#this is actually one of the major reasons why I'm so hesitant to drop the theory that Miquella and Mohg were working together

[joyaphoria]

the five chances you give him (5)

pairing: suna x f!reader

note: this is the last chapter! i hope you all enjoyed :)

summary: suna knew that he was doing something wrong, but he refused to acknowledge it. therefore, you slowly dropped five major hints for him, hoping that he would notice them and take action to fix your broken relationship. suna really did notice them, he just didn’t figure out in time that you were actually going to leave.

series masterlist | directory

© 𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢

part five: rin became rintaro; then it became suna

"oh baby... nobody said that it was going to be easy." mei cooed, her voice softer than usual. she repeatedly kissed the top of your head as you cried into her lap.

"i k-know but.." you spoke through your sobs, snot along your sleeves. "i-i really hoped t-that he would ch-change.."

it's been just over two months since you've started changing your behaviour around rin, but he didn't seem to react to it—no, he may have changed, but only a bit. it wasn't enough.

you knew that this was unavoidable, and that it had to be done. the longer it takes for you to get this over with, the longer it will take for you to get over it.

so when mei sent you home that night, she reassured you that it will all be worth it in the end, and that you will find someone better.

but the fact that he was waiting for you at the same table that you used to wait at, every single night, didn't help at all.

"where were you?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

you stood there for a second with your shoes still on, and folded over with laughter.

his heart flutters. whens the last time you laughed in front of him?

"sorry," you sniffled through the laughter, the aftermath from crying earlier doing you no justice. "it's just that i used to sit in that same chair, waiting for you to come home, you know?"

hesitating for a moment, he decided on getting up and walking over to you, although he didn't know what to do.

"y/n." he's looking down at you now, resisting the urge to reach out and take hold of your hands.

"rintarou."

now that caught both of you off guard.

it slipped out without a second thought on your end, and you were visibly shocked.

as was suna, except he was more afraid than anything else. he knew what this meant—he was no longer rin to you, but rintarou.

he should be grateful though, because he knew what eventually might come next. he knew that it wouldn't be rintarou for long, and that as soon as it changes, it would be over; everything would be over.

"were you crying?" he whispers, reaching out to wipe at your tear stained cheeks. except you wouldn't let him, grabbing his wrist in time. God—mei would be so proud; as would that kind lady from the cafe.

"why should you care?" you spat, letting go of his wrist to remove your shoes.

"because im your boyfriend." he said, although you didn't miss the quiver in his voice from that last word, as if he wasn't so sure anymore.

you move past him and head straight for the bathroom; but suna didn't miss it. he heard what you mumbled on your way out—and it had him slumped against the wall (when you were out of sight, that is)

his fists are clenched and his heart is beating a little too fast, but he can't get his mind off of what you said.

"yea, well not for long"

five words, and yet they seemed to foreshadow his future.

-

there were two possible reasons that you could be waking him up at 10 in the morning.

you were either waking him up to tell him that it was over, and that you were leaving, or that it was over, and that he had to leave.

turns out there was a third reason.

"do you have practice today?" you asked, your voice a whisper.

"yeah.. why?" he got up into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. its been a while since you last entered this room, moving all your things to the guest room.

"oh. nevermind." you make a gesture to leave but he panics and grabs your arm. this could be an opportunity, and he wasn't about to lose it.

"i could um.. take the day off." he nods his head.

"are you sure?" when he nods his head yet again, your features soften.

"okay, well get dressed. i feel like going to a theme park."

you leave the room before he has a chance to answer, but he complies anyways.

his mind wanders to the picture that he broke in the heat of the moment awhile back—the one where you were both smiling at an amusement park, kids laughing in the bakground.

-

"let's go on that one!" you exclaim, pointing at the rollercoaster.

a soft grin takes over your face—and while it may not be your typical energetic one, at least it was still there.

now, suna wasn't a big fan of rollercoasters. he prefered to have you go on them, while he took the photos, but today's been the first time in a while that he's actually seen you happy, and he wanted to keep it that way.

you've been here all day, and it was already pretty dark, so they might be closing soon anyways.

when the cart had finally come back around, you and rin got on, with a guy slipping in on your side.

"you guys here together?" he asked, looking over you to make eye contact with suna.

you nodded, and he chuckled.

"im here with my girlfriend, but she doesn't like roller coasters as much as i do."

now you and him are making small talk, and suna is resisting the urge to tell the guy to shut up, and to go back to his own girlfriend.

when the ride finally starts, he feels relieved, even slipping his hand into your own.

your hand tenses, and he looks up to find a look of guilt soaked into your features.

he quickly unravels his hand from yours, settling it into his lap and looking away. he got too carried away to remember that a day of rides and fun wasnt enough to fix his mistakes.

as the ride starts climbing upwards, fear pumps through his veins.

he shuts his eyes, dreading the fall.

when it finally came, he opened his eyes and hugged himself to keep from screaming.

he looks over to you, and his heart does that thing again—it flutters.

with your hands in the air, your screams adorning his ears, he fell in love. all over again.

the moonlight caressed your pretty features as your eyes shut in pure bliss, and suna found tears falling out of his own.

the tears fell but he didn't sob—not once. you didn't look his way either—not once.

instead he looked away, quickly wiping the tears before someone could catch him. he missed this; he missed you.

when you two got off the ride later, he wonders if you would ever go to another theme park with him.

-

when you decide to leave, suna finds an employee walking around the park with a polaroid camera.

he asks him to take a picture of you, and places it in his wallet. he can't break it this time.

suna misses the look of guilt that slips past your face, as if it were never there.

-

when the car pulls into the parking lot, and you both get out, suna realizes that you weren't walking beside him.

he panics and turns around, where he finds you smiling. tears in your eyes.

"thank you for today, suna."

he freezes. he can't move anymore. he can't think.

"don't be silly. let's go inside." he's walking again, but when he doesn't hear a second set of footsteps, the tears wash over him.

"why aren't you coming?" his voice cracks as the tears stream down his face.

"i'm going to mei's. it's-it's over." you smile, wiping continuously at your eyes.

"y/n please, we can talk about this." he's running over to you, taking hold of your shoulders as he bends down to make eye contact. "we're fixable, okay? i promise we are." he doesn't make move to wipe away the tears that are falling.

you wipe away his tears, pulling him into a hug. "i'm so sorry."

he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight, afraid of having you slip out of his grasp. "please, don't leave me. i'll do anything, just give me another chance. i need you."

you wriggle out of his arms, and his fists clench at his sides.

"i gave you chances. i gave you too many. i have to go."

you're running now, and he can't decide if he should run after you or not. has he not caused you enough pain?

instead, he falls to his knees and cries.

that was it. he lost you—he lost everything.

the polaroid picture was burning a hole through his wallet.

-

when he finally musters up the courage to check the guest room a few days later, he sees all your things packed up in boxes.

you had it all planned out, didn't you?

-

when mei comes later that day to pick up your things, she finds suna curled into a ball on the guest room floor.

"suna. wake up."

his eyes open slowly, and she finds them red, his eyebags puffy and cheeks tear-stained.

"is y/n gonna come back?" he asks, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

mei shakes her head, and suna cries again.

she looks away, thanking the heavens that she wasn't in a relationship. she couldn't help but pity him as she collected her best friend's things, suna's sobs as a sort of background noise.

she couldn't be surprised—the lost of your entire world was enough to make any grown man cry.

-

heartbreak isn’t easy, but suna’s heart hurts without you. where he sleeps, where he bathes, it all reeks of your touch.

you’re everywhere here, all memories playing back to him like a movie. he’s reminded of you, and recovering addicts don’t test themselves; they dont stay around said addiction to see if they can restrain themselves.

and so suna moves out, running from the place that you’ve drenched in your presence.

he leaves the polaroid picture on the table.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter eight - “hovel, sweet hovel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2k

synopsis: bucky and y/n arrive the shelter and take a look at what it has to offer.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: what would you like to see happen next? let me know! (p.s. this is what i pictured the shelter/hovel to look like)

"I think this is it," Bucky said, looking forward at the structure in front of them.

"That's the 'shelter?'" Y/N huffed, hopelessly annoyed.

They had been walking and jogging on and off for forty-five minutes straight. Her feet killed.

"We're... gonna die."

"We are not gonna die, Y/N."

"Look at it! That is a hovel!"

"Well, inside's better than outside," Bucky retorted. "At least no one will see us if we're in there. It looks abandoned, they'll assume it actually is.”

She sighed and followed behind Bucky into the shelter. It was a one story stone structure that looked so old and weathered. It... looked like a shed. An old ass stone shed. She briefly wondered if Wakanda had a storm season because she was almost certain this thing wouldn't withstand it.

The door let out an anticipated squeak, and she was just as disappointed to see the inside as she was the outside. Bucky put the bags down and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah... this... isn't great..."

It was just as small as it seemed. And empty. Mostly. There were a few withered shelves with dusty pots and bowls, and an even more withered attempt at a table. There was what looked like a furnace in one corner with old, rotted wood in it. The wooden floor creaked under their steps.

The whole place felt like a ghost: desolate, ancient, and lonely. Except for one peculiar thing...

"Bucky?" she beckoned.

"Hm?"

(Y/N) hadn't noticed it when she first entered, but in the middle of the table sat a small, shiny, black panther figurine. It posed on all fours, looking ferociously up at her. It looked so out of place in contrast of the eternal layer of dust on everything else.

"What is this?" she asked reaching for the one thing that didn't match.

When her hand wrapped around it, energy surged into her skin. It felt almost... alive.

"(Y/N) what-" Bucky was cut off by a sound that startled them both.

In the corner across from the furnace, a section of the floor starting moving. Wood on wood on stone was not a good sound. Nonetheless, in mere seconds, there was an opening, and if (Y/N) leaned forward, she could see stairs!

Both of them remained still, feet planted on the creaky floor. They immediately looked at each other.

"What did you do?"

"I'm... not sure. I think I opened it."

(Y/N) smirked.

"What?" Bucky asked, confusion clearly evident in his tone.

"I should've known," (Y/N) shook her head. "Shuri wouldn't have led us here unless there was something more."

She held the panther figurine as she walked towards the opening.

"Wait," he grabbed her arm. "We don't know that Shuri knew that was here. What if it's a trap?"

"A trap from who? I don't think anyone knows we're here except Shuri."

"I don't know. J-Just let me go first."

"Alright. After you, oh wise one," she acquiesced, voice sarcastic but endearing all the same.

Bucky tried to suppress a chuckle. "Smartass. You're the wise one."

She tried to go down the stairs, letting him go first, but apparently that wasn't enough.

"Wait, just let me go look around and I'll holler when it's all good."

"Holler? Who says holler?"

"Me. Wait here."

"Fine," she made a show of pointedly plopping down on the top step, still and waiting as he requested.

It only took about ten seconds.

"Woah..." his voice came from far away.

"What is it?!" (Y/N) leaned forward.

"You were right! Come down, you gotta see this!"

She wasted no time... and standing beside Bucky, her jaw dropped.

"Holy..."

Beneath the ground was a significantly larger, way more modernized, and highly advanced survival shelter. All equipped with smaller versions of a table, chairs, and cabinets, along with a compact freezer and miniature stove, a chest, a closet, and two sets of bunk beds. Everything was clean and looked in optimal condition. There was even a rug.

"Shuri definitely didn’t leave you with nothing," Bucky commented, still taking it all in.

"-us with nothing," she corrected, retreating back up to the shed to get the bags.

-

Later in the day, (Y/N) got a handle on the panther key and how to use it to open and close the entryway to the bunker. Once she figured it out, she kept it closed, ensuring their concealment and maximizing their safety.

Bucky had found his way into the closet, listing off the contents to (Y/N) who sat on the floor, back up against one of the bunk bed legs. She was exhausted. Her body had been assaulted by adrenaline and strenuous mortal-danger-physical-activity. Bucky seemed to be fine, though. Curse that super soldier serum. His energy was always so high.

"...oh, and here's the bedding stuff. I don't know what this is, though."

(Y/N) lethargically leaned her head over to get a good view of the closet.

She chuckled. "That's a space heater...Oh! And next to it - that's a portable AC. Makes sense. I doubt they could get electric or plumbing out here."

And her head rolled back to center, eyes closing, body exhausted.

Bucky seemed to notice. "Hey, if you're tired, I can make the beds...or at least yours if you wanna sleep now."

(Y/N) stretched her legs straight out in front of her. "No, that's okay."

She wasn't about to force her one armed friend to make a bed for her. That's just rude. Especially after he carried those bags. She felt bad; she wished she had done more.

"Nah, I don't mind. It's not like I got anything else to do," he insisted, bringing the bedding over.

(Y/N) stood, body internally complaining in aching protest. She didn't really have the energy to expertly persuade him.

"Buck, it's fine." Her voice was faint.

He didn't even stop to hesitate, seemingly determined on the task. She thought it better to just give up and let him do his thing since he was so set on it. However, the sheet was fitted and there were pillow cases, not really one-arm friendly assets. He was struggling... very clearly. (Y/N) felt even worse.

He started moving quicker, frustration jerking his arm in quick, irritated bursts as he was trying to get the sheet to stay. There was still no success.

She stepped forward gently. "Bucky..."

"Damn it!" he hissed, slamming his hand on the bed frame before forcefully standing up. His hand went to his forehead, rubbing his eyes in disappointment.

(Y/N) was a statue. She had never seen him mad before; she had no idea what to do. Don't get her wrong, she wasn't scared, she just wasn't sure what to say.

"Can't fuckin' do anything," he muttered under his breath.

She finally moved forward. "Hey, forget the bedding, it doesn't matter-"

"Yes it does," he turned. "We're hiding from a collapsed regime and I can't even make a damn bed. Plus you've done so much for me, I just wanted to help with something. I just wanted to be able to do something."

Oh. Suddenly, his anger was gone. It was replaced with a miserable helplessness. It made her chest tight; she needed to fix this.

"Buck, you don't owe me anything. I'm here because I wanted to help, not because I was expecting anything in return. And I don't know what you've been paying attention to, but I watched you carry the majority of those - heavy - bags the entire way here while simultaneously figuring out the way to the shelter while my brain was momentarily smooth. You were the voice of reason in that chaos we just escaped from, and it's a damn good thing you were so calm because I don't know if I could have handled the panic of the both of us."

"You could've," he murmured. "And I wasn't calm, I'm just used to this. I was trained for situations like this."

No, she wasn't going to lose to deflection.

"Regardless, you were a huge help. Seriously."

He still didn't look convinced.

"In fact, I feel more safe here with you than I would with Shuri and the Queen. You're like a super soldier body guard."

A look washed over his face that (Y/N) couldn't quite place. He looked at her quizzically, like he was trying to figure something out.

"You... feel safer with me?"

"That's what I said, yes."

"You're not like... worried about..."

"The Winter Soldier? No."

He sighed. "How can you be so sure? You have no idea if or when I might... you know."

"We are literally the only people here, and I don't plan on saying the trigger words. So unless you plan on saying them, I don't really think we have anything to worry about. And, even if you did 'you know,' you could definitely get away with it and no one would find the body."

He turned bright red. "What?!"

"I'm kidding! Sorry. But Bucky, you've been doing so well with me and Shuri, and honestly the Hydra programming might not even be there anymore."

"But we don't know for sure!"

"Bucky..." she pleaded, turning her head slightly as to say what is this about?

"I can't trust my own mind," he sighed looking at the floor. "I just don't wanna do anything bad. It's just - weird that you don't seem to be worried at all."

"Why is that?"

"Everyone sees me as a monster."

The room was dead silent. He wasn't looking at her, but if (Y/N) looked at him any harder, she was sure she'd burn a hole through his head. How could anyone see this man as a monster? Logically, she understood what other people saw. But personally, she couldn’t find it in her to perceive him like that. It just didn’t work. All she could find was gentleness, compassion, and sincerity.

"I can't see you as something you're not," she said, whisper soft. "I don't care if you hands are 'scarred from murder' or however you said it a few sessions ago. I trust them entirely."

He finally looked up at her, his face filled with something she couldn't quite place. It looked a bit like disbelief and then it changed into relief and then something else entirely. A slow smile crept up on his lips.

"...hand."

"What?"

"My hand. Singular. Not hands."

A deep, deep smile - to match the one on Bucky - grew on her face just before the pair started cracking up ridiculously. Perhaps this was an odd way of releasing the tension, fear, frustration, and exhaustion of the day. Nevertheless, laughter was cathartic. It was so cathartic that eventually (Y/N) could hardly catch her breath and Bucky's stomach hurt. This went on for several minutes.

In time, they both calmed down. She didn't remember when exactly it happened, but they were both sitting on the floor now. They sat in between the two bunk beds, facing one another, each back leaning against a respective bedpost.

The atmosphere was different now, but not in a bad way. It felt like 2 a.m. at a sleepover, when the conversations get drowsily deep, with slow voices and honest confessions. It was heavy eyelids and low inhibitions.

A fresh wave of exhaustion washed over her. She let her head fall slack against the bedpost, resting.

"Bucky, what were sleepovers like in the forties?" she asked softly, eyes closing ever so delicately. 

"Well," he started, getting into a story of his past with Steve and the couch cushions.

And that's how she fell asleep. Sitting on the floor, leaning against a bunk bed, and listening to his voice fade out into the background of her consciousness.

If only she knew how she would wake up: laying comfortably on one of the beds, with one blanket on top of her and another below her because he couldn't get the sheet to cooperate. With the pillowcase carefully draped atop the pillow instead of enveloping it because that's what one hand would allow. With the bed next to her being slept in with no blanket because he used his as the replacement for the sheet he couldn’t get to cooperate.

[mystic-deep]

"Sensei said girls love swans." | Okkotsu Yuuta x fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Just a small box of chocolates, bought on a whim, gifted for no apparent reason. Or so you say.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, good bad advices from Gojo.

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: I'm working on three other stories with Nanami, Gojo and Toji but had to write something for best boy Yuuta. We're getting volume 0 animated! This was done at the speed of light so please forgive any errors.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.29 k

Valentine’s Day was quite a surprise this year. You didn’t expect the world to just revert back to old habits so soon, but then again you understood the craving for what was once considered normal. More than a year had passed since the Shibuya incident and with Gojo Satoru finally being released from his prison, things were slowly calming down.

Two major changes came as a result of the near annihilation of Tokyo, one was that now the world was aware of the existence of curses and two was the high number of people that had awoken cursed energy. What were once empty classrooms and training grounds of the Jujutsu Tokyo High School, were now filled with first year students ready to learn from the best. Although the older generation was composed of just a handful of students, they were really the top of the Jujutsu world.

All of your senpais were impressive in their own right so all of them had gathered quite a following of first years. The most popular, by far, was Fushiguro Megumi, the one that possessed the Ten Shadows Technique of the Zen’in clan. A lethal combination of looks, power and status, or so your classmates claimed.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was the third year Okkotsu Yuuta. He was a rare sight on campus and whenever he was present he didn’t interact much with any of the first years. The first time you’ve met him was during a group mission where he was there to supervise. The curse ended up being a special grade and if Yuuta hadn’t jumped in to help you, you’d all be dead. You still remember the bitterness of your classmates when he offered his feedback. Clearly he was right on all points but he didn’t honey glazed any of his words. That incident had caused a string of nasty rumours to spread and everyone in your class began to avoid him as much as possible. You guessed no one was in a hurry to offer him any gifts today.

As for yourself, you tagged along with some of the girls from your class as they chose the best chocolates for their favourite senpais. You didn’t have anyone you really wanted to gift them to, so you bought a small box purely for selfish reasons.

You headed back to campus and as you approached the training grounds you noticed that a small crowd of students were already gathered there. In the middle of them stood Megumi whose arms could barely hold the large number of gifts he had received. The deadpan expression on his face made it clear he wasn’t enjoying the attention.

“You girls better hurry, Megumi-kun looks like he has reached his limit.”

Turning around you were greeted by Gojo who was also carrying quite an impressive quantity of Valentine’s gifts.

“Sensei is really popular.”

“Please don’t sound so surprised.”

As your little conversation went on, your friends quickly abandoned you in order to join the crowd.

“Not gonna join them?” You shook your head as your hands tighten on the handle of your backpack where your box of chocolates was hiding.

“I didn’t buy any chocolates...I mean I did buy chocolates just not for...I should probably head to class.” Feeling too ashamed to admit your selfish purchase, you hurried down the path to the main entrance before Gojo could question you further.

Just as you were about to reach your destination you suddenly noticed a figure not too far from you. Yuuta was strolling along the same path and his expression was not a happy one. Your earlier guess must have been correct judging by his slumped shoulders. Now you never truly worried yourself with his well being, but it just felt so incredibly unfair that he was marginalized like this. At the end of the day, even if he wasn’t easy to talk to, he was a responsible senpai who wouldn’t hesitate to jump in to help others when needed. With that thought in mind, you quickened your pace and called out to him.

“Okkotsu-senpai! Okkotsu-senpai, please wait!”

He stopped in his track and turned to look at you with a surprised expression.

“Y/n-chan, are you okay?”

You nodded as you caught up with him, impressed that he even bothered to remember your name, and opened your backpack to retrieve the box of chocolates.

“For you senpai, Happy Valentine’s Day!” You gave him the most sincere smile you could muster and handed him the small box. Oh well, better for your cavities you suppose.

With a trembling hand he took the small gift and grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you! I’ll treasure it!” It was just a box of cheap chocolates, you thought, definitely not worth the excitement.

“Urm I’m happy you like them. Anyway, have a good day, see you around!” You practically dashed to your classroom, cheeks red from embarrassment. You didn’t know why you were so nervous or why that silly grin of his made you so flustered.

As you sat down at your desk, you wondered if you did the right thing. You didn’t want him to believe you had feelings for him and you also hoped he didn’t think you did it out of pity. You just thought it was the right thing to do at that time and it was just a small gesture, definitely not worth a second thought.

Or so you hoped until White Day arrived and you found quite a surprising gift on your desk that morning. A large bouquet of roses, there must have been over a hundred. No note though, as if the person that had left them just expected for you to know whom they were from.

You could hear the whispers of your classmates and you shifted uncomfortably. You weren’t really popular, no reasons for someone to give you such an impressive present, so of course rumours began to spread.

As you sat on a bench during lunch break with the bouquet in your lap, you raked up your brain trying to figure out who would offer you flowers.

“Oh no, you don’t like them!”

Yuuta’s voice brought you back to reality and you blinked ever so slowly as you looked at his worried expression. Your eyes dropped to the red roses in your lap and then back to your senpai that was just a few feet away from the bench you were sitting.

“These...these are from you?” Well you did gift him that box of chocolates and this was White Day, technically he was supposed to return the gift. Still, a cheap box of bonbons couldn’t compare to the expensive bouquet that he had gifted back.

“Gojo-sensei said you’re supposed to buy something impressive in order to show your appreciation for the gift you received. I didn’t know what you liked and he suggested roses, he said all girls loved red roses.”

Of course it was Gojo Satoru, it was always Gojo Satoru.

“Senpai, thank you, but this is too much! Those chocolates weren’t really that expensive.”

“No, no, they were pretty good! I ended up eating the whole box! Gojo-sensei tried to steal one away, that didn’t end up well for him.” Good, you thought, he deserved it for unnecessarily complicating things.

“Well if you say so, then I’m happy. I’ve never received flowers before, well my father bought me a bouquet when I graduated middle school but I don’t think that counts.”

“I’ve never received chocolates before, so I guess we’re both at the beginning.” The beginning of what, you wondered, as he offered you a somewhat sly smile.

“I should get these to my room before they wither.”

“Yeah I should probably head to the training ground.” You said your respective farewells before going in opposite directions. This had been awkward to say the least and you were glad it was over.

However, naivety got the best of you. The next morning you were greeted by a large teddy bear that was placed in your seat. Your eyebrow began to twitch as you heard whispers spreading in the classroom.

“Hey is that from Okkotsu? Super creepy!”

“Yeah, poor Y/n-chan.”

“What do you mean by that?” Your patience had reached its limit and with narrowed eyes you turned to look at the girls you heard whispering.

“Don’t you know, Okkotsu curses his lovers!”

“Yeah, he becomes obsessed with them and then they die in mysterious ways!”

“That is literally the most idiotic thing I’ve heard in my life.” Sure, you knew the story of Rika, but from actual reliable sources you also knew that it was a tragic accident that happened when Yuuta was only a child. It was disturbing how they twisted the story just because they were afraid of him.

“If you have this much time to waste on spreading such stupid rumours then I suggest you channel that energy in training. Otherwise you’ll be stuck at grade 4 until the end of days.” As a grade 2 sorcerer yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have looked down on them, but for some reason the way they were acting towards Yuuta was just infuriating and you found yourself becoming quite protective.

You never snapped at them like this before, if anything you were considered quite docile, so the whole class fell silent. You grabbed the giant teddy bear from your seat and stomped towards the door, nearly bumping into Gojo as the later stepped inside the room.

“Where you going Y/n-chan? Class is about the start.”

“I’m going to find Yuuta!” You huffed and walked out of the classroom, knowing full well that you will probably get punished for your actions.

“Y/n-chan is so determined! Everyone, you should have more determination as well!” That was the last thing you heard as Gojo closed the door behind you.

You began your search for Yuuta, trying to ignore the looks that the faculty members you came across were giving you. You must have looked quite ridiculous, carrying that large teddy bear around.

You finally found him near the armoury, and judging from his sweaty appearance you guessed he had just finished training.

“Senpai!”

He looked at you, almost in a panicked way and you quickened your pace so he couldn’t make a run for it.

“Y/n-chan, what-”

“Senpai, this has to stop.” You really didn’t want to tell him your real motives from that day but you also couldn’t let this chain of gifts continue.

“That box of chocolates wasn’t initially for you. I bought it for myself, I only gave it to you because senpai looked so upset. I’m sorry that you misunderstood, it’s not pity or anything, I just thought you deserved it.” You didn’t even stop to breath, you had to let it all out and explain before you lost your nerve. “I’m really happy you liked them but I don’t deserve all these presents in return.”

You looked at him and expected to see anger or disappointment, instead you were greeted with light laughter.

“You’re really cute! Maki-san said not to tease you too much because you’re such a good girl. I guess she didn’t realize how much of a good girl you actually are.” The way he said ‘good girl’ made your heart skip a beat. It sounded almost provocative.

Within a second, he had closed the distance between the two of you and his hand reached to stroke your cheek ever so gentle. Suddenly he was there and you became hyperaware of his powerful presence. You noticed the pretty colour of his eyes, how his hand was just a bit rough and how that small smirk of his made your knees weak and your cheeks burn. You gulped and he seemed to enjoy your reaction.

“I don’t mind that the box of chocolates wasn’t for me. I’m just glad it gave me the opportunity to talk to you.” At this point you felt so bad you hoped the earth beneath you would just crack open and swallow you whole.

“Anyway, you should probably head to class before Gojo-sensei gets upset. Let me get that for you.” He reached for the teddy bear in your arms but you gripped it and pulled back.

“I would like to keep this, it’s a special gift from senpai and I’ll treasure it.” Sure this all began because of a silly box of chocolates but you were also happy that you finally got to see a glimpse of him that not many people got the chance to see. Now that you had a taste of it, you wanted more.

“Well I wasn’t planning on taking it away, just wanted to help you carry it.”

“It’s fine, the whole school saw me already so I might as well parade with it back to class.”

He studied your face for a few moments before his expression turned serious.

“Y/n-chan, do you think we could go-”

“I’d love to go on a date!”

You beat him to it but you wanted to make sure he knew, even before asking, that you really wanted to get to know him better.

“I see, I’m really happy.” His hand reached for yours and gripped it gently. It never failed to surprise you how cool and confident he looked at times and then he did a one hundred eighty and turned into this awkward and adorable mess.

“I must admit this is the first time I’ve asked someone out. I’ll be sure to ask Gojo-sensei-”

“Oh no, please promise me to never ask Gojo-sensei for advice concerning girls.” He was probably laughing like a mad man while giving Yuuta such cringe worthy ideas for your gifts.

“Oh but sensei said girls love swans and-”

“Never!”

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Peter Parker - SFW Alphabet

Masterlist

This is for MCU Peter (cuz some of the answers would be different if they were for others lol)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Peter loves affection, but he's got to work through all his nerves first. Just the idea of touching you sometimes is enough to make him start blushing and hiding into himself. But once he finally works through it, affection is always. He likes to receive it, but he LOVES to give it. He basically has all the love languages, but his major two are words of affirmation and physical touch.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Peter Parker is a good best friend...when he's there. He pays attention to all the little things and he always does right when it really counts. He'll geek out with you, help you no matter what, and try his best to make you happy no matter what. However if you don't know about him being Spiderman, it can be a real stress on the friendship, because he'll always seem distant. Once you know, it will be like everything falls into place. You finally understand why he does the things he does. Overall though, he's a stellar friend.

You'd probably become his friend because you sat next to each other in class, or you were already at the Avengers compound, and for whatever reason, the two of you immediately clicked.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

PETER LOVES CUDDLES. And when Peter wants to cuddle, he wants to CUDDLE. He wants to squeeze you and never ever let go. Ngl he'll probably fall asleep while cuddling you because when he's cuddling he's in PEAK zen mode. It's probably the most relaxed that he can be.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yeah he definitely wants to settle down, but he's scared to. It's not that he has commitment issues, it's just that he's so afraid and aware of the dangers of being with him. But if given the chance, he'd probably settle.

He's not completely terrible at cooking, May has definitely taught him a few things. But he's no chef. Let's be real he's probably had a bunch of moments of forgetting that something was in the oven. There will be lots of disasters. When it comes to cleaning, if pressed, he will clean. But don't be surprised when every room in the house is messed up again because of things that he'll "come back for later" that he never comes back for.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Oh he'd hate every bit of it, he'd dread over it for days and days. If Peter were to break it off, he'd do it face to face. He'd feel so bad about it, and if you start to cry he actually might comfort you in the midst of breaking up with you.

Best outcome, it was mutual and you guys end like friends. Worst outcome, he gets cold feet and actually just leaves you a note.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He's surprisingly cool about commitment, given the dangers of his life. Of course, he's hesitant, but when this dude falls, he falls HARD. So hard to where he'll commit and not think twice about it.

He'd wanna get married whenever it hits him I guess. Not right away, but it's not like he'd have you waiting forever.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically- As gentle as the average teenage boy I suppose lol. Well a little bonus because of how anxious he is of hurting you. 5/10

Emotionally- Peter's more anxious boi than soft crybaby. He wouldn't need comfort on everything 24/7, because he can actually handle way more than people give him credit for, but it's when he's going through something really personal or really traumatic when he needs that reassurance that everything will be alright. 6/10

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Peter doesn't mind hugs, but he's gotta be in the mood for one to really enjoy it, otherwise he's just going through the motions with it. Like if he's in the mood his brain is "oh my gosh you're hugging me this is beautiful you've graced me with your touch you wonderful specimen" but if he's not it's just like "oh... this is unexpected." I don't think he's super into hugs because I kind of like the headcanon that he's a bit of a germaphobe but I don't think he's super against them either. He's more in the middle where if it hits him, it hits him and if it doesn't, he doesn't want them.

He gets in the mood to hug like 20 times a day. You'll be beside him doing work and like out of nowhere. BOOM. Hugged. And then he just goes back to doing whatever he's doing except now he's blushing really hard while doing it.

Peter's hugs are really soft and quick (unless he's cuddling you, then it's really long). He just wants to feel your presence until he's satisfied. He's always really warm so that's a major plus.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not right away. It'll be whenever it feels right. And I picture the first l-word drop going one of three ways:

1) Quirky - you guys will be chilling/making out/watching a movie and he'll find himself feeling really sentimental and emotional for no reason and he'll just turn and be like, "hey, I love you". And it sort of catches you off-guard and he sees your expression (whatever it may be) and he immediately starts blushing and stammering and he's like "I-i mean- no I don't!..I-i mean I do!... but like- not unless you want me too! I-in fact I'll hate you if you want me-" and you have to cut him off with a kiss before he gets too wound up and you softly smile back like "I love you too, weirdo."

2) Sweet - he's thought about this for a long time (and even maybe told May and Ned about it) and he really wants to tell you but he doesn't know how and you notice that's he's been weird around you and always looks like he has something else on his mind (like more than usual) and you're getting pretty worried and after awhile you can't take it anymore and you confront him about it probably at the lunch table or in the hallways after school or at his apartment (is there some mission you don't know about? Is he breaking up with you? Is he okay?) and he's stuttering alot and he finally has to pause and compose himself before pulling you aside and softly telling you how we feels.

3) Angsty - after a particularly intense night at patrol (definitely with a casualty) he's perched on the top of a building, staring out at New York, feeling like the biggest failure alive. He's run down with guilt and the tears just won't stop. Hands shaking, he dials your number and you pick up and immediately start asking if he's okay once you hear his trembling voice. "I messed up," he mumbles before he breaks down and sobs out the entire story to you. You try your best to comfort him as best you can through the phone, trying to tell him (with no avail) that it's not his fault and that he can't save everyone. It takes a while, but he finally calms down enough to clearly take a swing, but not before he says, "look..I want you to know that I love you... and I'll do everything I can to always protect you...I promise you that...I can't lose you," he sobs. Given the situation, neither one of you really registers that this is his first time saying it, but it makes it a dozen times easier to start saying it more often from now on.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Peter's jealousy is probably the average amount for a guy. He doesn't do much with it though. He'll just get really quiet and maybe freak out to Ned about it later. Very subtle looks and jaw clenches but other than that, he's fine. Unless you're really attentive, you probably wouldn't notice.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

When he first started getting into the hang of first dates and stuff, his kisses were pretty fast and more like little pecks on the lips and stuff because he was always so nervous about messing up. But now that's he's gotten the hang of it, Peter's kisses (when he's not in a rush) are usually slow and sensual. He wants to do nothing but focus on you in that moment.

Well mostly on the lips of course. He'll lay his head on your shoulder alot when he's bored so every now and then when he's doing that he'll turn his head and give you a little kiss on your shoulder. If he's whispering in your ear in lunch he'll give a kiss on the cheek. Really though, once he gets the all his jitters out about it, he'll kiss you anywhere.

Peter probably likes to be kissed on the cheek and on the lips more than anywhere else

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Peter is amazing with kids. He'll always find a way to get along with them, and they usually warm up to his easy-going nature. He's a bit of a pushover when it comes to really nice kids so they usually love him because he'll give them anything. I'm not really one of talking about having kids, but he'd be a great father in the future. (But we're not in any rush for him to do that okay😂🤭)

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are spent, well first of all waking up (obviously), cuddling, finishing whatever movie you were watching the night before, Peter probably rambling a bunch about whatever he finds himself wondering about, playing video games, and basically just relaxing before May tells you it's time for school.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are spent goofing around with Peter and Ned at Peter's home or chilling with Peter which can literally be doing just about anything (making out, relaxing, deep talks, watching movies, doing homework, etc.). You can do practically anything with this guy.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Peter isn't the best about opening up, not because he wants to hide things, but because he isn't on the same wavelength as everyone else when it comes to "important" things to share. Like out of nowhere he'll find himself telling you something and you'll be like "woah I wish I you would've told me that earlier" and he'll just shrug and be like "oh I didn't know that was really important enough to tell". He doesn't tell anything slower or faster it's more like whenever it's on his mind or convenient for him to tell.

But for the most part, if you're important enough for you to know he's spiderman secret, he'll tell you pretty much anything.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Not easily angered at all. If anything he's more easily confused then angered. Like if you were trying to make him angry, he'd be more "why are you doing this🥺🤨?!" than "why are you doing this😡?!"

He'd only get angry easily if he'd been going through alot and a bunch of things have been building up, other than that, normally he's a pretty chill guy when it comes to losing his temper.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Oh he remembers practically everything you tell him. Even crap that you've probably forgotten about yourself, he knows. He notices every tiny thing, though he forgets the big stuff sometimes.

Ex: one day May asks him what he wants her to buy at the supermarket for breakfast and he says poptarts because he remembers that you like poptarts from that one time you briefly mentioned how much you liked them and he gets the kind that you like even though he doesn't really like it so that on the days you come over to his house you'll have something to eat...but like legit that same day he forgets that it's your anniversary😬

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He has many favorite moments, one of them being your first date. He was so nervous, and he showed up late, and he'd regretted letting May choose his outfit, and he hated himself for not choosing the restaurant because it'd show that he wasn't assertive enough, and he was pretty sure he stepped in dog crap while he was running to the restaurant and he just knew that he was the worst date ever until finally he got there and you were totally just fine about it. You told him to relax and that everything was fine and you were just glad to have him there, which in turn made him relax. He looked into your eyes and knew there was absolutely nothing to worry about and he had an amazing time.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's protective, but not suffocating. Like if he sees something happening to you from afar, he's not gonna step in unless you make it clear that you want him to. For the most part, he'll let you handle things yourself.

Peter's more like a "protect you from the unknown" kind of guy. He's gonna protect you from threats that you don't know are there, and that are probably much bigger than the two of you. Things like death or heartbreak. He'll probably break up with you to "protect" you, which, let's be honest, is complete stupid, albeit noble. Overall, he'll do anything in his power to keep you happy.

Peter doesn't really need protection more so... comfort. He knows the world he lives in. He can defend himself and all that, but at the end of the day, he just wants someone to tell him that everything's gonna be okay🥺

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

With Peter it's either extremely last minute but a little thoughtful (because he probably forgot) or extremely thought through with unbelievable effort. No in between. Truly a go big or go home type deal. Like for your birthday he's either getting you something he's researched on for months that he knew you'd love or you're getting a card that he bought from a Walmart on the way to school with a sloppily written love letter inside that he came up with off the top of his head. At the end of the day it's the thought that counts when it comes to Peter.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He thinks literally everything is his fault🙄. If something bad happens, and he feels that he could've done even the slightest thing to change it, he's gonna beat himself up about it no matter what what you try to say.

Also he's a really busy guy. So if you're one of those girls that needs to be kept or need your boyfriend there all hours of the day, Peter's probably not for you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not too concerned. Like of course he wants to look good or cool or whatever, but he's also learned to be pretty comfortable with himself (at least as far as looks go). He gets pretty insecure sometimes but for the most part he's okay with his looks. He'll totally do himself up if he's trying to impress someone though.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Depends on how close you've become. If he only liked you, he'll be okay. If he loved you, yeah, he'll feel incomplete without you. But only if you break up or if you're hurt or lost or something. If the two of you just haven't seen each other for a while he'll be fine. He's not that sentimental.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Peter has a skirt kink. Skirts. They make him weak. He found this out about himself when he started dating Gwen Stacy. He will practically break his neck to see you in a skirt.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who has extremely poor hygiene. Peter's not the best at hygiene. He's definitely skipped brushing his teeth from time to time, but someone who's a complete slob? It'll just make him feel bad for you. It's a turn off for him. You won't get his affection but you will get his pity.

Someone obnoxious or aggressive. Peter, although anxious, is overall a pretty chill guy. If someone was just on 100 every time he saw them, ngl they'd probably weird him out. Like of course he wants someone with their own personality, but he wants someone with a level of coolness and obnoxious and aggressive people just aren't cool.

Z = Zzz (What are some sleep habits of theirs?)

Peter wants to hold something when he sleeps. When he was little, he used to sleep with a stuffed animal, and once he got older he broke out of it. But when he slept with you for the first time (sexually/nonsexually, doesn't matter) all that came rushing back. He'll hold you tightly in his sleep and won't let go unless you make him.

Hope you liked it!!😁😁😁

Tagging mutuals: @allegra-writes, @angelsparkers, @hey-its-grey, @spideyyeet, @sunkissedspidey, @underoosjae, @chaoticpete, @spidey-reids-2003, @thesherlockianavenger, @bubblebucky

[clonecest-bin-account]

Thank you for doing this!

Bingo box; mischief, pairing: tech/wrecker(I'm also happy their just friends), prompt: Wrecker chalenges Tech to a throwing contest. He didn't say Tech couldn't use technology.

(AHsdhshkfdhs I love)

“Why should I even agree to do this?” Tech immediately asks.

“Because it’s fun!” Wrecker replies, as if Tech doesn���t know his actual motive, something that he doesn’t hesitate to make known.

“No, it’s because you like these stupid games because you always win,” he says in fact. For what other reason would Wrecker come to him of all people challenging him to a throwing competition?

This is nothing new however: Wrecker does tend to get restless, and when he does he often turns to challenging the others to some sort of contest, anything to battle the boredom. It’s not like Tech doesn’t understand him, but he also doesn’t want him to get cocky after an easy win, because let’s face, he’d never be able to beat him.

Wait, unless…

 “You know what?” he says. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Awesome! Then we--”

“But not now.”

“What do you mean ‘not now’?” Wrecker asks, confused.

“I mean that I need time to prepare. What? You thought I’d be able to do it immediately?” Tech replies, patting on Wrecker’s bicep. “I don’t wanna lose to you.”

At that, Wrecker burst into laughter; it isn’t a mocking laughter though, he genuinely finds it funny but not in a bad way.

“Alright, I’ll give you some time,” he says, jovially slapping Tech’s shoulder and almost sending him fumbling ahead. “Come find me when you’re ready!”

Tech has to fight really hard to hide the smirk on his face, but he manages. “Don’t worry big guy, I will.”

 It takes less time than Tech thought to get ready, which is good because eventually Wrecker would’ve grown bored of waiting and he would’ve sought him out to finally do this challenge.

It wasn’t easy to hide his project from him, given how close they are, Tech had to utilize every single moment in which they weren’t together to work on it. Thankfully he could’ve counted on the others’ help who, having gotten wind of Tech’s plan, did their best to keep Wrecker away from him; they’re true friends.

Now that he’s finally ready, however, he doesn’t need to avoid it anymore, and actually, he goes straight to him. It’s not hard to find him, Tech only had to follow the noise - he never was that stealthy to begin with.

Mh, looks like Wrecker’s doing some weights. Tech almost feels bad for interrupting him so he just leans against the doors and waits for him to be done, which might be just an excuse to admire his body. What? If Wrecker didn’t want to be watched, he could’ve sealed the doors. Besides, those back muscles look so good that Tech can’t help but to stare…

 He chuckles at the startled way Wrecker turns towards him when he finally speaks - he hadn’t noticed him at all.

“Hey there, big guy…”

“Holy-- Tech! How long have you been there?” Yes, Wrecker really hadn’t noticed him.

“A while,” Tech replies, a smirk on his face that gets soon mirrored by the other.

“I see, I see. Enjoying the show, huh?” he comments, flexing his arm. Tech has to bite his lower lip or else he’d say something that would completely deviate from his original purpose.

Concentrate, Tech! Now’s not the time to get distracted!

“Not really, actually,” he says. “I came here for the challenge.”

Wrecker still doesn’t drop the smirk. “Oh? You think you’re ready?”

“I don’t think I’m ready, I am,” Tech replies, trying very hard not to sound cocky, but he can’t help it, not with his secret weapon. Sure, it might be cheating, but Wrecker never set any rule about using technology, so technically he’s not breaking them.

Wrecker picks up on the tone, however, and he looks more than intrigued. He’s figured that Tech must have some sort of plan, which makes him curious.

“Let’s get going then.”

 They walk out of the Havok Marauder, not wanting to break anything inside, and get settled on the clearing they have landed. Miles and miles of plain fields, the perfect zone for a throwing contest.

“What do we get if we win?” Tech can’t help but to ask.

“Huh?” Wrecker replies, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t really think about that…”

Typical Wrecker, he throws himself into any kind of challenge without even thinking about what comes next.

“How about who wins gets a kiss?” he proposes.

“But we already kiss all the time!” Wrecker replies. “What would make that special?”

“It would be a victory kiss…” Tech explains, though he himself isn’t that convinced about that. Kissing was the first thing that came to mind, that why he suggested it.

Wrecker thinks about it just a moment, then he nods.

“Yeah, makes sense. I think…” he says, turning immediately towards Tech again. “So, are we doing this?”

“Ladies first,” Tech jokes, though he’s serious about wanting Wrecker to go first.

 They’ve agreed to throw one EMP grenade each, since they don’t want to cause actual harm to the environment. That kind of grenades is harmful only to droids, so they should be safe.

Wrecker weighs the one in his hand, juggling it a bit. His stare is fixed ahead of him, observing a potential target.

The rules are simple: whoever throws the grenade furthest wins.

Tech smiles, stretching his hand. If only Wrecker would’ve noticed that his armor is slightly different from the usual he might’ve questioned what he did to it, which by the way is nothing too major: just a thruster that will help him launch the grenade further and give it a little boost.

He feels a bit bad about what he’s doing, but how does that saying go? In war and love there are no rules. Sure this might not be as serious as actual war, but hey they’re still soldiers, so he guesses it counts. He isn’t sure about that, and actually is pretty sure that it’s just some excuse that he’s ramble-y brain came up with, but whatever. Not everything has to be serious: sometimes he might just want to do something just for the sake of doing it, or just for the sake of general mischief in this particular case.

 Wrecker goes completely still, just for a moment, then he throws the grenade. It flies through the air through an ample arc. Tech doesn’t have his bucket on so he can’t calculate the exact distance, but he doesn’t need it to discern that it’s a lot; it makes him wonder if even the help of technology will be enough to win this. Not that it would be such a huge loss, but c’mon he does have some pride.

They’re barely able to hear the sound of the EMP grenade detonate, which prompts Wrecker to turn towards Tech with an excited gaze.

“Pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah…” Tech can’t help but to admit, sounding genuinely impressed. Ok, maybe he won’t be that mad if he loses after all.

 It’s his turn now.

He takes Wrecker’s place, observing the field in front of him. He didn’t want to use his bucket to calculate the trajectory because he felt that would’ve been too much cheating, but now he finds himself regretting it.

He does his best to understand the wind’s direction and use this information to figure out what his best throwing angle will be. Eventually, however, Wrecker has to yell at him: “We don’t have all day!”

“R-Right, sorry…” he apologizes, deciding to wind it. If it works, good, if it doesn’t, at least he tried.

He almost dislocates his shoulder for who strongly the machinery in his armor pulls at it, and after throwing the grenade, Tech finds himself stumbling a few steps ahead before finding some semblance of equilibrium back.

In a moment Wrecker’s by his side, holding him up.

“Shit, Tech! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” the other replies, not wanting Wrecker to worry for nothing.

 They wait, they wait and they wait, but after loosing track of the grenade, they still haven’t heard the sound of its detonation, which means…

The realization hits them both at the same time, making them turn towards each other, Tech with a cocky gaze and Wrecker with a surprised one.

“Looks like I--”

“No way!” Wrecker immediately exclaims. “Something must’ve gone wrong!”

“Yeah, like?” Tech challenges him.

“Oh I don’t know… Maybe it just didn’t detonate!”

“Wrecker, they’ve never not detonate, so why it should’ve done it now?”

“I just…”

“Face it, big guy, I won.”

 Every bad feeling Tech had about this dissipates into nothing as he watches Wrecker try to make sense of all this. It’s really fun to watch.

“You used some trick! There’s no other way!”

“So what? You never mentioned anything about them,” Tech points out, the smile still on his face.

“… Shit, you’re right,” Wrecker finally realizes. This is as close as an admission that he lost that Tech is going to get, so he’ll let that be enough. Besides…

 He turns his face towards Wrecker, exposing his cheek.

“So? I’m waiting for my prize.”

He hears Wrecker huff, then he suddenly grabs Tech by the chin, forcing him to turn his face again so that he can press their lips together, which isn’t what Tech was expecting - not that he’s complaining, of course.

When they pull away, Wrecker’s still pouting, though it’s obvious that he’s forcing himself to keep it up.

“Happy now?” he asks, and Tech can’t help but to laugh, leaning closer for another kiss.

“Yes.”

[itsclydebitches]

1/3 I'm that 5part Ironwood anon and I just realized there is one more possibility for Ironwood but I don't know what the emotional/character payoff or development would be for the central cast. I could see maybe Ruby & co. finally (at least partially) realize that they did wrong by Ironwood, find away to assuage his fears and save Mantle & Atlas. And I know it's going to take just endless fighting (verbal and physical). But in the end it would amount to Ironwood sacrificing himself.

I would be very pleased if we got an arc where the group admits to having done wrong, dropped the arrogant attitudes, and then strove to do better in the future. I don’t think we’ll get it, but one can hope! As for Ironwood, I’d be “happy” with that kind of heroic death that semi-pleases everyone/deals with the writing problems that keeping him may create... meaning I’m not happy we’ve come to this, but compared to Ironwood dying as a villain, Ironwood getting locked up in jail (forgotten by the show), or Ironwood becoming a Volume 6-7 Ozpin that everyone just ignores or criticizes? It’s the best of a bunch of bad outcomes. 

But in thinking through the group’s response to his death I... can’t easily imagine one. Again, meaning that if we’re talking about the RWBY characters in general Ironwood’s death SHOULD be quite the blow, but this version of the cast? I haven’t seen anything since at least Volume 5 to suggest that his death would generate more than a passing, “RIP”:

Ozpin, while not dying, was lost to the group for a significant amount of time and no one reached a point where they began weighing that loss against their anger at him. They act happy to be rid of him and given the similar anger (Nora yelling) and betrayal (telling Robyn, fighting the Ace Ops) I’d expect the same with Ironwood. Why mourn the loss of someone who we saw as an obstacle? 

Adam died and, while not a hero/ally, was definitely a significant part of Blake and Yang’s life. That generated only a short ‘I don’t want to kill’ conversation (which frankly could have come at any point)

Oscar heavily implied that he’d die (merge) someday and the group smiled through that 

Penny’s resurrection had absolutely no weight to it. Despite seeing Ruby collapse crying at her death, she now apparently hasn’t missed her enough to react in any significant way when she gets her back 

At no point in Volume 7 does the group acknowledge what Ironwood should mean to them: the guy who supports Winter, stood up for Weiss, gave Yang her arm, is the (rocky) friend of Uncle Qrow, etc. Whatever emotional connection he had to the group has been stripped away. Even new actions were shrugged off. Stuff like giving them licenses early or trusting them with his Salem plan - even just working alongside him for what we know is a matter of weeks at least - never come into play when they decide things like telling Robyn or threatening to fight him. There’s no hesitation to turn on him 

The arc of the group - particularly Ruby - re-evaluating their actions requires some level of care towards Ironwood. They have to regret what they’ve done in order to question it. But they don’t demonstrate regret anymore. Oh, they might give very general hero speeches about it - idk if I’m doing things right (Ruby), I don’t want to kill (Blake) - but when it comes to their actual actions they don’t hesitate. Ruby says she wants to work together with Harriet, but when it’s clear Harriet won’t do things her way Ruby metaphorically shrugs, rolls up her sleeves, beats her unconscious, and then hides her somewhere - with the story making a joke of it. This is no longer a cast that does bad things but in a “I really, really don’t want to do this, oh god, this is horrible, I’m so so sorry but I have to” way, priming them to make up with those they’ve harmed when they realize that there is another option. Because they never wanted to harm them in the first place. Ruby... acts like she enjoys harming them. She sneers at Cordovin. She taunts Harriet. She says she doesn’t want to fight but when she does it’s full of arrogance and glee. Ruby treats those around her like true enemies who she is happy - or at least indifferent - about hurting, rather than allies she doesn’t actually want to fight (and this is echoed by things like Qrow insisting on fighting Clover). There’s nothing to build that kind of arc on. Which doesn’t mean it won’t happen - RWBY has certainly introduced things out of nowhere before! lol - but as a canon-based theory I can’t see it. 

Same with Ozpin. A year and a half and the show did NO work to lay the groundwork for his return. We have no reason to believe that the group will react differently to him now than they did before because not once have they expressed regret in driving him away, so I’m interested (nervous...) to see how that reunion will go down. Given the lack of regret, I think it’s quite possible we’ll get either a) grudging acceptance because Ozpin saves them in some major way (though the airship had no impact on their perspective...) or b) an “apology” like the one Cordovin got: 'Sorry you made us do what we did, but glad to see you’ve come to your senses,’ given once Ozpin says he’ll follow Ruby, likely spouting some nonsense about how great a job she’s been doing to “justify” him giving up his position as leader. Ironwood may well be the same: ‘Too bad he died, but at least he died a hero instead of an evil dictator opposing us. Okay. Time to go!’ 

(I’m salty too XD) 

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

These Violent Delights Ch. 4

The Black Card

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: Talk of murder, that’s pretty much it in this one. The next few chapters will have more warnings. 

Author’s Note: Smaller chapter than the last two, but it’s definitely needed to help progress the storyline. I do hope you guys enjoy this one!

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

<< Chapter 3 || Series Masterlist || Chapter 5 >>

Elijah quickly walked into the conference room. "What do we have?" He asked as he looked over at the other officers in the room. 

He had gotten a call moments ago that he was needed down at the station asap. Without hesitating, he was there at the station in record time. All he knew was the information coming in was about Damon Salvatore. 

"We got word that Damon will be making a few calls today." One officer said, looking over at Elijah. "No doubt calling Rosa to confirm that she got the black card. "

"We've got a direct line to overhear the conversation, courtesy of Rebekah." Another officer added before handing Elijah a case file.

Elijah's eyes scanned the file. The only thing that was considered noteworthy was that Damon had already called Elena minutes before he arrived.  Closing the file, he tossed it on the nearest desk. 

"Alright, all ears in this room need to be open." He said as he addressed the room. "Whatever piece of information you think might be of use, write it down. If Damon is making this call to Rosa I want to know where she is in this city.  If I catch anyone that so much as yawns during this call, you'll have me to deal with."

A throat cleared, getting Elijah's attention. "Sir, he just made the call."

"Bring it up." Elijah said with a nod. 

The officer connected the call to the speakers in the room. The ringing played through the speakers, and it seemed as if everyone held their breath for a second. A moment later, the call connected. A distorted voice answered. 

"Are you fucking nuts, Damon?" The distorted voice asked, earning a chuckle from Damon. 

 "I take it you've picked up the kitten." His voice clear over the line. 

"Obviously. You know I don't mix business with personal affairs." The voice said, causing Elijah's eyebrow to rise.  "This is definitely crossing my line of mixing the two."

"Take note of that." Elijah said as he snapped his fingers, wanting someone to take down that as a note. If Rosa didn't entangle herself in personal affairs, there might not be a hit after all. At least Elijah was hopeful about that thought. "Rosa isn't happy with who is on the hit list." he noted. "She might actually have a heart."

"Come on, Rosa." Damon said, not missing a beat. "You know this type of kitten a lot more than anyone else. You can train it in your favor until you get it to Elena."

"You're missing the point-"

"I get the point, Rosa. I get how attached you used to be. But things changed from the last time we were all in the sandbox and I need this done."

That was enough for everyone in the room to know Rosa had known her target intimately. This hit wasn't just some random person that Damon needed to be handled. It was someone who they both knew. 

"Run a list of known associates to Damon." Elijah said, looking over at an officer. "Go far as back as you can. Including classmates. There's a connection in there somewhere."

"Don't expect me to do the works on this. I'm changing it to a drop and run."

The chuckle that came through the line from Damon was dark. "Just think of all the fun you'll have beforehand. You might hate dropping it off later but at least you'll enjoy it while you can. While dropping and running would be easier, you know you've been waiting a while for this."

"Fuck off, Damon."

"Has anyone ever found out what 'the works' meant?" Rebekah asked as she entered the room. 

"Still working on that." Elijah mumbled as he listened to the next part of the call.

"It seems I've struck a nerve."

"No shit. I've got half a mind to back out of this and return it to sender."

"But no one does it as good as you do. Come on, Rosa. You promised if I called, you'd answer. Plus it'd be a shame if I had to have a talk with V about this."

"I dare you Salvatore. It'd be an eye for an eye and there's only one of them that's currently a sitting duck. While a personal visit would be fun, I have friends in low places that would be willing to help a girl out."

"There it is." Elijah said with a small smirk. "Our list can be narrowed by anyone with a name starting with a V or even their nickname. That's where our ticket to Rosa will be."

"As much as Rosa has been a pain in my side since taking this position, I do enjoy her threats against the Salvatores." Rebekah said with a smirk pulling at her lips. "We'll need a list of anyone who has access to both Salvatore brothers."

Damon sighed. "Look, I want this taken care of, and you're the best I've got. It's a bad one to you, and I get that. But name your price, and I'd gladly pay it if you don't walk away from it. We don't need anyone else being involved."

There was a brief pause in the conversation. It was as if Rosa was debating on whether or not she wanted to do this. Both Elijah and Rebekah held their breath. They hoped it would be easier for them all if Rosa just opted out. 

"Triple the payment, upfront." The voice said a moment later. "And I'm cleared from your database."

"Done." 

"That is one hell of a payout." Elijah noted as he looked towards his sister. 

Rebekah nodded her head in agreement. "He's got enough to do just that."

"I'm serious, D. After this, I'm out. Our contract will be over and I expect you to find someone else."

"Deal. We won't discuss business at the dinner table anymore." 

Without another word from Rosa, the line went dead. 

A thought crossed Rebekah's mind as the call came to an end. "That payout is so she can completely disappear after she makes the hit."

"Looks like we'll just have to catch her before she does." Elijah said with a small smirk pulling at his lips.

_____

Adriana threw the phone across the room the moment she ended the call. She wanted nothing more than to strangle Damon for this black card. Damon knew all of her reasoning for why Adriana never wanted to mix business with personal dealings. And yet here she was. 

After seeing Elijah's name at the bottom of the tablet's screen, Adriana couldn't get herself to go to dinner. She couldn't face the girls knowing that Elijah was her intended target. She couldn't sit there and pretend that everything would be okay. That she wasn't having an internal panic attack because she was supposed to kill the only positive best friend she had. 

She hadn't even bothered to look at the complete file. The initial shock of it all forced her to shut down the tablet and put it away until now. She couldn't bring herself to look at any of the details just yet. Her heart wasn't ready for it. 

It wasn't ready to find the traces of her past inside of it. Or learn the new things Elijah had gone through while she was gone. But this was a part of the job that she usually would breeze through. And with every passing second, it was a reminder that she was about to cross a line. 

Part of her believed that she would already know a lot of the information contained in it. Even though it had been years since she last spent more than a few hours with Elijah, she still knew a lot of the details of their past.  And that alone is what made her the right person for the job, just as Damon mentioned. 

What she wasn't ready for at all were the plans Damon had forced on her. "The works" was a term that she and Damon used when Damon wanted Adriana to weasel her way into the target's life. Once she was in and they were least expecting, Adriana would make her kill. 

But this was Elijah Mikaelson. The very guy that she had known for the majority of her life. He was the one that could easily tell when there was something wrong with her. And now, she was going to have to put on a brave face if she went through with this. 

If

Now it was a matter if she could do it or not. She may have demanded triple the payment, but she didn't believe Damon would give it to her. But when Damon wanted something, he usually got it. What made it worse was Adriana never failed at her assignments. It's what made her the best on the market. 

Elijah Mikaelson was going to either break her streak or make it so she could disappear from her life as Rosa. Adriana just didn't know which one she wanted to go with yet. She knew from the moment she left home that her life as Adriana Vega was a distant memory. Her life as Rosa was about to end if she completed this job.  But it was the ghost of her past that was about to make or break everything. 

_____

"What happened at Dinner last night?" Bonnie asked as she handed Adriana a cup of coffee. 

Taking the cup, Adriana led her down the street. "I took a look at the travel arrangements after I left the bar last night." 

"And?" Bonnie asked as she walked right beside her. She brought the cup up to her lips, taking a drink. 

"I couldn't face the three of you after I found out who it was." She admitted. "This was never a life you were a part of-"

"That's bullshit." Bonnie said, cutting her off. "While we may not have known the life you were in, we were still a part of the same crowd."

Adriana's tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. "Same crowd or not, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place when it comes to this hit. Damon crossed a line with this." Her words had barely been above a whisper. 

Bonnie sighed. "How close is this person?" 

"We were all in the sandbox together." Adriana said with a nod. "But I can't give you more than that." She shook her head. 

Bonnie nodded her head in understanding. "You obviously care for this person. I know this is going to be hard for you to take care of."

"Taking care of it is the easy part. It's getting my emotions in check that will be the hardest." Adriana's voice was emotionless as she spoke about it. 

"What happens if you don't go through with this?" Bonnie asked curiously. She probably shouldn't have asked, but she couldn't help it with how Adriana was looking at the moment. 

Adriana thought about her answer. All she could think about was Greta's voice in her mind at that moment. 

"You are not to fail." Greta said as she circled Adriana. 

Adriana stood tall as Greta took her steps around her. After all the training Greta had put her through, Adriana was the perfect killing machine. Everything Greta knew, she taught Adriana, and she made it better. 

"And if I fail?" Adriana asked the moment Greta was back in front of her. 

The woman took a few steps towards her until she was right in her face. "You may as well as turn that pistol on you before the buyer finds out. It's never pretty, Rosa. Cause once they get a hold of you, you're gonna wish you had done it yourself."

Sighing, Adriana brought the cup up to her lips and took a drink of the hot liquid. "It's either them or me. And I kind of like having the air in my lungs."

"Damon wouldn't-" Bonnie began, but Adriana stopped her. 

"This is a business." Adriana stopped in her tracks and looked over at Bonnie. "I knew what I was getting myself into the moment I left. Salvatore is no different from his father, and I've seen what is done to those who go against Damon's orders."

Adriana didn't miss the way Bonnie's eyes widened at her words. As much as Bonnie had been learning from Elena and Caroline, they were blind to what went on behind closed doors.  It is evident to Adriana that this wasn't the world Bonnie belonged in. 

"Are you going to go through with it?" Bonnie asked a moment later. 

Adriana shrugged. "We'll see how deep down the rabbit hole I go tonight."

_____

Marcel's eyes scanned the list of connections to Damon Salvatore that started with a V. The list still held a decent amount of people on it. Most of them had a record. While a part of the list was still locked away and a few others were six feet under, two names were sticking out to him the most. 

Shaking his head slightly, he sighed. The names were going to make things harder. Getting up from his seat and grabbing the paper, he headed over towards Rebekah and Elijah, who had been talking away about the case. 

"You guys might want to see this." He said as he approached them and held out the paper. 

Rebekah took the paper, and her eyes scanned the list. "Is this the known associates of Salvatore?"

"Yes." Marcel said with a nod. "Going back as far as the sandbox."

It was as her eyes landed on the same names Marcel had taken notice of that they widened. "That doesn't mean anything." 

Elijah took the list away from his sister as she spoke. He went through the list quickly, trying to figure out what they had been talking about. His heart dropped at the names. 

"We knew this." He said, shaking his head.  "Vega and Salvatore were always tied together."

"You heard Rosa, though." Marcel said, looking at Elijah. "Only one of them was a sitting duck."

"It might be time to go speak with them and see what they know." Rebekah said, placing her hand on her brother's shoulder. "Victor is the only one who is still out in the open, and he might just be the connection to Rosa we need."

Elijah sighed. "Adriana isn't going to like this."

“The Mikaelsons to come and question a Vega isn’t going to sit well with either of them.” Marcel added. 

“It might be better to give her a call as a heads up.” Rebekah said as she turned to grab her things.

Marcel grimaced. “She’ll still give us hell.”

Elijah shook his head. “Better to have before than after we get there.” He pulled his phone out and dialed her number. 

The phone rang a few times before Adriana answered. 

“Hello?”

“Adri, I hate to be the barer of bad news, but we are going to be heading over to speak with your father.” Elijah said as watched Marcel grab his things. 

“Is there a reason, Mikaelson?” Elijah hadn’t missed the venom in her words. 

“We believe he may be able to help us out in a case.” He wanted to give her as much information as possible without actually discussing the case. 

“What case? The same one you questioned Caroline for?”

“Yes.” He said with a nod, even though she couldn’t see it. “Just a couple questions. If you’d like someone to be there, we’ll wait.”

“If my father leaves in cuffs from the house after you are done asking your questions, you won’t like what comes next.”

A small smirk pulled at Elijah’s lips. “Is that a threat, Adri?”

Adriana’s chuckle came through the line before she hung up.

Always & Forever Tag:

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@zillahvathek​ @obsessedwithvampires​ @alien-sida

[sitontheground]

#WitchesForBLM

So, I know I don't exactly post much, if at all, but in light of recent events in the US the majority of witches on both tumblr and tik tok have decided that on Friday June 5th, we were all going to be casting spells of protection for the protesters as well as hexing and cursing the cops and the white supremacists who oppose them.

While I am not American (I'm from Canada) nor am I a person of color but I have always been one for activism and fighting for the rights of those whose voices aren't heard or are purposefully silenced. I don't post about it because I don't post much of anything at all. This platform, for me, isn't about making my voice heard but appreciating others' work and words. I also don't particularly care for speaking about my craft much because it is something I find very personal and don't much wish to have others peering in on my personal affairs.

And yet, despite my private nature and lack of desire to post about my activism, I have made the decision to share what I did during the full moon to work this cause into my craft.

For any who have questions or complaints about how I did what I did or why, my craft is my own and I just follow what feels right. If you try and do or say anything to me that I feel is in anyway attacking me and my practice I'm just going to block you. You have no place sticking your nose in my work and I'll not thank you for it.

My Full Moon BLM Support Ritual

As a preface, a lot of the ingredients and items I used were already prepared. Most by happenstance as they are things that I typically keep on hand. The only thing I didn't have in my back pocket before I began was one of the sigils I used.

I also meditated facing the south. Facing the direction of the people I wanted to protect.

Ingredients:

Charged water (I used storm water*)

Charged crystal (I used my fluorite point for the reason that it often amplifies my emotions*)

Needle

Black thread

Orange paper**

Purple paper**

Stick of charcoal (for drawing)

Sigil of protection

Sigil to hex the oppressors

Sachet of protection powder***

Music to increase emotion**** (optional, to be played during both halves of the ritual)

Note: both of the sigils that I used will be shown below

I started when I heard whispers from the witchblr community members that I follow about the full moon being used to help the protesters. That day there was a storm where I live so I was already collecting storm water, but I made sure to separate some for the specific intent of using it on the full moon.

Friday night, I gathered my ingredients and created a sigil for protecting the protesters. I am aware that the eclipse would likely have a negative effect on most protection spells, but the spell I used was one that I created and use without the power of the full moon more often than not. The power of the spell comes entirely from a sacrifice I make for it, which I will explain in more detail later.

Take the storm water, the sigil of protection and the protection powder.

Meditate on the sigil to charge it.

Take a pinch of the powder (A Pinch. You don't need more than that!!!) and sprinkle it in the water.

Swirl the water clockwise 3 times to increase the power of the powder while mixing it in (I had the water in a small Mason jar with a lid so I could swirl it in large movements to incorporate the powder properly without spilling)

Take your right index finger and dip it in the water

Drip 3 drops onto the paper with the sigil

Meditate on the sigil again, focusing on the power of the water sinking into the lines of the sigil

Drink the water with the protection powder to cast the spell

Fold the paper with the sigil on it 3 times, being careful not to rip the wet paper, and leave it in a window or outside until daylight.

Note: the protection powder tastes Bad. Really really really bad. This is why a pinch is more than enough. I usually keep something around to wash the taste out of my mouth when everything is all said and done. This time I used hibiscus water, but usually I use tea.

And that's all there is to the first part of the ritual. Really that can be done at anytime for anyone as long as you have a sigil that corresponds with them.

The next part of this was the part where I actually drew upon the power of the moon.

Take the other sigil, the needle and black thread, and the charged crystal.

Meditate with the crystal in your dominant hand and the hexing sigil in your other focusing on the power that the crystal is feeding into you and pushing it out with your intent through the sigil in order to truly focus the energy you're sending out.

Tear the paper with the sigil on it in until it is in small pieces. As you rend it apart, feel the fire of your anger and the anger of all those fighting for this cause and send it out into the world with every tear in the paper.

Using the needle and the black thread, pierce the center of every piece of the paper until they are all strung up.

Bring all of the pieces together on the string and wrap the thread around the 3 times

Tie a knot in the thread.

Wrap the thread and tie the knot 2 more times.

Cut the thread and cast away the bundle of thread and paper however you see fit (burning, burying, tossing in the trash. whatever works for you)

And that’s that on that. I began my work at midnight on the full moon and when I was finished I was exhausted. I had a headache and my hands were shaking and I just wanted to crawl into my bed so much that I almost forgot to ground myself at the end which would have made everything so much worse the next time I woke. If I were to do it again, and I probably will, I’d make sure to give myself some time in between spells, which I did not in this case. In fact, I’d suggest that if you were to attempt something similar to this you should do them completely separately. However, due to that fact that the moon was in Gemini it felt right for me to complete two spells during it.

And now onto the notes.

*In regards to my choices of charged water and crystal, I have to note that I base my practice by what feels right at the moment. I’ve gone into spells with something in my hand that, by the time I get around to using it during the casting process, it no longer feels like the right tool/ingredient to use and I have gone to find what does feel right, or at least what feels best. The use of storm water has to due with how the chaos and anger that comes from the people on the front lines of this movement feels to me like a storm overhead. They were patient and they brewed this storm for centuries, waiting for us to notice it and do something to lessen the blow that it would cause. But eventually, as all storm must, the thunder rang out and the sweeping gales of wind told everyone just what was going on. Storm water, for this particular variation of my protection spell, seemed very appropriate. I used my fluorite point because whenever I’m working a particularly emotional spell, whether it is my emotion or someone else’s, I use this crystal because it amplifies what I’m feeling and it gives that emotion power.

Also this is my fluorite point.

**As most will suspect, the colors of the paper do signify different things, but if you don’t just happen to have colored paper hanging around white paper would work too. Again this was something that I just figured felt right at the time. I used the purple paper for the protection sigil. Purple, to me, is a regal color that signifies wisdom, power and good fortune. I used the orange paper for the hexing sigil because orange is the most infuriating and aggressive color I could think of (psychologically speaking the color orange is the most likely to send a person into a fit of rage). 

***Alright, so for most of the above I have been rather vague when it comes to the protection powder, but that’s because it is a recipe of my own creation that I have reliably used for a couple of years now and I’m proud of it. It was one of the first things I ever did when I started my craft and I haven’t ever felt like something that I should spread to the masses. Now, however, I don’t feel that same hesitation when it comes to giving the recipe so here it is. 

1 part garlic powder

1 part  cumin

2 parts cinnamon

1 park Himalayan pink salt

1 sprig of cedar, dried and crushed as small as you can make it

When I first made this recipe, I didn’t do anything with it besides mix it all together and put it in a small velvet bag that I got with an old pair of headphones. I soon learned that just mixing together a couple of spices doesn’t exactly create a protection spell and thought it a failure. right as I was about to tear the page with the recipe from my spell book, I decided to meditate on it for a while. That night, I took the little bag with the powder into both of my hands and began to meditate. When I came out of it, I realized that 4 hours had passed by and I could feel the energy from the powder in the bag. So, to make long stories short, you have to key this powder to yourself first. Since then, I have used it as a protection for others by using the same powder that I mixed a couple of years ago that has protected me for that long. I take some of that powder and, using the charged water, I key it to the other that I want to protect, and then by drinking the water I am sacrificing the strength of my protection spell in order to cast one on someone else. This is why I didn’t see an issue doing this spell during the eclipse, which I have read can be a force of undoing. I had no issue casting a hex during the eclipse because I wanted to see the undoing of those that I was trying to hex, but the protection spell will not fail because I didn’t pull on the power of the moon.

****Yes, I listen to music while I work. On the night of the full moon, I was listening to Freedom by Beyoncé ft. Kendrick Lamar on repeat during the whole shebang. When I work, I am incredibly focused, so much that even the slightest disturbance to my balance will send the whole spell crashing down at my feet. If I were to work in silence, a single pin drop could cause me to lose focus and the spell could go awry. So, usually I will put on a single song that reflects the work that I am doing. Either that or I go to ambient-mixer.com and find some background sounds that I can customize and put on for myself. I chose the particular song that I did because both artists are POC angd it sends a message that aligns with the intent of both of these spells.

Sigil of Protection

This one I created myself.

Hexing Sigil

This one I did not create myself. The wonderful ceramyn here on tumblr created it, so this is me crediting her work.

[scattered--pages]

For the Lukanette lyrical prompt: "And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't/So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road/And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope/It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat", cause Florence is love

Notes: Ummm, so, I love you?! Because Florence really is love and omg this song ♡ Thank you heaps for this prompt, dear!!

Send me lyrics as a prompt for a Lukanette ficlet or a drabble? ♡

 ________________________________________________________

Shake It Out

Rating: Teen+

Word count: 2759 (okay, whoops, this ended up being longer than I planned  ♡)

_________________________________________________________

About a year and a half has passed since Marinette has received the humbling, but painfully difficult task of being the Guardian of all the Miraculous. It was a role that was exhilarating, beyond exciting, a chance to grow like none other before and it ended up brining far more positive things along than she thought it ever would. However – after a very good start and after almost a year of handling everything somewhat well, Marinette got tired. Stressed. And afraid. And so, this also brought far more negative effects in ways she didn’t really even imagine initially.

Of course, the ever-rising thought of her making a wrong mistake, a bad choice, a slip-up with consequences far too grave and any or all of these resulting in the doom of entire Paris or the fate of the Miraculous, but the consequences she failed to predict were the ones affecting her personal life. Marinette’s life, not that of Ladybug.

 And there were truly moments where the line between the two faded. Where she was suddenly skipping school or being late so much and so often that it reached the level where the principle had to alert her parents and she almost got expelled, all the while being horrified and desperate in finding ways to justify her actions because, of course, she couldn’t say the truth. She could never say the truth about this. Or the time when each new threat arising in the city due to the re-empowered Hawkmoth/Mayura team started suddenly bubbling up so much internal pressure for her that she was forced to find a way to first deal with her own genuine, painful and terrifying panic attacks before she could transform and deal with the actual attack taking place outside.

Or when the more outspoken and brave Ladybug overtook the typical ‘Marinette’ in certain situations of extreme emotional hurt or vulnerability, causing her to distance herself from a few friends of hers due to her growing either too withdrawn from them or, on the other side of this spectrum, to lash out suddenly in select moments of jealousy or even slight anger. Being a Miraculous Guardian at the tender age of now 16 was insanely challenging to say the least and even though this fact only started to truly catch up with her recently, it affected both her and those around her enough to cause an overwhelming amount of worry, anger and frustration from all sides. Except from one person.

And as she paced along the Seine nervously, back and fort, during what was supposed to be a calming walk for her, in her civilian form, this particular calming voice was what snapped her back from her over-thinking mind back to reality.

“Marinette?”

She jumped a bit, even though the voice didn’t really startle or scare her, as much as it simply surprised her.

“Luka? Wh-What are you doing here?”, she wrapped her arms around her, suddenly aware of the slight chill outside, her cardigan far too thin for an early spring evening by the river such as this one.

He smiled a sad, worried smile at this and proceeded to take his jacket off. “My home is right there, remember?”, he teased gently, nodding towards a boat a bit more downstream along the river’s flow as he pulled his jacket around her.

“Oh…!”, Marinette followed the direction with her gaze and her jaw dropped slightly. She didn’t realize she managed to pace back and forth and here and there for so long and so out of focus of reality that she managed to reach all the way to here without even realizing it. “But, n-no, no!”, she attempted to slowly shrug the jacket off, “You’re going to freeze!”, her hands reached to get it off and hand it back to Luka but by placing both of his won hands against her shoulders carefully but firmly with a teasing smile, he made any attempts of detaching said jacket from her body near impossible, to which she even frowned slightly, causing him to instantly chuckle and shake his head.

“I’ll be fine, even without the jacket, I’m wearing a sweater that’s even slightly too warm for my taste, and I’ll honestly feel worse if you freeze when I can do something to help that.”

She exhaled, her expression suddenly that of sorrowful, almost guilty confusion.

“Why are you still putting up with me?”

He simply shrugged, the playful hold on her shoulders easing as he stroke them with his thumbs gently. “Because I care. Because a lot of people care about you and it breaks my heart that you seem to not believe that.”

Her expression now remained the same, as well as the emotions it carried, save for the sad smile that she added to it slowly, her head tilting to the side a bit.

“Except, a) I’ve been horrible to everyone and about pretty much everything lately and b)…”, her gaze flickered to the side a few times, cheekbones reddening in a way that made her grateful for the fact that the streetlight reflecting from the water’s clear surface wasn’t that strong of a light source at all, “… you care about me… differently…”

“You know…”, Luka now returned her sad smile, only it carried a different background entirely, his eyes drifting to the floor while he started to slowly let go of her, “I’m an idiot because I… don’t think I even really asked you if you minded that…” He prepared to step back but, within a second, Marinette’s hands were on his, keeping them in place.

“No, no!”, she was surprised by how quickly and confidently she said that, but a much as it made her face feel like it was completely burning now, she didn’t take it back. “Luka, you… Know I dont.”

And true, he had a reason to believe so. They weren’t in a relationship or anything like that yet, like Kagami and Adrien or Nino and Alya were, not officially, but they were spending majority of their time together, in their civilian forms and, of course, unbeknownst to them, in their Miraculous forms as well. More than that, they grew incredibly close quite fast. To the point that now, almost a year since Marinette made a point to get over Adrien, Adrien was just a friend and an occasional fleeting painful sting at her heart, but the majority of her affection and her emotions were now finally allowed to belong to Luka. To the point that they have already had a couple of brief moments of weakness resulting in a kiss, but nothing more was said or done. And because of the latter fact, because it was nothing more, Luka didn’t dare to be convinced that this was a confirmation of anything or to push or prod, but this time, he felt he needed to push slightly in the opposite direction in order to prevent himself from pushing on in this one.

Still, even after her hands gripped his and she, very determinately, kept him close to her, he didn’t know how to react, instead only staying still for a second, followed up by a barely noticeable quiver of his lower lip as he opened his mouth to speak but found himself unable to. She noticed though.

Her broken smile widened slightly. “I’m… being selfish, actually. There’s this… someone, erm…”, she shook her head, trying desperately to remain as vague as possible, “ …something, taking over my life and my composure a lot for awhile now, very incresingly so, and vou’re the only thing keeping me grounded and sane lately and… always have been one of the few people making me feel safe and sure of myself and, at least due to this, I really don’t want to let you go…”

What she said was a partial lie, but for once, he didn’t catch it.

“So it’s…”, he took a breath and nodded firmly, more as a way to keep himself strong than anything else, “… just because of that…” Suddenly he made sure to quickly continue, “And I want you to know it’s perfectly fine if it is, I’ll still be your fr-”

“No…” It escaped Marinette’s lips without her control. But once again, she didn’t regret it or take it back. This newly found courage paired with an impaired capability of hiding her feelings at least had some good uses, it seemed. “No, it’s not just that.”

Stunned yet again, Luka stayed silent, looking back into her eyes, running her words in his head over and over again to make sure he understood them right this time until a melody reached them, played from a near-by cafe, catching his attention.

And when he looked back at her, he smiled again.

“That… something, that’s keeping you down… You never told me everything, so I’m sorry if I don’t always manage to make you feel better as best as I could…”, she was already prepared to counter him on this immediately, but he simply placed a finger against her lips, “… but there’s something I haven’t tried yet.”

Against his touch, her lips formed a small puzzled frown, which was a vision so beautiful and adorable to him that he could have kissed her right then and there and never let her go.

“You know, one of the best ways to get rid of a lot of negative emotions, expectations or fears…”, letting go of her, he moved away slightly and outstretched one of his hands, “…is dancing.” He cocked his head to the side, asking a question without words.

“Oh, nooo, n-no, no, no… I don’t dance, or to be more precise, I’m quite sure I can’t dance!”

“Everyone can dance”, he shrugged with a soft smile, “I’m not asking you to waltz with me or do the tango”, he grinned and she chuckled, “I’m just asking you to dance.”

She bit her lips, feeling a very slight hesitation… but took his hand, nonetheless.

“Okay…”, she smirked, “Teach me.”

Reciprocating her smirk, he took her hand and slowly pulled her closer until they started moving into almost a slow-dancing kind of way. He spun her around and then back into his arms and there was something about how easily and naturally he did that, something about that gorgeous crooked smile he was giving her, just inches from her face, that made Marinette feel incredibly warm and exhilarated in the way, she came to find, only he could make her feel. But they weren’t at the cool, calming ice rink now. And the breezy spring evening was suddenly not cold enough to keep her as in check as she wanted to keep herself whenever he did something that caused this beautiful, dizzy feeling to arise inside her that quickened her heart and breath.

But, for once, perhaps because she so desperately needed something like this, she didn’t want to fight getting lost in a moment like this one. She craved and needed the way he made her feel, safe and wild at the same time, feeling just secure enough to almost be able to let go completely. Marinette never felt like that. Marinette never acted like that. Not even as Ladybug, not even at the peaks of her confidence. But with him, it just happened. And normally, she would wonder over and over again in her head if he could somehow sense this, how he’s literally driving her crazy in a way, if he thought her to be a foolish, silly girl for letting him affect her this much, especially since she practically rejected him at first and since, ironically, she felt that all of these feelings became immensely obvious and accentuated after she removed any barriers that she once upon a time used to carefully set in front of the emotions that were steadily growing for him because she wanted them kept down and silenced for Adrien. But not now. She moved with him and laughed with him and let him sway and spin her in his arms and she could swear she never felt more alive.

It was a couple’s dance of sorts, the one that they were sharing, but it wasn’t defined by any specific set of steps or movements, more like a combination, actually. And that was the beauty of it, it was just defined by – them. And as the music picked up its tempo and volume slightly and she found herself dipped down in a way that perhaps started teasingly and playfully, she could feel her heart wanting to burst in warm sparks in her chest sparkling and spreading through her torso in a way she didn’t expect so suddenly. It felt like sparks flowing down her body and as it instinctively caused her to bite on her lower lip, she could have sworn that she felt his breathing hitch for a moment. Because the way he leaned over her, pulled her waist against his, much closer and tighter than at the ice rink, as he started to pull her slowly back up, eyes staring into each other without blinking, bodies close to the point she could feel the tempo of his breathing through the movements of his chest against her… It flipped some sort of a switch inside her. Everything has been so wrong and so irredeemable and so wrong lately, the pressure constantly dropped onto her shoulders unbearable and so strong that she was fully convinced she truly couldn’t handle it at all. But now, here, with him, like always, all of her feelings just floated to the surface. Or perhaps rushed, ran and instantly flooded to the surface would be a better description of what she was feeling when he leaned his shoulder down against her, breathing heavily, as two teal eyes peered right inside of her and made her melt. And, for once, Marinette was completely and entirely sure that at least for now, she was enough. She was strong. She was alive. Her skin was burning and the air flowing heavily through her lungs at a tempo she wasn’t used to felt like breathing for the first time in months. There was no way on Earth she was letting this go. There was no way in hell she was suppressing anything tonight. As a rebellion against Hawkmoth wanting to see her destroyed, against people who knew her and were ready to judge or leave her when she was clearly going through something akin to a nightmare, against any residual feelings for Adrien and against this whole nightmare as a whole – Marinette was going to grip paradise tonight, she’s going to be young, and free and hungry and loved and to hell with anything else.

She was fire and she wasn’t blushing or pulling back this time or looking away and still, still Luka was careful and doubtful, his gaze searching hers hopeful but confused. And somehow this, the heart and patience and kindness of the boy in her arms tipped her over the brink and without being able to even control or plan it, her lips crashed against his… And they stayed like that for a second, two, before his lips caressed against her lower lip in a way that caused less than a moment to transpire before her teeth grazed his upper lip with her next kiss, then her tongue, and when his tongue just barely brushed up against hers, her mind seemed to have swerved like she was intoxicated, because the next thing she realized was that her hand was tangled in his hair and grasping at his back, pulling him somehow even closer, closer against her, before he lifted her up, swiftly and effortlessly onto a small half-wall behind them and, oh, it made her want to never let him go. She gripped at the firm shape of the small of his back and one of his palms cupped her face, stroking her lip as he kissed it hungrily, the other running against her outer thigh and something between them must have been electric because they both shivered at the same time and chuckled sweetly against each other’s lips.

There was no care or thought left in her mind other than him. Her head, her heart and her body screamed only Luka. Luka. And only Luka.

Her home.

Her acceptance.

Her freedom.

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 109 1Xs2) "Welcome To The Hotel Diablo"

@crystalbaby12 @5sosfam1dlover @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @rosefilledhearts-blog

Luna and Ashley may have a strangle on the #1 slot with Nightmare sitting tight for it's seventh week but Colson continues to control a vast majority of the Billboard Top 20 Pop Charts as Hotel Diablo debuts at #5. Not only with the two hits he has with Luna and Dom but also including a few of his own singles.

I Think I'm Okay has been holding strong at #2 for the last four weeks. Keeping the #1 position on the Alternative Charts for it's third also. Bad Things having it's own place at #3 on the Pop Charts for it's third week. Hollywood Whore is up three slots, grabbing the #5 spot this week while THAT Type replaces it at #8. El Diablo is sitting at #11 for it's own consecutive week while Bebe's climbing back up alongside THAT Type as Candy makes it's entrance at #19.

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Landing in Cleveland, everyone is pumped. Luna, Pete, Sam, Benny, Ashley and Dom excitedly passing Congratulations to The Boys over Hotel Diablo's immediate success. Everyone's coming in to town tonight. Meeting up for a full performance of the album at the Agora Ballroom for fans then another more intimate performance at Velvet Dog for the album's release party.

Dispersing from the hanger, Slim heads to his own Ohio home, Baze taking Sam along with him to his. Pete, Ashley, Rook, Dom and Benny dipping out to Colson's Cleveland House to meet up with Bullet while he immediately goes over to Emma's with Luna to see Casie.

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"Oooh, Sugar... I'm so fucking proud of yooou!! You have FIVE top 20 hits right now... We're gonna have to look some shit up, Buns, because I don't think anyone's ever done that before!" Luna gushes in the back of their Uber as she sprinkles his grinning face with kisses.

"No way. I'm not breaking any Beatles or Micheal Jackson records...." He pauses. "You really think it's possible?" Colson asks with hopeful look twinkling in his brilliant eyes.

"I do...." Luna reassures him as she pulls out her phone. "Here..." She says after a quick internet search. "You haven't broken anything yet... But you're close as fuck." She shows him her phone.

Only The Beatles out rank him with six Top 10 hits from February 29 to May 2, 1964. It's actually incredible and nothing he ever expected. For one of the first times Luna watches Colson go silent.

"I can't believe it fucking debuted at Five, Baby." He lowly admits with a slight hint of red to his sweet cheeks.

"Ohh, I can. You're whole soul is on that record." Luna replies with love.

"That's what I'm afraid of..." He says even lower.

"People always resonate with honesty, Bunny." She tells him, giving her opinion. "Why you think your fan base is so strong? Because you've always been honest." She pulls his cheek over to kiss it with her words.

"I love you." He turns to grin at her again while meeting her mouth.

Somehow, Luna always knows what to say to Colson. Whether he's at his most shittiest, pushing full confidence or the lowest of his lows, she never fails on telling him the truth in how she sees things. Colson doing the same for her. Neither being aware of deeply they truly take care of each other mentally.

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"PEANUT!!!" Colson shouts with a bellowing laugh as he scoops Casie up and spins her around.

Luna and Emma watch the two of them with their hearts oozing after they had greeted each other. Without thinking, Luna laces her hand inside Emma's and lays her head against her shoulder. Slightly catching her by surprise as she easily accepts Luna's affection.

"I love the way he loves her..." Luna sighs wistfully. "He's such a great dad."

"It's one of his best qualities." Emma agrees with a smile as she holds Luna's hand a little tighter. "Think you guys'll have kids?" She asks with a genuine interest.

"I... I don't know...." Luna trails off honestly as she lifts her head up, not bothering to mention Colson or Casie's wants from her.

"I think you'd make a great mother." Emma says, looking directly at Luna. "I see you with Case and how you make Colson a better man.... Not that that's any reason to have a baby... I'm just saying... Should it come, I think you'd be really good at it."

"Wow.... Thanks. That means a lot." Luna smiles thoughtfully.

Squeezing Emma's hand, she nestles back on top of her shoulder with Emma resting her head onto Luna's. Any jealousy or disparity from NY's lunch having already dropped away. Both thankful to have the other in Casie and Colson's life above all else.

Once Colson's finished with her, Casie greets an ecstatic Luna. The young woman dipping down to squeeze the little girl with love. Coaxing her inside with the promise of a new present to her parent's amusement.

"You didn't have to do that." Emma says after Luna gives Casie the new Nikon and tries to show her how to use it.

"Photography is my first love and she mentioned how she wants to learn, so how could I not?" Luna asks with a shrug and a bright smile. "Oh... And thanks for hooking me up with Bonnie. She's been beyond wonderful!" Going on to express her gratitude over Emma's connection and friend.

"Yeah, no problem. She had mentioned last week that you guys have been in contact. I'm glad to have helped... I can't wait to see how it turns out." Emma smiles warmly at Luna.

Colson's been watching all the important females in his life intently. Truly appreciating how easily Luna and Emma have gravitated towards each other while also attending to the youngest. It's easy to see the deep respect and enjoyment they hold for each other. Even in another life, they could easily be genuine friends also.

Grabbing Casie around the neck, he wrestles her around. Many shoutings of DAD escape as she tries to wiggle away to no avail.

"Wanna come to the show tonight?" He asks her as he slightly loosens his grip. "Don't play with me." He lightly shakes her when she hesitates with a sarcastic Uhhhhmmm.

"YEAH I wanna come!!" She grins up  at him. "Mom, can I?" She asks looking over.

"Yeah, Ma. Please." Colson pleads with her as he smirks.

"Ash gonna be there?" Emma asks to Colson's nod. "She'll bring her home after the show?"

"Lemme check." Colson reassures her as he let's go of Casie and digs into his pocket.

While Colson's on the phone, Luna chats with Emma about an array of things. Tonight's shows and the upcoming weddings along with Casie's findings and her adventures during the tour. Their conversation flowing easily while Luna continues helping the little girl figure out how to take pictures with her latest, prized possession. Her attentiveness not being lost upon the mother just like her dad.

"Ash said she can drop her off tonight before the album release party and then I'll just pick her up tomorrow before the Pop Up." Colson interupts them when heading back into the kitchen.

"And you'll keep her until when?" Emma asks.

Colson looks at Luna. "Uhhhh..." He hesitates.

"My girlfriend Deanna is flying in on Monday to try to finish up the wedding fittings... So Tuesday by the latest if that's okay?" She shrugs at Colson before looking at Emma.

With Casie's eyes pleading and her body hopping around her, it's hard for Emma to resist. Not that there's any reason to. Laughing, she says Yes to her daughter's excited hugs and kisses.

After Luna convinces Casie to leave her camera at home tonight, they hug and kiss Emma GoodBye. Arrival texts being promised as always before the trio wave GoodBye from inside the Uber.

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Back at The House, Colson's stoked to find Mod, Noah, Phem and Caroline. Along with a ton of packages and everyone else. Opening the boxes, he starts to shout for The Gang.

"Yo!! Pull up!!" He hollers. "I got one for you. And one for you. One for you and for you...." He says, handing the small boxes to Caroline, Phem, Mod and Noah before calling the others over that aren't within his long arm's reach.

A box goes to Slim, Pete, Baze, Casie, Rook, Dom, Benny, Bullet, Ashley and even Sam. He sets two boxes to the side for Ashleigh and Dub. Along with a handful of other's, amongst them are ones for Naomi, Trippie and Skies. Pulling Luna close, he hands her hers.

"Aight, bitches open 'EM!!" He shouts with a huge chuckle and grin.

Inside the box is a beautiful, thin, platinum and diamond encrusted Double X pendant on a slim rope chain.

"You're determined to have yourself all over me, hunh?" Luna asks with a snicker as she looks up at him.

"You fucking know it! Two rings, two tattoos, two necklaces. Two times, Kitten. Two times!" He grins wider at their inside joke while scooping her up to kiss her as Thank Yous explode all around them.

"GANG!! GANG!!" Slim shouts as he throws his arms up into an X.

Colson puts on Luna's necklace as Ashley helps Casie with hers. Everyone else assisting one another. Walking into the kitchen, Luna grabs a can of Sprite and an armful of beers. Passing them around, she opens Casie's soda before cracking her own beverage.

🎼Mothafuckas//KNOW//Who rides wit THIS Gang//By the way we be rockin'//Our Double X chains//They too soft//To know//HOW HARD UP WE CAME// Still swangen' around//Keepen' that//Bangen' A Rang thang//Got the baddest bitch//Locked wit tattoos and a rang//Checkin' into HOTEL DIABLO//You know shit's gon' be//FUCKIN' INSANE🎶

Colson shouts, bouncing around as they toast to Family and Hotel Diablo. His intimate circle hooting at his epic freestyle while Luna rolls her eyes and kisses his jawbone. In his soul he is still very much a Wild Boy.

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"Oh, Bunny..." Luna coos as her thighs tighten around Colson's waist.

They're upstairs in the shower getting ready for Colson's Big Night. He grips her ass as she clutches the back of his neck, thrusting him deeper inside of her. Both are panting in the steamy air as they suck on and fuck each other passionately. Pulling on the other's hair as their bodies throb and they pound themselves into one another.

"Fuck Kitten, you ready?" Colson gasps when he feels himself tingle from the upcoming explosion.

"Mmmhmmmm...." She moans as she bucks against him faster, giving them both permission to let go.

"Fuuuuuuuck....." They both sigh out in content as Colson continues to hold Luna and they rest their faces in each other's necks.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I have something for you..." Luna says while they're both still naked from their ShowerFuck, offering up her black portfolio case after finding it amongst their luggage.

"What's this?" He asks with intrigue, remembering the last gift the leather casing had held for him.

"Fuck.... I gotta get that framed." He suddenly thinks. "It'd be perfect in The Brownstone...." His mind drifts as he begins to muse to himself.

"Open it..." She encourages him with a gleaming smile. "I've been working on it for a minute..." She says as her lips drop into a tiny secret.

Unzipping the case, Colson is presented with another canvas. This time displaying an oversized painted replica of their punked out bunny. The background is a deepish purple with edgy whisps of creams and light colored violets flowing through out it. Making the hints of color in the white cartoon animal pop out of it's heavy black outline. The feeling easily representing Hotel Diablo's black and purple atheistic.

Arranged around their matching tattoo, with some items being embedded into the canvas, are physical pieces from The Tour. Their key card from The Watergate, the crumpled receipt from their coffee order in Detroit, a ticket stub from the planetarium in Texas. Amongst them is also the peeled off lable from their bottle of SpringBack 1919 they had shared in the San Francisco speakeasy and her BackStage pass from the Pittsburgh show. All secured and decorated with a slight black outline to showcase each of them.

A little larger than his huge thumb are eight small, intimate pictures of the two of them sprinkled throughout. Some are selfies but other's aren't. Luna breaking her own rule and using other's photography in her art. Angled in the the bottom right corner, in a black and light purple twist, lays a mutilated copy of Luna's lips spelling out Bad Things. Dotted in an iridescent paint to make it sparkle in dark wonderment. Fully tying the whole piece together.

Luna's art is truly like no other's. Combining multi-medias and dimensions with her muse's soul lingering inside of it. Colson's eyes are wide the way they were the night she gave him his first gift.

"Ready?" She asks, popping the switch sitting underneath as he stares silently holding her work.

Their bunny's eyes light up in a low, blue glow from the tiny bulbs buried deep inside the canvas. Colson's heart stops. Reminding him exactly of the night they met.

"Holy fuck, it's beautiful." His heart explodes once it begins to beat again. "How the FUCK does she do this shit...." He thinks in admiration as he continues to look it over.

"Wow." Is all he can say as he stares at his gift.

Luna watches as Colson takes his time absorbing the new piece. Her soul gleaming as he excitedly points out all their little memories. Once he's fully taken it in and sets it down, Colson pulls her in with one strong arm by her waist. Giving her a meaningful kiss.

"You like?" Luna asks with soft eyes and a loving smile.

"I fucking LOVE." He easily declares.

"Cool." Luna smirks, replying just the same as before as she kisses him back and wraps her arms around his waist.

"Thank you." He tells her as he runs his long fingers along her wet skull until his large hands cradle her head.

Colson kisses Luna with a passionate gratitude. Dipping their naked bodies onto the bed, he slowly and sweetly makes love to her. Taking his time as he softly kisses her while overfilling her body with himself. Running her hands lightly along his body, Luna enjoys their tenderness.

"Oh SHIIIIT..." Luna lowly moans as he kindly gives them both exactly what they want.

Sighing contently, wrapped in each other Luna and Colson let their kisses linger on each other's lips. Genuine and truthful I Love Yous being passed between them as they enjoy their quiet, intimate moment together.

Finally gathering themselves, they proceed to burn and chatter together as usual while they get dressed. Colson still railing his preference of Adderall while Luna pops her own three percs. She's trying hard but the gaping hole that ripped her shoulder muscles in two REALLY fucking HURTS.

Colson's dressed in all black while Luna pulls on loose, ripped jeans and a white crop top. A red and black flannel loosely tied around her waist as her hair flows wildly with a touch of natural curl.

"Make sure you wear your ring tonight." Colson tells her as he pecks the top of her head.

"Always do..." Luna gives him a weird look as she tosses up both hands, wiggling her fingers to display each of her beloved rings.

"Fucking better." He taunts her, slapping and jiggling her ass cheek to her pleased giggles as they walk out of the bedroom.

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The Agora Ballroom is sold out and jam packed. Colson is putting on a special concert to debut Hotel Diablo in full to ONLY his hometown.

Everyone is there. Colson, Ashleigh and The Boys. Luna, Casie, Pete Ashley, Dom, Sam and Benny. Mod's there, so is Caroline and Noah. Trippie Redd, Naomi Wild and Lil Skies all coming through along with Phem to perform their features. Backstage easily overflowing with artists and friends as Dub and Johnny come trickling in with a few other long time Cleveland friends. Sporadic industry pals making their way around also.

"What's happenin', My Dude?" Colson happily greets his friend with a dap and huge hug.

"Nutten' man... Worken' on the album, taken' care of Baby Girl. You know how it be.... What's poppin' wit 'chu?" Dub asks nodding in Luna's direction.

"You talk to Slim, hunh?" Colson shakes his head with a grin.

"More than your bitch ass." He replies with a joking tone.

Colson can see Luna but with the crowded room it's hard to get her attention. "Thanks Tommy." He thinks, smiling to himself, knowing exactly how to grab her.

"Hold up." He tells Dub before cupping his mouth with is hands and hollering "BROOOOKLYYN!!"

"This man..." Luna's mind laughs as she looks for Colson. Catching his eye quickly, she smiles brightly at him. "FUCK, I love his stupid ass." Her brain continues to tease her as she makes her way towards him.

"What's up, Ya Nut?" She chuckles once she reaches him, standing on her tippy toes to kiss his lowered cheek.

"Kitten, this is one of my bestfriends Dub. Dub-O... My Bitch, Luna fucking Smith." Colson beams with pride as he introduces the two.

"It's so nice to finally meet you! The way Colson talks about you, I feel like I already kinda know you." Luna says warmly as Dub loosely accepts her hug.

"That's funny because he ain't told me shit about you." He answers her with a snide look at Colson.

"Oh. No pleasantries? Straight to the Gate? Aight. What's good?" Luna's tone changes immediately as she pops her chin out with her last words.

Colson starts to laugh when Dub's top lip snarls at her fierce response. Cocky in his own right, Dub doesn't hesitate to hit back.

"You tell me, seems you always got my boy caught up in some shit." He cuts.

"Excuse me?" Luna draws back with her eyebrows furrowed.

"What the fuck you talkin' about Dub-O?" Colson jumps in with a slight attitude, just as confused as Luna.

"The streets speak, Kells." Dub says turning to Colson. "Word is Eminem's gunnen' for you even harder after whatever YOUR bitch pulled in Detroit." He continues as he shoots a glare at Luna.

"Motherfucker, you're out 'chour mind." Luna laughs at him. "And your streets don't know SHI..."

Colson cuts her off before she can finish, questioning his friend "What the FUCK you talken' about, Dawg? Luna held shit down as always and fuck that little bitch ass pussy. Let him come see me. I'll fuck his punk ass up again." Colson spits out.

"Bunny, don't." Luna says as she slips her hand into Colson's, both knowing she's trying to hit that natural anxiety reducer. "Look, I don't know what you heard and honestly, I don't care because it ain't right." She says directly to Dub before looking up at Colson then back at him. "But you better believe..." Luna continues looking straight into Dub's eyes as she points at him with her free finger. "Imma give you a legit reason not to like me if you fuck up his night... Because bestfriends don't do that shit." Luna states coldly before grabbing Colson's chin, planting a solid kiss on the side of his jaw and stalking away.

"WHAT THE FUCK DUB-O?" Colson balks angrily.

"I had to see if she could hang." Dub smirks at Colson bewildered confusion. "Slim said she rides hard for you, I had to see how hard." He laughs lightly with a shrug.

"You're a fucking DickHead." Colson snickers once he realizes what his friends play was. "Yo, you better get correct with her, she ain't nothin' to be fuckin' wit." Colson begins to laugh as he shakes his head.

"I see... Something tells me she can take a joke though." Dub laughs louder with amusement along with his old friend as he Buddy Slaps on the back.

"Actually, her fucked up ass probably would appreciate your stupidity." Colson continues laughing as the two of them turn towards the BackStage madness.

Luna's grooving. She'd love for all of Colson's friends to like her but unlike him, she doesn't give a flying fuck if they do. Honestly, she could give a flying fuck if anyone likes her. The less people that like her, means the less people that she has to unwillingly talk to.

Oddly enough, she's a hypocritical social butterfly. Floating around as she hangs out with their friends and kindly introduces herself to Naomi, Trippie and Lil Skies. Meaningfully gushing and talking to each of them regarding their personal contribution to Hotel Diablo. Going as far to tease Trippie about his Plan B, yeah. She loves the whole album, how could she not express her adoration and appreciation towards their work on it.

"Kitten..." Colson calls for her.

"You're on in 20." Ashleigh says, trying to redirect him.

"Hold on." He says putting up his index finger. "BROOKLYN!!" He says a little louder catching her attention.

"Hmmm?" Luna asks once she reaches him.

"I FUCKING love-LOOOOVE YOU!! He declares as he wraps a long arm around her waist and plunks a heart felt kiss onto her lips.

"Love you, Bunny." Luna giggles in sheer content as she pulls him in for a tight lip lock. "Fuckin' kill 'em." She grins as she squeezes his ass and sends him OnStage.

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The Band had been teasing his unknowing fans all throughout June with Sex Drive as they waited for his set to begin. Those who had experienced it, make the connection immediately and are going wild. As Cara's voice floats over top of them, welcoming them to The Hotel Diablo, the venue erupts into an excited explosion.

Colson is electric and in rare form tonight. The success of his album finally sinking in has him running, dancing and jumping like an overexcited puppy.

Luna's SideStage with Casie, Ashley, Pete, Ashleigh, Sam, Dom and a few others kicking out the lyrics to El Diablo as they bounce to the contagious hit. Jumping and pumping their fists as they pass bottles of Jamison and rattle along with Colson.

🎶I KNOW//PEOPLE HATE ME//JUST BY MY APPEARANCE//YOU MOTHERFUCKERS//CAN'T BE SERIOUS//EH🎶

Luna and Ashleigh shout as they bop together and thrust their fists into the air. Dropping their curled hands as they continue spouting about throwing dice and keeping their circle tight. Spinning their fingers in the air as they groove and grin at each other laughing. Pete headlocks Luna making Ashley shove him as AJ opens up with Hollywood Whore. Stopping them all in their tracks as the sweet reminder of Chester radiates through their souls.

Riding the riff side by side, they recite the lyrics alongside Colson. Happily joining them is Mod, Noah, Caroline, Phem, Johnny and Dub. Whose intently watching Luna. There was only a half truth to his rudeness towards her. He don't trust THAT Bitch at all. He also hasn't spoken to Slim in a week either.

As the bass kicks in the group of them slam into each other. Luna holding Casie's hand and protecting her with her body as they continue to sing along and bash into one another. The crowd is insane. Shouting the chorus along with Colson as he raps about two faces trying to fit in to his world when there's no new space while wanting to get him to commit third degree murder. Undercover exposing those who tried to play him like a Hollywood Whore in the City of Danger. Watching Colson rip into his guitar makes Luna's nipples hard as her pussy begins to salivate for him. He's fucking hot. On and off stage.

Colson talks to his family about the relevance of the song as the main chords to Glass House lowly play behind him. He mentions how he misses too many of his friends. Chester, Nipsey, Mac... Too many to list. Luna can hear his voice break slightly as he asks the crowd to sing along with him and Naomi.

Luna doesn't sing. She can't. It's one of the many songs on this album that breaks her heart too much. Holding Casie against her, she wraps her arms around the little girl's shoulders as she tries to hold back her tears. The ballroom is shouting along with Naomi as she begs to be thrown into damn flames and to be buried with gold chains. Luna braces herself and Casie for the most gut wrenching part of the entire album.

🎶Lately//I've been sick of livin'//And nobody knows//How I'm really feelin'//I always hated to smile//But I keep//What is killing me//Hidden inside//I didn't sign up//To be the hero//But I don't want//To wind up a villain//I put my daughter to bed//Then attempted//To kill myself//In the kitchen//Yeah//I should've screamed//But//Nobody listenedSo I passed out//With the blood drippin'//In this glass house//Feelin' like a prison//Me and death//Keep tongue-kissin'//I just fell out//With my lil' bro//The life gettin' to us//The drink gettin' to us//The drugs gettin' to us//It's highway to hell//And everybody knew//What the fuck//Were we doin'?🎶

Colson runs the bars flawlessly. Luna can't help the tears that drop from her eyes as her breath shudders. The truth of his lyrics are too painfully as she holds Casie a little bit tighter. With her mind flashing back to Justin's blank eyes she can't help the range of emotions she feels while thinking of Casie dealing with Colson in the same situation. Luna closes her eyes as she holds the little girl close and wishes for the song to end.

It does. The context of the next song isn't any easier though as Burning Memories kicks in. Colson's words shattering Luna's heart into a million pieces. The recording is nothing compared to his live voice finally asking his mother how she could leave him for another. Luna can only slightly vibe with everyone else as they sing about him dying before he wakes. Lil Skies comes out to the crowd's cheers to ask for Love and Truth before Luna's soul flips with the liquor in her stomach as Colson sings along with his fans about their dark days coming in the summer. Feeling the rumble of their voices, Luna finds it both amazing and soul wrenching that the album only dropped this morning, yet almost the whole venue knows all of it's intimate words.

Ashleigh grabs Luna's loose hand as she watches the blood drain from her face and tears drop from her unknowing eyes. Her touch and Pete's voice asking about More Dracula as him and Colson laugh and recreate the skit OnStage pulls Luna back to her senses.

"You okay?" Ashleigh asks her friend with concern.

"Yeah... It's just harder to hear it live." Luna sighs.

"I know..." Ashleigh squeezes her hand.

The lead up beat to Floor 13 starts flowing through their blood and Luna is quickly out of her wicked head. Smiling at Ashley, they rapid fire the lyrics at each other along with Colson. Luna laughs when he mentions what will happen upon a physical run in and Casie's hands. Rocking her good shoulder into the tiny Baker, Luna grins at her. Shooting finger guns at each other as they let off with her daddy.

🎶I heard that//They call me//Yeeeah//Let 'em in//I got somethin'//For 'em//Yeeeeah//Please forgive my sins//Blood on my//Ralph Laureeen//I can't wash this shit//Wake up//Say//Good morninnnn//Like I forgot🎶

Laughing, Luna swings Casie around from behind after singing the chorus together. Whispering Hotel Diablo along with her ASMR into her ear with a giggle. Casie cheeses while squealing and squirming out of Luna's grasp. Grabbing Pete and Ashleigh's hands as her dad kicks into Roulette.

This is Luna's favorite song on the album. She happily dances, sings and raps along with Noah, Mod, Ashley and everyone else about that Mothafucken' Rida Music. Sliding her thumb along her latest gift, Luna keeps her body rolling as she drags the double X along it's shiny string. Her and Noah grinning at one another as they share another bottle of Jamison and ask the other how many times they're gonna play with death before their 30yrs old. Cause they're chosen.

Things lighten up as The Boys joke around about Baze being Truck Norris. They were so fucked up the night Slim drunkenly tried to compare him to Family Guy skit with Chuck Norris's beard that none of them would have even remembered if it wasn't recorded. It's Benny's laugh that highlights the inside joke placed track, bringing a much needed lightness to the heavy album.

Naomi comes back in as her voice haunts the crowd. Taunting them as she sings about death in her pocket and how she feels so alive. Luna and Casie are holding hands again as they recite the lyrics along with Colson as he reminisces about him and Slim trappen'. Before he can mention his worry about passing down his addictive genes Sam scoops Casie up from behind. With so many people SideStage, this is the first time Sam has been able to make her way over to her smaller friend.

"What up, Homie!!" Sam laughs as she kisses Casie on the side of the cheek.

"SAMMY!!" Casie shouts excitedly as she turns to hug the dark haired drummer.

"I missed YOU!" Sam exclaims as she sprinkles kisses all over Casie's face. "I got you something..." She says as she digs in her pocket.

Candy is floating through the back Luna's mind as she watches Sam present Casie with three small band pins. "Who is this person?" She laughs to herself. "I wonder if this is how it felt with me..." She thinks of how six months ago she wouldn't have touched a child with a 10ft pole but now couldn't imagine not loving Casie. "Life is so fucking weird..."

"Shit Loons, I'm so sorry!" Ashleigh interupts her thoughts. "You're on in like 10 and I know you're not dressed."

"5:3666 is up after this, then me?" Linda asks as she hears Colson's opening chords to I Think I'm Okay.

"Yeeeeah..." Ashleigh answers sheepishly.

"Fuck it, how do I look because I'm not missing this song." Luna grins as she displays herself to Colson's manager.

"Great as always." She sighs out a laugh of honest relief.

"Then let's FUCKING GOOO!!" Luna shouts, grabbing her hand.

Pulling Ashleigh along, she rallies Casie, Sam and Ashley. Easily pushing their way to front right stage. Holding hands, jumping and screaming along with Colson, Dom and their fans, the group of girls rage.

🎶Watch me//Take a good thing//And fuck it all up//In one night//Catch me//I'm the one on the run//Away from the headlights//No sleep//Up all week//Wasting time//With people I don't like//I think//That something's//FUCKING wrong with me🎶

Everyone goes ballistic as Dom sings his solo. The venue is throbbing as they continue to rip through the pop punk song. Dropping their guitars, both boys jump into the ocean of waiting hands as they continue to sing together.

Climbing back OnStage, they grab their guitars again. Finishing out the song with multiple layered, intense GoodNights. The voices singing along with them so powerful, Luna swears she can feel the stage shake.

"Give it up for my brother, YungBlud!!" Colson shouts to the crowd's roars.

Phem joins The Band OnStage. Her moody voice wrapping around Colson's equally dark lyrics perfectly. His EST Fam chanting word for word with him. There is not one person in that building who isn't a Machine Gun Kelly fan. As the song comes to an end the ASMR of Luna and Colson in the studio plays over the speakers, making the walls shake in anticipation.

Dub continues to watch Luna as she swigs the bottle once more before disappearing. Like most people, he's not quite sure what he thinks of her.

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

"Meh... Ash and Case seem to like her and she definitely ain't a member of The Slut Squad...." Dub thinks to himself while observing Luna. "Maybe she ain't as bad as Slim made her out to be.... She definitely got an attitude." He chuckles to himself. "Kells needs that though. Fuck... I don't know... who am I to judge.... Especially if Case and Ash bang wit her... Guess we just gonna have to see..." Dub decides as he watches Luna head OnStage.

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

They start off as they have the many times before. Luna opening up delicately at the piano before Colson leads her out and The Boys kick in heavy behind them. Slaying his guitar, he raps about giving one another life while suffocating in the other's kiss. Bouncing around the stage, buzzing and teasing one another while promising each other how they'll want them forever and take them where ever.

🎶I'm just a LunaTic//With her Gunn//When we're together//Bad Things happen//The way you touch me//Is better than ecstasy//When we're not together//I still feel you//Coursing through me🎶

Luna and Colson hit the second chorus again together as Rook slams into his kit and Colson continues to shred his guitar. He tosses it SideStage as he joins her for last few verses. Pulling her in close as their bodies rock together and rush for the other. Grabbing her hand The Band drops away as they harmonize the last lyrics together.

🎶I'm all in//There is no maybe🎶

As they finish, Colson twirls her out. Letting go of her hand, Luna stops. Drops her head back with her arms at different angles and pops one knee. The response to their performance is volcanic. The crowd erupting for an ENCORE as the lights begin to go down.

Colson can't hear them, just his one thought. "I am going to FUCK the shit outta her..." His mouth salivating as he scoops her up to invade her willing mouth.

"You're so fucking hot." He pants as he continues to kiss her. "I wanna run an encore for El Diablo. What do you think? We'll get everybody OnStage?"

"Fuck YEAH!" Luna agrees kissing him back. "You tell The Boys, I'll grab everyone else." She grins.

"I fucking LOVE YOU." Colson tells her with a light laugh as he kisses her once more before they seperate for their missions.

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

Word Limit 1 of 2

To be continued....

[mrsrhys23]

I want to play a game...

Chapter one: I will survive

Word count: 3,533

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH , drowning, profanities and mention of blood.

A/N 1: I completely forgot I was writing this until the Sneak peak was reblogged a couple weeks ago.

A/N 2: I don’t own these characters/ the saw universe. Sorry ‘read more’ isn’t working.

Summary: They have to get through a series of agonising traps to earn their survival, but who will live and who will die? 

Permatag: @desireepow-1986 @cordoniaqueensworld

Series tags: @cordonianroyalty @texaskitten30 @imthequeenofcordonia (Just let me know if you’d like to be tagged/ removed).

The floor was cold and coarse, being one of the first things Riley noticed as she started to regain consciousness. She could hear screaming, a woman by the sounds of it and voices, who they belonged to not being clear at that moment in time. She opened her eyes; the room was dark with only some light peeking in through a tiny window, Her vision was still slightly disfigured, as she sat herself up, a massive headache hitting her.

“W-where? Where are we?” Riley muttered, as her vision turned back clear and she could see her friends, who all looked as equally distressed as she probably did. She pushed herself up to her feet, a wave of dizziness hitting her making her rely on the wall to keep herself from falling. Everything felt fuzzy, she couldn’t remember how she ended up there, how any of them did.

Madeline sat in the corner of the cold damp room with her knees to her chest, crying by the sounds of it and being thankfully quiet.

Olivia was busy pounding on the window but getting nowhere, the glass staying intact, the noise making Riley cringe from just how much worse it made her headache.

Drake was busy trying to calm down his girlfriend, Emily, who was hyperventilating. Maxwell paced, Hana stood crying and wringing her hands together.

“Guys?” Riley asked, but none of them seemed to hear her. “Guys?!” That caught all their attention and each of them turned to her. “Where are we?”

“How are we supposed to know?” Olivia snapped.

“We don’t know,” Drake said, “We all just woke up here and none of us can remember how we got here.”

“W-where’s Liam?”

“He’s not here,” Maxwell chimed in.

Suddenly all the lights came on, making all of them squint from the sudden brightness. Riley noticed a tape recorder hung from a piece of string and nail on the far wall when her eyes had adjusted. She staggered over to it, took it down and peeled off the note that said, ‘play me.’ She turned back to look at the group, her finger hovering over the button. Riley swallowed hard and pressed it.

All they heard immediately was static and then that voice, the voice they would never forget. “Greetings and welcome! I want to play a game…”

“What the hell?” Drake muttered.

“You’re probably all wondering why you’re here,” the deep, male voice Riley concluded, continued. All of them felt a wave of fear rush over each of them. They all exchanged a look of sheer panic. Yes, they'd taken down Anton Servus but...this felt different, more dangerous, evil even. “All of you have never worked for anything in your lives, it’s all been handed to you on a silver platter. Some of you have used others to climb further up the social ladder. Trampled over others to feel better about yourselves.”

“Maxwell, if this is you-” Drake started.

Maxwell turned to Drake, glaring up at him. “How the fuck would this be me?!” He snapped, losing his temper, which was something he very rarely did.

“You do have a weird sense of humour, Maxwell,” Drake snarled.

“Will you both just be quiet!” Olivia screamed, silencing both men as a result.

“People have died because of the actions you so called humanitarians have taken-”

“Who? What are you talking about?” Riley cut off, but her questions went unheard.

“…You all have your separate reasons as to why you're here and all know them. I wonder how long it will take for you all to confess to the crimes you’ve committed,” the man continued.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Madeline screamed, standing from the floor, mascara pouring down her cheeks. Olivia sent her a look that was enough to tell the Countess to shut her mouth before Olivia shut it for her.

“You all may have noticed the four tubes hanging from the ceiling.” Upon that revelation, the group looked up to see them dangling from the equally rough looking ceiling above them. It was then a drop of water fell and dripped onto Hana’s face. Hana looked around the room, the sense of panic growing as she caught sight of several vents on each corner of the room. Soon everyone else caught sight of them too.

“Now, this room is soon going to be filled with water. As you’ve all hopefully figured out by now there are only four tubes and there are seven of you. It’s said that healthy individuals, much like yourselves, can hold their breath for two minutes. We'll be putting that to the test though. After two minutes are up water will spill from one of the tubes, cutting off another air supply, and so forth. You’ll be in here for ten minutes, by then some of you will most likely have drowned and all air supplies will have been severed. The rules are simple: the only thing you need is the will to survive.” With that the tape grew to an end. Riley let out a scream of frustration and launched the thing at the wall, breaking it into pieces upon impact.

Surely this was all a sick joke, right?

Some panic seemed to drain from their bodies when nothing immediately started to happen. They all just stood passing each other cautious glances.

“Maybe this is all just a joke. A prank,” Emily suggested. Getting a death glare from Olivia, who seemed to be giving them to everyone by this point.

“M-maybe Em is right,” Maxwell chimed in rather hesitantly. He couldn't deny that sense of dread he was feeling right in the pit of his stomach that really made him reconsider his words. “Right?”

Maxwell was prompted to look down when something cold began to pool at his feet. He looked down, seeing the ice cold water pouring from the vents. Everyone’s eyes grew wide.

“Fuck!” Drake bellowed, pulling off his jacket.

“Now is not the time to take your clothes off, Walker!” Olivia reprimanded. The water was now just below knee height. It was filling up quickly and that was making them all rightfully start to panic.

“Try and block the vents,” Drake said, running over to the one nearest to him, trying to stuff his jacket inside which temporarily cut off the water supply.

“It’s working,” Maxwell said, shocked.

“Well it’s not going to stop it for long if you lot don't block the others,” Drake yelled, trying to keep his hold against the vent with the strong water pressure pushing against him. It was like he was playing a game of tug or war but he wasn’t so sure he was going to win.

The rest of the group all removed their jackets, thankful it was winter so all of them actually were wearing one, then followed Drake’s instruction, pressing the ball uped clothing against the vents. The water stopped, sitting just under their shoulders as they stayed knelt down. They all breathed a sigh of relief, that was until the pressure seemed to grow all the stronger and wrenched their hands off their targets and the water seeped in once again.

“Shit,” Riley mumbled, trying to push against it again but failing miserably, even Drake could not push against it and he was probably the strongest in the room.

They all got to their feet. Madeleine started to shiver with the cold water seeping through her clothes.

Emily had started to hyperventilate again, which in a room with a limited oxygen supply was not helping.

“Will you stop that?” Olivia growled at her, which caused the girl to cower away from the Duchess and her breathing to grow more shallow and laboured.

“I-I can’t breathe-” Emily stuttered out between gasps. Her hand landed on her chest, grabbing at her shirt.

“Em, now is not the time,” Drake warned. He would normally be sympathetic, try and help her but they were all a bit pressed for time. He rested a hand on her shoulder trying to provide her with at least some comfort.

Olivia headed over to the door. No handle. No lock. She wasn't sure it was a door to begin with but that looked like the only way out. She banged and clawed at the metal plank standing between her and freedom. After growing too frustrated she booted the thing, she was sure she’d at least broken a toe but she was too angry, too scared, to notice. She placed the victimised foot down, the cool water at least doing something other than trying to drown her.

Madeline looked around the room, trying to see if there was another way out but of course there wasn't. They were completely trapped. Of course there was that small window but they had all kind of figured out it was most likely bulletproof- it wasn't going anywhere. They weren't getting out unless they completed the game.

Drake had stepped away from his girlfriend and left Hana to provide her with some comfort. He felt like a complete dickhead for doing that but...they were going to die if they didn't figure this out.

Riley and Maxwell had tried to block the vents off again but it wasn't going to work and soon abandoned the idea. It was futile

The water was resting by the girls shoulders now. They were all average height but how they longed to be a giraffe like the men in the room. They were soon going to need to use the tubes...but Riley was hesitant. Maybe whoever that guy was had lied, maybe there was no air waiting to be sucked into their lungs through those, piss like yellow, tubes and she wasn’t the only one thinking that.

Somehow Emily had started to calm down. How she’d managed that nobody could comprehend because they were nearly as panicky as she had been. Panicking wasn't going to help though, they all needed to stay level headed if they were all going to survive this.

“Would now be a good time to tell everyone that I'm scared of water?” Maxwell asked, as the water seemed to be pouring in faster now. Drake shot him a glare.

“I think we all will be after this!” Riley yelled, as she tried to keep her head above the water like everyone else was struggling to do.

Soon the water was about to reach the ceiling so they all took one big breath as the cool water engulfed them completely. They all exchanged a look , having a sort of conversation about who should take a breath first.

Drake, Olivia and Riley let the others go first. They were all good at holding their breath so it made sense.

They watched anxiously as the others grabbed the the tubes, locking it in between their teeth as they held it with one hand and closed their mouths around the end to create a seal. If this didn't work then water would flood straight into their lungs and that’d be it. Game over.

Maxwell went first breathing through it getting a mouth full of water then turned his head away emptying his mouth then got back to it again. Finally, all the water seemed to clear from the tube and air flowed into his lungs. He gave the others a thumbs up who all followed suit, finally getting the same relief that Maxwell had been granted.

Drake was busy timing how long they had left until water would gush in from one tube. One minute had already passed. Another sixty seconds and one of those tubes were going to be cut off.

He could feel the pressure in his head, he wanted to open his mouth, to just take a breath which was something that was taken for granted, it was like that saying ‘you only miss something when it's gone.’ No truer words had ever been spoken.

He signalled for everyone to let go of their tubes when it hit the two minute mark. They all waited for a few seconds until water gushed from the tube Madeline had been using.

Maxwell, Emily, Hana and Madeline moved away from the tubes so Olivia, Drake and Riley could get at them. They each took in a breath.

It was one of the best things they had ever felt.

Once again, Drake timed it. He grabbed Olivia’s arm when time was out and they all pulled away, water soon gushed from the tube Riley had been occupying. This was where it was going to get difficult.

Two tubes. Seven people.

It's a human instinct to do whatever you need to survive and none of them wanted to die and that’s what Olivia had clocked that guy was counting on.

Madeline, Olivia, Hana and Emily took one tube and the others took the other, taking turns to take a breath. Drake’s eyes stayed fixed onto his watch, counting down. He knew that it was all going to get worse when that tube was cut off.

Once again he signalled time was up and everyone let go, watching as water flowed in. They all looked directly to the one tube that was left standing.

Madeline was the first to try and get to it. Unlucky for the countess Emily reached it first, taking in a deep breath. She was yanked away from it when Madeline pulled at her hair and then took hold of it herself. Frankly, no one was surprised that Maddy was the first to try something.

Emily turned around and grabbed Madeline's hair yanking her away. While they were occupied, Hana snuck in getting a hold of it and taking a long awaited breath. Drake got in between Emily and Madeline as they pounced at each other again. Fighting wasn't going to fix this. He held his hand out, it hovering over both of the women's chests to keep them away from one another.

What they were doing was completely human, stupid, but human nonetheless. They were panicking, they were staring death right in the face and they were trying to cheat it, find a way out and that was incredibly normal but they were all friends...well mostly, excluding the demon of course.

Maxwell wanted...no needed to breathe. He felt the pressure in his head making him so desperately want to open his mouth and take a breath.

Hana was looking around, seeing that all of the others were occupied with Emily and Olivia but what she didn't see was Maxwell flying towards her until it was too late. He slammed into her, sending her knocking into the wall and away from the tube. Maxwell latched his mouth over the end of the tube taking in a long awaited breath, as Hana recovered from the blow.

She touched her temple where it had slammed into the wall. She pulled her hand away, it covered in red as the blood dripping from the wound started to colour the water around her.

By this time Drake had noticed what had occurred after the women had started to calm down. He looked down to his watch seeing time was so nearly up he pushed Max out of the way as once again water flooded in through the final tube.

They all looked at each other, if that guy was telling the truth they just had two minutes left. Two minutes left of their lungs screaming for air. Two minutes of being surrounded by ice cold water that frankly they all started to adjust to by now. But Only 120 seconds left of this torture and they’d be out. They all just needed to remain calm, which of course was easier said than done and they’d be fine.

They looked at each other, each thinking of something else other than where they were, what was staring them right in the face.

Panic rose as the light started to flicker and soon plunged them all into darkness. Of course, the lights would go out, it happened in every horror movie ever. It was designed to instil fear and that’s exactly what it was doing.

Riley could see specks spotting her vision, it wasn't completely dark, she could see the outlines of her friends from the light coming from the small window, the light looked artificial, it didn't look like it was sunlight. It could have been her imagination, the oxygen deprivation but she could swear she just saw somebody peeking in. She blinked and then they were gone if they were ever there to begin with and the light with it. It felt like her head was exploding but the instinct not to let any water in was so strong that she didn't open her mouth.

Fear was a good thing right now, yes, it could make them act irrationally, like it already had but fear meant they wanted to survive. They wanted to get out and that’s all they needed. The will to survive.

She was dreading getting out in a way because maybe not everyone had survived this. She had fear of drowning, ever since she fell off her surfboard when she was a kid and got dragged under. It was a fear of not being in control.

Riley closed her eyes, surely this was nearly over. Right?

Without warning the door opened, the water gushed out and took the group with them, making them slam into either each other or the wall. They all scurried away from one another getting on to their knees coughing and taking in long, strangled breaths between coughs.

Hana dabbed at the side of her head, the blood had completely stopped. She got onto her knee still coughing as the air that she was never going to take for granted again reached her lungs. Soon even got to their knees, some standing up as they looked to one another. They had done it. They had survived.

Hana suddenly let out a ear piercing scream. They all followed her gaze and saw Maxwell laying unmoving by the door to the room they had just been in. Half of his body still inside the room and half out of it.

“M-Max?” Riley asked, stepping towards him cautiously.

He didn't move, didn't respond. Drake knelt down beside him placing two fingers against his friend's neck. He felt nothing.

“Great the idiot is dead. We might just get out of here after all,” Madeline said. Riley turned to her, her eyes filling with tears as she glared at her.

“What did you just say?” She asked, stepping toward the Countess.

“I said-” Before she could continue Riley lunged at her, grabbing at her hair and making her head bash against the wall. Madeline yelled, clawing at Riley's wrist. Drake stood, grabbed Riley round the waist and yanked her away as she grabbed at his arms and tried to worm her way out of his grip.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Drake commanded. He let go of her when she stopped fighting against him.

Riley ran her hands down her tired face, wiping away the tears that had started to spill. She watched as Olivia stepped up to Madeline and soon her fist connected with her jaw. Maxwell and Liv weren't friends really but at least she had some fucking respect.

“Liv!” Drake scolded.

“She fucking deserved it, Walker!” Olivia yelled back as she started to pace as Madeline dabbed at her now bloody nose.

“W-what do we do now?” Emily asked, timidly.

“I think I’ve got an idea,” Hana said, nobody missed the way her voice cracked as she tried to keep her emotions in check. She nodded to a door on the other side of the room up a small metal staircase that had ‘this way’ written in red. It didn't look like blood, that was something at least.

“The psychopath signposted the place. Useful,” Olivia mumbled under her breath.

Drake turned around to see Riley now knelt down clutching onto Maxwell's body, her fingers running through his damp hair.

“Ri?” She didn't answer, “Brooks come on.”

“We can't leave him here,” She said, her voice quiet and defeated. She knew now wasn't the time to be difficult but…Maxwell is-was her one of her best friends, he was the entire reason that Riley is where she is now. She wanted to cry...but as heartless as it sounded Maxwell wasn’t the priority right now.

“We have too,” Olivia said calmly. “We- when we get out we’ll have someone come and get him but you need to come now.”

“What if it's just another trap?” Riley asked, voicing everyone else's concerns.

“It probably is,” Olivia said honestly, earning herself a glare from Drake. “What? We’re all thinking it. I really doubt being locked in a stupid room for ten minutes is the end of this, do you?”

“She’s got a point,” Emily voiced.

“We don't know this for sure. Let's not panic,” Hana recommended.

Riley took one last look at Maxwell, biting at her bottom lip to stop it quivering and stood, wiping at her eyes and turned to the rest of the group.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Damon Salvatore x Luke Parker (The Vampire Diaries)

Stretching, Damon blinks his eyes open against the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He pauses for a moment once he can see properly, taking in the briefly unfamiliar room. Then he spots the Whitmore hoodie flung over the back of a chair and he smiles to himself.

He glances at the empty space on his right. Assuming that classes have probably started already, he just settles back down, not having any reason to leave quite just yet. As he goes to close his eyes again, the door to the little dorm room swings open.

Damon's eyebrows shoot up as Luke walks in, barely noticing that he's awake. He's got an alert, almost panicked look all across his face. It's more the suit that's got Damon's attention.

"Okay," he says, and Luke's head snaps around to look at him. Damon sits up properly and waves a hand lazily at him. "I'll bite. Why?"

Luke's already turned to the mirror to finish buttoning up his shirt. "Why what? And--" he throws a confused glance at Damon's reflection, "--I thought you said you had to leave early today."

"Change of plans." Damon shrugs. "And why to the suit? You're a college student in Virginia majoring in English Lit and History, not some law student in Harvard."

"You know, I did consider law," Luke says. "But Liv said I wasn't allowed to abandon her and she refused even the idea of taking the LSAT's, so." He gives him a wry smile. "English Lit and History. A fair compromise."

Damon's not oblivious. Luke's told him this stuff before, they both know he has. And his voice is just evasive enough, his expression the perfect amount of please buy it and leave it alone.

He considers doing just that. It's not as if Luke has any obligation to tell him anything, and he really shouldn't care if he's keeping something to himself. But for some reason that he can't quite place, he does.

"Nope," he says after a beat. "Strike one. Two more tries."

Luke rolls his eyes and scoffs. Probably because he knows that Damon can't do anything if he just clams up and doesn't tell him. Compulsion doesn't work and Damon wouldn't even think about hurting him. He'd just be left to stew in not knowing.

But then Luke glances at him, their eyes catching. He sighs and drops his hands from his shirt. Finally, he turns to him.

"I... have to meet someone," he says, still vague, still evasive.

Damon's eyes track him around the room, narrowing. "What does that mean?" he asks, watching him pick up a tie from the chair.

Luke raises an eyebrow, cracking an elusively entertained grin at him. "It means I'm meeting someone? For breakfast?"

He pauses for the first time, actually slowing down rather than looking like he's roadrunner on fast forward.

"Hold on. Are you jealous?" he asks, his eyes wide with delight.

"Oh" --Damon's the one scoffing now-- "please. Like I have anything to be jealous of. You're not my boyfriend. You can go off and have secret breakfasts in a fancy suit with whichever stereotypical jocks you like. I could even set you up with two. You've met Matt and Tyler, right?"

That glint of delight only grows brighter, and Luke laughs in disbelief now.

"Oh my god." His tie is momentarily forgotten. "You are totally jealous. Wow. And I thought I was the one who couldn't keep things casual."

Damon rolls his eyes, his jaw tightening as he looks away from him for a moment. That knowing, prodding stare must have some compelling ability of its own because he finds it hard to lie while holding it.

It's irritating enough that Luke's right. A little pit of jealousy has opened up in his chest like it's a black hole trying to suck him in. But he doesn't do jealousy. It's an off-limits emotion and it is certainly not allowed in casual situations involving blond haired, blue eyed, Gemini witches who wanted to be a lawyer.

"But I really don't think you need to be jealous of me having breakfast with my father and sister."

Damon's eyes snap back to him sharply. "Your father? The one who tried to kill me?"

"Don't have another father, so, yeah, that'd be the one," Luke says dryly.

He moves back to the mirror to fix his tie, clearly getting nowhere trying to do it blindly.

"Why exactly is your dear old dad in town?" Damon asks. His eyes narrow again. "And why do you need to be so dressed up to have a very early breakfast with him and Liv?"

Luke visibly hesitates, eyes fixed on his own face reflected back at him. Damon watches his lips part, taking in a breath.

"Because it's our birthday," he says, almost sighing as he does, his shoulders deflating.

There's a twist in Damon's chest, stopping him dead. He stares at him, partly hoping he heard him wrong. That part fades quickly when he sees the dismayed, daunted look in Luke's eyes and knows he didn't.

"If today's your birthday, that would mean..." Damon doesn't need to finish. They both know what it means.

But Luke sighs properly and draws himself back up, replacing his dismay with firm determination. "It means Liv and I are twenty-two and officially of merging age."

Damon's eyebrows furrow. "So, what, you're going to dinner with your dad so you can give him exactly what he wants? To merge you?"

"No." Luke turns back to him and his eyes are blazing far more confidentally than Damon's seen in that crystal blue before. "We're going to convince him to let Jo and Kai merge instead."

It's a terrible plan, Damon decides right away. Many things could go wrong, and not many good outcomes spring to mind. Just the words Jo, Kai, and merge send a chill through him. As does the idea of Luke meeting with his dad now that he and Liv can merge.

"And your reason for thinking that you can talk Papa Parker into that is...?" Damon prompts sarcastically, but he's genuinely hoping Luke has some trick up his sleeve.

"Liv and I have to try," he says.

The hope deflates. So much for that.

Damon finally pushes the covers back from Luke's bed, swinging his legs over the side to stand up.

"Okay, not to sound like I'm doubting you or this idea," he says, and Luke's expression tells him he's not a great liar. "But what if he says no? And if he does miraculously say yes for some insane reason, have you thought of a way to stop Kai the murderous siphon witch who would absorb Jo in a heartbeat?"

"Jo can beat him," Luke insists with just as much confidence that it's starting to unnerve Damon. "She's stronger now."

A whole load of arguments for why this is not going to work jump straight into Damon's mind. As he opens his mouth to voice them, though, Luke takes a step forward and places his hands on both of his arms.

"It's gonne be fine," he says, so easily like he really believes that, even with the touch of anxiety in his voice. "But I really need to go before my dad shows up here looking for me."

Damon grimaces. "Can't imagine that scenario going well."

Luke laughs and shakes his head. "No, me neither. So, feel free to let yourself out whenever you wanna leave. Assuming I don't die during this breakfast, I might see you later."

Damon's still thinking of reasons why this isn't going to go well. But Luke's convinced, and this plan might not necessarily fail. Hopefully.

He sighs, his lips pressing together. His eyes dart down and Luke arches an eyebrow.

"You're not gonna convince anyone to do anything with your tie like that," he says.

Reaching down, he undoes the practically perfect knot and redoes it himself. Luke just smiles, his gaze strangely soft as it remains fixed on him the entire time.

"You gonna kiss me for good luck next?" Luke jokes.

Damon's mouth twitches. He finishes and pats Luke's chest, acting like he's going to step back. His fingers curl around the tie again, but he pulls this time and presses his lips to his.

Luke's still smiling as he returns the kiss, his amusement passing over to Damon. Then his hands are between them, on Damon's chest, and he pushes himself back.

"For luck," Damon says, winking, letting go of him completely. He shrugs. "And in case your crazy father decides to kill you. It would be cruel to not get one last kiss to remember you."

Luke scoffs, shaking his head at him, but his smile is still in place as he turns away from him and heads for the door.

Damon's positive he's going to have to think of something fast to deal with whatever the fallout of this is going to be but he has some hope that it'll work. If he ignores the clamping sense of dread that's weighing down on him for some reason. He's sure it's nothing. Nothing at all.

[sol1056]

You can't compare She-Ra with Voltron. Voltron always said they "weren't closed to things", always saying "maybe", they were mostly cishets and men. She-Ra is being clear about it, the EP and crew are LGBT+ and there's more women working on it, they have more awareness and sensitivity about stuff. You can already see She-Ra shows more divesity in general, body diversity and positivity, and I understand if you don't but I'm really looking forward to it.

No argument there: She-Ra’s team (as introduced) seems to be doing everything right. They’re not the problem. DreamWorks is. 

My question is whether DW’s going to lose its nerve and push the story in a different direction, water it down, or step it back. In the end, the creators are only here to create the story the execs think will produce the largest profit. That’s just how business works. If execs aren’t happy with the product, then the product gets changed. 

The showrunners can (and often do) say plenty of what they plan, per what they’ve been assured will be okay. To be blunt, those corporate promises are exactly as good as the paper they’re not written on. If DW gets cold feet — or believes it’s enough to promise, no need to deliver quite so enthusiastically — well, it’s DW that signs the paychecks, not the production staff. 

Take those qualms and double them, given She-Ra is not a brand-new work. This venture is definitely toy-driven, and it’s owned by the only US company that rivals Disney when it comes to corporate overlordship: Mattel. I mean, if you took the phrase ‘vehemently protective of any/all property to the point of repeatedly re-litigating parody and fair use clauses to drag independent artists into court’, the poster children would be Mattel (especially Barbie) and Disney (the dreaded Mouse). 

The bottom line is this: corporations exist to create profit for shareholders. Period. Mattel has entered this joint venture with DW, okay’d She-Ra as it currently stands, and profit is the only reason. Somewhere, Mattel has data or gut sense or a crystal ball that tells them an inclusive, diverse, LGBT+-friendly She-Ra will garner a bigger profit than whatever else they could be doing with the franchise. 

But if the first season drops and sales don’t match Mattel’s expectations—especially if linked to unhappy parents, disinterested kids, or controversy spurred by some narrow-minded protest group—do not think for a new york second that Mattel will hesitate to jerk the story in a completely different direction. If the staff are lucky, they might get two seasons. I doubt they’ll get a third, if they can’t generate profit substantial enough to be worth the expense. 

Knowing the staff are work-for-hire without much power, and knowing Mattel is one of the two worst for iron-fisted control over their brand, the question remains as to DW’s position. Would it be the backstop against Mattel backing down from staff promises? Or would DW think nothing of killing queer or disabled characters, or demoting and sidelining characters of color, if they (or Mattel) insist that’s more profitable? 

Does DreamWorks even have a position beyond the usual corporate ‘we do whatever gets profit for our shareholders’? Does it have a true commitment to diverse, inclusive stories, or is that just more marketing? Was the only reason JDS apologized because the fandom rose up in protest, or did DW actually disapprove of the story’s treatment of queer characters (and if so, why did it approve the scripts)? 

I totally get that people want to believe a creator’s promises about a story, especially when it sounds like the story will go that extra step (or five). But I’ve been working with and for major multi-national corporations for several decades now, and the ones who stand their ground are far and few between. I would love to tell you otherwise, but I’d be lying. Profit is all that matters. 

Go ahead and trust the promises from someone who, in the end, is only one more cog in the corporate wheel. I’m just not willing to extend that good faith a second time. Not so long as the corporate overlords remain silent as to whether anything matters to them above and beyond profit.

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Thirteen - Moving Forward

A/N: Happy Wednesday, everyone! Just doing a quick drop in this week; its been a busy week, and I ought to get to bed. I apologize for the extreme lateness; there have been some nasty issues with posting. The usual warnings apply. Enjoy!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Thirteen - Moving Forward

27 WHEELER STREET, EAST CITY

0912 HOURS, APRIL 17

It caused her a brief moment of panic, to ease her eyes open and find his half of the bed empty. Riza sat bolt upright, feeling her stomach clench with sudden worry — no, call it what it is: fear — for him, then relaxed again as she caught sight of his pajama pants folded on a chair to one side of the room.

Jumping at shadows again, she chided herself gently. You spent six months doing that with Pride; don't start again now.

Slipping from underneath the sheets, she noted the absence of Hayate as she padded near-silently out of the room and down the hall toward the apartment's kitchen. Morning sun slanted into the living room ahead, looking warm and welcoming; much nicer than the low lamplight had last night.

She paused where the hallway ended in the open space of the connected living room and kitchen, taking a moment to study the figure slouched in a chair at the table, legs crossed at the knee. One hand rested in his lap, the other lay stretched on the table, toying idly with the handle of his coffee cup. A smile at his casual air started to spread across her lips… and hesitated when she caught his expression.

Roy's eyebrows were drawn low and close, his dark eyes staring at the mug in front of him without really seeing it. His only sign of movement was the slow motion of his lower lip as he worried it reflectively with his teeth. This was a deep thought pose. A deep, serious thought pose.

She took a cautious step forward, into line with his peripheral vision. "Good morning."

"Hey." He didn't look up. "How did you sleep?"

"Once I got to sleep? Just fine." Stopping beside his chair, she slid one hand across his shoulders, picking up on the tension in the muscles. "What about you?"

At last, he tilted his head back, so that she could see the faint dark circles under his eyes. His smile was rueful. "Can't say I slept at all, actually." The hand resting on the table lifted the mug. "That's what this is for."

Guiltily, she lifted her hand from his shoulder, moving it to brush his bangs from his eyes. "I'm sorry. If it weren't for that incident last night…." Bending, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "If you want to try and get some sleep before going back to consulting on the case, then —"

"Ah… about that…." He turned his gaze back to the mug in his hand, but not before she saw the rueful smile tugging grimly at his lips. "There's… been a change of plans."

Her hand stopped in its slow raking through his hair, dark strands sticking up at odd angles through her fingers. Riza held perfectly still, taking time to study his turn of phrase from every angle possible. "…Did Hakuro find a way to remove us from the case?" she said at last, keeping her voice cool and controlled. "I don't think he was convinced we should be working it in the first place."

"He wasn't, but it wasn't him that pulled the plug," Roy murmured. "Before you got up, we had a phone call…."

CENTRAL MILITARY HEADQUARTERS

0817 HOURS, APRIL 17

Dawn had brought rain and fog to the city, covering the damaged garrison in both. Grumman had been amused to find a few stray tendrils of mist in the hallway — seeping in through gaps in the outside walls — on his way to the Presidential office, but his good humour hadn't lasted long. A message left on his desk had informed him of another attack by the serial killer in East City the morning before, as did the new copy of the Central Times.

Settling into his desk chair, he spread the newspaper in front of him and took a deep breath. Time to see what fear-mongering they're pushing today, he thought darkly.

It wasn't long in coming. The media reported both on the new crime scene and Riza's attack on the reporter in as much detail as they could muster. Irritation flared as the old man reached the last paragraph of the article.

While not officially dubbed so by investigators, the general public has taken to referring to the perpetrator as the East-Central Slayer, owing to the locations and extremely violent natures of the crimes.

Sitting back in the chair, Grumman slid a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes. "Of all the names they could have come up with…. This is precisely what I had hoped to avoid."

Letting the newspaper flop flat onto the desk, he took a moment to huff out an irritated sigh before reaching for the telephone. It was the work of a moment to dial, waiting patiently until there was acknowledgement from the other end. "I'd say 'good morning,' but I suspect you know what's in this morning's paper."

"If you're referring to the attack on Plum Street yesterday, sir, then yes, I'm aware. And if you hadn't beaten me to it, I was going to call you."

"Hmm." Eyeing the tiny print of the article through his glasses, Grumman rested a hand on the polished wooden surface, his fingers drumming absently. "And are you also aware that there is a strong media opinion that my granddaughter may be charged with assault sometime in the next day or so?"

Roy at least had the good grace to sound shamefaced. "…Yes, sir. I'm… I was there. If it's any consolation, she was provoked."

"I didn't think she wouldn't be. Seeing as I suspect you two spent the night in each other's company, it shouldn't be too much trouble for you to put her on the phone, should it." He was trying hard for the tone of a firm, parental disciplinarian, but not having had that much luck with parenting in the past, he knew he sounded more like the deeply irritated officer he was.

"She's still asleep, sir." The barest hint of steel had entered the younger man's tone; standing up for his lady love when she wasn't awake to defend herself. "There was a… a bit of a security breach last night, and we were both up late. It's my opinion she could use the rest."

Quiet alarm bells had gone off in his head by the second sentence, and Grumman frowned deeply. "Explain."

There was the sound of a deep breath, and then an extremely tired-sounding, "Sir, I hope like hell you're sitting down."

Within minutes, Grumman was very glad he was. He listened in nearly slack-jawed amazement and horror as Roy detailed the strange man's inexplicable entry, the bizarre attack, and the fast exit. His stomach churned in sympathy as it was made clear that his granddaughter — my girl, my poor girl — had had some stranger's blood forced down her throat for some unknown and probably perverse reason, and had promptly vomited it back up.

Too shocked to feel angry, he ran a hand through his thinning hair as Roy finished, "I left her sleeping about an hour ago, and if she's still out by nine-thirty, I'll wake her."

"That's fine. Being consultants on the case, you're not compelled to be at Headquarters at any regular hour. You can come and go as you wish." He blew out a sigh. "Have you considered having her checked out medically? To make sure there's no ill effect from… from the incident last night?"

"I'll ask her about it, but I think she got rid of anything she swallowed." There was a pause. "In the meantime, sir, would it be too much to ask that you not tell General Hakuro what happened? He's already looking for an excuse to throw us out, and I'd rather not give him the leverage to do so."

He smiled grimly, reaching out to fold the newspaper closed. "Hakuro may talk a big game, but I've made it clear to him that his power in this is strictly supervisory. Hiring and firing, so to speak, is my jurisdiction, not his."

"Understood, sir." Another pause. "Was there anything else, sir? If not, I should call in to East City Headquarters and let them know we might be a while in getting there. I can say we're going over files here —"

"That won't be necessary." Grumman's eyes were on the article about the Angelini crime scene, specifically on the black and white photograph that showed both Colonel and Lieutenant. The dark-haired alchemist was on ground level, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses as he watched a sheet-covered gurney pass with its deadweight load. A man in a tweed blazer with a press pass tucked in his hat was approaching from behind, trying to look casual… but not escaping the sharp gaze of Hawkeye, who watched from the raised front steps of the house. Even in the grainy photograph, Grumman could see the shoulders raised in tension, the alertness in those brown eyes so like his daughter's…..

"…Say again, sir?"

"You won't need to let Eastern HQ know that you'll be away for a while," Grumman said firmly. "As I told you, I hold the veto power for who handles this case." He took a deep breath, folding the pages of newsprint closed over the photograph. "I believe you have other commitments to concern you; Major Armstrong and the remainder of your staff will continue the investigation."

"Sir, I—"

Grumman's voice dropped low, only for the ears of the man on the other end of the line. "Roy, this is not up for discussion. I'm making an executive decision here, and as a superior officer, the Führer-President, and a close friend, I expect it to be followed. Am I clear?"

A short silence, followed by an equally short sigh preceded the answer. "Yes… Your Excellency, sir." The use of the formal title was not lost on Grumman, but he chose to ignore it. "Would it be too much to ask, however, exactly —"

"Why?"

She had settled into a chair at the table as he told the story, her gaze intent on his face. Roy stared back, sympathetic and with the last vestiges of his own annoyance stamped in those dark eyes. His fingers, resting on the side of his coffee mug as he spoke, began drumming random, absent-minded patterns.

"He gave a few reasons," he said, shrugging fatalistically. "The first was to distance you from whatever media attention any assault charges are going to get you, if that reporter — what's his name, Collins? — decides to file. The second was that the killer obviously has an interest in possibly both of us and definitely you, so Grumman's hoping that we can slip out quietly, without drawing attention to ourselves, and he won't be able to trail us." He lifted the mug to his lips, saying before he took a sip, "And the third was that we're needed elsewhere."

Riza knew frustration was still furrowing her brow, and she made no attempt to hide it. Folding her hands on the table, she studied her fingernails a moment, trying to calm the flare of irritation and anger that had sprung up in her chest. "When you say elsewhere," she began at last, "you mean —"

He nodded. "Ishval."

She closed her right hand into a fist, feeling the slight dig of her nails against the skin of her palm. It didn't hurt, per se, it was more like… pressure. Straightening the fingers again, she contemplated the crescent-shaped indents in her skin. Calm… calm…. "And who is going to take over the investigation here?"

Roy was watching her, dark eyes taking in every small movement. "Grumman didn't assign anyone; he told me to choose two replacements that I thought could handle it. I thought maybe Rebecca would be able, but we've partnered her with Havoc in the past and he's obviously out of commission." He tilted his head to one side, regarding her with new interest. "I'd like your thoughts on it as well. Maybe there's someone I'm overlooking?"

"Rebecca's a good choice; she complained about having to deal with the case, but she'll take it seriously if she's at the forefront of the East City investigations." Pausing, Riza ran carefully through a list of their mutual contacts, trying to come up with a name that might be a promising candidate.

Finally, she looked up. "General Armstrong has already done us one favour, by lending you Major Miles to help with the Ishval reconstruction," she said. "What are the odds she'd give you back Falman as well? Again, on a temporary basis. Until this little fiasco is over."

He was already nodding slowly. "I'd considered that. I don't know if she'll agree to it, especially since it means helping me when she doesn't absolutely have to… but it's certainly worth a shot." Tilting his mug to look into the depths, he frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe if we arranged for the credit for an arrest to go to Briggs instead of East City…."

She watched him fall into contemplative silence, waiting a moment before speaking. "Either way… we're being benched again."

Roy's eyes flicked up to meet hers, clearly gauging her mood before he answered. "…Yeah. We are." Tossing back the last of his coffee, he got to his feet and started toward the apartment's small kitchen. "I still keep turning it over in my head, trying to find a way that we could stay, or that we could work our way back onto the case… but I'm not coming up with much."

"You said Grumman called here nearly an hour ago?" She watched as he nodded, refilling his mug and taking a clean one from a cupboard for her. "Then he'll already have called Hakuro and told him to expect another investigative team. And he'll be only too happy to avoid working with either you or I."

"Sometimes it's nice knowing a superior officer hates you and everything you stand for," Roy said mildly, starting back toward the table. "It makes every success feel that little bit better. Until things start working against you, and then it's just a nuisance." He set her cup in front of her. "I also briefly considered beginning a separate, private investigation on our own… but even with all our contacts and connections, I doubt we'd get very far."

She propped her chin in one hand, leaning over the cup to inhale the rich, savoury scent in appreciation. "That's assuming they would want to talk at all. Casella was nervous enough, thanks to what happened on the Promised Day; what's to say the others wouldn't be the same, especially if word has gotten out of what I did to Collins."

"It has." Roy grinned half-heartedly. "But your newspaper photo was very nearly as pretty as the real you."

Riza couldn't stifle a return smile, but she managed to quash the urge to laugh. "Flattery won't clear me at court-martial, sir," she said dryly, reaching for her cup. She sipped, the smile fading. "Which, I'll be honest, is one of the better reasons Grumman gave for taking us off the investigation."

He looked at her curiously. "You want to run for it? Get out of town before the lawyers begin circling?" His tone was joking, but his eyes were not.

She shook her head. "I didn't mean it that way. What I did was… I don't think it was exactly wrong, because I did perceive him to be a threat. But I definitely didn't handle it in a way that was… professional, for lack of a better term. I overreacted." Thoughtful, she gently swirled the coffee in her mug, watching the way it splashed up the sides. "Before we leave for Ishval, I think I should take you up on the suggestion you made, about calling a meeting with Collins and whatever lawyer he might have hired. See if he'd be willing to let things go if I apologized."

Leaning forward, folding his arms on the table, Roy nodded. "At the very least, he won't be able to claim you didn't demonstrate remorse for it, or whatever the legal jargon for it is. Though I think it would also be a good idea to have a backup plan for if he doesn't decide to forgive you."

Smiling over the rim of her cup, she shrugged one shoulder. "I thought that was what the Ishval trip was for?" Taking another sip, she set the mug back on the table, cradling the warm ceramic in both hands. "That being said… how exactly are we supposed to get out there? Trains haven't run out that far in, what, six? Seven years?"

"Not since the end of the war," Roy agreed. One hand rose, rubbing unconsciously at the light growth of stubble just starting to darken his jawline. "The way I figure it, we can either take a train from here to Resembool and find a car charter that'll take us the rest of the way to Ishval… or else we drive ourselves in the car we got from Eastern HQ."

Her gaze was steady on the table top, though introspective as she mulled it over. "It's a day and a half by train from Resembool to the outskirts of Ishval. That's three days by car," she reminded him. When she looked up, she was smiling again. "And I seem to remember you saying you hate camping almost as much as you hate going to the dentist."

He levelled a finger at her, matching her smile. "I hate military camps," he corrected, mock-severely. "But three days alone with you, sunshine during the day and stars at night?" Dropping his hand, he leaned forward. "I think I can handle that."

One blonde eyebrow quirked upward. "Is this a military expedition, or a romantic getaway?"

"Who's to say it can't be both?"

"Ah, efficiency. I like it." Leaning forward to meet him, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before getting up and making her way back down the hallway, coffee cup still in one hand. "There's a lot of supplies and equipment to line up, if that's the case, not to mention I'll need to make some apologetic overtures toward Mr. Collins. I think it's high time I got started."

Roy's eyes followed her across the room, watching the way his shirt hung on that lithe frame, how the hem stopped at the right length to give some decent modesty, while at the same time showing enough leg to be enticing. He got up to follow her, his own pace leisurely and mug still in hand.

"Since we're already off the case and don't have any official business that's absolutely pressing," he said, lifting his coffee for a too-casual-to-be-innocent sip, "then I think maybe I ought to reassure myself that you're as well as you seem to be."

He caught up to her in the bedroom doorway as she paused, looking back over her shoulder with a knowing smile. "I take it you mean a physical examination?" Her eyes wandered south along his body, then back to his face. "An… intensive one at that?"

Reaching out with his free hand, Roy tugged lightly on the open shirt collar, ignoring the red scar line and two small, round marks either side of it. "Strip, shirt thief."

CITY OF JADAD, GUNJA REGION, ISHVAL

1103 A.M., APRIL 17

He didn't like to think of how long it had been since he walked the packed-sand streets of an Ishvalan city, since he had smelled the warm, earthy scent of brick houses baking under the sun in the cloudless sky above. Things were beginning to come back to him: his feet instinctively gripping the soles of the sandals and adjusting in mid-step to any grit that shifted underneath, he carried one arm tucked neatly against his ribs to keep his robe from flapping open in the light breeze, and he held his head high, with the proper bearing of a full warrior.

The man with no name breathed deep, smelling the familiar scents of home, and for the first time in far too long… felt as close to at peace as he had ever been.

It wasn't possible to relax fully, of course. All around him were the remains of crumbled buildings, chunks of stone and mortar, shattered wooden beams, and splintered doors. What houses had had small gardens were left with dried and withered weeds, slowly disintegrating into dust.

He paused at the end of the street as it opened into a plaza, taking a moment to study his surroundings. It was rocky, desolate, covered in dust and rubble… but underneath it all, he felt a pulse. There was a faint thrumming in the earth below his feet, and that minute vibration meant life. Life that would be breathed back into the city, the region, and the provinces beyond.

Ishval would live again. "Inshbala'ah," he murmured to himself. "God willing."

Turning down a street leading out of the plaza, he kept his head up, watching as signs of habitation began to appear. Here and there, a small house would be in a greater state of repair than its neighbours, or small children would be playing in a lot among the rocks and debris. They stopped to stare as he passed, and the unnamed man tugged the robe closer over his arms to hide the tattoos imprinted there.

He knew the children whispered after he was out of earshot. He didn't mind; he was a stranger, and a strange one at that. An Ishvalan that had chosen to mark his flesh with the symbols and sciences of Amestris and Xing was not precisely an outcast, but they were viewed with curiosity… and more than a little suspicion.

He reached the large city administration building soon after, entering the cool, shaded interior that echoed back the murmured conversations of two or three groups in the atrium-like entryway. Scar turned left down a corridor, knowing the eyes of a trip of elders followed him as he went.

The small office-style space that had been given to himself and Miles was down another, smaller corridor and behind a door of simple wooden planks. It was devoid of most Amestrian-style furniture, furnished instead with a pair of low writing desks, a tiny kitchen alcove barely big enough for one person, woven cloth mats on the baked clay floor, and an array of plush cushions arranged in a conversational circle.

Looking up from behind one desk as the door opened, Miles paused in whatever he was writing to nod in greeting. "Welcome back. Did you find what you were looking for?"

Scar nodded, settling cross-legged behind the other table. "There's an unoccupied house in the southern district that should suffice. The damage is light, and easily repaired. And we were considering an outpost office in that area anyway, so that residents wouldn't have to trek all the way over here."

Miles nodded again. "Good. We can file a claim for it this afternoon." He pointed with his pen to a small, open envelope on Scar's desk before going back to his writing. "But it looks like we'll need to scope a second house for what's coming."

Frowning in puzzlement, the scarred man removed a single-folded piece of paper from the envelope, briefly skimming the telegraphed message. Neat type spelled out: BY ORDER CENTRAL HQ: MUSTANG AND HAWKEYE INBOUND WILL ARRIVE IN THREE DAYS TO BEGIN WORK WITH RECONSTRUCTION AUTHORITY ADVISE ON ARRIVAL.

The frown didn't ease. "They're on their way already? Did they resolve their murder case so quickly?"

A quiet chuckle came from across the room. "Not so much. From the phone call that preceded that message — it's really just a formal notice, for our records — the investigation is being left to General Armstrong's younger brother and whatever staff of Mustang's isn't at Briggs or in a wheelchair. There was some kind of altercation, and both Colonel and Lieutenant were quietly ushered to the sidelines."

Scar looked up, his only other reaction a single raised eyebrow. "Altercation?" he repeated.

Miles smiled. "Apparently, the young lady punched a particularly aggressive reporter."

He gave no outward sign of surprise or other reaction, but Scar couldn't deny being impressed. He had known the Lieutenant was emotionally strong, certainly; her fortitude in talking Mustang down from the unreasoning rage he had harboured against Envy was proof enough of that. But she hadn't struck him as being particularly physically strong. Perhaps Amestrian hand-to-hand training wasn't quite as lax as he thought it to be.

"I suppose my next question ought to be how they think they'll be getting out here," he said at last. "We've talked about clearing the old train tracks, but there isn't a definitive plan."

"I imagine they're driving." Miles shrugged. "As for the tracks, the main problem is just getting them clear of sand once they leave the greener areas, and making sure they're still structurally sound. Once the military withdrew from Ishval following the conflict, they didn't spend too much effort to maintain them. It was no longer a priority."

He looked up at the warrior, red eyes flicking to the tattooing visible on the other man's arms. "There is, of course, an easier solution than manual labour. One that perhaps the rest of our people don't necessarily need to know about."

Scar was already shaking his head. "Our people are too proud and too traditional to allow it, or to accept the use of alchemy if it were done without consulting them. The general feeling around here is that we will rebuild from the ashes and rubble and take pride in the work… and that extends to reopening the railway."

Miles shrugged, going back to his documents. "It was a thought."

Searching briefly through several folded maps on the desk top, Scar selected the one he wanted and laid it flat on the weathered wooden surface. He took a thin charcoal stick, running one rough finger over the layout of the city until he found the building he was looking for. He marked it with an X, before locating the building's indicator number on a sheet filled with them and marking a second X next to it.

His eyes roved over the map again, over multiple black Xs marking inhabited locations or those slated for some purpose. Red ink slashed through even more former buildings, showing where there was simply too much structural damage for the building to be repaired.

The Ishvalan city wasn't laid out like an Amestrian one. Where those were laid out in an orderly fashion, with street names and numbers for each building, the desert city spread unevenly over the map page, its streets full of twists and turns, opening into plazas and culminating abruptly in dead ends. Wide avenues branched off into the narrower streets and thin alleys, like the web of some crazed spider… and yet there was order in the chaos.

The arid landscape held few rivers, but the streets of its cities functioned in the same way. Creeks fed into streams that fed into the river, and the river carried its flow — its people — to the major locations.

Scar marked a location less than a mile east from the city administration building, before noting the indicator number and getting back to his feet. "With the Colonel and Lieutenant on their way, they're going to need a place to stay once they get here," he said, straightening the robe. It had been so long since he'd worn one, his body had forgotten the practiced motions needed to keep the thing properly in place. "I think I know of one; I'm going to go check on it."

"I'll put the paperwork in motion, and fast track it through," Miles said, without looking up. He smiled wryly. "I've never done so much paperwork in my life, and I was the assistant to a General."

"Ishval was taken from us with fire and iron," Scar murmured, heading toward the door. "We're taking it back with paper."

Moments later, he stepped again from cool shade to warm sun, immediately feeling the baking heat settling over him. The loose folds of the robe helped to dissipate the warmth, but sweat still prickled on his back. It stung a little on his still-healing wounds, but he ignored the pain, letting it be a reminder of what he had faced and survived.

He had heard the tales, from his own people and from the female General's massively burly brother, of how Supreme Cleric Logue Lowe had faced Bradley man to man, similar to what he had done. But where the old priest had put forward the path of least resistance, Scar had presented as much as he possibly could, all in the name of saving the country that had committed genocide on his people. He supposed that of himself and Lowe, he had been the one to get off lucky in facing Bradley.

Convincing his people to help had been a monumental task. Had his old master not intervened on his behalf, Scar wasn't sure he would have convinced anyone at all. Actions had always spoken louder than words with him, especially after the war, because his mind would not marshal the words into a feasible argument. He was a fighter, not a politician, not a clan leader….

And yet, suddenly, he was something very close to that.

As he walked the streets of the half-ruined city, those he came across recognized him by the scar on his forehead. Men offered silent nods of acknowledgement, women smiled in greeting, children stared in wonder at the man of legend. The man who swore vengeance and forsook his name, who killed and then fought alongside alchemists and soldiers, who saved the country he had sworn to hate for eternity.

The attention left him uncomfortable, after so long spent in hiding.

He reached the house he had chosen for the two inbound soldiers, pausing before opening the door. Mustang and Hawkeye were a two-person team, to be sure, but he wondered if it were overstepping some boundary to put them up in the same house. Ishvalan warriors didn't separate themselves by gender, but the Amestrians were more prudish on the subject, no matter a person's skills.

He brushed away the thought; if there were a problem with them sharing accommodations, there were enough buildings in tolerable states of repair for Colonel and Lieutenant to have their space.

The interior of the house was relatively clean, the only signs of its long disuse being the layer of dust on every surface windswept sand on the dirt floors. Other than that, it appeared to be fully functional, if unfurnished. That was easily rectified; some of the first people to flock back to the city after the Battle of Central had been craftsmen and women skilled in the creation of household goods. They had been working ever since with the shipments Miles had arranged for from Amestris of fabric, cotton batting, wicker, wood, and tools.

Making a mental note to apply to the goods warehouse for at least the bare minimum in furnishings - seating, food preparation, a table, and two sleeping pallets - he turned his attention to examining the walls. A handful of pockmarks from bullets that would need to be plastered over, a couple cracks that needed the same treatment… but overall, they should find it at least liveable. The desert lifestyle didn't offer much in comfort, but made up for it in lack of complication. It would suit a more stoic outlook like Lieutenant Hawkeye, and he doubted the Colonel would have much trouble adjusting.

They were an interesting pair. Stark juxtaposition when standing next to each other — male and female, dark and fair-haired, tall and short, alchemist and non-alchemist, hot-headed and cool demeanour, vocal and quiet…. Yet even he, who had only dealt with them personally twice could see the almost effortless partnership. He had seen it when Hawkeye kicked her superior's feet out from under him to save him from Scar's attack, and again when Mustang stepped back from rage and vengeance, asking her forgiveness.

On his way out of the house, he paused in the doorway, looking around the small space. He had seen how the other side lived and worked. He had been in their cities, studied their infrastructure, watched their movements. He had been deep inside their world.

Now, they would come to his, not as enemies, but as allies. And Scar found himself looking forward to it.

[ssfoc]

I would be very surprised if Louis doesn't play his guitar on at least 1 of his songs in his performances. He's said he loves music with a strong guitar. He's also teased us at least 4 times from memory, with pics of himself holding a guitar (including the b/w that Harry took on his ig). I'm ready to die when he blesses us with his guitar playing talents 😊

He has a variety of guitars at the London public house— acoustics, acoustic-electric hybrids, and at least one electric Stratocaster. I think he has these guitars to test out different sounds for various tracks.

Always You, for instance, starts with an acoustic-electric hybrid with a synth bass stem, that could be converted to full drum set. (Warning: music theory ahead). The song starts with a very cool note on the scale— the second note, or supertonic. This note is part of a V7 (dominant seventh) chord, which means the song starts in the middle of a cadence: V7, vi, V, IV, I. These chords are all played by the guitar before the voice sings. The effect is of a descending melody, like water cascading down a waterfall. But the song doesn’t start at the top of the waterfall— it starts in the middle, with little hesitations and breaks.

To me, the impression of the opening chords is someone in the middle of a thought, recalling something happy/sad (the seventh chord), and then it resolves to something tender and sweet (the tonic chord).

It’s unusual and difficult to start a song on a dominant seventh— it’s an unstable chord. And it doesn’t even start on the dominant note, but the supertonic.

That’s why I’m so excited to hear this song. Harmonically, it’s adventurous. And it’s done with a casual breeziness like it’s easy! And normal! (Legends only)

A few months ago, I was listening to JLY, and something struck me about the harmonic structure too. It’s the same supertonic note that starts the song, the second note of the scale. The song is in C major (or A minor, depending on interpretation), and the note that starts it is D. This, the second note of a C scale, is a note that doesn’t belong in the first three chords of the song (C major, F major, a minor), so the song starts off inherently unstable.

Why? Because the song is about façades and their deceptions. The harmonies constantly waver between major (“happy”) and minor (“sad”) chords, because he’s writing about the flip sides of fame.

The production is very spare. Mostly you hear Louis’ naked voice. In the opening verses, there are synth sounds of B, E, and G— the notes of an e minor chord, the dominant (V, or fifth) chord to an a minor key. So does this mean the key is actually a minor? Or is it C major? The song switches back and forth.

This is a complex and layered way of writing a song. He’s writing a song that implies both keys. He’s using chords that suggest modulation in C Major (C - F - a) but also throwing in notes from an a minor modulation (a - e). They exist at the same time. The song gives a feeling of being unsettled, uneasy. The unstable key is part of the reason.

Why does he do this? The short answer is that façades lie. Headlines lie. What you see isn’t what is really going on.

The other interpretation is that the song is about layers. The words imply one thing. But listen to the harmonies, and they say something more. These things all exist at the same time, the happy and the sad, the obvious and the hidden. They’re there if you listen.

Notice that when he sings, “I’m just like you,” all the bass beats drop out. The chorus, instead of being anthemic, is totally stripped. It’s one person, at their most vulnerable, with a lone voice.

And when he sings, “Let me be the same,” the note for “same” is C. This is a note shared between the C major and a minor chords. It belongs to both the exposed and the hidden keys, to both happy and sad worlds. He is in the middle of it all. He wants to be “the same”: to belong, to reveal, to become.

If that isn’t genius songwriting? It’s such a simple-sounding song, so compact, so lightly produced. It packs a punch. I think the lyric video just drives that point home.

His mind is amazing. Anyway, yes, I’d love to hear him play guitar as well, and piano! I don’t know if I will ever get to in person (personal circumstances may interfere), but even watching videos would be fantastic.

[csykora]

Much love in my heart for Kuzy, obviously, but do you have an opinion about why someone who is so good at stick handling seems to take so many careless stick-related penalties (slashing, hooking, tripping, etc.)? I read in the Washington Post today that Tom Wilson was the only Cap with more penalties than Kuzy this season :(. Obviously I don't expect you to know everything that goes on in his head; I'm just wondering if you have a guess as to why this seems to happen so often.

In the immortal words of McKeen’s 2010 Draft Guide,

“he is ornery and does not hesitate to stick the opposition as he plays with sandpaper and grit.”

If it’s not immediately clear, they thought that was a great thing. Because the value of penalties in hockey is some complex and loaded silliness.

Thanks for pointing this out, it was interesting to look into. I’m going to look at the situation first, and then come back around to why I think it is this way.

My answer is also going to be entirely positive, so anyone who is suddenly horrified for tonight: be calm.

Kuznetsov came in third in penalty minutes for the regular season, behind Tom Wilson and Brooks Orpik. Kuz is also third in the playoffs at 12, led by Wilson (16) and Oshie (17) as of Game 2.

If we look at their running totals, he’s still behind Orpik (who has also added 4). So I don’t know where the idea of him being second comes from. (What’s up, Washington Post?)

Because of how much more attention I think Kuznetsov draws in the playoffs and also because I think using running totals is rather Improper, I’m going to look at the regular season and the playoffs separately, and use these numbers.

No one is taking Tom’s bloody crown here. But what else does 48 mean in context?

Well, it’s barely more than Bäckström, and nobody is talking about careless can’t-control-himself Nick.

I mean that completely gently, just that we should all remember to put a single statistic in context and examine our eye tests—why is it that Kuznetsov’s mistakes catch our eye? Is it about the type of plays and penalties? Our expectations for him, or our expectations for other guys? Why do we notice them sometimes and not other times?

He’s held steady between mid 20s-mid 40s in PIMs his entire career. He was consistent at 30-40 PIMs with Traktor (the KHL plays 60 game seasons), dropping to 24 his first full season with Washington and then stabilizing at 30-40s again. It’s slowly risen over the years with Washington, but so has his time on ice (and the amount of attention he gets, which I’ll come back to.) While 48 is his career high, it’s only one penalty more than he took last season, and it isn’t wildly outside his normal range. So his game hasn’t changed.

It’s the rest of the team.

Last season Kuznetsov took 46 penalty minutes but came in 7th on the team. Wilson took 133, and after him Orlov, Ovechkin, Williams, Winnik, and Orpik fell in with 51-48. He was 8th the year before that.

You know who I blame for Kuznetsov coming in 3ʳᵈ this year?

Tom Wilson.

Specifically, Top Line Tom.

(Also a bunch of trades.)

I was looking at other players to put Kuznetsov in context, and saw something I didn’t think I would. We’re going to take an apparent detour because we need to check this out.

Ovechkin has been a PIM leader his entire career. For the last few years he’s held steady in the 50s, always taking a spot ahead of Kuznetsov. This year Ovi dropped to 32. That’s from 25 individual penalties to 16 penalties, none of them majors.

His hits are down from 216 to 139. That’s from 2.6 hits per game to 1.7 hits per game. He managed to cram in 120 during the shortened lockout season. 172 as a rookie. He’s a solid 200+ hitter, and he’s down to 139?

I’ve thought this watching games all season, but I’m a grump and I was sure the statistics wouldn’t back my eye-test up, actually. But here it is, so here’s what I think. Ovi is focused on playing high-flying technical hockey now that he has a right wing who can clear space for him and his center.

Ovechkin wanted to make a point of coming back faster this year, so he would be playing a little more like this regardless, but he would be fighting for it. He’s spent the last few years trying to shove the other team off him and his center and use that space at the same time. Wilson is making it possible for him to focus.

I don’t mean that Wilson is “taking the penalties Ovi otherwise would be.” I think Wilson’s penalties are still almost entirely a hangover. I mean that in his dreams, Ovechkin wants a right wing who’s both stunningly fast, to counterbalance Ovi and his center as they set up, and strong enough to force the other team to pay attention to him instead of them. (Ovi also likes it when they punch people, but no one ever said Ovechkin has great taste in men.)

That’s pretty hard to find (sorry, can you all hear me grinding my teeth?), but under the habits, Wilson is a bizarre rare mix of talents, and he’s not only started to use them for Ovi and Kuznetsov, I think he’s allowing Ovi to meaningfully change his own game.

So Ovi’s making fewer hits and taking fewer penalties.

And they’ve traded Williams, Winnik, Chimera, and the ~50 PIM guys.

They also dropped the collective weight of the D-core on Orlov’s fabulous shoulders, and he took a deep breath, looked the problem right in the eye, and committed. He’s gone from 19 to 23 minutes of ice time a night, but dropped from 51 to 22 penalty minutes. We wanna talk about penalty minutes as an evaluation of play, lord have mercy, let’s talk more about Orlov’s.  

So that all explains to me how Kuznetsov took just one more penalty this year than last year, but suddenly he looks worse, in comparison to teammates who are taking fewer penalties.  

I’m still pretty sure “taking 48 penalty minutes” wasn’t part of Kuznetsov’s thesis on penalty killing.

It’s a really average penalty time compared to other players, but he isn’t. So would I like him to be in the box less? Yes. (Nicky too.)

Would I like him to slash less? The first answer is yes because I don’t like slashing much—but before that I want to know what’s leading to him doing it, and I want that to happen less.

People always do things for reasons. I don’t know what all their reasons are, and if I did I might not agree that that was a great reason to do that, but I kind of think it’s wrong to say that someone ‘just does’ things, that they’re unreasonable, inexplicable, “stupid and dumb” or “crazy,” that their thoughts are so unworthy of understanding that they’re not even real. I don’t know what he’s thinking, I might not like it, but I’m going to respect that he’s thinking something.

This is what we’re gonna call my working theory of his mind.

So here’s where I start to look at Kuznetsov’s role.

This is the year Kuznetsov is an NHL star, right? He’s not only on the top line, other teams’ commentators are calling it the Kuznetsov line about as often as the Ovechkin line now. Other teams’ fans not only know who he is, they know their team will have to know to plan around him.

I think in regular season games in the past, teams have been able to get away, or thought they would be able to get away, with just shutting down the shooters he always passed to. Now it’s impossible to predict whether he’ll pass or shoot, and his good passes are going to Ovechkin, who is great at catching passes.

He’s also always lit up in the playoffs. (Every year this is when the media start saying, “Oh! This guy might be a star!”) The format works for him: I think he likes getting so much time to test things out and pick another team apart, especially in overtime. The more time he has, the more chances add up. So you have to, have to, have to plan your playoff series around shutting him down.

The obvious way to shut a possession guy down is with physical play, but Kuznetsov makes that difficult. He is fast, and more than that he’s quick—he can react and reach top speed in very little space or time—and he’s very, very mobile. Most opponents never get close to him.

If you’re tied with John Carlson, you don’t smash much. (Contrast this with the heavy hitters, Oshie, Orlov, Ovechkin, Smith-Pelly, Orpik, Wilson—between 124 and 250 hits.)

Kuznetsov was hit 65 times this season.

(I’m not sure if the good folks at morehockeystats were including the 3 times Wilson’s destroyed him.)

For comparison at the same position, Bäckström has taken 103 hits and Eller was hit 156 times this season. I expected Kuznetsov’s hit count to be lower, but 65 is pretty wild.

What this suggests to me is

he’s effective as heck at avoiding hits.

65 is only a couple times more than people laid hits on Ovechkin, and people do not want to hit Ovechkin. It’s like hitting an opossum with your car instead of hitting a moose—I’m not advocating either, but one would fuck up the possum, and the other will wreck you.

But Kuznetsov was also awarded 23 penalties against the other team. Bäckström only drew 18. What are those penalties for, if he’s not getting hit so much?

Well, you can’t hope to catch him, so what do you do?

You use your handy hooking stick.

I tried to take these all last game. It wasn’t scientific, but it was a lot of photos. You can see from his posture Cirelli knows he won’t be able to pass or keep up with Kuznetsov, so he’s throwing himself forward off his feet to get a little closer. He has enough control to make try to make that a strict stick check, but how easy would it be for someone to hook or slash instead?

And the same goes the other way. Kuznetsov doesn’t want to let opponents close to him, so if he wants to reach them, he’s reaching out with his stick.

(I wrote a whole extra essay on his particular style of stickhandling in here, but then realized it wasn’t germane and all the quotes I found for evidence were bad porn dialogue.)

In his mind, I think he does stuff

to stop people tripping and slashing him

because he can

Here’s why I don’t like getting to the end of the season and lumping all penalties into a big bad pile.

Right now I can still remember when Letang slashed Kuznetsov twice in Game 2, injuring his hand, and Kuznetsov slashed back and took a penalty.

I had no problem in the world with that*. If I were any of his teammates or his coach, I would be screaming at him from the bench to get that guy off him one way or another. The ideal course of action is for Kuz to not respond risking a penalty and for Letang to not slash him a third time. But Letang is not going to not slash him again, and Kuznetsov’s hands are worth a heck of a lot more than 2 minutes, at least in most game situations. If we’re thinking strategically, yeah, we can eat that penalty.

He also takes penalties for doing some wild stuff. I’ve mislead a little, because Kuznetsov loves to get up close—on his terms. He can and will, as Joe B. puts it, “skate between their legs.” (I miss Joe B.) When he’s chasing an opponent he’ll rush up from behind and then instead of laying a hit he’ll keep skating with them, placing his feet in between theirs. This is not something most people do, because it is a terrible idea, but he thinks he can do it, so he does.

Often he really does skate or stickhandle around them with tripping them. But when he doesn’t get it quite right, it looks blatantly bad, because no one else would think they can get under someone else’s feet and somehow not trip them.

“What do you mean, I tripped him?”

“You stuck your foot between his feet, and then he fell down.”

“Well, he’s probably a terrible skater, no?”

By the end of the season, I don’t know how many penalties he took for slashing in (in his mind) self-defense, and how many times he stuck his stick or his foot between somebody else’s skates because he could (or thought he could), and how many times because he was annoyed and wanted to smack someone. I know there’s some of each in the mix.

I don’t like all of them. I’m also not worked about them as a whole, and I’d encourage anyone who is to look past the scary #3 in the rankings to the context. (And I realize I probably just said that to a Washington Post sports writer somewhere. Uh.)

Numbers and figures from NHL.com, Corsica, Fox Sports, Elite Prospects, and MoreHockeyStats.

*this is a lie, I was displeased with them both, because I don’t want anyone slashing anyone.

Note: I don’t feel like reading any “ugh, of course Orpik would be in there!” on this post today. I agree it’s part of the emergency math that needs to be done about his place on the team, but if you didn’t already know his numbers, please save it.