#the wig is still bad but at least its better than that one before. and finally we got to see some of his real magic of manipulation

[beaulesbian]

Rings of Power 2.06 || Where is He?

└ "Did you not hear that? Outside. Sounded like a siege alarm."

(+ bonus: when the manipulation was successful)

[humbledragon669]

S1E4 – Saturday Morning Funtime Write Up P3 - Saturday (The last day of the World) from "You're better off without him." to "You bad angels!"

As upsetting as it is to not have a photo banner for this chunk of the episode write up, I’m going to launch straight in. The timeline for this episode gets important here, so let me just refresh your memory:

So at the point in the episode where we see Crowley preparing to ambush Hell’s minions, the streetside argument has already happened. Aziraphale has also been attacked by archangels and he has tried to talk to God about the whole situation, but we as the audience are not aware of these two events at this point in the episode. Got it? Because I still can’t get that all straight in my head, I really have no idea why I have such a mental block about it.

Harping back to something I mentioned in the previous part of this episode write up, Crowley looks pretty purposeful during this scene. He’s not gathering his things, he’s not desperately looking for a location to run to. He knows exactly what his plan of action entails. I honestly don’t think he has any intention of running anywhere if he has to do it without Aziraphale – now he’s all about surviving as long as he can, and causing as much damage as he can in the process.

Side note: credit to the set design guys, who gave Crowley a doorbell in the shape of a snake. Pretty sure I need to get one of those for my own front door now.

Also gotta love the costume department, having Hastur’s wig thrown on top of his frog/toad in the most careless way imaginable. Goes to show how much he cares about whether any humans notice anything weird about him by this point.

I don’t know why, but I find Hastur’s reaction to Ligur’s demise snort-laughingly funny. It gets me every. Single. Time. Maybe because it’s just so over the top. Maybe I’m just a bit twisted. Maybe a bit of both. Probably like almost everyone else in this fandom to be fair. I’m not going to feel too bad about it, he seems to gather himself pretty quickly afterwards. And hey, you remember all the stuff I highlighted about the noise that we hear when Crowley or Aziraphale do a miracle? Well we’re about to be introduced to the noise that happens when Hastur does one.

You can ignore the little “ow” at the end of the clip, that’s just Crowley. It’s the noise just before that – the weird “flexing” noise with a bell. It’s very different to the noise we hear for miracles from Aziraphale and Crowley. I don’t think it will come to be as important as the noise associated with our hero pair, but it’s worth noting that it is fundamentally different. It does make me wonder why the miracle noise for Crowley isn’t closer to the one for Hastur. Perhaps it’s to do with intent rather than the caster’s nature.

I think I’ve seen this discussed before, but did we all notice how Aziraphale assumed that when the call connected he was actually talking to Crowley? He doesn’t wait to see if the answerphone kicks in, or if Crowley offers a greeting. I suspect it’s because he has never actually had to talk and listen to the answerphone before because Crowley answers every single time he calls. Which at the very least implies that Aziraphale always knows exactly where Crowley is, but further suggests that as a general rule, Crowley is with the angel whenever he isn’t in his apartment. Food for thought.

This phone call and its placement in the episode contrasted with its placement in the chronology is one of the reasons why I get so confused about the timeline. Aziraphale’s tone when the call is answered is a far cry from the terrified bleating of his hurtful rejection on the street corner, which is the last time that he spoke to Crowley. It’s only when you take into consideration that he has actually been threatened by archangels and told that the war is going ahead regardless that the phone call starts to make sense. At this point he tells Crowley that he knows where the Antichrist is – something he swore that he wouldn’t do less than 24 hours prior. What’s interesting about this about-turn is that he doesn’t really have any new information at this point – it’s his take on the situation that’s changed. He’s (finally) realised that the only way they can fix the situation is together.

I *think* Crowley’s stroke of genius bullshitting speech is the first time we are given some insight into the hierarchy of Hell – he calls Hastur a “Duke of Hell”. Crowley has previously been referred as “the demon Crowley” when named specifically by other Hell residents, so despite his very casual greeting in the first episode (“Hi guys”), this would suggest that he is below Hastur in the organisational food chain of Downstairs.

Clearly the people conducting the theological debate into how many angels can dance on the head of a pin became very frustrated with this ridiculous question, because the research notes become more and more incredulous. The one on the far right is my personal favourite:

Side note: the line is “angels don’t dance”. Not can’t or won’t. Got that? Stash it away somewhere so we can pull it, and the information about Aziraphale being the exception to the rule, back out when we get to the ball in season 2.

I have to say, the amount of work that has gone into the sequence of footage coming up blows me away slightly. The photography effect applied to the footage of the dancing men, the honky-tonk orchestration of the music, the underlying ticking sound of an old movie projector, the costumes, the choreography – it’s incredible how much attention to detail has been exercised to produce less than a minute of film. Did I mention all the work Michael Sheen’s face is putting in? It’s quite ridiculous.

I’m not sure I had come across the gavotte as a dance previous to watching Omens – it’s not exactly up there with the popular ones like the waltz or the tango, is it? Wikipedia describes it as a “lively peasants kissing dance”. Probably not all that surprising that Aziraphale took to this particular dance style when you have that piece of information, which is completely the opposite to how I feel about seeing Crowley (and Hastur and Ligur) doing a bit of carefree disco boogie (which he does to the same piece of music as Aziraphale’s gavotte but with a different musical setting). I actually didn’t even realise it was him until my 3rd rewatch.

Quick question about the journey through the phone system – why does Crowley count down to the exit? Surely that just tells Hastur what the plan is? His plan works regardless, it just strikes me as odd that he does it.

Poor old Hastur, the idea of being stuck in an endless loop of Aziraphale’s voice seems to have him quite frightened. He’s even lost his wig on his entry into the phone system. His final choice of word to use as an insult against Crowley is interesting though; I would have thought that calling the demon a snake was something of a compliment. Importantly, Crowley leaves the apartment with nothing more than his phone – Alpha Centauri definitely looking off the cards at this point.

Aaaaaand there it is. The little piece of the puzzle that we didn’t even know we were missing – a placard that tells us we were missing a window of time. So if we just refer back to my timeline from earlier, we’ve moved from step 8 backwards to step 3:

It looks like Aziraphale is nervous again – he’s wringing his hands in that distracted way that he does. And if he didn’t look troubled enough before the little gang of archangels show up, he certainly looks that way now. There are two things about this scene I want to point out, and the first has to do with the sound. As soon as we’re aware of the presence of other Heavenly beings (Michael’s greeting), all of the speech has some reverb applied to it and the background noise fades out. The result is that we feel like these characters have been isolated from everything around them, and given that nobody pays them any attention at all, I think it’s pretty obvious that that’s the intention. It’s a really clever little device, and once the (slightly menacing) music kicks in, it’s virtually unnoticeable. The second of the things I wanted to point out is that we see Aziraphale panicking in this scene. Not trying to hide something or divert attention, but actually panicking. He stammers, there are unexplained pauses in his speech, his eyes are wide, and he gestures a lot with his head (and later, his hands too). He even backs up when the other three advance on him. I think it will become, in later episodes, very important for us to be able to recognise what a panicking Aziraphale looks like, and this is it.

He has every reason to panic – he’s just been told that Heaven knows that he’s been meeting with someone from the other side. More than that, they describe his companion pretty accurately, and for the second time in a matter of minutes somebody describes the true nature of the relationship (according to my head canon anyway) between Aziraphale and Crowley, which, rather importantly, he makes no attempt to rebut. There’s a tiny beat where the realisation that Crowley is in trouble with Hell hits home and he looks as if he wants to ask Uriel for more detail but Michael moves on too quickly for him.

The fact that this seems like news to him at this point goes to show how little Aziraphale and Crowley actually listen to one another. Crowley has already told him that he’s in trouble with Hell, so this shouldn’t be new information for the angel. Quick side note: it turns out that the word Heaven choose to use for his interactions with Crowley is “consorting”, rather than “fraternising”.

Aziraphale makes an interesting point as he tries to argue his point about the role that he believes angels should play in their administration of Earthly affairs – that being human is fundamentally about having the ability to make choices. Which adversely implies that actually working for Heaven or Hell has the consequence of not being able to make choices at all. He may even be implying that without the human race, angels themselves have no purpose:

Our job, as angels, should be to keep all this working, so they can make choices.

It’s a direct contradiction between the desire for a war that will only result in the rendering of angels as beings futile. I think he’s onto something, but the archangels do not look moved in the slightest.

You can see the moment in Aziraphale’s waffling when he starts to think he’s got a handle on the situation because he stops stammering so much. Once you see it, it’s pretty glaringly obvious. These three thugs archangels aren’t about to let him think he’s getting control though, and we see the second instance of Aziraphale being slammed against a wall in the season. There is a pretty huge difference between this one and the one at Tadfield Manor though. Let’s just remind ourselves of Aziraphale’s facial expression when Crowley “threateningly” pinned him against a wall in episode 2:

And now when Uriel does it in an actual threatening way:

The second of those faces, the one that’s positioned a full foot away from the aggressor instead of an inch, is actually scared. And it doesn’t change the whole time he’s pinned against the wall. He even tries to tell Uriel that they shouldn’t be doing whatever it is they’re about to do to him – he’s genuinely frightened. I’d like to think the whole point of Uriel’s wall slam is really only to provide the audience with a point of reference for the audience to see Aziraphale’s scared face. I wittered on about it in the episode 2 write up a lot so I’m not going to bang on about it too much here, but Aziraphale’s reaction to Uriel’s real threat in this scene proves that Crowley’s wall slam was never a genuine threat – it was just a bit of sexy role play.

Aziraphale also tries to remember the archangels of their true nature during his frightened spluttering– that they’re “the good guys”. What I find particularly telling about the response he gets is that there’s no disputing or correcting of his assumptions, merely an assertion that he has been out of Heaven for too long, suggesting that Heavenly beings maybe don’t consider “goodness” as one of their defining characteristics anymore. Being called “ridiculous” must have been pretty hurtful for Aziraphale here too, seeing as that’s the word he and Crowley threw around between each other just the night before at the bandstand, and when this interaction (as Aziraphale chose to call it) is over, there’s a split second where we can see the fear and dawning realisation that he has lost this particular battle and is well on the way to losing the war. No pun intended.

And just to prove how pure of heart Aziraphale truly is, he can’t even call the archangels a nasty word. He really is the dearest thing, isn’t he? He’s just been threatened and punched in the stomach, been called ridiculous and had his relationship sneered at, and he can’t even manage to throw an expletive at them as they vanish. It’s probably a good thing Crowley wasn’t around to see the whole thing, otherwise I think he would be torn between protective-boyfriend mode and just pointing and laughing at the angel.

Side note: remember all the background noise that faded away when Michael and their cronies showed up? It fades back in immediately as soon as they leave the scene, although it’s very difficult to hear as we have musical soundtrack that continues underneath Aziraphale’s parting blow.

Seeing as we’re about to leave London and return to Tadfield for a short while, I feel like that’s a good place to wrap this part of the write up for this episode. As always, questions, comments, discussion, all welcome! See you next time 😊

[paintedscales]

WoLstinien Week 2024 :: Day 5 :: Time Apart

Thankfully, when it comes to Nomin and Estinien, time apart never really is as bad as it could be. Not when there are methods and ways to get letters or other things that help to let each other know that they are both thriving in their own, respective ways.

Word Count: 1,596

Lonely days and nights were not uncommon on the island sanctuary. Nomin often busied herself with getting more furniture built that could improve the cabin, or tending the gardens and creatures that she curated for herself since she had been left to her own devices. The experience was all quite relaxing as opposed to venturing elsewhere to combat any threats.

Quiet relaxation…

Nomin breathed out a sigh of relief as she buried the last seed in her personal garden. The soil beds were all filled with seeds not of the island itself. Each little plot was instead seeded with those that were gifted to her from Estinien. He had often brought back seeds  that he found in the markets for Nomin to take care of.

Getting up, Nomin traveled to a different side of her garden, looking down at the soil bed that had been seeded at least a couple moons ago at this point. A row of trellis had been erected alongside the seeds, and vines were now snaking their way up along them. Seeing how healthy and green it was all looking, a smile spread across Nomin’s lips.

Crouching, Nomin was just glad to see how everything was coming together. She was glad that she had mixed cinnamon and clove together to mix with the soil, because the grape vines were looking great aside from small chewed up leaves from vilekin that could fly and avoid the ground.

Bringing out a small phial, Nomin took her watering can and tapped a couple drops of the solution into the water. She then made sure to water the smile thoroughly before finally feeling finished with her garden chores.

When the telltale clamor of a mammet walking up the pathway reached her horns, Nomin walked over to the fence and peeked around. The mammet that acted as courier was approaching, its wig bouncing with each ambling step it took. A sealed letter was clutched in its hand, and Nomin opened the gate so that she could meet the mammet before it reached the cabin proper.

“A lEtTeR hAs CoMe iN fOr YoU.” The courier mammet paused, lifting the letter abruptly.

“Where from?” Nomin asked as she approached and took the letter.

“RaDz-At-HaN.”

“Ah… Thank you.” Nomin then waved off the mammoth, turning the envelope over and breaking the wax seal. Taking out the letter revealed handwriting she did not immediately recognize, but the signature at the bottom tipped her off. The letter had been written by Vrtra -- or rather, his simulacrum, Varshahn.

Skimming the contents that she could read, Nomin had some difficulty parsing the handwriting. It was far more fanciful writing than she was used to. However, the gist of it was clear: Vrtra wanted to let her know the state of Radz-at-Han and the efforts going toward rebuilding. There was also an apology for making extra use of Estinien’s time in Thavnair, keeping him away for an extended period than what may have been discussed between him and Nomin in the past.

Shaking her head with a small sigh, Nomin folded the letter and tucked it away. Nothing to have been done about that. Even she herself had been getting the mammets on the island to help with relief efforts by making things that could be transported toward those in need. It was better than trying to turn a profit for the time being at any rate. That would have felt like turning a blind eye toward everyone and everything that still needed aid.

There was much and more to have been done, certainly, but at least Nomin could have solace knowing that everything at this time was rooted in aiding one another and setting aside differences. Much as the notion made her feel like a hypocrite at times. After all, there was still much and more to be said about her feelings regarding the Jhungid and her past with them.

No matter…

Nomin headed into the cabin, taking her boots off before entering, and went to look for some ink and parchment. At the very least, she could send back a response. Maybe she could have even sent a small care package along with it. While she mulled over that, she did wonder how exactly Estinien was doing during his time back under Vrtra's employ.

A small smile found its way onto Nomin’s lips once she procured her writing supplies and took a seat at the dining table. All things considered, this era that was spreading itself across Etheirys was a welcome one.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Apply your body into the actions of wielding your lance. ‘Tis not just upper body strength alone that you need, but the ability to remain steady on foot.” Estinien stood close to a younger member of Vrtra’s Radiant Host, arms folded over his chest as he gave instruction. He recalled that in Coerthas, the art of the lance evolved from being something that was primarily done on chocoboback to needing to be practiced steadily for being on foot after the Calamity struck. Chocobos were less of an accessible beast of war since that had happened.

Hraesvelgr’s imparted information of dragoons fighting alongside dragons also hung in the back of Estinien’s mind. Surely, lancers at the sides of dragons must have been something. Alas, the only dragon that Thavnair had was the satrap himself.

Returning his mind to the lessons he had undergone, Estinien thought about how the Knights Dragoon mastered aspecting their aether to the winds so that they could assist in guiding their movements. It even allowed the miraculous jumps that would leave many people looking on in awe. It sure did when Estinien performed such techniques for the recruits of either the Temple Knights or the Radiant Host to watch and take note from.

A familiar presence pulled Estinien from his thoughts, and he looked over his shoulder. Walking his way was one of few simulacrums Vrtra used for himself that held the name ‘Varshahn.’ A bag was slung over his shoulder, and Estinien figured that it must have been supplies or goods for the Radiant Host.

“‘Tis unusual to see you out here,” Estinien said, foregoing a greeting.

“More unusual that we receive letters and goods for a particular dragoon who happens to find himself in Thavnair,” Varshahn replied in kind. There was a slight smirk upon the simulacrum’s face as he came to a halt not too far away from one of the nearby tents that served as a place of rest for any of the recruits who were done with training.

Estinien’s eyes narrowed momentarily.

“... If these letters and goods come from Aymeric, I request they be sent to my lodgings instead. I am not want for letters nor the potential bribery of returning to Ishgard,” Estinien said, looking back toward the Radiant Host he was overseeing that day.

“Ah, but they are from someone else,” Varshan replied. He walked further to meet with Estinien, shrugging the bag from his shoulder and handing it off. “I would not think you would wish to be kept from Nomin’s words and gifts. So I endeavored to get them to your hands as soon as they were received at the Meghaduta.”

Estinien’s attention went right back to Varshahn after learning who the sender was, and he dropped his arms to his sides. Taking up the bag, he glanced down at it and then replied, “I suppose she’s enjoying her time at the island Tataru got for her… No matter. My thanks for taking the time to make such a delivery.”

“Of course,” Varshahn said. His attention soon went to the Radiant Host. “I trust that everything has gone well otherwise?”

“I’ve no complaints.” Estinien walked over toward the shade of the tent, unclasping his gauntlets as he did so. “Your Radiant Host are ever eager to improve upon their technique. You may very well have your own set of Radiant Dragoon ere long.”

A chuckle escaped Varshahn. “Would that we would have need of dragoons in Thavnair. Were my sister, Ratatoskr still among us, perhaps she would wish to see dragon and man fight side by side once more and help aid those efforts. Here in Thavnair, however…it is just me and Azdaja. Spearmen who are capable are more than enough.”

“... Aye… With luck, Thavnair won’t have need of them.”

“Indeed…” Varshahn glanced over at Estinien. “It gladdens me that you have been looking out for my Radiant Host. I shall not keep you any longer. You are surely eager to read of Nomin’s writing.”

“A strong sentiment, but aye…” Estinien grimaced at the idea of sitting down to skim over the written word. But, having something of a physical item from Nomin was appreciated nevertheless.

“Then I shall leave you to it.”

Estinien watched as the small version of Varshahn began his journey back toward Radz-at-Han before opening the bag that had been given to him. New clothes had been provided, as had snack items of varying kinds. Eventually, Estinien reached in and pulled out the sealed envelope. Breaking the seal, he set to reading the letter that caught him up on what Nomin had been up to and the little drawings she included of some of the seeds she had planted thanks to him bringing them to her.

A small smirk found its way onto Estinien’s lips as he glanced over Nomin’s words. She kept things to the point, and had more sketches than paragraphs to share, thankfully.

All-in-all, Estinien was simply glad that Nomin was getting all this time for the rest and enjoyment she deserved.

[eddysocs]

Primo Porno (Henry Desmond x Kip Wilson x OC)

Summary: Kip brings home a dirty video and tries to get Dawn and Henry on board, but they have other plans.

Word Count: 1,019

Warnings: Soft smut, threesome, porn video mentions

Kip came bursting through the door of their shared apartment, brandishing a VHS tape. Still dressed as Buffy, his wig was askew, his dress falling off one shoulder, and his left shoe was practically falling off his foot. He was truly a piece of work looking like he was. He stood there panting for a moment, sweat forming at his brow, undoubtedly from racing up here.

"Calm down, Lassie. What is it, girl," Henry deadpanned, causing Dawn to laugh. Kip ripped off his wig with his free hand to cool himself off, and took a couple of extra seconds to catch his breath.

Kip didn’t even try to mock Henry for the lame joke, he was so excited. "I just got us some primo adult entertainment," Kip alluded. Both Henry and Dawn shifted their gaze from Kip to the tape in his hand, piecing it all together.

"You didn’t," Henry accused.

"Kip, isn’t that a little…seedy," Dawn questioned.

"Nah, I mean sure, some is in poor taste, but this is the good stuff. Wanna watch it?" He really was like a dog with a bone over this, and even under the circumstances, Henry found it all a bit amusing. Dawn, however, was a bit more skeptical.

"I assume that is why you bought it," Henry quipped as Kip put his wig in the closet. Kip then made a childish face, sticking his tongue out at Henry as he went over to put the tape in their brand new player. For better or worse, they decided to go along with him, at least for a while.

It started off tame enough. The acting wasn’t stellar, but after having watched a couple of B movies recently, they couldn’t fault it as being all that bad either. The girl was a tall redhead, busty with a small waist, absolute perfection for this kind of role, though personally, she didn’t do anything for Dawn nor Henry. Kip could get excited at a piece of paper if they drew a pair of boobs on it.

The male co-star wasn’t all that much to write home about either. He was fit enough, but too tan, and his oiled up body was unrealistic for coming over to fix a leaky pipe. Not that X-rated movies were meant to be realistic, but still. Trying to ignore what they deemed its obvious flaws, Henry and Dawn patiently awaited things to start heating up, and when they did, they were even less impressed than before. Kip was eating it all up, but Henry wasn’t really feeling it and Dawn had had enough. When it got really graphic, she left the room, locking herself in the bathroom.

Henry noticed her escape immediately. Kip, still engrossed in the tawdry film, had to be elbowed in the side before he realized that Dawn was no longer on the couch with them. "Where’d she go?"

"Bathroom. I really don’t think she’s as into this as you are, Kip."

"You are though, right?" Henry shrugged. It wasn’t like he was disgusted, but it wasn’t doing its job of turning him on either. He much preferred just being with the two of them, no outside stimulation needed.

Kip shut the movie off and went over to the bathroom door. "Dawn? Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," came the muffled response through the door.

"Come out and sit with us," Kip invited. "I turned it off." Kip heard the knob turn and Dawn stepped out. She walked back to the couch and plopped herself on the middle cushion next to Henry. Kip sat on her left.

"I’m sorry I wasn’t into it. It was okay for a while and then I just started comparing myself to that woman and thinking that’s what you wanted from me and I couldn’t take it anymore, Kip."

Kip was shocked. He hadn’t realized it would have that much of an impact on Dawn. "No, I’m sorry. I should have asked. You know I don’t want you any other way than the way you are."

"Neither of us do," Henry supplied. "And to be honest, it wasn’t doing much for me either. I like it when it’s just us."

"I do too," Kip confessed. "I just thought I could spice it up a little. Guess I was wrong."

Dawn shook her head. "You weren’t wrong to try and spice things up," she began.

"Only the way you went about it was wrong," Henry cut in, causing the three of them to laugh, lightening the heavy mood.

"All you really needed to do was ask us how we could spice it up. This…wasn’t it. And that’s okay."

"I’m actually kind of turned on by you still sitting here in that dress," Henry said.

Kip looked down at himself, having completely forgotten he was still wearing the bright pink frock. "You serious?"

"I like it too," Dawn added. "Maybe you can let us help you get the makeup off." To demonstrate what she meant, Dawn leaned over and kissed Kip, transferring some of the light pink gloss on his lips over to hers. Henry was next, taking another layer of pink away from Kip's mouth. And soon they weren’t thinking of the makeup anymore. Or the dirty movie. Just each other.

Clothes finally came off, piling up on the floor beneath them. Fingers trailed over bare skin, causing tickles and laughter, the three of them now fully enjoying one another, their previous worries forgotten. Their moans and sighs mixed together and the teasing never stopped.

Despite a couple awkward positions, they never left the couch when they made love this time, figuring it as good of a place as any in their small apartment. And they remained there after for a time, a mess of tangled limbs, skin pink and sheened with a fine layer of sweat. Dawn rested her head on one side of Kip's chest and Henry rested his on the other. Kip didn’t know what he’d been thinking. Nothing could have improved upon this. This was really primo, and no amount of porn could even come close.

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @borg-queer, @foxesandmagic, @connietheecunning, @chickensarentcheap

Dawn Martin: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @smutember

[adamwatchesmovies]

Australiens (2014)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

Australiens walks into the room like it’s about to be your new step daddy but it couldn’t be more wrong. The creativity started and stopped with its title. The rest is all downhill. I can forgive the horrible special effects but the jokes are horrendous and the characters worse.

17 years after a close encounter with a flying saucer, Andi Gibson (Rita Artmann), her brother Elliot (Doug Hatch), and her bandmates Cam (Tamara McLaughlin), Keith (Lawrence Silver), and John (Joe Bauer) spot an alien ship. It’s a full-blown invasion focussed squarely on Australia. Convinced she’s the key to ending the conflict, Andi leads them on a mission to save the world.

I’ll get the special effects out of the way. At best, the aliens’ ship look passable. When they start firing beams and knocking over buildings, it isn’t convincing but you give this low-budget venture a pass. Then, you get to see who pilots those ships and any good faith you might’ve had vanishes. The creatures look so awful you expect them to start giving you directions to some run-down tourist trap or the college multimedia course. Still, you might dock Australiens some points but admit the movie is worth checking out if the writing was worth a damn, which it isn’t.

It takes about 2 minutes for Australiens to make a joke about Uranus. The first time, I'll give it a pass (partially because a child makes the joke) but a similar comedic affront comes around every 20 minutes or so. That’s the level of writing we’re talking about. It’s like the movie is telling you it’s going to be garbage right away with horrible performances and a wig so unconvincing you’re not sure if it’s purposely crap. You’ve run out of fingers to count down things the movie does wrong when it suddenly flashes forward to introduce us to the story's REAL protagonists. At least we're making our way towards the end credits. That's something, right?

Each of our heroes is either an annoying stereotype or irritating for another reason. Andi is obsessed with spacemen, which is understandable considering she saw one as a kid and is witnessing an invasion. Keep that in mind when I say she takes things too far. Even her bandmates are fed up with her talks of little green men. They’ve got bigger things to worry about because they collectively have less musical talent than a carrot. If your protagonist isn’t going to be competent or intelligent, they better be charismatic. Failing this, they better be funny. If not, you get someone like Andi.

The rest of our main characters fare no better. Elliot is one of these cartoon nerds that doesn’t exist in real life. You can predict every single one of his lines from the moment we see him puffing on his ashthma inhaler as a kid. I had given up on the film long before he started talking about a strange lump on his testicles. I hoped it wouldn’t get any worse, but it does. This Tasmania-obsessed script lasts a gargantuan hour and fifty-one minutes. In bad comedy time, that roughly translates to a thousand Earth years.

Once in a while, the movie will manage to catch you off-guard with an amusing gag. Does it redeem it in any way? No. The attempts at humor are so lazy it’s the kind of thing you’d see high schoolers come up with. Seeing it delivered by “professionals” fills you with a level of embarrassment that threatens to be fatal. I know you’re not supposed to take what happens in this story too seriously but there isn’t even any attempt to make the plot make sense and at several points it looks like it’s about to try and tie things together to make multi-layered gags… and then Australiens just gives up. You'll be in agony until its post-credit scene.

Australiens is the kind of movie that’s too pathetic to have a Wikipedia page. No one could enjoy it enough to take the time and effort necessary to write a synopsis worthy of the site. Everyone who hates it (so, everyone who wasn’t involved in its production) will be glad to put as much distance between them and this black hole of humour as humanly possible. (January 22, 2021)

[punkscowardschampions]

Una & Django

Una: 📰📢📺📢📻📢

Una: wake up! I’ve got news!

Django: What news could warrant getting me out of my bed

Una: not jumping on it, am I? what more could you want?

Django: Yeah, is it even preferable to the kid, like

Django: you’re a lot heavier 😵

Una: I’m about to be loads lighter if you’d listen

Django: me eyes are open, I’m listening

Django: tell me about your morning 💩 weirdo

Una: my fetishes are another convo

Django: stick to the one we’re on then 📢📢📢

Una: are you after good or bad to start?

Django: are you not after finding another bit of good first? 💩🥪

Django: We may as well skip to the bad bit

Una: I’ve had my breakfast, like

Una: but, here goes, now you’ve made your decision, fucking finally

Una: 👎 news is the 👍 won’t come true for ages yet

Django: ‘cos it’s all me being vague and baiting

Django: am I still 😴 or just thick?

Una: ask me the good news, thicko

Django: Tell me what you want to tell me, drama queen

Una: 🥁

Una: you’ll be rid of me soon

Django: Are you being serious? 🤡

Una: deadly, literally 💀👻

Django: You said you had your breakfast, never that you brought it straight back up

Una: cos I never did, feel free if you’d fancy your go, I’ll wait

Una: not like I’m short on time or anything ⏳

Django: I’m not the one that’s sick, I’m good

Django: when do you start the chemo and everything?

Una: you’re good? 

Una: rub it in why don’t you, boy 😜

Django: you know what I mean, well as avoiding the question

Una: yeah, avoidance tactics 101

Django: for dummies is right 

Django: Now you’ve dropped the news, you don’t wanna talk about it? Alright

Una: 💣 this is my biblical end times, it’s fucking nigh, alright? RIP me

Django: You got better last time, you’ll do it again

Una: nobody’s fannying about this time, they’ve said I’ll not

Django: yeah but, doctors, what do they know

Una: they know it’ll be months instead of years

Una: no 18th 🥳🎂

Django: 16th?

Una: yours or mine?

Django: Fuck

Django: have mine this year then

Una: you’ll have enough to cry about without me resorting to dirty tactics such as birthday theft

Django: It’s a swap and I’m surely doing the better for it, if you reckon you’ve got none left in you

Una: you’re only trying to be off school for it for once 👀

Django: ☀️🌊🤙

Django: D’ya want a sweet 16 or not, girl

Una: do I fuck? what sort of girl are you taking me for? 🤘

Una: punk rock princess already been a 🥳🎂 theme, remember? 👋 bye bye cancer numero uno

Django: There’s not time to be a cliche before you go?

Django: I like any excuse to dress up, remember

Una: the cliche’s dying cancer girl, dunno how we’re dressing that up, a 🤡 wig?

Una: nah, minnie mouse ears, it’s where they all go before they go 🏰

Django: We’ve all got to do it, suppose you can’t get more tired than that, true enough

Django: You get a plus one? Never getting there myself, lack of a wish

Una: probably ma or our Liam, but if you can’t push your luck when its run out, when else can you? might as well come with

Django: You can admit how badly you wanna get every princess’s signature, I won’t bring it up at the wake

Una: 🖕 I’m not the sort of terminal where I go about doing kindnesses for everyone I’ve ever met 💔 as your littlest sis will be to hear it, she can have my [whatever makeup idk] in my will, that’s her lot

Django: you wouldn’t be, as in life and all that 😘

Django: You’re perhaps a couple shades out but beggars can’t be choosers, not put her work in for the 🏰 trip

Una: her wannabe shade, but okay, okay, nothing in the foundation or concealer section of my makeup bag

Django: Does this mean you get to stop coming to school?

Una: least I’m owed

Django: so it’s one long summer

Django: an Irish one, can only give you so much

Una: keep an 🧅 close to hand and you can be my plus one for it too

Django: sure, you don’t wanna be every cunt’s sick note

Django: You’ve gotta fill your days somehow, you’ll need a hand

Una: you’ll spend it with me then? online school’s there for the bullied kids, you won’t need to redo the year or whatever once I’m off

Django: s’the last thing you need to concern yourself with, I’ll handle it

Una: steady on, big man, I’ll pass out from all that talk

Django: 😏 yeah, yeah

Django: that’s big talk from someone who reckons they’re 👻💀

Una: life in her yet

Una: so what’s going to happen tonight?

Django: well, isn’t a list the cliche, got to set aside the time to at least scribble that down so you don’t miss something important

Una: I’ll grab myself an old 💄 Gracie won’t be after having, if we’re behaving as a cliche, best be all in

Django: Not on your mirror, your mammy will have all your hopes and dreams off with a damp cloth

Una: love the metaphor, wiped away easy as that

Django: how is she

Una: beside herself

Django: yeah

Django: so keep your lipstick-smudged list of depravity private, we’ll let her see the bits that make her 🙂 not 😭

Una: I’d rather be dead than in this house bearing witness to more of her 😭

Una: get dressed

Django: Are you bringing Liam?

Una: he’d rather I was dead than dragging him ‘round behind me ‘til I am

Una: where’s Edie? I’ll chuck him at her

Django: More what I meant anyway, come here and leave him, we’ll be off

Una: won’t be having no driving lessons neither, you best call your first car my fucking ugly name

Django: first on the list, more like

Django: Lasses will just think I really love my dead nan, won’t get in the way

Una: I’ll haunt the back seat, have to do everything yourself if you want it done proper anyway

Django: You can’t be moaning about shit names when I’m lumbered with one no one can say

Una: yours suits you, and I like it, my opinion being the only which matters now

Django: now, is it 🤔

Una: true, it’s been that way since always, but especially now

Django: Fair enough, I reckon

Django: so change yours

Una: to what?

Django: what do you want to be called?

Una: there’s a list worth writing, bear with

Django: got clothes to put on, breakfast to have ⏳⏳ take it

Una: [start your list with the inevitable famous or fictional people you like but that I won’t commit to because you’re not gonna go for one of them, crossing them out like no]

Django: Not a Disney princess in sight, fake fan

Una: you don’t shh I’ll suggest we swap names as well as birthdays, see how much it gets in your way, Casanova 

Django: I’ll make it work 😉

Una: [add to your list with girls names from songs you like, also a very teenage girl vibe]

Django: [say which songs you also like]

Una: [finally some place names, including some hilariously bad ones because it’s just places you wanna go like Memphis but you’re not gonna name yourself that lol, put a ✔️ next to your final one which you wanna pick which is Laurel for Laurel Canyon like my boo suggested because very her vibe and not somewhere you’re gonna get to visit or would wanna now probably given that none of the bad bitches live there still]

Django: You’re sold on Laurel, then, not [the most ridiculous one]?

Una: be serious for a sec, do you like it?

Django: S’perfect, you wouldn’t have picked it otherwise

Una: don’t go telling my mammy it’d put her in her grave

Django: I won’t go erasing your real one from my memory, I happen to like your mammy

Una: you can’t be erasing nothing, it’s the closest thing to living longer I’ve got, dying when you do 👴 in your bed

Django: those are my instructions, I suppose?

Una: unless I accidentally kill us during our illegal driving lessons

Django: always time for an accident

Una: tattoo me when I get there, we’ll call it an accident when ma sees

Una: [lyrics from one of the songs he said he liked obvs]

Django: I know how to do that safe as well as drive, you’re not dying yet, okay

Django: but, there’s plenty of places your mammy won’t see it 

Una: my blood’s already more poisoned than you could manage with a little needle, just don’t swap it with me, case cancer’s catching how the conspiracy theorists would have us believe everything is

Django: I’m as scared as you are

Una: I know

Django: You deserve longer

Una: she’s got the desperate prayers covered, can take the woman out of Northern Ireland but not the previously lapsed catholic out of her, like 

Django: least you’re not dying in [wherever exactly her mum is from], count your lucky stars

Una: there’s time, still

Una: should’ve renamed myself Lourdes

Django: by way of Paris, make it a tour

Una: you’d have to come, being single in Paris must be a hanging offence 

Django: cool it off in time for the nuns, got it

Una: bucket list ✔️ seducing a nun’s gayer than I intended on going but as I’m off to hell already 🏳️‍🌈

Django: shut up

Django: lapsed is right, you’ll be off to purgatory which is much more boring and you’ll need all the memories you can grab

Una: fine, [some irrelevant boy she had a cringey crush on when she was younger, for the absolute pisstake cos she obvs doesn’t still fancy him] then

Django: Oh yeah, warm as the 🔥 of hell, he’ll have you 

Una: sicker than chemo, more like it

Una: romance is dead too 💀👻

Django: nah, just set your sights higher

Una: [one of the celebs she listed as liking, whoever is the most hilarious off the list] ✔️ 

Django: how could they refuse 😇🙏

Una: and how could you when I set you as my backup option? 😇🙏

Django: good thing you don’t need to charm me

Una: I’ll bring flowers and chocolates if that’s what you want, sweetheart

Django: what do you want, the hospital not fancying either?

Una: I don’t get what I want, not dying ‘til I’m at least boring and middle aged, if not proper old and grey, isn’t on the cards

Django: Something I can at least steal

Django: I thought maybe my mam’s years were mine to give out but it don’t look like it

Una: I’ll pass whatever message you’ve got for her on when we meet, especially if it’s a fuck you, but it don’t need to be limited to one

Django: have that on me

Django: never knew her, she’s younger than you’ll be

Una: there’s nothing you feel up for telling her?

Una: or asking? I could ask about your da and send a message back to you

Django: How are you telling me any better than she hasn’t bothered to?

Una: I’d find a way, do I not always?

Django: True

Una: never met an eejit I couldn’t wrap ‘round my little finger, be the same in purgatory

Django: as one of those eejits

Una: you’ve dressed up for me, no doubt

Django: Depending on your definition

Una: I’m accepting no less than full disney princess, think on if that’s not what you’ve done

Django: I’ll dig out the tiara 🙄🤪

Una: yay! 

Django: You and your kinks

Una: you’re not ready for that convo yet, babe

Django: Can’t have you fainting

Una: unless it’s a kink of yours, me passed out

Django: because I’m that much of a wrongen

Una: people like all sorts, don’t mean you’re about to be off on a crime spree 🚨

Django: Hmm

Django: in poor taste when you’re about to be permanently passed out though

Una: if you’ve a boner for dead bodies I don’t need to worry about you moving on quick when I am one, in poorer taste for you to when I’ve chucked you my virginity

Django: No one is going to forget you

Una: it’s inevitable, and basic maths ➕➖➗✖️

Una: you’ll all have longer without me than you had with, a whole fucking life where I’m not there cos mine’s cut short

Django: people don’t forget, trust me

Django: you think about the people that are gone more than anyone thinks about the people still here

Una: swear on your long life you’ll keep thinking about me, years from right now

Django: swear on everything

Una: I’ll stay as long as I can, to do everything

Django: I know you will

Una: starting when I get to yours, which is more like if, cos you live too far away from fucking everything

Django: Have to stop girls like you banging down my door every second of somehow, don’t we 😜

Una: you dunno no other girls like me

Django: thank god…

Django: so when’s your man [the celeb she said she fancies] likely to be in town then?

Una: [let’s say it’s a musician so she can drop gig dates at him so we can have them go in the future if we want to or we can be mean and say when it comes around she’s too sick to go]

Django: it’s a date, he just don’t know it yet

Una: eulogy’ll write itself, stand there and do a retell all of the night 📢

Django: Does he not write his own?

Django: that’s immortalised, ain’t it

Una: ooh probably, there’s your slot bumped and you out of a job, nice one

Django: slacking is what I do best

Una: 🌴🍹😎

Django: best stick to your end of the bargain and die or he’ll feel well awkward for noncing on you, like

Una: just needs reminding how many of the greats did it, if it’s good enough for Elvis and Bowie to name but 2

Django: sure, dream big, lad

Una: and dying needs more +s, he’s the only so far

Django: you’ve got a licence to take the piss, you just have to think how you wanna

Una: I already had, being a girl who don’t look like a creature from nobody’s nightmares, but point taken

Django: taking the mick out the little cancer girl wouldn’t have been a good look, even for [the nastiest gals you can think of in your year]

Una: that too, but I was avoiding saying it for the nerve it touches now I’m the cancer girl again ⚡️

Django: will your hair come out this time?

Una: ma’s trying to insist on another go through all that shite, but there’s nobody much except god on her side about it, let them 🥊 it out, her, the drs and my 2 dads, like

Django: Shame, I thought it was a good look

Una: you’re not being stopped from shaving yours, for cash or solidarity 🥚✨ 

Django: if I’m skint, I might 

Una: I might do a bit, to buy us time, I dunno

Django: Not going to be another person telling you what to do

Una: cos you dunno either

Django: I don’t know what it’s like to be the one going through it

Una: take a guess, but it’s not to be a picnic with or without, unless it serves fuck all but 💩🥪 I’m still dying, least the symptoms of chemo are meant to have a ⏳ point

Django: If I was your ma, I’d want you to do it too

Una: which is a roundabout way of saying you want me to

Django: I don’t want you to die

Django: dunno if those are the same thing

Una: comes down to not wanting me to die yet or not ever, cos those are well different things, and only one of them is something I might be able to give you

Django: surely you want as long as you can get, for yourself?

Una: yeah, but I do know what it’s like

Una: and if I get twice as long but half of it’s taken up by feeling how I remember, or worse, then it’s not really twice as long

Django: okay, I see your point

Una: to go through it and die anyway takes the piss, but it’ll take the piss how soon they’ve said I’ll die if I don’t

Django: it’s all shit, basically

Una: you’re catching on

Django: 🥴🔨 eventually

Una: mercy killing like I’m some old 🐶

Django: was talking about my thick skull, honestly

Django: the shotgun emoji doesn’t exist anyway

Una: be a waste of a dying wish, but alright, see what I can do

Una: school shooters and eejits about to be forced into less than happy marriages can thank me in their prayers

Django: what a fan club to have 😭💔 for ya

Una: I bet you’ll have a lovely skull, by the way

Django: You’re such a nutter 

Django: you couldn’t just have cancer in one place so I could heroically offer you a kidney or whatever, no

Una: sorry, no chance to be a hero here, I’ve shat that bed for you

Django: I’ll have to get over it

Una: you could move yourself closer to civilisation if you’re after doing something useful

Django: s’a big ask

Una: I’ve a licence for it, so says you

Django: true but I really, really like my freedom

Una: fine, don’t shave your head, take the money, and use it to buy a van you park in my ma’s drive 24/7

Django: big ✌️ hippie vibes or big 👀 stalker vibes?

Una: whichever dress up takes your fancy the most, bell bottoms or a balaclava

Django: why not both, eh

Una: more is more, that’s the spirit, matey boy

Django: maybe we’ll live above the shops again, always a possibility

Una: you loved it there

Django: yeah, that place is easier to rent out though, there’s always a family friend willing to housesit

Django: this place needs commitment, like

Una: I’ll ask my da to rent it for us

Django: That’d be top

Una: what’s it go per month? we’ll not have need for many unless the drs are gaslighting me

Django: I’d have to ask 

Django: also who’s actually in there, Ali won’t want a rep as a landlord that chucks people out on the streets

Una: extenuating circumstances, give them the sob story and they’ll be off, same as my da’ll open his wallet when I remind him of the birthdays he won’t be forking out for, no wedding, graduation, or grandkids ever to pay for

Django: I’ll still get myself a van, just ‘cos

Django: can stalk other people

Una: should be on the lookout for an old 🚑 for the craic, steal one if there’s none for sale

Django: challenge accepted

Django: sure they must be knocking about somewhere… what do they do with them once they’re knackered 🤔

Una: might be a retirement scrapheap somewhere

Django: take out all the good bits

Una: better than killing all your happy memories living over the shops before when I die

Django: nah, you ain’t that special, don’t worry about it, like

Una: what a kind but barefaced lie to tell either of us

Django: not taking your ego any time soon, this cancer

Una: special is what it makes you, or so goes the lie they tell you on the children’s ward, despite how full of other kids in the same fucking boat it is

Django: adults hate having to tell the truth, most of them, especially to kids

Una: but friends don’t let friends die in 🌈 rooms when they’re not 4 no more, swear to me you won’t

Django: swear

Django: you’ll let some poor kid have it and be out the way with all the morphine they’ll give you

Una: I’ll show appreciation by sharing all my hard drugs

Django: 😂 tah, I’ll deffo stick around then

Una: you and [the rockstar from earlier]

Una: easy to ✔️ 3some off the list, like

Django: oh, easy, is it?

Una: get a bit of an ego too and don’t sell yourself short, he’d be lucky to have you

Django: Ha ha 😏

Una: when you’re dying you can pick the other person

Django: It’s not about him

Django: you’ve never heard of, idk, softening the blow

Django: 📰📢📺📢📻📢 after 📰📢📺📢📻📢 with you

Una: I don’t have time for softly, softly

Una: and I’m not in the mood for it neither

Django: alright

Django: what else is on your ✔️

Una: if in doubt, ask yourself, what would [the most shameless celeb of their era or any era she can think of] do?

Django: I figured that much

Una: as much as we can ‘til you go on without me and make me proud to watch as well as never bored, no pressure 👀☁️🔭☁️

Django: You make a far more convincing stalker 

Una: it’s no to an itchy balaclava though, wig’s bad enough

Django: be all ⛓⛓⛓⛓ for your sins, you’ll love it

Una: we’re finally talking fetishes, are we?

Django: You complaining how long the journey over is

Una: it is, I’ll probably drop dead mid

Django: nah, you’ve always been lazy

Una: the hero you wanna be would offer to meet us halfway

Django: so you have to walk? 

Una: here’s an opportunity for my first driving lesson

Django: no time like the present… hang on then, halfway

Una: I took a literal approach to storming out of home, with no thought to how knackering it’d be

Django: And who’s the eejit?

Django: bloody hell

Una: I had a point to prove!

Django: yeah I’m well aware you’d drop down dead to do it

Una: making our Liam carry me defeats it, and he’d rather die

Django: he’s lanky enough

Una: yeah, but so am I, unfair to him ‘til I’m proper skin and bone

Django: I’m on my way

Una: don’t get yourself pulled over, no use to nobody

Django: not an amateur, girl

Una: you can have that one as yours to prove

Django: like I ain’t all these years?

Django: psh, okay

Una: there’s an ego there, knew it

Django: never claimed to be 🥺😳🤓

Una: can’t decide if it’s 👍 or 👎 news

Django: you clearly like egos, [this rockstar because they always do lol]

Una: but I can’t knock 🥺😳 before I’ve tried it, might like that too

Django: [list boys in your year who are clearly the shyest of sweet nerds]?

Una: really ready to palm me off 💔

Django: I just told you I’m not, am I faking it for you now?

Una: just tell me roleplay isn’t your thing

Django: Pisstake 

Una: years of practice 

Django: 💐💐

Una: stealing them from scenes of accidents on your way’d be extreme poor taste and could be bad luck, I dunno 🥀

Django: you’ll have to pick your own 🥺😳 girl, there’s enough at ours

Una: there’ll be enough at my funeral, I’m banning them before

Django: in that case, please leave them alone and don’t go mental with some shears, like

Una: how much I can bruise and bleed I’m 100% banned from picking up fuck all unless it’s harmless and fit for the children’s ward 🧸

Django: 💉 still on the cards though, happy days

Una: technically you’re holding the tattoo gun and what ma don’t know won’t hurt her

Django: if you try to bleed to death, I’ll have to kill you just for being a dick

Una: I’ll stick to my nose and gums how it’s been up to now 🤞

Django: swear?

Una: I can’t, like, I’ll be a dick if I break it seconds and letters into [whatever the first word of this tattoo is]

Django: at least you’re not bullshitting

Django: I’ll do it faint, some poetic nonsense, right

Una: I don’t want it to be faint

Django: I know

Una: compromises have already fucking started

Django: okay, okay just tell me what to do if you turn my room into the shining

Una: 🚨🚑🚨

Django: That serious

Django: 👍 no pressure

Una: it’s all that serious now

Una: could be after getting an infection if somebody so much as 👀 at me wrong 🙄🥳

Django: So your mammy really will murder me if she sees this

Django: going to have to keep your clothes on at all times

Una: I’ll keep it to myself if you give me chlamydia, be for the best 

Django: Don’t sound like you plan on keeping anything to yourself

Una: I said, there’s no time and it’s not the mood I’m in

Django: [the scandalous celeb inspo] I remember

Una: most of my clothes can stay on if you want

Django: what sort of person would I be if I exploited your rush for myself

Una: you’re trying so hard to make this sound like it’s against my will

Django: I’m just trying to separate what you actually want from what you think you have to fit in before you go

Una: racing the clock, I’d be doing it instead of having this convo, wouldn’t I? if nothing else bothered me and my singular motivation was ✔️

Django: It hasn’t come up before, that’s all

Una: I wasn’t taking the risk of fucking up us as friends before

Django: It wouldn’t

Django: it won’t

Una: you dunno it wouldn’t, when there wasn’t this 💣 doing it instead, nor did I

Django: I know, ‘cos it’s us and we’re the ones who’d get to decide

Una: yeah, okay, but I couldn’t just turn ‘round one day and ask if you wanted to sleep with me, out the blue

Django: If anyone would, it’s you

Una: my ego isn’t the size of your house

Django: I’d call you cute if I didn’t think you’d need a lie down after trying to fight me

Una: Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I hate you at the minute, boy

Django: Wanting to sleep with us lasting all of five minutes then 

Una: if only, I’d swing for you and be over it, but it’s been ages, is what I’m saying to you

Django: You’re still wanting 🥺😳 I get it

Una: I wanna be honest, messing’s for people who get to live to be old and go on about their regrets in the pub, the one who got away or whatever

Django: I’m not messing and you can say whatever you like, I’ll not make you feel bad for it

Una: say something back

Django: you know I’m bad with words

Una: I feel I’ve backed you into a corner with all of mine

Django: I could say no, it’s not impossible

Una: you could say yes for the wrong reasons and I’d have to kill myself before cancer gets chance

Django: no, I won’t, I promise

Una: okay then

Django: it feels fucked for me to be thinking about, you know, considering

Una: I’m still here, alive, and the same person

Django: yeah, okay, well, I want to too

Una: cos we’re us, no pity, no ticking ⏱💣⏲

Django: That would be more fucked than just doing it for my own selfish gain, Jesus, no

Una: I’d have to kill you, which would be proper selfish, stealing my thunder

Django: Now you’ve got a monopoly on death

Una: can’t I have that much?

Django: 🏠💶🎩🐕🚗🚢🥾💶🏨

Una: get out of jail free ✔️ second prize in a beauty contest ✔️ it’s my birthday ✔️ 

Una: drs and hospital fees ❌ speeding fine ❌

Django: Where is your dad living now?

Una: [drop the location because I feel like he’s not in Dublin but he’s close enough you can still see him on weekends and shit when you want, but he’s also probably the kind of bitch who moves around more than your average bear, especially if that’s where you got your cool girl vibe from]

Django: the flat is a better location, like

Una: I’ll get in his ear about it 📢

Django: If there’s 1 thing you’re good at 🔊

Una: you flirt 

Django: 😏 shut up

Una: time’s running out to start a screamo band, best sleep with me as I’ve no other talents, like

Django: Well, have you thought about where, if we’re being serious about it, like

Una: our Liam’ll be in the car with us so that’s out 

Una: there’s no privacy at yours and ma’s playing warden at mine 

Una: ask to view the flat? show Ali we’re serious about it too, she might leave us alone there for a bit?

Una: all else’s ❌ we go for my da’s place 🚊

Django: Oh, so you have thought about it then, loads

Django: she’d let us view it, that should work

Una: I thought of it then, when you asked me

Django: Uhuh 😚

Una: process of elimination, is all

Django: I’m not going to do it just anywhere, tah

Una: nor am I, as the one who’s at risk of ☣️🤒⚠️😷☢️

Django: Are there like

Django: extra precautions to take

Una: no balaclavas for this either, I’m putting my foot down

Django: Not going to be practical if you overheat and end up 🤒 that way

Una: and unless you’re gonna pay me, I’m not planning on a no kissing rule, have to take our chances 🦠🧫

Django: I don’t think I’ve got any germs, more than you

Una: romance really is dead if I anti-bac you from head to foot before

Una: I trust you not to actively try and kill me 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Django: I don’t mind

Django: I mean, is it a weird request, sure but at least you’ve a valid reason I’m not left wondering over

Una: I mind, it’s not what I had in my head when thinking freak in the sheets

Django: I’d sort of mind if I killed you

Django: but okay, I’ll be thorough in the shower, think about it all you want

Una: I don’t want it memorable for that sort of reason

Una: but you’re on a better track with 🚿💭

Django: You’re not dropping down dead today

Django: if you want some time to plan it, so it can be all you want it to 💭

Una: we don’t need to plan, chemo’s the greatest contraceptive going

Django: is that how they sell it to people who are on the fence, like

Una: should be

Django: your ma would be thrilled

Una: I’m not about to tell her for the praise, you’ll have to give it me instead

Django: might take me a minute to not automatically take the piss but

Una: it’s okay, I’ve the identical urge whenever you open your mouth

Django: shame, that one works better the other way around

Una: are you after some time?

Django: 😏 I’ll be grand, tah

Una: alright, well, are you ever gonna get yourself here to me?

Django: as I can’t take full credit for your impatience, I’ll step on it

Una: you can take most of it, rest’s our Liam whinging on

Django: bit rude he’s not after hanging out

Una: does make us wonder what it’d take 😏

Django: if anyone knows what shite company you are, it’s me but you know, time and a place for face ache 

Una: oh, nice, being ganged up on now as well as

Django: I’ll be nice to you when we’ve dropped him off at home

Una: believe it when I feel it

Django: you will

Una: I’ve it in writing, you best not let me down

Django: how many other lads do you plan on doing this with

Django: ‘cos I might have a few pointers on not piling on the pressure, lead to better results

Una: I wasn’t planning to write that ✔️❌ list

Una: let it go straight to your ego ➕ or the pressure get to you ➖

Django: oh

Django: 😁 proper special, like

Una: no comment

Django: I’ll start acting more worth that plan

Una: don’t start acting different, for the love of god

Django: don’t you want you know

Django: 💐🍫 romance

Una: the cancer isn’t in my brain, or caused a personality changing stroke like my nana had

Django: your Liam wishes

Una: by the sounds so do you

Django: only as a joke

Django: you know how it really is

Una: 🤡

Django: being serious about this would be a heavy place to start, wouldn’t it

Una: I know, but I’m not having the biggest laugh with this being how it came out I fancy you, it wasn’t how I wanted to do it

Django: what were your plan, out of interest

Una: it don’t matter, I can’t have another go, it’s out there now

Django: fine, I’ll tell you when I first noticed you like that, then you won’t be moody about it no more, deal?

Una: fine

Django: a little more enthusiasm, thank you

Una: FINE!!!

Django: You know in [whatever year you would feasibly have your first big growth spurt, idk] and [some dickhead lad] started everyone calling you [a lanky related nickname]?

Una: yeah, the memory comes back whenever I can’t sleep

Django: it’s mutual

Una: it all happened ages ago, why didn’t you say something?

Django: Probably because you were busy raging at [this boy]

Una: when I eventually calmed down then?

Django: Why is that what you’re taking away from it?

Una: why do you reckon? we could’ve had time together before it was running out

Django: we did still have that time together

Una: you know what I mean

Django: like you said, there’s nothing to fuck up now, that was ages ago

Django: it could’ve just been a fleeting thing

Una: I’m under pressure too, I’m gonna look and feel disgusting soon

Una: might give you new nightmares and reasons why you can’t sleep

Django: it’s hardly the only reason, if it was then maybe I’d get to be that shallow twat

Una: can you not give me a lad response and try and understand what I’m saying?

Django: right, sorry, try again

Una: if I wasn’t dying we’d both get to be shallow about it, it wouldn’t be a banned word

Django: okay, so, if you start looking disgusting, I’ll stop sleeping with you

Django: no bullshit

Una: I’m after no special treatment, stop anytime you want to, it don’t matter the reason, you’re not my hostage I’ve chained to the radiator 

Django: I just promised I would

Una: double promise, it’s fucking important

Django: I promise I promise, alright

Django: but you have to believe me and not be a psycho thinking you know what I think when it’s really you

Una: okay, I promise not to overthink what you’re thinking

Django: Deal done then

Una: 💧🤝🩸

Una: but be warned if you ever call me a psycho again, I’ll show you one

Django: I’m familiar

Una: I’ve come a long way since [that dickhead boy at school]

Django: 😱😱😱 girl

Django: not surrounded by psycho girls or nothing

Una: says more about you than it does me

Django: oi, I can’t help being outnumbered in my own home

Django: not everyone gets it right with their first 2 go’s like your mam did

Una: I’ll pass it along when we’re back on speaking terms

Django: Soon as you’re dropped back then

Una: you’re not dropping me nowhere I’ve not okayed first

Django: not a cabbie

Una: and I’m not [the kind of parcel your mum would receive, I don’t know her life lol] you can’t be leaving me on her doorstep, I won’t get out your 🚕!

Django: Come on, you’ve gotta be nice to her

Una: I set foot in there I’ll never come out, she’d have me chained to a radiator on sight

Django: I doubt that’s doctor recommended 

Una: I’ve got too much else to do to wrap myself in blankets and pray like she wants

Django: I didn’t say we were immediately headed in that direction

Una: what you said is you weren’t gonna tell me what to do

Django: I can’t feel sorry for her as well, no?

Una: by all means feel sorry for her instead of me, cos I’d rather die right here and right now than have you even imply you are

Django: I meant as well as not telling you what to do anyway

Django: her kid is dying

Una: yeah, I am

Django: you’ll be gone, you’ll not mind, she’s the one living with it, of course I feel bad for her

Una: I’m not gone yet, and I fucking mind she’s trying to control how the rest of my life’s spent

Django: I know

Una: you’re being too calm and rational, I need you to be furious with me

Django: I’m trying to be the person who keeps it together

Django: I’m not your mammy, your da, I don’t get to lose it

Una: it’s the time you get to lose it, you’re losing me

Django: you’ve not given me a second to fucking breathe never mind anything else

Una: take it, you’ve got the luxury, wasn’t you getting ambushed by drs this morning

Django: Jesus

Una: [not replying because giving him a second and being petty because teenage girl but that after a beat because teenage girl and can’t shut up]

Una: I haven’t energy to hold ma’s hand through this, same goes for yours, or any fucker else’s, call it callous or whatever

Una: I did the 😁 little miss sunshine craic last time I was sick, and where did it get us?

Django: I’m not asking you to

Una: you and her and everybody else will have time to get your head ‘round it when I’m dead, all I’ve got’s now and I’m already trying to pack years into months, knowing there’s still loads I won’t be able to do

Django: You know what you have to do, I’m not stopping you

Una: you’re guilt tripping me, as if I’m unaware how shite this is for my mammy off my own back 

Django: I’m saying I’m not going to be a cunt to your mother about this, I’ve no right, you’ve every right to be entirely selfish about it, it’s the least you’re owed

Una: I’m not letting her stop me, that’s all there is to it

Django: Okay, I’ve heard you

Una: permission granted to turn your car ‘round and piss off if you fancy that more than coming this way

Django: Why?

Una: you’ve every reason

Django: I’m sorry I said that about your mum, I didn’t mean to guilt trip you

Una: believe me, there’s nothing I’d love more than to be wrapped up in her fantasy like it’s the warmest blanket going and get to be nice to her

Django: I’m sorry you’re dying

Django: I don’t know how else to say that

Una: there’s probably not loads of different ways to say it, in fairness

Django: It’s not fair, to anyone but most to you

Una: nah, it’s not, I dunno how else to say that either

Django: Ali knows a lot more about protests than me

Django: and dying, you should ask her

Una: she’s not my type, I’m sorry

Django: 😒 great craic

Una: I want you, and you said I’ve the green light on being selfish

Django: yeah, dunno why that means you’ve gotta have a shite sense of humour all of a sudden but

Una: I’m sorry, I’m having a day of it here, like

Django: better, that one was topical, like

Una: don’t turn your car ‘round or I’ll have to be all 🥺 about it and neither of us wants that, right?

Django: under the circumstances, I shan’t waste your time having you beg for it

Una: you can have me grateful for that

Django: I weren’t turning ‘round, by the way

Una: if I’ve any hope left I’m keeping it for that you don’t, even as a metaphor when it gets worse than this

Django: Oons

Una: forgetting my name isn’t doing much for the hope

Django: Laurel, sorry

Una: I know I’m not supposed to say anything close to don’t leave me before we’re even together but fucking do not, please

Django: I won’t, never

Una: there’s a million scenes from what feels like a million shite dying girl films playing over and over in my head and that’s nothing like how bad it’ll be, is it?

Django: okay I’ll tell you what to do by banning any rewatches of them, just this one thing

Una: our Liam’ll be after making his own, wait and see 📹

Una: can ✔️ fame off the list at least

Django: sound less 😁 at the prospect

Una: leading man’ll have you 😁 too

Django: see, knew you wanted Mr Darcy really

Una: I told you who I want

Django: I do wish I’d known sooner too

Una: I was gonna say something on your birthday, to avoid the not knowing what to get you pisstake which happens every year, since you asked what my original plan was

Django: Such a lass move

Django: I’d never get away with that, however many compliments I showered you in

Una: how would you have done better? go on, impress me with your what if scenario

Django: than wrapping myself in a bow? Easy

Django: I’d take you to [whoever are her faves]’s gig and then you’d be so 😍 I’d be well in

Una: I didn’t say I’d 🎀 you flirt

Una: a lad move, but it would’ve worked

Django: You better, keep telling you I’m not easy, like

Una: there’s still time for me to buy up all the ribbon in town

Django: s’not my birthday now

Una: I don’t care, every day can be your birthday now

Django: it’s not going to be bad, even sick girl movie cliche bad

Django: you’ll be 😁 whether you like it or not

Una: 😁🩸

Django: That’s what you get if you want me to stay, alright

Una: what do I get if I’m after 1 cliche and it’s you bringing 🍦?

Django: well, a longer wait whilst I figure out where between me and you has 🍦 but consider it done

Una: play the 🎶 as you drive up or I’ll send you off to try again

Django: I should get an ice cream van, you’re right

Una: everybody will reckon you’re selling gear

Django: I can just tell the disappointed smackheads you’re taking it all

Una: oh, nice, set the angry smackheads on me

Django: they’re hardly a threat, half comatose

Una: I’m not really fighting fit myself, boy

Django: the morphine will have you feeling it

Una: well, sure, but maybe we’ll aim for slightly more romance than me fighting off smackheads while you watch?

Django: I think I can manage that

Una: 🤞🤞 no pressure though

Django: I’m not totally incapable, I’d have to be actively disgusted by you to do that badly

Una: this is where I’d throw you a compliment if it was something I was used to

Django: yeah

Django: I can go without but if that’s what you wanna hear, I’ll 🔊

Una: fuck that, you’re not going without anything

Django: we’ll get used to it together then, I guess

Una: yeah

Django: you don’t have to speedrun the shit you don’t really feel or want to say though

Una: you think I’m selfish, and probably, but not enough to lie straight to your face

Django: not that you’d lie, don’t think you have to give me that though, just to play little miss sunshine one more time, okay?

Una: okay

Django: not going to start crying and you have to leave another room you can’t stand to be in

Una: she’s surely an uglier crier than you, how’s that for a compliment?

Django: I’m blushing

Una: believe it when I see it

Django: get ready then

Una: but you said you’d be ages! 

Django: gotta have some chances to surprise you

Una: gonna melt my 🍦 being that hot about it, I’m not ready 

Django: let your kid brother out the car before you lose it, yeah

Una: long as you mean randomly by the side of the road, then yeah

Django: so harsh 🤣

Una: did you bring him 🍦 as well?

Django: don’t take the piss, it’d be well rude if I didn’t

Una: am I not special to you? who’s taking the piss?

Django: I’ll show you that you are when you’re done with your 🍦 and we’re alone

Una: fucking hell, you can’t say that and not expect me to force our Liam to walk

Django: yes I can, a little anticipation won’t kill you

Una: it might, but I really hope it don’t

Django: Trust me

Una: fine, I’ll let him stay in the car under protest

Django: It won’t take long to drop him back, it’ll only feel it

Una: already feels it

Django: how does it feel?

Una: the lack of 🍦 is killing me

Una: where are you?

Django: [pull up]

[weepingvoidpenguin]

Unfortunately Yours

Summary: When you and Bucky successfully infiltrate a HYDRA auction, you’re told to stay another day due to max capacity on the jet. But how are you going to survive a night alone with this insufferable Super Soldier? Especially considering the miniscule size of the room and the obvious dilemma presented; who gets the bed?

Warning: S M U T , the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written, language, spit kink, daddy kink, ptsd symptoms, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, hate-s e x, rough, more like enemies-to-lovers kind of thing, gagging, m!receiving, f!receiving, lots of receiving lol, 18+, M

Word Count: 10.6K (Whhhyyyyy)

   Your body burned with exhaustion and the sheer weight of your extremities felt enough to drag you to the floor and mirror a coma with the length of your hibernation. You no longer had the minimal strength required to pick up your feet properly which resulted in the sound of shuffling to fill the small, and by small you meant miniscule, room you’d been assigned to. 

   Well, you and Bucky had been assigned to.

   You’d both played your parts well enough over the course of the last few hours. You’d sauntered into the ran-shacked looking bar with Bucky’s arm tossed lazily over your shoulder, his distaste for the assignment evident on his face, but he’d cleared it away the second his foot crossed the threshold. He pulled you in tighter to his body and raised his chin into the air, emitting the energy of a man not to be trifled with. You’d portrayed your role as a damsel just as, if not more, convincing as Barnes’ opposite. Your shoulders hunched over and your steps were small and quivering, the wig on your head a tool used to curtain the hair in your face. 

   You were the lamb to this White Wolf.

   Word had traveled through the dark and twisted grapevine that a certain showing of sorts took place tonight and a high-ranking target was rumored to be amongst its audience. You and Barnes were on the first flight to Germany within minutes.

   Bucky had pulled you through the crowd moving along to the thundering music in the background and halted at the edge of the bar. His grip on your shoulder tightened once he’d caught the man’s attention and you winced, his fingers digging a little too deep for your liking.

   The bartender scanned you over and took in your frame, making you feel smaller than you had already displayed yourself to be. It took him a while to conclude but when he took in Bucky’s domineering gaze, a look as if to say Deny me, I dare you, he nodded once and wrote something down on a napkin, sliding it over to Bucky.

   Scum. All of them. 

   You nearly blew your cover trying to throw Bucky a look but you refrained from the hellfire clawing its way out of you. You had to be perfectly in control, emotions and beliefs aside. You were a damsel and you had to make certain they believed that. You knew they were watching; they always were.

   “Relax,” Bucky hissed, pulling you under his arm and bringing his lips to your ear.

   “When you pretend you’re the one being put up for auction, then you can tell me to relax,” you muttered, never looking up from the ground.

   “I have been.” When you paused your movement, he pulled away to scan the room, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.” He led you backstage and turned the corner to a dimly lit hallway, barren of any decoration in sharp contrast to every other section of the building, “Besides, once they realize how insufferable you are, they’ll be begging me to take you back,”

   He opened an iron door and pushed you into the room, sending you tumbling down onto the carpet. He tsked, stepping over you and not looking back after shutting the door behind himself. You counted thirteen pairs of feet and judging by the way some of them were turned towards you, they had to be watching. You observed your hands for a second, counting slowly until you figured you’d stalled long enough and sent your trembling gaze to the exit. Bucky let out a low chuckle and clasped his hand around your upper arm, launching you back onto your feet and twisting your body to face him.

   Oh, darling, German fluently escaped his tongue and you nearly rolled your eyes at the condescending tone settled in his words, You know better than that, don’t you?

   His hold tightened and you winced, holding back the whimper in your throat. If you saw any hint of a bruise forming on your arm, you would give him hell later . . . and possibly even if you didn’t.

   You bit your tongue and let him lead you towards a leather chair before he pulled you swiftly down onto his lap where his hand remained on your thigh, brushing the inside softly. Had you not been so annoyed, you’d have been humiliated at all the stares devouring the scene unfolding before them. 

   Good girl, he drawled and pressed your back flat up against his chest where he could put you on display.

   You knew you should’ve been annoyed, or at least settled so into your role as his temporary whore-for-sale that the sensation coming alive between your thighs shouldn’t have made an appearance. But sometimes, the way Bucky brought his voice down real low and cooed an insult or jest your way just had an affect that your body would not deny. It kept you awake a lot.

   Instead, you swallowed hard and let yourself be splayed against him. You ignored the scent of sandalwood in his cologne.

   Your body trembled from the cold breeze floating around in the room and you shifted in Bucky’s lap to block everyone’s sight from the way your chest reacted to the change in temperature.

   Don’t be shy, he murmured and removed your arms from your breasts, letting the thin, practically see-through fabric show you to the world.

   “Buc-” You started, your panic creeping through the cracks at the cheshire sneers sent your way, but at the first sign of your discomfort, he retracted his hands and twisted you around gently, throwing your legs over the side of the chair and spreading them but forcing your upper half to face him. Effectively, cutting your chest off from their line of sight.

   You trembled out a sigh and he grabbed your face tightly, drawing your eyes to his. He examined you, his hardened gaze shouting words he couldn’t currently say. But you understood. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t a bad man.

   Your body instinctively leaned into him for warmth as another breeze engulfed you, resulting in a shiver that made its way up your spine. “Are they still looking?” you inquired and he gripped your neck with a ferocity that made you squirm in his lap. Fuck.

   He pulled your ear to his lips and licked the helix. You whimpered. “No,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, “But if you don’t quit fucking squirming you’re gonna have a problem, Doll,”

   You opened your mouth in question when you felt a sudden twitch on your backside and you swallowed. Hard. He never broke eye contact with you, instead choosing to raise a brow in mocking. Your chest heaved up and down and how you could feel his breath grazing on your cheek almost had you rubbing your legs together for some form of desperate friction. No, you had to keep yourself composed, keep the act going. But he’d seen it. All of it.

   You nod your head and slowed your breathing down until he released his grip around your throat and turned his attention towards the dim stage. You leaned back into him and followed suit, making sure to keep your attention downcast and appear disheveled. 

   “There,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes and you lifted your head only to find the man you had come all this way for walking straight towards you.

   Like a moth to a flame.

   “How much?” The older man inquired, his grotesque gaze settled on your spread legs.

   Bucky looked up at the balding man as if this was the first time he’d noticed his presence, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” 

   The man lifted his brow, or what would’ve been, and smiled wickedly, “I’ll give you double your price if you give her to me now,” he offered, his eyes slithering up to the apex of your thighs and this time you didn’t have to fake the shiver running up your spine. 

   A small smirk formed on Bucky’s face and he waved his hand dismissively at him, “Get in line,”

   The old man sneered but Bucky was right, most everyone had their attention fixated on what was happening currently and it was apparent there was, indeed, a line. 

   Bucky rested his gloved hand on your upper thigh and gripped tight, whether to refrain from hitting the guy or just to touch you, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t keep you away when the man said, “I’ll give you four times the asking price but I want her now,” 

   Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened and you squeaked at the pain, jumping slightly in his lap. “How about I give her to you for free for ten minutes and you tell me if you can handle her,”

   You jerked your head towards Bucky and furrowed your brows. Free? Dick. You nearly scoffed.

   The man gripped onto your calf and you shifted to kick his hand away when Bucky’s own shot out and and ripped his off of you, “Don’t touch my stuff,” he spit and the man let out a yell but that only spurred Bucky on and he tightened his fist, “Until terms are agreed upon, she remains mine to do with as I please. Understood?”

   The man nodded hastily and Bucky threw you off his lap when he stood up. “Anyone else?” Bucky shouted to the room, daring others to test his limits when it came to you. After a few moments of silence Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t fucking think so,”

   Bucky’s grip on the man remained and he stared down at the hunched figure, “Now, you,” he addressed and the room remained silent. This was allowed here. 

   Normally, merchandise couldn’t be touched until it was purchased. No buying before the auction, no discussing what you’re offering, no negotiating but most importantly don’t try to steal from anyone. These are criminals and that being said, they handle things amongst themselves. They know the rules and the risks they take breaking them.

   So, when Bucky drags the poor bastard away, you follow right behind him. Not a protest to be heard. Bucky throws open the door we entered through and finds the nearest room before chucking the HYDRA agent inside and locking the door behind you. 

   The room was brightly lit, with all four walls a dull cream color and dark brown couches strewn casually about. There’s no real order to this place. All cement corners and LED bulbs. Pure business. 

   “Let ‘em know,” Bucky orders and you turn around to argue only to find the man pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket.

   You jerk suddenly and kick Bucky square in the stomach, launching him towards one of the couches just as a shot rings out. You blanch at the sound, the noise filling your head and drowning everything else out. You hear yelling but you can’t make out the words, only the panic intermingled within them. Your hand reaches out around you and you grip the small button lined into your thin clothing, pressing it four times how you’d been instructed.

   Everything moved slowly and people began filing into the room. How did they get here so fast? No. It wasn’t possible, they were a quarter mile down the road, there was no way they were your backup. 

   Hands began flying in the air and you were picked up and dropped multiple times, each time landing harder than the last. You tried to blink back the spinning but the blows landing on your face and torso made it all the worse. 

   Instinctively, you threw your hands up to protect your face and fought to find some footing to help. Bucky was good but he wasn’t a God, he would need help. When the first blow met your forearms you reached out to grasp the hand and used your other to drive your fist right into the person’s nose. The bone crunched under your blow.

   You took a hit, then another when you managed to analyze the enemy’s fight pattern and waited until he left himself open before driving your knee into his rib cage. He bent over in pain and you grabbed him by the hair, hearing another crack when you shoved your elbow upwards against his nose. 

   You heard a shout and whipped your head over to see Bucky on his back, a looming figure with a gun aimed straight towards him. You galvanized towards them and threw yourself in the air, using your weight to kick him off of Bucky when another shot rang out. 

   Bucky shot up and crushed the gun with his metal arm. You scoured the room for the familiar HYDRA agent but found him nowhere. You shot out of the room, knocking into an opposing wall as you turned the corner and ducked when the sound of a bullet whizzed past you. 

   This is not going good. You had lost your target and rummaged through room after room until you’d become lost. Fuck. Where the hell did he run off to? You winced after breaking out into a sprint but pressed on, not allowing yourself to slow down. There was no way you were going to fail this mission, especially after coming so close to success.

   Sweat trailed down your face and your muscles screamed at you to halt, their exhaustion beginning to wear you down. Your breathing grew rapid and your vision blurred and just as you went to lean on a wall to rest, your shoulder exploded out in pain and you collapsed with a cry.

   “Dirty whore,” the HYDRA man seethed, a cane raised over his head. He brought it down and you spun to the side, feeling the air breeze past your ear.

   Your hand latched onto the cane and you shoved it into his gut, pushing him away. SHIELD wanted this guy alive, so alive they would receive him. That didn’t mean he had to come in one piece though. 

   You tore the walker out of his hand just as he tumbled onto his ass. You stood up, grunting along the way and hovered over his body, fear sprawled along his features. 

   “You can either stay still or get beat with your own cane, it’s your choice,” you offered, aching to bring the walker down onto his face. “Please test me. Please.” You begged.

   His gaze shifted between you and the weapon and he brought his trembling hands up in defeat. He must’ve been an agent of some Intelligence branch because his fighting abilities were evidently subpar at best.

   You sighed, sad to see the opportunity go but brought the cane down none the less. “That’s unfortunate,”

   You turned your attention to the sound of running coming around the corner and moved to drag and hide your captive in a nearby closet only to roll your eyes when Bucky came ‘round. You tossed the cane back and forth between your hands and smiled proudly towards the agent on the floor.

   “Look who I caught,” you toyed and were met with a grunt.

   “Only because you let him get away,” he retorted, pulling the balding man up to his feet.

   Everything began to slow and the hellfire you’d kept under mounds of ice had finally melted through its freezing cage. “What?”

   He turned his back towards you and trudged the hesitant man behind him towards the exit.

   “I said,” you hollered, not caring how the halls carried your echo, “What?”

   “I heard what you said,” he called back to you, not bothering to turn around.

   And there you were left, frozen and dumbfounded for five solid minutes before you could pull yourself together enough to stomp your way back towards the rendezvous point. You remained hazy for the most part while debriefing. You tried to recount everything but the way your anger engulfed you in its flame obscured your memory so you kept it short. 

   It was quickly brought up that SHIELD captured more HYDRA agents than expected and were gonna be at max capacity so you and Bucky had to stay at a base a few miles down the road. You grumbled in compliance but Bucky didn’t respond, not even a godforsaken grunt.

   What SHIELD had failed to mention though, was that this bunker was clearly meant for one. It barely counted as a room. There was a small bathroom in the corner just big enough for a shower and toilet. No sink. And a small counter with just enough space for a stove, microwave and radio. If you were to lay down vertically or horizontally you’d nearly be touching wall each way. Not to mention the singular bed.

   And that’s how you got to where you were now. Miniscule room. Exhausted body. Drained mind. Patience long gone. 

   You huffed and dropped your bag in front of the entrance before walking to the bathroom and turning to slam the door closed. You turned the faucet on and ripped the wig off, discarding your clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower. The warm water was nice and welcoming but your body already felt aflame so you twisted the knob and held your breath when the cold stream trickled down your body. It was difficult to breathe at first, but your body soon adjusted to the temperature and you began wiping the muck off your skin with the bar of soap supplied. But that’s all the was supplied. Clearly, this place was meant to be a quick pit stop. 

   You sat on the hard floor as the water streamed onto your body. You could nearly fall asleep to its rhythm; It was only when your head hit the wall that you realized you were so you begrudgingly stood up and shut off the water. You grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and pat yourself dry, noticing just then that you left your clothes outside.

   You let out a long sigh and twisted open the doorknob to find Bucky toying with the radio on the counter; not even purposefully, just looking for something to do while he waited. 

   You opened your mouth to ask him to hand you your bag but after what he said to you earlier you’d sooner eat hot coals than ask him to do anything for you. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped neatly around your chest and you bent over to open your bag. The shuffling on the radio stopped. 

   “You could’ve at least left me some warm water,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

   You searched in your bag for the fresh clothes residing there only to turn around when you found them and have the bathroom door shut in your face. 

   “Are you fucking kidding me?” You shouted, pounding your fist against the door.

   You could hear the water running and you groaned, pounding harder. The door opened for a split second and you were hit in the face with the clothes you’d left inside only for it to instantly be slammed shut again.

   You punched the door with all the frustration built up over the past few hours and felt the wood crack with your force. Why did this man have to be incredibly baffling? You were not nearly paid enough to deal with such an unbearable partner. He would have you bald from stress before you knew it. 

   You spent the next few minutes grumbling to yourself after you changed and scribbled your frustration onto a small notebook you took with you everywhere. It was only when you heard the water shut off did you remember something. You still had the only towel. A villainous smirk tugged at your lips and you placed the folded towel on the edge of the bed, away from the door.

   Then you heard the creak. “I will walk out naked if you don’t give me the towel,” Bucky threatened.

   You shrugged despite him not being able to see you from your position on the bed, “I’ll just laugh at your dick,” 

   “You weren’t laughing earlier,” he shot back.

   Oh. So he did remember. Good. You thought he’d gotten amnesia within the past few hours, maybe he was just too ashamed to mention it.

   “Too disgusted to insult. Plus, I was playing a character,”

   “Fine,” he responded and quickly came into view, haughtily sauntering over to your side and you shouted.

   “Dear God!” You held the towel up to block your sight of his barren body. It was disgusting. He was all wet, hair dripping onto his muscled torso, water gleaming off his taut skin, 5 o’clock shadow drenched and straight out of a wet dream. Jesus.

   “Prude,” he commented, snatching the towel from your grasp and wrapping it around himself. 

   “Respectable,” you corrected, crossing your arms and shoving him away. “You get the floor,”

   He lifted his duffle off the ground and rummaged through it. “Then I get the blanket,”

   “You get fuck all,” you stated, flipping off the lamp beside you and snuggling into the warm cot.

   When the shuffling stopped and the bathroom light was shut off, you shut your eyes and let the wear of the day grab at you, lulling you into the beginning of slumber. That is, until the blanket was hauled from around you, damn near throwing you onto the floor. You shouted out and caught yourself last minute. 

   “Barnes!” You yelled, steadying yourself and reaching over the edge to grab the blanket back. Your hand fisted at the faux fur and you pulled with all your might to no avail. 

   He swatted you away as though you were a pesky fly and reached over to turn the light of the lamp on. You glowered at him and stood, wrapping the blanket around your arm and pulling upwards. Your arm strained to its capacity but the man on the floor didn’t budge. Only turned his back to you and shut his eyes. You reached over yourself and flipped the switch of the lamp, once again immersing yourself in the comforting darkness. 

   Bucky stiffened and opened his eyes then turned and froze you in your spot with his stare. He reached around and lit the lamp, slowly retracting his arm and daring you to turn it off again. So you did.

   He yanked the blanket from your grasp and threw you back onto the bed, bringing light into the room. “Light stays on,” he growled.

   “No! You’ve had your goddamn way since you stepped foot into this room. Light goes off and I get the blanket!” You shouted, not concerned about anyone else hearing considering the room was soundproof.

   “No. You get the bed so I get the blanket. Tell me how that doesn’t make sense,” he countered.

   You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it did, in fact, make sense. The floor here was wooden and clearly uncomfortable, plus he hadn’t even argued about the bed situation. 

   You retreated, “Fine, light still goes off,”

   “No,” 

   “Yes,” 

   Silence fell between the two of you but you weren’t budging. Barnes had faced plenty of monsters, he could handle the dark. 

   “I need the noise to fall asleep,” he admitted and it was then you could hear the slight hum the bulb emitted.

   You didn’t speak for a while but reared back and pulled out your phone, “What do you want to listen to?” You scrolled through a few sounds you had stored on your phone, “We’ve got: nature sounds, frequencies, guided meditations, etc. You name it, but I’m not sleeping with this forsaken light on,”

   Bucky studied you, his expression changing a mile a minute but the one of indifference conquered, “Rain,” 

   You nodded once and selected the audio, placing the phone face up on the nightstand and turning the light off for the last time. Hopefully. You hunkered down into the thin mattress and reached down, grasping at the thick blanket. When you pulled, there was some give. He’d let you get just enough needed to cover your body if you laid at the very edge and your hand hovered in the air when you laid your arm over the side.

   Minutes flew by with your eyes shut and the exhaustion slithered over your body but your mind ran wild with the events from earlier. You tried not to get angry or sad or . . . bothered. Your breathing deepened when you began to succumb to your body’s fatigue and you drifted inch by inch into the welcoming void lulling your name.

   You didn’t hear when he shifted, only managed to register the faint tracing of his fingertips on your hand before finally giving out.

   You weren’t sure what time it was when you opened your eyes for the first time that night. This regularly happened. You’d wake up multiple times during the night to shift positions or throw off the sheets, no matter how insignificant the desire, your body always found a way to wake you for it.

   You opened your eyes slowly to a hazy vision and blinked at the sitting figure on the floor, “Bucky?” You croaked, bringing a hand up to wipe at your face, “What time is it?”

   “It’s almost one, go back to sleep,”

   “What are you doing?” You persisted, ignoring his demand and sitting up slowly, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

   “Couldn’t,” 

   A heartbeat. Then another. And another. He didn’t care to elaborate.

   “Do you want the bed?” You offered, stretching yourself out and already placing yourself down on the floor, “It’s too hot up there, anyway,”

   His attention turned to you for the first time but you’d already began closing your eyes, not really having the energy to argue with him. You could hear shuffling from his spot and the ground disappeared below you, strong hands grasping your body and lifting you up to place you gently back onto the cot.

   “I prefer the floor,” he insisted, wrapping the blanket around you, “Besides, you’re a horrendous liar,”

   You didn’t hold back the singular chuckle, your haze still enveloping you. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

   He sat at the foot of the bed, his hand hovering over your leg in hesitation, “It’s complicated.” He dropped his hand to his side.

   “Isn’t the rain helping?” you mumbled, your sight now adjusting to the dark.

   “Yes,”

   “Then what?” 

   “I just . . . don’t want to wake you,”

   “Well, I’m already awake if that makes you feel better,” you jeered, a small smile forming on your lips.

   “It doesn’t,”

   “Nothing does,” you retorted, the inevitable annoyance you always felt when conversing with him already made its way up into your tone.

   He scoffed and stood from the bed, placing himself in the same spot on the floor with his head leaned up against the wall and his arm resting on his perched knee. 

   “Oh, so now you can’t handle a little attitude,” your tone came out incredulous, “You didn’t have any issues earlier when you blamed me for that guy’s escape. Which, he didn’t even get to do, might I add,”

   “I was projecting,” he replied, gaze still focused on the door opposite to him.

   You blinked, “Are you so tired that you’re actually admitting to being a dick?”

   “I know I can be a dick, but you threw yourself straight into the line of fire twice today. So I don’t really give a shit if I was mean to you,”

   “I only did that because you almost got shot twice today. Don’t take your anger out on me for your incompetence. Just say ‘thank you’ and move on already,”

   “Incompetence?” His head jerked in your direction. “What was incompetent was that you couldn’t keep yourself composed,”

   You sat up. “What in the hell are you talking about? My behavior is what got our target to basically give himself up to us! It was me that trapped him, not you!” His composure tensed and you crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re just mad your dick got hard so if anything you’re the one who couldn’t keep their compos-” His hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the mattress before you could finish your sentence.

   “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you, his face mere inches from yours.

   “Why?” You spoke hoarsely around his tightening grip, “Does the Big Bad Wolf not like that he was turned on? Who’s the prude now?”

   “Turned on?” He spat, his free hand resting by your head to cage you in, “You think what you did earlier turned me on?”

   You grasped at the hand around your throat and pried slightly to speak, “Fight me or fuck me, Barnes. But stop lying to yourself, it’s getting old,”

   The room seemed to freeze over and Bucky paused. His hesitation was enough to elicit the fire from earlier and your legs squirmed a little underneath him. God, you hoped he chose the latter.

   Then his lips crashed against yours. 

   You squeaked at the sudden onslaught but threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter against you. He dropped when you intertwined your legs, his full weight pressing against you deliciously. You ground up against him, your core aching from the previous hours and the small friction elicited a moan from the both of you. 

   “So impatient,” he scolded, bringing the hand from around your throat down to your hips and pressing you into the bed. “What a whore,”

   His breath danced along your cheek and you mewled at his words. Gods, he was going to be the death of you. Or the beginning. 

   You breathed in deeply, his sandalwood scent intoxicating you in a manner that alcohol never could. When you drank, you were just drunk. But when you took a sip from the tall glass that was Bucky, it brought you to life. Your body sang melodies wherever you were plastered against each other and your skin burned with need.

   Touch me, your body screamed, touch me.

   “Fuck off,” you groaned and Bucky jerked your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to scavenge.

   The goosebumps that danced across your skin when he ran his warm tongue up from the curve of your neck to the bottom of your ear brought an arrogant smirk onto Bucky’s face. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged when he reached a particularly sensitive spot that had your legs shaking when he kissed it sloppily. 

   Your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and your breaths were short and rapid, your body betraying all forms of control you previously had over yourself. The hand that wasn’t residing in his hair trailed down his muscled arm and you gripped at the brawn this man possessed. His skin reminisced lightly of silk despite the rough texture of his hands. 

  The same hands that now made its way into your hair and tugged at the strands at the base of your neck, jolting your chin higher into the air. Your grip tightened around his biceps and the strength they emitted sent a pool rushing to your core. You continued hunting until you found the hem of his black, cotton shirt and you made your way up his taut abdomen. You let out a sigh and he jumped lightly at the sensation of your cool fingertips across his scorching skin. It was a nice contrast for him. 

   You gripped at the shirt and hastily ripped the cotton upward. Bucky broke away from his descent down to your chest to let you remove the fabric and you’d suddenly wished you’d turned the lights on first. He mimicked your action and tossed your shirt in a deserted corner of the room to potentially be abandoned. You gasped when the cold air of the room grazed upon the perked mounds of your breasts. 

   His lips returned to their spot on the dip of your neck and his tongue slithered down in between your breasts. Your breath hitched when his wet muscle made its way up to the apex of your chest. His right hand mirrored his tongue and swirled around your nipple, his teeth pulling eagerly every so often and you hissed at the delectable pain. Your eyes devoured the scene unfolding on your chest and you reached over to flick the light on, desperate for a clearer image.

   Bucky halted and his metal arm reached over to switch the light back off but you swatted his hand away and he backed up lightly, his irritation evident on his face.

   “I want to watch,” you grumbled and shifted up to bring your lips back up to his. He let you. He pushed back lightly with his own lips and leaned in sync with your movements. He parted his mouth slightly and you followed suit, letting him lead his way into yours with the same muscle he’d just had flicking across your breasts.

   The light went off.

   You pushed him away and shot towards the switch but metal met your wrist firmly enough to keep you in place. “Bucky.” You wrestled against his hold and turned your full attention back to the figure hovering above, “I want to see you,” 

   Despite the darkness, you noticed his mouth twitch but his grip on your wrist remained solid. You sprawled back onto the bed and wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down onto you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips onto yours. You broke apart, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. “I want to see you,” 

   He didn’t move, only scanned your face over a few times and you brought him back down into a kiss. This one wasn’t like before. This one was warm, soft, patient. A ballet compared to its previous mosh pit. He danced along with you, an admission hidden somewhere in his tenderness.

   You hadn’t realized you’d been freed of his hold until you were wrapping that arm over his shoulder and the sound of a light humming began.

   “Fucker,” you jeered and the previous gentleness dissipated.

   “Shut up,” he ordered, pinning you back onto the bed and resumed his ministration on your breasts.

   The moan slipped past your lips at the sight and your chest heaved upwards, desperate for more stimulation. You licked your lips at how his mouth encased your nipple, his tongue flicking against the perked skin and you dropped your head back, shutting your eyes. You centered all of your attention anywhere that his bare skin touched your body and rubbed your aching clit against his v-line. 

   Your chest was pressed against the mattress before you could register what happened and the hard smack that met your ass evoked a yelp. Bucky pressed fully against your backside and he ground his dick down into your ass. He groaned at the sensation and you raised your ass onto him. You yelped again when Bucky ripped your leggings down and smacked the exposed skin on your ass.

   “Try something like that again and I’ll gag you around my cock ‘til you’re crying,” he growled, “Understood?”

   You nodded, wide-eyed and a mewling mess from the threatening promise of this God. 

   “Good girl,” he cooed, rubbing at the raw skin. “Now stay still for Daddy,”

  Bucky’s hand lingered on your reddening ass and the mattress dipped when he shifted to your side. He traced gentle circles onto your backside and pressed his lips on your shoulder blade, the butterfly kisses making their way down towards your spine and then lower. Your breathing grew uneven from the sheer amount of restraint you displayed. Your grip on the edge of the bed tightened when his tongue dragged from the point where your thigh and ass met all the way up to the bottom of your spine.

   “Fuck,” You shuddered, white-knuckling the blanket beneath you.

   Your skin blazed when you were met with another harsh slap. You mewled at the sensation, loving the fire that spread across your flesh and relaxed when his metal hand cooled the area. 

   Then his teeth bit into the cooling flesh and you jerked away despite yourself. Bucky tsked lowly and you chuckled at the hint of fear sprouting in your chest; you did not want to see whatever sinister expression resided on his face. 

   A strong hand gripped the roots of your hair and hauled you up. You followed his direction and knelt onto the ground between Bucky’s sprawled out legs, settling in your new position.

   “Oh, Doll,” he chastised, “you were so close,”

   “That shouldn’t count,” you retorted while Bucky pulled the blanket off the bed and lifted you up with his metal arm, shoving the barrier between your knees and the hard ground.

   “But it does.” His hands dove into his underwear and sprung his cock out onto your lips. “Now get to work,”

   Your eyes widened at the sight before you and you had to physically hold back from gulping. You were ashamed to admit your mouth watered in anticipation. You lifted your hands from his sculpted thighs and wrapped them around his length, enveloping just the tip past your parted lips. Bucky sighed and twitched in your mouth.

   You welcomed him in fully, or as much as you could anyway, and got straight to work, not bothering to act abashed at your desire. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you leaned into him until he hit the back of your mouth but you continued on, gagging around him when he’d gotten inside your throat. Bucky groaned when your throat tightened around him and he threw his head back, using his flesh hand to guide you up and down his shaft, showing you what he liked and didn’t. 

   “Fuck, Doll,” he groaned, “Just how I imagined your mouth would feel,”

   You pulled off him to comment when he shoved you all the way down to the hilt and you threw your hands up onto his thighs to hold yourself back. He used his metal arm to hold himself up and thrusted up into your salivating mouth desperately. He continuously hit the back of your throat and thick saliva coated his cock. Just as he promised, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and he didn’t stop until your cheeks were drenched in the liquid.

   You let your jaw hang open, your tongue no longer swiveling around meticulous spots that you knew would make his legs buckle. No, you let him have the reigns. Let him fuck your mouth ‘til your throat grew bruised and jaw ached with fatigue. You committed his cries of pleasure to memory, the sounds euphoric to your ears. 

   He lifted his head and stared down at you with half-closed eyes. He was in heaven and you knew it. He watched you, how the tears trailed down, how your hands gripped at his thighs, how you stuck out your tongue just as you’d made it to the base of his cock to lick his balls in the most intoxicating way. Fuck. You were the intoxicating one. You brought out this side of him. This carnal desire that became him until he’d had to step out of the room just to compose himself. And he didn’t like being out of control. That’s why he always kept you at an arm’s distance.

   But now, watching as you sat between him with your mouth agape like the good girl that you were for him, he knew he’d never deny himself this pleasure again. Especially since you were so fucking good at it.

   He groaned, pulling you off his cock and grabbed tightly at your cheeks, nearly pinching your mouth together. “Tongue out.” He growled, waiting for your compliance.

   Your jaw ached with exhaustion but you managed to stick out the wet muscle as he pulled you closer into him and watched when he parted his lips above you, letting the saliva trail down from his mouth into yours. 

   “Swallow,” he ordered.

   But it was already done, and you left your mouth hanging open for more.

   “Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky grumbled, putting his face right up against yours and feeding you once again; this time with a sloppy kiss that coated both your mouths in saliva.

   He brought you up from the floor and tossed you onto the bed before settling between your legs. The excitement in your eyes grew and he indulged in every minute of it. Bucky’s hand trailed down from your lower abdomen right above your pubic bone and pressed his palm into your neglected clit. The cry you let out was the unholiest thing he’d ever heard. 

   He slid his finger under the waistband of your underwear and flitted his gaze back up to your eyes, “Can I?”

   You nodded eagerly, dumbfounded that he would even ask and fought the temptation to grab your phone from the nightstand and record everything that was about to unfold. 

   At the first nod, Bucky slid your underwear down your legs and made a show of bringing the material up to his face. Your own went red hot and you hid behind your hands, poking through every millisecond to shamefully watch. He threw the panties into his open duffel and you squirmed in anticipation.

   “Remember the rules?” Bucky asked, brow lifted and already descending to your inner thigh.

   You nodded again.

   “I need to hear it, Doll,” he mumbled, kissing the inner part of your thigh, each placement closer and closer to where you needed him most.

   “Yes,” you whimpered out, “I remember the rules,”

   Bucky wanted to dive right in, he really did, but the way you sprawled yourself out so vulnerable for him, it incited a new pace that he wanted to follow. So, he did. He looked at you for a few moments, watched how the anticipation danced in your eyes, how your legs shook in wait and how you were already so goddamn wet for him.

   “This all for me?” he teased, mesmerized at your desire for him.

   You dropped a hand down to your side, near where his hands were wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place - and against his face. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

   You nodded sheepishly and when he lifted an eyebrow in mock confusion you said, “You. Just you,”

   Like music to his ears. Just him. You weren’t for anyone else. He thought he felt his heart palpitate.

   He lowered himself down to your core and kissed your lip, drawing a desperate plea from you. You couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t deal with the teasing. You were wet enough, needy enough, ready enough to take him, all of him. You’d been ready damn near the moment you first laid eyes on his arrogant smirk.

   “Buck - please,” you cried, drawling out the final word.

   The first kiss placed upon your soaked cunt erupted a sigh of relief and you laid back on the pillow, your eyes closed and mind gone with the sensation of those sloppy kisses blessing your needs. He flattened his tongue on your lips and licked upwards, stopping when your hips twitched into his mouth.

   “Sorry!” You apologized, fighting the desire to grind into his wet muscle. He’d just gotten started and you certainly didn’t want it to end so soon.

   He lifted his gaze up to you and you bit into your fist at the view, using the extremity to hold back your moans. He flicked his attention down again and repeated his motion, lapping at your fluids ‘til his beard was soaked in it. He shook his head into your cunt and his nose rubbed along your clit. The mewling that left your mouth urged him on and when you felt his muscle prodding at your entrance you threw your head back.

   “Please, Bucky.” You begged, bringing a hand up to tease your nipple.

   He prodded some more, his tongue gliding up from your clit and back down to your entrance, poking through enough to frustrate you. He wanted you to break for him. To lose all composure and control and just let him. He wanted you to submit to him but it wasn’t just that, it was more that he wanted to destroy you for any future experience you may have without him. He wanted you to come back to him, to need him, to beg for him and leave you with the understanding that nothing - no one - could compare to him. He wanted you. To himself. 

   So, when he could no longer refrain and had to use his metal arm to hold your hips down from squirming beneath him, he slipped two thick, rough fingers into your begging cunt. And the sound you emitted caused that carnal instinct to claw at the barriers caging it in.

   Your hand shot down, tangling itself into his hair and pushing him harder against you. He allowed it. Your thighs held him in place, crushing him with your soft skin and he groaned at the warmth you gave off. You pulled your hand away from your mouth and grabbed at his metal one resting on your pubic bone, pulling it up to your chest and wrapping his fingers on the sensitive bud for him to tease. He slowly retracted from your chest and brought it back down onto your hips and you huffed in annoyance. You looked down at Bucky but his eyes were shut, completely engrossed in the feast before him. You bucked when his fingers glazed across that sensitive spot inside your velvety walls.

   “There!” You cried, your fist tightening in his hair when the all-too-familiar wave of ecstasy began to pool together, waiting for its release.

   Bucky complied, dragging the pads of his fingers up against that spot over and over again. Your legs caged him in tighter as his tongue swirled over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves and you cried out at the way your body tensed.

   “Fuck,” you cried, your hands desperately grasping onto Bucky’s metal wrist and tugging at the roots of his hair. Bucky’s groan of pleasure was what tipped you over the edge.

   You gasped when the pool building released, your body shaking with euphoria and the flood crashed down onto you. And apparently, onto Bucky as well. He pulled his mouth away but continued rubbing at your clit when warm liquid squirted onto his face and his expression of surprise mirrored your own.

   When Bucky looked up at you, your face burned with embarrassment and you threw your head back, using your hand to cover your countenance. Not to mention the sight of him with your juices all over his mouth was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed.

   Bucky chuckled at your sheepish apology and removed your hand from your face, bringing his soaked mouth up to yours and having you taste yourself. You devoured each other, your arms wrapped tightly around the other, pulling so fiercely at the innate desire to become one in shared pleasure. He could feel his pride swell at your hidden confession. You’d never squirted before and he was lucky enough to be the one to give you that experience for the first time. 

   You clawed at him, divulging in the warmth his body radiated and intoxicating yourself in everything that was Bucky. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. It was nearly too much.

   His hand trailed up to your gaping mouth and he inserted his fingers, “Clean them,” he ordered.

   Your hand gripped his wrist and pulled his fingers deeper into your mouth, never breaking eye contact with him, loving the way he ate up everything he was seeing. You noticed the way he swallowed.

   He retracted his hand and wrapped it gently behind your head so you were resting on him. He brought his full weight down onto your body and a warmth emanated in your chest when he brought his lips up against your forehead, each kiss closer and closer to your lips until they met their destination. When you parted your mouth against his, it wasn’t merely an action of carnal desire, it was like you were exchanging life forces. Merging and meeting in a manner that had your body exploding and crying out for more of the faint familiarity. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

   Bucky looked down between your bodies at where you were about to connect before staring back up at you, taking you in as if he would never have this opportunity again. His thumb brushed your cheek and came to a rest on your bottom lip. “Ready?”

   You chuckled, “Fuck me,”

   He shoved inside in one clean motion and a breath of pleasure slid past both of your lips.

   “Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening slightly around your neck and he pulled out slowly then shot back inside and you moaned.

   You were still so sensitive from your previous climax that every brush against your clit sent you into a whirlwind of pleasure, the sensations shooting through every nerve in your body. 

   “Bucky,” you whined when his pace quickened and the sheer force of his thrusts drove you deeper into euphoria.

   He filled you just right, his girth and length impressive and you wondered why you hadn’t tried to screw him earlier. He slid past your tight walls, each thrust causing the room to echo with the sounds of skin slapping and moans of ecstasy. 

   He kept his actions controlled, not wanting to build up to something so intense just for it to fall short and end fast. No. Despite how good you felt wrapped around his aching and swollen cock, despite how warm and welcoming you were, how you spread yourself out for him to consume, he had to leash himself. This was going to be just as good for you as it was for him. 

   He kissed you one last time before gripping the back of your knees and bringing your thighs up to your chest, a shout of praise falling off your lips. He was drunk on the sight of his cock going in and out of your cunt and he threw his head back with a groan.

   “What a fucking pretty pussy,” he breathed out and you whimpered, biting your lip at the welcome profanities.

   At this angle, he was fucking against your g-spot and using his pubic bone to rub against your clit and watching the thin layer of sweat sheen off his skin was all too much to keep yourself put together. His eyebrows scrunched together and you caught him taking in your form, watching how your pleasure displayed itself on your face for him to bear witness to. Only him.

   He growled at the intrusion of thoughts that came to him. He pictured someone else in his position, someone else witnessing you so vulnerable and open to them, someone else fucking you and making you beg for them. It disgusted him. He brought his torso down and latched his teeth to your neck, biting down hard enough to have you tearing up.

   “Mine,” he growled into your ear and lulled his head forward when you tightened around him.

   A sinister smirk came to his face and he licked the shell of your ear, your breathy moans feeding him, “You like that?” He asked, pistoling further into your cunt and you shouted at the increase of pace, “You like when I tell you who you belong to?”

   Your mouth hung agape and the one arm wrapped around his shoulder pulled him closer to you, your desperation for his warmth taking control. “Fuck . . . off,” you hissed between breaths.

   He pulled out and yanked you up by your hair, twisting you around and pressing your torso into the wall but keeping your ass propped up for him to admire. You hissed at the pain when a sharp smack met your ass and your hands gripped at the wall for any way to ground yourself and prevent from becoming putty in his hands.

   Another hard smack met your ass and you lurched forward to get away from the sting. Bucky kept your head pinned to the cement, his hand holding your cheek from scraping the wall but applying a pressure that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth. 

   You moaned at the intrusion in your pussy and he plummeted in and out, a mix of your grunts and groans bouncing around the room. His pace constantly changed. One second it was fast, the next it was slow but filling, going so far as to hit your cervix a few times and leave you a crying mess under his hold. Your shoulder scraped along the wall and you fought to push away only to have your chest slammed harder against the cement.

   You brought a hand out, reaching behind yourself and grasping for Bucky’s hip, pushing him deeper into you when he slowed. Your nails dug into his flesh and the sound of his hiss shot straight to your core. 

   “What a goddamn whore,” he spat, bringing his teeth down onto your neck and you gripped at his hair.

   You laughed at his statement, “You’re the one that can’t get enough of this pussy. Why so desperate to claim it? Afraid I'll fuck someone else?” Bucky pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with vigor, causing you to flinch

   He stopped his thrusts altogether, “My patience only goes so far, Doll,” he threatened, tugging at your hair and you bit back a cry, “Choose your words wisely,”

   You nodded hastily, the rough texture of the wall digging into your cheek and splitting skin. You wriggled up against him to continue moving but he retracted completely and flipped you over so he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him.

   “Move,” he ordered, his hands digging bruises into your waist.

   You leaned over, pressing your chest against his to lift your hips up and down on him but he pushed you back up and held your arms behind your back to keep you in place. You whimpered but the cry quieted when you rubbed your clit against him and your pussy clenched at the friction. You moaned out a breathy fuck and swiveled your hips around his, noting how much deeper he filled you in this position.

   “Buck-” you huffed, eyes glued to the glistening abs beneath you. “I’m gonna cum,”

   “Already?” He jeered, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

   You’d lost all energy to sneer at him, your focus solely on how the sensation grew and began pooling in your cunt. “Cock . . . so good,” you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself from melting into him.

   “What was that, Doll?” He stilled your movements and you groaned in annoyance.

   You wriggled in his hold and you could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was fighting to keep control as well. You leaned over him, your lips hovering over his, “Mine,”

   His grip flew to the back of your neck and he crashed your lips onto his, giving you full reign again. You bounced your hips on his dick, slamming down vigorously and rubbing your clit in effect. It didn’t take long for your climax to build again.

   “’M gonna . . .” you whispered and Bucky placed you back up, gripping your hips and swiveling you around how you were earlier.

   “Cum, Doll,” he allowed, “Cum all over this cock,”

   You cried out, your toes curling as the dam in your core snapped and your climax washed over you. You hadn’t realized your fingers were intertwined with Bucky's until you came back down from your high, your chest heaving for breath.

   He sat up slowly and pressed his lips against your neck. “You’re beautiful,”

   Your body tensed at his words and you pulled away to give him a look of confusion. But he didn’t take his statement back, only slipped his hands around your back and gently placed you onto the bed, hovering over you.

   He moved with caution, like his gentleness might scare you off if he touched you too tenderly or stared too long in admiration. But he couldn’t help it, he did admire you.

   He spread your legs open and nestled between them, pushing into you slowly until your hips met and you both breathed out. His movements weren’t nearly as brutal as they were earlier, these thrusts were slow and deep and full of intention. He brought his torso down onto yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

   He ran his hand, the only one he allowed himself to touch you affectionately with, through your hair and stared down at you, waiting. His gaze shifted between your lips to your eyes and he ran his thumb delicately along your mouth.

   You looked at him then, really looked at him with fresh eyes and your heart leapt into your throat at the realization. “Kiss me,” you whispered and he lowered himself onto your lips, setting off an explosion in your chest.

   “I’m yours,” he whispered, not able to bring himself to look at you, “I’ve been yours,”

   You opened your mouth to respond but he silenced you with a deep thrust and a moan erupted instead. He quickened his pace, watching where you connected and pushed deeper and harder, your cries of pleasure driving him. He had to fuck you, he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t make love to you, just fuck. That’s it. He couldn’t allow himself to replay your look of shock at his confession, though the scene would surely be on loop for the next few days until he could get over it. Just fuck. Nothing more. Not with that look of disbelief on your face.

   He held himself up with his forearms but you pressed him against you and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “Harder,” you whispered and he complied.

   He groaned when your tits bounced and brought his mouth to a nipple, the faint taste of sweat lingering on your skin. You brought his metal hand up to your chest and made him grip the flesh there but he pulled it back and placed it beside your head instead.

   “Bucky,” you whimpered and grabbed his hand again, bringing his open palm up to your lips and placing delicate kisses on the metal. “You can feel with it, right?”

   He nodded, hesitance sprawled on his face.

   “Then touch me,” you urged, bringing the hand down between your bodies and pressing the cold metal against your clit, “Feel me,”

   His brows furrowed slightly but the look of your certainty forced him to dismiss his own perceptions of his body; or rather, that arm. And when he began rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves the expression on your face made him hate it a little less. Only a little.

   You stared up at him, his pace growing erratic and sloppy and you knew he was close. “You wanna cum?” 

   He nodded, his hot breath coming out haggard and strained. You placed your hand on his cheek and brought him up to your kiss.

   “Then cum,” 

   He shook his head, “You first,” he swirled his finger around your swollen clit and you gasped at the force of his thrust.

   Your body tensed and you centered all your focus on his ministrations, “A little more pressure,” you directed and he quickly found a pressure that had you wobbling in the knees. “Close,” you murmured, gripping Bucky’s side and bringing your lips up to his neck to pepper the skin there.

   He groaned and judging by the way his dick twitched inside you, you knew he wasn’t far behind. 

   “Bucky,” you whispered, pulling his attention towards you and his gaze brought you closer to the edge, “I’m yours,”

   He blinked and his pace faltered for half a beat. He examined your facial expression, like he didn’t believe the words you’d spoken. Not like he couldn’t believe them, but like you’d said them just to appease him. 

   You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to center yourself in the haze of this fucking. “Yours,” you repeated, all the emotion residing in your chest poured into the singular word. 

   And then he was back to drilling you into the mattress, a new vigor fueling his thrusts. You cried out and Bucky pressed his sweaty torso flat against your own and it felt like the essence, the being, in your chest intermingled with his own and all the climaxes you’d previously experienced couldn’t hold a match to the flame, the intensity, the rawness of the one that washed over the both of you in that moment.

   Bucky moaned out, his hips bucking into yours and you rode out both of your highs. The sensation consuming and overwhelming and welcome on both ends as it flooded through your bodies, meeting at your point of contact.

   His arms flexed above you with the ferocity of his climax and the display had you writhing beneath him, already desperate for more.

   “Buck,” you whispered when his breathing evened out after he collapsed onto you.

   He didn’t respond, afraid it had all been a dream, a trick, despite still being inside you. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the perfection of this moment. What if you’d only said that to get him to finish faster? What if you’d only fed him what he wanted to hear? What if-

   “Buck,” you repeated, pulling him from his daze and he lifted his head only slightly. You gripped his chin lightly and forced him to look you in the eye. “You’re . . . mine?”

   He wanted to shake his head, to tell you that he got caught up in the moment but instead he said, “Yours,” because he knew anything else would be a lie and he was tired of lying.

   You studied him and nodded, “Yours,” you stated, already rolling your eyes from the smirk forming on his face, “Unfortunately,”

   He brought your face to his and planted a tender kiss on your lips. He started shifting his position and grabbed the underwear he’d been wearing earlier before pulling out and using the cloth to clean the mess pooling out of you. But not before taking a mental picture, of course. 

   After a few minutes of laying together, his hand playing with a few strands of hair, you felt the warm welcome of sleep beginning to drag you into its embrace. You opened your eyes groggily and looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

   “I know about your night terrors,” you whispered and his actions halted momentarily before returning to brush through your hair, “I hear you sometimes. And I understand why you don’t want to go to sleep but,” you sat up slowly and placed the thick blanket down on the floor, dragging the pillow down with you and patting the open space beside you, “you should rest. I’ll be here to calm you or stay up with you. Whichever one you need,”

   He didn’t move at first, his ears drowning out any thought he could have while processing what you’d said. He’d stayed silent so long you’d thought you’d crossed a line.

   “I can always sleep on the bed if you’d prefer, though,”

   Bucky shook himself from his thoughts and edged closer to the floor, slowly descending into the available space and wrapping the blanket around the both of you as much as he could. “No,” he said, “I want you here,”

   You hummed in response and snuggled into his waiting arms, lightly wrapping your own around him, making sure to kiss the part of himself he hated the most before fatigue swept you up into its clutches. Bucky followed soon after. 

[blzzrdstryr]

Chrysalis

Yandere!Albedo x gn!reader

Wordcount:2115

CW:Yandere themes

Working for Albedo isn’t that bad - the payment is good, the knowledge he provides is even better - a chance to delve into exclusive alchemical research with a widely acknowledged genius is a far more valuable award than any amount of mora or jewels could ever be. Said prodigy isn’t an awful person to work with either - he’s polite and well mannered, careful not to offend anyone even if his words can be cold and cutting sometimes. Most of the time Albedo is a pleasant company to be around, if one would turn a blind eye to his quirks.

For instance, he has a weird and frankly unnerving habit of staring at you - his teal eyes track your littlest movements as you set up an alchemical apparatus and prepare needed solutions. At first you thought he was overseeing you, checking if you had made any mistake as a fledgling alchemist, yet this hypothesis was quickly disproved when you caught him gazing off working hours. You never voiced your complaints - you wanted to keep your job and study, and maybe he is too socially blind to see how his behavior could be received by others.

Today would also be a great example of an alchemist's lack of tact - he requested you accompany him everywhere for the last few weeks, taking you from the cold heights of Dragonspine to sunny and bustling streets of Mondstadt. You two are sitting in the corner of his laboratory designed for rest and food and share a meal: two portions of his favorite fish, despite being nothing more than the employer and employee or teacher and student.

Albedo doesn’t seem to get or mind what kind of rumours he causes with this seemingly blatant favouritism before you, no he looks as calm as usual as he plunges into the dish with fork and knife.

“[First]”, he says, after the first bite: “Have the aches stopped bothering you?”, a hint of concern and something else. Two or three weeks ago you developed a strange soreness in the different parts of your body - wrists, neck, heart, legs - it would appear suddenly, burning and throbbing and making you gasp, leaving you tired and nauseous afterwards. No one could find the source of the problem, not even Albedo, yet after some time these far from pleasant sensations got subdued, easier to bear and endure.

His hand reaches for your left wrist, thumb caressing the skin, and he pulls it closer to his face, eyes examining the sore spot. You don’t protest, stunned by his sudden action.

“Hm, that’s”, he mumbles, more to himself than you: “that’s good”, he concludes, letting go of your limb.

“What’s good? Did something change?” you inquire, instantly forgetting to take offense at his grabbing.

“You could say that”, Albedo ambiguously says and returns to his fish. You ask the alchemist what he meant, but all you get are even vaguer answers and long silence in the end, as he finishes his meal and nudges you to start your own sunshine sprat.

In the end your questions remain unacknowledged, as Albedo leaves displaying you to accompany him. Surprisingly he heads for the gardens instead of the library, his step light and fast. “Master Albedo” you start, seeing that alchemist is in his creative mood again: “shouldn’t you bring an easel or sketchbook with you?”

“No, [First], I don’t intend to draw, not now. This walk is for me to get some inspiration”, Albedo quickly replies, still walking ahead: “In this time of year the environment changes so rapidly, it provides a mind with a lot of good ideas. You should come with me too, alchemy is a science of change, creation and destruction and nature is better at these three aspects than any of us”. He adds, seemingly sensing the next question you would ask.

He walks near the bushes, teal eyes focused on the blooming fragrant flowers, before he squats, pushing some of the wigs back.

“[First]”, he turns his head in your direction: “you should come and see”. You comply, curious what has caught Albedo’s attention, squatting near him and looking at one of the inner branches usually hidden by others.

It’s an ordinary dark cocoon. You almost turn your head again, before the slightest of movements catches your attention - it’s an insect trying to break out. Chrysalis cracks and deforms as a fledgling butterfly makes way past it’s confines. One second and it stretches its wings, revealing a vibrant blue coloration, the next it leaves it’s former cell entirely, elegantly soaring into the air, it’s azure wings lazily flapping, as it makes its way to the other bush.

“Fascinating”, Albedo breathes out, eyes still on the disappearing figure of the insect: “It transformed to such a great extent”.

You hear a hint of excitement in his voice - he wants to share his thoughts or knowledge then - and nod, prompting him to continue.

“Did you know that a larva needs to literally dissolve itself to reach the next stage of its life? After caterpillar finishes its cocoon, it produces enzymes that turn most of its tissue into a liquid matter and only after that does it rebuilds into an entirely new form”, he turns his gaze back to you, usually cold and thoughtful eyes now warm and dreamy: “Sometimes, I think humans are meant to metamorphose too”.

“How so?” you ask, tilting the head.

“Humans, despite all complexity and intelligence, are still fragile creatures. They’re prone to sickness and ailments and in the end old age ends those who managed to evade death before. Wouldn't it be better if one could go through metamorphosis, be reborn free from pain and hunger and constant threat of passing away? Those humans could live on forever and dedicate themselves to the higher cause without having to worry about dying and suffering".

You raise eyebrows, surprised by the sudden “outburst” - Albedo, despite his partially philosophical nature, has never shared his inner thoughts so freely, not to you at least. He, either out of embarrassment or deep contemplation, shifts his eyes somewhere behind you, and you turn back, following his eyes. He looks at the statue of Barbatos.

Tall and proud, it looks magnificent in the day’s sunlight, golden rays making it glow and shine with the fairness of the marble. Looking at this epitome of unchanging vision, you suddenly get an answer to Albedo’s thoughts and you voice it out the same second:

“Wouldn’t it negate the meaning of life then? Nature breeds diversity - the reason why we have so many flowers is because some kinds aren't adapted to particular conditions and so they change, producing entirely new types of plants. Eternal and undying beings, unconcerned with the earthly matters would have no need to reproduce and pass on its features to the next generation, depriving the world of thousand possible combinations. No new life would be created if the old one could be perfectly sustained".

"That's how you see it", Albedo replies, placing a now empty husk of the cocoon inside your palm - the testament of the nature’s miracle, the testament of one's ability to change: “I’ve witnessed many wonderful sights for today”, he adds, still looking at you, surrounded by flowers and flying butterflies, light breeze playing with your hair and sun illuminating your whole figure with a gentle golden glow.

You part with Albedo shortly after - he closes himself in the lab, before checking up on your sore spots again, quietly mumbling something to himself the whole time. You head for your house and open the alchemical textbook, studying it until late night. That place on the wrist slightly throbs at every movement.

Only when your eyelids fill up with lead and thoughts slow down from the general fatigue you allow yourself to head for the bed, falling asleep the second your head touches the pillow. You see phantasmagorical dreams - of you being a bulging and large larva, spending days simply eating green leaves, until a strange urge overcomes your entire being and you start to build something - a cocoon. Now, surrounded by pitch black darkness you feel a burning sensation - enzymes, enzymes that will dissolve your tissue. Pain quickly escalates and you want to scream and cry, but you can’t - you’re an insect you don’t have vocal glands or tear ducts to do so. Who could have known that butterflies suffer so much?

You writhe and squirm, caged by your liquifying body and hard chrysalis around you and you are in so much agony you want to die.

And then you wake up. All sweaty and distressed you grab at your wrist - it hurts so much, your entire body is on fire, it seems that you have another episode of that strange soreness. You quickly rise to your feet, snatching the painkillers from the nightstand and downing them with a gulp of water. As medicine begins it’s work you lay in the bed again, ready to fall asleep and forget the midnight pains, as you see something that makes your breath hitch and heartbeat fasten from fear.

A strange greyish white discoloration on your wrist in the same place that used to throb this evening. You touch it and it leaves a dry white imprint on your fingers, it also doesn’t have any strange smell.

You rise and quickly dress up, barely suppressed panic and anxiety dispelling the last remains of sleep. The walk towards the Favonius HQ’s is short, especially when you break into a sprint on the way. He is here, he is working into the night today. Quickly passing sleepy knights you climb on the second floor and almost run to one particular door, loudly knocking at it.

Just as you expected, there’s a sound of footsteps and soon a familiar voice asks: “Who is here?”.

“It’s me, master Albedo”, you say, feeling how the pain returns despite the painkillers taken: “you said to report if something changes, with my aches. It changed”.

The words you say and desperation accompanying them prompts alchemist to open the door, as he gestures you to come in, and shut the door as you do so:

“Strip”, he says, mind back to the analytical mode, you comply, feeling ashamed with every second Albedo continues to observe you: “Wait, there’s something on your neck”.

A cool touch to your skin, a short yelp, another burst of pain. You fall on your knees, blinded and deafened by sheer agony. Alchemist produces a distressed noise, walking up to your collapsed figure and carrying you to the nearby table.

He pushes alchemical apparatus away, turning the table into a makeshift bed, and gently lowers you down. “[First]”, his hand card through your hair, while the other nudges a mug with some brew to your lips: “There’s nothing to worry about, your metamorphosis progresses as it should be”.

“Metamorphosis.. What are you talking about?”, you ask, panic creeping into the question. Alchemist looks you straight into the eyes, an eerie smile blooming on his face as he hears it: "Isn’t it obvious? You're going to change and I will help you with that".

“Change?! Change into what?”

“Into a better version of human of course. Do you think I would let you get old or sick and die? You’re too dear to me to do that, you should live and experience a life free from human limitations”, for the first time in your life you’re terrified of him. Albedo always seemed so knowledgeable and calm to you, like a wise wizard from the childhood fairytales, yet now he looks mad and devoid of any humanity:“You shouldn’t worry about these stains, they will disappear once your transformation is complete. Those are just chalk you see, a side effect of your tissues changing over the weeks”.

“When did.. When did you start it?”, you croak out, sensing the agony returning and growing again. It hurts so much I can barely think.

“Dragonspine. You were eating with me”.

You want to insult and accuse him, yet another wave of pain renders you speechless, short huffs and whimpers escaping you as tears start to stream down your face.

“I understand it can be very stressful to you, given how change of this scale is always carrying a great risk”, his voice adopts the same philosophical tone: “The purpose of cocoon is protection of the soon-to-be butterfly from the external harm and influence that could lead to other complications and we don’t want any of that”.

He cards his hand through your hair again, a mockery of a concern dyeing his next words: “You shouldn’t worry, I will be a good chrysalis to your metamorphosis”.

You black out from pain.

[sukirichi]

Bonten husbands messing up their child's haircut idk if you got this one cus my tumblr's acting up :(

Ran: panik. He's sURE he followed the tutorial correctly, but something must have gone wrong. After struggling to fix it he just accepts his fate and vacuums the carpet for the night. "Ran" "I know."

Rindou: Tried to impress you by doing it but it backfired. Waits for you to get home since he doesn't want to mess it up any more. Poor bby cries a lil and is so guilty, pls give him love🥺 "Care to explain?" "Not really"

Kaku: Internal screaming. There's no way this could've happened. Not to him. Tries to fix it and does a pretty decent job but he knows he can't fool you "What happened to their hair?" "Iaccidentallymessedup"

Koko: The only reason he was doing this is bc he heard the other members fvked up their kids hair and tried to one-up them. Calls every professional in the area. Just for backup he bought a wig. "Why are there hairdressers in my home?" "That's a good question"

Sanzu: Desperately tries to save it but it only gets worse. In the end he acted like it all happened on purpose. Also made your favorite meal to distract from the hair. *Unimpressed Wife Noises* "iT dOEsn'T LoOK thAt bAD"

-✎

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS 😭💕

omg ran would definitely be very excited about it. he’s quite proud of his hairstyles from his youth up until his bonten self, so its almost hard to stop him from wanting to be the one to snip snip his kid’s hair. so daddy! ran stands there, proud and confident as youtube tutorials play in the background. but then it doesn’t turn out the way he likes, and his kid is speechless at the rather...questionable new look. as if things can’t get worse, you come home with a frown. “ran?” you gently pat his shoulder, the muscles under your touch slumping in defeat. and when he says yes, he knows it looks bad and he should’ve just went to professionals, you can’t have the heart to scold him on it ://

now see, rindou may look aloof or unbothered most times with a permanent lazy frown, but he does like the attention and praises you shower him with. he gets the idea one day to surprise you by cutting his kid’s hair so you won’t have to take him to the stylists this weekend. but his hands are shaking, his kid won’t stop fidgeting on the chair, and on top of the pressure of wanting to impress you, along with the fear of not pulling this off - it backfires. rindou doesn’t even try finishing the look his kid asked for before he’s giving them snacks to make up for the mistake. and when you get home, rindou begins to tear up. thankfully, you appreciate that its the thought that counts (though your kid didn’t have to suffer this heinous cut lmao) so you don’t push him too much to explain 🥺

kakucho refuses to believe it !! him, best daddy kakucho, messing up his kid’s haircut when he even practiced on so many wigs and watched more tutorials that it put ran’s effort to shame? him, best daddy kakucho, who was intensely focused and careful in everything he did yet it still turned out this way ?? poor bb is so shocked he can’t even form coherent sentences anymore

out of all of them, kokonoi is the most reassured he’s got this. he’s been styling his hair since he was a teen - he’s got this !! and just to prove a point that he’s the best daddy who won’t mess up his kid’s cut, he happily facetimes the other bonten members while a group of professional stylist supervise and nod in agreement at his techniques and swift cuts. don’t get him wrong though, there’s a number of wigs and professionals on standby if ever he messes up, giving him a perfect excuse that “its time for a break” before he ends the call. better safe than sorry, Koko tells himself, because alas, he ended up needing them after all 💀

sanzu - as insane and daring he may be - knows his limits and is most definitely aware how scary you can get if you see how he messed his kid’s haircut up. but ah, sanzu gives in when the other bonten members bribe mikey to order sanzu to at least try so all the bonten daddies could finally crown who is most deserving of the ‘best daddy award.’ he messes up though, which is expected, and there’s no more taking it back so he simply whisks you into the kitchen before you can hear your crying kid, your favorite meal prepared and kisses littered on your face. until your kid comes to greet you and your mouth falls agape at the mess. *cue unimpressed wife noises and defensive husband noises*

[bakugohoex]

So I saw your add calling for us Jean simps and I have an idea for Jean like having a crush on a medical helper or something that deals with medicine

“you could always kiss it better”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: fluff, season three spoilers, kissing

word count: 1900+

a/n: hi, you guys like my jean stuff so here’s some more

summary: in which jean falls in love with the medical helper who is a part of the survey corps

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

It was never a dull day in the survey corps, the injuries that came in after the scouting missions had been increasing ever since the uncovering of Eren being a titan. You had been brought along on every scouting mission always prepared to help the wounded and being almost like a daughter to Erwin gave you some perks. If you could call them that, after your parents had died, Erwin had took you in and here you were in the Survey corps having graduated with the 104th but being assigned to the medical area.

It was of course what you had always wanted to do but you had joined on a whim and now after a couple months of the hectic survey corps. You had settled in sort of, Jean and Armin had had to pretend to be Historia and Eren and it was chaotic to say the least. Being on the run was hassle and you missed everything even the scouting missions outside the walls.

The only thing that made being on the run somewhat enjoyable was the brown-haired flirt, he had always flirted with you when you were both cadets. Nobody having really known how close you and Erwin were until the ceremony of where you chose which regiment you wanted to join.

They had all seen you hug the tall blonde and utter confusion had erupted from them, you told them all about it and Jean and you had gotten even closer. His head would pop in and out of where you stayed after being separated from the main corps. You spent a lot of time with Erwin but after the whole Reiner issue, you and others had joined the Levi squad. Making your time with Jean become a lot more than you had ever anticipated.

He hated wearing the wig and you could almost hear him scowl from beside Levi.

“Behind us look out.” Levi spoke falling to the ground as a wagon with one horse and three men sat upon it taking the bait.

Sasha misspoke but quickly spoke over self, you and Mikasa crouched beside Levi before Mikasa got up and ran. You could almost sense Jean’s frustration and being Eren and second time, you all had followed and were brought to a larger building.

Whilst you and Mikasa peeked through the window you could see Jean and Armin with a man who looked to be groping the blond. You both flew back to Levi who looked uninterested as usual. He spoke to Mikasa and you, you had barely been paying attention to their conversation only hearing his message to the rest of the squad. Your main worry was Jean and how you felt for him always ending up tied up. All you wanted to do was hug the poor boy.

Before you watched over what was happening, staying beside Mikasa you and her both having been strong enough to get in the top ten. You both had always been competitors but now working together you were both prospering.

“If you get the first two guys, I’ll get the other two.” You muttered as four men approached the warehouse. She nods taking out her gear, before you took your own out. You heard the men talking about getting the accurate men before you both pranced on the men .

Having both been behind a wooden container as soon as they walked past you both jumped out, taking the back two, you quickly knocked one of them unconscious whilst Mikasa did the same. You heard a barrel being loaded, before you both knocked out the other two. Both Armin and Jena having gotten out of their own restraints. They tied the two men down before you grabbed one of them, holding him down whilst Mikasa spoke.

“Connie are these four really all of them?”

You heard his faint yeah from one of the windows, you had looked up at the boy as he continued, “no one else in the area.” But hadn’t realised the sound of the man underneath you getting his gun out. At the sound of it you turned but an arrow swooped past you hitting the gun. You looked up seeing Sasha on top of the wooden container.

“Move again, and you won’t like where the next shot hits.” She spoke putting the arrow already through the bow.

“Alright, first we get these guys secured.” Mikasa stood in front of you, both having heard Levi’s words prior. “Then we meet up with the captain.”

“What do you mean?” Armin questioned confused out of his mind.

“Those are his orders.” You answered having tied the man up in the rope, watching him fidget under you.

“I feel disgusting.” Jean mutters on top of a guy after having gotten out of the restraints.

“Are you hurt?” You ask seeing his pretty hair and face., you moved closer to him to make sure he was okay not paying attention to anybody else.

He shows you some cuts that needed some bandages which you had but that was it. Sitting him down you see as Mikasa paces back and forth, knowing you wouldn’t have time to help him now.

“You’ll be fine for a little bit.” You grab his arm helping him up.

“Yeah yeah, Y/n, don’t be too worried, I’ll survive.” You both jump out of the building with your gear soaring through the sky as you see Levi swing past.

“I hear shooting.” Sasha says to Connie, “from there.” She points left as you stood beside Jean.

“Do you think they ran into some trouble?” He speaks not looking at you.

You look forward, “It seems likely.” You pause about to speak looking at Mikasa, “the captain gave us a message, as of now, it’s not just titans.” You see the shock on their faces out of confusion, “we’re fighting humans too.”

“Huh, you don’t mean.” Jean questions but both you and Mikasa fly away from them, going to see the chaos that was occurring.

Everybody follows in tow before Connie notices them, “look there they are.”

You see a bloody Levi swing through following the wagon, before noticing him being chased by men. “What the hell is that?” The question that ran through all your heads came out from Jean’s mouth.

All watching the murder and chaos occurring, “follow the wagon.” Levi speaks, both you and Mikasa nodding, you had seen too many people killed in your life. To be immune to shock in these scenarios, hell you’d killed people yourself, but it was all in the name of justice.

Following Levi’s command as he spoke about how they were trained to kill people; you listened and knew that you’d have to kill even more people. Going with Levi and Mikasa whilst Jean and Armin went to secure the wagon. You knew how life and death worked, and how the world was kill or be killed. But you saw at how Jean had hesitated to kill the person and Armin doing it himself.

You’d have to talk to Jean about it, not wanting him to be overtly upset or guilty about it. You easily slashed through more people, before seeing the men gang up on Armin and Jean, grabbing Jean you took his out of the wagon making him miss their gun shots.

You and the rest of the squad were back in the warehouse where one of the men who you remembered from Trost was. As Levi spoke you bandaged him up, making sure to take care of his wounds. The cut on top of his arm being stitched up with ease, Levi had been speaking to Armin and Jean. The sound of how he talked about being a killer, you had stopped paying attention to the conversation making sure Levi was fine.

He gave a thanks before you moved onto Jean, wrapping the cuts closed he watched as your delicate fingers did all the work. He had been speaking about killing people and you knew that inside he was feeling even more guilty than he should have. You both watched as Levi went to the man who you remembered from Trost. “Are you okay?”

You spoke moving onto his side which had been knocked into the wall when you had grabbed onto him. “I could’ve killed her myself.”

You felt the boy, putting your hand on his side to feel if there was anything wrong. “Jean, murder, it takes a toll on people, but after a while life and death, it’s all the same.”

He looked down in shock at what you had said, “life and death.”

“I’ve seen a lot of it in my lifetime and I know I’ll see even more, by humans and titans, we’re all the same, its kill or be killed.” You coughed out before seeing a bruise, “I can’t fix a bruise.”

He nods before you turn to hear the conversation with Levi and the man, talking about a plan, before you could join them for the plan to take place. “Y/n.” It a whisper but you looked up to him with bright eyes.

“Thank you again, we’ve been through a lot and I guess you’re something consistent in my life.” You nod at the boy, not being able to form words. The intimacy you had felt when touching his waist had sent shoots of fireworks up your spine, but you hadn’t said anything. Being as professional as ever and worrying about Erwin.

As quick as the plan had been told, you had easily knocked out the men and gained two of the MP’s with the man from Trost who you had consistently forgotten his name. You all waited outside the doors of where the torture was occurring, Hanje barging through you saw a sadistically look to do with human torture.

“You’ll be the one to have to fix them up.” Sasha spoke out, you nodded hearing screaming coming from below.

Jean was still wary about the situation and Armin talked about being killers, you didn’t speak up knowing he still felt guilty and felt like a bad person. All you did was give a sympathetic look to the boy; you leaned your head against your arms before feeling Jean’s hands move through your hair.

You enjoyed the sensation, enjoyed his touch and you craved even more from him, “I think I got a scratch on my arm; can you have a look?” He mutters over the screams and shouts from the man downstairs.

“Let me have a look.” You get up, his fingers still in your hair, whilst looking at his other arm, you see the gash, “all I can do is bandage up, I don’t have everything I need.”

He smiles as you take him away from the others, you both go to a different room before you bandage his arm up, “you could always kiss it better.” He smirks out.

“You’re such an idiot.” You mutter but comply, bringing the bandage arm to your lips, you kiss the bandage before kissing his knuckles.

It wasn’t intentional but you had a feeling everything was about to turn to shit, he looked up at you, grabbing your face in his hands. You looked up at the boy, the silence was unsettling with both of you just looking up at each other. “I’d kill…” You tilt your head in confusion, “I’d kill if it meant protecting you.”

You smile at the boy, closing the gap as you felt his soft lips attack to yours. It was slow and soft, a comforting movement, where you moved in sync. It was filled with love and as he brought your closer with his hand grabbing onto the back of your neck, your own fingers rubbed circles on his cheek. It was perfect and you knew that even with the chaos approaching you both had each other. 

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world

[professorxsmokesweed]

What’s your opinion on the movie now that you’ve seen it?

oh boy.... what is my opinion! it's a terrible movie no one watch it is the short answer the long answer, which i am putting under a cut:

it's still a terrible movie! the plot.. the plot makes no sense! it is never explained! there's fucking ALIENS??? and i know. i know aliens exist and are involved in the comics. i know comics charles has an alien girlfriend at some point. they should not have been introduced this way!

i don't think we ever even got names for them? unless i missed them? i was just calling the main blonde one "alien bitch" the whole movie like what is going on..... moot found the answer thru google but i will be honest i forgot it like immediately and i know it was dumb as shit like verk or something

anyways. so right off the bat we got space shit and i was clearly supposed to be cool it just... wasnt to me probs cause the budget was $2 and they divided those $2 among paying the cast (having no budget it not a bad thing!!!! ive seen many good movies with no budgets!!! but here its like. they didnt care. also they gave the worst wig in the world to james.) im gonna move into characters now cause thats where my biggest grievances lie like even a movie about dumbass aliens would be bearable if the characters were good and thats often whats carried me through other xmen movies like apocalypse

i don't even know where to start this is such a fucking mess so im gonna start with charles!

uhhh charles was. fucking awful this movie. like genuinely awful i wanted to beat his ass at the beginning i do think charles can be manipulative and put a big goal ahead of the wellbeing of a person in the moment! i love charles having negative traits i love those traits being explored! this.... wasn't it and it felt very abrupt in comparison to the previous movies, which did not really touch on his more dickish traits besides the god complex & how he made raven feel + his awful coping mechanisms. it wasn't movie charles! idk who it was but it wasn't him! if they wanted to show him as a dick they needed to develop more they cant just Do That! raven! ohohoho my beloved raven... ive pointed this out before but the alt timeline is awful to female characters which is especially pathetic considering the og's came out 10+ years before them i cant believe movies from the very earliest of the 2000s did better but they did.. how are you worse than the movies you based yourselves on. back to raven my babygirl. i am so so so sorry you never had any real development or plotline besides the first class "accepting yourself" thing and then nothing actually solidly fleshed out since. the raven that lives in my head does. but thats not the raven in the movies and she got thrown back into her "i wanna leave and do something meaningful!!!" role which i found extremely tired. her and charles can have an extremely meaningful and nuanced relationship but the movies never actually go there and im miserable about it and in this one they just argue about shit they argued over in first class then she got fridged goodbye my sweet angel... sorry they made you say that stupid x-women thing as a throwaway #girlpower! moment at least you didnt live to see the aliens

(on that note i do appreciate the way they showed charles having a relapse with alcohol over her death. that was a small good detail)

hank was like. im glad he developed a spine this movie but also he was forgettable to me personally after the scene where he yelled at charles. him siding with erik was hilarious as fuck but im ???? idk i need to rewatch his scenes to develop strong opinions on him in this movie but im also never gonna do that lmao

erik my other babygirl im very glad the movie had you take a backseat i cant imagine what they wouldve done if he had a bigger role.... the scene where jean showed up was good until he valued the military's opinion more. my king would never. he was hot also in most of his scenes so good for him!!! the entire "im gonna kill jean over raven!!" thing... eh. if they showed us an actual strong relationship be that platonic or romantic between erik & raven it probably would've hit more but they didn't! and so it was just! i mean okay i guess! also very funny how he was sitting on his little gay socialist island like "i've found peace finally" but then they immediately had him go out to kill jean!

regarding the kids in general. i liked scott the most this movie but they were all very! idk the alt ones pale in comparison to the og's for me personally i dont think thats their fault i think its the writing.. it wouldve helped if they all got more than 10 minutes of screen time besides jean but they did not. there was just too much going on it needed Less

they almost had flavor with the entire jean & her little kiddy repressed trauma + her adopted father relationship with charles but it fell super flat probably because of the fucking aliens they also had to work in i think that plot line had the most potential out of all of them tbh

moving on from that the stair scene. that is the most ableist thing i have every fucking seen and i didn't even actually watch it the chat was going crazy about how awful it was so i luckily realized what was gonna happen and paused + skipped over it like im sick thinking of it even now and im abled so i cant imagine how disabled fans feel. whoever came up with that plague on your house burn in hell etc that sounds like a joke but its not i legit want to smash a car with a bat over it (for those that don't know, jean makes charles walk up stairs/drags him up stairs with her powers. she tells him to walk to her before doing this.)

the train fight was good as hell. and the proposal!!!! erik proposed!!! but im gonna say something unpopular: this movie was not worth that one minute of cherik. its like they stabbed me and instead of proper care they gave me a band-aid. anyways,

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 10)

Previously on LBitR...

“Calm down,” Lena whispers, even though she’s having trouble doing exactly that at the sight of the empty bench where she had left Kara waiting not even an hour ago.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Alex hisses; the muzzle of her gun dis rather painfully on her back, and Lena would really like to step away from it, but the agent has her arm locked in a vice grip. “Where the hell is she, Lena? She was here when I followed you in!”

“Walk with me,” Lena says, quickly scanning the area--they’re standing in a stiff, unnatural way, and the last thing she wants is to draw any attention, especially when they’re both wearing stolen LuthorCorp lab coats right outside the building. She takes one tentative step away, hooking her arm around Alex’s as if they were just friends walking down the street arm-in-arm.

Thankfully, Alex understands Lena’s not-so-subtle hint faster than Kara ever could; her image-induced expression relaxes into a smile that barely looks forced, and her grip of Lena’s arm, though still tight and borderline painful, shifts so that it appears more casual.

“Is there any way you could have been followed?” Lena asks, subtly looking around them, noting that Alex is doing the same.

“That’s always a possibility,” Alex admits, sounding both panicked and defeated at once. “But I was very careful.”

“OK, let’s not panic yet,” Lena tells both Alex and herself. “Kara and I made plans to rendezvous back at the motel if I was gone too long or if anything happened.”

Alex gives her a look--it’s weird to have a patented Alex-Danvers-look-of-disapproval coming from a stranger’s face. “You weren’t gone for long, though.” She doesn’t voice the alternative.

Unthinkably, Lena reaches out and gently pats the hand on her arm. She means for it to be reassuring--it’s the kind of thing she would do for Kara--the kind of thing she has been doing for Kara over the last couple of weeks, but Alex looks just as puzzled by the action as Lena is.

She removes her hand and clears her throat. “Still, our best bet is the motel. Did you drive here?”

Alex nods. “Great,” Lena continues, mind already working a mile a minute. “Kara probably took the bus back--we didn’t want the car to be seen downtown,” she explains, and Alex lets out an undignified snort.

“That’s remarkably sensible of you,” she quips sarcastically. Lena ignores her.

“What I’m saying is, if you drove here and we take your vehicle, we may beat Kara to the motel, or get there shortly after her. It’s one hour from LuthorCorp to the motel by bus--she’ll switch routes at least twice on the way.”

Alex looks impressed despite herself. “And if she doesn’t show, what then, genius?” she challenges, lips pursed.

Lena breathes out steadily, calmly. “She will,” she says with as much conviction as she can possibly muster in her tone, because the alternative is simply unthinkable.

Alex smacks her lips, slowing her walk as she considers their limited options. “Fine,” she finally concedes, dragging Lena down an alleyway.

They dispose of their lab coats in a trashcan in that same alley, and Alex practically hauls Lena towards a secluded spot behind down another alley a few blocks away.

“You better hold on,” she says, removing a few strategically placed cardboard boxes to reveal a sleek black motorcycle, discreetly parked behind a dumpster. “I did not bring an extra helmet.”

Lena does hold on, mainly because Alex weaves and cuts through traffic like an absolute manic as she follows the directions Lena has to practically shout in her ear as they go. She knows Alex is desperate to find Kara and make sure she’s OK, but Lena also wishes she would ease off the gas a little; she’s got enough to be afraid of at the moment.

She feels like her heart is about to burst out of her chest when they finally reach the hotel; they’re nowhere close to the room she and Kara had checked into, but she’s already fumbling in her purse for her key card. with Alex hot on her heels.

They stumble into the room together, and Lena has to stop, has to take a second to try to stop the cold dread she immediately feels at finding it empty, exactly as they had left it this morning.

Alex begins pacing like a caged tiger immediately. “She’s not here,” she gasps, tapping at the image inducer at her temple, and then it’s Alex, really Alex, looking worried and panicked and slightly disheveled in this empty room, and now Lena is belatedly realizing it’s up to her, Supergirl’s would-be killer, to try and comfort the hero’s sister while they wait.

As if she is not on the verge of a panic attack herself.

“We knew she wouldn’t be,” she tries to reason, keeping her voice as even as she can, though she can’t stop tugging at her fingers out of sheer nervousness.

She’s doing the math in her head, thinking of the bus schedules, of which one Kara probably had gotten on and when; she’s mapping out the routes in her mind, considering the usual trip times, factoring in the average Metropolis traffic at two in the afternoon on a Thursday.

Alex takes one look at Lena’s fidgeting hands and immediately sighs, sinking into one of the beds. “Take that stupid wig off,” she barks. “Blonde you is freaking me out.”

That lets out a little chuckle, but it feels like some kind of hysteria. She takes a seat on the opposite bed, and Alex regards her quizzically.

“Kara said something similar yesterday,” she explains, carefully removing the wig and setting it on the nightstand. “That’s too bad; I really thought I was pulling it off.”

The attempt at humour falls completely flat--Lena can see it plainly in Alex’s wooden expression. “You definitely weren’t,” she deadpans. Her knee is bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down, boot tapping dully on the carpet.

It’s driving Lena insane.

“Kara will be here soon,” Lena says, still tugging at her fingers. Alex doesn’t look convinced. 

“And if she doesn’t?”

Lena has no answers to that, refuses to consider the possibility.

“She will,” she says again, in an almost silent whisper, for her own comfort. “She will, she will, she will.”

Alex says nothing, only continues with her bouncing knee, keeps her gaze locked onto Lena. And Lena, Lena tries not to squirm under the agent’s scrutiny; she fidgets, she stares at the blinking red numbers of the alarm clock, steals glances at the door--she looks at anything and anywhere to avoid Alex’s gaze.

When Alex does speak again, her voice is low, but it still startles Lena enough for her to jump a little in surprise.

“What do you remember about that day, Lena?”

When Lena turns to face her, Alex’s eyes are as hard as stone. Her scowl has returned, and the way her brows are furrowed is far more telling than the cold tone of her voice. It says, plain and simple, I don’t trust you.

It takes Lena a long time to come up with an answer Alex may find even remotely satisfactory--she knows that ‘I don’t know’ that is on the tip of her tongue simply won’t cut it, even if it is the honest answer. Her memories, the few that she does have from that day, are murky and sparse, and don’t feel altogether hers.

She struggles to recall any details, searches the blurred images interred somewhere in her subconscious and tries to make sense of the tangled mess she has been left with. “Flashes,” she tries, settling for as much truth as she can muster at the moment. She swallows. “I remember... I remember Kara falling--I remember seeing her from the top floor at LuthorCorp.”

Alex raises a brow like she doesn’t fully believe her. “The top floor?” she asks, voice oddly neutral. “Not from the basement labs? You didn’t watch it from the screens?”

Lena furrows her brows, tries to poke at whatever remnants of memory she has latched on to. “No, I don’t...” she closes her eyes, sees Kara falling, riddled with green, her body limp falling past her windows as fast as a bullet. “I-I don’t think so, I was... I think I was at the top floor.”

“You were apprehended in the basement, Lena,” Alex says brusquely.

“N-no, that can’t be right,” Lena chokes out, but all she sees behind her lids is Kara’s body falling, and her mind provides the most horrifying sound effect as it hits the pavement. “That can’t be, I watched her fall, I w-watched from my window.”

Alex shakes her head. “What do you remember before the rockets?”

Lena rattles her brain with difficulty; her lungs can’t quite return to their normal rhythm with the images her mind is supplying. “Before?” she gasps, keeping her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see, doesn’t have to wither under Alex’s unyielding disappointment and doubt.

“M-myriad, the, um, the Fortress, ah... I was there with K-kara, and--”

She’s close to hyperventilating; she can’t get the image of Kara’s body--her bloody, broken body falling, falling--out of her mind.

“The Fortress? Lena that was two weeks befo--Lena? Lena, are you OK?”

Lena can’t respond--she can’t speak, she can’t even breathe. her brain is giving her the most terrifying flashes of memories, memories that don’t feel like her own, and she’s scrambling to fill that gaps at the same time as the images come, unbidden, to her mind. Her mental boxes are teetering, swaying in their little organized, compartmentalized stacks, unbalanced, and she can’t, she can’t breathe.

“Shit,” she vaguely hears Alex say, marginally registers the agent rushing to her side, but then someone is touching her and there is another flash--it is white hot and painful in her brain, like an electric shock, and she feels someone grabbing at her shoulders, pushing her down hard, pulling, and dragging, and, and--

Lena yelps and recoils, bats away at the hands reaching for her shoulders in uncontrollable, all-consuming panic.

“HEY!”

It’s another voice, worried, coming from someone bursting through the door with force, nearly slamming it off its hinges. Lena’s only somewhat aware of Alex yelling--she sounds happy, surprised, worried, and a whole gamut of other things Lena cannot focus on, because suddenly, there’s just warmth all around her.

She’s being held, tight, tight, tight, but it isn’t restrictive--it’s the opposite, warm and comforting and it envelops her almost entirely, like a heavy blanket, muting the sounds of her own frantic heartbeat.

“Sh, Lena, it’s just me. You’re OK. I’m here, I’m here.”

It’s Kara’s voice--low in a soothing murmur, rumbling in her chest as she whispers right at Lena’s ear, and the vibrations are soft, reassuring, and tranquil, almost enough to ease Lena’s trembling.

She’s wrapped tight in Kara’s arms as her awareness returns, slowly and fuzzy. Kara’s hand rubs circles on her back, and Lena instinctively tucks her head under Kara’s chin, seeking more of her warmth. Kara is taking deep, deliberate breaths, and Lena finds herself subconsciously trying to match them at every inhale and exhale, using the pressure of the rise and fall of Kara’s chest against hers as guidance.

When the flashes cease, she dares open her eyes again. Over Kara’s shoulder, her gaze locks with Alex, who’s awkwardly standing to the side, watching them closely.

“OK,” the agent says, gaping a little. “What the fuck?”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

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[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Cheryl//maple syrup

Request: Can you do the secret and sins when Veronica comments on the Cheryl’s twincest and the reader defends Cheryl even though the reader kinda diss likes Cheryl.

hey! how is everyone? i hope you’re all well and good! i may have slightly cheated a bit and copy and pasted a previously written out bit from another request where they’re playing secrets and sins. but that’s only because i didn’t see the point in writing the same dialogue again. anywayyyy enjoy! 

It seems that whenever Cheryl Blossom arrives at a party, the party atmosphere disappears. Maybe it’s her grating personality or overbearing need to be liked, whatever it is, within ten minutes of her and Chuck gate crashing Jughead’s unwanted birthday party, there’s already tension. 

Which is not made any better by the suggestion of secrets & sins. Your friends are gathered in a circle in the living room, while you sit off to the side. You want to eavesdrop, but you don’t want to reveal your deepest, darkest secrets, not to your best friends and definitely not to Cheryl. 

It’s clear everyone that’s been roped into this stupid game doesn’t want to be there. Betty shifts in her seat uncomfortably and stares at you with pleading eyes. You shoot her an unsure smile back before taking a sip of your drink and she drops your gaze, glancing at Archie before staring down at the floor. 

Cheryl is the only one that looks like she’s enjoying herself, but you’re not surprised. Chaos and the chance to get dirt on everyone so she can control them even more than she already does is what Cheryl lives for.

You glare at the red-head, who’s smiling brightly as she looks around at her victims and when her eyes land on you, her eyes narrow and the smile is replaced by a smirk. 

“What’s wrong Y/n? Did nobody pick you to be on their team?” She asks, her bright red lips forming a perfect pout and you can’t help but stare at them for a few seconds longer than you should. You feel your face heat up and look away, blaming the alcohol for the affects you’re feeling and refusing to believe that you’ve just thought of Cheryl Blossom as attractive. 

A shiver runs up your spine at the thought and you lips pull into a pout as you stare down at the now empty cup in your hands. You scratch at the plastic and listen to the mumbles and whispers of the teenagers stood and sat around you. 

Whoever isn’t partaking in Secrets and Sins, have gathered around to watch and judge, and you can’t help but lean in a little closer, they may be some of your closest friends, but you can’t help wanting to know what they’ve been hiding from one another...you’re only human and at least you’re not as bad as Cheryl. 

Cheryl lives of rumours. Like Gretchen Wieners with smaller and redder hair. 

“What the hell is Secrets and Sins?” Jughead asks, all eyes on Cheryl as she moves around in a circle, eyeing everyone suspiciously as she starts to explain the rules. 

“Its a variation on Truth or Dare…in which we own our truths by telling it like it is. I’ll start the game with…Veronica Lodge.” She smirks and you roll your eyes at her. 

“Naturally.” Veronica sighs and you pat her shoulder. 

“Let’s begin with the day you and your mob wife of a mother came to town for a so-called fresh start.” She says, her eyes filled with accusations and anger before she’s even gotten to her question. 

You really don’t know why so many people like her, well you do, it’s because she’s rich and she bullies people into being her friend because she’s unable to make them any other way. 

She’s snobby, spoilt and just plain mean, but that doesn’t stop you from sometimes staring at her for longer than you want to and definitely should. 

“Tell us Veronica, what’s so fresh about defiling Archie Andrews in a closet?”

“That was your doing.” She replies confused, her arms crossed defensively against her chest.

“Moving on to dear Daddy Lodge…” She interrupts, getting more and more angry by the second. “Isn’t it true that your father, from prison, illegally purchased the drive-in land? Which makes me wonder, what else is he doing behind bars?” She continues and you glance to your side at Joaquin, who shares a very suspicious look with FP

“Well, I can’t speak for my father…but I can think of someone with a very dirty secret. Specifically, Cheryl killing her very own brother.” The tension in the room shifts and your eyes widen. 

As much as you dislike Cheryl, you know how close her and Jason were and you knew how much it hurt and how she’s still hurting now because of his death. You’ve seen her crying underneath the bleachers after school, you see how her eyes are a little more dull than they used to be. They don’t sparkle as much when she talks and when she’s not spreading hate, she’s just not saying anything at all. 

She smiles less when with her friends, and sometimes you think the only reason she’s horrible to people is so she can feel something. But that doesn’t excuse it and so you shake your head and earn a few confused looks as you try to stop yourself from defending Cheryl Majorie Blossom. 

“Everyone knows how much I loved my brother.” Cheryl defends herself.

“Exactly.” Veronica replies. “But did you love him, maybe in ways that a sister shouldn’t love a brother?” She continues and you watch as Cheryl becomes more and more upset. “And as you got older, Jason started to think it was strange, unnatural. So he chose Polly over you. So you shot him between the eyes with one of your father’s many hunting rifles.”

Her shoulders slump a little and her bottom lip quivers as she looks around the room helplessly. The confident look she usually has, has slipped off like a mask, revealing a very sad girl underneath and suddenly you find yourself standing up. 

“That’s enough Veronica.” You say, surprising everyone, including Cheryl. “Just leave her alone, it’s not worth it.” You add quietly and slowly sit back down again. 

Veronica hold her hands up in defence and you force a smile before going back to picking at the plastic of your cup. 

“I don’t need you to defend me.” Cheryl seethes, her eyes full of hatred as she looks at you, and for some reason it stings. You’re used to her not liking you, but her hating you, hurts you for some unknown reason and you have to take a few deep breaths in order to stop the ache in your chest. 

“This game is sick.” Dilton adds and Cheryl uses the distraction to wipe away the tears on her cheek. “I wanna go next.” He adds making everyone look at him.

“Thats the spirit, Doiley. What secrets do you have to reveal to us?” Chuck grins. 

“I saw Ms. Grundy’s car by Sweetwater River the day Jason went missing.” He says and everyone gasps. People mumble and whisper around you and Cheryl stares straight at Dilton, her eyes narrow. “I told Betty and Jughead, and then Ms. Grundy quit her job and left Riverdale, like, two days later. And let’s not forget that Archie was also at Sweetwater River that morning.”

“Oh, my God.” Cheryl whips her head round to look at Archie. “Colour me shocked. Archie Andrews, is that why you became a mediocre musician overnight? Because you and Ms. Four-Eyes were pulling a Mary Kay Letourneau?”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t get in the gutter with them.” Veronica mutters while glaring at Cheryl. 

“Wait, what? Andrews was banging a teacher?” Chuck asks, his tone a mix of surprise and impressed and you roll your eyes at him. “I wish I would’ve known. I would have added you and Ms. Grundy to the book of conquests.”

“Classy, Chuck, as always.”

“Wait a second.” Cheryl interrupts. “That also explains why Archie can’t seem to keep a girlfriend to save his life. He’s got serious mommy issues. Anything to say for yourself Arch? Were you a victim or a perpetrator?”

“Dilton Doiley plays with guns.” Betty tries to change the subject but she’s immediately shut down.

“Big whoop, Betty. So Doiley’s a psychopath. Everyone knows that.”  

“Well, I guess it’s my turn now. Boy, do I have a twisted secret to reveal, starring Betty Cooper.”

“Leave her the hell alone, Chuck.” Archie threatens.

“Shut up, Andrews.” He replies. “Look, you may get a free peep show every night, but you do not know her. Hell, Betty doesn’t even know herself. Everybody knows why I got suspended, but what you don’t know...she dressed up like a hooker, in a God-awful black wig, drugged me, handcuffed me in the Jacuzzi, and well, I almost drowned until she got me to say what she wanted to hear. And then she really lost it. She actually thought she was Polly. But, hey, you knew all about this right, Jughead?” He asks. For a second, the question hangs in the air, everyone trying to figure out what to say next and how to process what they’ve just been told. 

But then Jughead leaps forward at punches Chuck in face causing all hell to break loose. Everyone stands and FP shoves races forward to grab Chuck and throw him outside. 

While everyone else follows them outside, eagerly awaiting a fight, you stay back and watch as Cheryl disappears upstairs, quietly sniffling as she goes. You look at the front door and then at the stairs and sigh, knowing that this is not gonna end well. She’s gonna insult you and tell you to leave her alone, but at least you can say you tried to help and then you won’t feel bad. 

So you glance at the door one more time and pray that at least one person is filming whatever is happening out there, before wandering up the stairs in search for Cheryl. 

The slight scent of maple syrup and the sound of faint cries coming from the bathroom lets you know where she’s hiding and you quietly creep along the slightly creaky floorboards, trying to remember which ones to avoid after years of practice when sneaking into Archie’s room in order to break him out. 

You stop outside of the bathroom, light coming out of the cracks of the door and your hand hovers over the handle. 

“Whoever is out there, go away.” She sniffles and you roll your eyes. 

Turning on your heel, you start to walk away, but then you hear her sob and it makes you freeze. 

You let out a quiet groan and curse the side of you that can’t leave people that are crying alone, before making your way back to the bathroom and slowly opening the door. 

The first thing you see as you duck your hear around the door is Cheryl sat on the side of the bath. Her hands gripping the edges so hard that her knuckles have turned white. He hair has fallen in front of her face and you watch as she her shoulder shake and tears drip onto the bath mat. 

“Cheryl?” You whisper and she looks up, her eyes wide as she quickly scrambles to wipe away the tears that have ruined her makeup. “Are you okay?” You ask and walk into the room. You close the door behind you and lean against it and her expression hardens. 

“I’m having the best time.” She deadpans and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. God is she stubborn. 

“Look, I know we’re not exactly best friends. Most of the time, I don’t really like to be around you-” 

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” She asks and you shrug. 

“But you know that if you need someone to talk to that won’t judge you or really know anything about you, you can. I’ll just sit and listen and you can cry or rant or I dunno. Just, know you’re not alone. You may not get along with everyone in this town, but we will all be here for you if you need us, all you have to do is ask.” You say honestly but anxiously while playing with your fingers. 

She looks at you surprised, her lips part as if she’s going to say something and you’re sure she’s going to tell you to shut up and leave her alone, but instead she says thank you and you feel yourself relax a little. 

“It’s okay.” You nod. “And for the record, what Veronica said was out of line. Everyone knows how much Jason meant to you and for her to say that is just wrong. We all know you loved your brother...a normal amount.” You add the last bit quietly and she stares at you for a few seconds before a smile twitches at her lips. “Would you like me to leave you alone now?” You ask and she shakes her head. You look around the small bathroom, trying to figure out the best place to sit and she moves along a little so you can sit beside her. “Would you like me to sit with you until you feel better?” You ask and she nods slowly, her lip wobbling again. 

You sit beside her, place a gentle hand over hers and the two of you fall into a slightly awkward but not as bad as you thought it would be, silence. 

After ten minutes, Cheryl stands and makes her way over to the mirror. She swipes her fingers under her eyes to try and get rid of her ruined mascara before messing with her hair to try and get it back to looking like normal. 

“Do I look okay?” She turns to you and stands with her arms by her side. Your breath hitches when you look at her and you wonder how she looks so pretty even in the most unflattering light that is Archie Andrews’ bathroom. 

You stand in front of her and slowly tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and you watch as she takes a shaky breath. 

“Can I?” You ask, your fingers centimetres away from her cheek and she nods slowly, her eyes locked with yours and you feel yourself growing warm from the intensity. “There.” You smile once you’ve wiped a bit of mascara away from her cheek. 

She grabs her bag and pulls her lipstick from it, but when she goes to apply it, her hands shake and you take it from her gently. 

Your lips darts out between your tongue as you concentrate on keeping the lipstick in the lines, and you can feel her warm breath on your cheek. 

“There!” You smile proudly once your finished, but she grabs your arm before you can pull away properly as her lips connect with yours in an almost frantic kiss.

You gasp a little and then relax and kiss back just as frantically, but she pulls away after a few seconds and the two of you stare at each other wide-eyed and breathless. 

“Your lipstick’s ruined.” You whisper and her lips curl into a smile. 

“Worth it.” She replies before pulling you close to her and kissing you again. 

support my writing! if you want! 

[your-brilliant-lady-m]

Part 4 - Basic Concepts of Miraculous Ladybug: Glamour

You can call it however you want: kid's show logic, superhero disguise logic, magical girl show logic, cartoon laws, suspension of disbelief, etc. But the fact that nobody recognises Marinette, Adrien and others when they are suited up IS NOT BAD WRITING. It's one of the main laws of this genre. That's not because characters are stupid, okay? So, being frustrated that everyone in the show acts stupid about this "wearing a mask that covers only eyes" trope is strange. This criticism is not valid or fair.

But, this trope has to make sense in-universe as a worldbuilding and narrative element.

Miraculous doesn't give us much direct information on how glamour works. And in this case, I think we need both SHOW and TELL. Because if you don't establish the glamour rules clearly, you are going to run into problems and create unfortunate implications with your storytelling choices.

Appearance

Miraculous obviously gives our heroes magical glamour. In "Lady WiFi" we find out that masks can't be taken off. It's magic. No other explanation is needed.

Miraculous can slightly change the appearance of users (eyes, face shape, height and hairstyles). People can identify and notice the hairstyles of heroes (numerous Ladybug wigs, statue in Copycat). Jagged Stone points out the change of hair when he mistakes Chloe for Ladybug ("Antibug"). But it's just a costume. There is no magic that prevents Jagged from understanding that Chloe isn't Ladybug. So, how does it work? But it's forgivable because it's cartoon logic. Suspension of disbelief works here, I suppose. I won't judge this too harshly.

Glamour also obviously prevents people from making a connection that Marinette and Ladybug have identical hairstyles. So people know that Ladybug wears her hair in pigtails, but magic does not allow them to notice similarities.

Another important question. Does glamour work on Kwamis? Can they see who is behind the mask?

New York Special makes it clear that magic does not affect robots and they can see through glamour. Does that mean that Markov, AI built by Max, knows the identities of Ladybug and Chat Noir? And it's never addressed.

Plagg in "Frightningale" says that holders can subconsciously choose their superhero appearance. This is actually pretty interesting and I like this idea a lot. Except the show is not consistent with this. The transformation of Master Fu looks identical to Nathalie's. And we have seen how different from each other Ladybug and Black Cat holders looked in the past. At the same time, Master Fu and Nino have different takes on Turtle superhero suit.

Age Glamour

Does age glamour exist? Do people see Ladybug, Chat Noir and other heroes as adults even when they look like teenagers to the audience (their height and build are smaller even when they are transformed)? Is that why no one ever questions the fact that children nearly die on a daily basis?

I mentioned unfortunate implications earlier. Well, this is where they come into play. Let's talk about "Copycat". A lot of people discussed it before me, so I won't bore you with details.

When I watched "Copycat" for the first time Theo's crush on Ladybug didn't bother me, because I thought that he sees Ladybug as his peer, a girl who is about 20-23 years old. Theo is an artist, his character design is that of an adult. He has his own studio, its appearance indicates that he did serious commissions in the past. The guy has no idea that Ladybug is like 13.

But then we get "Heroes' Day" and "Ladybug". And Hawkmoth calls them "kids", which means that there is no age glamour. Others see Ladybug and Chat Noir as teenagers. Perhaps, other Miraculous users aren't affected by age glamour. Therefore regular people see all heroes as adults but other heroes are able to guess their age more or less correctly. But you must spell this thing out because the audience can interpret "Copycat" differently. If there is no age glamour, then Theo is crushing on a teenage girl and he is fully aware of this fact. And this doesn't look good for your show.

The "No Age Glamour" theory is further confirmed in "Sapotis" where Alya just straight up analyses voice recordings and says that Ladybug is a girl their age. If glamour exists then it should also cover technology. Kwami can't be photographed. Face and voice recognition software shouldn't be able to analyse transformed superheroes and detect their identities in any way.

Besides, after "Sapotis" Alya should definitely be sure that Ladybug is not 5000 years old (also not an adult), especially after she wore Miraculous herself and was one door away from detransformed Ladybug.

SEASON 4 UPDATE! There's no age glamour after all.

In "Furious Fu" Su Han calls Chat Noir a child without knowing his identity. It means that everyone knows their superheroes are teenagers. "Copycat" can't be saved from that, uh, subtext anymore. No one questions the danger of their job or the balance of their lives outside of the mask. No one doubts their competence after "Origins" ever again. No one becomes annoyed after being bossed around by two teenagers in spandex. You had many opportunities to drop these details into the narrative. Someone could have been akumatized over this (I will not be ordered around by some magical kids!).

I don't know why writers decided not to use at least this idea and slightly adjust "Copycat" if they got rid of the age glamour completely. It can be explained as kid's show logic, but unfortunately, I'm reluctant to do it. If many characters sympathise with akuma victims on-screen, why not with the teenage superheroes who must fight them?

New York Special had this weird focus on collateral damage out of nowhere (the damage done by sentimonster Robostus) and yet it has 0 effect on the main story. No one in Paris is pissed that their 2 teenage protectors weren't there.

Ironically, "Furious Fu" and that one remark made by Su Han also created unfortunate implications for other moments in the show. Just hear me out. Apparently, Jagged Stone wrote a "thank you" song for Ladybug knowing that she is 13-15 year old child back in "Pixelator". Fandom is more than happy to roast Lila for lying about saving Jagged Stone's cat and him writing her a "thank you" song. Fandom claims that Lila's tale could harm Jagged's reputation, when he wrote a song for teenage Ladybug several weeks prior. Meanwhile, in-universe this lie is 100% believable.

If we put on "realism glasses", then both this whole song situation and Theo's crush in "Copycat" have uncomfortable implications. However, the show's canon can't be viewed and criticised through "realism glasses". I admit that bits and pieces of my criticisms are affected by these "glasses", but, ultimately, I'm trying to be fair and concentrate only on things that can't be justified by "cartoon logic and worldbuilding".

Could the existence of age glamour solve this problem of unfortunate implications and other concerns mentioned above? YES. Is it better for the narrative? YES. Is essential for the story? NOT QUITE. Could the absence of age glamour be called an irredeemable storytelling flaw? NO.

Disclaimer: On a side note, only older audience can notice these implications. Children, the target audience, most likely won't understand this subtext simply because they don't have enough experience. So, perhaps, this criticism is unfair, because these moments only look weird to me as an adult. It's like an adult joke in a cartoon that you don't get until you reach a certain age.

There's nothing technically wrong with adult writing a "thank you" song for a teenager. It's just an expression of gratitude. However, unfortunately, we live in a world, where adults normally wouldn't write songs for teens to express gratitude only. In real life similar actions would imply pedophilia and would be actively scorned by the public. No one would risk their reputation like that even if their intentions were genuinely pure and sincere. But this show can't be viewed through "realism glasses", because it's a cartoon and in certain cases we as the audience must use suspension of disbelief and pretend that certain things are possible for plot to happen.

Su Han also wants to give Ladybug and Black Cat to adults. Why didn't Master Fu do this then? Writers don't give us any explanation. Throughout the show we never question this up until the moment it's revealed that adults don't have time-limited powers. Then comes "Furious Fu". Story suddenly becomes self-aware here. Because apparently nothing prevented Fu from giving the most powerful Miraculous to adults who won't have time limit and will be more effective against Hawkmoth (see part 3 for more details).

I have a very good example of Age Glamour done right. It works in the story. There is no confusion or unfortunate implications. There is like one plothole connected to the glamour (it's been years and I still can't forgive them for Cornelia and Caleb) but otherwise, it's a pretty solid example of both show and tell. Clearly, writers wanted to avoid uncomfortable implications which are present in "Copycat". I am talking about W.I.T.C.H. comic books and animated series.

If you are not familiar with it, I'll give you a brief explanation. The story follows 5 girls, the Guardians of Kandrakar who are chosen to protect their world and parallel ones from evil. They receive magical powers from the amulet known as the Heart of Kandrakar. Their powers are based on elements: fire, water, earth, air and energy. Our main characters are about 13-15 years old. In the animated series they are younger and they attend middle school, making them 12-14 years old. But the transformation makes them look 18-20. They look like young women to each other and to other people. At the same time, people can recognise them, their looks and voice don't change. Most people don't know that they are really teenagers when they are not transformed and these people don't know that magic can make them look older. That's why everyone treats Guardians like adults when they are transformed. Comics establish this fact in the very beginning. In first issues characters state that they look older, we are also shown this multiple times.

In fact, one of the first side plots revolves around the fact that Irma uses her powers to sneak into the disco club to meet up with her crush. Irma is 13 at the beginning of the series, she is a high school freshman. Her crush, Andrew Hornby is a senior guy 17-18 years old. Irma has liked him for a long time and wants to impress him, so she decides to be clever about this. She transforms into her Guardian form of the 18-year-old girl, hides her wings, sneaks out to the club after her parents are asleep without any problem, and meets Andrew, who obviously doesn't recognise Irma in this girl who looks about his age. Smitten Andrew offers her a ride and 13-year-old Irma doesn't understand the implication of that offer, so she accepts. And, obviously, he decides that she is interested in more than just a ride home, since she agreed, and the comic implies that he fully intended for them to have sex in the backseat of his car. But Irma understands the implication only when Andrew tries to kiss her. She panics and turns him into a frog. And she actually pulls this "I need to look mature" trick more than once over the course of the series.

It's not the only situation where this age difference is handled well and makes sense. People who know the main characters in everyday life remark on their older appearance during transformation. Sometimes people flirt with Guardians when they are transformed. In one of the side-novels centred around Cornelia, she is worried that the prince of the realm they helped to save from famine would try to marry her. That never happens, but Cornelia actually brainstorms with her friends about how to tell the prince that she is really 15.

There are many other plot points where this happens, but I think that you got the idea. I really like how "Age Glamour" was handled in W.I.T.C.H.

How do we fix this? Create the situations where people offhandedly mention "Age Glamour" in the presence of Marinette or Adrien, use Kwami for this.

"Don't worry, dear. Chat Noir and Ladybug are adults, who know what they are doing. I am sure that they will handle this. "

Theo could say: "Oh, I wonder which university Ladybug goes to?"

"So, does that mean that other people see us as grown-ups, Tikki?"

A few words and boom, problem solved. Then allow the "show don't tell" rule do the rest.

[everlarkficexchange]

Written by: @alliswell21

Title: One of Us

Prompt 145: She moves in with her aunt and uncle when her parents dies in a small town. After suffering through trama, Katniss slowly starts to get better with the help of her family (aunt, uncle, cousin) and the Mellark brothers. But when things starts happening to her and the people around her, it’s revealed that she and almost everyone in the towns are apart of the werewolf pack and that one of the Mellark brothers is her mate. #werewolves [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rated: G for general audiences.

Tags: Canon Divergent!AU; Modern with a dash of Supernatural; Grief/Mourning; Feeding as a Language of Love.

Note: This is my final submission to this year's EFE challenge! Yay! I really am grateful to @xerxia31 and @javistg for their continued support of this fandom and for hosting once again this event. You are such amazing people, and I’m absolutely honored to be part of a community with people as amazing as you two are! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for keeping EFE alive!

@animekpopxx, thank you too! You feed my muse! And you give me Werewolves!!!!

This story was a bit of rushed job, though, and there’s more of it, I mean... we haven’t seen them turn into wolves yet!!! 🤣 I just didn’t have time to edit the complete fic before the deadline, but if you’d like to read the finished product, keep an eye out for it on AO3. I’m fairly sure the rating will keep, but we will see.

 Kpkpkpk

There’s nothing but the sound of crickets and frogs filling the vast darkness of the night.

It’s another moonless night out here in Panem… or is I like to call it ‘the middle of nowhere’. It’s weird, how dark nights feel here, there’s barely a start peeking tonight, but in a strange way, I like it.

Sitting on my aunt and uncle’s porch to watch the infinite dark ahead while listening to the nocturnal critters it’s about my favorite thing to do… it’s what did used to do when we came here for long summer stays, anyway. He used to say he felt at peace and relaxed, connected with nature. Too bad it took him to be gone, for me to appreciate what he meant by that. So every night I come out here and sit in the steps hugging my knees, staring at nothing but the deep, black night surrounding the cabin, whisking my dad was sitting next to me.

Tonight is different than usual, though. It was raining until recently, and the smell of wet earth is so familiar my chest feels tight and my throat is knotted.

“Petrichor, Katniss,” I mumble the words noiselessly, “is the smell of rain, hun. It smells the same everywhere in the world.”

I lean my chin on my knees, wishing I could go back to feeling numb like when my parents just died. But thinking of the word petrichor, while smelling the thing, is bring forth a plethora feelings and memories I don’t know how to handle.

Dad used to love Scrabble, crossword puzzles and trivia challenges. He tried to get me interested in those games, teaching me words and their meanings, every time he had a chance.

I wish I had been more enthusiastic about learning the darned stuff; it would’ve meant an extra moment spent with Dad, and less regret to feel right now.

An involuntary whine leaves my chest. It hurts to think about it, and not for the first time, I dig my nails into my skin to keep myself rooted in place, and not tear running into the void.

I feel like I’m spiraling out of control, I fear this time something will break in my head and I’ll do something crazy, like scratch my skin away and run wild into the woods, like a beast… but the overwhelming thoughts gets halted when I hear soft noises from out in the distance.

It’s like the crunching of footsteps on the gravel at the mouth of my aunt and uncle’s property. It’s too dark and isolated here, deep into the country. I’ve seen big wildlife roaming around: deer, raccoons, coyotes and even a lynx. But the longer I hear the noises, the more certain I am I’m being stalked by something big and fast.

My heart beats erratically in my chest; every hair in my body stands on point, fear is clawing its way up my chest and into my throat, my eyes feel about to pop from my skull, and then I’m disentangling my knees from my arms, standing up as tall as I can— which isn’t saying much—and then I call into the night, “Who’s there?!”

I hear a faint disturbance of air, and then…

“Good evening, Katniss!”

Slowly, from the shadows, a blonde head pops, eerie for a second. Broad shoulders follow, and then a torso. Before the rest of his body comes visible into the light of the porch, two more blonde heads come into view, flank the first person on either side: Shoulders, torsos, Jean covered legs… The three Mellark brothers make their way leisurely towards me.

I nearly faint from relief after the rush of adrenaline pumping in my veins. Going through so many emotions: grief, sorrow, dread and relief, so fast in such a short amount of time has left me winded and unsteady.

I lose my balance, but one of the boys— Peeta, the youngest— breaks ranks, and rushes to hold me upright.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, helping me sit back down on the porch steps. I lean my head against the main post.

“I’m okay. Just a little lightheaded,” I try not to glare. They gave me a fright, but I doubt they did it on purpose.

It’s something I’ve learn over the years. People in Panem are kind of quirky.

“Sorry we scared you,” Peeta offers, sheepishly. “We wanted to check up on you, and bring you something…” he looks up at his two older brothers and Rye — the middle one— steps forward, holding up a brown, paper bag, with little greasy spots on the sides.

I can guess what’s inside. They’ve been bringing me cheese buns almost daily, since Peeta found out they’re my favorites.

Rey hands the baggie to Peeta, and the latter offers it to me with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” I mumble, gratefully. I can smell the cheesy, yeasty treat through the bag; I can feel the warmth of the buns too! “While I love freshly baked cheese buns, you guys didn’t have to make this trek just to bring me a treat… on a dark, moonless night no less,” I fix them with a glare. “How did you even get here anyway? You couldn’t have walked and I never saw a car coming?”

My aunt and uncle’s cabin is at least 4 miles from town, and surrounded by woods; but then again, most houses in this weird little place are built in similar locations. It seems the townsfolk take their privacy extremely seriously.

“We rode our dirt bikes,” chimes Rye in, cheerily. “Not much light on those bulbs, though, but it’s okay. Our night vision is prime!” He gives me the A-Okay gesture.

“Rye,” the eldest, Bannock, warns lowly. Baring his teeth.

Rye shrugs and slips his hands on his Jean pockets.

I swear Rye hisses something like “it’s true” under his breath, but Peeta has been rubbing my back with the tip of his fingers all this time, and I’m getting drowsy, so I may have imagined the whole exchange.

“You should eat those while they’re still warm,” Peeta murmurs close by my shoulder.

I nod, and open the bag, releasing all the delicious smells of the buns, while Peeta massages my shoulders, encouragingly.

I must be really out if it tonight, because outside of my family, I’ve never been comfortable with people touching me… but, my family is all gone now, and I can’t go through the rest of my life without human touch, can I?

Grief stricken me out of nowhere, and barrels through me. I gasp at the acute pain in my soul at the loss of my parents. But in an instant, I’m enveloped in strong, thick arms, warm and steady. I’m sobbing into a hot, solid chest, covered in the softest cotton I’ve ever felt.

“Shush… I’ve got you, Katniss. I’m here for you,” Peeta whispers soothingly into the crown of my head.

He smells so good; like cinnamon and dill, from the bread he must’ve made this afternoon at his family’s bakery.

It takes a few minutes for me to get a hold of myself, and embarrassedly push out of his embrace, “I’m sorry,” I mumble, mortified.

Bannock presents me with a handkerchief, and I take it gratefully to wipe off my face and nose, before returning the soiled square of fabric to him.

I’m not sure why the Mellark brothers are being so nice to me. I’ve never been around them more than a handful of days over the past few years, when we came to see Dad’s remaining family outside mom and I, his half brother, his wife and their child.

I don’t know the Mellarks all that well, but in the handful of weeks since my parents’ funeral, the three brothers have been incredibly attentive and generous to me. Peeta more than the other two, but I don’t mind… I like him best anyway.

“It’s okay to cry and be devastated, Katniss.” Says Bannock, sagely. “You’re going through the worst time of your life, and we care for you… like family.”

“Oh,” I sit straighter, blowing my nose. I feel a little strange hearing him say that, “thank you? I appreciate your kindness,”

He nods, “Peeta’s right, though. You should eat the cheese buns before they go cold.”

“A full stomach always helps me feel better,” Rye adds, patting his belly, and smiling at me.

My stomach growls, as if to show agreement. I am hungry. I didn’t touch my supper earlier. I pick up the bakery gingerly, and pretty much shove my nose into it. The steam curls out of the baggie, filling my nostrils with the delicious smells. I pluck out a bun and practically inhale it in a second; quickly followed by another one. My third cheese bun, I decide to savor, slowly.

The Mellark siblings just hang around while I devour my treats.

The front door opens just as I’m wiping my hands on my leggings. My aunt’s head peeks out of the door.

“Oh, why hello everyone!” She greets, as bubbly as always. She’s wearing a dark purple wig, to match her dark purple outfit.

“Good evening, Effie,” says Peeta, standing from his squatting position next to me. “We brought Katniss a gift,” he points at the now empty bag in his hand.

“How sweet of you, Peeta!” my aunt gushes, “thank you for checking on our girl, and making sure she’s put something in her tummy before bedtime!”

I roll my eyes. Aunt Effie keeps treating me like a kid. I hate it. I’m 17 and mourning, not a freaking baby!

“It’s no problem at all, Effie! We were just on our way home anyway.”

“Well, it’s always nice having you boys over,” she offers, “but it’s getting late, and Primrose is already in bed, which is why I came out here to begin with, to let Katniss know that her sister was already asleep, so she’d know to tip toe back inside when she was ready to go to bed herself,” my aunt smiles.

I feel a slight pang of guilt; I’ve been wallowing in my own sadness this evening, and missed tucking my sister in to sleep. She’s the only person I’m sure I love, yet tonight I’ve let my own misery drown me.

“Don’t mind us, Effie,” Says Bannock, “We were about to leave…” he pauses and then calls a meaningful, “Peeta?”

“I’m going to wish Katniss a good night, and then we’ll go,” he says.

Not for the first time, I wonder if Peeta has a crush on me? I wouldn’t know he did, even if I wasn’t feeling so rotten inside. I’m not very good at flirting… but with Peeta it is different I think. He’s so nice to me, he’s taken up asking if I’ve eaten that day and if I haven’t, he feeds me something from his family’s bakery without charging me… it’s like he actually cares for me and my well-being, and his brothers care, because he does. It’s mesmerizing at times.

Peeta looks me in the eyes, “Are you ready to go inside?” He asks, offering his two open palms to me. He helps me up from the floor, and then smiles sweetly. He doesn’t let go of my hands while we stand facing each other.

Then something strange happens. Peeta doesn’t blink, as his clear-blue eyes bore into mine, and then his pupils blow out full, until only a ring of deep, glowing azure remains for his irises, “Sleep well, Katniss,” his voice sounds deeper and warmer than usual, “Rest and have a relaxing, dreamless night. Remember what I said: we are all here for you, to help through this hard time… alright?”

I feel groggy, “Yes, Peeta,” I mumble feeling my eyelids getting heavier.

“Oh dear, can you please instruct her to walk herself to bed? She might look lithe, but I promise, her little body is as heavy as any of us,”

Huh? What’s aunt Effie going on about? I don’t understand.

Peeta chuckles, squeezing my hands warmly in his, “You heard Effie… don’t fall asleep until you’ve gone into your bedroom and change into comfy pajamas.”

I nod, “Okay,”

“Good night, Katniss, I’ll be back tomorrow. Try to eat something on your own, I know you’re sad, but you need your strength for when the solstice comes.”

What a weird thing to say! Everything is strange here though… so I nod and march inside the house, mumbling my good nights to everyone and rubbing my very sleepy eyes. Once I’m in my sleep clothes, I lay in bed, and try to ignore the yearning of having Peeta rubbing my back like he was doing while I ate my cheese buns.

I sigh and go to sleep, a weird thought pops into my mind: “I’m so lucky to have such a sweet, caring mate. Peeta Mellark. Can’t wait to be bonded with him,”

[melodyalanaroster]

Miracle Romance

"Oh my god." Alana gasped with tears in her eyes. She stood in front of a large mirror and stared at herself. "I finally look like Serenity." She smiled as she left the dressing room and showed herself to Nathaniel. "You look amazing." Nathaniel smiled. Alana began to cry. “For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be like her... And now, even for a few moments... I can be her.” Tears made their way down her face as she smiled. "I guess I have to break your one rule." Nathaniel smiled. "You are not dying your hair black." Alana remarked. "I could wear a wig." Nathaniel replied. “But Nath... We talked about this...” Alana began. "I am not letting anyone else be your Endymion." Nathaniel interjected.

★

Throughout Alana's life, she had made it very clear that Sailor Moon had been a staple to her. It was a staple in the Roster family. By the time Alana reached the point of living in the Black Tower, at least four generations of the family enjoyed it. Including both primary sets of sisters, Margaret and little Ravenna.

She would play pretend with Viktor, Severina and Sam when they were children. She would always be Sailor Moon and Princess Serenity, Viktor was Tuxedo Mask and Prince Endymion, Severina was Sailor Venus and Sam was always Sailor Jupiter. The tree house in Alana's backyard was often the Moon Kingdom and they would frequently save the world. The adventures would always end with the power of love winning and the kids going into the house for a snack.

As the kids reached adolescence, they were forced to stop playing. But, their love of the anime was still prevalent. Alana always kept up with merchandise news and rumors about the release of a second anime. Lynne had made sure that Alana and Sam had their own copies of the manga, original anime and movies. Viktor happily talked about being Endymion to Alana’s Serenity until they were forced to break up. They wanted to continue the fantasy, but circumstance parted them. Severina was always happy to talk to everyone, and toss out ideas for a proper cosplay group, but Sam dampened the idea with the reminder that, as long as Viktor’s and Severina’s fathers remained in control of their lives, they’d never be allowed to do so.

When Lynne moved Alana and Sam to Amouria, things began to change. "She won't shut up about that Nathaniel guy." Viktor growled as he sat down next to Severina. “Viktor, you knew from the day one that you and Mels weren't allowed to be together. She has to find her Endymion." Severina sighed. “But seriously? aunt Lynne moves her and Sam to Amouria and they both immediately find guys they like?” Viktor complained. “You know Mels talks about other guys too. Right now, it could be Castiel, Lysander, Armin or Nathaniel.” Severina tried to make things sound better. “No, it's definitely Nathaniel. She barely mentions the others to me. Mostly about Armin playing games, Castiel being an ass, and Lysander losing his notebook. But she dotes on Nathaniel a lot.” Viktor retorted. Severina sighed. "Viktor... Do you remember what happened to Adonis and Beryl? Their envy got the best of them, they became evil and they died. Please keep a clear head.” She reasoned. "I am not like Adonis and Beryl." Viktor shot. “Viktor, I can't believe I have to be the voice of reason here. Both of our moms made it very clear that aunt Lynne, Mels and Sam have more freedom than we do. They're not blue bloods. They have to find their miracle elsewhere... Although, you and I will probably end up being paired together in an arranged marriage set up by our fathers.” She explained. Viktor thought for a couple of minutes and sighed. "I just thought..." 

The first time Nathaniel ever went into Alana's room, he instantly noticed her Sailor Moon dolls. "They're really hard to find these days... And Sailor Moon means a lot to me..." She said as she explained what the show meant to her. “It's a connection to my past, my closest friends, and my family.” She smiled. Nathaniel looked puzzled for a bit, then smiled. "That's really sweet.". He smiled. He noticed a picture of her, Sam, Severina and Viktor on a shelf and picked it up. “You all look like you’re having so much fun.” He mused. “Yeah... That’s the only time we’ve ever been able to dress up.” Alana sighed, wistfully. The kids were in makeshift Sailor Scout uniforms. Their hair wasn’t perfect, and Viktor’s tux didn’t fit right, but they didn’t care. The photo had been taken a few weeks before Cosima Chevalier’s death, and was one of the last happy memories they had as a group. “Its cute.” Nathaniel chuckled as he looked at her lovingly.

When her mother went into the hospital, Nate arranged it to where Alana and Lynne could sit and watch whatever they wanted in the room. Lynne suggested marathoning Sailor Moon. The days in the hospital weren't as bad when they watched the show and Lynne stayed stable, but there were days where not even fighting evil by moonlight could save the day. But, that didn't keep them from trying. It didn't take them long to get through all five seasons and three movies of the original anime. “I heard they're making a second anime that's supposed to be closer to the manga!” Alana attempted to be cheery. She was sure that she, Severina and Sam had told her about Crystal, but she really couldn’t think of anything positive to say.  “That's lovely! Do you know when it's set to come out?” Lynne asked. “I have no idea. I'm sure Toei will update us when they can!” Alana replied. “I hope its soon.” Lynne smiled. Suddenly, Lynne began coughing and her monitors started to go off. “NURSE! HELP!” Alana cried.

Even when Sam and Alana fought so badly that the Military and RDR felt it was necessary to create a treaty between the two organizations to prevent the sisters from ever being enemies again, it was actually their love of Sailor Moon that truly began to bring them together again. Severina had gotten wind of the fight and forced the girls to go to her house. “OW! RINI! YOU'RE HURTING MY EAR!” Alana whined. “Seriously! What the hell?” Sam whined. “I don't care if I'm hurting you two! This kind of fighting is unacceptable! You two are sisters and you know that this behavior will tear the family apart! I won't allow that!" Severina began to cry as she lead the sisters to her home theater. "What's all this?" Alana asked. "You've forced my hand, so I'm pulling out the big guns!" Severina cried as she grabbed a remote and turned on the screen. Sam and Alana looked at the menu then at each other. "Go figure." Sam grinned. "Of course." Alana grinned. The menu on the screen was the DVD menu to Sailor Moon R: The Promise Of The Rose. By the time the song “The Power Of Love” was playing, tears were streaming down the sisters' faces. "Mels." Sam began to choke. "Sam." Alana's voice wavered. They looked at each other, sadness and regret in their eyes. “Mels... I’m s-so s-sorry f-for what I-I said..” Sam sniffled. “I’m s-sorry t-too S-Sami...” Alana blubbered as she hugged Sam. “I love you.” Sam muttered as she held onto her sister. “I love you too.” Alana murmured. 

When Death’s Domain was getting set up, Alana dedicated a whole room to the series. “You’re seriously going to have an entire room dedicated to Sailor Moon?” Derek had asked. “Yes. Its going to have shelves for merch, posters, and a couch to relax on.” Alana mused. “Melody can have whatever she wants for her apartment. And, if it helps her destress, I most definitely approve.” The  Red Death announced. “Well, the majority of my collection will be in there. There’s going to be something Sailor Moon related in every room.” Alana smiled. “Of course there will be.” Derek facepalmed. “I’m not apologizing. I love Sailor Moon and I wanna showcase it in my home.” Alana laughed. “And I’m sure you’re going to do nothing but post about your collection for a while.” Derek rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Moonies have a good presence online.” Alana mused. “I thought “Moonies” were people who followed the Unification Church?” The Red Death inquired. “Yeah, they are called that, but Sailor Moon fans are also called “Moonies”. I know, in certain circles, I have to be sure to differentiate... But, its what we’re called.” Alana explained as she shrugged her shoulders. The room ended up becoming a paradise for fans of the series. Shelves filled with various collectibles, a couch decorated with two throw pillows and a blanket, a coffee table with two sets of coasters, a large rug, framed posters, plushies, moon and star lights along the walls and showering down the window and a tv mounted on one wall. In contrast to the vast majority of Death’s Domain, the room was an explosion of bright colors.

★

Nathaniel stepped into the restroom for a few minutes. Alana watched the door in anticipation. When he came out, he was running his hands along the circumference of the black wig, making sure it was in its proper place. The thought of how similar he looked to Viktor shot through her mind. She did her best to suppress that thought. "You don't even like cosplay..." She muttered as she smiled. "You do so much for me, I don't mind doing this for you." He grinned. "Nathaniel! I love you!” She cried as she wrapped her arms around him. “I knew I was going to see Princess Serenity, I didn't know Prince Endymion would be with her!” someone called from behind them. They turned around and saw Sam leaning in the doorway. “Sam! I look just like her!” Alana cried. "I wonder if I can get Ken to be Nephrite." Sam commented. “I'm sure he would be if you asked him. You two would be the perfect Jupiter and Nephrite!” Alana beamed. “I didn't know this was turning into a full on cosplay group!” Ken laughed as he walked up behind Sam. "Why not?" Sam asked. "I'm not sure Viktor would appreciate being Kunzite." Alana remarked. “He'd have to get used to it. Since Nathaniel is Endymion, that demotes Viktor to Kunzite.” Sam stated. "Right because when you guys were kids, Viktor was always Endymion." Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Viktor has had years to accept his position in my sister's life. If he doesn't accept it, it will not end well for him.” Sam replied. "Do you think he will?" Nathaniel asked. "If he truly cares about her, he will." Sam nodded. “Viktor has known for years that our time ended long ago. Accepting his new position is painful for him, but he is well aware of the fact that it's something that he must do.” Alana explained.

A few minutes later, Renee walked into the room. “You both look magnificent! The girls and I have gotten a backdrop ready, would you two mind taking a few pictures?” She beamed. Alana smiled and turned to Nathaniel, a very hopeful look on her face. "Would you be okay with that?" She asked. Nathaniel nodded. "Sure." He grinned. They followed Renee into a room. "Oh my god! You two look utterly amazing!”, “You look beautiful Mels! Nathaniel, you look so handsome!”, “True Moon and Earth royalty!” the other girls cooed when they saw them. “I think we should do a cosplay group. I'm Jupiter and Rini will be Venus.” Sam commented when she walked in. "I volunteer to be Mercury!" Renee cheered. "I'll be Mars." Lyra smiled. "I'll be Pluto." Veronica beamed. "I don't mind being Saturn." Nora suggested. "I wonder if we could get Lucy and Noelle to be Uranus and Neptune." Sam pondered. "We could also see about getting Ravenna to be Chibi Moon." Alana proposed. “I think that would be fantastic. Who would be the rest of the Shitennou?” Lyra asked. "I could see if Armin could be Jadeite." Alana thought out loud. "Are we really setting up a cosplay group?" Nathaniel asked. Sam looked at Nath, as if he had said something really stupid. "Do you not realize how highly rated Sailor Moon cosplay groups are?" She asked. Nathaniel shook his head. “Sailor Moon cosplay groups are some of the most elite cosplayers in the anime world. Sailor Moon being one of the most iconic anime in history, it is instantly recognizable. The cosplayers take some of the most beautiful pictures, make some of the coolest videos, and even do events. They may not be unionized like Star Wars' 501st Legion, but they come together and coalesce with great ease whenever they recognize each other. Children who recognize them run up to them the same way that they do with superheroes, and typically, they are nice to them. It is a sisterhood of love and justice.” Sam explained. "Not to mention how fun it would be to finally be in one." Alana cooed. “We'd still need Zoisite.” Veronica stated. "I wonder if Derek could be him." Nora pondered. “Uh, guys? Can we please get to the photoshoot?” Renee asked impatiently. 

After posting for photos for what felt like an eternity, Nathaniel and Alana went into the changing room to get out of their cosplays. "You do look really beautiful in that." Nathaniel smiled as he took the black wig off. Alana blushed. "Do you really think so?" She asked nervously. “Of course. You look magnificent.” He blushed as he walked over to her and kissed her. “Thank you for doing this my love. It means the world to me.” Tears came to Alana's eyes as she spoke. “I love you my Melody.” Nathaniel cooed as he wiped a tear from her cheek. “I love you so much Nathaniel!” She mused as she threw her arms around him.

★

A few weeks later, in the early hours of the morning, several cars arrived at an old castle in the country. “This place looks amazing! Perfect for our photo shoot!” Alana cheered as she got out of the car. “Welcome to the Astarian Royal Palace Lady Melody!” A woman with long brown hair, sunglasses and wearing a knee length blue dress beamed as she walked up to them. “Mrs. Reynard, I presume?” Alana asked as she shook the woman's hand. “Yes ma'am. We spoke over the phone.” the woman smiled. “You are fully aware as to why we need the palace today. Am I correct?” Alana inquired. “Yes. For your little photoshoot. Cosplay, I believe.” Mrs. Reynard replied. “Yes. Sailor Moon. Its important the palace be the backdrop to this shoot.” Alana stated. “The photographer will be here in a few minutes to set up. They'll need time.” Mrs. Reynard explained. “That's fine. We need time to prepare.” Alana smiled.

After a couple of hours, the members of the group began to step out of their respective preparation rooms and into a lounge. Lynne Roster as Queen Serenity, Sam as Sailor Jupiter, Severina as Sailor Venus, Renee as Sailor Mercury, Lyra as Sailor Mars, Noelle as Sailor Uranus, Lucy as Sailor Neptune, Nora as Sailor Saturn, Veronica as Sailor Pluto, Ravenna as Small Lady Serenity, Viktor as Kunzite, Ken as Nephrite, Armin as Jadeite, Derek as Zoisite, Nathaniel as Prince Endymion and Alana as Princess Serenity. When the entire group was gathered in the lounge, tears filled Alana's eyes. “It's so beautiful!” she happily cried out. “Awe! Mels!” Severina cheered as she hugged Alana. “This was a fantastic idea!” Lynne beamed. "How long do we all need to wear this?" Armin asked, slightly uncomfortable. “Just a few hours. We're gonna get a TON of shots! ” someone replied as they walked up. It was a young woman with short platinum blonde hair, bright green eyes, and pale skin. She wore black pants, a white button up top and a deep blue beret. "You all look so regal!" She cheered. “Alright everyone, let me introduce you to you Catarina. She's a friend of mine from boarding school. She's the photographer I told you guys about!” Severina introduced. “Hello everyone! It is an absolute pleasure to meet you all!” Catherine bowed. ” Severina introduced. “Hello everyone! It is an absolute pleasure to meet you all!” Catherine bowed.

The photoshoot took several hours, and took place at various locations within the castle grounds. Lynne insisted on at least one family shot with Sam and Alana, and one with Sam, Alana, Severina, Ravenna, Ken, Nathaniel, and Viktor. “This is odd. I don't quite know the anime, but those characters aren't actually family, aren't they?” Catarina asked, curiously. “Not exactly... I mean, Queen Serenity, Princess Serenity, and Small Lady Serenity are three generations of lunar royalty, and Prince Endymion is Princess Serenity's husband and Sailor Chibi Moon's father... But, this shot isn't about the show's family. It's about their family.” Lyra explained. “Oh. That's sweet!” Catarina smiled. Alana insisted each “couple” got their own picture. Viktor wasn't too happy that his couldn't be with Alana, but he didn't mind posing with Severina. Kentin was very happy to have a romantic pose with Sam. "Nephrite and Jupiter look so fantastic!" Renee cheered. “Are you kidding? I've been wanting to do this set for a long time!” Sam beamed. “My favorite part of all of this. I hate this wig, but being your knight is worth it.” Ken mused as he looked at Sam lovingly. "This is awkward." Derek rolled his eyes when he and Renee had their turn. "Oh grow up!" Renee snapped. "Derek... You know what happens when Renee gets mad!" Alana laughed. “Yeah... She gets pretty scary.” Derek sighed. Everyone laughed as Renee forced Derek into a somewhat romantic pose. "But this is so awkward!" Derek whined. "Just do it!" Renee demanded. When their part of the shoot ended, Derek sat down and shot back a bottle of water. “That was weird. "Lyra, Armin, you're up!" Alana cheered. “Now this will be interesting! ” Ken chuckled. “And in Dragon Ball references Armin! Toei may own both franchises, but now is not the time to try to mix the two!” Sam ordered. “Awe come on! That takes part of the fun out of it!” Armin whined. “Armin, if we were doing a smaller photoshoot, I wouldn't mind a few “fun” shots. So please be more serious.” Alana urgent. "Fine." Armin sighed as he and Lyra took their places in front of the camera. 

“God that was exhausting! Who'd have thought that Cosplay would be THAT much work?” Nathaniel whined he crashed onto the living room couch at Death's Domain. "If you had cosplayed as the Winter Soldier when Armin and I cosplayed as Captain America and Black Widow at that Marvel Exhibition in High School, you would have known, first hand, A LOT sooner!" Alana shot as she crashed down next to him. "You still won't let me live that down?" He asked. "Nope." She chuckled. "Why not?" He asked. “Because Armin and I worked our asses off to do our characters justice and we were hoping you would join in on the fun. Especially considering how Natasha and Bucky get together in the comics several times, so it would have been a cute “couple's cosplay” for you and me. Not to mention how cosplay is more than just “wearing a costume”. When someone properly cosplays, they also wish to play the character, even for just a day. They temporarily escape reality and enter the one the character they're cosplaying as resides in. Weeks, months, and even years are spent building props and even hand making the items and outfits. There is a lot of blood, sweat and tears that go into it!” She explained. "I know you and Armin love it, but I don't think I could do it as often as you want to." Nathaniel sighed. “I get that. Its not for everybody. But, I'm thankful you did it for me.” Alana Mused. “I love you Alana. You always do so much for me... And it has been a long time since I've been the "prince" to your "princess." He grinned. "And I'm sure rubbing it Viktor's face added to your enjoyment.” She chuckled. "That did make it a bit more fun." He smirked. "I really wish you wouldn't antagonize him." She sighed. over you and find someone else. It's the same with Castiel. You're not going to be with him, so he needs to quit pining." He shot. "Yes, but with Castiel, you two have reached a mutual agreement, and he has angered me in such a way that I spat that truth with him." She chimed in. "Which makes the situation with Viktor worse. had your family and Severina telling him for years... Yet he insists." He huffed as he rolled his eyes. "Despite that, he is still one of my best and oldest friends. We were raised together and are still like family. Can you at least try to play nice with him?" She requested. Nathaniel looked at her annoyed. "Please! Pretty please! My sweet Endymion…” Alana begged as she playfully batted her eyes. He thought for a minute and exhaled. “Fine. ” He sighed. "Thank you." She mused. “But if he oversteps the boundaries that you and I put in place, I won't be so kind.” He stated. She cuddled up next to him and kissed his cheek. "I love you Nathaniel." She cooed. He put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I love you too Alana."

★

Several weeks later, after the images from the photoshoot had been posted and gone viral, an idea came to Severina's mind. She turned to Alana and Sam and smiled. "What?" Sam asked. “What if we did a cosplay concert?!” Severina cheered. “Nope. I'm not singing.” Alana stated. “PLEASE! We could choose a song from Sailor Moon and singing it at a convention!” Severina urged. “Really? What song would we even do?” Sam asked. “What about “Moon Effect”? It's sung by all of the scouts!” Severina cheered. “Please no. I don't sing.” Alana begged. "But, you wouldn't be alone... And we can't do it without our Sailor Moon!" Sam sneered. “Honey... You're such a beautiful singer! Please!!!!” Severina pleaded. “No…” Alana muttered. “Damn it Mels! Just do it! We all know that you sing when you're alone! On top of that, Nath, Rini, Viktor, Mom and I have all been telling you for years that we all think your singing is beautiful! So, just do it!” Sam snapped. "Don't forget how your teammates think so too." Severina added. Alana thought for a few minutes and huffed. “Fine. I'll do it.” She sighed. “Huzzah! Let's do it at Comic Con!” Sam cheered. "No! That’s too big a venue!" Alana pleaded "That's why it should be done there! You'll get over your stage fright on one of the biggest stages on the Convention Circuit!" Sam explained. "My babies singing a Sailor Moon song in full cosplay? I'd love to help you with it!" Lynne cheered as she walked up to them. "Fantastic! We'll make it a family project!" Severina smiled. Alana looked around at the other women, thought for a few minutes, sighed, and sheepishly grinned. “I guess the Roster Family women are putting on a show!”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Words cannot describe how badly I've wanted to write something Sailor Moon related to my story... 

Sailor Moon means a lot to me... It was my mom’s and my “thing”. No matter how much we fought, argued, and went at each other’s throats, we always bonded over the series. The first and last time I watched it in it’s entirety was with her just before her disease started taking its hold. She was the one who got me my first bits of merch, who was always happy to talk to me about it. The last Christmas gift I got her was a blanket with all the scouts on it, and she gave me plushies of Luna and Artemis. When mom died, Sailor Moon came to mean so much more to me. My aunt made me pendants with her ashes in them that look like the Legendary Silver Crystal, I got Pluto’s Garnet Rod tattooed on my back, and I became more adamant about collecting items. Each time I get a new item, I feel closer to her... There are times where I’ll even burst into tears because of Sailor Moon making me think of her....

Yes, I used the character sprite of Nathaniel that I edited from the Dark Chocolate Steward to make him look more like Endymion. I made his hair black, and edited his rings and earrings out.

Little tip... The bit about Adonis won't make sense unless you've read the Codename Sailor V manga.... If you’re not in the mood to read it, Adonis was a lowly Venusian soldier who was in love with his princess (Venus). Venus fell in love with Kunzite instead of him. He found her on Earth and cursed her to never be able to have love again, thus freeing more of her time up to focus on her duty as the leader of Princess Serenity’s Sailor Guardians.

This was originally going to be a Valentine's Day special for 2020. Then 2020 became the dumpster fire that it was and my real life needed more of my attention....

The majority of this does take place during the first year between University Life and Love Life. Before Nath and Alana go on their globe trotting adventure. The flashback section takes place at various points in time.

Credit goes to:

Naoko Takeuchi for Sailor Moon

@candysweetposts for the Princess Serenity Pack (seriously, thank you for going through with my request!)

@chinomiko and Beemoov for My Candy Love