there is a difference to be had between being assertive and being combative.

These two have been building to a proper rematch for a minute now and despite what Annie says in the following panels you don’t just say something like this unless you’re looking for a fight. I don’t care if it’s true or not (it’s not). She knows these people well enough. She knows what buttons to press.

And this guy. Maybe this will be the end of hope that Magath is in any way reasonable. He has a soft spot for the Warriors because of his proximity to them, but he is firmly in the “My Eldians are the Good Eldians” camp. PSA: this is still racist and Not Cool, folks!

Also notice the framing here. We see the older Magath stubbornly debating with Jean over his right to keep breathing; just below him we see Reiner and his cadets. It’s much easier for people to accept and interpret new information before they are 25. Reiner is in his early 20s while Falco and Gabi are just now pubescent. They know the truth now of how the Island came to be and the war that lead to Eldia’s exile. If we assume that Magath is in or around his 40s, chances are that even with Founder Ymir’s story in hand he would find a way to blame all Paradisians (and Jean personally) for their current shitstack situation.

This gets broken up by Yelena. Abandoned by her god Zeke she sees no need to cooperate even when it is revealed that she was a Marleyean all along. Yes, the same Marley she literally volunteered to destroy because even if you’re from there it’s Fuck Marley Season.

She stirs the pot well as the one character with no more skin in the game. She brings up the fairly salient point that all of the soldiers around her have spilled way more blood, much more violently than she has. Yelena takes the cake for flamboyance but if you really stop to think about it…

Reiner’s plan to bust open the wall on that fateful day lead to the culling of one-third of Paradis’ population. Annie’s rampage through Stohess ruined countless lives beyond repair. Armin simply transforming in Liberio essentially nuked the town. Because this violence was not interpersonal like the assassination of Zackley, it doesn’t feel as extreme. This is how the Jaegerists came to exist in the first place.

And you had to figure this was coming at some point. After so much time passed Jean had certainly given up on ever learning Marco’s true fate. He’s never had a root cause to associate with his friend’s half-eaten corpse because…well, he never needed one. Humans got eaten by Titans. Most Scouts didn’t survive their first mission. And even this was after more excruciating detail offered by Reiner with no further prodding. I’ve seen some wonder why he kept talking but there’s an easy enough explanation.

The 2011 film Shame follows a young New York professional named Brandon who is a sex addict. Much ado with the title, he purposefully seduces women in relationships in hopes of getting caught and assaulted by their jealous partners. He has several reasons for doing this but it’s mostly an attempt to feel anything besides...well, you know.

Reiner is not an addict of any sort but he is very much dead inside, having suffered a series of mental breakdowns of increasing magnitude. He already hates himself for being an Eldian. He hates himself for living a lie. He hates himself for leaving his friends behind and getting Marcel killed. He sees his chance, not for forgiveness, but for human engagement. The fact that Jean is bashing his face in is a bonus for him.

This whole entire update was such a great exploration of Hange’s character but I like this scene especially because of how it mirrors Erwin during his final stand. I don’t consider it an explicit death flag or whatever. To me it’s just a natural progression of human emotion when you’re finished with running for the time being and get a chance to gather yourself. When the adrenaline wears off you really begin to question every choice that brought you to this point.

The knowledge of an outside world beyond their own should have been a triumph. The joy of discovery. The anticipation of adventure. None of which is possible because their entire island is Ex Communicado like John Wick with the Whole Entire World waiting for the first moment to end their whole career. It’s crushing and Hange sold that weight. Yet they still acknowledge that their comrades would not have wanted this outcome even if the cost was their security. It sucks! But genocide sucks more, so they have to get up and try.

Dude, tell me about it.

  Stray Thoughts

- We get a window into the multiverse that contains the Jean that followed through on his promise to have an easy life in the Central District. I like the choice to slow down the narrative a bit to have a check-in of sorts. It’s important to let your characters feel and absorb what’s happened to them. You can’t do that if you never stop moving.

- It’s cool to have Annie back but I don’t really know what to think of her yet. Does anyone else she’s going to be a wrench in whatever plan they come up with? Is that just me?

- Speaking of: killing Eren is the only way to stop him in my opinion and I think he’s counting on it. My big question is how do they get that chance? He has an army of Colossal Titans in front of him and his own Titan is gargantuan to an unimaginable degree. Nevermind the struggle of finding him and getting close. With the Coordinate under his control, he can command all of the Eldians on this team to halt their advance entirely should he choose. Mikasa is literally the one person on Earth who can stop this. Welp.

“I took a personal interest in her,” Pieck says. I mean, she’s not alone tbh.

- My initial reaction to seeing the final panel was [eeeeeks in @falcon94ssy]. Jokes aside, I have wondered for months where Kiyomi was. She is always conspicuous in her absence whenever it occurs. By the look of things, Floch (who looks gigantic here) is looking down past Kiyomi. I would be less worried for her well-being and more focused on whomever it is she’s conversing with.

[joealwyndaily]

Man About Town interview with Joe Alwyn

Fresh off the back of a star turn in Kasi Lemmons’ Harriet, we catch up with British superstar Joe Alwyn about getting into an evil mindset, playing the long-game in his career, and his upcoming role in Steven Knight’s A Christmas Carol.

words by Francesco Loy Bell

It’s an unnerving experience, having to ask an actor to fill you in on the ending of the film you’re supposed to be interviewing them about, but it’s a testament to Joe Alwyn’s charm and down-to-earth manner that he duly obliges, happily relaying the final ten minutes of Kasi Lemmons’ Harriet with an infectious enthusiasm only someone with genuine passion for a project could muster. I had been most of the way through Lemmons’ bold new offering, centred around American historical icon and slave-turned-abolitionist Harriet Tubman, when the fire alarm sounded, resulting in a hoard of shell-shocked journalists being quickly ushered out of the building, only to be told that we would not be able to watch the last 25 minutes of the film. Fast-forward 24 hours, and I can’t help but pause to reflect on the surreality of sitting across from the films horrifying antagonist as he casually explains his fate to me over coffee. More on that later, however. 

Despite being the only actor in his immediate family, it’s fair to say Alwyn inherited some of the requisite DNA to pursue a career in film, his father, a documentary-maker and his mother, a therapist. Alwyn sees both as formative, instilling him with the “curiosity for looking into people’s lives, observing, and listening to stories” that had possessed him from an early age. “I always liked going to the cinema,” he explains, “sitting in big dark rooms, watching stories. It was kind of a way to disappear.” Though he cannot pinpoint the exact ‘light bulb’ moment in which he decided to become a professional actor, he does attribute seeing Ben Whishaw as Hamlet at the Old Vic when he was 12 or 13 as foundational, and “one of those moments that stick with you, where I thought: ‘I would really like to do that’.” That feeling soon blossomed, Alwyn taking numerous shows to the Edinburgh Fringe while at school and university, shows he can now jokingly admit “should not have been seen by anyone!”

Drama school naturally beckoned, the then-graduate enrolling himself into The Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, an experience he looks back on fondly, his eyes lighting up as he recalls some of the more eccentric aspects of his time there. “A lot of rolling around on the floor, a lot of tight black clothing. And lots of trees, I was a brilliant tree,” he laughs, before informing me, in sudden deadpan: “you’re also looking at a llama.”

Alwyn probably wouldn’t have expected such a swift re-entry into the dynamic absurdity of drama school so soon after leaving, but then he probably wouldn’t have expected to be working with director Yorgos Lanthimos only a couple of years later either. Having shot his first job — Ang Lee’s reverse-engineered war film Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk — just after he graduated in 2015, Alwyn was sent the script of a then still in development The Favourite soon afterwards. “It felt like a special script. I mean, at that point, I hadn’t read that many scripts. I still was” — he catches himself, as his eyes widen in momentary wonder — “well, I still am new to this. But yeah, it was just... such a good script. I knew of Yorgos; I knew of his films. And those two things kind of narrowed together: this twisted take on a genre that can be quite conventional and stuffy, and his very unique, singular mind. It was exciting.”

A skype session with Lanthimos soon followed (“we talked about everything probably apart from The Favourite” Alwyn laughs), and the rest is history, the actor landing the role of Samuel Masham, a young baron in the court of Olivia Colman’s Queen Ann. Though his turn in the film is punctuated by exaggerated physicality — the court dancing scene with Rachel Weisz a particularly memorable example — Alwyn tells me that it was only when he got on set that Lanthimos’ true, bonkers vision began to come to life. 

“I didn’t know that it was going to become one of those moments,” he says of the dance scene and others like it. “Because in the script it just said ‘they dance’, or, ‘he chases her’.” He can’t help but smile when speaking about Lanthimos: “He is hilarious. And confusing. He doesn’t really say anything to you about conventional direction; there was no discussion of period, or etiquette, or character, or history — which I think we’d expected to a degree, just because of the nature of the film. We had two weeks of ridiculous exercises and rehearsals, where I’d be playing Olivia’s part, and Olivia would be playing Nick [Hoult]’s part, and you’d sing the lines, and you’re chasing each other, and... you don’t know what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it. And Yorgos doesn’t say anything. And then he’d get on set, and just kind of say ‘Mmm... louder, faster, quieter’.”

The profound respect Alwyn holds for Lanthimos is tangible — he responds “Yorgos again” in a flash when I ask him who he’d love to work with — and he largely credits the director’s vision for the success the film has since garnered. “He made it weird and wacky and bawdy and irreverent, and it’s just not what you’re used to seeing,” he gushes. One particular on-set tale gives some insight into the energetic nature of Lanthimos’ sets, Alwyn recollecting a close-shave experience during a flirtatious forest scene with Emma Stone which resulted in the actress being taken to hospital. “The woods scene; the rugby tackling scene. We — or I — got maybe a little too carried away in the rugby aspect of it, and Emma took a fall... which was completely my fault. She knocked herself on the root of a tree and hurt her head; the paramedics came, she had to go to hospital, and we had to stop filming for the day.” The sheer panic still momentary lingers on Alwyn’s face as he recounts the story: “She’d just won an Oscar [...] I was cowering in the corner thinking I’d just killed Emma Stone.”

Alwyn’s latest project, Harriet, is a stark departure from The Favourite, the actor trading in Masham’s comic fluidity for the chilling rigidity of Gideon Brodess, the vengeful and sickeningly violent son of Harriet’s owner. As aforementioned, it is difficult to reconcile the man sitting opposite me sipping his coffee with the evil he portrays on screen, and I’m curious as to Alwyn’s process for getting into such a poisonous mindset. “It’s tricky, because what he stands for is abhorrent, and obviously unrelatable,” he explains. “What him and his family did, and the idea of slavery, is repulsive. But I suppose with those kinds of characters you try to find some kind of humanity within them — which suits the time they were living in — to hold onto. And in Gideon’s case, it’s probably some kind of deep, repressed, buried feelings of love. Maybe love for Harriet? I don’t think he necessarily has a language for it, or even understands what it is. But he’s deeply tangled and confused inside. And you try and connect with those sides of him. But, in terms of who they are and what they stand for... it’s hard to find a way in. It’s near impossible.”

Alwyn gives a brutal performance in the film, deftly showcasing Gideon’s skin-crawling internal struggle between racist disgust, and Lima Syndrome-style  lust of Harriet, and his antagonistic villainy is the perfect foil to fellow Brit Cynthia Erivo’s stunning performance as the eponymous emancipator, Alwyn extolling her “formidable” work ethic and on-screen generosity as hugely motivational in his preparation. The story of Harriet Tubman, though well known, is perhaps not as staple a piece of knowledge in the American psyche as her actions demand, and Alwyn hopes that the film will help to give her the wider historical credit she deserves, both in the States and beyond. “Growing up in the UK,” he explains, “I didn’t know who she was, really. I’d seen her name; I’d seen the older iconic images of her. But I didn’t know her story. You hope that films like this will make it more accessible, and bring people in to learn about her and the story of what she did, what she achieved.”

As the politics of division take hold around the world, there has been an intensified focus on the debate surrounding story-telling, and the potential impact or consequence a story can have in the current climate; Todd Phillips’ Joker, for example, has faced significant criticism for potentially giving encouragement to white terrorism and racism. In this vein, the telling of stories like Tubman’s seems more necessary than ever, and this is not lost on Alwyn. “If you go on Twitter and read down on the news, there’s endless stories of division and racism, bigotry, families being torn apart at the borders. Without putting too much on it, if there was someone who represents a fight in the face of that, Harriet Tubman seems to shine pretty strong. And you’d hope that someone like her would become a part of a global curriculum at school.” Alwyn is hopeful that giving figures like Tubman their due historical credit — at least in terms of film — will universalise her all-too-recent struggle, and help unite people in the face of societal partition.

Alwyn’s next project will see him return to London, albeit a dark, Dickensian version of the city, as he takes on the role of Bob Cratchit — Ebenezer Scrooge’s much-abused clerk — in Steven Knight’s upcoming rendition of A Christmas Carol. Though he cannot give too much away, he promises the miniseries will be much darker and truer to Dickens’ sordid portrayal of London than previous versions. “It’s very much more in that kind of gritty, darker, slightly twisted world,” he explains. “It’s not as sanitised, perhaps, as most other versions are [...] it really goes into Scrooge’s own pain and why he is the way he is in quite an unpleasant way. And definitely in a way that hasn’t been seen before.”

Alwyn speaks with a soft, magnetic enthusiasm that almost makes me forget that this is indeed an interview, and I am disappointed to look down at my dictaphone and discover that our allotted time slot is drawing to a close. Characteristically, however, he laughs off any time constraint, and I am afforded some final questions. At 28 years old, the actor is arguably slightly older than some of the other industry ‘up-and-comers’ one might bracket him alongside, and I ask whether he thinks the hyper-visibility of fame elicited by social media is in part to blame for an increasing tendency to link the validity of success with being in your early 20s. Alwyn, despite having an instagram page and being in a relationship with one of the biggest musicians in the world, is notably more private than many others in his position, and he quotes a piece of advice given to him by Ang Lee on set of Billy Lynn in his response.

“It’s not a sprint,” he decides, after some deliberation. “Everyone has different ways of going. I’m still at an early stage in my career. I left Central in 2015, the first film I was in came out at the end of 2016. It doesn’t feel too long ago. I don’t think there is any right way to do it, but [...] I do think it’s an interesting point about social media and the idea of instant visibility, an instant attainment... it’s a dangerous thing to play into. And something that would be dangerous to get hooked on because I don’t think it’s real. You know, social media is [a facade]. And if you buy into that being a reality — or that’s what you go after — it’s not healthy.”

I am struck by how refreshing Alwyn’s attitude to fame is, though by the end of our conversation, I am hardly surprised. This is someone for whom the work is clearly a far superior motivational factor than fame or recognition, and this passion for his craft is evident in every project he touches. Ang Lee was right, it is a marathon rather than a sprint, but Joe Alwyn certainly seems ahead of the curve as he enters what promises to be a vastly exciting new chapter in his career. I, for one, can’t wait to see what he does next.

[emotionalteadrinker221b]

The Body Cannot Lie

Ledger Joker x Reader Oneshot

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: this oneshot explores a relationship between J and a reader who is determined to lose weight, and become healthier, and change her constant habit of turning to food for comfort.

Warnings: mentions of sex and some language; reader is unhappy with her body and wants to lose weight- if this concept is triggering for any of you, don’t read it! I’m not your mama.

A/N: I wrote this to cope with some angsty emotions I have been feeling. I am a firm believer of “journaling as therapy,” so I just kind of indulged myself as the thoughts and ideas came. I might add more if I fancy it, I might not. If you enjoy reading this, cheers! Eating healthy food is very important to me, and it is something that is obviously something that I worked into the oneshot.

______________________________________________________________________

 "Jesus Christ!" you groaned at your reflection in the mirror.

That was it. Things had to change.

Why you still chose to comfort eat was beyond you.

No more I wish I didn't eat all of that food.

You were going to simply quit turning to food for comfort.

You were going to introduce a little Control into your Life.

Control, meet Life. Life, meet Control.

I hope you two can become properly acquainted with each other, you bitterly thought to yourself.

As much as you would like to think that you ate a healthy and organic diet, you knew that in the midst of it all, food represented a comfort to you. Actually, you could trace that pretty far back into your childhood.

Growing up, your mother had always used food as positive reinforcement, as a reward. Soda, junk food, restaurant food, fast food, she bought it all for you and frequently looked for reasons to “celebrate” with food.

But at 23 years old, you were an adult and no longer a child.

You had more in your life than to continue seeking that kindred and warm feeling in food.

Simply put, eating two desserts after dinner was excessive. Christ, where had your standards gone? Had you chucked them out the window?

J was out and about taking care of some business, and God only knew when he might return.

For now, you were stuck staring at your uncouth reflection in the mirror.

Your sad eyes took in the bloated stomach, the splayed thighs, and the too-rotund face.

Deep down, you knew it was the laziness that you despised most about yourself.

The fat deposits on your body were only a physical manifestation of the lazy, slothful attitude inside.

Not going for that 7 mile run, opting for pasta for dinner instead of that kale salad for dinner, sleeping in when you could have been cleaning the house, or doing the washing, or even working out… all of the self-criticisms seemed to come at you full-force. Heck, even meal prepping for J who Lord knew didn't eat consistently enough to sustain his quick-paced criminal lifestyle.

Deep down, you knew it was all unchecked laziness.

You resolved in your mind that you weren't going to let it go any further.

Although you didn't want to, you stepped on the scale and forced yourself to write down the number that you saw.

130 lbs.

Cringe!

On your 5'4" frame, that was simply too much fat and mass. You had to burn some of it off.

You knew that you wanted to be 20-35 pounds lighter than that.

You made a promise to yourself that you were going to lose the weight, and you were going to check in with yourself each day, to make sure that you were hitting your goals.

You needed discipline, and you needed to lay off turning to food for comfort.

Sex, you thought. Sex burns calories. A smile crept upon your face as this thought crossed your mind.

J couldn't complain with you asking for more, when it was usually him nudging up against your body under the covers or bounding after you in the shower.

Well hey, it would be like getting another workout in during the day, with as hard as J liked to go. You didn't know how it was possible, but sometimes it seemed as though he could go on for hours. His appetite was insatiable and consuming.

The way he would grab onto your hips and just thrust and grind, it was like he could go on forever. The ecstasy would build, and build, until it would become too much, and you two would both collapse in a hot and exhausted heap on top of each other.

Your gaze returned to the mirror, and reality dawned upon you. Why would J ever want to fuck you? You were… dare you say it?

Fat.

You had grown up with a mother who struggled with her own weight, and who probably hovered at or around 200 pounds for as long as you could remember. You had memories of her lifting up her shirt in the mirror with tears in her eyes, mourning the rolls on her stomach, and you knew.

You didn't want that to be you when you got older.

If it was something you had learned in the past, if you didn't have a set goal, you would never get where you wanted to go.

You resolved to weigh 119 at the end of the week. Today was Monday, so by Friday, you resolved to weigh 11 pounds less than what you currently did, which also included water weight.

Happy and set on meeting your goal, you set about cleaning the living space that J shared with you. Crikey, you thought. Things could sure get messy when you weren't paying attention.

119 was just enough to get you motivated to lose more, to eventually get down to 110 and eventually 105. you were excited just thinking about the possibilities, sure, J enjoyed fucking you now, but when you were 20 pounds less? He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you. You would be tantalizing. A delicacy he couldn't resist.

You fantasized about running longer distances and being so much more light on your feet without so much weight weighing you down. You were so excited to meet your goals. You knew that you could do it, you just knew that it would take a lot of hard work and determination.

Of course, by being diligent and losing weight, you would be proving yourself a dedicated and goal-oriented person. Someone that J would be proud of! Although he never divulged details with you, you knew that he pored over his plans and perfected them to a T, so that they would go off without a hitch.

Yes, you loved food, and it brought comfort, but you reminded yourself that it was for fuel, nothing more.

As you were thinking about your new weight-loss endeavours, you made your way into the kitchen to take a quick inventory of what was in stock.

Hmm. You would have to make another trip to the store to buy some fresh things. You knew that J really needed proper fuel, and so you thought of all of the delicious meals you could make him, while making salads for yourself. You prided yourself on your healthy but tasty and delicious cooking.

You knew that he liked practically anything you made, that he wasn't picky.

You checked the time. It was 1 in the afternoon. Hmm. If you started now, you would have time to finish cleaning the apartment and get everything else done. Maybe later in the evening you would even get to the online coursework that you had.

You poured yourself some more coffee (magic get 'er done fuel, as you liked to think of it), and set to work.

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

You already felt much better after your run, and much more refreshed.

You checked the clock. 6:14 pm. Perfect. You set to preparing J's dinner and chopping up the ingredients for your salad.

You set the surround stereo system in the kitchen to play your favourite 90s music. You didn’t hear the door open as you were singing along to yourself with the Gin Blossoms about Mrs. Rita.

J loved sneaking up on you and scaring you half to death.

"Gotcha!" he said suddenly as he came up behind you, seizing your arms.

You were temporarily taken off guard, although not frightened, by his antics.

"J! I have a knife!" you protested, as you wielded the stainless-steel IKEA knife you reserved for chopping your salads.

"Do you really wanna threaten me with that, sweet cheeks?" J asked you suggestively, his voice suddenly going all throaty.

Damn, why did he have to go on arousing you, here, in the kitchen? You were making a freaking salad, for Christ's sakes! A kale salad!

"J, just hold on, not now, okay? I am making you dinner."

J looked temporarily put out, but then perked up at the prospect of eating a homecooked dinner you had made him.

"I was wondering what smelled so good," he wondered aloud, as he peered over your shoulder to see the pasta that was in the skillet on the stove.

"Can't have my favourite raccoon starving, now can I?"

"What? Did. You. Just. Call. Me."

A giggle escaped your throat.

"Nothing, nothing, not a thing…."

Truth was, you thought that J looked a bit like a petulant raccoon with his kohl eyes and white face when he was in full costume. He could be a bit melo-dramatic sometimes. It just made him more endearing to you.

J blinked, and then conceded, "Aw babe, you have no idea. I've been starving, for you. All. Day."

The words made you blush, and you felt a kindred warmth grow in your abdomen, but you set to finishing his and your dinner.

You started to plate his food, and the temptation to pour yourself a glass of wine was very strong, but you remembered your resolution earlier today, and stuck with water. How a beverage that was so fermented managed to have so much sugar was beyond you, but you remained steadfast in your prior determination to lose 11 pounds by the end of the week.

You handed J his food, and saw his eyes widen in anticipation.

He didn't even sit down, he just started eating it standing up right after you gave it to him. Such was his appetite.

He had already plowed halfway through the giant plate of pasta you gave him, by the time you sat down to eat your plate of kale salad with flaxseed crackers.

"Babe, I don't know how you do it, but your food is always perfect," J stated, between mouthfuls of vegetable pasta.

"Aww gee thanks, I am flustered," you blushed.

"How far did you go today?" J asked you, his eyes taking in your running clothes and flushed face.

Ever so observant.

"8 miles," you replied, actually slightly disappointed you hadn’t gone further. Tomorrow, you would go farther, you promised yourself. Tomorrow, you would make it 10 miles.

He glanced at the contents on your plate, once again looked at your sweaty running attire, but said nothing.

His eyes roamed over to the skillet on the stove, obviously hoping for more pasta. You were going to plate yourself some, but thought better of it. You would make do with your kale salad and flax crackers. Heck, you might even treat yourself to an orange for dessert. Lord knew the metabolism of the man seated in front of you never stopped and was going miles per minute. He simply required lots of fuel to keep going.

You took his plate and refilled it with what was left on the stove, returned it, and sat back down.

You actually weren't hungry after running, but you knew that if you didn't refuel now, you would be hungry in the middle of the night. You also knew the importance of eating plenty of fiber to keep a flat stomach.

You asked him questions about his day, and as per usual, he responded with vague one-word answers. You didn’t press for more information, although you knew that it most likely included “criminal activity.”

J's eyes still continued to roam the kitchen, and you realized that he was still hungry. Boy, to say that he had an appetite to rival your own was an understatement. You had boiled a whole box of quinoa-brown rice spaghetti! And he ate it all! And still wanted more!

You walked over to the counter and plated him some of the leftover salad and toasted some sprouted gluten free bread, and you set to preparing him some fruit. Goddamn it, if he had an appetite, he was at least going to be fueled with real food, no processed crap, like what you grew up on. If nothing else, you had standards when it came to food quality. That was an unshakable and indisputable fact.

You returned to where he was seated at the table with a whole new plate of food for him, which he readily set to eating.

You thought he might appreciate dessert, so you whipped up some dark chocolate avocado mousse with some of the ripe avocadoes and bananas that were on the counter. You really did feed him well.

When dinner was over, you cleaned up the dishes and went upstairs to shower and crash in bed with a mug full of hot tea and a full water bottle. You actually really didn't want the wine, now that you thought about it. This actually wasn't going to be as hard as you thought it was going to be.

You made your way to the bedroom that you and J shared, and you began stripping off your sweaty running clothes. Peeled off, more like. Fully bare, you made your way into the en-suite washroom and let your body relax in the shower as the hot, steaming water washed over you.

Fully clean, you stepped out of the shower, and toweled yourself off. You slipped into one of J's shirts, which fit loosely (thankfully, if it fit snug, you would know that you were really overweight) on you, and climbed into bed with a book, hair drying.

You were so immersed in your book, you didn't notice that your tea had gotten cold, nor that J had entered the room, nor did you notice the time.  

"Thought you can just steal my clothes, hmmm?"

Your head shot up at hearing J's voice. You had a very focused attention span, so when you focused on something, you were easily startled by interruptions.

What time was it? Jesus! It was nearly midnight. Your hair was long since dry.

"What?" you thought, a bit unfocused. Your mind was still in the book you were reading.

"You know stealing is punishable by law," J drawled, coming closer to you, taking off his green vest and unbuttoning the light purple dress shirt underneath. As he spoke, you heard the swish! of one of his many pocket knives.

"You wouldn't dare," your voice, taunting, was laced with the anticipation that you felt at the insinuation in his tone.

"You bet, sugar. I've waited all day for this. Work before play, I always say. I won't deny that you have wicked skills in the kitchen, but in the bedroom, they are just downright sinful."

You noticed that his tone dropped to a significantly more throaty decibel that wasn't quite human anymore. The dawning realization made you shiver, but you weren't cold.

J prowled to where you were curled up underneath the covers, and already you saw the excitement in his trousers. The body of a man cannot lie, you thought, with relish. Actually seeing it made you feel excited, too.

You saw the glint of the knife in his hand.

Honestly, there were no boundaries with what J might bring into the bedroom.

His eyes were suddenly not human anymore. They were purely feral. Primal. Animalistic. Hungry.

He wanted it, and he wanted it, now.

And you were going to give it to him. More calories burned, you thought happily.

[nijiirorhyme]

NaruMitsu/WrightWorth Fic: Lights, Camera, Action!

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Ship: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Warnings: None

Tags:Alternate Universe - Actors, Other Additional Tags to be Added, More characters to be added

Description: Rookie actor Phoenix Wright can not believe his luck as he scores his first major acting role in one of the most anticipated movies of the year. But, what was better than starring in one of the most anticipated films of the year? Starring in one of the most anticipated films of this year with famous actor Miles Edgeworth.

A Wrightworth acting au where two dorks (eventually) fall in love!  

Chapter 1/?

Alternatively, it can be read here!

Text underneath cut!

Act 1 Scene 1

 October 5th, 11:00pm

 Phoenix’s Apartment

Phoenix COULD NOT believe his luck. It was as if lady luck herself were watching over him specifically, feeling so sorry for him that she had to throw him a bone. He could not thank her enough. It seemed as if his life were doing a complete turnabout. Up until now and ever since he had graduated from some third rate university’s performing arts program, he never had the pleasure of striking a role anywhere near being a part of the main cast, but this, this was different. Sure, he had made small cameos as extras in movies, but none of those were enough to give him the boost he needed to put his name on the map. This was the real deal. He would have lines to say, scenes to act, parts where he’d be the one in the limelight. He was just offered the biggest acting gig in his entire life.

‘Lady luck, I know I asked you for help last night,’ he thought to himself, ‘but you didn’t have to go this far for me!’

But, what was better than starring in one of the most anticipated films of the year? Starring in one of the most anticipated films of this year with someone who was currently the world's most famous actor. Miles Edgeworth, a man who the world knew nothing about personally, but that his acting was absolutely phenomenal. Everyone— even their mothers and grandmothers— knew of him, but, it wasn’t until Pearls dragged the man to see one of her cheesy, sappy romance movies starring the mysterious man himself that he finally saw what justified the hype around him.

Romance movies weren’t really Phoenix’s thing as he tended to sleep through most of them. What he could recall of the movie, however, was that the plot was pretty standard; the main female protagonist living her life in poverty while her male counterpart was born into a wealthy family. After the two miraculously begin to date, the couple struggles to find acceptance from the man’s family as they already had a fiance picked out for him. This was all quite cliche in Phoenix’s book, but there was one scene in particular that stuck out to him.

Failing to gain acceptance from the man’s family, the man and the woman impulsively run away together during an explosive argument that erupted between the four. Well, more-so drove away, but that was besides the point. The rain pelted down upon their car as they drove down the winding road as fast as they could, but that had been the man’s fatal mistake. As they came upon their final turn, the man lost control of the steering wheel and the speed they had garnered caused the car to topple over several times before it finally came to a stop. Somehow (though Phoenix thought this defied all odds), the man was fortunate enough to only receive injury to his right arm and was able to wiggle himself free from the car, however, his girlfriend was more than misfortunate. The adrenaline pumped through his blood as he ignored his arm’s cry in pain as he tried to wretch her free from the car. His hands were covered in her blood as he laid her on his lap, knowing the inevitable that she would succumb to her injuries before they were even able to call for help.

His eyes looked into hers, a mix of pain and regret swirling around in his dark orbs. He drove too fast, he should have taken his time, he was about to lose the love of his life— Her voice was enough to snap him out of his thoughts, the booming sound of the thunder almost deafening. She gave him her final words, and just like that, the final bit of life evident in her eyes finally fades and her body goes limp in his arms. The man looked up to the overclouded sky, the rain beating upon his face as he gave  the heavens one last dramatic scream of her name before the movie faded away into a pitch black.

Throughout the entire scene, all Phoenix could do was stare at the big screen. There was something mesmerizing about the way Miles Edgeworth acted. He analyzed the actor’s every move, even the subtle ones that would be invisible to those who didn’t graduate from a third-rate performance arts program, yet contributed an overarching mood to the entire scene. The way his face contorted and twisted and scrunched up in pain as he was filled with regret from his actions, the way his eyes looked into hers in desperation that this was all just a dream— that he wasn’t just about to lose the one he fought so hard alongside, it left a heavy feeling in Phoenix’s chest that almost burst forth from it in the form of tears. Miles Edgeworth brought life to a character from a movie genre Phoenix hated, and not only made him sympathize with the corny character, but almost made him tear up, which to this day he still could not believe.

Phoenix was never a fan of romance movies, especially the ones that Pearls picked out (though he never voiced his complaints aloud) because he thought he could feel his teeth rotting away in his mouth from the sheer sappiness and disgusting sweetness of them, but this one was the only one he approved of.

… Even though it was at the expense of his own friend’s enjoyment.

Phoenix sighed at the memory of what happened afterwards. Pearl was the type of hardcore romance fan who only gravitated towards romance movies where the couple lived happily ever after at the end. Why she chose this movie was beyond Phoenix. Perhaps she glossed over the summary of the story after selectively reading the part where the female protagonist goes from “rags-to-riches” and thought it was something along the lines of Cinderella, completely missing the “this tragic story of her attempt to go from rags-to-riches”... or something. She was so depressed that even Phoenix offering to watch her favourite lovey-dovey romance movie for the gazillionth time wouldn’t cheer her up.

From that point on, Miles Edgeworth swept up the nation’s awards that year for his acting in that movie, including the “Best Male Lead Actor of the Year” award at the Movie of Movies Grand Prix— and to Phoenix, rightfully so. The man’s performance was amazing, yet he couldn’t help wanting to pick a bone with the panel of judges who thought that it deserved “Best Movie of the Year”. He totally thought that the Steel Samurai movie deserved to win (not like he had a bias or anything because his friend Austin Powers starred in it); just because one actor’s acting was remarkable, did not mean that the rest of the movie lived up to such a word.

This was the man that Phoenix had the pleasure of working with and although a part of him was excited, an immense sense of pressure ruined it. Miles Edgeworth was a man who had years of experience under his belt in comparison to himself. That fact in itself was enough to make the butterflies in his stomach awake from their slumber; he hadn’t felt this nervous in ages.

Phoenix glanced at the thick booklet of papers in his hand titled "No Time for Turnabouts: Script”, its thick blocky text staring back at him. With an unsteady sigh, he flipped it open to the first page. If Phoenix wanted to impress Miles Edgeworth at tomorrow’s pre-production meeting, there was only one thing he could do. If he couldn’t rely on his acting skills to impress him, the least he could do was come prepared to what he was about to walk into.

 October 6th, 10:00am

Global Studios: Dressing Room

“For the last time, must I act with such an incompetent rookie?” Miles looked at his manager, eyes narrowed fiercely in an attempt to assert his dissatisfaction at the current situation. “He’s not had any starring roles within the span of his career,” is what a quick IMDb search of the other’s peculiar name told the man. “In fact, I’ve never heard of him before.”

The girl sitting adjacent from him brought a dainty teacup to her lips, taking a sip of her tea before placing it back on its saucer with a cold clink, the cunningness of her eyes colliding with his own, “And like I have told you when you foolishly asked several foolish times before this, it is not within my control,” she shrugged, her mouth curling into a shit-eating grin, “You’ll just have to suck it up, little brother.”

Miles scoffed, but she had a point. It wasn’t his manager, Franziska Von Karma, hiring the cast for this movie, it was the director. This director was someone who he had worked with in the past and every single time, Miles had loved every single creative direction he had taken with the movie; as did the audience, each movie of his being met with positive reviews from viewers and film critics alike. Miles did not doubt his abilities and because of his positive reputation within the film industry, if he wanted to hire a rookie whose career only consisted of being an extra for a few scenes in a few big movies, all he could do was put his faith in him. However, just because he put his faith in him did not mean he approved.

He took a sip of his own tea, before he glanced at the expensive watch adorning his wrist. Today was their first proofreading of the script. There, Miles could finally see who this Phoenix Wright man was.

“Come now, you fool, or we’ll be late.” Franziska was already rolling up her whip in a neat circle and heading towards the door.

Miles put his tea cup down on the glass coffee table, moving his hands to fix his jabot as he stood up. Miles Edgeworth was a man with high standards, and whoever this Phoenix Wright was, Miles hoped he could meet his expectations.

 October 6th, 10:00am

Global Studios

Phoenix’s days couldn’t have been getting any better. The rookie actor was known for never being on time for anything—often receiving a scolding from Maya as a result—but just this once, he had managed to be punctual— if not a little early— for the one thing that mattered the most. He thanked god that he had the foresight to check whether or not he had set his alarm for A.M instead of P.M before he went to bed last night. Phoenix checked himself in the mirror once before he left the house; donning a plain white dress shirt and navy blue slacks. He adjusted the tie around his neck, the last thing he wanted to do was make a bad impression. Giving himself one final hurrah, encouraging himself in the mirror with “you can do this”, and “you got this”, he left his small flat with his head held high.

However, at this point in time, the closer he got to the time of the pre-production meeting, the more nervous he felt. He stood outside the meeting room, checking his wristwatch as he shifted in place from the heels of his feet to the balls of them.

“Nick!” Behind him, a set of hands placed themselves on his shoulder as a familiar energetic voice spooked him out of his nervousness, causing him almost to jump out of his skin. “Are you nervous?”

Phoenix peered over his left shoulder, unsurprised at who it was. It was Maya, who decided to meet him at the studio. If Phoenix had to go in there alone when his agent was perfectly capable of accompanying him, he would curse her to hell and back.

He clutched his chest, heart beating rapidly in his ears. Then, he relaxed and exhaled an exasperated sigh as if this has happened one too many times, “You scared me, Maya!” He exclaimed. “How many times are you going to do this?”

Even if he used the fingers on both of his hands to count all of the times Maya has done this to him before an audition or anytime he was nervous for that matter, he couldn’t. Mainly because for one, he had been to several auditions in the past few years; and two, he didn’t keep track of how many times she did. He stopped counting after the fifth time when he knew it would become a regular occurence.

“Would it be bad if I said never?” Maya giggled.

Phoenix sighed again, “I figured as much…”

“I’m sorry, Nick! It’s just so funny every single time. Remember that time before that one audition when I scared you so bad you spilled your cup of water all over yourself and it looked like you peed your pants-“

Before Maya could say anymore, Phoenix covered her mouth with his hand, wrenching it back in disgust after he felt something wet against his palm. Maya stuck out her tongue and grinned  childishly as Phoenix furiously wiped his hand against his pant leg. He exhaled, “If I asked you to let that go, I’d get the same answer as before, wouldn’t I?” At this point, defeat would be the only option to settle for.

She put her hands together like she always did and with a big smile on her face, she nodded, “You know me so well.”

The two of them continued their friendly banter, most of which consisted of bringing up terribly embarrassing events that had happened to them in the past in an attempt to embarrass the other. This calmed Phoenix’s nerves immensely; Maya always knew how to calm him down despite always scaring him half out of his wits.

“Are you nervous?” She asked, shifting the topic of conversation to something more relevant than reminiscing on their past embarrassments.

The question was like a reality slap, reawakening the butterflies he had thought he thoroughly rid himself of. “Of course, this is my first time ever getting something better than being an extra. A lot is riding on this, Maya.”

“It’s okay Nick!” She jabbed him lightly in the shoulder… Whatever her definition of “lightly” was. Phoenix rubbed his shoulder. That was definitely going to bruise over. “Just remember this, this is your big chance! Your break-through! Your primer!”

“I think you mean ‘premiere’...”

“All eyes will be on you! If you do great, then you’ll get more work!” She encouraged him, jumping to stand in front of him. She closed one of her eyes while she formed her fingers into a rectangular shape as if she were filming him. Even though it wasn’t a real camera, he still felt a little embarrassed, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. While he appreciated the sentiment, he knew where this was going.

“But…” He added on for her.

“But, if you mess up in your usual ‘Phoenix Wright Fashion’, then you can kiss your non-existent acting career goodbye!” She said in a type of pure adolescent innocence, putting her hands on her hips.

Phoenix shoved his face into his palm, “Thanks Maya…”  

“Any time.” She beamed at him, genuinely convinced that her words were words of encouragement instead of ones that felt like he had been stabbed in the heart.

Suddenly, as if something had caught in the corner of her eye, she looked down the hallway. “Psst, Nick!! Nick!!” She ecstatically whispered in a half-whisper-half-regular tone. “Is that Miles Edgeworth?!”

Phoenix followed her line of vision to the figure emerging from one of the many rooms down the hall. He knew that burgundy suit from anywhere, the feature that many people recognized him for. There was no one else in the world who could wear a suit that colour and could successfully pull it off, in Phoenix’s humble opinion.

The tall man stalked down the hallway accompanied by a shorter woman which Phoenix assumed to be his agent, Franziska von Karma. Although they weren’t close yet, he could feel the immense pressure in the air from the dignified aura that the two created. There was something intimidating about their aura, an elitist air that clearly separated the two individuals who were experienced in their field from the two weren’t-- almost as if it screamed ‘don’t talk to us’. Was that how it was around every famous actor?

“T-They’re coming closer to us! What do we do, Nick? Do we introduce ourselves?” Maya panicked, the words flying from her mouth at a mile per minute.

“Well, we are standing in front of the meeting room and from today on, he is our co-worker,” Phoenix whispered back to her, his tone more hushed than hers. “I think… I think we should greet them.” He suggested.

The two nodded as if they had come to an understanding by looking into each other’s eyes. Then, on the mental count of three that perfectly aligned with their arrival, Phoenix stiffly began, “Hi! I see we’ll be working together, Mr. Edgeworth. In that case, i-it’s nice to meet you!” He stuck out a hand, hoping the man would outstretch his own to shake it.

The man came to a stop and instead of getting a comforting smile and the handshake he desired, all Phoenix got was a piercing glare full of annoyance. “Mr. Wright,” he scoffed. “I would ask that you keep your interactions with me at a minimum and you do not waste my time by trying to talk to me.” With that, Edgeworth strode past him into the now open meeting room, his agent following behind him, smirking at Phoenix as she entered.

After recovering from the utter shock known as his first impression of the famous actor he had only seen on the big screen thus far, Phoenix turned to Maya, hoping that she would confirm that what just happened was just his mind’s cruel idea of a joke. Unfortunately, Maya nodded at him, confirming that what just happened was in fact not a figment of his imagination. For some reason, the famous Miles Edgeworth disliked the unknown rookie, Phoenix Wright.

‘What…’ Phoenix gulped. ‘What did I do..?!’

[texanredrose]

I’m curious bc i’ve seen a lot of opinions and you seemed to have some great insight regarding ironwood,,,,what are your thoughts on winter’s characterization this volume(and overall ?? Also what do you think of her dynamic with weiss has evolved and her new dynamic with penny

Winter is my favorite dumbass.

I mean this with all sincerity; while most thought her introduction in V3 was some flavor of badass, I was headdesking because ‘holy shit, you stupid Private, what are you doing, this is why you need an adult, where’s your NCO?’ so I definitely have a different take on Winter overall than a lot of people. That being said, I spoke back during the V3-V4 days that Winter was a lot of things, like 1) a very young, very stupid soldier, 2) a big sister who was earnestly trying but, also, very bad at being a good big sister, and 3) still very much a product of her upbringing and hadn’t yet broken away in the same manner Weiss had. This volume has taken the next logical step on all three points.

Winter is aware of her role as a young, stupid soldier. She talks to Weiss about it, and how she’s taken the mission handed to her and made it her own. Something I’ve spoken about regarding the military in general is that, if you try to join the military without a clear reason, a driving force that ties you to your service, it’s just going to be pain and misery, or you’re going to reach a point where continuing to serve just isn’t worth it. Generally speaking, the military targets young, poor people with few avenues to escape or better their life situations. That driving force- the idea that, no matter how shitty your situation is, it’s better than where you came from- keeps a lot of people going, keeps them in line, allows them to fit the soldier mold. That’s not Winter; she has other avenues to pursue now that she’s armed with the skills and world knowledge to do so, much in the same way Weiss has. Winter initially used the military as an escape from Jacques, and that was her driving force prior to being designated for the Winter Maiden powers. Something I said last week was that, if she continues to follow orders, then she’s traded one set of chains for another, and this is what I was talking about when I said that. If Winter’s truly taking this mission as her own, making it her driving force- that is, actually becoming the Winter Maiden- then she’s going to rebel against Ironwood. It would be regression of her character to fall back in line; not only that, it just wouldn’t make sense in general, because she’s not in, say, Emerald’s position, where there’s nowhere to go back to if she breaks away. Winter has her huntress license, she has been earning some manner of money outside of Jacques’ allowances (remember her conversation from V3), and she’s well traveled, having been to/lived in at least Atlas, Mistral, and Vale. She has options and she’s about to have the powers of the Winter Maiden. The moment those powers are in her hands, she’s not a soldier any more, and I think she realizes that. It’s playing a long game, in a sense, but if temporary obedience secures her power that will ensure no one can chain her again, it really puts her behavior throughout the show in a more sensible light. Her criticism of Qrow, fighting him in public, watching over Penny- she’s proving herself constantly as someone who will safeguard whatever she’s told to... but not without keeping her own priorities in mind.

Her own priorities being: Weiss. Winter’s a big sister, but not a good one in some sense, and that’s not exactly her fault. Given the home situation for the Schnee family, Winter’s attempts to support and teach Weiss are tough love bordering on abusive, though I’m certain there’s no intent on Winter’s behalf to be anything other than a stellar role model for her younger sister. It’s just an unfortunate side effect of their upbringing. We see this characterized most clearly when Winter’s trying to offer commentary on Weiss’ differing form that continuously comes off as condescending. It isn’t until Weiss’ flippant, almost teasing replies that Winter appears to realize what she’s saying is not what she’s trying to say. Arguably, this could be a result of her interactions with Penny but could also just be that Winter’s genuinely bad at interpersonal relationships. For the former, Penny doesn’t have the baggage that Weiss and Winter have; she doesn’t have years of being subjected to thinly veiled insults and constant diatribe to shape her own inner voice. Ergo, when Penny hears something, she takes it at face value. For example: “I counted three missed strikes.” Weiss took this as a criticism, because, let’s face it, it sounded like a criticism. It was blunt, harsh, and a statement that could’ve definitely been worded to be more constructive. Penny, on the other hand, would probably be interested in which strikes were missed, because she doesn’t instinctively take criticism to be a bad thing. Winter’s extended interactions with Penny, I think, have made it easier for her to open up and explain, offering more than the clipped, blunt responses we saw in V3- understandable, as Penny would logically need more explanation, as her world knowledge is markedly less than everyone else, on account of her unique beginnings- but they didn’t reteach her how to be mindful of her words. It’s when Weiss teasingly responds that Winter’s like ‘oh, shit’ and starts paying more attention to her word choice. As I said, she’s genuinely trying to be a good big sister and role model, but she’s been bad at it in the past to varying degrees. However, Weiss has forged her own path, and Winter recognizes that, and it’s in this manner that they start repairing their relationship as sisters. I have more than one AU where Winter is Penny’s surrogate mother in one form or fashion, primarily because I realized at their introduction that Penny could be the one to help Winter realize her own faults, especially juxtaposed with Weiss. This volume’s nailed that on the head, giving enough context that we can easily fill in the blanks on Winter’s off screen character development and where it stems from.

Now, as I said, Winter and Weiss forged their own paths through life. Now, they stand as equals of a sort, pioneering their own ways forward, and choosing for themselves what to fight for and what to protect. Unfortunately, among other things, this volume has wrapped up- in a sense- Winter’s character arc. Winter was initially introduced by name only in V2, where Weiss was hesitant to talk to her even though she obviously regards Winter highly. In context, we can take this to mean that Weiss thought she hadn’t progressed enough to impress Winter at that point in time, so opted not to talk to her. In V3, we see Weiss trying desperately to earn Winter’s approval, and getting a facsimile of that just before they part. In V4 and V5, we see Weiss dealing with the concept that she can’t rely on Winter to help her and must fight her own battles. Here in V7, Weiss has grown beyond needing Winter’s approval and validation, but gaining both all the same. Winter’s gone from being a strict, harsh older sister who genuinely cares about her inexperienced younger sister while not being able to communicate that well to a more relaxed, more open older sister who sees her younger sister as an equal. I would love to see Winter take the Maiden powers, desert the Atlesian military, and go into hiding to train with her new powers while RWBY continue their hunt for the artifacts, as I think this would open up a new avenue for both Weiss and Winter- essentially, the next chapter in their evolving relationship, not only sisters overcoming trauma but allies in a global war- but I’m also not holding my breath, as I would find it especially amusing if Winter’s been using her time with the current Winter Maiden to talk about Weiss, knowing her sister would be a better candidate for the powers (which may have something to do with why she was so adamant Weiss learn how to develop her semblance on her own, so she’d know how to hone the Maiden powers) and standing ready to feign surprise when she doesn’t inherit the powers herself, thereby undermining Ironwood without him being any the wiser as to how.

Ultimately, though Winter’s character development is mostly off screen and has to be tied together using context, I think she’s come a long way as a character and as a person, and she’s an excellent example of how people who undergo trauma may make some mistakes born from that trauma but can still heal and rise above it. They just need to be called out in a way that’s going to help them realize what they’re doing, and it’s gratifying that it was Weiss who’d matured faster and to a point where she could help Winter take the last steps towards making herself a better person.

And if Winter takes the Maiden powers and then remains loyal to Ironwood, she’s literally just a dumbass soldier and I’m going to keep calling her a fucking butter bar. Would it undo a lot of her character progression? Yes and no, as soldiers are, by definition, kinda mcfucking stupid, so it wouldn’t surprise me if, in that soldier mentality, Winter makes the dumb decision instead of the right one.