#shes very much someone who is smart but also follows the tides and only really rebels when its the popular counter culture to do

[wheelercore]

Constantly thinking abour karen wheeler btw but in a way that makes everyone here super madsies

[sereisstuff]

ɪɴꜱᴛᴀɴᴛᴀɴᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇꜱ

noun

plural noun: curses

1.

a solemn utterance intended to invoke a supernatural power to inflict harm or punishment on someone or something.

Tale of the story: Jungkook; a demigod. Fell in love with a mortal, in most stories the mortals die. What makes you think this one is any different.

Plus size reader (Not implied, but I only write for plus size readers so any, and every story on my page that I’ve written is implied, plus-size reader)

Warnings: self-inflicted harm (not intentionally) mentions of blood. Swearing? very rushed. Little dialogue at times. Angst! Fantasy.

Inspiration was when I was staring out the car window like four hours ago, so do what you will with that information. Song's I recommend is a runaway from aurora and the seed.

Not proofread

Your hair bustled in the wind, mimicking the waves before them. A deafening shriek, melodiously flowing through the air as the heavy roars of Poseidon fell before you. Oh, how you wished this day could end, it was all due to your imaginative stupidity which led you to your untimely decisions. Your curiosity piqued a much greater meaning as you stumbled upon something you shouldn’t have, something so tender that not even your callous human hands could grasp.

It was a warm day when you stumbled upon Jungkook bathing under the waterfall, by far the most exquisite figure you’ve ever laid your eyes on. It was odd, he was handsome, so handsome your mind couldn’t comprehend his features. So defined in the most perfect places but even his flaws held beauty. Something you wouldn't ever say to yourself, you were so busy lost in his exotic features that as you examined him, your once starstruck eyes turned into shocked ones.

His feet replaced by fins connecting his toes, strong legs glistening under the water almost gloss like. If you hadn't gasped aloud, you wouldn’t have caught the creature's focus. His charismatic eyes faded into anguish and he held his breath as if you would slowly forget him, which you wish he implied on you at this moment.

Jungkook was a rather charismatic being, so full of life. He told you many things, the beings he encountered, his descendancy and you were absolutely enchanted by it all. Jungkook went from being the eye that captured you to the person you needed the most. So much had happened that the dangers you encountered soon became normalised. He wasn’t a god nor was he human, he was a demigod.

And you can recall the very moment he told you…..

“You know, I’ve known you for a while now. Yet, you still can’t give me a direct answer as to what you are? Who you are? You know so much about me but I know nothing about you” you asked, it was very true. You often got lost in your rambles that by the time he watched you walk into the night back to your residency, you no longer had time to ask him who he truly was, it was almost like you forgot. Every. Single. Time.

Jungkook stared at his reflection beneath him, toes curling just before the water and he wondered. Was it truly something he wanted you to know, did he no longer honour his people's secrecy, it was as if the water would always be a part of him and just like the tides. He was pulled from his desire to feel ‘normal’, that the other part of him wanted nothing more than to run from the ocean.

“I don’t know what I am either” he spoke, voice tough in correspondence “I’m many things, to many beings. I’m a prince to countless, an heir to others. A beast of life to some, but to you and your people, I am a demigod. A halfling cursed with humanity, I’m telling you this because as we’ve ventured, I’ve given you my trust and you’ve done nothing to betray it” Jungkook's voice was soft, as always. His curious gaze lifted from beneath his fallen hairs, strayed from their roots and moved like silk from his eyes as the wind touched his bristles.

Your bottom lip curled between your teeth in thought, it wasn’t hard to believe because at this point in time. This was the least likely to be the most unbelievable.

“If you're a demigod as you say, and your source correlates with the water. Does this mean your father is….poseidon?” came your question, your needy eyes now meet by his doe ones. His brows furrowed in response as if it was hard for him to communicate.

With his intense gaze, he nodded, ever so slowly. It was a painful nod, one stricken in fear. Jungkooks charisma faded into his clouded mind and you led him astray from his defences. He didn’t enjoy this, his shared vulnerability felt unnatural, it wasn’t the way he was taught. His humanity was often correlated with Beastiality by his people and the emotions that flooded his mind felt so distant to him. It wasn’t like he feared his people, he just feared their intentions with those who they didn’t deem worthy of knowing of them.

“Then why do you seem so human-like, is this my perception of you? Am I meant to know of your existence because if that’s not the answer, must I fear for my life” you asked slowly, making sure every word you spoke made it through to him, your tendency for empathetic traits seemed to come into play and by the looks of it? It seemed sickening to him.

The sun was led astray by the clouds and your moment was soon to end, the lake he visited you was by the ocean. Covered in a deep forest with a subtle pathway of dirt to lead you back home.

Jungkook let a giggle escape his mouth towards your idiocy “You don’t need to fear for your life as long as I’m here. My mother presented herself as a human during the time she met my father, a woman with such beauty had grasped his attention. It’s hard to say why I’m like this because she herself wasn’t a human. My father says it’s because the moment they collided was what I was imaged after but these days I don’t believe much from his mouth” a slight husk to his tone deepened at the mention of his father.

“As long as you're here aye? What are you, my protector? My guardian? Jungkook my saviour” you cooed falling helplessly on his hooded chest to lighten up his dampened mood. The information was enough to suffice your curiosity, just enough to vanquish your questions and you didn’t want to risk his sadness for your rambling mind.

Jungkook lifted a ringed finger, resting it on your head in a comforting motion. Surprising you. You sat awkwardly, legs laid upon each other as you laid on his thighs unintentionally “Protector has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” He asked, his childish tone was back once more letting the serious resonance fade into the abyss of his mind once more.

“More like Jungkook the fish, when have you once protected me, it’s always me protecting you. Like that time a kid tried throwing water at you and I pushed you out of the way” You continued, feeling the heat of your cheeks fire in adornment, he never held you this intimately. Only a peck to those plush cheeks of yours and a hug, usually you were doing the hugging...

“You didn’t need to, I’m not a mermaid. A tale isn’t going to spontaneously pop out of my ass, you just made us both look like idiots” He laughed, sending you into hysterics “Let me have my saviour moment dammit, in my mind that was quite heroic of me don’t you think” you tried lifting yourself from his thigh but his grasp was too strong, that not even your head moved from his stoned hands.

“Not at all, heroism can’t even be the definition of what you did. Maybe embarrassment? Or, even better. Dumbass?” you shot up from his hand, defying his strength. Planting your hands to his side so your face was merely away from his face “I am not a dumbass, I did what I thought was right at the time, I should have let the water hit you, very very ungrateful if I may say so myself” you didn’t really notice the proximity at first, to fired in your own mind to notice Jungkook's doe eyes widen at the mere feel of your breath heating his cheeks.

Your ramble continued as he gulped, heated in nervousness. His eyes turning a pale blue, covering his chocolate brown eyes with a slight desire but mostly fear of his actions.

“Ah, y/n” he tried but you continued over him “-remember that time your fingers started doing that sticking together thing like a fin and I took my gloves off, mid-winter to cover yours which by the way. You never gave back, I don’t care because you can keep them but living under the water and all, I feel like I should have given them my final wishes at least”

Jungkook coughed, staring into your eyes, placing a soft hand onto your hips in hopes of it grasping your attention “By the way, were you trying to make a mako mermaid reference and I’m only just getting it now because that would make me feel like a dumbass, which I’m not. I’m not implying that you are either because you're smart but you're also a dick” Your words were switching so fast that he panicked and planted a kiss onto your soft plump lips.

Oh, how warm they felt, your eyes widened in shock. Feeling his soft lips move rhythmically against your own, unable to comprehend his movements as you stared at his thick lashes coating his lids, finally sinking into his tender touch.

Jungkooks fairly large hands are planted on your wide hips, his touch so tender in fear of hurting you. Even his kisses lingered on your lips as he struggled to move from their enchantment.

From that moment onwards you both lingered on the thought of it, treating the other more softly. Graciously, he treated you like a porcelain doll in fear of losing you. He always kept one hand clasped to your own, for what he called his mystical rope.

But moments like that also end in tragedy because even if you found love. Your demise soon followed you to your meeting place, in hopes of seeing him by the dock you awaited. Staring dreamily at the moon above you, your eyes playing with the stars surrounding it and your heart warmed at the tranquillity falling before you, everything seemed to be so full of majesty.

You were so lost in a daze that you didn’t notice the feet pandering behind you, a hooded figure stood before you, lips uncovered but eyes hidden in disguise. This moment wouldn’t have scared you, unmatched to yours and Jungkook's odd adventures, still, the knife they had in their hand glistened under the moonlight and that made your heart race scarcely.

“Y/n?” they asked, voice full of femininity.

You nodded, eyes in search of their own. “Lighten up, I’m not here to hurt you” they laughed, removing their hood painfully slowly, revealing a young woman. Mid-fifties with healthy skin and strands falling down her face with the colour of lightning streaks befalling them, her doe eyes and thin brows reminded you of something but as you gazed into her eyes, you felt the fear vanquish.

“Who are you?” you asked, it seemed as if you’d been doing that often nowadays.

The hooded woman sat beside you, her large, golden streaked blanket resting on her slender shoulders fell like a pool surrounding her due to its thickness. It seemed warm on the inside. “I am no one.” she gave, wisely making you roll your eyes “no one? Everybody's someone” you replied, disliking the ungiving answer she so happily gifted you.

Her slender jaw spread as she released a mocking laugh “Darling, some want to be perceived as someone. I am the embodiment of no one, by now I know your shock is an action of acting. I know of your adventures, I know of your discovery. So take me as I am because I may come back in a different form next time around; the concept of matter is how you mould it, when you are matter, you are anything.”

“You are no one” you repeated in hushed whispers, to which she hummed in reply “-yes, I come as a heathing warning for you my dear” her long black hair swished like magic around her but she was so unfathomed by it, by everything. You couldn’t even feel her energy, her being was untraceable, it was almost like she was a concept of unperception “a warning? First, you stand before me with a knife, then you lecture me on matter and now I’m receiving a warning for something I may not have even don-”

“No, not of what you have done. What you’ve meddled in, as you may know. The prince you're waiting for” she was cut off by you immediately “How did you kn-”

“I’m speaking” she demanded, she flicked her slender fingers in the with fast-paced movements, the advancement made your posture straighten and your mouth shut, ziplocked “I heath a fate made warning; A prince will someday meet his demise, secrecy is leaked and unfathomable death may plague all lands unless the loved are sacrificed. Unlike many, whom may not understand that. I come to you in the form he was conceived in, despite never appearing before him. I have come to you, I have deciphered the riddle for your understanding. Jungkook has always been the son of the cursed. Unless you sacrifice yourself for him”

“I know your love for him is prudent and rooted in for all of eternity so I ask you this? Is your love so strong that you're willing to lay down your life and wait for him in the next? Or are you so obsessed with what he is that your love is a manifestation of your unlived fantasies' ' she spoke with such anger, your breathing elevated as the moon disappeared within the clouds and her eyes turned a bright blue with black surroundings. Her hair floated in the air and she once more reversed her curse she placed on you, watching you fall to the floor, coughing from the unused air within your lungs.

“What’s it to you? Yo-you were never there for him. He grew motherless, your sudden support seems awfully unwilling” you screamed, her power raised the winds and the tides grew with it. “You know nothing of magick my dear, scream all you want but what’s set in stone cannot be changed by faith. I protect him from the shadows and nurture him from afar. He doesn’t need me, he’s a prince, a son of a god. He can handle himself.”

She stood, using her power to light up the sky around you in an array of lighting. Strong her movements were, the tips of her fingers swirled as a barricade of wind surrounded you both, blocking the outside world off, the anger rising around you couldn’t be heard from your standing point and your fear suddenly grew. Was what she said true? Were you merely going to be a sacrifice in fate?

“Do you love my son?” she asked, this time. Her hands placed on your cheeks, warming them and disclosing your fear. You didn’t hesitate, nodding your head almost immediately, causing her saddened doe eyes to close, squeezed shut in thought. Her cries kept from her throat and she apologised “I’m so sorry for this.” She whispered. Suddenly, her hands lit and your mind eradicated into an unfathomable pain, but just as it arrived. It also left and instantaneously you felt trapped.

You watched from within your eyes, as she gifted you her golden knife. Placing her soft forehead against your own, whispering sweet nothings until she backed away and looked atop into the sky before slowly disappearing into the air like ash.

“No, no, no” you repeated watching as you unleash a cut on your skin.

It was a quick, swift moment. The knife pierced at your skin and sliced your innocence, it was damn near painful but your mind was so overrun with memories that the pain you inflicted upon yourself felt no less painful than the crack in your heart. It was a damned ending from the beginning but just like most, happy beginnings end horribly because it’s too good to be near true.

You were mortified by what was to come but just like the pain of birth, the pain of new beginnings and the entrance to humanity. Death could mimic its transition and your boat was rocking. But you didn’t regret any of it, you knew the moment he told you of what was to come that this was your sacrifice, your tears watering the board creaking beneath you as the raging waves swindled the currents beneath you, at this point. It no longer felt like you were endangered by anything, your trapped consciousness merged into one and you walked to the edge of the dock.

Rivers of blood trickled down your arms and you cried from within, just a moment ago you awaited your love’s arrival but now you’ve become his only path of living. It was all unfair.

But just like that, your will vanished and you fell. The drop wasn’t too far but you did, your hair sunken into the water, the tides pulling you further beneath its weight and you felt weightless. It felt serene, the suffocation of your lungs was unkempt but then again, you couldn’t feel anything. Not even the siren screamed before you as Jungkook saw your floating body and silken blood dragging from your arms like leashes. The gash inside of your belly was doing its unholy work.

He had you in his arms, strongly wrapped behind your head and your waist as he stared at you, eyes stricken in fear and pain, shooting from the wanted with you in his arms, landing on any near-surface. Using his arms as a shield from your pain, he couldn’t understand the sudden change in environment but he knew of whom when he saw your floating body.

All he saw was red.

The rain began to fall from the sky, masking his hefty tears from his eyes. He couldn’t see your breathing so he reached a hand above your mouth, whispering incantations as his tips felt the water pile, lifting from your purple lips and a cough escaping your mouth.

“Come on, y/n. You can’t do this to me, not now” He cried sullenly, “please” he pleaded, resting a head on your cheek, the once tender warmth released with thin streaks of breathing and ice-cold skin, his cries mimicked the thunder as he rested his hand against your stomach praying to the ocean for strength, he no longer cared about himself because in a world without you, there wasn’t a world of hope. Of adventure, of love. He couldn’t bear the thought and if you left, he would too.

He screamed a growl like one as his hands lit in blue, heavy harshed breaths escape his mouth and his heart patterned. He didn’t care for the wind prickling at his raised hairs, the lightning striking before him because if he could save you, he couldn’t save himself.

“Please, breath baby. Please.” he sobbed.

The wounds barely healed as he leant an air against your chest, unable to hear your lively heart. Breaking him further “Why, why her out of all people. Why not me, out of all people you took the one person willing to love me” He wailed into the sky, falling against your corpse body. His tears falling against your salty face.

“Just five more minutes would have felt like an eternity more if you gave me the chance.”

He curled up beside you in the rain, ignoring the storm happening around him. His arm wrapped around your flat body as he sunk into your neck with loud sobs. His smile broke from him and the strings to his heart no longer played its serene melodies as he saw you, riddled with death.

It was churning, moments ago you awaited his love. His oddly cold warmth he provided and now you laid in the eye of all rage. Your thoughts are alive once more, but faintly. Just like the faint beat of your heart that caught the attention of your lover. His weakened hands pushed his body up and laid an ear against your heart, the strum of your strings beating once more gifted him something more, life couldn’t leave your body just yet.

His tears stuck to your face and the magic within them, secured into your veins and simultaneously he watched your wounds turn into sigils of protection, scarred into your body. Your breathing returned as Jungkook hovered above you, his fin-like hands placed beside your messy strands as he tucked the swindled roots behind your pierced ears, awaiting for your eyes to open once more.

“Am I just that important” you whispered barely, the movement of your lips made him laugh in joy. His breathing heightened as his chest pumped in and out.

He gripped your cheeks making you hiss in pain “shit, sorry” he muttered, still eccentric in glee. Just like the sea, you wanted to continue living so you fought fate. The comfort of your lovers' hands against your stricken features was extremely comforting and just like that, the heavy rain turned into hushed whisps.

“I promise to never leave your side again, never” he promised as he straddled your head within his strong arms.

“Fine by me” you coughed, voice still weakened by the taste of death.

Jungkook laughed, staring into the sky with hatred. One day he would get his revenge but for now, his focus was solely on you, and only you “I should have known better, I’m so sorry” he apologised frantically, you placed a hand on his naked arm, shocked that all this time he wasn’t clothed “It’s okay, Jungkook. It’s not your fault”

“You're wondering if I’m cold, goddamit y/n. You were dying and you're worried about me”

You shoved his head weakly “leave me alone, it’s hard not to worry about someone you love”

Jungkook pecked your cheek, tiredly “I love you too”

[sukumen]

CONGRATS ON 2.5k!!!!!! so so deserved!! also i don’t think i ever told u this but you were my first ever mutual on here and i just 💞💕💞💕 if it’s still open can i request bakugou + exes to lovers?

HOORAY FOR 2.5K --- AU/TROPE FICLETS: bakugou x exes to lovers.

notes: things we already knew about me: i overwrite. WOW! this got so long, but i had so much freaking fun with it, i can’t even tell you. it’s my first time writing bakugou and i hope i did him justice, especially with this trope that i love. thank you so so much for the support and love victoria - it’s an honor to have been your first mutual!!!! i hope you enjoy this~

summary: it was an odd match from the start, you and katsuki --- at least that’s what you tell him when you walk away after a year and a half. as you leave, you remind yourself of the probability your quirk had read the night of your first date - 73% chance of breaking up. not certain, sure, but high enough to help you through missing him: this was always going to happen. you tell yourself the same thing a year later when he becomes your protection detail at a support item expo that’s received a major threat: being in the same industry, you were always going to cross paths.

but, over the course of your week together, you start to realize that not everything has a rational explanation, a logical way in or out. not Katsuki, and certainly not the way he makes you feel.

quirk details: reader has a quirk that grants insight into the probability of an outcome occurring. ultimately, she can analyze a situation and determine within seconds how likely a specific outcome is if she was to move forward with all variables unchanged. she uses it primarily to design her support items, but can also use it in personal situations too. notably, she used it to work out how likely it was that she and bakugou were going to break up in a misguided attempt to deal with her feelings.

key limitations: scenarios have to be simple for her quirk to work - she can only determine if something will or won’t happen, not what will happen. the information she has will impact the accuracy of her prediction; this means that using it for personal situations - which often rely on the complicated emotions of other people - can be tricky. but, being emotional too, she doesn’t always remember that….

Snippet (2.7k, slight nsfw at the end):

Your flight ends too quickly for your liking, the walk to the arrivals gate even more so. Katsuki is waiting for you under a Starbucks sign as planned with arms folded over his chest while a second hero - a newcomer to the rankings - makes small talk beside him. 

As you move in their direction, time follows in slow motion, each step rigid as you’re reminded of the day you’d walked the other way and out of his life. You’d been strong willed then and hadn’t turned once to see the look in his eyes as you went. But now, you can’t look anywhere but him, not even when the other hero notices you and waves for your attention.

He hasn’t changed much in the year apart. There’s a littering of scars that you’d noticed on the news and are seeing for the first time in person; but otherwise, Katsuki is the same man you’d always known, imposing but in a way that’s nearly comforting after his years in the public eye.

He seems to be watching you right back, but where your gaze is full of scrutiny, his is practically empty. Looking right through you as you draw near, which doesn’t change even when you still in front of them.

“Hi,” you squeak out, giving an awkward half-bow that you hope neither of them read too much into. The person beside Katsuki - hero name Phantom - introduces themselves right back, their bow deeper before they return to their rambling. They’re too caught up to note the way you and Katsuki don’t share names with each other and, with the moment lost, have gone to avoiding each other’s eyes altogether.  

The tension lasts until the other support item maker - a man you recognize from the flight - emerges from baggage claim. The sight of him shifts the tides and you all start to gather your things for the hotel. Katsuki still hasn’t said a word to you, though if the others have noticed, it doesn’t show. You, of course, have and even as you trail behind him and Phantom to make small talk with the other designer, your eyes linger over his broad back.

Somehow, you’d expected more...anger when he saw you next. 

Of course, this calm is pleasant, especially when you’re in public. But, there’s something about it that’s disappointing as well. Leaves you with an emptiness in your gut that you push past with animated conversation with your new companion.

[ … ] 

“Who was she?” Your eyes screw shut before the words even make it out. How embarrassing --- all that talk to yourself about letting it go and you fold not even three steps into your shared suite. It’s none of your business who she is -- it’s none of your business what he does. But, your heart twists every time you think about the two of them in the back of the welcoming party. You’ve never seen him like that - at least not from an outsider’s lens - leaning into another person so closely and the curiosity comes tumbling out of you before you can stop it.

Katsuki is silent for a long while; long enough that you almost think he hadn’t heard you. But, the stiffness in his shoulders tells you aren’t so lucky and after a moment of you watching him untie his shoes, he finally turns to look at you. The glance is brief, but poignant, before his focus returns to himself --- this time, his tie. “I don’t think you’re in any place to be asking me that,” he grunts, tugging at the fabric until it loosens.

Embarrassment sears your throat, a sting you feel behind the eyes as you turn them towards the floor. It’s bad enough that you’d given into the urge to ask, but Katsuki being so straightforward is mortifying. He’s right, of course, but what makes it worse is that he’s not even trying to belittle you with that answer. He means it as simply and plainly as he’s said it: you’re in no position to ask him to tell you something like that.

Self-indulgence from you is rare and you find it’s for this very reason. When you step out of the safety of your logic, your equations, your reasoning, you always manage to trip yourself up. Even now, you want to push, misplaced jealousy gnashing its teeth at the back of your mind. But, his response has sobered you  and you lock it and your curiosity up tight with a stiff apology and a goodnight.

Katsuki doesn’t look up again until your door closes behind you.

[ … ] 

When the chaos has gone, and dust settled, a gang of thirty-something villains is in handcuffs and you’re banged up; ankle throbbing, but very much alive. You haven’t seen Katsuki since he’d stashed you away with the others with a promise to come back, but you’ve heard enough steady explosions to think he must be okay. 

Still, you want proof. When the panic room door opens with a creak, his face isn’t the first you see, but it’s all you’re thinking about. Him, and getting back to him. You want to say it’s the last of your adrenaline, but even you know better. Know adrenaline from longing well, even with your limited experience and you let yourself admit something you’ve hidden for twelve months.

You miss him. 

And even with the lengthy process that usually follows a villain attack, this will likely be the last full day you’ll have with him for the rest of your life.

The realization makes the panic room shrink to a quarter of the size, pain punching air out of your lungs so fast your vision swims. You need to go, you tell yourself, Katsuki’s promise lost in the static of your upset -- you can’t be here right now.

Your ankle smarts when you start putting real pressure on it, but the pain isn’t enough to stop you from pushing to the front of the line to leave.  With each step past someone else, you hear sneers and you think you apologize, but when you’re so cotton-mouthed, you can’t really be sure.

Either way, it doesn’t slow you. The madness makes it easy to peel away from the crowd and though it takes you some time, you don’t stop until you’ve made it outside where you can breathe. For everything that’s happened in the last forty-five minutes, the island’s relatively unaffected, air as cool and breezy as every other night that week. The only real sign of the attack where you are are sirens and voices rising from the other side of the expo center - where you imagine Katsuki to be. 

The thought - that he’s so close - should be comforting, but your despair does good work to keep it bittersweet; to remind you that it won’t be for much longer. It has to be selfish to be so upset when this had all been your choice to begin with; but for the first time since the breakup, you don’t try to explain away what you’re feeling. To dissect and rationalize so you can avoid it altogether. 

For the first time since the breakup, you let it all in.

[ … ]

It takes Katsuki fifteen minutes to find you. Each one finds him more agitated than the last as he works himself up, searching every space by the now empty panic room to figure out where you’d gone. 

At first, he’d assumed the best - that you’d been ushered with the rest of the group to the lobby waiting with police and paramedics. But, a quick skim of the crowd came up empty for your familiar face and panic set in not long after. 

An admittedly tense conversation with the officer that had unsealed the room revealed that one civilian - a woman with a noticeable limp - had broken away from the group just as the doors opened. It’d done well to calm him, knowing someone had seen you after the fighting was over, but he’s hardly settled, if the way he stomps through the floor is anything to go by. “She never fucking listens,” he growls to no one in particular, eyes narrowed in razor sharp focus. 

He’s worked up, above all, by his worry. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t vaguely wounded by the fact you hadn’t let him come back like promised. It draws him back, despite his best efforts, to the day you left --- the day you told him in no uncertain terms that you’d always expected one of you to leave, what with that know-it-all quirk of yours.

He’d felt then as he does now: utterly untrusted. Like he’s behind without even knowing there’s a race --- like he’s lost without any hope to catch up. He doesn’t like it, feeling that way again, and it gets him so unnerved that he starts to revert to old habits. Shoulders bowed, hands stuffed into his pockets, and, notably, taking a foot to every door that could stand between him and wherever the hell you’ve disappeared to. 

When he finds you, finally, behind the fourth, it’s with a kick so firm it turns your sob into a strangled squeak. 

[ ... ] 

“I thought I told you to stay put---” There’s venom in Katsuki’s voice, but a sort you know well. Worried more than enraged, even if his expressive face doesn’t show it. You move to answer, but he steps in before you can, eyes locked eerily on your face. “...Why the hell are you crying?” You reach up for your wet cheeks, cursing internally; you’d hoped to be well through this before you faced him again so the question catches you off guard. Long enough that Katsuki can close the distance and kneel at your feet, pulling your fingers away from your face so he can inspect it. “You gonna say something or what? Did someone hurt you?” 

You can tell he’s biting his tongue, tempering his rage until he’s sure there’s something to rage about. But even that muted anger can be dangerous and you’re quick to shake your head, hands coming up again to wipe your face. “No! No, it’s...just my ankle. From before, when we were running.”

Relief spreads in Katsuki’s face hearing that, like he’s grateful that that’s all it is. But, his frown stays put, deepening some when he reaches down for your ankle and watches your expression sour from the touch. “Hm. Doesn’t seem broken or anything.” He turns thoughtfully towards the building behind him, stilling at the sounds rising from the busy lobby. You try to glean purpose from his face, but have to wait until he speaks up again to work out what he’s doing. “‘S gonna take ages for them to see you right now. I can wrap your ankle up at the hotel and take you in for a check up before tomorrow’s flight.” 

You nod wordlessly, grateful for the chance to avoid anyone else for the night.

[ … ]

The quiet in your suite as Katsuki carries you in is a blessing.

You hadn’t realized how badly overwhelmed you were until you’d been alone on the balcony, so even just a few minutes going through the expo center was too much. Katsuki had picked up on it and hesitated very little in hoisting you up so you could move quickly through the crowd and rubble.

You’d insisted he didn’t need to do it at all, let alone again in the hotel; but just one glance at you down the slope of his nose had silenced you.

The first thing he does when the door shuts behind you is set you down on the couch, warning you to stay still with a look alone. When you’re settled, he disappears into his room before emerging with an impressively stocked first aid kit. And for the second time that night, he’s on his knees for you, taking your swollen ankle in hand to inspect it more closely. 

With so much happening earlier, his touch on the balcony was easy to drown out. Now, there’s nowhere to focus but him and the press from his palm as it cups your bare skin. He runs a thumb over scratches you hadn’t noticed, the way he traces the lines almost pensive, before his attention turns to the kit beside him. 

You, all the while, are stock still, frozen from the heat of his touch. It’s nothing compared to his mouth or the weight of his full body, but after so many months apart, it bowls you over all the same.

You don’t notice you’re crying again until he says something.

“You’re not crying over the ankle,” he says simply, though his touch softens just in case as he brings it into his lap with some bandage wrap.

You don’t know what it is, but something in the way he asks compels your honesty and you nod, feeling pathetic as you sniffle and look down at your hands.

“You gonna tell me what’s really going on then?”

You swallow thickly, words already threatening to bubble up like they had the night of the welcoming party. “I...I don’t think I can.” Or should, rather - you don’t need to use your quirk to know that nothing good could come out of this.

But, Katsuki is firm, shaking his head as he starts to wind the first layer of bandage carefully around your ankle. “Well, I’m sayin’ you can. So, don’t go crying by yourself for some dumb reason like that. If you don’t want to, you don’t want to. But if you do, you can.” 

He says it like it’s simple. Like it’s a given. And beside your better judgment, you lean into that open assuredness. You’d always loved it about him, after all --- the way he so firmly believes that nothing could stop him - or anyone - if he didn’t let it. For some people, it was self-importance, but nights holding him after good and bad days had taught you otherwise -- it was bravery.

Bakugou Katsuki was the bravest man you’d ever known. A blaze that shone so bright on its own that you felt out of place beside him -- like you couldn’t give him what he needed --  and decided for you both that that meant you didn’t have a chance. 

But, in the quiet of your suite, with Katsuki sitting comfortably at your feet, you decide that maybe he’s rubbed off on you some. That maybe, in your time alone, you’ve become a lot braver than you realized.

So, you suck in a deep breath, look him square in the eye, and tell him the truth.

“I miss you, Katsuki.”

[ … ]

He holds your hands to the mattress so tight they hurt, but the ache is welcome. You know him well, even now, and can read between the lines of your intertwined fingers. 

He’d missed you too.

All these days of looking through you, past you had been intentional to protect himself, but here, now, he’s completely laid bare. Mouth kiss swollen and eyes lined with tears he’ll wave off later, Katsuki is spilling out every ounce of love he’d held back the day you told him you’d always planned to leave.

You meet him halfway with an arch off the bed to chase his kisses and tell him that you love him --- and you’re sorry --- between each one.

The weight of his body is as precious as you remember and the heat of your tangled limbs lulls you into a daze that pulls your eyes shut.

Katsuki doesn’t notice at first as he’s dragging his mouth over your bare neck, but when he does, he’s quickly displeased. “Look at me,” he hisses, fingers tightening between yours. Your eyes open heavily and it takes you a moment to find his gaze in the darkness. But, once you’re back, he presses his forehead to yours and slowly, carefully presses forward until his cock’s stretched you to the hilt.

The fill feels like coming home. 

[diary-of-an-onliner]

lifelines [g.w.]

hi! first fic, pls be nice!

word count: 2300

warnings: none

After Gryffindor turned the tides at the last second, winning the second most important game of the season after a massive setback in the first hour, the celebrations raged harder than ever. Since Hufflepuff had beaten Slytherin to the ground two days ago, the path towards the Cup was clear. Angelina was sitting on the couch, having passed the point of looking pleased long ago, and now seemed almost frazzled by the result. People came up to her periodically, clapping her shoulder or topping off her drink, directing the buzzing energy of the common room straight into her.

Truly, the atmosphere was phenomenal, the stolen food and drinks from the kitchens juicer and a little more spiked than usual. Or maybe it was the sunlight still streaming through the windows as strongly as ever despite the past gloomy week. Whatever it was that made the day so electrically happy for everyone, it showed no signs of stopping.

This type of unrestrained feeling you always imagined started from the back of your head as s little star-like scribble that cast a net over you and spread the intensity throughout. This week it was stronger than it has been in a while.

You felt electric in the stands as you yelled for your team, an invisible line ripping the words from your throat before you even knew you were saying them. You felt elated as your housemates put their hands around you in delight, screaming themselves sore when they announced the winner. And you were feeling the happiness in your hair now, in every single strand from root to end as it swayed along with the bottle in your hand.

This was happy. This was joyful. This was utterly buttery in your chest and electric in the air.

You idly looked around the red and orange common room, which burned with excitement, deciding how to best spend this time before it runs out on Umbridge's watch and she ruins it.

No. No wasting thoughts on her today. She sucked enough life out of you and your housemates this year, she won't be doing it off the clock too.

Your eyes settled on possibly one of the strongest sources of this warmth - George Weasley, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his brother. The window behind him silhouetted him in gold perfectly, like the sun offered him to you. It accented how attractive he was, even if he burned a little at the top.

You've connected eyes before, talked before, even bantered. One wittier than the other every odd day, you toed the line between acquaintances and friends perfectly. Seeing as he's very popular, catching him in-between conversations was a matter of luck.

You imagined a line going from the center of your chest to his as you approached him. He pensively looked to the side, observing some goings-on on the far end of the room as you interrupted him.

"That was a good game. You got some very nice shots in," you said.

He turned to you with a mild close-mouthed 'hm', a look, and then a grin.

"You sure it was me?" he cocked his eyebrow and look at Fred on the couch next to Angelina, bumping knees with her and accepting congratulations in both of their names.

"You wear different numbers, genius. I know how to count this time."

"And you have my number memorized," he said, his voice glad.

"That would've been a great line if you were a Muggle."

"Pity, I already chose a magical career." he took a sip of his butterbeer and eyed you up, "Maybe I should start using my magical lines on you. Would those work better?" his eyes widened and his tone turned innocent at the end.

"I think I know too much anti-jinxes for that."

He pursed his lips in amusement. "Alright. What would work on you then?"

"Oh, I find responsibility and appropriacy really hot." you shot back, twirling a piece of your happy, charged up hair.

"Contradiction too," he said, "since you're still here."

"I find contradiction a natural state of the human soul, thus if I wasn't contradicting myself, I wouldn't fully be here."

"Hm. Brainy." he chuckled.

"Judgy. If you need me to simplify you can just say so."

"I think I can handle your smart mouth just fine."

"Then why am I winning?"

"I didn't realize this was a competition."

"Rookie mistake." you shook your head dramatically.

"I'm pretty sure it's a rookier mistake to assume you're winning. Who's the judge?"

"My innate inner sense of whether I'm winning or not."

"If it's inside you, then how would one file a complaint concerning an unfair ruling?"

"They wouldn't. It's a noble and just system that decided I'm in the lead. You just need to accept the truth."

"Don't make me come in there," he said, smirking good-naturedly.

"In where?" you shot back.

"In you." his smirk held on for a second before he seemed to realize what he said and his face scrunched up in apologetic laughter.

Your mind slipped into the gutter the way new yorkers fall into sinkholes filled with rats - hilariously fast.

Albeit greatly amused, he started to correct himself, "I didn't mean-"

"No, of course not." you licked your lips, "I understood you the first time " Was karma going to bite you in the ass for that lie? Who knows, but you might even be into that. Everything seems possible when the sun is shining. So he shone.

He grinned with his happy mouth and you once again noted how the light from the window behind him silhouetted him in the golden lining that made him look like a cutout glued onto the scene of this funny collage. His hair was aflame and his face was darker from the shadows but just as loudly burning with laughter.

This was happy.

You drew the word in your mind, line by line. H, a smooth move from the bottom, a decorative loop, then a parallel stroke, and a transversal. A, a circle with a tail, sharp move upward, and an even sharper drop for the backbone of p. P's tummy? Bulge? Nope, your mind shouldn't slip there in the middle of Binns’ class, no matter how boring he was. Another p, as George's knee bumped into yours. He was moved from "Mr. Wester, Phillip." for being disruptive, so he engaged in an under-the-table kind of disruption with his new tablemate.

You smiled. A long diagonal line, and another shorter one that cut into it. Y.

Happy.

You were, truly, right now. It sounded upside down to be happy though, both overall and when stuck in a soul-suckingly draining class, but you were.

George read over your shoulder, then audaciously engaged in over-the-table elbow-bumping-disruption and a cocked eyebrow. You straightened up, feeling a warm line unfold from the back of your head to the core of your brain, through the center of your chest, and straight to your stomach. Your happy line.

I'm happy, you mouthed.

Really? He mouthed back sarcastically yet good-naturedly. I can definitely see why. His eyes darted toward the professor. I say go for it, he's a catch. You might even be his type.

You burst out laughing, then immediately bit your lip. A few students, including Philip, looked at you as you shook with laughter, but professor Binns carried on.

George, on the other hand, shrugged with his shit-eating grin, pretending he has no idea why you were laughing, thus letting everyone know why you were laughing.

You scribbled, I don't know. What if it goes badly. I'd hate to be ghosted.

George raised his eyebrows at the Muggle slang you explained before. His hand slipped next to yours on the table and you felt your happy line thrum in approval. His hand was warm as he gently pressed it to yours, slowly took your quill, and scribbled back: Need someone more physical, huh? And I thought you were the romantic type.

Strong words for someone who never bought me dinner, you replied.

Mhm, as soon as I find a good line get you to agree to it.

Keep writing like that and I'll start thinking you fancy me.

Keep your mind in the gutter and I'll start thinking you don't fancy me back. He accented that line with a wink and an overdramatic lip bite.

You pouted sarcastically at him. Of course not, I only want you for your knobby knees.

He chuckled, reminded of the short line of warmth that connected your knees under the table. He pressed his into yours a little stronger, then pulled away.

That's a funny way of flirting. I'd know, I'm an expert at funny.

Self-proclaimed.

Untrue.

And I'm not flirting. If I was, you'd know it.

Would you? your breath hitched. For reasons you very well knew but refused to sound out to yourself, this short sentence drove the air around you two from joking to serious at breakneck speed.

Know if you were flirting with me? your happy line felt jumbled up in your stomach. He smiled at you.

Would you know if you were flirting with me?

The following week was arduous.

Gryffindors had a record amount of detentions, and Snape tore into them any and every chance he could. Even McGonagall was one edge, meaning lousy or missed homework was a death sentence. You forgot how to read from tiredness, submitting essays patchworked of other people's thoughts without ever having any information pass through your head. Everything was dull, gray, and dragged out.

Despite that, outside the castle the sky was blue and sunlight streamed through the soft clouds and a sweet breeze would blow around aimlessly. It was both comforting and a little mocking. The sky should be as exhausted and as beaten down as you. Good to know stress made you compare yourself to a literal sky. But maybe that's a little cruel. Nevertheless, it sounded like nature itself was turning its nose up at you, saying you're selfish for wanting grey skies, she doesn't care, she's above puny human affairs. The world turns and you have to turn with it or stop, then spend the rest of the time catching up.

You haven't stopped yet, but by all that is holy, you wanted to sleep. As the sun finally descended on a Friday after dinner, you finished your essays in hope that the next week might be kinder if you do everything quickly. The common room was dark, most of the light coming from the fire in the fireplace. It was also oddly empty for nine-thirty in the evening. Apparently, everyone had the same week as you.

Your almost finished essay laid on the table as you dozed, swinging your legs back and forth over the edge of your armchair.

The creak of the portrait opening caught your attention, and George Weasley walked in a second later, rubbing his sore hand and cussing.

Truly everyone had a shitty week.

"Love?" you said teasingly.

He looked up at you with a tired grin.

"It's late."

"Not really. You okay?"

"Nothing I can't handle, love." he sighed, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.

"Can I see?" you crossed the room to stand in front of him. Again, the firelight licked at the lines of his face, clear and sharp. He had circles under his eyes and a heavily nibbled lip.

"It's nothing." still, George raised his hand. "Love." he added, distantly. He seemed to be staring right above your head. You looked at the middle line of his lips again. You imagined him biting it.

Was it him that bit it? That one hurt. You hoped it was him.

You took his hand in your and rubbed circles into his knuckles. His eye winced.

"I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault."

"What happened?" he closed his eyes.

"Two ickle firsties almost brought the wrath of Umbridge into themselves with some dungbombs. You know how it goes," he said, a corner of his lip tugging upwards. Your chest expanded looking at him being satisfied with himself. As he should be.

"How... responsible of you," you said.

His eyes snapped downwards to yours.

"Keep looking at me like that and I might also start being appropriate too, darling."

You stepped closer, your happy line thrumming against your chest like a quivering violin string.

"What if being responsible is enough?"

"Enough for what?" he breathed out before you pressed yourself against him.

At first, that's was it was - a press of two warm lips. Then he started to move slowly, almost gentlemanly. How appropriate.

As he touched you, you felt the daze of last week lift. The little star scribble on the back of your head lit up, pulsing with brightness rather than fogging your thought. This was clear, you felt his every stroke that made up his face and chest and hands. The scribble of happiness extended itself into a web, overtaking your brain - you could feel it and you wondered if he saw it too when he looked at you. You pulled away and lifted your head to check. Probably not, but his eyes were glassy and he gave you a dopey smile. He was glad you were there. You pressed your lips against his again. You were glad he was there too.

The web continued down your neck, arms and chest, into your legs until your toes buzzed with light coursing through you. You were more awake than you have been in a long time.

Your hands were the brightest of all, and as you touched his hands, connecting them fingertip to fingertip, things made sense. The web buzzed and his breath was warm against yours, hands pulsing with energy as your every lifeline connected into his.

[wifeylouis]

Louis Tomlinson writes queer love songs about the queer experience.

Louis is a prolific songwriter who has penned most of the iconic One Direction songs and has written on every single one of the songs from his debut album Walls. LGBT+ fans have always resonanted with Louis’ song writing and most of us have picked up on the very obvious queer coding. Many people seem to dismiss Louis’ outcries about his sexuality through his songs and I’m here to bring back the attention to all the gay anthems Louis has given us! 

Before someone brings up the fact that Liam Payne has written on these songs too, in his own words, he focused more on melodies and Louis on the actual lyrics!

In One Direction:

1. Strong

I'm sorry if I say, "I need you" But I don't care, I'm not scared of love 'Cause when I'm not with you I'm weaker Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong That you make me strong?

Here Louis talks about not being scared of loving his partner and asks them if it's so wrong for them to be in love and to need each other. A very common thing gay people are told is that it’s wrong for us to love our significant other. Louis is trying to make his lover realise that it’s okay for them to do so, and that there's nothing to be afraid of.

Think of how much Love that's been wasted

People always Trying to escape it Move on to stop their heart breaking But there's nothing I'm running from You make me strong

Many older gay people have remained in the closet all their lives and have tried to “escape” from their truths and from who they really are, because they have been (and still are) afraid of rejection or the heartbreak they might face if they were out. 

Specially back when things were even worse for the community, gay people would remain in straight marriages and even have children - take the example of Philip Schofield, the british presenter who only came out as gay this year after 27 years of marriage. 

Louis, on the other hand, says that he isn’t ashamed of who he is and he isn’t running away from his true self. He knows who he loves and is proud of himself. 

2. Alive

My mother told me I should go and get some therapy I asked the doctor, "can you find out what is wrong with me?

Here louis refers to how families and society often tell us that being gay is something that needs to be fixed. The “doctor” could be a reference to conversion therapy that many gay people in homophobic religious families are forced to go through. If you grow up around that mindset, you might really wonder if something is wrong with you. 

She said, "hey, it's alright Does it make you feel alive? Don't look back Live your life Even if it's only for tonight" She said, "hey, it's alright If it makes you feel alive"

So the doctor tells him that it’s okay to be himself and to live his truth, love who he loves, because all that matters is doing what truly makes him “feel alive” which is being himself. 

I whispered something in her ear that I just can't repeat She said, "okay" but she was worried what her friends will think She's going crazy Can't contain it She asked me, "what should I do, oh?"

Those of us who have been in a closet have at some point worried about our friends finding out, I know that I have been careful of being with another girl if there was a chance my friends would find out about it. We all know the theory that if you replace the girl in Alive with a man, the song changes its  meaning. It clearly becomes a song about a guy hooking up with another man at the same party, and him worrying about what his friends would think about him being with another guy. Louis is telling him what the doctor told him: that it’ll be alright, and that he needs to do what makes him feel alive! To be who he is and to live his truth freely. I love this theory for the song because it makes so much sense!

3. Through the dark 

You tell me that you're sad and lost your way You tell me that your tears are here to stay But I know you're only hiding And I just wanna see you

Here he's probably referring to a lover or a friend who was maybe afraid to accept themselves. This song reminds of Taylor Swift’s "Seven" where she sings about a friend who will no longer have to be in the closet if they leave their homophobic home and come live with her. Louis is telling a friend, who has lost their way trying to find themselves, that their true self is still there, hiding under that blanket of shame and self hatred. 

You tell me that you're hurt and you're in pain And I can see your head is held in shame, But I just wanna see you smile again See you smile again

The theme of “hiding” and “shame” are obvious references to internalised homophobia and Louis is telling his friend or lover that he wants to see them happy, wants them to accept who they are. Throughout the song he reminds them that he will always be there for them and that he will support them and love them regardless of what society might say. He just wants them to be happy and to be themselves. 

4. Ready to run

There's a moment when you finally realize There's no way you can change the rolling tide

All of us have had that moment when we realised we were queer, for some of us it happened at a young age and for some of us later on in life. But that moment of realisation and coming to terms with our sexuality is a shared experience for the entire community. Louis talks about that moment, about realising who he is and not wanting to change it because the truth is there and he’s accepted it. 

There will always be the kind that criticize But I know, yes I know we'll be alright

As LGBT+, we face a lot of criticism from society and Louis talks about how he doesn't care about who stands against him and his lover, he knows they’ll be alright because he believes in their love. 

 5. End of the day

All I know at the end of the day is you want what you want and you say what you say And you'll follow your heart even though it'll break Sometimes All I know at the end of the day is love who you love There ain't no other way If there's something I've learnt from a million mistakes You're the one that I want at the end of the day

A wlw anthem! Louis really does love his sapphics and this song was easily claimed by his wlw fans. He again talks about staying true to himself and living his truth even if he might face rejection and heartbreak, he can’t change who he is. A common phrase associated with the LGBT+ community is “Love is Love”. Louis speaks on the same theme and says that nothing can change him because he knows who he loves and there’s nothing wrong with who he loves and wants. He talks about how he's not afraid of being in love with this person and he's ready to say what he wants about his lover, because he's not ashamed of his feelings in any way or form. And he’ll follow his heart even though he might be rejected. 

The priest thinks it's the devil My mum thinks it's the flu But girl it's only you

He refers to the “priest” and “mom” like he did with the “doctor” and “mother” in Alive. Religion tells us that being gay is something wrong and evil, our family tells us that it’s just a phase that we will get over, and Louis talks about these elements in many of his songs. But he knows that there’s nothing wrong with his feelings, it isn’t a phase or a trend for him, he loves who he loves and there’s no other way. 

7. Home

Make a little conversation So long I've been waiting So let go of myself and feel alive

Here Louis refers to the feeling of being “alive” once again. Being who he really is makes him feel like he’s truly living. He’s finally “letting go” of himself, as in coming to terms with who he is. 

So many nights I thought it over Told myself I kind of liked her But there was something missing in her eyes

Louis leaked Home even though it wasn’t a single and even tweeted a little Home emoji for it! This song was quickly claimed by LGBT+ fans as exclusively for us and we even started Project Home for it. Here he talks about how he tried to make himself believe he liked this girl, but at the end of the day he knew it wasn't right and there was something missing. Most of us have tried to make ourselves believe that maybe we’re just confused, and many of us have suffered through comp-het, or giving heterosexuality one last chance before realising that something’s wrong and this isn’t for us. 

I was stumbling, looking in the dark  With an empty heart But you say you feel the same Could we ever be enough? Baby we could be enough

There was a point in time where he was confused, figuring out where he fell on the spectrum, he was “stumbling” through this journey of self acceptance and he found his lover along the way. Someone who told him that they felt the same way he did. This is again a common shared experience in the LGBT+ community, finding comfort in realising that there’s other members of the community around us who are like us, we are not alone in this struggle. Finding that person who felt the same way he did, was enough for him.

I see the smile as it starts to creep in It was there, I saw it in your eyes

Referencing the missing something in the girl’s eyes from before, Louis says that he’s found it in his lover’s eyes. They’re happy, they know who they are, they’ve accepted themselves. I also made a connection here with a lyric from Louis’ song Walls where he sings “Looked you in the eyes, saw that I was lost” perhaps implying he could no longer find that “something” in his lover’s eyes, he no longer feels the same way. Louis’ songs have many easter eggs and little references to eachother, it’s amazing how he’s writing a story through his songs and no matter which album or era you pick a song from, they all link with eachother and can be written down like a cohesive story. He’s a really brilliant, smart songwriter. 

In his debut album Walls:

Something to note here, Louis hasn’t used a single pronoun in the entirety of Walls. Unlike the unnecessary “girl” in awkward places that were forced into One Direction songs, Louis’ debut album is a beauty, gender neutral piece that is relatable to everyone, regardless of who are partner is. 

7. Too Young

Oh, I can't believe I gave in to the pressure When they said a love like this would never last

Being LGBT+ as a regular person is hard enough, but being a gay man in the homophobic music industry is near to impossible. Louis talks about the pressure and hardships he and his lover may have faced under their label and management, considering how restrictive, abusive and controlling Sony Music is, it isn’t far-fetched to think that Louis is referring to the pressure his relationship may be under because of contracts and agreements. The industry is homophobic, the artist is a product and the listeners are the consumers, and gay men in pop music aren’t exactly seen as marketable by the executives. A “love like this” is obviously referring to queer love, and being told that it’s phase that will pass, or that it won’t last because they won’t let it last.

8. Habit

I took some time 'cause I've ran out of energy Of playing someone I heard I'm supposed to be But honestly, I don't have to choose anymore

Louis talks about being tired of playing a character, hiding his true self and being someone he isn’t because thats what hes told to do. Again, this could be a reference to that “pressure” he felt in Too Young, and also an obvious reference to a closet. All of us who have been closeted before or are in the closet right now, know that our day to day public lives feel like playing a character, acting like the person society expects us to be. Straight men don’t experience this, they don’t have to play someone else because they are exactly what society expects of them already. Louis is tired of that, and doesn’t want to choose between that pressure of the hiding and being his true self. 

 9. Only the brave

It's a church of burnt romances And I'm too far gone to pray

Only the Brave is the last song on Louis’ debut album, and was quickly claimed by his LGBT+ fans as a second sister to home, another gay anthem. In the track by track, he says “Love is only for the brave”. Bravery and pride are two words commonly associated with the LGBT+ community, pride is an integral part of us and we are extremely brave for being ourselves and loving who we love in a society that tells us that we are wrong for doing so. Here, Louis again brings up religion and his relationship with it. This is a recurring theme in his songs. The “burnt romances” are obviously queer romances that the “church” or all religion has killed, by telling us we are wrong or evil for being who we are. Alot of gay people have a bad relationship with religion, mostly because we are so demonised by it. “Too far gone to pray” definitely refers to how gay people are told that if they pray or if they hadn’t strayed from religion they might be able to “cure” themselves. In this case he says that he can't do that anymore, because he KNOWS who he is and doesn't need religion to tell him. He’s too far gone to turn around and try to “fix” himself, instead he doesn't need that fixing at all. 

And they'll say, "I told you so Come on, when you know, you know"

Something most of us have heard when we come out of the closet, is people saying “they knew all along” and this is a reference to that. It can also be interpreted as knowing who we are when the time comes. Most of us have had our gay awakening at some point in life, when that moment comes, we realise who we were all along. Louis himself has been outed multiple times in his career, once even by The Wanted, he might be referring to how people will say that they had known all along when they find out the truth about him. 

Additional: 

10. Just Like You 

“Twenty-five and it's all planned”

Louis announced Just Like You as a song for the fans against his label’s wishes on 11th October 2017, also known as National Coming Out Day. His LGBT+ fans knew it was another outcry from him about his sexuality, reaching out to his community through his music. Here he talks about how his entire career has been planned, perhaps referring to Too Young and Habit, playing this character because he’s been forced into it, because that’s what's written down for him by the management and labels. His fans have always picked up on certain mannerisms and things he does and says that look forced, and are probably a result of controlled media training of his body language and words. 

Yeah, I feel the same as you would do Same stress, same shit to go through I'm just like you If you only knew

The “you” here is the LGBT+ community. Time and time again Louis has been alienated from his own people, and through his music he reaches out to us and tells us that he’s the same, he goes through the same troubles and hardships and faces the same societal pressure that we face when it comes to being who we are and loving who we love. 

I wanna lay where she lays

This is the one of the only pronouns Louis has ever used in his solo music but his fans quickly picked up on the real meaning behind it. “She” lays next to a man, and Louis might be referring to how gay men are told that men should not lie with men, and he says that if he had it his way, he could be lying where “she” is, as in next to the man, his lover. 

Louis also released a beautiful lyric video for Just Like You where he added newspaper articles about various topics ranging from Black Lives Matter, racial inequality, police brutality, feminism, sexual assault and the LGBT+. There are many easter eggs and hints to pick up on in the video including a clipping of a crossed out “What is your sex” column and using a separate clipping of the letter “S” over the word “He” to form “She”, a reference to gender neutral pronouns or the “He” that he wants to lay next to. 

 There are many themes that are recurring in Louis’ music, specifically religion, societal pressure, having to hide and be someone society expects him to be, being told that there’s something wrong that needs to be “cured”. All of these are a common part of the queer experience, something all of us have been through and shared with eachother. That’s why Louis’ music resonantes with gay fans, because the words he writes and sings tell a story that all of us have lived, and a straight man could’nt do that. LGBT+ artists queer code through many ways, clothing, mannerisms, art, Louis does it through songwriting. He may be in a tightly controlled, restrictive situation but he has a positive outlook on life, he is proud of who he is, he constantly reaches out to fans and his community through the only way he can, his songwriting. He’s given us many gay anthems  and has helped many fans, myself included, come to terms with our sexuality and accept ourselves because his music told us that it’s okay to do so. I’m grateful to Louis for giving me that acceptance and love that all of us seek through his beautiful songs. It’s time we stop invalidating Louis’ struggles and the amount of times he has reached out to his community and tried to show us his true self. 

Can’t wait for our next big gay anthem in LT2!

[jolinarjackson]

Hey! Do you have any irondad fic recs? I just started reading Peter and Tony fics again and I would love any recs you have!

Hello!

Yes, I do! :D It's by no means complete because I am still busy compiling, but I have quite a few already.

For all the below stories, please heed the tags and warnings on AO3. And of course, feel also free to check out my stories. :)

My AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolinarJackson/works

The below fics are not compiled in any particular order.

If I Die Young by MusicalLuna

Summary: Tony and Steve are trying to keep their little boy (who's not so little anymore) out of the superhero business for as long as possible, but when a kid's as stubborn as Peter is, they can't always stop him.

And sometimes things go wrong. Really, really wrong.

Categories: Superfamily, Not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: This is a wonderful whump story that I go back to again and again.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423790

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Lightning in a Bottle by Gruoch

Summary: Peter takes the tablet and looks down at the screen, where a picture of Spider-Man intimately entangled in a passionate embrace with Johnny Storm is displayed across the majority of the Daily Bugle’s home page. TORCH CAUGHT IN SPIDER-MAN’S WEB, the headline reads, bracketed by spider and flame emojis. Peter looks back up at Tony, who is still staring at him completely stone-faced.

Tony reaches across the island and taps the screen. “So. What do you have to say about that?”

“Well. For one, I’m a little disappointed with the headline,” Peter offers.

Tony lets his chin drop against his chest, momentarily defeated, before taking a deep breath and once more skewering Peter with a hard look. “You could have at least given me some warning that the two of you are...I mean, I had my suspicions, but—”

“You’re misconstruing the situation. Spider-Man and the Torch are dating,” Peter explains. “Johnny and I are just friends.”

“Boy, you’re really leaning hard into this whole alter ego thing, aren’t you?” Tony deadpans. “How’s that working out for you?”

Categories: Irondad, SpideyTorch

Comment: I love stories taking advantage of the havoc that secret superhero identities can wreak on romantic relationships. The best about this particular story is the witty writing, which makes Peter being a chaotic mess in this even better.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413219

-----

The doubts that complicate by @frostysunflowers

Summary: "But he’s smart!" May had blurted, looking up at the teacher with misplaced anger. "I don’t...how does this make sense?"

She was worried, unaware, unprepared, not like Peter who had known for a while that some things were trickier for him than other kids. All the rules hidden in cheerful little rhymes and singing songs about which letters get along and those who don’t play nice; all the robotic reciting of the alphabet nearly every day: none of it had ever truly helped Peter understand how it all worked.

A brand new door opened in his life that day. On the front of it, the word ‘DYSLEXIC’ was printed in bold, the certainty of what it meant holding the letters permanently in place.

or

Nobody ever said being smart was easy.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This is a wonderful read. @frostysunflowers manages to describe dyslexia in a way that makes the struggle understandable. The relationship between Tony and Peter is heart-warming. This is a great read if you're in the mood for something that is not too long and still want a good dosage of H/C.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989531

-----

Accepting the Tides by Emma_Anacortes

Summary: Tony had dragged Peter from the depths of despair after May's death. It was normal that he'd grown to care a little about him, right?

Yeah, okay. He freaking loved the kid.

So naturally he would feel a little weird when Richard Parker randomly shows up in Peter's life. Naturally he'd feel protective, nervous, and confused because where has Richard been all this time? And why does Tony feel sick every time he sees him around Peter?

All he knows is if Richard hurts his kid, Tony's gonna give him hell.

Categories: Irondad, Steve & Peter

Comment: This story is intense, no doubt about it. Please heed all the warnings and tags carefully. However, if you give it a try, it's so worth it. This story presents a different backstory to the relationship of Peter and his parents (especially his father) while exploring Peter and Tony forging a father/son-bond in the wake of May's death. I have to say that the the relationship between Peter and Steve in this story is just as prominent and amazingly written. I loved every second of it.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885844/chapters/26843274

-----

with arms wide open by @parkrstark

Summary: Tony and Pepper are expecting a baby and Peter may be the one most excited...just maybe…

Categories: Irondad, Pepperony

Comment: This is undeniably cute and heart-warming: Tony and Pepper get pregnant and Peter is right there with them, freaking out. Peter spends this story preparing to become a big brother while still being unsure about whether this is the role he is going to fulfill in the baby's life. This stoy focsses on the found family that is Tony, Pepper and Peter, but there are wonderful interactions with May, Rhodey and Happy as well.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540409

-----

the stars the moon they have all been blown out (you left me in the dark) by @madasthesea

Summary: It starts off with his vision fading in and out.

What kind of demon drug can make someone go blind by inhaling a single lungful? Whatever it is, Tony doubts it’s reversible. And while Peter’s no idiot, he can be idiotically optimistic. He's determined to fix what appears to be unfixable.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This story is experienced entirely from Tony's point of view, which make the effects of the drug and his reaction to it all the more poignant. Tony's relationship to Peter is especially highlighted in this story. You can only imagine the worry and pain Peter geos through unil the very end of the story and the pay-off is worth it. I want to highlight the way that Tony's experiecne of the effects of the drug are described here, because I thought that was superb writing and put the reader righ in Tony's shoes.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15795141/chapters/36757500

-----

turn back the clock (and I'll try again in the morning) by @madasthesea

Summary: Peter gets stuck in a time loop. In it, he lives through some of his worst nightmares, only to wake up that morning and have no one remember. He needs Tony to help him get through.

And if that isn't bad enough, his identity is revealed over and over, every day.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This story is just SO GOOD. Not only is Peter experiencing the same day over and over again and his identity is revealed, but the way it happens also gets more and more taxing and gruesome. This story has emotional highpoints that are written fantastically and the Irondad in this is just heart-warming.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023177/chapters/42585071

-----

How The Mighty Fall by Meep_Morp

Summary: Since his duel against Toomes on Coney Island, Peter's life has settled down considerably. May knows about his double life and accepts it (mostly). Tony has welcomed him back, and given him more independence as New York's Spider-Man.

One night during patrol he crosses paths with Connor, a teenager who has Extremis in his blood and answers to the wrong kind of people. Though Tony is quick to distrust him, Peter finds himself reluctant to follow his mentor's lead, and a bond develops between the two boys. Their relationship is further complicated when Connor's former master, Negative, makes it a personal mission to destroy them both in his quest for power.

Taking down a superpowered psychopath? Tough, but Peter isn't going to back down.

Stopping Tony from blasting his first potential boyfriend into space? He might need a miracle for that.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This story is so intricately plotted and just a joy to read. The characters are written to perfection and this includes an absolutely fantastic and fleshed-out OC who, as a reader, you come to care about easily and quickly. Much more subtle is the relationship between Peter and Tony in this fic but every single scene is on-point. I have read and re-read this story several times and it is hard to put aside once you start.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084407/chapters/42745826

-----

Project Pride by TheSleepingOwl

Summary: In hindsight, it should have been obvious. The signs were all there, unwittingly scattered by Peter like breadcrumbs for Tony to follow—the way he would fall into uncomfortable silence when the topic of dating came up, or become flustered whenever Tony teased him about the mysterious Michelle-Call-Me-MJ character Peter was constantly gushing about, or deflect Tony’s mostly-joking inquiries into whether or not they needed to be having The Talk with a hurricane of splutters and blushes.

And even without the signs, Peter was still his kid. Tony was just supposed to know these things.

So when FRIDAY pulled up Peter’s search history—‘how can i make myself not like boys,’ ‘can you force yourself to be attracted to girls,’ ‘how to stop your friends from knowing youre gay,’ and, most devastating, ‘how can i keep my parents from finding out im gay’—Tony wasn’t surprised so much as deeply, unquantifiably ashamed. Because he should have known.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This story is an incredibly written POV of Tony coming to terms with Peter's sexuality. It's achingly realistic in the way Tony struggles to connect to Peter, knowing that he's gay. Additionally, this story has a hefty doese of Hurt/Comfort thrown in that hurts when reading it. This is a gem.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135138/chapters/52834021

-----

Birds Eating Other Birds by aloneintherain

Summary: Peter wishes he hadn’t gotten out of bed that morning. Then, maybe, he wouldn’t be reduced to this - limp-crawling through the rabbit burrows that is Oscorp Tower, a monster of a man on his heels, bloody and bruised and choking on a panic attack.

Categories: Irondad, not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: I love aloneintherain's stories. I read them when I first got into Avengers fanfic and the way they write dynamics is great. This one is intense and the way it's written sucks you right into it. Norman Osborn is so evil and creepy in this one. Part one is mainly hurt, but stick around for the comfort in part 2!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7626433

----- And here are some Avengers team dynamic fics as well -----

It Was Probably The Pudding by Serendipity_Cometh

Summary: Given that over the course of the past eleven months Peter Parker hasn't contracted so much as a head-cold, the teenager thought it safe to assume that the whole 'irradiated spider bite' gig had equipped him with an immune system of steel that rivalled Captain America's.

So when he wakes up one night in the midst of the worst asthma attack he's suffered in almost eight years, neither he nor the rest of the team can think of a logical explanation.

And everything sort of goes downhill from there.

Categories: Team, Stony, Clint/Phil, not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: When I started out reading Avengers fanfictions, I stumbled across this one and go back to it on a regular basis. Lots of whump and great team dynamics.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953538/chapters/1865305

-----

In the Home by aloneintherain

Summary: The Avengers have been infected, turned violent and aggressive against their will. And Peter, the only one unaffected, is trapped inside the Tower with six feral teammates.

“Natasha,” Peter says cautiously, “what happened here? Steve attacked me, and if there was ever a sign that something was wrong, it’s having the embodiment of Truth, Justice, and the American Way throw you across the room -”

Natasha comes closer, her stride controlled. Nothing necessarily out of the ordinary, but there’s something in her face, in her eyes -

Natasha lunges across the space, and slams into Peter, hard.

Categories: Team, not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: One of my very early reads when I started out in the Avengers fandom. Excellent whump, hurt/comfort and team dynamics.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388563/chapters/12446069

-----

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by aloneintherain

Summary: Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

“Spidey, they’ve got reinforcements. We’ve hit a bit of a snag here, and I don’t think anyone will be able to help you for a while. Think you can sit tight while we deal with this?”

The pressure on his lower back and legs was becoming too much. Peter swallowed thickly, fighting down panic. He could handle this.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I can do that.”

Categories: Team, not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: There are so many "Peter trapped under a building"-stories out there but this is the one I read first and it stuck with me. Loved the team dynamic in this.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232937

[itsbatman-butpoor-andmurderous]

when vacationing in florida:

tips from a born and raised floridian

wear (reef safe) sunscreen

this is a given y’all. if you’re out in the sun for longer than 10-15 minutes you need to have sunscreen on and re-apply every hour. let it soak in for about 30 minutes before you go into water. if you don’t you will get a nasty sunburn, and skin cancer isn’t fun either but it takes a lot of sunburns to get to that point. however, you can get sun poisoning from one really bad sunburn. sun poisoning, or photodermatitis, is a form of allergic contact dermatitis which is your skin having an allergic reaction to sun exposure. it can lead to swelling, difficulty breathing, burning sensations, an itchy red rash that looks like small blisters, skin peeling, nausea, and itchy brown/orange tinted blotches that mostly appear on your face/neck area and can stay there for days after the initial poising.

see the point on reef safe sunscreen to learn more about why you need to use reef safe sunscreen.

take your jewelry off before going in the ocean. sharks are attracted to jewelry, blood, and things like surfboard or boogie boards that make you look like a seal

sharks don’t eat people on purpose, they can’t see very well so they rely on their sense of smell, to smell blood, and their limited vision which mistakes shiny jewelry for shiny fish scales and boards for seals due to the similar shape. sharks do something called sensory biting, meaning they will bite you to see if you are food. don’t do things that make you look like food.

avoid swimming at night

during the day sharks tend to stay out past the sand bar, an area off the shore where sand has built up to a platform. however, at night they move closer to the shore, so try to avoid night swimming. and because the moon is out, the waves are always bigger and rougher.

stingray shuffle

the stingray shuffle is getting your feet buried slightly under the sand in the ocean and shuffling your feet aa you walk, hence the name. depending on what time of year you come it may be stingray season and it’s recommended to do this during that time to avoid getting stung.

be cautious of currents

currents can move you every which way and suddenly your 30 feet away from your set up on the sand. currents can also move you out to sea which can be extremely dangerous. so if you notice a tugging feeling or notice that your further away from your stuff, watch yourself to make sure you don’t stray to far away.

try not to shave the day of going into the water and try not to enter the water with open wounds

while oceans aren’t as bad as lakes when it comes to bacteria, they are still very bacteria filled and you can get an infection real quick. so shave a day or two before and make sure your wounds are closed because some infections can lead to rashes, bubbles, or even amputation.

check for red tide and research it

red tide isn’t talked about very often but it is disgusting. red tide is discolored sea water caused by toxic red dinoflagellates (microorganisms). it kills tons of sea life which causes said dead sea life to wash up on beaches and float in the water which attracts predators like sharks and big fish. it also releases toxins into the air which makes it hard to breathe, and for people with asthma or any other respiratory problems this can cause serious illness. the west coast of florida is dealing with some red tide right now if you want to research it.

try not to honk at people while driving

this is something taught in other southern states as well, and my parents taught it to me when i was learning to drive. if you honk at someone you are running the risk of being followed and shot. a lot of people have guns down here and they aren’t afraid to use them. now this will not happen every time you honk, i have been in cars where the driver has honked and nothing happened. but it’s better to be safe than sorry because some people don’t know how to handle their road rage.

prepare for the humidity

i know your weather app says that it’s 85 degrees but it feels like 93 when you go outside because of the humidity. that’s why florida people wear layers.

rain does not last as long here as it does in northern states

if it starts raining your day is not ruined. in florida , unless there is a hurricane or tropical storm, rain storms normally only last for like 20-30 minutes at a time. if there is a little group of them you will get spurts of rain and no rain for like an hour or two at most. when there are big storms they normally last for a couple hours, but we don’t get storms like that super often.

gator safety

something that it taught in all florida elementary schools, if an alligator is chasing you run in one direction for 10-15 feet, then make a hard turn in another direction and repeat (this is what we mean when we say running in zigzags, not like hopping side to side as you run), if an alligator has a grip on one of your limbs or someone else’s, plug your fingers or something else up it’s nose so it’s forced to open its mouth the breathe, and don’t touch gator babies, the mom can and will come for you.

shark safety

also something that is taught in all florida elementary schools, but shark safety is more common knowledge than gator safety. it a shark has a grip on you, punch them in the nose. it’s a sensitive point and they normally release you and swim away. as previously mentioned, sharks don’t like to eat people, they don’t think we taste good. so unless it’s starving sharks won’t try to eat a human that they can tell is a human. however if you don’t follow the previously stated shark safety tips, they may mistake you for a fish or seal.

unless you’re on a private beach, spots on the sand are first come first serve

just because you had a spot yesterday does not mean you have that spot for the rest of your vacation, that’s not how the beach works. you have to get there early if you want a specific spot.

don’t touch the manatees

manatees are an endangered species, meaning that you can not touch them. it’s illegal. that being said, if the manatee floats it’s happy round little self over to you and touches you then that’s fine, you can’t control what the manatee does. but if you actively swim towards and reach for the manatee and someone with a legal standing or a life guard sees you, you can get in trouble.

most sea life is not violent until provoked

manatees are not violent at all, they just float there, that’s why they’re endangered. but creatures like sharks and stingrays are not dangerous unless they think your there to fight or they mistake you for food. that’s why you stingray shuffle, because if you step on a stingray it will see you as a threat and sting you. and that’s why you take the shark prevention seriously so they don’t mistake you for food.

dolphin safety; admire from a distance

oh but dolphins are nice! wrong! dolphins are very dangerous creatures, just not in all the same ways that sharks are. they are one of the only creatures on the planet aside from humans who do malicious things knowing that they are malicious. dolphins at swim with experiences have given humans lacerations and broken bones. they are still predators and while it only happens rarely, dolphins do bite and attack people. dolphins are incredibly smart, strong, and fast. if they feel threatened they will swim at you full force and hit you with their head/body as hard as they possibly can. one woman named valerie ryan was hit by a dolphin which resulted in six spinal fractures, a damaged lung, and ptsd. dolphins are civil for the most part, but they are astonishingly smart and strong, and will attack if provoked or threatened, so it’s better to avoid close contact with them and admire from a distance or from a boat.

get reef safe sunscreen

all spray sunscreens and quite a few lotions contain toxic chemicals that are contributing to killing reefs. australian gold makes botanical reef safe sunscreen with spfs from 30 to 70, and they make a spray with the smallest amount of the toxic chemical that they can if you desperately need a spray. get reef safe sunscreen. it doesn’t matter if you’re not swimming in the ocean all run off from showers, sinks, toilets, and other water systems ends up in the ocean. so even if you spend the day in the city or at a theme park, if you come home a wash off that sunscreen it will end up in the ocean.

theme park tips

bring a mini battery powered or chargeable fan or you will wish that you did. watch the weather, if it looks like it’s going to rain head to a restaurant and eat lunch or dinner, by the time you’re done the rain will most likely be over. do what you want to do the most or what normally has the longest line right when the park opens, the line will be the shortest then. download the park apps to monitor the wait times for rides and to see if any are closed, delayed, or virtual line only. if you plan on buying souvenirs do so an 2-3 hours before the park closes, this way you won’t have to carry the bags around all day and you can beat the closing crowd. try to plan your route ahead of time so that you won’t be walking to and fro because someone wanted to do this ride that’s on the other side of the park and after that someone else wants to do a ride that’s right by the place you were before, if you don’t your feet will hurt like a mf at the end of the day and you’ll waste time walking all over the place. bring a travel sized deodorant, baby wipes, hand sanitizer, period products, and anything else you may need that they might not sell.

theme parks with kids (courtesy of my mother)

bring your own snacks and water (you’re allowed). once again, mini fan. frog togs are another way to keep kids cool without having to do much cause you just like put it on their neck. find a rest spot, my mom said that when she and my dad would take us to theme parks when we were little they had designated rest spots where they would sit and let us nap, eat snacks, and cool off in the shade. put a bead bracelet on your child with your name, their name, and your number on it if your worried that they may get lost. make reservations, hungry kids are no fun, and if they have to sit and wait for a restaurant for a long time they will get hangry, making a reservation around the time that they normally get hungry is a way to avoid this. bring a change of clothes.

think that’s all, and enjoy your vacation lol

[ignitification]

is it that * account? Their takes are terrible😐 i read before that they said that young toya used his trauma as a psychological weapon against natsuo and i was like WHAT and also shit like dku's bullying wasn't a societal issue actually which uh again,What and this lady nagant bashing? It's almost misogynistic. like I get she wasn't referenced before and treated badly by/for the narrative but she absolutely was nuanced and nagant's takes on society weren't perfect but came from a jaded perspective of being used to brutally keep up the system. Which in the same vein, when was hawks referenced in the story before his intro? what has he really provided to the narrative other than being a cog in the system who upholds the system, pushes for the hero ranking system of having a symbol - and this one being a egoistic abuser - and kills for the system and doesn't have any particular remorse for it and believes the perpetrators of the system over its victims?

Hi, anon! To confirm your suspicions, yes. I do find some of their takes problematic and uncomfortable to read but I also used to like some of their stuff and sometimes I did agree with different statement they made. However, this said, the fact that a lot of people have been reducing the character of Lady Nagant to an appearance of nothing, with no personality and just a rebooted female version of Hawks, does not sit right with me. I honestly don’t remember anything about what they said about Touya/Natsuo (I don’t follow, and I just happen to see some posts when they get rbed in the feed or in the tags) nor about Izuku’s bullying so I’d have to take your word for it (I’m sorry, I really do not care enough to go look for any of these takes, I don’t think it’s worth my time). But as for the Lady Nagant thing, yeah I thoroughly agree with you. I think that the entire existence of her character is to give another dimension to the narrative (which other character couldn’t, so the argument of her being shallow really does not stand on its feet) and to have a positive (or negative, for that matter) impact on Izuku’s development as someone who tries to change the tide of things. I have talked in length about how I think Izuku will become the Greatest Hero exactly because of all he has been through and because he did not stop at the surface of the things (however faulty this statement might be, because while I do think Izuku is still far away from the character I’d like him to be, he still is trying to understand, giving a chance to himself to ask whether there is someone more to what his eyes can see, and that’s far more than any of other heroes have ever done). Lady Nagant therefore serves as both a confirmation and another perspective in the story that Izuku is trying to address/correct/understand - which has literally so little to do with Hawks, that I think the comparison is futile. She is a supernova, and she has been shining for a very short time - but brightly enough to actually pull at some strings for Mido. Which is, again, more than every other hero has ever done. No one actually stopped to tell him their story, and the fact that Izuku values heroes so much is only one of the factors why Lady Nagant’s story will have a huge influence on him and will resonate with Izuku. I really like her character, because she is blunt and honest, and to be honest she has (exactly as the other villains) more values than everyone else in the narrative. She has done bad things - and she has been punished for it. She recognised the need that maybe talking to the kid, instead of shooting him dead (like people are trying to assume, putting forward the argument of her career at the HPSC) or trying to weasel or lure him in, would probably be more effective. Also yeah, her view on society might not be perfect and her methods did not work, and she used to kill terrorists-to-be and all that yada yada, but she also wanted desperately out. She was smart enough to know that killing the President of the HPSC meant that her life was over and that anyways that would have not changed anything in terms of cogs of society, but she did something. She did not stand for the status quo anymore, and that’s where the beauty of her character comes in. Like Hawks, she was held in a cage where she could not refuse to be fed and she just went along with it, until she couldn’t and then she entirely decided to throw herself and everything she had worked for hard at the wind, to end up in Tartarus - but free of the Damocle sword that the HPSC and society norms held above her head. This is entirely opposite of how we are introduced to Hawks’ character, Just because he has been longer in the narrative, as you said, it does not hold true that his introduction was not out of nowhere. I was so confused when we hear Tokoyami having his internship with him and it is only then we discover who he is. Is it nowhere better than Lady Nagant, who is instead at least seen once before (chapter 296/297) with the Tartarus escape. I already however talked about all the faults that Hawks has, and the values he upholds (and the abuse he justifies) so I won’t be repeating myself, but that’s the downline of it. He had no active role in the down bringing of the HPSC (for reason I stated here, confuting once again of the posts of this same account, funnily enough), and he is still supportive of Endeavour, notwithstanding his own past and the detailed account of Dabi’s story (on here I also wrote so much lately, just scroll to see), which is still a memento that Hawks is part of the system, and he does not see himself capable of living without that same system (the system being society - and the comfort that the familiarity of Endeavour brings him). It is really pointless to compare the two character, who stand diametrically opposite on one another in the narrative. I also dislike the choice of Horikoshi that lets Hawks have his moments of saving Lady N’s fall, because it once again, shows how Hawks’ double standard heavily influence his own standard of life (which is worth for his identity of hero and spy, his relationship with Endeavour and Dabi, and him killing Twice and looking down on the League, while still talking affectionately about Lady N), and that is exactly why Hawks’ character fails to acknowledge his fault as his own. Since he is part of the system, his actions are part of the system too, no matter whether wrong or right. If the show (system) must go on, then he will make sure it will. 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

where does it end?

Pairing: Queen!Reader x Knight!Bucky Barnes 

Warning(s): angst, sexual themes, triggering content, dark!steve

A/N: by @lookiamtrying​ request, i am posting the last part to an year old mini fanfic i wrote. last chapter inspired by love me or leave me. enjoy xx

The world had barely seen the Queen ever since her loss. She was locked in her room and never left for any reason. Steve had been assigned her duties and her meals were taken into her chambers by her handmaidens. She had even moved her King and husband from her room. No one heard from her and some handmaidens were quick to start coming up with the wildest of theories while some believed she could be expecting, but James knew it wasn’t the truth. 

     - The King’s calling for you, Sir Barnes. - Natalia walked into the training chambers where he was supervising some new blood into the royal army. James sighed, turning to his second and telling him to take his place before following the redhead into the King’s headquarters.

He wasn’t very keen on talking to him much less look at him. James despised him with every drop of his being but yet he couldn’t figure out if it was because he had gotten the ultimate prize or if he had threatened to have her head cut off due to infidelity which had never happen. 

They finally stopped in front of the King’s Quarters which had been the young Queen’s library and now rudely turned into somewhere where Lord Rogers rudely tried to take her place. He was royalty but he didn’t have the grace or the beautiful ruling ability the Queen had. 

    - Your Royal Highness ... - the redheaded female knocked on the huge mahogany doors whose initials had been removed. She slowly opened the door to see the blonde reading some papers. - Sir Barnes is here, as you requested. 

    - Thank you, Lady Romanova. - he said, not even looking up from his papers. Natalia took James inside, leaving him there only hearing his heartbeat and the wood crackling on the fireplace. He heard the doors closing behind and his last conversation with the king came to mind. 

    - Your Majesty, what do you wish from me? - no matter how hard he disliked the man, he was still his King and while Y/N was unavailable, he’d have to answer to him and only him.

    - You are a smart man, Sir Barnes. My advisors say you take it after your father, ever so calculating. You’re a man who, like me, knows that despite our dear Queen being ever so thoughtful, ever so loved, she has one job that she needs to do as a Royal of her gender. Can you tell me what is it?

    - Provide heirs to ensure the house keeps on. - James refused to look Steve in the eyes. He didn’t understand where he was going, he didn’t understand why he asked that. - What does that have to do with me, your majesty?

    - She refuses to see me and since she’s the rightful heir, her advisors have suggested another husband for the Queen considering we won’t produce any heirs. - Steve got up from his seat walking up to one of the countless shelves filled with books owned by the crown family. - I’ve spent years in my brother’s shade, heir in spare and I will not have my marriage annulled and lose my crown because my wife refuses to lay with me. 

    - I don’t understand what that has to do with me, Your Majesty. 

    - My wife clearly doesn’t want to lay with me but she doesn’t seem to have minded laying with you before we were married. At this point I don’t care who the child is as long as she’s pregnant. 

Bucky’s heart sank into his stomach as his brain started to process what he was asking of him. It couldn’t be, he wouldn’t want that, Bucky couldn’t do that. His eyes seemed void of life as he looked up at his King whose position was so so fickle.

    - I don’t think I understand, your Majesty. - Bucky hoped he didn’t understand, he really hoped he was wrong. 

   - What part of fuck my wife do you not understand, Sir Barnes? - he growled at the man standing in front of him. - I will not be thrown off my rightful throne because my wife refuses to get knocked up. 

   - With all due respect, your Majesty, it is her rightful throne. She’s the heir.

   - You see, Sir Barnes I really don’t wanna accuse my wife of adultery. It will end up in her beheading and I really don’t think the people would enjoy that. Besides, of course I will pay you a good amount for your service and it’s not like I will deprive you of seeing the child. - Bucky could feel himself churn at the thought of the man so many called loyal and rightful treat Y/N as if she were a breeding dog, as if she were a business, as if she wasn’t the human with the heart of gold he knew she had.

No, no, Bucky couldn’t do that to her. He knew his Queen like the palm of his heart, she was sweet, fair and anyone who’s by her company normally basks in her light which seems to reflect of her own words. He couldn’t agree to treat her as if she was merely a breeding object but he also couldn’t allow for her to be beheaded. It terrified him to see the face he used to love to wake up next to, her little smirky whenever she stole swords from knights as her princess, her sunny smile whenever she performed an operetta correctly gone. He couldn’t see her gone. No. He had promised to protect his sovereign and she would always be her Queen.

     - I cannot do that. 

     - Your father fought to protect this kingdom. I am fighting to protect it too, you cannot let a woman rule by herself, who’ll inherit the throne? Besides, you surely didn’t mind fucking her like a cheap whore when she wasn’t married.

     - Your wife has always been loyal to you since her marriage. I’ve told you that before. 

     - Then I think you have a choice to make. 

Bucky felt the world collapse on top of his. Through his mind rushed the moments he had shared with her, from the very first moment he met her sitting at one of her mother’s teas, pink frilly dress, the smile she gave him to her wedding when he refused to stop the ceremony. He wondered if he should’ve had stopped but he also wondered what life he could’ve given her. It didn’t matter anymore, he should’ve stopped it, he should’ve done something. He thought of the life she could’ve had if he had stopped her, she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, she wouldn’t have lost the baby, he wouldn’t have disappointed her once again and she wouldn’t be traded around like a harlot.

As he exited the study, he knew what he had to do. He had to take her away from the kingdom as sure as possible, send her to one of their allies, maybe to one of her younger sister’s kingdoms gained by marriage, anywhere that could aid her in stopping what was happening behind her back.

    - Don’t. - he turned around to see his wife, Natalia. She held a cold look in her face, too cold contrasted to her fiery red hair but he still could point out the crack in the ice of her eyes. It was still there, begging. - I know what you’re thinking about, James. Don’t do it. 

    - Get off my way, Natalia. - she stood in front of him like an unmovable rock, stronger than the tide itself, never stopping. - I won’t say it again.

    - Just sleep with her, James. He’ll pay you well and we could leave this, we could maybe buy a piece of land, start over. - jealousy is a damned thing, he realised. He realised jealousy had shaped the wife once friend who he had known all his life as someone who knew right from wrong, it had shaped her into a cunning woman, one which knew how to ride the problem of her marriage away. But she couldn’t erase the problem, she could never get what was already someone else’s, no matter how hard she tried. - You’ll only end up getting yourself killed.

    - Move.

    - No, James. 

    - Do not make me hurt you. - he stepped closer to the red head, close enough he could feel her breathing on his face, fists clenched. 

    - Would you hurt your wife for her? 

Yes. The answer was yes but he wouldn’t say it to her. Instead he shoved her away from him, watching as his lack of answer broke through her cold facade allowing him to overpower her. Natalia watched as he strode through the halls, not even looking back. He had been gone a long, long time away, but now, now he was walking away and she stood in the corridor, on her knees, stubborn soul refusing for the tears gathered on her eyes to stream down her face, hate growing where love once blossomed. 

Bucky strode through the corridors, the phantom of Y/N still haunting him as if the memory of younger, better days were pulling at his brain like bottled regrets. She would always let her hand close to his, hoping for him to grab it and he never did, he never did. He wondered why he never did. As he stepped closer to her chambers, he could see her handmaids surrounding the door, still locked out and not allowed in. 

   - You’re needed elsewhere. - he spoke in a tone which left no room for interpretation. The girls immediately rush away, fears of the man which seemed to had turned bitter with time too present in their minds. Bucky didn’t care or feel any pity for them. They had comfortable lives, they didn’t need pity, they needed to be away from the Queen.

His hand went straight to the door handle, pushing it open but the door didn’t budge. Y/N was still locked in. He tried in, hoping the door would cave in but once again it didn’t. They weren’t supposed to cave in. His fists started banging against the gold encrusted door and had he not lost his flesh arm long years ago, it would’ve started bleeding from the force alone. 

    - Open the door, Y/N! - desperation dripped from his voice but she herself, like the door didn’t cave in.

   - Stop banging on the door and go away, James. - he could hear her from the other door. So close and yet so far away.

   - Open this door or so help me I will break it down myself. - Y/N didn’t doubt him. She knew what his arm could do but she was also much too smart not to get hurt again. Nevertheless, she unlocked the door, turning the small golden key held by the lock and he immediately pushed the door open. Her eyes scanned him, he was deranged, like an animal in the wild.

   - Get out, James. I swear I will call the guards on you. 

   - We need to go. - he walked into her bedroom, straight to the hanger where her cape hanged from. Grabbing it, he threw it at her but Y/N remained in her spot, no affection for him in his face. Had he not been so concerned for her head remaining on her shoulders, it would’ve hurt him. - I said we need to go, Y/N. 

    - You don’t get to order me around. 

    - Do you still love me? - the question took Y/N by surprise. Almost as if something had hit her, she took a few steps back, looking behind her to see that not so far away there were some guards. She could just call for them.

    - James, I will call the gu ...

    - Do you still love me? - he interrupted the young queen, punctuating every single word like a stab on an already aching heart. There was no saint, there was no devil, just two aching hearts filled with scars that were starting to harden the youthful hope it used to harbour.

Did she still love him? Yes. She can’t find the words to tell him, head and heart bleeding in negative thoughts. She could never say to him she didn’t and whenever she told him she did, he would turn his face and walk away leaving her broken, shattered on the floor by a love surely classic love tales warned her about. In her memory everything still burned from when he said he didn’t love her from when he called himself a mere companion. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she loved him so instead she nodded.

    - I have to get you out right now. I’ll explain later. - he stepped towards her but there was no ice cold nature to him, no violence. Instead, he slide the cape behind her, tying it around her neck before placing the hood over her head. It was a bleak brown cape she would use whenever going into the town’s market. 

His hand wrapped around hers as he turned the opposite way from the guards, walking towards the training grounds from which he could sneak her out and into the carriage which led into the town where she could get a train ticket into one of her sisters’ kingdoms. He kept rushing through the halls until a very familiar voice made him stop, rushing her to the opposite corridor. Both of them were up against the wall. 

   - Thank you for letting me know, Natalia. - the voice boomed through the corridor before he turned to address the guard with him. - Make sure Sir Barnes and the Queen leave. Sadly, our Queen seems to have chosen an illicit affair over her wedding and therefore she is a traitor to our country. 

Y/N looked up to Bucky, not understanding exactly what had happened but knowing she clearly couldn’t remain in the castle. Bucky mouthed kitchen to her, before helping her rush down the corridor onto the kitchen. Both of them ran through the oven heated grounds until the wooden door. Luckily for them, it was open.

   - Here. - Bucky handed her a small pouch. - There’s enough for a train ticket and more if anything happens. 

   - Are you coming?

   - Bucky, you’re gonna be killed. If affair isn’t believed, he’ll surely blame you for rape or kidnapping and he’ll kill you.

   - Y/N.

   - Do you love me? - she had one hand on the open door’s handle and one extended to him.

Yes. His hand touched hers and they exited, door behind them closed as everything was left behind.

[addicted2escapism]

Troublemaker | JJ Maybank

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: You have a very short fuse and are quick to jump to violence. When you get into a particularly bad situation, JJ has to calm you down.

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of a gun

You sat with your arms crossed in John B’s van, with a clenched jaw and an uncontrollable anxious bounce in your right leg. You stared out the window, desperate to avoid conversation with any of your friends. John B and JJ had picked you up from the Kook’s side of the island after catching word about you getting into a fight with a girl. By the time John B’s van had sped across the island, you’d already done a number on the Kook.

She provoked you, but of course the cops wouldn’t care about your side of the story. John B and JJ couldn’t save that girl’s face, but they did save you from the police. You were gone before they could arrive. The boys hadn’t spoken to you much, only telling you to “get in the van” and “alright, you’ve done enough”, but you knew a reprimand was coming. John B hated when you resorted to violence, so he’d do most of the talking. JJ was more worried about you getting into trouble with the cops.

“Ok, look,” John B started, causing you to lean your forehead against the window a little too hard and quip: “Here we go.”

“You already know what I’m going to say. I wish I didn’t have to keep saying it.” He took his eyes off the road to glance at you. Only a few minutes before you arrived at his house, and you could bolt from this awful conversation.

“What do you want from me, John B?” You snap, talking with your hands erratically. “That Kook started it, and what was I supposed to do? Just take it? I am so tired of them thinking they can push us around!”

“Hey. It’s okay.” JJ catches your attention from the back of the van, holding a half smoked blunt between his fingers. He offers it to you, but you shake your head. You wanted to stay mad for a bit longer. “Suit yourself.”

“JJ, back me up here!” John B pleads, looking at him in the rearview mirror. JJ exhales a laugh.

“I mean, shit, John B. She has a point.” You’ve never been more grateful to arrive at John B’s house in your life. You jump out of the van immediately and storm inside, savoring the few seconds of being alone before the boys followed you in.

–––––

A party raged on the Pogue’s side of the island, music blared and drunk teenagers staggered around. You were sober. Drinking wasn’t really your thing, you’d rather be fully aware and alert for anything that came at you sideways. Tonight, it happened to be Rafe Cameron. Of course.

You noticed him beelining for you out of the corner of your eye, and you turned to watch him down the rest of whatever was in his red solo cup, crush it, and toss it into the sand. Kiara would hate that he just littered, you thought distantly, squaring yourself up and standing tall as he approached.

“Hi, Rafe.” You smiled sweetly, not wanting to draw the attention of any partygoers, or worse, John B. “What can I do for you this eveni-”

“Shut the fuck up.” He cuts you off harshly, but throws an arm over your shoulders and smiles down at you. “You, little miss anger issues, recently broke the nose of a pretty little Kook. Ring any bells?”

“Of course.” You confirm arrogantly, dipping out of his hold to face him head on. “She started an argument, and I bashed her face in.”

“Listen, bitch.” Rafe’s face morphs in anger, and before you can dodge him he grabs your wrist and crowds into your personal space. You try to jerk your arm away but his grip is so tight, you’re certain you’ll have a hand shaped bruise tomorrow. “You think you can just run around my side of the island without consequences? I’ll ruin your life.”

“So could I, Rafe. Tell me, how’s your... white powder business going?” You definitely shouldn’t have brought up something of that caliber, but it just slipped out. Similarly to the way Rafe’s hand “slips” and connects with your face.

You don’t waste any time registering the way your cheek stings, retaliating immediately with a right hook to his face. He’s taller than you, but it didn’t matter. You were angrier. Pain fueled you in a way that was most likely unhealthy. Combine the physical hurt with the blatant disrespect from Rafe, and you were immediately itching for a fight.

Your fist connected with his face beautifully, staggering him to the side for a couple seconds. You took the opportunity to bring your knee into his stomach, doubling him over. He grabbed you and pulled you down to the sand with him, using his weight to overcome you and pin you to the ground. You bucked wildly underneath him, trying to dislodge him while also trying to land another hit to his face.

By now, the music had shut off completely and a crowd formed a circle around the two of you. Some were chanting for you to “fight” but you were practically deaf with rage. You managed to get a grip on Rafe’s neck, giving him an ultimatum of losing his air supply or getting off you. He didn’t get the opportunity to choose, because he was suddenly ripped away from you, and a second later, there were hands under your arms, lifting you to your feet.

It was John B that yanked Rafe off you, of course, and you saw it as nothing more than an opportunity to bolt forward and strike him again. Someone grabs your waist and hauls you backwards before your fist can connect, and you immediately start fighting against their hold.

“Stop! Hey, you gotta calm down!” JJ yells over the commotion, spinning you around so that Rafe isn’t in your line of sight.

“Get off me, JJ!” You shout, prying his arms off of you and making a break for it again. JJ tries to grab you but you push him away and advance towards where Rafe stands, arguing with John B.

Your fist closes around the back of Rafe’s collar and you pull him towards you. At the same time Topper bursts through the crowd. Rafe is quick to turn around and push you away with enough strength that sends you flying backwards into shallow water. Topper had occupied himself with John B, who’d also gotten pushed to the ground. You tried to get up, but were held down by Rafe, who forced your head into the water. It stung your eyes as you fought against him, trying to tilt your head to the side for air.

“You worthless lowlife.” Rafe growls, letting up slightly to make sure you were paying attention to his words. “Don’t ever threaten me again.”

The tide came in and pushed more water into your eyes, but through your blurred vision you saw JJ push Topper to the ground and then run towards you.

The weight on top of you lifted so you scramble to your feet, eager to cough out the water that had filled your lungs during your panic for air. JJ pushed Rafe away and said something along the lines of “get out of here”, and behind them Topper was shouting something similar, his left eye already bruising. Rafe nodded and backed away slowly towards the sound of Topper’s voice. He worked his jaw for a moment, and you opened your mouth to spew out some witty one-liner as he left, but you were horribly cut off when he spit blood in your face.

Most of it didn’t touch you, instead landing on the sand, but you saw red regardless. JJ was smart to grab you again before you could make a move. You grabbed at the arms that were around your waist, but he wouldn’t let up so easily this time.

“Do you have the gun?” You question breathlessly, squirming in his hold as you watch a bloodied Rafe and Topper stalk away. “Give me the gun, JJ, I know you have it!”

“Whoa, whoa, okay, stop! Stop.” He turns you around in his grip, pulling you in so you’re chest to chest. “Look at me. You need to calm down.”

Behind you, John B was yelling at the crowd to go home and get off this side of the island.

“JJ-” Your breath hitches, forcing you to swallow and take full, deep breaths. Your hands stilled on his chest where they were previously trying to push him away. “I...”

“It’s okay. Rafe’s an asshole, I know. But you’ve done enough. You got him.” JJ speaks lowly, only to you. Your lips twisted into a frown when you felt the strange sensation of tears welling up in your eyes. You’ve never cried after a fight. When the tears begin to fall, you take one hand off JJ’s chest to harshly wipe them away, disoriented from the new emotion.

“Man, we gotta go.” John B’s voice breaks through the force field that seemed to surround you and JJ. The boy holding you nods and attempts to untangle from you, but you take a fistful of his shirt and try to hide your wet face in his shoulder. You’ve never cried in front of the Pogue’s before, and you’ve never cried from being angry. Or at least, that’s why you thought you were crying. You didn’t know what you felt.

“Okay. Let’s go.” JJ says like he’s deciding something important, and then scoops you up with your legs around his waist. It’s easy for him to carry you. With the way you were clinging, you probably wouldn’t even fall if he let go.

Back at John B’s house, you were sat on the couch, body aching now that the adrenaline had worn off. You didn’t have too many physical marks on you yet, but you knew your back would be sore for at least a day from how hard Rafe pushed you down. There was a darkening ring around your wrist from Rafe’s vice-like grip. JJ’s nostrils had flared when he saw the bruising, immediately moving to get you a bag of ice.

Now, he knelt in front of you while you held the ice to your wrist, his hands on your knees.

“You really scared me, y’know.” He says softly, looking up into your eyes.

“You’ve never been scared when I fought people before.” You deflect, unable to hold his gaze, settling for watching John B pace back and forth a couple feet away. You tensed, waiting for him to scold you.

“Well, you’ve never asked about the gun before.” JJ counters, glancing away to follow your line of sight. He reaches up and gently holds your jaw, forcing you to look at him instead.

“I... I don’t know. I was just-” You paused, knowing how pathetic you sounded. “Mad.”

“Yeah.” JJ chuckles softly, stroking your jawline with his thumb once before pulling his hand away. You caught yourself from leaning forward to chase his touch. “I know I’m probably not a great example myself-”

“It’s just not good for you to keep fighting people. We’re not going to be able to save you forever, and I don’t want you to end up in jail!” John B cuts in, running a hand through his wavy hair.

“I don’t need you to save me!” You snap and stand up quickly, the bag of ice forgotten on the couch. The fast motion has you wincing when the back of your head throbs. JJ rises with you, taking your non-bruised wrist into his hand.

“I really don’t think this is what she needs right now, dude.” JJ speaks up, turning towards his friend. John B sighs, nodding.

“I’ll be outside.” He exits, closing the front door behind him. You watch him leave, chest tightening in a way that feels like you might cry again. What was happening to you?

“He’s just worried about you. So am I.” JJ comforts, taking one look at your face and opening his arms. “Come here.”

You sink into his embrace, squeezing your eyes shut to block the tears. He’s warm, and the hand rubbing up and down your back soothes you in a way you’d never felt before. JJ was a touchy friend, yes, but you’d never gotten in a situation that warranted so much physical contact from him before.

“Sorry.” You resist the urge to shiver when his hand brushes over the back of your neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why am I crying? I just-”

Realization dawns on you.

“No one’s ever comforted me after a fight.” You state simply. It was true. Normally they let you be mad, or you forced yourself to stay mad, never allowing anyone to calm you down or convince you out of attack mode.

JJ pulls away slightly, trying to make eye contact. You will yourself to return it, eyes mostly dry since the tears that managed to escape had soaked into his shirt.

“Well, maybe you can give me a chance to talk you down before you get into a fight.” JJ smiles softly. “I don’t think this streak of violence is very good for you.”

“You’ve gotten into fights.” You point out.

“To defend my friends. I don’t think it’s quite the same.” He was right and you knew it. You fought people because it was easy. It was easy to be mad, much easier than showing any other emotion. Emotions that had been bottled up long enough, since all it took was JJ offering any sort of security for you to start crying.

“Yeah.” It’s all you can say. You find yourself wanting to be back in his embrace.

“Just try, okay? If you feel some type of way, come to me. Or Kiara. Or Pope. Or John B. I’ve seen you hurt way too much for my liking.” He squeezes your hand.

“Okay.” You agree, squeezing back. “I’ll try.”

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: “Gravity”

Good lord, folks. Buckle your seat-belts because we’ve got a lot to get through this episode. I think this is my longest recap to date, so settle in.

Episode Eleven’s “Gravity” starts out simple enough, focusing on the two fights we’d set up during “Out in the Open.” First up, Ironwood vs. Watts. Overall this fight does a really excellent job of showcasing their different fighting styles. Right from the start Watts is pointing his gun forward to take a clear shot at Ironwood, whereas Ironwood points his backwards to use as a surge of momentum.

He’s going to do this frequently throughout the battle, constantly using his gun to maneuver in the air, slow falls, regain his balance, and change directions, a much more complicated series of choices than the one-off shots we see Ruby use with her sniper rifle. This is partly because Ironwood seems to have a much larger supply of bullets---some sort of energy/dust ammo---than Watts does. His steampunk-esque gun holds only nineteen bullets, requiring him to keep track throughout the fight. Which is always a fun trope but sorry, Watts, you can’t compare to the king.

Thus, with limited weaponry available to him, Watts is forced to get creative with the arena itself. We see him manipulating gravity, shooting up columns of water and fire, and making use of his own pathways between platforms, all in an effort to throw Ironwood off and catch up unawares. However, Ironwood is, frankly, the much better fighter. He was right last week to assume he could handle Watts even though he sent three off to tackle Tyrian. He’s able to recover much more quickly and learns from any mistakes, as evidenced by his ability to hit Watts dead on while in the air the second time he takes out the gravity. When they come together in hand-to-hand Ironwood easily dominates, no doubt thanks not just to his military training and huntsmen lifestyle, but also in large part to his prosthetics which I would assume grant him more speed and power. Throughout the course of the fight we see Watts consistently take more damage to his aura and he’s unable to sense when Ironwood is sneaking up on him. After that little maneuver, Watts (presumably) grows reckless and lets off his last three or four shots in a random barrage. All of them miss.

This emphasis on emotion continues when they land back onto the main stage with Watts shouting, “You never appreciated my genius, James! You just stood atop it and called yourself a giant.” Oh, did Ironwood actually do something horrendous in the past? Is there something juicy that would explain---though not excuse---Watts’ turn towards villainy? Nah. He quickly follows that up with, “You chose that fat imbecile over me!” referring to Pietro. So... nice one, Watts. Crazy arrogance, willful ignorance of Pietro’s own, clear genius (anyone who can create Penny is no slouch), as well as a bit of fat-shamming on top of it all. No sympathy from me.

This moment emphasizes how unhinged Watts is becoming though as the fight turns against him. Even when he manages to setup a head shot Ironwood reveals, “You’re smart, but you’re not the only one who can count,” referencing that Watt’s emotions got the better of him, leading to him wasting his last bullet before it could be of real use.

...except not. I’ve got to admit, I was very pleased when all of this---or at least this particular moment---was merely a plan to get Ironwood to let his guard down. Watts is way too smart a character to be done in by the “You got too emotional and that made you sloppy” trope. So kudos there (even if it remains to be seen whether that Pietro comment was really his motivation, or just another part of the plan). Instead, he uses Ironwood’s confidence in his victory to trap him with the rings that control the arena, essentially pinning Ironwood’s non-prosthetic arm through the energy shields he’s been using. We can immediately see that the parts that have touched Ironwood already have horribly burned the skin.

And that ends up being Watt’s downfall. Not stupidity on his own part, but his lack of understanding of Ironwood himself. He assumes that this truly is a trap for him, rather than another sacrifice. After all, what fool would ruin their one remaining arm to stop him? Watts himself wouldn’t. Don’t pull, he cautions Ironwood, not “unless you’re hoping to add more metal to that body of yours.” Watts goes so far as to turn his back on Ironwood who then makes the sacrifice we all knew he would. One burned, useless arm later and he’s free.

I would like everyone to keep this moment in mind. Namely the utter devastation of it. I’d go so far as to say it’s as bad at Yang losing her arm in Volume 3. Despite seeing it bandaged later, Watts at least thinks it will be a complete loss if Ironwood sacrifices it. He’ll need to “add more metal,” AKA replace his arm, so though he obviously still has it in the following scenes, we don’t know if it will ever be functional again. Just as important, Ironwood had to choose to do that to himself. That wasn’t a horrific, but ultimately clean cut done in a moment of surprise. That was a conscious decision, a slow pull through all that pain, and then having to finish your fight immediately afterward. It’s a very different kind of psychological trauma, no better or worse than having someone take your arm from you by force. Throughout this volume I’ve seen a lot of fans being critical not only of Ironwood’s main decisions, but just his overall attitude as well. Too strict, too stern, doesn’t smile enough, yells sometimes, etc. basically associating someone who isn’t all sunshine and smiles with someone who is “bad.” Ignoring for the moment that we can say the same thing about many of our group---notably Yang---I have little doubt that I’ll see similar posts after this episode. Writings in the vein of, “Ironwood is unhinged! I can’t believe he yelled and hit his desk like that!” So everyone just keep this moment in mind and ask yourself how calm you’d be if you’d sacrificed your arm like that all of half an hour ago. And then found Salem’s calling card on your desk. And then came to the realization that the allies you trusted have been lying to you from the start. And then Salem herself appears to mock you. And then your city is about to be overrun. Basic summary of the rest of the episode: holy shit. So yeah. If Yang is allowed to be angry and upset after losing her arm, or just angry in general like she is in the later half of “Gravity,” I think we owe it to Ironwood to let him be angry too. I have a lot of feelings about the utter insanity he’s been forced through with little to no support and if he wants to take all that out by hitting his desk once, by god I’d say that’s a good coping strategy given the circumstances. Both the writing and the fans tend to erase trauma once you’ve passed age 25. The girls have every right to be upset, to break, to not trust people because they’ve been through a few months of hardship, but Ozpin isn’t allowed the same after a couple thousand years of that. We’re going to see the same hypocrisy later in this episode---the group can be upset about lies but Ironwood is not---and I’m hoping (against hope) that the fandom doesn’t make that worse by sweeping this injury under the rug. It’s horrific and absolutely has a bearing on his inability to keep his cool with the group immediately afterwards. We’ve long passed Ironwood owing them endless reassurances and calm responses. 

Anyway, Ironwood still manages to finish the fight because his remaining arm is his robotic one, giving him the strength to easily drag and raise Watts into the air one-handed. He dangles him over the edge of the arena, announcing that he will “sacrifice whatever it takes to stop [Salem].” A clear bit of foreshadowing for his decision at the end of the episode. Watts responds that he hopes he does.

We then move to the Tyrian fight which, on the whole, I don’t think was done quite as well. Granted, there are a lot of enjoyable and badass moments. I like that Clover’s first act is to announce that Tyrian is under arrest, maintaining the law that Atlas (and Ironwood) works to uphold. It doesn’t matter that Tyrian is a crazy serial killer in league with an immortal sorceress hell-bent on destroying the world. Even crazy serial killers have rights and are given the option of surrendering, even when everyone present knows there’s exactly zero chance of that happening. It’s the principal of the thing and the ability to say, “We gave him a chance.” In a world overrun with inequality, this is a small but important attempt to level the field. If you do something wrong you face legal action and those rights are announced to you. Same for Tyrian. Same for Team RWBY. But we’ll get to that.

For now, we see Qrow attack first and like back in Volume Four he and Tyrian are pretty evenly matched. The tide doesn’t turn until Robyn and Clover come into play. Throughout this exchange we see a lot of cool combos among the three of them. Tyrian will block an incoming arrow with his tail only for Clover to snag it with his hook. Robyn can get another arrow to perfectly bounce off the walls and then Qrow’s scythe, hitting Tyrian dead on. Clover can dive between Tyrian’s legs, giving Qrow the opening he needs to attack. It is, as said, pretty badass... almost a little too badass. Personally, I would have appreciated them messing up once or twice. They’re all professionals, yes, but Qrow and Clover have only had one fight together. Robyn, meanwhile, wasn’t even allied with them until an hour ago. This is a situation where skills shouldn’t really trump, “We’re three very distinct people who don’t know each other’s fighting styles well, trying to attack one guy in very close quarters.” There should have been some screw-ups. Especially when we take semblances into account. What, are we supposed to assume here that Clover’s semblance just conveniently overrides Qrow’s? That no mistakes---let alone anything bad---will happen in this fight despite the fact that it’s an extreme parallel to Volume Four? That whole battle emphasized, “Don’t come closer!” because when people fight near Qrow bad shit happens. Now, he fights with two other people in a narrow alleyway and there’s not a single repercussion. Based on their travels looking for the geist, I don’t buy that Qrow’s semblance is just conveniently inactive while near Clover. Even if I did... that’s not a very good writing decision. To me, it’s just more evidence that Rooster Teeth doesn’t understand its own rules/doesn’t know what to do with an ability like Qrow’s. It causes problems only when they explicitly want it to. Then, miraculously, it’s no longer in effect.

Still, we’ll acknowledge that RWBY had a lot else it wanted to accomplish in this episode, so the need to power through this fight is somewhat justified. I personally would have had the entirety of this episode be the two battles---I was shocked when both ended just eight minutes in---but I’m obviously not the one writing the show. Thus, instead of an episode devoted to both the action and the emotion of confronting our two main villains this volume, Tyrian loses his cool after getting punched in the gut, manages to catch Robyn’s arrow in his teeth... 

But it’s a bomb. 

Down he goes. Fight’s done.

Which leads us into the second half of the episode. I want to preface this with a short acknowledgment before we go any further.

Did these last ten minutes give me what I’ve been looking for since the beginning of Volume Six? No. It’s easy to assume it did because all the pieces are there. Ironwood is finally angry about the secret keeping. The Ace Ops are criticizing the group left and right. Surely this is the “The group is capable of making mistakes and they should be called out for it!” that I wanted, right? Not really. For the simple reason that there is a massive difference between:

A story that acknowledges mistakes as mistakes. The characters either grow from this lesson or dig in their heels and are painted as being in the wrong for that decision.

and

A story that takes what the audience (me) perceives as mistakes and frames them as justified choices. The characters do not grow because they’re 100% sure they’re in the right and those who would criticize them are painted as in the wrong. 

“Gravity” is so far into that second option I don’t think the series can come back from it. Does the group face criticism? Yes, but every single time the writing insists that it’s undeserved criticism. It paints the group as the underdogs facing unfair odds, rather than equals---with all the responsibility that comes with that---facing criticism that they need to own up to. Absolutely nothing in this second half implies that the group is going to learn from their mistakes because they, and the writing, still insists that they weren’t mistakes. Which is precisely what we’ve gotten before. Cordovin might criticism them, but Cordovin is in the wrong. Winter might criticism them, but Winter is in the wrong. Every time a character goes, “Hey, you shouldn’t have done this” the group responds with, “Yes we should have!” and the story backs them up. Yes, you should have attacked Argus. Yes, you should have stolen an airship. Yes, you should have lied to Ironwood and spilled the secret to Robyn. Yes, yes, yes. That’s the takeaway every single time. The group is never in the wrong. Others just think they are and those others are painted as cruel, militaristic, unhinged characters.

It’s not at all what I was looking for. Just more of the same.

So that’s the preface. In terms of what we actually get, Ironwood returns to his office with his arm bandaged and in a sling, carrying Watts’ bag, only to drop it when he sees the queen piece on his desk. He calls Winter asking, “Was anyone caught entering the school grounds while I was away?” and when she says no Ironwood has her race off to the Winter Maiden, unknowingly leading Cinder there in the process. “Now show me where you’ve been hiding her.”

We then cut to the group where the trouble begins. They’re not just curious about why Ironwood is recalling them with Mantle still in need of evacuation, they’re actively questioning it. This is the attitude I simply don’t understand. The group acts as if Ironwood is deliberately screwing everyone over when they know better. This is no longer the beginning of the volume where they thought he was some horrific dictator hell bent on destroying his own Kingdom. This is just an hour or so after, “We should tell Ironwood!” and the happy-go-lucky ‘We trust him now’ moment. Even less time after Ruby stared up at him in awe with, “He’s doing it.” They had reason to trust him before they even made it to Atlas. They were given even more reasons in the form of Ironwood sharing his secrets, early licenses, and being allowed to work on the tower. They then still waited until Ironwood was doing everything they wanted before giving him some of that trust back... but the moment he stops doing precisely what they want---we want to keep evacuating Mantle---he’s deemed suspicious again. 

I mean seriously, is the group that dense? Are they incapable of thinking to themselves, “Wow, something must have happened if Ironwood is recalling us before evacuations are complete,” which is precisely the case. The scene tries to frame it as “Group Good” and “Ace Ops Blinding Obeying Orders Bad” but that aspect doesn’t even come into play. There’s nothing blind about it. It simply takes two seconds of critical thinking skills to realize that something really awful must have happened back at the Academy that trumps what you’re doing in Mantle. This is what I mean by the writing being biased. Before we even reach the fight in Ironwood’s office it’s trying to paint him as potentially cruel, potentially suspicious, potentially abandoning his people, look how worried our heroes are about this secret decision he’s made... when all that requires ignoring some really basic deduction in order to reach those assumptions. Remember that intelligence is a plot device in RWBY. If they want Ironwood forced to spill his secrets, he’ll randomly start talking about them in front of his enemies. If they want Ironwood painted as the villain, the group will randomly be incapable of realizing that maybe, just maybe, something went wrong on the home front and you’re needed there.

Things just get so much worse from then on. The group splits with JNR going off to find Oscar and, admittedly, I was shocked we got that at all. I mean yeah, it’s setup for the final reveal at the end of the episode, but the fact that anyone remembered Oscar was missing---let alone happily went off to find him---was still a surprise. So only Team RWBY heads back to Ironwood’s office where they find him (rightfully) panicking over the queen on his desk. Weiss tries to baby him, acting like he’s freaking out over nothing, when all these characters should recall precisely what Ironwood himself points out: the last time we saw this symbol it was a message that Beacon had fallen. He’s not paranoid here. He’s entirely justified in his panic. Ironwood likewise points out that they may have been duped into bringing thousands of people into Atlas as easy targets and Vine agrees, setting up that the Ace Ops are on Team Ironwood throughout the course of this conversation. Not out of blind loyalty, but because he’s right. That is a concern. That may be the plan. We do need to try and do something about that. Team RWBY, however, isn’t convinced.

That is, until Ruby realizes that the chess piece is made of black glass. Which means Cinder left it. Normally I’d congratulate her on that deduction---it is the one smart move we see Ruby pull this whole episode---but I just hate what follows. Namely that Ruby and Ruby alone controls her team’s opinions on a situation. Again. We saw it back in the snow, then again when Blake announced in the elevator that they’d do whatever she wanted. Team RWBY is the one who blindly follows their leader, not the Ace Ops, the only exception being Blake and Yang going rogue in regards to Robyn, but we see that hive-mind mindset here again. Ironwood brings up a good point? Nothing. Ace Ops support that point with more logic? Nothing. Ruby supports it? Oh, suddenly Weiss and Blake are taking this seriously. Suddenly Yang is fired up and ready to do whatever is necessary. Ruby controls the room. It’s only when she’s on board that her teammates decide this is worth getting riled up about.

Which, as I’ve said before, is a horrible way to write a diverse group. Especially when the writing is trying to paint the Ace Ops as mindless soldiers. For all their claims that they just have to follow orders, they’re the only ones parsing through this situation and coming to their own conclusions. It’s just that their conclusions do end up aligning with Ironwood’s which is the “bad” take in this scene. Team RWBY, however, waits until their leader makes a decision and then simply rides her cloak tails. The day that Blake, Yang, or Weiss legitimately disagree with Ruby---not a token “Are you sure we should keep secrets from Ironwood? We’re not actually challenging this. Just checking in”---is the day the writing will disagree with her. AKA, no time soon.

Blake tries to give some bland reassurance about them all being with Ironwood to which he responds, “Are you with me? How did Robyn know about the global communications tower?” Thank you! Thank you for giving us Ironwood’s characterization back and acknowledging that he has no reason to buy their generic ‘Got your back’ statements when everything they’ve done this volume has proven otherwise. They don’t support Ironwood, only themselves and their own teams. The minute he does something they don’t like he’s chucked under the bus. Too bad the writing doesn’t acknowledge any of this and instead continually paints the group as being justified in their decisions. It’s that hypocrisy again. When the group yells at Ozpin for keeping secrets we’re supposed to be on their side. When the Ace Ops yell at the group for keeping secrets we’re... still supposed to be on their side.

Weiss tries to diffuse the situation with “None of this matters right now!” which is real rich when they were just complaining about Ironwood not telling them why they were called back. They get to worry over that, but Ironwood isn’t allowed to worry about them outright betraying him? “Loyalty always matters!” he shouts back and he’s right. Why should Ironwood trust them to have his back in this crucial moment when they’ve never had it before? I’m already seeing more of this hypocrisy among the fandom. When Ozpin kept secrets and told lies the group was given a whole volume to be pissed about that and fans still, to this very day, insist that it hasn’t been enough time for them to get over it, to regain even a portion of that trust. But now that Ironwood has been lied to and betrayed in the same manner? People are annoyed that he’s not just shrugging it off. How dare you not get over in thirty seconds what our heroes got weeks to work through. His inability to just suck it up, as it were, is used to make him seem irrational here. I don’t see anyone, characters or fans alike, acknowledging that his anger is as righteous as the group’s was out in the snow. That there is the disconnect.

Of course, something has to break the tension. Drawn by all the fury and fear, a grimm pops out of Watts’ bag. A fail-safe for if he was defeated and captured. Salem immediately takes control of the grimm and kills it, using its form to appear before them. She reveals that it doesn’t matter that her men were captured. They were just there to “set the stage,” which they’ve done. Still doesn’t explain the random Penny side plot to my mind (seriously, why did the story bother to resurrect her when she has done nothing plot-wise or emotionally?), but whatever. Much more importantly, the stage is set for Salem herself. She’s approaching with the grimm army we saw her amassing which is... iffy.

First off, why? Why after a thousand years has she suddenly changed her MO from keeping to the sidelines to a full-on attack? Again, what’s the catalyst for that massive change? We don’t know. Meanwhile, from a writing perspective, I’m hesitant about having our Big Bad thrown into the mix before the finale. We know there are plenty of volumes left in this series, which automatically undermines any battle they might have with Salem. Will they win?? Of course not! Because RWBY isn’t over yet. Granted, this could all just be a ruse of some sort. Maybe Salem just wants them to think she’s approaching with an army, which would be much more up her alley in terms of long-distance manipulation. But if not... seriously, what’s the point of that?

Here’s hoping it’s a bluff.

Speaking of manipulation, we get a fantastically creepy moment where Salem tells Ironwood to “simply accept the futility of your situation” while smiling like a kind mother. That’s the Salem who is truly dangerous. Ironwood reaffirms that he won’t give up the relics and Ruby pips up with, “We don’t have to kill you to stop you.”

Hey wait. I’m gonna give you all another graphic.

This is Ozpin’s stance! This is his plan! His version of hope! We spent all of Volume Six having the cast beat on him for, “Omg Salem is immortal?!” and with the exception of Nora’s comment, no discussion of this in Volume Seven... but now suddenly Ruby is making this announcement? The group came to this revelation sometime off screen which we a) don’t get to see and b) once again created no scenario in the form of, “Wow! Ozpin was right all along! Maybe we should go talk to him...”

I’m just... wow. The number of times the writing takes what the group and the adults do, the exact same perspectives and decisions, and twists it so that the group comes out looking like heroes and the adults look like misguided, unhinged fools who need to be put in their place... I’m really over it at this point. And by extension the group themselves. Their characterizations have been so badly mangled at this point I legitimately don’t like them as people. I don’t care if they say they want to protect Mantle, or if they say they’ll support Ironwood, or if they say they’re unsure about their choices. All their actions claim otherwise.

Rather than grappling with the huge revelation that the group is apparently no longer obsessed with Salem’s immortality (or rather that Ruby isn’t. The rest of the group doesn’t actually matter. As established, they sync up with her beliefs the second she announces them), we return to Summer Rose. Salem goes, “Your mother said those words to me” and Ruby... loses it? What? I would have been 100% on board with this if we’d gotten it last Volume because then we saw Ruby losing her cool periodically. The smashed alcohol bottles. Chucking her scroll. Screaming at Qrow. That was all building to something. But then we had a year and roughly twelve episodes of normality. Ruby jumps into her fight with Cordovin and has been fine ever since. Hell, she’s been bubbly and confident, goofing off with Penny in one episode, then giving strong orders to her team in another. The one time we see her falter was in her conversation with Qrow and he reassured her completely that she was both doing the right thing and in no way comparable to Ozpin. Now, suddenly, one line from Salem and Ruby collapses? Full on incapacitated? I could buy the crying while still standing strong, I could buy a collapse if we’d kept her characterization going from Volume Six, but this kind of reaction in this context just felt so extreme. Doesn’t help that I really wasn’t sold on the voice acting here. Those cries sound less like devastated sobs and more like weird hiccups. Not to rag on Lindsay. On the whole I think she does a really excellent job as Ruby, it’s just this particular moment didn’t read right to me. I didn’t feel Ruby’s supposed grief here.

So that was... a lot for one line from Salem in a volume of otherwise confident and cool-headed Ruby. We also don’t see it amounting to anything, as per usual with RWBY’s writing. Ruby isn’t out of commission for the rest of the conversation or anything. She pops right back up after a second in Yang’s lap, just as confident and go-getting as before. There was no lead up to this and there are no consequences for the breakdown. Rooster Teeth honestly seems to think they can just chuck random things into the story---Ruby needs to show emotion at some point!---and then just leave it at that, entirely disconnected from everything else around it. Would we have known that Ruby just had her first breakdown of the series a minute later while once again betraying Ironwood? Nope.

Finally, this scene shows us again that the Argus battle was a bunch of nonsense. Ruby’s eyes nearly activate when she’s grieving for her mother, imagining---or perhaps seeing via Salem?---a sad Summer, not a smiling one. Just like her eyes activated while seeing Pyrrha die. Just like they activated when Blake was nearly killed by the Apathy. They activate now while thinking about her mother’s death. The montage of happy moments in lieu of the sad ones not working last volume was entirely out of place.

Salem finally leaves. Now everyone is panicking about this army. Elm points out that they’ll know if anything approaches. Vine checks and realizes that Watts took out their perimeter. Either that or Salem has already destroyed everyone and everything out there. It’s impossible to know. During all this Blake asks if the Amity tower is actually finished and we get more nonsense about how Ironwood is evil for telling a lie, but the group is always justified in telling theirs. The writing really tried to compare Ironwood telling Mantle---who I guarantee 100% does not care about whether a communications tower is finished while they’re getting attacked by grimm---a lie to lure out one of their biggest threats to Blake and Yang going behind Ironwood’s back to tell a potentially non-trustworthy outlaw about said tower, risking that the information would fall into the wrong hands and doom the project before it could be completed either way. Those are not in any way comparable situations, yet the writing really has Weiss going, “General Ironwood?” in a ‘How could you betray us like that?’ tone while Yang continues to look pissed.

And as if they didn’t know! How is this a personal betrayal? They were all helping to build that tower. Surely they’d know it it was that close to being done. Again, critical thinking skills, people. Anyone with two brain cells and their insider information should have looked at Ironwood’s announcement and gone, “Oh, that must be a bluff. Just a few days ago we were arguing about whether to continue taking resources from Mantle. No way is Amity ready. He’s going after Watts. Who is indeed the much bigger threat. Considering that he has control over the entirety of our technology and there’s literally no downside to telling Mantle about a finished tower when they’re getting devoured by grimm.” This is another, “But lying is wrong!” in the face of “But lying kept us alive...?” 

Does everyone get what I’m saying here? How RWBY takes these situations and tries to paint them in an absolutely ridiculous light, expecting the audience to blindly accept this perspective despite everything else they’ve seen for themselves? Like, two episodes ago? I swear I’ve never encountered writing that treats its audience this badly. Scene after scene relies heavily on the viewer having no ability to think for themselves. Just accept that Ironwood is a horrible person for lying about the tower even though there are no repercussions for that and we JUST watched him defeating Watts as a result. Like, five minutes ago. That just happened. In this episode. 

Ironwood then drops the bomb that Winter has gone off to claim the Maiden power. Interesting development. I wonder what that means exactly. Is she just going to lock herself away until the Maiden dies naturally? Do they have her on some sort of life support and is there an agreement to pull the plug if necessary? Are they going to use a machine similar to the one Pyrrha was in and try to force the change early? Or is this just a misleading comment and Winter is merely off to protect the Maiden, no intention of taking the power now? Who knows. We’ll have to wait until next episode to find out.

Ironwood likewise announces that the staff and the lamp need to be locked away now that they’re compromised, even though they’ve been compromised since they first saw Tyrian in Mantle. Insert another [this scenario is so stupid and contrived] explanation here. It’s made worse by Ruby’s childish “You said we could keep it.” Excuse me? What, did you think the lamp was your personal property now forever and always? Is Ruby really sitting there arguing that something Ironwood told her weeks ago trumps the obvious logic of putting the relic where it’s somewhere safe? That’s the characterization we’re going for, a leader who cares more about, ‘But you said we could have it!’ over the fate of the world? What even is this? The fact that Ironwood has to explain to them that the situation has changed just reinforces the group’s overall attitude. That is, one of arrogance and importance. They literally need to be told why putting the relic in a nearly impenetrable vault is better than letting them have it just because they want it. Plus, you know, they lied about the lamp from the start. So there’s that too.

Finally, Ironwood reveals that Amity was originally a plan of Ozpin’s but he didn’t push it far enough. Instead, he intends to use the staff to lift all of Atlas instead, hopefully taking two relics and a Maiden far out of Salem’s reach. Ruby wants to use the tower for its designed purpose instead, which is only a valid option in her mind because the writing was stupid last week. If there had actually been any logic there---if people had been allowed to react naturally and in a variety of ways to the Salem announcement, rather than a super convenient “Yeah! Let’s all work together!” across an entire, panicking city---she wouldn’t be quite so eager to tell the whole world. But we all know at this point that logic bends to the protagonists’ whims, so Ruby wants that same perfect ending across all of Remnant. She stands her ground, as does her team. Obviously.

Meanwhile, the Ace Ops aren’t just following Ironwood’s orders like the writing wants us to think via Harriet’s earlier comment. Rather, they’re each thinking through the situation for themselves and making very good points. If Salem has taken out our perimeter than we know our tech and people don’t stand a chance against this army. We just finished up the fight in Mantle and none of us are in a position to start another. Notably, Harriet brings this up, the one whose aura took a massive hit while nearly getting crushed underfoot. Vine points out that sometimes you have to lose a battle to win the war, but Team RWBY, to be blunt, simply doesn’t care.

I’ll be blunt myself here too: I don’t have an easy solution to this particular scenario. I don’t know what the “right” or the “wrong” choice is. Weighing starting a fight with VERY high stakes you’ll lose against abandoning the people of Mantle is just a straight up horrific decision. Like so much of what Ozpin faced, there is no clear-cut, good answer here. Do you stand by the people and risk the world, or work to save the world and doom the people? I don’t know and I do commend Rooster Teeth for writing a difficult choice... just not in giving each side the weight it deserves. Because as said, we’re meant to root for Team RWBY, always. Theirs is presented as the “right” choice every time, despite the fact that, as established, this is far from a black and white decision.

What frustrates me the most is when faced with all of these logical and very important considerations (we might not have backup, we’re in no position to fight, if Salem gets the relics and another Maiden the world is screwed) the group won’t even acknowledge these things. They’re so set in their own perspective they won’t even give these HUGE concerns the time of day. Rather, Yang shoots back, “You can’t just back down from a fight!”

That’s it. That’s the group’s problem in a single line.

This is what got Pyrrha killed.

It’s something the group should remember. She also insisted on fighting when she should have retreated and, since this was back during the days when characters actually faced consequences for their actions, it cost Pyrrha her life. Granted, going after Cinder was a truly useless endeavor. Pyrrha achieved nothing with her sacrifice. Here, Team RWBY hopes to save the people of Mantle, adding a clear justification for their insistence on fighting... but this is nevertheless indicative of that larger “punch it until it stops moving” mindset. It’s not that they decide to fight instead of retreating that’s the problem, it’s that to their mind fighting is the only option. Ever. This is what led to them attacking Cordovin and destroying Argus’ mech, drawing a massive grimm in the process. When faced with the option of backing down, Team RWBY doesn’t consider that an option at all. Which is heroic when up against an actual enemy, far less so when you’re facing an ally and the choice to fight has serious repercussions attached to it. Hell, the group doesn’t even consider compromises. They could have easily acknowledged that collecting the relics, the Maiden, and getting the staff to work on Atlas will take time. You do that while we focus on evacuating the rest of Mantle to the city. But no, even the concept of a compromise simply isn’t possible. You just always fight. Straight up. Anyone who suggests anything less isn’t a true huntsmen. “We’re loyal to the people!” Ruby shouts, as if “the people” doesn’t also include the rest of the world that Ironwood is trying to save and that they’re endangering by keeping the relics and Maiden within Salem’s reach. 

That is one messed up perspective to tout in a story infused with the complex and the morally gray.

The real kicker though? Ruby’s ‘My way or the highway’ attitude obliterates a solution that fell straight into her lap. Jaune calls and says straight out that they have another situation. If Ruby had listened to her teammate for just three seconds they all would have learned about Oscar, thereby undermining Ironwood’s plan. He can’t keep the lamp safe if he doesn’t know where it is. You look for it while, again, we evacuate Mantle. Then we take everything out of Salem’s reach. Win-win. Instead, Ruby blasts her way through the situation. Literally, dodging Ironwood and hiding behind his desk shouting a highly bias version of his plan in the hopes of getting everyone on her side. And it works. 

Because those like Clover don’t get to hear any of that context. Like how the perimeter is gone, there’s an army potentially coming, no one is in a position to fight, we’ve already lost a relic... they just here a Ruby’s version of events that paints Ironwood as the callous man Robyn thought he was---oh my god he’s abandoning Mantle for no good reason!---and people will react accordingly. Ruby likewise doesn’t care that shouting such information over all channels does things like, say, clue Tyrian into their plan. She just wants to do things her way, right now. Pausing to think (because thinking isn’t fighting) simply doesn’t happen.

I used to adore Ruby as a hero. Someone who was intrinsically good, hopeful, and wickedly clever in her ability to come out on top. Now she’s stubborn, arrogant, at times cruel, and charges in headfirst like her sister, refusing to consider any perspective other than her own. And her team endlessly supports that. The writing endlessly supports that. This isn’t our hero working through her flaws, but rather a flawed character that the writing refuses to acknowledge is flawed. When Ruby flies behind Ironwood’s desk the music rises triumphantly, just like it did when she attacked Cordovin’s mech. When Ironwood announces that they’re under arrest, Ruby spits back, “We won’t just let you take us” and we’re supposed to cheer.

Which brings us back to the question of whether the group really faced consequences here. Let me give you all a random, non-RWBY example of two scenes. Scenario One:

Parent: You punched her?

Teen: She insulted me!

Parent: I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you were justified in attacking her.

Teen: Oh, I was.

Parent: Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t, but you can’t solve all your problems that way.

Teen: I... I know that, okay. Back off. I just get so angry...

Parent: I know. We’re going to work on that. You’re grounded this weekend. We can discuss this more then.

Teen: [sighs] Fine.

vs. Scenario Two:

Parent: You punched her?

Teen: She insulted me!

Parent: I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you were justified in attacking her.

Teen: Oh, I was.

Parent: Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t, but you can’t solve all your problems that way.

Teen: Screw you! It worked didn’t it? I think a good punch goes a long way.

Parent: That’s not... okay look. You’re grounded this weekend so---

Teen: Like hell I am. [Proceeds to run off]

Teen: [Later to friend] ---and then she tried to ground me? Can you believe that?

Friend: Holy shit what an asshole.

If we put aside my own iffy dialogue for the moment, Scenario One acknowledges the complexity of the situation while likewise pointing out that the teen didn’t handle herself well. RWBY has achieved that here: the ethics of this scenario are acknowledged as complicated, but the group did things they shouldn’t have, as evidence by Ironwood’s anger and the Ace Ops’ criticism. However, Scenario One goes on to let the teen acknowledge that mistake, thereby validating it in the first place. A consequence is set, grounding, and they accept that, thereby further validating that their behavior needs work. They accept the consequence because both they and the writing acknowledge that the consequence is deserved. It takes what was previously two subjective stances---they say I’m wrong, I say I’m right---and encourages the audience to find the middle ground. Neither was totally wrong or right. The teen might be justified in some respects, but still made mistakes in others. She needs to improve. 

RWBY, however, steers firmly into Scenario Two wherein the teen (Team RWBY) insists points blank that they never made mistakes in the first place, thereby encouraging the audience to question whether Ironwood and the Ace Ops (the parent) is right to be calling them out at all. We see no humility or guilt, only confidence. Ruby shouting “No!” at Cordovin when she’s told to surrender. Yang keeping silent after admitting that she and Blake told Robyn, not bothering to apologize or admit that this might have been a breech of trust. They challenge the validity of the claim that mistakes were made and by virtue of being protagonists encourage the audience to challenge it too. Finally, we see them reject the consequence because they will not admit that it’s deserved. The teen will not accept a grounding. Ruby: “We won’t just let you take us.” We’re then told by others that this rejection was warranted. The friend reinforces the view that the teen was right to run because that punishment is undeserved. The message is, “You never did anything wrong in the first place.” The plot of RWBY likewise reinforces the view that resisting Cordovin’s arrest was right by having her randomly let the group go. The consequence is replaced with a reward and, presumably, we’ll have a similar situation wherein the group either defeats the Ace Ops or is released by them. The consequences never take hold because the writing doesn’t think there should be consequences in the first place. Team RWBY isn’t going to be arrested here. They’re certainly not acknowledging that on some level they deserve to be. We didn’t see that humility while they were cuffed on the airship---that most basic acknowledgement of, “Did we make some mistakes? Could we have done something better? Is Ironwood right to be this mad?”---and there’s none of it now here, either. The tone is pure, “How dare you try and arrest us? We’re the good guys here!” 

This remains as pro-protagonist as it has been the last two volumes. There are no consequences, only another hurdle for the group to overcome, painted as heroes for doing so. It’s Team RWBY vs. The Ace Ops and there’s no confusion about who we’re supposed to be rooting for. The Ace Ops because the group should rightly be stopped from hindering Ironwood’s attempts to keep the relics and a Maiden out of Salem’s hands, for their own lies and secret keeping that endangered them all this volume? Nope. It’s Team RWBY as the presumed heroes, facing off against soldiers who (supposedly) prioritize orders over what’s “right.” 

And yeah, Oscar is gone. There are a number of dismantled robots and blaster fire in the room where Neo presumably took him. So unless they do a flashback we don’t get to see if/how Ozpin reacted to this initial attack. I hope they do provide a flashback because otherwise that’s another crucial scene of Oscar’s that happened off screen...

Can’t wait to see what else we’ll end up with next week! Until then, 💜

[taco-taco-belle]

, A crack in the ice Chapter 1

Authors notes

This is my first ever writing piece, I hope you guys enjoy it! As some of you know I am visually impaired, which means I do not read print like a lot of you do, Because of this there will probably be a lot of punctuation errors and I am really sorry about it. I tried my best to remember everything about how print works, and hope you can still enjoy the story! My messages and ask box are always open if any of you want to pop in, and notify me about punctuation mistakes and words that were spelled wrong in my writing, or just to say hi!💜

Summary

Ever since the battle of Hogwarts, and the defeat of you know who along with his death eaters, The Wizarding World has been at peace. Wizards and witches feel secure, and don’t expect any nasty surprises or uprisings in the near future. So what happens when alliances against them form in the most unlikely places, And a new struggle for power begins? Well, the newest generation at Hogwarts is about to find out!

Lucie gave a cat like stretch, and tossed her quill onto the table in front of her. She squinted down at her watch, it was a quarter to midnight, and they had to meet the others in 15 minutes. Lucie Felt the nervous excitement, that always came when she was about to do something she knew she wasn’t supposed to be doing, mixed with exhaustion. It had taken much longer than previously anticipated, to finish her potions essay on the draft of a ternal sleep. Matthew seated beside her wasn’t even halfway through his own essay he kept sneaking glances at Lucie’s when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. Christopher was seated in his favorite arm chair by the fire, immersed in one of his well thumbed notebooks.

Christopher usually did not join Lucie, And Matthew when they did school work together, In the Ravenclaw common room. This wasn’t because he didn’t enjoy spending time with his friends, Christopher was very intelligent, and had an amazing memory. this meant that he excelled in all of their classes, and finished assignments incredibly quickly. instead of using his ample amount of free time to socialize with his friends, he spent it on his research. He was fascinated in the ways that everything magical, and non-magical function. None of his friends ever got annoyed at Christopher for this, they knew it was what he enjoyed doing. If it made her cousin happy then Lucie was satisfied.

Lucie scanned the common room. Ravenclaws despite their reputation of put togetherness, And Great organizers were a very untidy bunch. Scraps of parchment, with half thought out calculations, and ideas scribbled on them, Lay strewn across tables, and chairs. Broken quills lay beside chocolate frog wrappers, and empty ink bottles. The mess looked even worse contrasted against the common rooms elegantly arched ceiling covered in constellations, And spotless white bookshelves. She wasn’t judging her fellow comrades housekeeping however, Lucie was making sure everyone else had gone up to bed.

Matthew gave her a teasing grinn, which Lucie ignored. They both knew that the last Ravenclaws, A group of giggling fifth year girls had made their way upstairs, A half an hour ago. Despite this, Lucie had been nervously glancing over her shoulder, every five minutes. The sick feeling at the pit of her stomach had been increasing, as the night wore on. Lucie suffered from terrible nerves, every time they snuck out of Ravenclaw Tower, ever since she was 12 years old. In fact, she suspected they had only intensified throughout the years. Matthew treated the situation as he treated everything else, not very seriously.

He always tried to reassure her, By pointing out the fact, that if they hadn’t gotten caught by now, they probably never would. In response to this, Lucie would always remind him that she was the head girl of Ravenclaw, And Matthew was both there Quidditch team captain, and the Minister of Magic‘s youngest son! So they couldn’t afford, to rely on probably. She would suffer through her nerves, however to be able to spend a few hours spending time with her beloved friends, each week.

“Luce shouldn’t we get going?” Matthew inquired, looking over at her. She nodded, neatly rolling up her essay, and stuffing it inside her school bag along with her quill, And ink bottle. Matthew looked down at his essay, and side dramatically. “I guess I shall have to bring this accursed piece of paper along!” Lucy gave Matthew a questioning look. Shall?, but all she said was “I am sure you can get Daisy to help you.” He made a face at her, and she grinned. They both knew, that he would prefer to work with James, or Thomas. Cordelia was one of Lucie’s favorite people in the world, but even she could admit that Daisy could be a little intimidating at times.

Though Cordelia could be withdrawn at times, she always gave off a quiet aura of confidence and authority. Lucie doubted that her best friend, was even aware of this aspect of her personality. She knew with certainty though, that they played a big role in Cordelia being Quidditch captain, And head girl of Gryffindor house. Whenever Daisy helped Math with his homework, she watched him intently the entire time to make sure he was focused, and didn’t put up with his dramatics. Jamie on the other hand, usually ended up getting into trouble with Matthew, or just doing most of the assignment for him. They were best friends as close as Lucie and Cordelia, and had been best friends before even coming to Hogwarts.

Matthew gave her one of his best winning smiles “ come on Luce help someone in need.” She Scoffed “ oh don’t try that on me Math. I have been immune to your charms since you tried to eat Christopher’s pet ladybug Mr. spots on a dare from my brother when we were eight.” He frowned “ not One of my finest moments. It’s a good thing father stopped me, I’ve heard ladybugs are positively ghastly for one’s complexion!” Lucie wasn’t even going to bother asking, where Matthew had gotten said information. “ Matthew no matter how many times you refer to my father as yours it will not make it true.“ and I still haven’t gotten over Mr. spots you know.” Christopher said quietly from the fire. Lucie laughed, You never knew when Christopher was listening and when he wasn’t. Sometimes she would recount a long story to him, or an explanation of something, before realizing that he wasn’t paying attention in the slightest. Christopher wasn’t rude he was just, as his older sister Anna put it off in his own world.

Matthew gave them both Hurt looks “ no respect even from my closest friends!” “ you’ll get respect from me when you finish your essay.” She said, Pointing to the piece of paper on the table in front of him. “ you’ll never get it from me.” Christopher said matter-of-factly, Turning a page of his notebook. Matthew waved his wand, and sent all of his possessions including the much hated essay flying into his bag, in an unorderly jumble.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart, Matthew was as intelligent as all of his fellow Ravenclaw’s. He would just rather do the spells, and potions they were assigned. Then in his words “ wasting hours of my life shut up in Ravenclaw Tower, up to my ears in books, and essays depriving the world of my many talents!” His friends also knew, though he would never admit it that Matthew struggled sometimes under the expectations set for him. His mother Charlotte was the minister of magic, and his older brother Charles had been head boy of Ravenclaw house. Everyone was always watching him, waiting to see if he would be another success of the family, Or a screwup that they were secretly ashamed about. The professors, even treated him differently than the rest of the class sometimes. This caused Matthew to say rude things in class, and act out sometimes. Lucie, And her brother never stayed mad at him for long because of it though, they knew he was just constantly under a lot of stress. Matthew was at his best when he was with his friends.

He looked over at her his dark green eyes reflecting the fire light, as if he knew she had been thinking about him. “ ready to go?“ yep.” She replied, standing up and crossing the dark blue carpeted floor to Christopher, as Matthew bent to retrieve their brooms from their hiding place beneath the table. Beside Matthews chair Oscar wined. Oscar Wilde, was Matthews much adored golden retriever. He had been a present from James, back in their fourth year, for Matthews birthday. Oscar hated it every time they left him at night, he was incredibly loyal to Matthew and his friends. Whenever they were in the common room he would follow Matthew wherever he went. Matthew spoiled Oscar to no end, and loved his dog as much as Oscar loved him. They even bared a resemblance to each other, With the same shaggy golden hair, and green eyes, though Oscars were much lighter than Matthews.

She gave Christopher a gentle tap on his shoulder “ Time to go Kit.” In the space of about a minute, her cousin had slipped back into his own world. He blinked his dark blue eyes up at her, from behind his gold rimmed spectacles. They were the same as Lucie’s father, and aunt Cecily’s. Though their other cousins, Thomas, Barbara, and Eugenia did not share them. he blinked “ is it? Odd how quickly time passes, we were just talking about my poor ladybug Mr. spots.” He glared over at Matthew, who was stroking Oscar’s floppy ears. His own, and Lucie’s brooms on the floor beside them. She didn’t bother telling Christopher that it had only been a minute or so, instead she went to the window, and slid it open. Freezing night air streamed into the room, causing the fire to sputter wildly in it’s grate. Lucie was glad for the cold air, she leaned out the window taking in big lung fulls of it. Enjoying how it helped clear her nerves, and wake her up.

Matthew tide their bags to the back of her broom, with a practiced hand. As Oscar Wilde sat looking up at him with a disgruntled expression. Christopher gave Matthews broom a look that matched Oscars, he despised flying he was the only member of their group that was not on there house quidditch team. He didn’t even own a broom, Christopher said he would prefer to keep his feet on the ground at all times. He usually rode on the back of Matthews broom, and Lucie carried her own, and Matthews school bags on the back of hers. There was usually no need to bring Christophers, since he almost always had all his work complete. Sometimes Lucie would leave some of her work to the last minute on purpose. So she could work on it with Cordelia. Even though they had had this routine in place since their second year at Hogwarts, Christopher still hadn’t adjusted to it.

Matthew and Christopher joined her at the window, as Oscar slunk over dejectedly, to a spot by the fire, no doubt to wait for their return a few hours later. Matthew handed Lucie her broom, it was a bit awkward with the two bags tied to the end of it but, they managed to get it out the window, where it floated there like an odd bird. Matthew performed in over the top bow, and held his hand out for her to take “ my lady your chariot awaits. Lucie rolled her eyes at him, but took his outstretched hand. Usually in the winter months they needed to help each other clamber out of the window, since the sill was usually slick with ice. She climbed up onto the cold slippery stones. The sharp edges of them bit into her knees through her robes. Wincing Lucie began to slide off the ledge, and Matthews warm fingers still clutched tightly in hers, into the still dark Night below.

I really hope you guys liked this! if you could please like, And reblog, And don’t be shy you can leave a note telling me what you liked, and didn’t like about this first chapter. I will try to post the next one as soon as I possibly can, although I don’t know when that will be. I promise the next one will be a lot more interesting, I just needed to put a lot of set up in this first one. I hope you guys are all staying safe and healthy!❤️

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 3

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Warnings: Cursing and Drinking

Word Count: About 3,000

A/N: This story is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome. Tag list is open, please send me an ask.

Internal thoughts are in italics.

Read chapter 2 here

Another week on set had passed as quickly as the last. There weren’t any late night meetings with either leading man, which was fine by you. Sure, you had worked with both actors throughout the week, but mostly on set, or a quick drop by in your office.

Since set life was pretty busy, your social life was suffering quite a bit. You hadn’t seen Joanna since the weekend before you started with the studio and she was pretty pissed.

“I work for fucking Sony, Y/N, and I make time for your ass,” she said flatly in the phone.

“Well, you like my ass. I mean, it’s pretty nice if I do say so myself.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” she added.

“Mhm.”

“Anyway…I’m picking you up in an hour.”

“Jooo,” you whined. “Sleeping in my bed sounds better. I just want to be lazy and watch a movie.”

“Too bad. I haven’t seen my best friend in weeks and we need to catch up. Besides, I have news for you.”

“Alright, you’ve piqued my interest. See you soon loser.”

Crawling out of bed and shimming out of your sweats, you dragged yourself into the bathroom to take a shower. Joanna’s idea of getting together usually involved alcohol, so you at least needed to look presentable.

Slipping on a cotton white dress with navy stripes and a pair of short brown boots, you called it good. The dress was comfortable and cute without much effort. You kept your makeup light, not only because you were feeling lazy, even after a long shower, but also because you were short on time. Running a quick hand through your hair a couple of times, your phone was buzzing with text messages.

Jo: I’m here!!!!

You let out a chuckle at her enthusiasm and tossed your phone in your bag.

 Joanna parked her SUV on the side of a street that was lined with boutique shops. It definitely wasn’t your normal area to drink or even shop, but who were you to argue? With work being as busy as it was and not to mention being the new girl, you had been pretty distant as of late.

“I just want to pop into this shop really quick, then we’ll grab some tea afterwards,” Joanna said.

Tea?

The two of you enter a cozy shop that you didn’t catch the name of as it was etched in the glass with curly letters. Your tired mind couldn’t decipher quite what it said. Inside is cozy whites, pinks, blues, and yellows. Your mind finally catches up when you see a row of baby strollers.

We’re in a baby store?

Joanna floats around the shop, squeezing stuffed animals, burp clothes, and blankets. Pretty much everything with texture. You follow behind her like a puppy, wondering why she needs to pick up something here. She eventually stops her searching at a table full of onesies. She picks up two, one in each hand. They are both white in color, but one has a giraffe on it while the other has a bunny.

“Okay. What gives?” you ask.

Still holding the onesies in both hands, she looks at you with wide eyes. “What?” she asks playfully.

Her eyes give her away and you can tell she’s messing with you. Raising your eyes brows in return, you cross your arms and pop a hip out.

“I probably shouldn’t say anything because it’s really early, but you’re my best friend and I need to tell someone.” She pauses for a moment and again your tired mind is just not following. “I’m pregnant!” she squeals. She drops the onesies on the table and shakes her hands in the air.

You stare at her contemplating what she just said. Pregnant. The word sounds funny in your mouth.

“Oh my god. You’re pregnant? You’re pregnant!”

She chuckles at your enthusiasm as you start to jump up and down. You pull her into a hug and then pull back slightly, not wanting to hurt her.

“You can’t break me,” she said.

“Shush,” you say, and pull her back in your arms. “Guess I’ll need to find new friends to drink with.”

Joanna smacks you on the butt. “Someone needs to drink with Ian.”

 Filming was on schedule which was surprising. Generally, a film of this size would be behind, especially early in the shooting schedule. Granted, this was the largest project you had been a part of. Credit was due to the awesome director. He was amazing at communication with everyone including you. He often asked for your notes between scenes and sought out both Monica’s and your opinions. Both Chris and Keanu were amazing, often getting the scene with one to two takes. There were only seven more shooting days before a week and a half break, then off to the cold of Vancouver.

 Your cellphone buzzed with a text, but that was nothing new between Monica, David, and the writing staff calling or texting all the time. Pushing away your laptop, you picked up the phone from your desk and leaned back in your chair.

Unknown number: Chocolate chip or peanut butter

“What?” you mumbled to yourself.

Y/N: Who is this?

Before you can even set your phone down, it buzzes again.

Unknow number: Just answer the question

“Who the fuck is this?” Apparently talking to yourself was your new thing.

Y/N: I need context here mysterious one.

Y/N: Ice cream, cookies, protein bars?

Unknown number: Cookies, obviously. This is serious.

You sighed and decided to play along with the dealer of sweet treats.

Y/N: Chocolate chip of course. But if frosted sugar cookies come into play, that wins.

Your phone rang not a second later with the unknown number.

“Hello?” you said.

“Sugar cookies?! Y/N, come on. No. Just no.”

“Who is this?”

“Chris,” he said.

“Chris...?”

“Seriously?” he questions. “Evans.”

“Oh fuck. Sorry. I’m sorry Chris.”

“You should be. Sugar cookies,” he scoffed. “Come on!”

You let out a giggle. “I like what I like.”

“So, chocolate chip?” he questions.

“Yeah. What are you up to anyway?”

I’m stealing a box from Craft Services,” he says it like it’s something he always does. Like it’s just normal to call you up and ask what you like.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Next question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’d you get my number?”

“I asked Monica. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

This was something you had to get used to apparently. Chris Evans has your number and you now have his too. Not that you would call him.

You hummed in response.

“See you soon,” he said before disconnecting the call.

Chris is coming to your office. No big deal, he’s been here before, on your first day and one other time. This is fine. You can be normal.

You straightened up your small office. There wasn’t much to clean. Mr. Fern was thriving, although you’d have to find a babysitter for him when you were in Canada. You had no pictures or artwork on your walls, but you did have a framed photo of your friend group sitting on your desk, along with a jar of pens in various colors and styles. There were three sizes of notepads, one in a beautiful rose tone with thick aged looking paper. The other two were lined like the type you would use in school. You were a minimalist at work, what could you say?

Twenty minutes later there’s a knock at your door.

“It’s open,” you shout, just loud enough for the person to hear.

You knew Chris would be coming by, so you had time to mentally prepare, but he still makes you a little nervous. The man is attractive and he’s so personable. You’re nervous with Keanu too, but he’s so much more serious. When the two of you do chat, which isn’t a lot, it’s about national issues, who’s your favorite poet, have you tried this or that brand of green label coffee? Okay, that last one is pretty low key, but still.

 “I bring peace and good tidings, but most importantly cookies.” Huge grin on his face.

In his hand, wrapped in a napkin, are three chocolate chip cookies. His hand is outstretched for you to take the cookies, but you don’t. Eyes looking from his hand to his face and back again.

“This isn’t a box of cookies. I expected a box of cookies.” You shake your head for added effect. “And not even a frosted sugar cookie insight.”

“Sugar cookie,” he says with such disgust. “Y/N. I brought you chocolate. You should be thanking me!”

The smart ass in you, despite the newness with him, can’t help but come out.

“You can leave them there,” you say pointing to a free space on your desk. Eyes fixed on your laptop, not bothering him a glance.

He huffs out a laugh and plops himself down on the extra stationary chair next to your desk. He sets the cookies down, but picks one back up and takes a large bite out of it.

You swivel in your chair to face him and roll your eyes. “Aren’t those mine?”

“You complained.” He shrugs his shoulders taking a second bite.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to your laptop.

“This is new,” he said.

Sparing him a glance, he’s picked up your framed five by seven group shot. It’s from last New Year’s Eve. Jemma had just moved into a new apartment, free of her roommate from hell as she liked to call her. You all brought booze and she invited a few guys she knew and some ladies from her work. It was a good time and you ended up crashing in her bathroom. It wasn’t the best night’s sleep you’ve had.

“Yeah, those are my best friends.” A smile appears on your face.

He smiles and nods his head, eyes scanning over the faces. “Who’s who?” He angles the photo so that you both can see.

“Well, this here, with her lips attached to my cheek, is my very best friend Joanna.” You let out a giggle and he grins. “Next to her is her husband Ian. The gorgeous blonde is Jemma. And that’s Travis.” You rush through the last one, remembering you told Chris your fiancé’s name was Travis. Maybe he forgot. Hopefully.

“Travis? As in your fiancé Travis?”

“Mhm.” Tight smile on your face.

Moving the picture closer to his face, he hums. “Good looking guy.”

“Yeah, he is,” you reply.

“Looks kind of young though.”

Really? He is, but why bring that up?

“Are you calling me old?” you scoff, fake agitation in your voice.

“What?! Of course not. You make a lovely couple. Really,” he pleads. A sincere smile on his face.

You quirk your mouth to the side and sputter out a laugh. “I’m just fucking with you.”

Quickly covering your mouth with your hand. Can you say fuck to him? It’s so unprofessional.

“Me and my mouth. Sorry,” you say, cringing slightly.

He erupts in a deep belly laugh, head thrown back, eyes closed.

“Oh, my fucking god. You can say fuck all you want around me,” he says through bouts of laughter.

You let out a breath and relax.

“That was hilarious,” he sighs, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah. Real funny,” you reply. “But yes, Travis is a little bit younger than me.”

He holds up his hands defensively. “I promise I’m not calling you a cougar; he just seems young.”

Truthfully, Travis did seem younger than he was. He was the serious film student, but on weekends, he was the eternal frat boy. Even now, seven years later he’s pushing thirty, but you wouldn’t know it.

The next few days brought other unrequested sweet treats to your office. Chris no longer asked what you would like, instead he’d show up with something he thought you’d like, or rather what he liked. One day it was a cheese danish, then caramel corn, and finally a monster bar, which turned out to be a Rice Krispies Treat with extra marshmallows and M&Ms. You started to skip lunch knowing you’d be eating something very unhealthy. The two of you would keep the conversation light, generally about music or movies. You wondered if he was this friendly with other members of the crew.  

 Washing your hair six times had done nothing. Jemma had promised the new color product she picked up was just temporary, but clearly that had not been true. You had been Jemma’s guinea pig since the day you met her on set of one of the first movies you had worked on. She was a hair stylist and anytime she received a new product, she was trying it out on you. This time it was a semi-permanent purple hair dye. She had assured you it was more semi than permanent, but after washing it too many times, it had only slightly faded. Your only saving grace is the dye was only on the underside of your hair rather than your whole head as Jemma had wanted to do.

Walking into work was a little nerve wracking for you. In the industry, there is a plethora of personalities and styles, so purple hair isn’t out of the ordinary, but it was quite the change for you. You wore your hair the same way every day. You dressed modestly and comfortably. Sneakers were the norm. You saved skinny jeans and cute dresses for your days off. Stepping out in purple hair was saying something.

A few wolf whistles from David and a couple of guys who worked in set design, you made it to your office relatively unscathed.

Today’s scene would have you working side by side with Monica. Most days you were both on set, but usually not for long. The two of you had met in her office most of the day yesterday going over today’s big love scene between Chris’ character William and Maggie’s character Sophia. Chris was a professional and the few scenes that you had watched Maggie in were great. The two of you had no doubt they finish strong, no pun intended. Except you were wrong.

“Cut!” Hugh, the director called.

It was the fourth take and everyone was starting to realize it just wasn’t working. There were no problems with the lines and the actors were both following the stage directions, but something just wasn’t right. The chemistry was just off.

“Y/N.” Hugh called, motioning you over to him. “You know this script better than anyone. What’s missing?”

You let out a long sigh. “It’s the two of them together. Don’t get me wrong, they work well together, but I’m not getting romantic tones from the two of them right now.”

Chris was watching you. His brow furrowed; arms crossed. Maggie was getting her hair touched up. Passionate hair took a lot of work.

“Will you go talk to him please?” he asked.

You nodded, clutching your script, you walked to him. Maggie was now occupied with makeup and Monica was currently speaking to her.

Chris uncrossed his arms and quirked one side of his mouth up. “It’s not working is it?”

“M’fraid not,” you replied.

He nudged his head to the left and took a few steps away from the rest of the crew. “What do you suggest?”

“Well, frankly, you just don’t look like you love her. You barely look like you like her.”

He shrugged his shoulders and gestured with his hand for you to continue.

You licked your lips and moved in closer to him. Lifting up your script, you tapped on a section of the scene. “When it says William looks into Sophia’s eyes passionately, you need to look at her like she’s the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life. Like if you didn’t have her right now, in this moment, you wouldn’t be able to breathe. And when it says he grabs her, don’t grab her by her shoulders.” You looked up from the page to see Chris watching you. “What?” you questioned.

He shook his head and smiled. “Don’t grab her by her shoulders?”

You could feel heat in your cheeks. You looked back down at the script because you had to look away. Him and those fucking eyes. Are these lashes even real?

“Yeah, that comes off more as angry passion, but that’s not what their love story is about. How about you try it with one hand cupping her cheek and one hand on the back of her head? But like, um. But maybe cup her cheek first and brush your thumb against it as well. And with your other hand, slowly slide it to her neck before the kiss.”

He nods his head again, his eyes downcast, thinking it over. “Like this?” he asks.

Suddenly, his hand is on your cheek and he’s staring in your eyes, thumb lightly brushing below your eye. His other hand softly touches the crook of your neck and he ever so softly brushes it to the back of your neck as he starts to lean in. Goosebumps erupt down your arms and you thank the gods you’re wearing a sweatshirt at this very moment so he can’t see it.

“Is this good?” The deep timbers of his voice making you swoon.

You nod slowly, not wanting him to remove his hands at that moment. “Um,” you lick your lips again. “Uh, ye-yeah. That’s exactly what I mean.”

He removes his hand and gives you a gentle closed lipped smile. “I think I got it.” He starts to turn around but then stops and turns back to you again. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “This is cute by the way.”

You give him a smirk and shake your head. “Go!” Crossing your arm, he salutes you with one hand.

Maybe you wouldn’t kill Jemma after all.

Tag list: @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob @patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @thefandomzoneisdangerous @linki-locks11 @mywinterwolf @ab-baybay @rda1989 @chrisevansforever-blog @southerngracela @chrisevansfanfic @zsuzstyina @peach-acid @grtchnrs @hista-girl @trynnabemultifandom @symonlyjen5 @mrsshiddleston @tfandtws @xxloki81xx @heyyouwiththeassbutt @denisemarieangelina @evanlys19 @cheeseburgersstuff @linki-locks11

[oookaline]

A response to this tweet:

https://twitter.com/LETMEVOL6/status/1318301718610923520?s=19

"ok. i’m bout to ask a question to the larries. yalls whole argument is that simon and modest are homophobic right? please explain to me how Harry got away with being such a strong advocate for the LGBTQ+ community while being in One Direction? Why was harry the only one dropping hints on his sexuality. if they were so dead set on pushing this heterosexual narrative onto the boys then how did Harry get away with the things that he did? harry was dropping hints at his attraction to males. no, not with over analyzed song lyrics. i mean dead ass saying it. I genuinely want to know because Harry‘s been out of the closet for years now .y’all claim that Louis is closete. Harry managed to get out of the “evil clutches of Simon Cowell“ what stopping Louis and doing the same? unless this whole Larry theory was a lie and y’all were bored like, can someone please tell me why that happened? if Harry is allowed to be so open about his sexuality what stopping louis? if Harry got away from Simon would stopping in Louis they all have the same opportunity Harry may be the richest member but Louis can’t be that far back so tell me how did Harry manage to get away and be so open about his attraction of males and louis didn’t? i genuinely don’t get that."

Harry has been refering to his partner as gender neutral since forever, its not something he dropped hints on.

Not only that you have to also consider the narratives management pushed upon each of them aswell: Ima try to do a brief summary on H and Lou only, as this is reffered to Larries.

Louis: Perfect Boyfriend, a stable girlfriend throughout the years, influencer pretty girlfriend, no background on her so no backlash, constant papwalks on them and the occasional 'theyre toguether' tweets. Literally what it would be normalized as a happy relationship.

Harry: Fuck Boy, dated a lot of people, womaniser, headlines every week linking him to a new person, kendall, Taylor, Caroline etc, all big names yet all stunts, papwalks, 18 months of dating or interaction then never talked about again, the boy to wisk you away to a magical night then leave you the next morning.

Now taking these both you can see they are very different narratives, thus enabling them for two very distinctive ways to hinting at their sexuality with us.

Louis due to stunt reasons had to make his love songs (or his songs overall) seem like they hint at a specific girl, eleanor. Building up on the narrative they've had over the years. So while he can't directly call out his 'perfect woman' in gender neutral pronouns like Harry does, he CAN on the other hand choose what he specifies her as: a good chef, long brown hair paired with a british accent.

Very specific things that very obviously link to Harry while making press and hets think its towards Eleanor.

That one interview which didn't air where Louis said he had a boyfriend...

But this is just verbal. Lyric whise Louis has been more open and smart then anyone I've ever listened to-

The lyrics directly paralleling gay relationship, the struggles, the fear of not being able to be with them... Everything that a Heterosexual reletionship would NEVER experience. A few examples:

→Alive - One Direction (Louis) MM

"My mama told me I should go and get some therapy"

"I asked the doctor, "can you find out what is wrong with me? I don't know why I wanna be with every girl I meet"

"I can't control it"

"She said, "hey, it's alright Does it make you feel alive?"

"We got to live before we get older. Do what we like, we got nothing to lose. Shake off the weight of the world from your shoulders. Oh, we got nothing to prove"

"Went to a party just after the doctor talked to me, I met a girl, I took her in up to the balcony, I whispered something in her ear that I just can't repeat, She said, "okay" but she was worried what her friends will think"

This whole song is about questioning you sexuality and realizing you like the same sex.

Read over the lyrics and change:

girl - boy

she/her - he/him

and you'll see what I mean

→End Of The Day (Louis and Liam) MITAM

"Love can be frightening for sure"

"All I know at the end of the day is you want what you want and you say what you say, And you'll follow your heart even though it'll break, Sometimes"

"All I know at the end of the day is love who you love, There ain't no other way, If there's something I've learnt from a million mistakes, You're the one that I want at the end of the day"

"The priest thinks it's the devil, My mum thinks it's the flu, But girl it's only you"

"When the sun goes I know that you and me and everything will be alright, And when the city's sleeping, you and I can stay awake and keep on dreaming"

this whole song (apart from that one "girl") is just a huge gay awakening. If you keep the girl its a wlw anthem then.

some more exaples from scattered songs:

"There's a moment when you finally realize, There's no way you can change the rolling tide" -Ready To Run

"There will always be the kind that criticize, But I know, yes I know we'll be alright" -Ready To Run

"Told myself I kind of liked her, But there was something missing in her eyes" -Home

"I was stumbling, looking in the dark , With an empty heart, But you say you feel the same"-Home

"Still high with a little feeling, I see the smile as it starts to creep in, It was there, I saw it in your eyes" -Home

"But I know you're only hiding, And I just wanna see you" -Through The Dark

"And I can see your head is held in shame, But I just wanna see you smile again" -Through The Dark

"And I will hold you closer, Hope your heart is strong enough" -Through the dark

"People say we shouldn't be together, We're too young to know about forever" -TDKAU

"They don't know about the things we do, They don't know about the "I love yous"-TDKAU

these are just some out of the many Louis wrote. You can see where I'm going with it now.

and im not even going to touch i to all the shading Louis did with his clothes, tattoos, actions etc...

Now, Harry 'got away' with those actions because of various reasons, but I wouldn't say that he got away, I'd call it more of a "You stop me from doing this we will get backlash for possible homophobia and then y'all lose money so suck it up fuckers we're going on a rainbow ride" which is true; Yes, Harry did always refer to his ideal partner in gender neutral forms, but during the rainbow direction project was when he really amped it up so he could always go with the casual "I'm just supporting my fans, there's no harm in that" when confronted about it, which includes him waving the flags around and all the other stuff.

But it also seems you all are forgetting about how along with all the Queer!Harry we got, we also got more and more headlines of Wom!Harry, more stunts and etc: 5 different official relationships (not counting Kendal twice, which would make 6) between late 2014-early 2016 ALSO NOT COUNTING RUMOURED GIRLFRIENDS which then would make the list go so much higher, Harry couldn't before and still can't hang out with WOMEN or else there will be rumours of them dating.

And this doesn't happen with Men :/ He can hang put with multiple men, and there probably will be barelly one and a half articles written about it -only by small outlets- which in comparison to when he is seen hanging our with a 'mysterious woman' we'll get hundreds of articles about it in a span of an hour.

So what I'm trying to say is that sadly he can still call his ideal partner a he and be seen kissing a guy that the media probably will focus on the chick on the background and write an article like "Harry Styles seen out with friends in LA and he seemed extra cozy with mysterious blonde".

But again, the same with Louis, he hints at us about his sexuality so much, be it us the only one who properly listens to him.

With his songs and the flags and the pins and everything.

Here's some of his lyrics from the Oned era:

"We were meant to be but a twist of fate, Made it so you had to walk away" -Happily

"I don't care what people say when we're together"-Happily

"I can't even think straight but I can tell, You were just with her"-JABOYL

"And nothing's ever easy, That's what they say"-JABOYL

"Pay attention, I hope that you listen 'cause I let my guard down, Right now I'm completely defenseless"-If I Could Fly

"I've got scars even though they can't always be seen, And pain gets hard, but now you're here and I don't feel a thing"-If I Could Fly

"One day you'll come into my world and say it all, You say we'll be together even when you're lost"-Something Great

"I want you here with me, Like how I pictured it, So I don't have to keep imagining"-Something Great

"The script was written and I could not change a thing, I want to rip it all to shreds and start again"-Something Great

"You're all I want, So much it's hurting"-Something Great

So yeah, its sad that you just alienated that one thing without having context nor looking at the bigger picture. If I missed anything please tell me. :]

sorry for the long post

(copied from my answer on twitter)

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, REY! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE HERMIT with the faceclaim of LUCY BOYNTON. History loves a revolutionary, and there’s no doubt in my mind that this sentiment will extend to Marceline. I could feel her desperation to be part of something bigger than herself -- maybe even larger than her father’s ambitions -- they practically leapt right off the page. I felt for her in her loss, ached for her in her need for revenge, empathized with the pain and appreciated her determination to change things for the better. The Hermit has the potential to be small-scale, but you’ve taken her far beyond that, and I cannot wait to see what Marceline does on the dashboard! 

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OOC

NAME: Rey PRONOUNS: She/Her AGE: 25+ TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST. Because I am currently working from home, I would say on a scale of 1 to 10, I am a 7. I try to log on at least once a day. ANYTHING ELSE?: Just how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood!

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: The Hermit NAME: Marceline Ash Pelagius FACECLAIM: 1. Lucy Boyton 2. Lindsey Morgan AGE: 22

DETAILS: I’ve chosen the Hermit because she reminds me so much of the French republican youths that got involved after the French Revolution (as most famously depicted in Les Misérables) and I’d love to dig into the historical parallels. Like Enjorlas, Marceline is born into wealth, but she sheds herself of this reputation and becomes a bleeding heart for the revolution.  (Also like Enjorlas, she’s a “charming young (wo)man who is also capable of being terrible.”)

Revolutions rarely begin with noble aims, even if the outcome might not suggest so. For Marceline, revolution begins with vengeance. Her attempts to get closer to the Fool and the guards of the city in order to avenge her father’s death opens her eyes to the social and political inequalities of the kingdom. What was once simply about revenge is now about so much more. She’s a woman who knows she wants to kill a king, but her reasons for deciding to do so only keep growing with time. Before long, she begins to assume her father’s radical political beliefs: tear down the monarchy and replace it with a republic. I find myself drawn to dedicated characters with unyielding drives - especially ones whose moral compass seems so set but will in actuality change at the shift of a tide in order justify their end goals.

Marceline is very much  a person to be reckoned with. Her fight becomes a fight against her own grief, her unknown magic and the monolith of monarchy. Each of these seem to be an immovable object, but she is the unstoppable force that beats against them. The Hermit tarot card can signify someone who is taking too much time for self reflection or too little. In the case of Marceline, she is someone who thinks she knows herself well enough to simply act; she is so set on her path that true self-reflection is something she doesn’t spend enough time on.

BACKGROUND:

You know this is not a rebellion, you know it’s a revolution.

You are born of a noble house, the only child, last of your name. Your mother is revered in court as the Keeper of Coins. She has a mind for finances and business, though you inherit the steel of her spine and the cut of her jib more than anything else. If you trace her lineage far back enough you’ll see that before nobility came piracy and maybe that’s why she’s always been so good with gold. She’s a smart woman with a sharp eye that upholds her family’s reputation by being someone that can sniff out a poor deal or a tampered book with ease. She’s never really sailed the seas, but you can see that she misses it. And thus, so do you. Most of your lullabies are sea shanties and you take your first steps along the banks of Tyr’s Tear. You cannot remember a time when you didn’t know how to swim. Your mother, for some hidden reason, knows how to fight and she is the one to teach you how to use a sword. ‘A cutlass’ she clarifies the first time you call it something else. ‘There’s language used correctly and then there’s language used beautifully.’

Meanwhile, your father is hopelessly bound to the land. More specifically, he is hopelessly bound to his books. He is an academic that is fortunate enough to be born into nobility. His father lived a long life as a trusted advisor to Octavius Valmont. A former educator at the Bard’s College, the birth of you brings about a new chapter to your father's life causing him to leave the college and spend most of his days in Tyrholm writing, reading, and discussing matters of political science. How he wooed your mother you’ll never know, but because of them you’ll never doubt what love is. If you had to guess though, your father enchanted your mother because no one used language more beautifully than him.

Your father has a secret though. When you are four years old, you learn that you’ve inherited it. The two of you are Inferi magi.

The fastest way to someone’s heart is through conspiracy and you and your father are bound by this secret you share. He’s spent his whole life hiding this, and he teaches you to do the same. You hate being anything other than outspoken, anything other than untruthful about what you think and who you are, and the only anchor is you know how much he hates it too. The two of you hold tight to something the world hates and work to make it a gift more than a curse. This is what connects you to your father. Inferi magic is destructive, but your father shows you that sometimes that is the way of life. He tells you about the pine-trees that depend on heat to crack open their seeds. He talks about entire forests that are born from the ash of forest fires. Sometimes, in order to make something stronger, you must burn it down; sometimes, in order to make something last forever, you must destroy it. You know the story of the wolves and the snakes, he’s told you it over and over again to lull you to sleep, but he tells you it again now. Political structures -  you are five so you say ‘what’ and he replaces the phrase ‘political structures’ with the words ‘Kingdoms, like Tyrholm’ and you say ‘oh, okay’ - Kingdoms, like Tyrholm, get better, continue surviving, by being torn down and rebuilt. Just like the wolves and the snakes.

‘Let me teach you little one, how revolutions begin.’ He tells you instead of bedtime stories.

Your father believes in revolution, in a way that is before his time. He wants to dismantle the monarchy and in its stead assemble a republic government. His political ideology stands stark amongst the beliefs of this world and you are young enough to be enraptured by the optimism of it. Your mother, far better at playing society’s game than your father is, tells him not to speak so loudly about such things when you are not in your home.

And it is a nice home. For all of your father’s gripes against King, it seems the current system has given you and your family everything you need. You have all the flourishes that come with wealth: a respectable reputation, a lavish upbringing, a thorough education. You’re a lady and the dresses and the etiquette and the social gatherings don’t let you forget it. In many ways you are like your father, you debate and you discuss and think deeply on things with little regard to how that reflects on your station in life. Your mother is the opposite. She teaches you how to lie and survive within the status quo.

You are ten when your father begins writing pamphlets - ‘purely educational,’ he defends - about what a republic is. At least once a month he meets with a handful of like-minded people who are interested in discussing such things and their conversations often go late into the night. They sit tucked away and hidden in the back of a low-lit tavern - and you know these things because you are wily enough to try and follow him one night. Your father catches you and drags you back to the manor by the scruff of your neck like some stray kitten. Your mother is furious - at the both of you.

You are sent to bed without any supper and your father sleeps in the library that evening.

So goes your life. You become your mother’s apprentice as the Keeper of Coins and she makes it worth your while by teaching you to spar in the evenings. Your footwork improves more quickly than your mathematics, but you’re not too bad at either. Your life as a lady blooms. More lessons, more competitions. You find love, a first love, so you don’t understand that there can be different kinds, and even sour kinds. All you’ve ever witnessed is the warmth between your parents, even in their bickering, and so the most naive parts of you believe this to be true of all love.

This routine is almost enough to make you forget about the plights of the kingdom and that you live in a gilded cage.

Your father gets bolder in his commitment to a radical political movement. You’re 15 when you start staying up late to help him proofread the pamphlet he writes. The two of you start taking camping trips to the Volkun Forest, so that you may discuss such things freely amongst the trees. Out here, if the wrong word slips out or if a little bit of magic pushes through your fingertips, there is no one to pass judgment. Out here is freedom.

You take these trips and your father returns, only to lock himself in his study for the next three days. Sometimes you’ll press your ear to the door when the house is quiet and hear nothing more than the quick and furious scratching of a quill across parchment. Not too long after there will be fresh sheets of radical ideas floating through the city.

When you are 17, the fabric of your world is ripped apart at the seams. Your father’s ideas are labeled as treason and the King’s Guard ambushes you in the middle of the Volkun forest. They run your father through with a broadsword more times than necessary to kill him and he is left in a bloody, bloody heap. You manage to survive by playing dead. It’s a decision you replay over and over and over again. The anger over it lingers for years. You should have leaped to your feet and fought, and instead - you chose a coward’s route.

You dig a grave for your father using only your hands and still, somehow, you manage the return home.

The rage in your mother’s eyes when you tell her complements your deep sorrow. She dries your tears and you dry hers, but both of you agree that no one else will see you cry. Your magic burns in you that night, so hot and unknown that you throw yourself into the river to temper the flames that lick your blood. Your lack of training has never been more apparent than now. At such times you’d ask your father what was happening to you and even if he told you that he didn’t know, the shared loneliness made it bearable. He is not here now, and you must weather this alone.

Your mother doesn’t speak for 13 days. At first you think she will never speak again, you have heard of those that die of heartbreak, but you soon realize that she is scheming.

“I know what we will do.” She says on the thirteenth day and you nearly drop the sword you are polishing.

A plan forms. Together, the two of you plot. How do you kill the men that struck down your father? How do you kill a king? It’s decided that you will join the guard. You abandon your engagement. Like that, you abandon your life. Your reputation is ruined and your mother barely scrapes by.

You move out of the familial manor, out of safety for your mother. She’ll still write you letters and you will still visit to sleep in your childhood bedroom, but the two of you agree to keep these instances to once in a blue moon. You move to Lowtown. You know that one of the men you want six-feet under is the Captain of the Guard.

When you first ask to enlist, they think you are pranking them, trying to pull the wool over their eyes because some noble has dared you. When you don’t leave though, that’s when they grow from disbelief to skepticism. ‘Why?’ You are asked. ‘Because I dream of a better world.’ Of course you’re met with laughter. You, however, refuse to lie. You stay steadfast in your plot. You wait for their amusement to die down before challenging the man nearest to you to a spar - if he wins you’ll leave and never bother them again.

That evening, you bring your cutlass and you win your way into the Guard.

After all is said and done you hear a stray spectating guard say to another, ‘She fights like a pirate.’

No one can stop you once you are a woman decided. You spend the next few years putting your head down and doing the work. You become the youngest lieutenant the Guard has ever seen. You are not intimidated by this, you swallow it easily with the knowledge that you are here with a higher calling. The truth has a tendency to make things harsh and unwelcoming, and yet it is the very thing that makes the men here listen to you. They look at you and see someone unwavering in their honesty, merciless with their virtue. It earns you a level of respect that most lieutenants spend their whole lives scrounging for. The world may not be fair, but you intend to make it so. That is seen and that is respected. They listen to you, but more importantly, they trust you. You make it clear that you’ll take an arrow for any of them, parry whatever blow comes their way. When a man is struck down in the field, you’re one of the first to volunteer to tell their family. They start letting you do this by default, your stoic demeanor and steady nature prove to be the exact temperament needed to weather a storm of their family’s sadness. Every time you do this - every time you confront a freshly widowed bride, a newly motherless son - you promise to take care of them. You won’t let their death be in vain, you say. You find yourself caring for all these families as much as you care for your mother. In this way your family grows, and it no longer feels like you are last of your name.

All of this goes without mention of the elephant in the room. Your job puts you in painful proximity to the Fool, one of the men that killed your father. However, these days it seems you’re on the same team in more ways than one. Together you lead the Guard, together you declare you’ll fight in the same revolution. You seek forgiveness within yourself, but your heart finds it hard to go back on a judgment once it has passed. You know that striking him down would be a poor move on your part tactically, that it would scatter the men, that it would lead to a different kind of revolt. You don’t want to tear your new household in two just. So you take his name to that list of names you intend to make your way through and shift it to the bottom. That night you begin a new list, one of additional grievances to call upon that specifically the Fool is responsible for and you decide that you will savor and remember these grievances when the day of his death finally comes.

You’re intense, you ache for revenge, you age for revolution. Those that would think less of you for the latter are nowhere nearby; they’re far off in some ivory tower. Those that surround you are bolstered by it. Each breath is spent on the growing rebellion, each action is dedicated to felling an empire and an unjust king. You are a flame that keeps your friends warm, you are a fire that chases your foes into action.

Living amongst the Guard has taken you out of luxury, out of a life of nobility, and placed you in the thick of a growing revolt. Each citizen of Lowtown comes with their own history, of a life earned through hard work and skill, and you realize that a monarchy is bullshit. Power to the people, you think.

It’s difficult to remember the girl who existed before your father died. But try and you remember. You’ve still got your family crest, it reminds you of the sea. A mutt wanders onto your path one patrol of the Volkun forest and you swear it looks part wolf. You take him in. Two weeks from now he’ll chase after a snake on your hunting trail and even you will say “Oh come on” at the heavy handed metaphor life has thrown your way. In these ways, the world continues to remind you of who you are.

And then, only on quiet lonely nights do you let your mind wander, galloping through the memories back to the day your father was butchered before you. You clawed your way back to the city, clawed your way back to your mother. You’ve defied death once and so hell nor heaven scares you anymore. Buried deep within all your noble intentions is an undeniable truth: you have your revolution, you have your decided aims for a republic, but you would put it all on the line, just to get back at the men who killed your father. You pray to the wolves and snakes you will become a better person.

You are not a revolter, you tell yourself, you are a revolutionary.  

PLOT IDEAS:

Marceline doesn’t believe in kings. As the revolution grows, there are plenty that want to replace this king with a new one. Who will take Septimus’ place? The Emperor, the Chariot, the World? None. Marceline thinks that’s just trading out one cage for another. As mentioned: down with the monarchy, up with a republic! Marceline believes in the ideals of a republic, the same ideals her father believed in, and she wants to work to stoke that fire in the same way he did. It might be a moment before she returns to distributing pamphlets or standing on soapboxes, but natural rights and equality for all citizens of Tyrholm is something that she is determined to fight for. She will try to convince every revolter she comes by of her radical ideas and even when they turn her away, she’ll find a way to stay. She’s always been a woman bad at understanding the word no. I’d like her to try and convince as many people as she can and I think this has the potential to be an interesting plot. Not everyone is going to agree with her and I’m sure it’ll cook up a new batch of allies and enemies. Her father wrote and distributed pamphlets against the king and in favor of a whole new political structure, and Marceline would like to get this radical political movement going again through these handouts. However, Marceline is not the same wordsmith her father was. She’ll do it, if she has to, but I would love for her to find that person to help her write a new round of Enlightenment principles with. In general though, Marceline will be at the forefront for a push for a republic. It’s an ideology that she’s willing to die for. In the long run maybe this even causes a schism in the revolution between those that want another king and those who want something else entirely. TEMPERANCE: Marceline breaks off the engagement, returns the ring that is given to her, leaves without a word. Marceline knows she loves the revolution more, but still her love for Temperance lingers. From where she’s standing, it seems as if her former fiancee has had no trouble moving on and so Marceline is doing her best to drown herself in work and other people. If she could pick one person to convert in favor of her ideal vision for the future, it would be her. But the more Marceline stays with the Guard, the more she sees that Temperance is blind to her own privilege. She wishes Temperance could see things her way. If Marceline ever had to pick between the revolution or Temperance, she would do her best to try and save both. Marceline has left the life of nobility behind, but I would love to see the life of nobility try and drag her back in through her undeniable love for this for this woman. THE FOOL: Until a new republic is built, Marceline still has to live in this monarchy, and there is plenty to do here. There’s her own vendetta, for Marceline will do anything that’s necessary to track down and kill the men that killed her father. Fool kills Dad. Hermit kills Fool. That easy, right? Wrong! Things are already messy as is because both she and the Fool are revolters and thus technically on the same side in more ways than one. Because of this, Marceline needs to find cleverer ways to retaliate against him. Their relationship is a complex one as she is always quick to undermine him, but still sees him as her co-partner in leading the Guard. For a girl who believes in keeping a judgement once it is passed, I want to push the boundaries of her decided vendetta. As she lies in wait, I imagine Marceline trying to be close to anyone that the Fool knows. I’d also love her feelings for him to grow and for her to have to wake up every morning and have to conscientiously decide that she wants to kill this man. I want the Fool to make her change as a person so that by the end of this she’s either consumed by hate for this man or consumed by love - no in between.   THE MOON: The Moon is possibly the only friend Marceline has outside of the Guard.  Every time Marceline ventures Volkun forest, she brings back something new for her botanist friend. There’s a comfort she feels with this one - one she hasn’t felt since her father was around. Something tells her it’s magic, but Marceline knows the dangers of asking about such things. Still, she will do everything to maintain a friendship with the Moon, as she is one of the few people around whom she is utterly at peace. I see them growing close because of the revolution, and I can see them growing even closer if they ever choose to tell each other about their magic. Ever since the death of her father, Marceline has completely turned away from the magical side of herself, but that does not mean the magical side of her does not exist. I see her magic being a grab bag of abilities that she has absolutely no control over. (And per admin discussion, I have some ideas on this.) She feels utterly lost, but Marceline does everything she can to avoid letting anyone know about this side of her. (She always tells the truth, except in this instance.) There’s probably less than a handful of people that know and while I would like this number to slowly grow, I imagine the Moon would be the first. Ultimately, I would like Marceline to come to terms with her magic and see how it influences her thoughts on the war and the revolution. Eventually she’s going to come to understand that her magic might be able to help her take down the king. She might even like to try and travel to Hypatos sometime to seek out mentors. Maybe this is somewhere she and the Moon journey together. Marceline is willing to train up anyone who wants to learn how to fight, be they part of the Guard or not. If you’re part of the revolution, or even if you take no particular side, she thinks you have a right to be able to defend yourself. Just expect to eventually get an earful about some radical political ideologies. Marceline hates pirates and bandits. She cannot stand either of them, especially when they terrorize her Guard. She wants to make a statement to show that the Guard won’t turn a blind eye to being messed with. She’s willing to offer both groups a shot at joining them against the king, but if they refuse, she won’t hesitate to go against them for the men they’ve harmed. In the meantime, any pirates or bandits should steer clear of her as she won’t go easy on them. Marceline sees every single guard as a member of her family and when a guard dies she makes a commitment to look out for that guard’s family. I don’t want this to be easy for her. I’d love to try and throw her up against her own moral compass while trying to stay true to a promise she’s made.

CHARACTER DEATH: Totally cool with you killing my character. My character’s dog however, needs to live forever.

WRITING SAMPLE

There are those that shared his beliefs that come knocking at their door to share their condolences. Marceline and her mother had vowed not to show their tears to the public so Marceline’s mother greets the guests with solemn eyes and a quiet nod of thanks. Marceline doesn’t even make it out of her room. Her father’s death is still too fresh, too heavy on her heart and it’s difficult to be confronted with the fact that someone the world keeps turning.

Marceline is coming up on three days without sleep. Her throat is sore, her eyes are raw, and they are both nothing compared to the dead thing in her chest. She tries to sleep, but etched onto the underside of her eyelids are the faces of four men that she will never forget. She knows grief is nonlinear, but she wishes it would leave for a while and return later when she feels a little stronger. Finally, utterly exhausted, her body gives up on her and she falls into a restless sleep.

There’s a full tangerine moon in the sky and Marceline wakes up in delirious pain. She finds herself on the floor, covers still tangled around her legs. She’s rolled off her own bed. She is still herself though - and that’s what matters. She can see through the haze of pain her hands, her fingernails, the bits of dirt underneath them.

What is this pain? It’s her magic, she thinks, or maybe it’s her grief. She’s buried this part of herself so often, that she forgets about it until it makes itself known. It pulses in her blood with such unpleasantness that she cries out for her father before remembering he is too far to hear her.

She doesn’t want to do any of this without him.

The pain licks up and down her spine. She can feel this Inferi magic coursing through her blood, taking her immense sadness and twisting it. This is in no ways normal, but each time she’s had to face it she’s always had her father.

Marceline kicks with trembling legs at the covers still wrapped like mummy bandages around her body. She crawls to the chair at her desk and grips at the chair leg with her sweaty hand. The wood begins to glow red - at least she thinks it does -  and she knows she is going to set it on fire if she doesn’t move it. She grabs higher, pulls herself up, grabs the curved back of the chair until her feet are flat against the wood floor.

Marceline takes a shaky step, then another, and then she stumbles with the inertia of pain out the door of her bedroom. She nearly collapses as soon as she reaches the bannister of the stair. Her torso hits the wood and the impact blows another wave of fire all through her, knees crippling - she catches herself before she hits the ground but the world spins around her.

She is going to die. She is going to die. She is going to die.

And whatever it is inside her is going to kill and destroy everything in this house. How did she ever think she was going to survive in this word three days without her father?

She must though, she must.

Another wave of pain throws her to the floor. She curls into herself; her sadness magnifies and triples tenfold. Like a wave it washes over her, and then recedes. Here, she will die here -

And then Marceline gets up.

Only this time, it is her magic rising from inside her. It surges through her, hardening the muscles in her legs. She slaps a bloody hand on the counter and straightens up. She breathes hard: in and out, in and out, in and out. As her eyes close, she hears - she swears - the steady beating of wings, as it reminds her swelling heart to keep beating.

She crunches her way out of the hallway, down the stairs, and then out into the garden where the moon hangs low. It is watching her, she feels it. Its light pours over her bloody form with every step she takes. At first she steps slowly, she eases her toes into the cool grass. But then faster, steps more steady, and then even faster, until she is running away from her family’s manor, towards the river, as though she could flee from her sadness.

But she is fleeing towards the moon.

Her magic gives her strength and gives her pain. It roars in her chest now, harmonizing with her grief. She hates it, she hates it so much, hates how it makes her hide, hates how it’s always been a mirror of her emotions.

She remembers her father and how he could look at a burning thing and see the growth that will come after. She’s never going to see him again and there are precisely four men to blame. She can’t stop her tears as she splashes to the banks of the river and falls to her knees inside the reflection of the full moon, which dances on the surface of the water. Her hands press into the sand. She fists the rocks and shells. She is probably going to die. And she should fight it still, but her magic is the only part of her father that is still left.

She doesn’t want him to be gone, and it’s the last thought she has before it feels like she goes up in flames.

Marceline falls forward into the river.

The next morning, she wakes to the sound of the water, as it kisses at her toes and her ankles. Slowly, Marceline blinks her eyes open to the sunlight appearing over the river. The pain is over. Her body felt peaceful and brand new. Three days of mourning and now - rebirth. She feels like she’s just shed her own exoskeleton. She’s done it all on her own too.

A raven picks at the hem of her blouse and forces her to sit up to shoo it away. Tyrholm is still here. She is still here. She breathes in like she needs to remember what it is like to have her lungs expand. Both her magic and her grief, she thinks, are strange, strange things.

EXTRA

A few extra headcanons: While growing up Marcline’s mother would temporarily stay in Noble quarters at Castle Tyrholm. Marceline and her father lived in the Pelagius manor in Hightown. After her husband’s death, Marceline’s mother moved out of the Noble quarters and returned to the manor. Her mother is still Keeper of Coin for the king. Marceline lives in Lowtown but makes sure to visit her mother in Hightown at least once a month. She writes letters often. One does not simply become the youngest lieutenant of the Guard without being a skilled swordsman. Thanks to her noble upbringing, she’s had access to top tier mentors and tutors. What Marceline lacks in size and sheer strength, she makes up in swiftness and cunning. In fact, Marceline’s noble upbringing has left her with a handful of random skills that she is never sure she will use again. She’ll spend most of her evenings these days in the Barracks playing cards or drinking with the Guard. They are her pack. Marceline is slowly starting to pick up where her father left off with his pamphlets. Marceline has a mutt that is probably part wolf... no one really knows. But his name is Little Wolf. He’s her hunting dog (and possibly her best friend.) He follows her around plenty while she is on patrol. He loves members of the Guard and hates the aristocracy.

A few stray musings: Look, I’m not saying she wants to inspire the French Revolution of this world. But... yes okay that’s exactly what she wants. Big Enjorlas from ‘Les Mis’ vibes. Mixed in with some Hamilton. There’s a touch of Isabella from Shakespeare’s ‘Measure for Measure’ thrown in there as well. “So men say that I’m intense or I’m insane.” Most likely to yell “Wake Up Sheeple!!” in the middle of a crowded ball. Bisexual AF.  

[project-ohagi]

Keiji Akaashi x Reader {Haikyuu!!}

The grace with which he had been blessed was astounding, even to his upperclassmen. You always searched for him in the onslaught during break and lunch, hoping against hope that he would gaze your way. His politeness and the blunt way he voiced his opinions were surely going to be your downfall; every time he opened his mouth, your heart began pounding in your chest, and all the blood in your system would surge to your ears and cheeks. The sound of blood swirling around your head almost drowned out your love's magnificent voice. Almost. Once, he caught you zoned-out, on cloud nine, and questioned the intensity of your blush. The handsome setter thought that perhaps you were ill and seeking medical attention. Afterwards, he seemed to make a routine of greeting you every morning, and on the off-chance you happened to meet in the hallways.

Although he never appeared too interested in physical contact, his friend was incredibly touchy-feely. It humoured you for a while, but gradually, the amusement was replaced with fury - that was your man, your gorgeous specimen, and no matter how close those two were, Bokuto was not getting Keiji. You dedicated an entire journal to learning and recording his habits, mannerisms, likes and dislikes, as well as any other helpful bits of information. You wanted to know everything.

Sitting behind him in class had its advantages, because he couldn't tell that you were writing about him, and from your angle, you could garner his mood from the movement of his upper body alone. You didn't need to be an expert at deciphering facial expressions. You were quickly becoming a master on the topic of Keiji Akaashi. Following him also worked in your favour - the way he stood (hands interlocked behind his back) was utterly adorable, so you started copying it. You would try out the things you knew he liked, and also considered joining the girls' volleyball team. However, that way there would be less chance of you seeing his matches up close.

You examined his character in more depth, exploring how he talked to, and acted around, his classmates and team mates. His closest confidante was indeed Bokuto, but you feared that striking up a conversation would lead to some weird places. He was such a loud, rambunctious individual, and you couldn't risk the exposure. Not when you were so near to completing your most daring, yet most exciting plan. It needed perfecting and executing, but that was now only a matter of days. Keiji was quiet, but certainly not shy. Heck, you weren't exactly sure he was capable of reading the mood, but all his little quirks combined to make him so incredibly endearing.

Your Romeo was far more special and charming than anyone else in your life, and you were prepared to go to some insane lengths to keep him caged. Ten foot tall iron bars, and an ivory roof would surely sedate him. He would look so handsome, so perfectly submissive, splayed out amongst your sheets. His hands would turn a hot white as he gripped them, trying to chain himself to reality. The poor thing wouldn't know what to do, lying and trembling beneath you. Nothing would be veiling his perfection from your eyes, so they could feast on what they saw, and it would satisfy them for life.

A sticky white liquid would dribble down his stomach, having been shot out a short while earlier, when your lips closed around his throbbing member, and sultry moans filled the room. Keiji's soft, haggard sounds would be music to your ears - a choir of angels, and your legs would further entrap him. Lining his member up with your aching hole, you would sheathe him inside, relishing in the sudden, pleasure-induced moan that escaped his lips. It would be throaty, in his lustful haze. Leaning forwards, you would forcefully press your lips together, coaxing his tongue out to play. At some point, he might gain control, turning the tide of dominance. Pinning you to the bed, perhaps he would will you to beg, to plead for his glorious sex. He might release you, or he could make you suffer. Maybe he would pull out, so that only the tip remained, or perhaps he would even deny your orgasm, as punishment for screwing with him. Would he do that?

Licking your lips, you imagined all the possibilities, ranging from soft sex to rough sex, to no sex at all. It was entirely plausible that, once he gained the upper hand, he would tie you against the bed, stranding you until morning, or whenever someone decided to walk in and found your naked, or semi-naked body, shaking from the cold, desiring nothing but Keiji Akaashi.

Then again, Fukurōdani would provide the best environment. Plus, it would be much easier to find and lure your prey in a place that he felt comfortable. You might be able to find a jump rope to tie his hands, and maybe the gymnasium's storeroom would be a good spot to launch an attack. However, first came the annoying part: removing Keiji's larger-than-life friend from the picture. You didn't really have to go to the extreme of killing him, but that was always a viable option. No, you could just get someone to help you take his attention off Keiji, and go home by himself. He was constantly hoarding your beloved, never letting you get too close. You could have even sworn he glared at you once, for attempting to limit the space between yourself and the setter. Regardless, he had to go, if only for a few hours.

You crossed your legs, well aware that you were growing too aroused, from your fantasies alone. The object of your (obsessive) affections tilted his head in concentration. You loved this, because it meant that he was working really hard. He was incredibly smart, but never boasted about his grades. You adored his humility. The temperature had risen significantly in the past few minutes, but you hadn't noticed, since you spaced out. However, the heat seemed to affect Keiji, as his blazer was draped gracefully over the back of his chair, and you could see the sweat rolling down his neck. In that moment, all remaining reason flooded out, and you had to stab your hand with a sharpened pencil, just to stop yourself from leaning in and lapping up the substance. Glancing at the clock, you realised that there were less than ten minutes left. You sighed in relief. Keiji's dark eyes flicked to the side, catching a glimpse of your flustered state. He would attest to being concerned. You were a classmate, after all.

He looked back towards the teacher, listening with one ear. The notes in his book were becoming more and more confusing - his focus was wavering, as he tried to disperse it between you and the lesson. He always appeared so cool, so collected, able to dish out the most brutally honest comments without batting an eye, but, a slight panic was building in his stomach. It twisted unnaturally, bringing him to the brink of nausea. Although, no-one would be able to tell, not even if they invaded his personal space, like Bokuto. The extraordinarily beautiful setter often noticed you staring, out of the corner of his eye, but he never said anything. You seemed quite timid, since you scarcely talked to anyone, so he didn't necessarily want to make you uncomfortable. However, while he thought that you kept your head down and got work done, you actually had a very different, very special reason for scribbling in your book, only sparing two or three glances towards the teacher.

Earlier, you had been in the process of writing out, and testing, various methods of torture/execution. You see, Keiji had a bad habit of being friendly around the girls at school. Well, he was an incredibly amiable person anyway, but, much like Aobajōsai's setter, he had a fanclub. They were absolutely obsessed with him.

Although, they could never love Keiji like you did.

Their president was a small-ish, brown-haired female, who compensated for her height by donning these ridiculous, strictly prohibited heels, which gave her a few more inches. She had a horrible, toxic sort of personality, and a smile that could wipe out an entire species. For her, you implemented a very special, very inhumane plan. One day, during lunch, you asked her (privately) about joining the Keiji Akaashi Fanclub. She was thrilled to have yet another member, and she entrusted you with all sorts of written documents, ready and waiting for your signature. The two of you had a clandestine meeting, because you wanted to 'show' her something. You shrugged off all her guesses. There was a spring in your step, and a happy giggle bubbling in your throat. In your bag, an iron contraption sat amongst your school supplies. After placing it (with much force) on her head, and twisting it violently, almost breaking the poor girl's jaw before the fun really started, you hauled her into the furnace.

She had been your first victim.

Proceeding her, were five more members of that detestable, and frankly annoying, club. When they were dealt with, you transitioned into Phase 2, which primarily involved the possible abduction, and definite enchantment, of your love: Keiji Akaashi. So now, you were in class, gazing dreamily at him, and wondering about your plan. It needed a touch more...flavour, so it would, unfortunately, have to wait. At least until tomorrow.

The bell rang, and freedom had never tasted so sweet. Thankfully, your chosen methods of extermination required minimal bloodshed, so nothing was visible on your clothes. Just as you packed away your items, and got out of your chair, a mildly concerned-looking Keiji blocked your view of the door. You recognised a slight imbalance in his stance, indicating that something was troubling him.

"(L/n)-san." He addressed, nonchalantly.

Your response was almost too quick. "Yes, Kei-Akaashi-kun?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Did you need me for something? You're always staring. It can be confusing."

"Ah..." You guessed he stopped himself from saying 'annoying'. "I can tell you tomorrow, maybe?" You muttered, attempting to stall for time.

Shaking his head, he spoke, "Please tell me now."

This was happening far too suddenly, yet you weren't about to let this opportunity slide. "Um...well, I could tell you on the way back? We go the same way, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, we do. Let's go then." His fingers brushed past yours, causing your skin to prickle.

Right, cool. Just keep this momentum, and everything will go smoothly.

While walking, you spotted him fumbling with his fingers - something he did quite frequently. It wasn't really a sign of anxiety, but you found it adorable. His gunmetal blue eyes were fixated on the road ahead, and his lips had long since been sealed. You desperately needed to take action, otherwise, if your actual strategy did not work, you would completely fail. You couldn't let him go home, but it would seem really strange if you asked him to join you for a cup of tea, or something to that effect. Whilst you were pondering this dilemma, droplets of water dripped down on to your hair and clothes, thoroughly wetting both of you. Since your house was close, and you lived alone, this was the perfect opportunity to invite him inside. Silently, you thanked whatever god was out there, listening to your prayers.

The two of you hurried inside, grabbing some towels and shaking yourselves off. Your (e/c) eyes glimpsed his shirt, now transparent due to exposure to the rain. Gulping, you averted your gaze, attempting not to grow too aroused. Keiji looked around, seeing nothing he didn't expect. Your hallway was pretty barren, to be honest, because everything of personal value was compiled in your room. That is to say, you had lots of...helpful tools.

"Thank you. I figured it might rain, so I gave my umbrella to Bokuto-san." He nodded politely.

Sighing, you stated, "You do so much for him."

"He's our captain. If he loses his cheerful nature, he won't be as good in practise." He clarified, not seeming to understand why you suddenly sounded quite out-of-sorts.

I need some love too, y'know?

You smiled. "I get that. Sorry, I wasn't trying to offend you."

He followed your lead, walking slowly behind you. "It's alright. I should have brought another umbrella, so you didn't get wet."

"It was inevitable."

I'm always wet when you're around, Keiji.

"I apologise anyway." He bowed, halting his movements.

You stopped outside your bedroom door. "Then, how about you make it up to me?"