#when i hadn't heard the buildup

[copia]

would anybody be able to help a clueless person out and let me know the fan names of all of papa iii's ghouls 👀 i'm aware of omega obviously

[splaede]

AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 4)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER FOUR. armin's confidence

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: You and Armin tackle one of his insecurities. Later that night, things somehow get a little too close for comfort.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: none

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

Nighttime had fallen at a snail's pace—so horribly and painstakingly slow to the point where you had nothing to do at home but remind yourself about the fact that you had disappeared on Eren and Mikasa. Even worse, you'd left right after your last few text messages, specifically the one saying you had been there.

So far, nothing from either of them. You wondered if they'd even read what you had sent.

The moment you decided to finally apologize and fill them in on your whereabouts, your phone suddenly rang. 

A call from Eren.

Oh, speak of the devil.

It had been two hours since you'd last seen him and since you'd last left with Armin. You hastily picked up his call with fumbling fingers.

"Where are you?"

His voice echoed loudly from your palms, gruff and agitated. He sounded more angry, more frantic than you were expecting, and you instantly felt the guilt creep into your veins. You would've called him sooner if Armin hadn't been engrossing you in an embarrassing story that he told a little too loudly at your restaurant table.

"I'm at home," you answered plainly.

"Sorry, I meant, where were you? Why'd you two leave Trost’s Kitchen?"

You wondered how he knew that you'd left their restaurant. It didn't take an idiot to take a look around and see how that all of the tables were occupied, but the confidence he spoke with unsettled you.

If he knew, then why hadn't he said anything earlier? You didn't blame him, though. He looked like he was having a good time. In fact, you hadn't texted for the same reason.

You were convinced it was as if he called you because he just wanted to hear the reason for himself—as if he insisted you had been somewhere else other than your home.

As if he'd expected you and Armin to run off.

You suddenly blanched at your thinking. You were sure the more rational reason was that Eren probably realized how busy and packed Trost's Kitchen was.

Jabbing at your volume button, you quickly explained, "I'm so sorry, Eren. The line there was long, so Armin and I ate somewhere else. I forgot to tell you earlier."

Then, nothing.

Nothing but the static of your phone and the distant hum of your air conditioning. 

You were so, so guiltily aware of the silence on the other end of the line.

Glancing at your screen, you finally heard Eren's breath hitch amidst the drone of white noise. Then, a breath of hesitance.

"Oh really...?"

He paused.

"You two are always leaving us."

This time, you paused. Pressing your lips together, you let your entire face simmer into a slow confusion.

Always?

In the split second before you had left Trost's Kitchen, you hadn't been the slightest bit hesitant to leave, not when Armin had been holding out his hand so invitingly, but a greedy, Eren-shaped inkling inside of you had told you otherwise—told you that you would've been willing to stay.

You hadn't realized you were holding your breath until long after he'd finished his sentence.

Always…?

His words rang in your head again. You could clearly hear the disappointment in his voice and vividly picture that twitch of dejectedness on his face when something upset him.

"Eren, what do you mean?"

"You two just…always leave together. Out of nowhere."

He stopped himself for a second, and you could only assume he was ruminating over his words.

"Never mind, actually. It’s okay, don’t worry. We can eat together next time, okay? Night, Y/N."

Was he truly upset? You didn't think it was that big of a big deal, nor did you think he'd care. Things happen, right?

"Night, Eren."

You couldn't tell who hung up first.

Maybe it was all just a misunderstanding. Maybe you were too caught up in the scene, saw them both together, and ran with it. Maybe it was a friendly outing and that was the just nature of their friendship—when they were alone, at least.

The nature of their...friendship.

God, you were starting to overthink again.

How could you not when you had witnessed Eren, your best friend (who you liked a little more than a best friend), and Mikasa, your other best friend, getting along in a way that suggested they were more than friends?

Not that you had gotten uselessly butthurt and let it ruin your night, but it wasn’t something that you had expected.

You sighed. Today's evening ended in a certain guilt that you couldn't seem to scratch off. You guessed it’d be better to leave it alone. The night offered you good things, too, like Armin getting a haircut and treating you to dinner.

You needed to thank him for that some more. He had kept true to his words, made up for leaving, and bought you your favorite meal—without having to ask you where and what you wanted to eat.

Armin was such a sweet friend, wasn't he?

"Y/N, you can choose."

As soon as you had gotten off work the next day, you were quick to accept Armin's offer for a movie night. He was at your apartment to pick you up in a matter of minutes.

What was supposed to be a short visit to the supermarket for movie snacks turned into a long rendezvous to fulfill Armin's grocery shopping list. You were hoping he'd stop once you'd passed by the same frozen foods section for the third time, but he continued his trek down the aisle one more time.

Now standing blindly in the middle of a different aisle, you peered at the shelves of big-branded, colorful chip bags. From the corner of your eye, you saw Armin fiddle with a price tag holder as he awaited your response.

"Let's get these," you suggested, extending your hand.

Before you had the chance to pull the bag from the shelf, he reached it first, plastic crinkling in his hand as he tossed it into the cart.

"Good choice," he chimed.

The shopping cart was moving now, rattling in tandem with the taps of his shoes and the mellow syllables of his voice. Your steps fell into a rhythmic pattern next to his own.

Armin turned to you with a smooth grin. "Do you want to eat my mom's cooking tonight, or do you prefer we buy something? We can order your favorite again."

"Your mom's cooking, for sure. I've missed it."

He beamed, eyes creasing cheerfully at the corners. "I'll make sure she makes extra, then."

Armin sounded excited, almost boyish, and you could see the young, childish, long-haired Armin peeking through the cracks of his innocent smile.

As your eyes flitted away from his wide grin and creased eyes, you were reminded of his short hair. You didn't think you'd ever get used to his new haircut, or if you'll ever be not surprised when you see him. It was so weird—but so good.

He looked pretty.

You two were a short stroll away from checkout when you spotted someone you knew, lingering on their phone just a few steps past the cashiers and near the joint Starbucks cafe. Someone with a familiar head of buzzed hair and a stupid, lopsided grin.

"Connie?" you blurted, earning you a weird look from Armin. "Look over there. You wanna say hi?"

The cart rolled to a slow stop, metal rattling against the friction.

“That means he's going to be the first to see my hair."

You watched him run nimble fingers through his blonde tresses. A few odd strands stuck up comically, but if anything, you thought it made him look cuter. His face, strewn together with worried brows, fluttered closer to what you think was trepidation. And maybe, just maybe, you began to see a trace of familiar insecurity.

"Armin, are you still set on it being a surprise?" you jabbed. In return, he smiled shyly, as if you caught him in the act.

"It won't be a surprise after Connie sees. You know he won't keep quiet." Armin chuckled and shook his head. "I'm going to check out first. I'll meet you guys over there."

The smile he waved you off with was angelic. It pulled gently and sweetly at the corners of his lips, but…it was avoidant. Avoidant and insecure at the thought of someone seeing him.

You didn't get a chance to reciprocate it before he walked off.

"Connie!"

At the call of his name, Connie perked up, eyeing you as you strode to him. He was quick to shoot you an eager, crooked smile.

"Y/N? You're here, too? Didn't expect to run into you." Holding onto his Starbucks cup and still smiling, he tapped your arm as a sign of a friendly greeting.

Before you could even muster a reply, your mouth shut quickly, and you were met with the cold, wet feeling of his cup against your skin. You looked to your side, seeing water pellets trickling down the slope of your arm, wet from the condensate of his Starbucks drink.

In front of you, Connie burst out laughing, leaving you to glower at him.

You wiped at your damp arm with a grimace. "You dumbass," you chided.

Connie only laughed harder, loud and hearty, relishing your sour expression. "Sorry."

He most definitely was not sorry.

You glanced around, hoping that he'd either calm down or laugh quieter because he was attracting an unsettling amount of onlookers from the Starbucks nearby. Neither of those things happened when you hear the sound of Connie's "oh shit!" and the clamor of noisy ruckus and plastic.

You looked down. Connie had just dropped his store-bought container of rotisserie chicken.

Now, it was your turn to laugh. "Connie, why the hell do you have a whole rotisserie chicken?" You had seen it earlier, previously wedged between his arm and torso, but it had now fallen to a sad spot on the supermarket floor.

He rolled his eyes. "You already know Sasha is a pig."

You stood there stupidly with an equally stupid smile, shifting in your shoes as you scrutinized the way he picked up the container from the floor. Something weird always happened when you were around Connie.

"Oh yeah, Y/N, wanna come to my apartment on Saturday?"

You shot him a suggestive look, raising a brow. "Alone?"

His face twisted wryly, and he scoffed at your insinuation. "No! With everybody! Unless..." he challenged, but quickly shook his head when you clicked your tongue. "I was just about to tell the group chat. You coming?"

"Yeah," you began, watching him abruptly swivel around when the barista called his name. "I'll be there."

"That's my order." He motioned to the coffee shop, then glanced at the cup that was already in his hand. "I forgot to get Jean's drink."

You sighed. "You're so dumb that it's laughable."

He pretended not to hear you, but you saw that not-so-subtle eye roll. "Whatever, I'll text you the details, okay? See you!"

And Connie was off.

And you were suddenly startled by a voice behind you.

"Hi, Y/N. Connie left?" Armin shuffled up next to you, pushing the shopping cart that was now filled with grocery bags.

"Mhm," you hummed, "He just left."

"Aw, that sucks."

"Did you purposely avoid him so he wouldn't see your hair?"

He strolled past you, barely letting you catch a glimpse of his faint, smug, and cunning little smile. "No. Why would I do that?"

But the warm, sheepish laugh that betrayed him gave it all away. Like a contagious melody to your ears, you couldn't help but laugh along as you caught up to him.

The moment the two of made it past the exit doors, you were abruptly struck with the late-afternoon sunlight.

Summertime had been pretty relentless lately, and you never did like the hot weather. You were willing to push past that hate to enjoy the peaceful afternoon, but everything was far from your goal of peace. You couldn't quite shake off the downcast of bright light, the incessant screech of the rattling shopping cart against the bumpy pavement, and a new nagging thought in your head.

The walk to his car felt...oddly domestic.

You wondered if Armin was aware of it too, the way he coincidentally threw you a glance. You ignored the scrutiny of his curious eyes and faced ahead.

Attempting to distract yourself from your weird thoughts, you turned to Armin. "Connie wants us to hang out at his place on Saturday. We should go."

He nodded slowly in thought, lips curling into a pleased expression. "Sure. I'm free."

Against your better judgment, you disregarded how off-putting his smile looked, and how ominously his eyes glinted beneath the afternoon sun.

"I'll go anywhere you go," he affirmed.

His almost affectionate answer didn't phase you, not in the slightest, not until Eren's words from last night suddenly came crashing down on you.

You two are always leaving us.

Maybe Eren was right. Armin did seem to follow you wherever you go, and you to him. Even when he asked to hang out, you agreed in a heartbeat, and with Armin's admittance, there was nothing to deny about Eren's observation.

God, it really does seem like it, doesn't it?

You realized how much it had happened recently. Armin following you down Eren's stairs when you left to turn up the air conditioning. Armin taking you home after a day of cleaning at Eren's house. The two of you ditching Eren and Mikasa at the restaurant.

Oh, god, another wave of realization.

The air conditioning. Eren's backyard porch. Where it all started.

"Armin?"

"Yeah?" he mirrored, sparing you a curious blue-eyed glance, blinking away the glare of sunlight ricocheting off his pupils. He leaned in ever-so-subtly, attention tuning into you.

"Do you remember last Saturday? When we fell asleep at Eren's house?" You could see your silhouette in the reflection of his pupils, and you could only hope your worry didn't translate onto your face. "What did you say to Mikasa and Eren before you followed me?"

As the shopping cart took a sharp turn toward his car, it fell silent. The only indication that he heard you was his contemplative stare and the hesitant tremble on his lips.

"Um..." He pulled the trunk open, misty blue eyes distant and unblinking. "Nothing. I didn't say anything. Why? Did something happen?"

Eren's words resurfaced in your head once more.

You two are always leaving us.

You paled at the looming insinuation of you and Armin doing something more—being something more, and how it might've seemed that way to Eren. Knowing that Armin hadn't said anything and left on his own accord make it all the more suspicious.

You and Armin wouldn’t be anything more, right?

The rustle of plastic brought you back to the blonde boy beside you, absentmindedly sliding the shopping bags into the trunk.

Lifting a plastic bag from the cart, you dismissed his question, "No, nothing happened."

His lips curled into an understanding smile. At least, that was what you hoped it was.

Trunk slamming shut, you quickly shuffled away to open the passenger door, Armin following suit on his side. Before you could even fully sit down, you peered out the driver's window just in time to witness Armin getting knocked forward by the neighboring car door.

You heard a muffled "Ah!" escape his mouth as he clutched the shirt fabric of his back, and you didn't have time to register your initial shock when the culprit stepped out with hands over her mouth.

Hitch?

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking!" you heard, although still muffled, from inside the car.

Armin swiftly turned around, his shock replaced by even more as they met eye-to-eye.

"Hitch?" The corners of his lips twitched in surprise, bows furrowing incredulously.

Hitch returned his expression, eyes widening until you swear her lashes touched her eyebrows. She leaned closer to his face as her mouth hangs open. "Armin? Oh my God. You got a haircut? I haven't seen you in so long.”

Instinctively, his hand went to grasp his hair. "Oh, yeah...!"

Breathing out a soft laugh, she grinned. "Wow, it looks great. This is really different."

This was a strange situation; you were stuck inside Armin's car, listening and watching as he spoke to Hitch (meeting her was a coincidence in itself) while she was clueless about your presence. In a supermarket parking lot, no less. If Connie were still here (which was a coincidence that you'd met him here, too), it would've been a lot weirder.

Armin pressed his lips together into a shy smile as the apples of his cheeks reddened, discreetly flickering you a nervous glance through the car window. "Thank you," he mumbled.

At this, Hitch shook her head. "You're so cute and innocent. Still the same as ever."

You smiled to yourself. What an unusual compliment. You were sure she meant no harm, but judging by the tension in his stance and the reluctant twitch at the corner of his lips, you started to think it wasn't so harmless.

The moment he opened his mouth to reply, she quickly turned to the sound of her name being called from behind her.

"I gotta go now." She gestured to her friend. "What a coincidence we met here, right? See you, Armin."

With a slow, sure smile, Armin finally eased from his awkward position, offering her a friendly wave. "Yeah, see you."

He shot her one more glance, and then you were suddenly hit with three things all in the span of what you swore was just a second: the door clicking open, the door shutting close, and the shuffle of his thighs hitting the seat.

"What a coincidence," you echoed.

For a moment, it was quiet, only the distant rattle of metal shopping carts and the slamming of trunks. Armin stilled, tense hands hovering the wheel almost ghostly, shrewd eyes unblinking and staring into nothing.

"Is that how people view me?" Armin's voice rang out, a clear tenor resonating in the calm silence. His hands were now away from the steering wheel and instead shoved inside his pockets, fishing for his car keys.

As the jangling and clattering filled your senses, you were left with no other option than to question him. "What do you mean?"

He wedged his keys into the socket, twisting until the engine whirred to a start, overlapping the sound of his exasperation. "Is that how people view me? I'm just so...I'm so cute and innocent. I don't want that. I don't—I don't like that."

You finally saw it now. You saw the shell—the fragile, little shell that he hid behind all this time. It was so clear, so telling, so reminiscent of the timid boy that used to cling to you when his insecurities deluded him.

"It was nice to hear these types of compliments at first, but it feels demeaning now, as if...as if people are looking down at me and seeing some weak, geeky, innocent kid that doesn't know any better. Makes me feel...inferior."

God, you felt bad. You'd be a fool for not catching onto his self-esteem issues—everyone would be a fool for not catching onto his self-esteem issues, and yet no one did anything. It was there, lingering, but never long enough nor clear enough for a real conversation.

You turned away with a frown. "Then, what do you want to be seen as?"

He inhaled sharply, but his final breath is barely audible to you, fluttering out in a hesitant rhythm. His eyes were trained on the road as he squinted and pondered over his words.

This was the second time this week that you were wrapped up in a personal conversation in his car.

Remind yourself to be careful next time.

"I don't know. Just not what I am right now," he muttered. "I want to be confident and, and—"

For a quiet moment, you listened to Armin stumble over his words. And when he finally gulped, he continued in a weighty whisper as you leaned in.

"Not a nerd. Not a lame, good kid. I want to be appealing. I want to be seen in a confident light. In a—in a sexual light." He was almost gulping down his words, shy and uncertain and...embarrassed.

And you, on the other hand, felt your cheeks involuntarily heat up. There was nothing inherently dirty about his words; it was just that you wouldn't have guessed he wanted to be like that.

With a long sigh, you replied, "I understand you, Armin. Um, I've known you felt this way for a while."

You had to know. You were aware of his image. After all, you had seen him grow up, seen the way he talked to people, heard all the things people said about him. Being close to him, you were privy to a lot of his thoughts, a lot of the sides that most people didn't see.

Except for this one.

The romantic, sexual side of Armin. Gosh, you didn't think there was one. Not yet, at least. You needed to be the person who helped him build it.

Even as you pondered what'd he'd be like (Would he get a lot of attention? How would he talk to people?) your thoughts abandoned you and drifted back to that guileless, pure, pretty-boy face of his.

Maybe you were just like Hitch. Just like everyone else.

When you didn't hear him answer, you felt an aching jab of regret swell in your gut.

"Armin, how about…" You clasped your hands together, playing with your thumbs as you cast him a glance. “…we work on it right now?"

"Wh—"

The car suddenly swerved.

You yelped. It sent you rocking to the side, pressing you against the door momentarily and leaving you steadying yourself on the dashboard.

"Armin!"

"Wait, what?"

He sounded worried, voice faltering and cracking a pitch. He looked like he saw a ghost, wide, frantic eyes and mouth agape in a way that confused you as you sat dumbfounded.

"What was that?!" You snapped your head towards him.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry! It's just that—" He frowned nervously, apprehension washing over his face. "Work on what? W—what do you mean by that?"

You sent him a quizzical look, one that almost mimicked his, as he brought a nervous hand to scratch at his neck. "What do you mean?" You jabbed an accusing finger at him.

"Um, you said we should work on it. I thought you—thought you meant...me being seen in a sexual..." he stuttered, cutting himself off as shame seeped into his red cheeks. His mouth was pressed together, and his hand quickly came to card through his hair anxiously. "Oh, God. Never mind."

Oh my God. You felt your face heat up and flush, and you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or the dirty weight behind his words. He was next to you, shoulders tense and a flustered frown, and you instinctively averted your gaze to the window beside you.

"No, no! I mean, like, we can work on your confidence!" You shook your head. Gosh, how do you even recover from this? "You know, practice talking."

"Oh, oh. Yeah, um, we can do that. I'm so sorry," he rambled, a deep—almost shamefully deep—blush still dusting his cheekbones. Armin rolled his shoulders in what seemed like an attempt to relax, and you unconsciously mirrored him in turn.

"Okay, first, from what I saw with you and Hitch, make eye contact. It's just good to engage, and you'll look more confident. Simple, right?"

"Eye contact. Got it.”

"Let's practice, then." You humored him with a challenging stare. "Right now."

"Right now? But I'm driv—"

"Now."

His head immediately swiveled to you, and Armin briefly met your gaze, fear etched into his crinkled eyes, but the moment ran short-lived before the car swerved slightly. Again.

"Sorry! I got nervous." Armin's worry quickly dissipated into agitation. "I shouldn't have listened to you, Y/N,” he sighed.

You burst into laughter, releasing your hand from where it was clutching the door. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I just wanted to mess with you."

Armin huffed in regret, but his pressed lips soon succumbed to that familiar, genuine smile. You knew he was weak to your jokes.

"Okay, you ready for the next thing?" You looked at him for affirmation, and he gave you a cute nod. "Next, talk to people like you already know them, like you're already friends. I guess just...try to open up."

"How?"

"Hm, you can tell them about yourself. Depending on the situation, try filling the other person in on what just happened. Don't be afraid to joke around and be sarcastic. But, still be nice about it, you know, be you."

"Oh, okay okay." 

"Oh! And another little thing, mirroring is good. If someone asks you a question, ask it again, and then answer it. It's more of like a teasing thing."

As the familiar array of brick walls and wood paneling and colored roofs filled your field of vision, you realized you were in Armin's neighborhood now. It was peaceful here—it always had been—and you were suddenly reminiscing about your childhood weekends playing on Armin's front lawn.

"I'll use you and Hitch as an example. You'll be Hitch, and I'll be you, okay? Ask me if I got a haircut."

He chuckled and flashed you a curious look. "Okay. Did you get a haircut?"

"A haircut? Yeah, got it yesterday. Feels weird, I've never had my hair this short before."

Armin's head drooped in laughter—and maybe embarrassment, bringing a hand to push back his bangs as he lifted his head. "Wow, amazing acting, Y/N." The car lightly rocked when he turned into his house's driveway, and his eyes drifted to your expectant stare.

"What, you don't like my haircut?" Your lips curl into a frown, and you batted your eyelashes innocently, a likely awful attempt at pleading. You cocked your head to the side.

He briskly shook his head, stammering, "No! No, I think it's great! Wait I mean—" Armin caught himself, smiling and laughing bashfully to himself as he twisted his car keys from the engine. It whirred to a baritone stop. "This isn't even real." He laughed.

His laughter contaminated you, sweetly ringing through your ears. "See, those are the kind of jokes you should make. It sort of flusters the other person. But don't do the face I made. That was a joke."

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Armin grinned wryly. "Trust me, I won't."

Before unbuckling yours, you punch him lightly in the arm. "Real funny, Armin. I like this sarcastic side of you."

The two of you stumbled out of his car, and the snap of the trunk door, the click of the doorknob, and the ruffle of grocery bags all passed in a moment you barely remembered.

Nighttime approached, and this time, it fell much faster and much more pleasantly than yesterday.

With the hours ticking by, you found yourself snuggled next to Armin, arm-to-arm and thigh-to-thigh beneath the weight of soft blankets and the drone of the TV. Some typical, cheesy romance drama. It was your last resort really, and he insisted that you both watch something new.

Armin was mindlessly holding the bowl of chips, fingers laying loosely around the rim as the contents almost tipped over. But you didn’t fix it; instead, you reached out a hand and plucked a chip from the bowl. He looked disoriented, almost entranced—a little too entranced—by the television screen.

By now, his parents had been long asleep. It was just you two in the dim light of his living room.

Just the two of you.

God, you were a hypocrite.

After what felt like an hour of stillness, you finally broke the silence.

"That's going to be you and Annie one day." You pointed at the screen.

Armin stole a glance at your face with sleepy, lidded eyes, pupils shrinking and dilating in the change of light. He peered back at the TV. It was the main couple, who finally kiss after a million episodes. The scene was corny, fake even, and the actors barely looked like they were really kissing.

He snorted. "That's if I get her to even fall for me. I doubt I have what it takes." A sigh slipped from his lips.

"Armin, I don't know what you're so insecure about. I know you have what it takes. And you're good-looking, too, okay?" You ran a hand through his blonde locks. "Promise."

Armin sank into your touch, the weight of his head heavy in your palm. "Feels good when you say that," he murmured.

An unconscious, courteous smile rose to your lips. A beat of silence passed, long enough for you to zone back into the show.

"Y/N?"

You craned your neck to him. "Hm?"

He was already facing you, nose a hair's breadth away from yours. Something curious swam beneath his pupils, startlingly intense and illuminated by the blinding light of the television.

"Would you—" He pulled away tentatively, gulping hard, and then he was quickly back onto you, inching even closer. This time, you feel a ghost of a touch grazing the tip of your nose.

Here it was.

You knew it was coming. You knew he was going to ask you a question—something so personal, so heavy—that only seemed to unfurl when you and he were alone. And you could do nothing but push aside the growing anxiousness that gnawed at your thoughts.

A breath of nervousness, and he resumed.

"Would you ever help me...physically?"

It came out in a hushed, uncertain whisper. His breath swept over your lips, a feeling that made you realize how intimate this was—how you two were so, so close.

You felt your eyebrows raise, because of the short distance from your lips, the way he gulped—the way you gulped, you were starting to think this might lead to something else. He only inched closer.

"What—" you stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not really experienced in that—in that, you know, that kinda stuff." His eyes, bright and blue, slowly dragged down to your lips, then back up instantly. There was a new fear in his pupils, like he wasn't supposed to do that. "And—and I don't want to seem inexperienced in front of Annie."

At this point, you averted your gaze, but you didn't move. No, you wouldn't dare.

"Y—yeah," you breathed. "I would."

His face lit up, so subtle that you only caught it because you were this close to him. And it was warm—it was warm, his hand that was gently and carefully sliding onto your thigh. He looked so pure, so friendly. If friends even do this. 

"Really?"

You didn't even realize you had said yes. Your mind was clouded, teetering a fine line between hazy and even hazier. Your heart palpitated against your chest.

His lips ghosted over yours. No, even closer than that. Your lips were just scarcely pressed against each other, almost like the drama scene you’d just watched. 

It was going to happen, and you'd willingly let it happen. You closed your eyes.

And then you heard something buzzing.

Your eyes snapped open, and your gaze landed on the caller ID displayed on Armin’s phone, the brightness of its screen harsh against the darkness of the room.

A call from Eren.

No fucking way.

You reeled back in a daze, fingertips tingling with the aftershock of nervousness. You gripped the blanket with your other hand until it numbed the sensation, hoping it would ground you from what just happened.

Or what almost happened.

And Eren just called. How ironic.

Armin was a little ways off from you, cursing lowly under his breath as he accepted the call. But you sat there. You didn’t listen; their words filled your ears like cotton.

Armin shifted farther from you, head leaning into his phone. The blanket slipped down a little, and a chill ran up your spine and a wave of goosebumps hit you. Goosebumps that you swore had already been there from before. 

Was this it? Was this the practice he was referring to in the car? 

No, no, definitely not—you knew he meant much more. 

If you learned something today it was that one, you'd gotten a good scope of how he was with a girl, and two, you'd been a breath away from kissing.

From kissing. You almost kissed Armin Arlert, your best friend that you promised to help.

You pursed your lips.

Y—yeah. I would.

You couldn't go back on your word now.

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I tried to get back in touch with a friend who said he didn't want to talk to me anymore?

For a few years this guy was the closest friend I'd ever had. He moved to the city I lived in to study. We drifted apart slightly when I moved away, but stayed very close. I thought (and he claimed) that he told me everything, until at one point I found out from my family that he was dropping out of his degree and going back home due to a series of conflicts (with several disconnected people, including with my family, which was a conflict completely unrelated to me - he knew them separately from knowing me. I won't share the details of the argument for privacy reasons - I get that that might make it harder to judge but if I gave details someone who knows me irl might be able to guess and I'm a little paranoid about that. What I will say is that none of the conflicts were about anything extremely serious, and from an external perspective seem more like a buildup of pressure/unhappiness from him than anyone's fault). I was shocked he hadn't told me anything about this. He confirmed pretty much everything I'd heard when I asked him, and said he wanted us to stay friends as long as I didn't talk to the rest of my family about him or vice versa, but after the conversation where he said this, we didn't speak for months. After those months I reached out to him to return something I'd borrowed and he said that I didn't need to, and also that he'd prefer if I didn't keep talking to him because he associated me with a bad part of his life that he wanted to completely cut out all associations with. I was upset that he'd apparently changed his mind about us staying friends without saying anything, but accepted the decision. This was about three years ago, but I keep circling back to it. I've never made a friend as close again and really miss him. I've heard from other people that he's been doing well since, and it was a long time ago, so I imagine the negative emotional associations he has with me must have faded somewhat. I don't claim to have been a perfect friend but I'm pretty sure I wasn't a factor in the situation that caused all this since I wasn't even there at the time and no one reported that I'd been a factor. I keep wanting to message him to ask how things are now and, while I would accept us continuing to not be friends, I would like some closure on why he changed his mind about it without saying anything and whether there's anything he blames me for that he didn't tell me about. I know this would go against his request to not message him again, but the friendship ended so abruptly and confusingly that I have a hard time accepting it, and it's hard for me to imagine that his desire not to talk to me because of me being connected by association to a situation I had no participation in could last this long. If I tried to message him and he said he still didn't want to talk, I would definitely accept it this time. Would I be an asshole for sending the message?

What are these acronyms?

[whatavery]

Ordained Defiance Ch. 1

Finally, after weeks of buildup, finally I can start posting this very special story. Of all the characters in Lackadaisy, I really wanted to create some Abelard content, because I love him.

So what better way to do so than to write a little fanfiction featuring him, his family and my OC? A slow-burn story set in the small town of Defiance, Missouri...

For the first chapter, I present you with an image of my new OC alongside Abelard!

This lovely piece here was drawn by the amazing @mergestucs1!

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With the sweeping, green hills, the freshly sprouting leaves on the trees and the mostly clear, blue sky, Defiance was beautiful in spring. The air was getting warmer, but the breeze still had a sharpness to it whenever it graced Abelard’s face. It was a Thursday morning like any other as he made his way into town on foot, the apricot-furred cat enjoying the spring weather. Abelard's shoes dug into the dirt road that led the way through the small town that was Defiance. Granted, it really wasn't much of a town (it was closer to a village, if anything) given how small it was, and how much distance there was between the homes here.

The lean reverend took long, fast strides, walking with purpose. His morning strolls generally took him all over Defiance. He started at home and took the scenic route out to Defiance General, going through the small community and finally ending by the church.

He'd left the store just minutes prior, having stopped by the outskirts of town to see the shop owner. It was usually his first stop these days. Most days Mr. Weaver was up and working early, despite his age. Abelard always did make sure to purchase something when he visited, often in the form of cigarettes or other small items, usually something edible. Sometimes he brought home bigger items such as potatoes and the like.

And Abelard would, of course, gladly take on Mr. Weaver in a round of chess when time allowed it. Reverend Arbogast usually wasn't one to turn down an opportunity to spend time with the locals. It was part of his daily routine, making sure to visit with members of their little community. Though he didn’t personally visit each and every inhabitant of the small town, he made sure to at least greet them whenever possible, whether by the church or around town.

The man running Defiance General was one of the few that Abelard regularly visited personally. As reverend, Abelard saw it as part of his job to maintain a good relationship with said community; it was what the reverend before him had done. And it was what he’d taught Abelard; it was any reverend’s job to spread the word of the Lord and maintain good relations to those who believed, and even those who didn’t. After all, it was how a man of faith might help others see the light.

And as village minister Abelard didn’t just do services in the church on Sundays. Of course, that was part of the job; he took care to preach to his fellow man, woman and child. Though it had been a while since the last time, he had also done confessions and he’d heard quite a number of things. But as was his sworn duty, he’d never disclosed this to anyone; it was for him, the Lord and the sinner to know.

He’d been doing this job for decades at this point, and everyone in Defiance, and the nearby townships, that was part of his congregation, knew him. He'd established a good trust and good relations with the community, but it had taken time.

The township of Defiance primarily consisted of a small collection of farm buildings and barns around a main road that stretched through the small town. Defiance General was the primary place to do shopping for those who didn’t wish to travel further away by car, where they had more options. St. Louis was about forty miles away and Abelard himself hadn't made the trip there in quite some time. He was content in this small town where he'd grown up.

The town itself had a few things of note, despite its small size. For one, there was a local mechanic, though it wasn’t really a proper business, just a farmer who knew how to handle cars and other machinery. It wasn't so unusual to see him taking a look at someone’s vehicle, just as he was today. The farm house he lived in with his family was one of the larger ones on the side of the road that Abelard walked on. The barn door was open and the tuxedo cat could be seen fiddling with the engine of one of his neighbors’ cars.

As Abelard passed, he was spotted by the mechanic, who wore messy overalls over his clothes. He waved to Abelard as he passed. “Good morning, Father Arbogast. How do you do?”

“I’m quite well, thank you,” the lean cat called back in a proper tone. Abelard waved back as well, and offered him the slightest of smiles. Abelard was clad in all black from top to toe; black shoes, black pants, black jacket, black hat. The only article of clothing Abelard wore that wasn't black was his white button-up shirt under his jacket. “I hope you are as well.”

Though not a man who smiled much, nor a man to whom smiling came naturally, Abelard still did his best to be personable with the locals. At least for the most part. That wasn't to say he was all-smiles around them all the time, far from it. Father Arbogast, as he was most often called, had quite a reputation for being a man not to cross. It wasn't often, but he’d had to tell local children off more than a few times, using the colorful language he had become rather infamous for. And for the most part, it worked. He’d even had to tell off their parents on occasion.

Children as well as their parents knew to respect him and that was how Abelard liked things to work. Abelard was never one to shy away from doing such things if someone were to do or say something morally apprehensive.

Abelard didn’t linger around too much as he continued down the road.

The houses around the main road were generally large, quaint farm houses, many of them quite old with a fair bit of distance between each one. Defiance had never had a large population. Abelard knew they currently didn’t even amount to a hundred. The entire community could fit inside the church during services, even despite how small the church was. In the open area of Defiance, they had a few small businesses, such as a post office, an inn and a carpenter who also did metalwork on occasion. There was also a single bookshop and of course, further away there was a train station with its depot.

The businesses were mainly being run out of people’s homes, further adding to the feeling of a small, tight-knit community amongst the locals.

The area all around was wide and open with small groves and forested area nearby fencing in the majority of Defiance. The rolling hills and fields all around offered space for farmland, like the cornfields near Abelard's home.

The cornfields had gone from being harvested for food to also being harvested for more unsavory reasons in recent years. He'd been there for it all, as the changing political landscape of America had ushered in changes to his life. Not just his life either; Abelard also knew the unspoken truth that farmers both in Defiance, as well as all over the country, were doing the very same thing.

Abelard had spent most of his life in Defiance, as had many of its inhabitants. He'd traveled to visit nearby towns and cities, but home was always here. For better and for worse. But the small town of Defiance needed him. The Lord’s work was never finished until the day of reckoning and Abelard intended on continuing to spread the word of the Lord till his last breath.

He knew that there was no such thing as a one-man army when it came to his job. Abelard wasn't entirely alone; he spread the Lord’s word, he preached to warn of sins and temptations in the hopes that his congregation would help spread the same message. It was the point of preaching at all to begin with, to spread the word of the Lord, to help enlighten and to save as many souls as he could.

Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil… That part of the Lord’s Prayer had taken on a new significance to Abelard just a few short years ago. The nation-wide prohibition on alcohol had changed so much for so many people, again for better and for worse.

For Abelard? To him the very idea of stripping away a source of temptation in such a way was an affront. It had never been something that sat right with him; Abelard knew so many who saw it as removing the very option of giving in to sin from their lives, but Abelard privately saw it as a disruption to the natural order of things.

If anything, it seemed to have inadvertently added a whole new caliber of trappings into the lives of many. Abelard knew as much, being an initially reluctant participant in the illicit alcohol business.

But alas, here he was; illegal liquor had paid for much of the maintenance around the church and the town. Abelard knew that the cursed liquid would go on to add temptation back into the realm of the living – of the souls who would eventually need saving. Abelard knew that the very allure of the illicit only made sin all the sweeter to the ones who chose to give in to it.

But in the end, he knew that the truly good people would make the right choices, even with temptation in their lives. God would forgive sins, and although Abelard too would do his part to make sure people would not be led into the many pitfalls in life, he knew these complexities to be a necessary evil to separate the righteous from the wicked.

But Abelard kept these views to himself and a very select few close to him.

Passing more homes on his way, Abelard spotted more people who were getting their days started; a woman looking after the small garden around their front-porch where her small children were playing; a young couple leaving their driveway together in a car. Once more Abelard offered waves on his way, even if the children seemed rather frightened of him. He didn’t mind, of course. There was a fine line between fear and respect, and Abelard hoped they would learn to walk that line well.

If nothing else, Abelard hoped the younger generations would be given the chance to grow up with all of life’s complexities; the good, the bad and the tempting, all ever-present. Their parents (and he to some extent) would need to arm them to face the many trappings of life, and never stray from the righteous path. Whether they'd succeed or not was ultimately in their own hands.

All he could do was hope for the best… And hope that they may never get involved in unsavory business like his family.

Being in the liquor business had proven to have more downsides than upsides to Abelard. He resisted the urge to spit on the ground, to curse the names of those he'd had to deal with, as he continued on his way. Lackadaisy, Marigold, they were both the same to him; bands of immoral, cutthroat criminal that needed him and his kin for liquor and nothing else.

Though Abelard had no qualms with partaking in the making and smuggling of the liquor, dealing with others in the business had been less than pleasant. All the trouble that had come with it… It had cost him an organ player as well. Little Defiance had been the scene of some gruesome acts of violence, which Abelard still found unsettling to think about.

And that was despite all he'd seen and heard in his fifty-two years on this Earth.

Leaving the main residential area, Abelard passed the single inn that the town had. It was a small, family-owned place, a decently popular location that Abelard had visited many times. It was a two-story farm house where the family lived on the upper floor and the inn itself was located down below. It was one of the popular places for members of Abelard's congregation to end up after service on Sundays.

After passing the road that would take him towards the Arbogast Funeral Home, Abelard made his way past a tree line and out to another open area. The wide, open space was fenced in by trees from all sides, and the nearest farm houses could look right up to the white church with its single tower and tall spire that pointed straight to the Heavens. It was a relatively new church,; Abelard recalled in his youth that his parents had remembered the time when it was still newly constructed. Since it had been finished, it had been the church his family would visit for services every Sunday morning, and eventually the one that he himself would be the reverend of.

It wasn’t large and grand, but it was beautiful. All-white exterior, the church had two small steps leading up to the two tall doors out front with one short, wide transom above it. Further above the window as part of the tower was a clock, a relatively new installation. On either side of the large doors was a window, each larger than the one above the door, with a grid-like frame holding many small panes of glass. Each side of the church had four similar windows lining the walls, always making sure plenty of light could shine inside. The dark roof was angled upwards, the front merging into the small tower. The tower itself wasn’t that much taller than the roof, a small platform housing a thin, eight-sided spire reached higher than the roof, ending up in a sharp point.

There was always something to be done around the church, always something new to worry about, surprisingly so for such a small town. The illicit, ill-gained money helped keep the church in pristine order, and while they were currently out of a steady organ player, Abelard had other things to worry about. The groundskeeper was looking to retire. He was old and he had been looking after the grounds since before Abelard became the village minister. Just looking for a new groundskeeper would be a a mild challenge in the small community. Just something new for Abelard to figure out in the near future. Hopefully, the current groundskeeper would stick around long enough to find a replacement, so they wouldn’t leave the grounds unattended.

As a brisk morning breeze ruffled his facial fur, Abelard arrived by the entrance to the church grounds. The church was right by a crossroad; corn fields to one side, open stretch of grassland with graves on the other. The cemetery had expanded since the church’s founding, of course. Being framed in by the farmland, there was only so much space that could be used for graves; further away more grave sites had since been established.

No one was around at this time of day and as Abelard made it up the small steps to the large doors, he removed his hat and stepped into the Lord’s House.

It wasn't a very spacious interior, being a small church, but the space available had been optimally used. Stepping onto the wooden floor, Abelard walked up the aisle by himself. On each side of him were pews that could house the entirety of Defiance’s population during services, and there was even room for more people from neighboring townships. And in part owing to the small size of the church, Abelard had mastered utilizing the building’s acoustics to let his voice carry from the altar to the very back of the church, for all to hear.

Behind the last pew on the right side of the church, a small spiral staircase led up to a small landing above the entrance. This was where the organ was located, overlooking the small church’s interior. Abelard admittedly didn’t spend much time up there, nor did anyone else these days. The landing was close to the ceiling, which was painted blue like the sky outside, but even a man as tall as Abelard could comfortably stand up there without bumping his head on the ceiling.

Abelard made a mental note to attempt to send for a potential organ player in the nearby townships. He might even have to send for someone living further away, such as over in St. Louis…

The wooden pews that stood in rows on either side of the aisle were painted white, like the walls surrounding them. There were two windows up ahead flanking the altar, right across from each of the windows on either side of the door. Perfectly symmetrical. Along with the four windows on each of the church’s longer sides, plenty of light always poured in through these in the daytime hours. The same went for the circular stained glass window up above the altar close to the rounded ceiling. And of course, once it was dark, the multiple bronze candelabras on the walls and the large ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling in front of the altar would help keep the building illuminated.

Abelard stopped before the altar, right below the chandelier and closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the peace and quiet that the church offered him at times like this. The tall, lean cat had a white podium off to his left, where he would stand to preach and speak during services, facing the congregation.

Leaving the altar, Abelard slowly made his way back outside again, casting a glance out at the woods in the distance that served as the natural fence for this part of Defiance. Leaves were sprouting from the branches and the grass all around was starting to look as green as could be, it was a beautiful sight indeed.

The dirt road leading to the left from Abelard's vantage point led up towards where a small part of the cemetery was located. Further away along the road that ran along the side of the church was the Arbogast Funeral Home. It hadn't always been a funeral home, as it was these days; it had also been Abelard's childhood home where he’d grown up. He’d inherited the place from his parents and now it was also where he conducted his other ventures, including more unholy business.

Glancing up the path towards the cemetery, Abelard put his hat back on. The nearby funeral home would prepare the dead for burial, the church would hold a funeral service and the dead would be buried in the nearby cemetery. It truly was an efficient, albeit morbid, little system.

Abelard’s own parents laid buried there as well, as did other past inhabitants of Defiance and the nearby area. Growing up so close to not only the church, but also the cemetery had made Abelard’s skin crawl as a young boy, but these days the thought didn’t bother him at all.

The area outside and around the church was beautifully maintained, the grass kept short, the nearby trees kept healthy and the paths kept clear and clean. The morning sun’s rays casting a brilliant light over the trees’ fresh leaves, and the blades of grass, only added to the place’s natural beauty.

It was going to be a tall order to find someone new who cared about looking after the grounds this much. But Abelard had no doubt in his mind that he’d find the right person for the job, as was his responsibility. Odds were someone in town would be willing to do it – it would be easier and more efficient to not have to call in someone from out of town. Abelard knew he shouldn’t keep putting it off.

After enjoying a bit of time to himself, Abelard let out a content sigh. But he knew he ought to go about his business once more.

Turning back towards the church, however, Abelard spotted a single figure lingering by the white brick wall to the left of the church doors. He squinted slightly. He didn’t recognize the stranger at a glance, in part due to them facing away from him, apparently glancing out over the cornfields nearby.

The stranger turned their head as Abelard got closer, and already Abelard didn’t get the best first impression of them, noticing the way they were leaning on the church wall. They were practically lounging, like the church was their personal property.

“Ah, hello… Reverend Arbogast is it?” The stranger sounded uncertain as he spoke in a surprisingly soft voice. The Turkish Angora stood just a couple inches shorter than Abelard, his fur a grayish off-white color all over. His ears were particularly fluffy, though his fur overall was short, yet fuzzy. He had bangs reaching down to his eyebrows and the tips of his ears had white tufts on them. Very unusual.

Behind him he had a particularly fluffy tail that drooped ever so slightly. He wore a dark gray sweater with a thick, folded collar and a pair of blue denim pants. The right knee of his pants was torn open, his white fur showing through.

“Yes, how can I help you?” Abelard asked, his blue eyes taking in the stranger before him. Abelard's tone was polite, but slightly stiff. He didn’t recognize him, and yet there was something familiar about him at the same time. Abelard guessed he was likely from out of town – he made it a point to know everyone in Defiance, after all.

The stranger left the wall and approached Abelard, his fluffy tail fur swaying in the wind. Eyes met, sky blue and minty green, and Abelard noticed the younger cat had a face with soft, rounded, almost slightly… feminine features. The stranger held out his white-furred hand. “Well… I was just looking around a bit. I haven't seen this place in a long time…”

“You’ve been here before?” Abelard asked in surprise as they shook hands briefly. He squinted slightly at the white cat. Again, he got the sense that they’d met before…

“Oh, I lived here a decade ago, before I- Well, I moved out a long time ago.” The stranger’s stumbling didn’t go unnoticed by Abelard, but he was more so intrigued, though perhaps a touch suspicious as well…

Abelard still fixed the stranger with some amount of dislike, which based on the look on the younger man’s face didn’t go unnoticed. “Hmmm, I don’t recognize you… I know everyone in Defiance. What’s your name, young man?”

“My name’s Cainan – Cainan… Wirth.” Once more Abelard couldn’t help but feel as though something was wrong. The stranger seemed hesitant to give his name, which only made Abelard all the more suspicious of him. However, his name did stir something in Abelard – that sense of familiarity.

“Wirth? With an ‘i’?” Cainan nodded at this, though he didn’t meet Abelard's eyes when he did. “I see… Well, I might have known your parents in that case. Harold and Gabriela Wirth, correct?”

Abelard could see Cainan's face tightening at this, but the younger cat nodded. “Yup, them’s the ones. I was planning on visiting them after I’m done here, actually.”

At this Abelard raised an eyebrow as their eyes finally met again. He wasn't sure what Cainan's situation was, but this was… curious. For a number of reasons. The least of which being: “Well, they moved away a few years ago, if I’m not mistaken. They have not called Defiance home for a while.”

Cainan blinked up at Abelard with those pale green eyes. “… Oh.”

Was that disappointment Abelard heard in his voice? Or was it relief? Abelard genuinely couldn’t tell. The older reverend frowned down at the white cat. “You didn’t know…?”

The younger cat didn’t answer right away. Abelard could tell he was thinking hard about what to say. What was he up to exactly? He hadn't immediately struck Abelard as a troublemaker, though the way he hung around outside a church did seem suspicious. Abelard cast a glance over Cainan's shoulder towards the area beside the white building, which seemed to be quite untouched. When he glanced back at Cainan, the younger cat seemed ready to speak.

“Well, to tell you the truth, Reverend, no, I didn’t realize they'd moved. You know where to?” he asked. Again, Abelard found it curious how he spoke with the tone of someone just asking for the time; not with the tone of someone urgently needing to know the whereabouts of their parents.

“Hmmm, well, I don’t recall, I’m afraid,” Abelard told him calmly, though he watched Cainan closely, his gaze fixated upon the younger cat to wait for a reaction. Abelard had his suspicions, but he wanted to see just how Cainan might react to this information. To his surprise, the younger cat barely seemed to react at all – he just nodded slowly.

“Ah that’s alright. Guess I’ll try and ask around town,” was the response Abelard got, a surprisingly casual response. Now he was certain something wasn't right here.

“Were you hoping to run into them here?” The longer he spent in Cainan's company, the more Abelard could start to see some family resemblance. While he couldn’t say he'd been close with the Wirths, he still partially remembered what they looked like. He could see aspects of both Cainan's parents as he remembered them, when he gazed upon the younger cat before him.

“I suppose, yeah,” Cainan replied, his tone carrying that same casual carelessness as he spoke. Cainan seemed to hesitate for a moment, clearly thinking about… Honestly Abelard wasn't sure what was going through the young stranger’s mind. “I suppose I really just did come looking for you.”

“I guessed as much,” Abelard admitted, nodding slightly as he crossed his arms. The way Cainan had greeted him had indeed made it seem like he’d been waiting for him. Whatever this young cat could possibly want from him, Abelard didn’t know, but he was willing to hear him out. “So once more I ask you, how can I help you, child?”

Cainan’s left ear gave a small flick, possibly out of annoyance, though his facial expression didn’t show any signs of it. Abelard didn’t think calling him a child was unfair; he was young, clearly, though Abelard didn’t know quite how young. Perhaps he was older than his youthful face made him seem. “Well, I decided to return to town and, well, I’d like to do some work while I’m here. I’d like to… stick around for a li’l while.”

This was certainly a surprise to be sure. It wasn't at all what Abelard had expected of the young stranger, the reverend frowning slightly. He sighed. “Hmmm… And why didn’t you simply head into town and ask around? And why weren't you just honest from the beginning, young man?”

“I’m sorry, well, I figured this way was easier – I heard you were the village minister, so I figured… Actually, maybe this was a dumb idea.” Cainan suddenly seemed to change his mind mid-sentence. The younger cat shook his head and made to leave. “Sorry to waste your time, I should just drive-”

“Now hold it just a minute…!” Abelard put a hand on Cainan's shoulder to stop him in his tracks, gripping him firmly with his slender fingers. Cainan turned to look at up him, apparently surprised, his white eyebrows raised. “Slow down and explain yourself. I can’t figure out where to put you, if I don’t know where you came from.”

“So, you will help me…?” the Turkish Angora asked hopefully, his ears perking up immediately. Abelard let go of Cainan's shoulder and stared at him in disbelief. Had he been hoping for this kind of reaction…?

“I asked you to explain yourself. We shall see if we can find a solution to your predicament once I know everything… And I do mean everything.” Abelard had a feeling Cainan just might be a troublemaker, but of a different sort than the kind he had encountered before. He gestured towards the church with some apprehension. “We can step inside and talk, if you'd please.”

Cainan turned towards the church with an equal amount of apprehension of his own. He bit his lower lip and seemed to consider this for quite a little while. He awkwardly hovered around where he stood, though he didn’t step towards the church. “Uh… maybe we could talk out here? Or we could go for a walk? It was a long drive here, I’d like to just stretch my legs a little bit.”

Abelard thought it curious that he'd mentioned a long car ride, seeing as there wasn't a car around to be seen nearby. He looked at the younger cat, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“Oh, I drove into town, but I walked here,” the white cat hastily added, apparently not ignorant to the doubt written all over Abelard's face. The white cat offered a would-be innocent smile, but given the hasty way Cainan had offered up a rather flimsy explanation, it didn’t make Abelard trust him any more. “And besides… I haven't really been in Defiance for years. You could show me around… Please…?”

Abelard scowled at the shorter cat, crossing his arms again. Cainan continued looking at him with that would-be innocent smile of his, but Abelard saw right through it. Whatever he was playing at, Abelard wasn't going to let him win. He knew for sure he didn’t want to participate in his little games. But if he wanted to stick around and work in the town he grew up in… Abelard supposed it wasn’t the worst thing to want, even if he was being deceptive about it. Still, something wasn't right about Cainan…

“Very well, we can walk together,” Abelard finally agreed, though he still scowled at the younger cat. Cainan on the other hand seemed perfectly pleased with this outcome. It indeed seemed like this was the outcome the younger man had desired.

As the two of them left the church grounds and walked up to where the two roads outside the church crossed, Abelard couldn’t help but feel like this was all an elaborate rouse. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Cainan was trying to manipulate him in some way. His intentions sounded innocent enough on paper, but the way he went about everything didn’t sit right with Abelard. “Now, young Mr. Wirth-”

“Ugh, no… Just call Cainan… uhm… please. Reverend.”

“Well, Cainan… If you wish for me to… potentially assist you with your plight, I must ask you a few things. And I ask that you return the favor by answering my questions honestly.” Abelard turned his blue-eyed gaze upon the other and fixated him with a scrutinizing look. “Do I have your word?”

“Of course, I’ll be… honest.” The hesitation made Abelard scoff and offer Cainan a side-eye as the two walked down the dirt road together. “No, sorry, I mean it. I’ll be honest – I swear.”

Abelard still scowled, but he ultimately nodded, breaking eye contact to look ahead. The two walked along the road that ran parallel to the church’s front door. They moved in silence for a few seconds as Abelard gathered his thoughts. He still wasn't at all sure what to make of Cainan. He didn’t appear very trustworthy; the way he spoke, his closed off body language from the way he slouched and the way he shrugged so often. Abelard very much felt that the answers he got from the white cat would prove whether he was to be trusted or not.

“So, tell me: when did you move away? And how come your parents didn’t contact you to let you know that they'd moved themselves?” Abelard decided to go for two big questions back to back. When he looked over to Cainan on his left, the younger cat did indeed seem taken aback by the questions. Abelard simply hoped he'd honor his promise and tell him the truth.

“Ah… Well, those are very good questions…” Cainan replied hesitantly, looking away at the cornfield they walked past. Abelard could tell he was stalling to answer, and he was starting to feel rather annoyed with Cainan already. Though the scowl on his face didn’t go away, Abelard calmed himself the best he could, and just waited. “Well, to answer the first one, I left town when I was… I think fourteen. Thirteen? Around that time at least.”

“Really now? And how come you decided to leave Defiance then?” Abelard wondered aloud, and he couldn’t help but privately wonder if Cainan had run away. It seemed unusual to travel away alone at such a young age. But all the same it seemed so unlikely; from what Abelard remembered of the Wirth family, they were a respectable sort, a good family with good values. They were people of faith and everyone in town seemed to like and admire them.

At least if Abelard's memory served him correctly…

“Oh, I needed a change of scenery.” Once more, Cainan appeared so casual. He stuck his hands into his pants pockets, looking completely unbothered. He still slouched a bit, whereas Abelard took proper strides, back as straight as a board. “Small towns like this are nice, but I wanted to see more of what the world had to offer.”

Abelard had to admit, the younger cat’s answer had surprised him. Assuming it was the truth, he couldn’t help but find it almost admirable to want to experience things like that at such a young age. Perhaps that was how his parents had raised him?

Of course, being out in the world meant temptation. How old was Cainan now? Abelard wasn't sure, but if he left about ten years ago, perhaps… Ten years was a long time… Who knew, maybe Cainan was older than he seemed at a glance. “And where did the road take you then?”

“Oh, here… there… all over the place.” Cainan offered up another casual shrug, Abelard feeling a twinge of annoyance shooting through him at the sight. “I started going from town to town. I traveled down south for a bit, then over east to St. Louis for a while. Never really out of state, though.”

“And now you’ve returned home.” Cainan glanced on over at Abelard in a manner that told Abelard all he needed to know. The look told him far more than the young cat likely meant for it to; he didn’t like the idea of referring to Defiance as ‘home’. Although he said nothing, it was written all over the younger cat’s face. “And what did you do while you were away exactly? I take it you must have done some kind of work to get by, have you not?”

Cainan nodded as they approached the treeline that bordered the fields near the church. Past the treeline there would be yet more farmland with more houses and more of what Defiance had to offer. “I did a couple different things. Factory work, courier work, personal driver, everything in-between, really.”

It was of course a very vague list, but Abelard supposed if he truly was that versatile and had gotten a lot of experiences in his time away from Defiance, he might just fit in after all. It shouldn’t be too hard to find something for him to do at least; Abelard was sure he (or at least the locals) might be able to find a niche for the Turkish Angora to occupy. But of course, that was all up to the community and how well he got himself reintegrated with them.

Defiance was a small, small town, but there should be room enough for one more – it might even help that he grew up there. Abelard wasn't sure if anyone would remember the white cat, but perhaps if they did, that might ease the transition.

As the two of them reached and passed the treeline, they also reached a more densely populated area. This was of course relatively speaking as the buildings scattered here still had a considerable amount of distance between them. Cainan glanced around with considerably more interest than he’d shown up until that point, his green eyes taking everything in. “Ah yeah, I do remember this place… a little. It hasn't changed that much from what I remember…”

“Suppose there’s not too much of a point in showing you around then. Hmmm, let’s see… If you left some ten years ago, I suppose you may not have seen that we have a bookstore now, have you?” Abelard asked as they approached the nearest building. He didn’t remember exactly when the bookstore had been opened, but he was fairly sure it must have been after Cainan left home.

“Oh, I don’t think so, no. I might have to stop by later,” the younger cat said. Abelard thought it might be the first time Cainan said something genuine. At the very least it seemed more genuine than anything else he had said up until that point.

Out here, there was more open grassland, less of it dedicated to farmland, more of it just simple grassy, green hills that rolled along the beautiful landscape. While there was distance between the homes here, they were closer in proximity than some the farms around the church. Cainan looked around curiously as the two of them continued along the dirt road. “Ah, I recognize some of the buildings.”

“So, where are you staying exactly? I take it you’re not staying in your parents’ old home. Are you renting a room at the inn?” Abelard inquired as they neared the very same inn on their stroll. Although it was one of the larger buildings in town, they only had two rooms they rented out, seeing as Defiance didn’t see many visitors, usually. It had a seating area inside for guests to sit and dine as well.

“Oh, no, I’m not. I’ve already got a bed with my name on it,” Cainan replied vaguely. As the two of them passed the inn and approached other houses, a few people took notice of the strange duo.

Abelard would nod in greeting to them, but he could tell people were curious. “And where might that be? If you’re planning on working here, I think we ought to make sure you don’t have to commute back and forth…”

“Ah. Well, I’m staying on over in Cottleville, it’s not too far.” Abelard watched Cainan closely, trying to see if he was being honest. He had a difficult time with this young, white cat; he was easy to read at times, yet other times, such as now, Abelard hadn't the faintest idea what he was thinking. His face was neutral, blank like a fresh new canvas, not showing a single discerning emotion.

“I see. I suppose that isn't too bad as far as distance is concerned,” Abelard reluctantly agreed as they continued on their way. He fell silent for a moment, the older cat needing a moment to think things through. They passed by the post office on their way.

It was another business that had had its start in someone’s home, albeit a house considerably smaller than most of the others. A single-story house where the very front had been converted into the post office where letters were sent and received daily.

Abelard privately thought that if anyone had kept in touch with the Wirths, Cainan may be able to get their new address and send for them… if that was even something he wanted at all. Abelard had gotten the distinct feeling that perhaps there was some unpleasant history between Cainan and his parents.

“So, say if you were to stay here, what work would you be willing to do?” Abelard finally asked after a brief of silence. He fixated the white cat with a scrutinizing stare once more. He supposed this too might reveal a bit about Cainan's current situation, as well as his character.

“Oh, anything and everything,” the young cat said almost lazily. “I did do food service for a while, but I don’t know if the inn would need to hire any help. I don’t know what else there would be around here. But I suppose I’ll just have to find out.”

Anything and everything was a very wide spectrum, and Abelard wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. It could mean one of two things to Abelard; either Cainan truly was incredibly versatile and not at all picky; or he was desperate. Abelard supposed that regardless, it shouldn’t be too hard to find something for him to do.

“I really ain’t too fuzzy about it. Maybe I’ll just stick around for a few days and see what happens.” Cainan cast an inquisitive glance back over his shoulder towards the post office. It was one of the first buildings one would encounter when entering Defiance from the direction they were going. “Hmmm…”

“What is it?” Abelard looked towards the building as well, then looked back at Cainan. He raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just considering my options,” the younger cat replied with a shrug. Cainan pulled his hands out of his pockets and cracked his knuckles rather loudly, before resuming his slouching posture. “So, hmmm… anything else you want to know about me?”

Abelard could tell Cainan was hesitant, and odds were he was only asking to be polite; it was clear to Abelard that Cainan was being secretive on purpose. Whatever it was, the younger cat did indeed seem to hide something, though perhaps he just simply didn’t enjoy sharing. Abelard supposed he couldn’t blame him there.

“So, if you’re staying somewhere over in Cottleville, are you a permanent resident there? Or what is your living situation? I’m trying my best to understand here…” Abelard had a feeling he knew the answer, but he needed to be sure. That was assuming Cainan chose to answer truthfully, of course.

“I’m… more or less homeless at the moment,” Cainan admitted, looking up at Abelard. Their eyes locked again and Cainan just gave a small smile when he saw the look on Abelard's face. “It’s alright, I’m managing just fine for now.”

Abelard watched the younger cat for a moment as they continued on their way. He wasn't so sure; being a young man without a job and a home didn’t seem like he was managing. He supposed if he had money saved up that was one thing, but he also didn’t know for sure. Abelard's eyes drifted down to the torn knee of Cainan's denim pants. That seemed like something he could and would have fixed if he’d had the funds for it.

Although Abelard didn’t want to give Cainan too much just yet (in case he was the type to take an arm, when offered a hand) he couldn’t help but feel as though he ought to do something for him. As untrustworthy as he’d been acting up until this point, Abelard thought that perhaps he was making light of his own situation to make it seem less severe. Perhaps a coping mechanism of some kind.

Nevertheless, the two of them continued along the road. They didn’t speak too much outside of Abelard explaining which buildings were from after Cainan had left town, which seemed to be a good number of them. Even with Defiance’s small population, there ought to be quite a few new faces among them now, at least for Cainan who had been gone for so long.

The two had made it all the way to the road sign that would first greet those arriving in Defiance, at which point they turned back. They’d ended up further from the residential area and closer to Defiance General.

The post office was the first building of significance they reached on their way back. A decently sized building with just one floor, a quite scenic one given the open field behind it. Abelard knew a local artist had once painted a beautiful piece featuring the post office and its backdrop. It was, in fact, iconic to the residents.

Glancing through the main window as they passed, Abelard offered a wave to the local postman, Mr. Lang, who was working inside. The gray tabby offered a wave back, though he cast a curious glance at Cainan, who seemed to be glancing the complete opposite way. He almost seemed to willfully try to ignore the post office’s existence.

“Would you like to go inside? Perhaps we can ask if there’s work to be done in the post office.” Cainan turned towards Abelard again and looked apprehensive at best.

“Oh, uh… Yeah, we can head inside,” the younger cat replied, speaking with a similarly apprehensive tone, his eyes not meeting Abelard's. Abelard raised an eyebrow curiously. For someone who said they’d take on anything and everything, this was a curious reaction, when the very prospect of a potential job was brought up.

What are we going to do with you? Abelard privately wondered as he stepped up to the post office’s door, looking sideways at the younger cat. Abelard knew next to nothing about him at this point, maybe Cainan truly was doing better than he appeared to be.

He was an enigma, this one…

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Day 4 - Hiding an Injury

Hmmm this one was a toss-up, but I'm happy with this!

Oops forgot my pings! @ailesswhumptober and @whumperofworlds

TWs: burns, blood, torn skin, overworking

Mariano wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't died on the way to work that morning. He just couldn't be positive, because it felt like he'd been pulled into hell. There had been another nightmare, another case of his magic sparking during the night.

Bastian had helped him get his stomach bandaged this time so he was at least rested, but that didn't change the fact that he still had a twelve hour shift to get through. No one else could fill in to close, so he just decided to suck it up. It didn't make it more fun, though, especially since he didn't want any of the teenagers to realize he'd been injured. They had enough to worry about without him adding to it.

The kids were more than happy to do the reaching and bendingsince they got to tease him about getting old. Abby was sincerely excited to learn how to clean the ice maker, too. She happily hopped up onto the stepladder, scraping at the ice buildup like it had personally wronged her.

Really, Mariano was feeling decent until Abby went on lunch.

A small rush filed in, with impatient business people lining up to try the new seasonal drink. Jason had thought that a gingerbread mocha would be popular as winter started to roll in, and he'd proved right. People were seeing the little sign they'd made and deciding to give it a shot--and others were hearing the pleasantly surprised reactions when the people ahead of them tried it.

Mariano had already gone through the first gingerbread crumb container and the backup crumb container. He felt a weight settle into his stomach as he scooped up the last bits inside for the latest mocha. "I'll be right back," He said apologetically as the next person stepped up and ordered the umpteenth gingerbread mocha of the hour. "Just getting more from the back."

His side throbbed as he walked to the storeroom and reached up above his head. Mariano swallowed down a whine as a chill shot through his gut. Abby was right there at the tiny table with only one earbud in. She needed to finish taking her break in peace.

"Need any help, gramps?" She called casually, seeming to realize what he was doing. "Don't throw out your back."

He laughed, managing to keep his voice from sounding too strained as the bandages rubbed against the raw skin of his burn. "No, no, you're on break. I just need more gingerbread." The crumb was almost in reach as he started inching the package forward with his fingertips. He needed to have another talk with them about not putting heavy things up so high.

"Good god, they're like sharks for that stuff." She snorted. He didn't hear her getting up. "Weird holiday sharks. They don't want blood, they want cinnamon and ginger."

"Maybe we need to tell Jason to have worse ideas in pre-calculus--" Mariano's flat joke was cut off by two things happening at once. He felt warmth start to drip down his stomach, blooming into the bandage as the burn tore open, and he felt his hold on the box slip.

He cursed as the box's weight dropped onto his face and sent the world exploding into stars and the smell of blood. He staggered as the thunk of the box hitting the floor filled the tiny area and made Abby yelp in surprise.

As Mariano brought his hand up to cup his nose, he felt his shoulder hit the wall. Abby's shoes squeaked around the corner, and he heard her gasp. "Oh--shit." She hurried closer. "Oh that's--that's a lot of blood."

Mariano blinked hard, shaking his head. "It's--it's alright. It's okay. Noses bleed a lot." He sounded like he had the worst cold of his life.

"No--Mariano, your stomach is like, gushing blood." The tremble in Abby's voice made him look down. As she'd said, blood was spreading along the lower half of his sweater, right over where he'd burned himself the night before.

"...Ah." He said, settling into a familiar calm. "Abby, I'm sorry. Could you get the first aid kit from the bathroom and bring it to the office? I can handle this, it looks much worse than it is."

"What's going on?" She demanded, not moving just yet. She was getting louder, and sounding more nervous. "What's happening? Do I need to call emergency services?"

"I have a burn on my stomach, and I think I just stretched the skin too far." Mariano said, meeting her eye and keeping his voice level. "It's not an emergency. I've dealt with this before. Take a deep breath."

Abby nodded, taking a deep breath in and holding it. She let it go after a few seconds, seeming calmer when Mariano nodded again, encouragingly at her. "Okay. First aid kit, office, then I'll go finish up the rush." She darted towards the door before he could stop her. "And you can't tell me no! I'll just finish my break later!"

Mariano couldn't help feeling warm about her being so insistent. He took a seat in the peeling computer chair, promised Abby that she could have whatever pastry she wanted in exchange for the first aid kit when she came back with it, and took a deep breath. Abby had the customers handled, and as he peeled his bloody sweater from his stomach, he knew he had himself handled.

[darklight-owl]

Owl Reviews Stuff She Just Finished: Ghost Trick

I cannot BELIEVE i hadn't heard of this game before the remake got announced. But at the same time I'm kinda grateful for that, because that meant that I got to play the game (nearly) blind!

But I disgress, man. What a good game. It's something that starts off as pretty small and charming but later when the story progresses it unravels into something way more ambitious and dramatic.

Speaking of first impressions, the gameplay mechanics immediately caught my eye. Preventing deaths by moving around objects and butterfly-effecting the world around you is such a fun idea and executed really well. It made something as simple as moving from point a to point b a mini puzzle and each area was unique enough that it never got old.

But let's be real no one plays Ghost Trick for the gameplay we're all here for the PLOT. Being a pretty big Ace Attorney fan I was very interested in seeing what Shu Takumi had in store for this and it did NOT dissappoint. But while AA's focus is on the characters rather than the story, Ghost Trick's focus is on the story rather than the characters.

This isn't a bad thing, after all the story is extremely compelling, but it explains why it took me a longer time to warm up to the cast than in some other games I've played. They're all pretty compelling and memorable with their own distinct personalities, but a lot of the time their development took a back seat to leave room for the larger mystery (the two exceptions being [NAME REDACTED] and Sissel), with the majority of the cast remaining static throughout the game. But for a story as full of intrigue as this it worked fairly well, and each of them had something that made them stand out which made their interactions really fun.

As mentioned before the story's pacing and buildup is immaculate. Being a mystery game it relies heavily on plot twists and its way of dangling the answers right in front of your nose and revealing them at just the right moment makes everything that much more exciting. The best mystery stories are not just ones that can surprise you but can make you feel like you should have seen that coming, and Ghost Trick definitely falls into that category. All of the signs were right there, but the game used the information that the audience took for granted to make the most jaw-dropping twists you'll ever see. New information can make your idea of what happened change at the drop of a hat which I thought was a great way to keep the player engaged and determined to find out what really happened.

But that's enough of me rambling. Buy Ghost Trick. It's on Steam. I give it 9 Ghosts out of 10 Tricks 🥳

Anyway if y'all excuse me I need to go pick up my diploma:

[fancyratvanity]

You don't know how it happened. You're not even sure what happened. Not really. Neither do the police- they'd brought you in for being there, mostly.

You'd gone on a walk, just like you'd done dozens of times before. Nothing had been particularly different. Not really. Well. Maybe you were feeling a bit more on edge than the night before. And then you'd been more than the night before that. It's been a gradual buildup, maybe. You thought the walks were helping, and maybe they were. But maybe not as much as you'd hoped.

You'd gone a new path, confident your shiny new phone's gps would guide you back once you'd decided it was time to go back; to return to your ever unconscious sire, back where you both were guests. Where you were so sure you'd soon overstay your welcome, if you hadn't already. Velkin hadn't signed up for this. No one had, really, but it had meant to be about a week. Now it's been what, three times that? You've nowhere else to go, and Velkin has been more than accommodating and understanding, but deep down...

You're worried. Worried about so much. Everything's going so fast. Streets, panther, new life, new things to learn, new responsibilities, new friends, new problems, friends hurt, friends upset, taran, blood, robin, bloem, beetlejuice- it's only been what, a month? Maybe two? Maybe it's been a long time coming.

...Your walk. Normal, relaxing, but.. Was it really? A quieter evening, overcast and not as warm as usual. Less people out. You'd wound up in a park. Not unusual. You opted to sit under a tree. You'd sat there for a long time.. You don't.. Remember what you'd been thinking about; been looking at. It was darker when you'd heard voices. A couple, maybe. Hard to remember. Hard to tell... After. They'd asked if you were alright. That's all.

Then you saw red. Did you see red? Did you see anything? Did you see it all? Block it out? Whatever the case, you definitely saw red after. All over your hands, your nice new clothes, the ground, the couple. You'd been breathing a bit hard, your throat hurt too. You'd just stared at the two, barely recognizable now. Did you do this? There's no way. Shaky hands wiped themselves off in the grass best you could, and you'd pulled out your phone. Who do you even contact? Taran, out cold- out of the question. Velkin? You're not his responsibility, and he's been doing so much already, despite his opinion on keeping ghouls. No. Bj? She was out somewhere, wasn't she? Robbie has his own problems right now. You can't even see Duncan outside his house.

Fingers smeared blood across your screen as you scrolled through discord contacts, and you'd paused on one as you saw lights flashing in the distance, heard the sirens. Someone must have heard something, called about it. Maybe someone saw. You couldn't remember. A message to Quinn, while you can. "I think I've done something. Do you know the nearest station to [----]? I think the police are coming. I don't know what to do."

Before you knew it, you'd been picked up, driven to a station, and placed in a room with a table and some chairs. Not cuffed, surprisingly. Then again, there'd been no weapons at the scene, and you'd been so out of it, and the two- they weren't sure what to make of you yet, maybe. You're sitting in there, in silence, staring at your phone. They hadn't taken anything from you. You hope to hear from Quinn soon, preferably before they come in to talk to you.

You don't know what to tell them.

[makethosenarratorsfight]

UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; SIDE C

Charles Kinbote Propaganda:

World’s least reliable poetry critic. Weirdly obsessed with this poet John Shade and then publishes a commentary on his final work and wildly misinterprets lines to make it seem like him and Shade were bffs.

Ok so basically this poet John Shade just died. Before he died he (nearly, by one line) finished this big poem about death and his life. Kinbote considers himself Shade's good friend (he's not- Shade describes Kinbote as "some neighbour" in the poem at one point) and decides to posthumously publish the poem with his annotations to explain it since Shade is dead and can't explain it. It's pretty clear from the start start that Kinbote is completely bullshitting however he also claims some pretty crazy stuff. He believes the whole poem is about this country called Zembla, which Kinbote apparantly told Shade a lot about before he died. Zembla isn't real. Kinbote uses the annotations as an excuse to infodump about Zemblan lore. He believes he is the king of Zembla and is pretty clearly delusional (although possibly aware of that? at the end he says that after writing the annotations he might end up in a madhouse). Also Kinbote might just be someone Shade made up after faking his own death to make a big statement. It's a little unclear. Sorry if this made no sense lol.

Nana Daiba Propaganda:

Okay, I have heard literally nobody else say she is an unreliable narrator and I'm not sure myself, but I need to get something out of watching that recap movie so hear me out. Rondo Rondo Rondo, as well as a recap, is Nana's perspective on the series as a whole, and I'm very convinced that the way it's told isn't just because they needed things to be shorter. A lot more emphasis is given to some scenes than others, and when this happens, a brand new scene plays out, putting equal emphasis on it, and all of these brand new scenes have one thing in common, beyond the revue component; Nana knows. She knows every detail shown, but doesn't acknowledge details which aren't, which makes sense for a recap movie, but the way she interacts with the plot is so distinctly different from the anime itself that I like to think she's leaving things out. We don't get a significant amount of the buildup to the revues, because most of that is interpersonal stuff which Nana simply was not involved in. But we do get a massive chunk of episode 7, the episode which, outside of the recap, is still from Nana's pov. Junna and Mahiru's respective revues with Karen and Futaba and Kaoruko's revue with each other are shown very briefly and divided up into sections which Nana is shown acting out with the Giraffe immediately after, but large amounts of emphasis are put on Nana's two revues, even if they're both kind of mixed together (which I think makes sense. Hikari and Karen were the two girls who brought about the end of her repeat performances, and she wouldn't have lost if Hikari hadn't arrived and Karen hadn't gotten the drive to stand on stage from her. Of course she'd kind of mix those two losses together. Though rip to the scenes in between because even though it makes sense that a lot of the stuff there would not matter to a recap movie or Nana I still think it's funny that Nana's whole big conversation with Junna where she reveals the time loops just does not exist to Nana or the movie. So sorry Junna). Certain small, emotional scenes ARE shown, like Junna and Nana's talk at the end of ep 9, but considering that Nana was involved in that and the immediate next scene is a new one where Nana discusses how Junna essentially saved her, yeah, that specific scene would be in her head. There's a lot of things which Nana wouldn't know, but since this movie is confirmed to be Nana's pov I do think that it could be both where the recap angle kind of takes over and Nana's general perception of Karen and Hikari's whole childhood friend thing. Also, since everything following this is very much recap-centric, aside from the additional scenes, which are 100% shown to be from Nana's pov, I need to address the scenes following the revues again, just because I think it's funny that, within Nana's pov, she gets to act out the previous revues in an even more unreliable way. I love this girl and I'm not sure how much Rondo Rondo Rondo counts as her being unreliable but I love her for whatever she had going on in this movie anyways.

[oldguy56-world]

Thank Heaven for Little Girls

We hosted a shower for one of our daughters on the weekend. It also included a reveal which is something new to this millennia and a first time attendance by me. After a buildup (but I at least got to eat before it happened) a balloon and two small cannons went off showering the hall with pink confetti. I am hoping that both the doctor and Party City got it right because I am not going to sweep up another mess like that again any time soon. I can only imagine how bad the mess would be if it were twins and it was a boy and a girl.

Back to the good news: we have a granddaughter on the way. This will give us one of each (through two different daughters) so any future babies coming our way will not be something different unless the aforementioned twins pop up. I do have some of those in the family.

It was a gala affair where I heard some of the stupidest questions possible.

Are you happy it is a girl (What idiot would say no?)

Now that you know it is a girl will you try for a boy next time? (Let this one be born first please. I do not think any expectant mother has 'next time' on her mind.)

Is there more shrimp? (Get away from me now)

There were people there that I hadn't seen since the couple got married five years ago so I had to do the old 'long time no see' without calling them by name. For the record I did know my wife's name, the daughters and son-in law and a couple of other random people so all in all I did pretty good.

(Side note. I am allergic to coconut and apparently everyone knows it. I asked what was in the one dessert I was eyeing up and a chorus of 'COCONUT' echoed in the hall. One of the women put me in a hammerlock and led me to a bowl of salad)

Here are some things you should know about having daughters.

They will not pee in your face when you change them. I am positive baby boys do it on purpose just because they can.

I told my son-in-law that having a daughter or daughters will help you lose your hair. He looked at my own bald pate and I saw a flash of terror in his eyes.

Since we found out a baby was on the way my wife always seems to steer me into children's wear so she could look at dresses and the possibility there would be a little girl to buy some for. I have an appointment with my financial advisor tomorrow to look at moving some money around to accommodate the upcoming expected expenditures.

I know this little girl will own my ass and there is nothing I can do about it. They live across the street from us so I expect to see her quite a lot.

I will have to buy my son-in-law a sword or Bowie knife. Not to use but they are very effective if you just happen to be sharpening one of them when a boy comes by to pick her up for their first date. You do not want to go the gun route in case your wife decides to test it on you.

This might sound sexist but I believe many girls are born with a shopping gene. This is something you cannot fight so go with it or move to a cabin in the woods with no internet.

That's all I will say about that.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: If you are going to teach your children anything make sure it includes respect, manners and politeness. It will set them apart from their peers.

[killingbill]

Pride in Promises

Summary: William Afton both finishes, and shows his wife the first Bonnie the Bunny suit. The first design he created using his original drawings, and created entirely himself.

Words:587 archiveofourown link

It's my first attempt at writing Will Afton! My girlfriend and I are working on a timeline of sorts. I wanted to write one of William's proudest moments… Or, at least the start. I know it's not much of .. a story, or anything. But! It's here. Short, and there's no attempt to write Mrs. Afton yet. But uh, there we go.

If you listened hard enough, with a hand to your ear - (or perhaps not so carefully)… You could hear his chuckles throughout Fredbear's Family Diner.

First they're sparse, but slowly grow deeper… The next more quick, and lighthearted. Almost as if he'd heard a joke that was only becoming more amusing over time. Hilarity seeping into his bones, and causing him to throw his head back in delight. His exposed teeth curving in an illusionists smile.

William's eyes press shut, with lithe digits curling over the bronze of his name-plate. Swivel chair rolling in a spin, when Mr. Afton pushes himself from the desk to give himself momentum. Beginning to move in a circular trajectory towards the door in preparation for his wife's arrival.

William hears her heels clicking down the hall soon enough. Yes, right on queue isn't she? He knew she would come, eventually. She always did, when Will was laughing away in his office. It was never a dull moment, when amusement tickled him. The small business owner slumping back into his chair, with both heels planted upon the dirty floor. Toes extended upward towards the dim lighting, above a costume designer's glorified broom closet.

Afton relaxes. One could even go so far as to call his posture limp, whilst he looks up at the ceiling. Four limbs hang from the seat, whilst William continues to chuckle. Softly, or… almost distantly.. One, single tear sliding down the man's cheek.

Ah, there she is.. The buildup of sound not-so-lost upon his ears, when she continued her approach. Echoing sound igniting the devious excitement in his giddy smile, within little more than a fraction of a second.

His wife creaks open the door. It immediately slams against a lock, threaded by chain through a brass slot.

"-- Shit -" Afton makes a soft huff of a laugh. "A moment, love."

Fredbear is already built, with a performer hired. At least until such time as he can get himself more acquainted with whatever that chicken fucker has going on, over at Chica's Party World. Latest in technology and innovation.. His ass.

Last time he checked, that bastard Emily had nicked one of his designs.

Regardless, William begins to bunch up as he gives his wife an almost sneering grin. Easily confused for, (and truly is), a pleased smirk of smug pleasure. He hadn't allowed her to see his creation. Just designs and schematics. Pen to paper, really. But, now? He is finally finished.

Heels brace against the floor, which is far from his vision. But it'll do, for now. Checkered anew in his future location. His tomb.. Yet not so much as what sits slumped and smiling wide under lamps above his desk. Paws stitched into the full body costume, that hang over the faux wood.

Once having fiddled with the lock, Will bows as he swings open his door. Forearm extended, and leg outward.

"Look what I made." His low, British accent eventually inquires from beneath a veil of greying hair.

Eventually, his head tilts upward. Expression proud, whilst stepping aside. His gangling legs moving forth to the suit, to which he promptly tugs at the thick, purple bow-tie around the bunny's neck.

His grey eyes admire it whilst he speaks.

"He's finally finished. My original design -" Afton turns around. Winding up just outside the bunny's legs, before leaning back against the surface. Crossing his ankles, and extending his limbs to lean upon the workspace. He smirks, with lips crooked. "Bit better than i imagined, don't you think?"

[acourtofthought]

Because she wouldn’t have returned it if Rhys hadn’t interfered. It wasn’t an organic end. Don’t you also think if SJM was going to have Elain “kick his ass to the curb” she would have done it in the actual book, so all the readers could see what was going on. But no, she continued to build up their romance (while also sinking any hope of Elucien). Could she possibly just not want anything to do with Lucien? Have you considered that?

Some thoughts:

1. Elain returned the necklace not because Rhys interfered, but because Azriel told her “this was a mistake”. There were many things Azriel could’ve said, and is fully capable of having said especially considering he is spymaster, but he didn’t. Azriel is why the necklace was returned. A return which speaks volumes when we recognize Elain has never returned any of Lucien’s gifts, his jacket, or Grayson’s engagement ring.

2. SJM did not continue to build up E/riel romance after solstice-when the bonus takes place. What actually happened was Elain and Az never interacted again for the rest of the book. Additionally, no hopes of Elucien were sunk seeing as their current situation remained consistent—both uncomfortable, awkward and avoidant around each other and their bond.

Now, for an ounce of petty,

Could it possibly be that Elain might not want anything to do with Azriel? Have you considered that?

💖🧼

It's been soooo long! I hope you are well ❤️❤️❤️ EXACTLY what you said. Rhys hadn't really interfered all that much when he halted Az and I think people are forgetting that fact. Rhys called Azriel's name BUT, Az didn't know with certainty what Rhys was going to say. Which means Az, all on his own, chose to use the words, "this was a mistake." He, as a grown man, with what I would guess is a normal vocabulary, chose the specific words "this was a Mistake" all because Rhys stopped him from kissing Elain in that moment. He could have said, "Wait here a moment so we can talk. I just need to run somewhere quickly." He could have said, "Let's continue this later, I just remembered Lucien is upstairs." He could have said, "I just heard Rhys, can you excuse me for a moment?" Az, all on his own chose to tell Elain that she was a mistake. After her ex fiance basically tossed her away in the same manner. So yeah, our girl was a Boss and gave that gift back. Because even if Az came back now and explained to Elain what happened it would be something like, "Rhys told me I couldn't kiss you and I got mad because your sisters are with my brothers so maybe we should have been Mates even though I've never really thought of you beyond my sexual fantasies." And your second point is also On Point. There was no further buildup that excited for E/riel the rest of SF. The fizzled out like one of those little hand held sparklers on the forth of July.

[thefandomcassandra]

Champion (3/20): Scorching Out Thy Sovereignty

cham·pi·on — /ˈCHampēən/

(n) - a person who fights or argues for a cause or on behalf of someone else

(v) - support the cause of; defend

—

“I don’t want these powers. They’re too much.”

Reigen said he would bear any burden too big for Mob.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly when Mob realized something was off. It might have been when he fell asleep on the taxi ride back home after rescuing Ritsu and woke up only groggy. It might have been when he woke up the next day and managed to get through breakfast without bending a single spoon. It might have even been three days later, when he stood up in class and stumbled through a passage in English, queasy but lacking the usual overwhelming pressure that accompanied stress.

Regardless, it wasn't until Tome said something, that Mob really acknowledged that feeling out loud.

"Well someone looks happy!"

Mob glanced at his upperclassman. Despite having had to be hauled back to the club room by Onigawara, sweaty and panting but not out cold, he wasn't as worn as he might have been weeks ago. He tilted his head, rolling that thought around in his mind for a bit, before he responded back with a wheezing, "Oh? What do you mean?"

"I'm not one to gossip," Tome explained, the rest of the Telepathy Club rolling their eyes in disagreement, "but I've heard from some reliable sources that you've been more upbeat than normal and, if I may say so, I've never seen you smile quite as much as I've seen you smile today."

Behind Tome, Kijibayashi mouthed, "She's been watching you."

Ah. "Thank you for your concern." Judging by the exaggerated outrage on her face, Tome hadn't wanted that from him.

"Concern? Of course I'm concerned! You're the one person I know who can help me finally reach my goal!" There was something about Tome that reminded Mob of Reigen and that, in and of itself, was comforting. He snorted, soft, and she pointed a finger at him. "See?! I don't think I've ever managed to make you laugh in our many weeks of knowing one another! Something's changed about you, Mob, and I want to know what!"

Had it? Mob took a moment to think about what made today different than any other day before it. Mob took several moments to think about what made today different than any day before it. Mob got lost in thinking about what made today different than any day before it.

Maybe it was the fact that he was still refueling his psychic reserve tank, as Dimple had explained. Maybe having psychic powers lead to him being more repressed or perhaps made him physically a little more...worn? Was that the right term? Or would sensitive work better? Either way, he had already experienced what would normally be several dangerous stressors and he hadn't felt the usual tell-tale staticky fuzz of an emotional buildup.

It was nice, in its own way. Even if the lack of psychic energy left him feeling a little hollowed out and numb in places.

But that still wouldn't explain the leap from 'light' to 'happy'.

Read the Rest on AO3

[jackfromthefairytale]

No no go OFF kiran i wanna hear cause i'm also nosy and a very opinionated bitch

the most recent set of opinions i've got is about their current marketing strategy (or lack of) cus like. they've definitely got the money for some decent marketing and a social media campaign but they're doing nothing. which. is a strategy that hasn't exactly failed them before because they didn't do shit before just pretend went off, but that's a whole different story

take this ost album that just came out. v.a.n. banger song, banger music video, good idea getting poppy on the track etc. etc., and in terms of garnering attention they did those cryptic videos as a kind of "character introduction" and, in the days leading up, they had the guys deactivate their instagram accounts and it was this whole big thing (which, with the timing of it and three from sleep token taking a break due to doxxing was a little unfortunate but i digress) anyway. this all helped and v.a.n was a hit (maybe a slightly unpopular/controversial one, but it made numbers so. a hit)

then there was nothing. for the next month or so. then the drain got leaked and they did the tracklist announcement, which had a bit of fanfare but not much for one of the biggest bands in metalcore. and half of these collaborations were people that hadn't been heard of but hey it's something different, right?

then nothing for months. then they tell us they're cancelling the festival run due to noah's burnout, and a week later is when the album drops, and still there's nothing on the release side, no buildup no nothing. a couple social media posts/reposts from the collaborating artists and not much more from the band members themselves.

so. album drops. it's an experimental concept album, which most people didn't quite get since they were expecting a run-of-the-mill deluxe and not a 26 track release that had not a lot of relation to the previous album. there's a narrative that most people aren't clued in on because the average guy might be following the band on social media but isn't keeping track of every word uttered in the few interviews they do. to put it simply, there's a bit of confusion.

anything > human is the release day single, which i didn't actually know until i looked at their artist page and saw they put it out as a single but that was dropped at the same time as the rest of the album which kinda doesn't make sense and again, not much pzazz aside from using two lines from the verse as captions on instagram but it got it on playlists and on the charts

(which. the three singles all made the (us hard rock) charts, one hit the number 1 spot which is pretty good but other than that a tad underwhelming for a band who are considered to be one of the current biggest) (which also. poppy has a lot of fans and a lot of brand recognition, health are known in their vein of industrial metal and are professional shitposters and erra are known within their niche but have quite a different audience to bad omens and are generally a smaller band compared to poppy and health)

and maybe, maybe they did have some big marketing plan with music videos and just generally a lot more fanfare which got cancelled with noah not being well, but all of it being cancelled in favour of,, nothing? not even downsizing to a smaller social media campaign to get some eyes on them? the most they had were the visualisers (which are pretty cool, i'm not dunking on those) and whatever sumerian's social media guy was doing, which a lot of people block out anyway.

which bad omens are a big band. sumerian are a big-ish label. a concept-oriented album like this requires some level of concept to build off of that isn't contained in the four issues of comic books that the band wrote/published (and i think some people who read them said that they don't tie much into the ost anyway?) and they have a "creative director", who works in comics and worked on the comics and i just think there's a lot more they could have done to (a) clarify exactly what this release was supposed to be (b) highlight the artists they're collaborating with (c) put a bit more fun into it and (d) appeal to the nerds (like for example, how i managed to infodump about the comics and the concept behind the just pretend music video and got a friend so interested into the storyline that she went looking for live tickets and she doesn't even like much heavy music)

they have the resources/budget and some degree of personnel on the creative non-music side of things yet..?

it just seems really weird and lacklustre that they had just the visuals they commissioned and nothing else to put out on this side when release day came, because if you don't have a level of marketing strategy at this point in your career, is your album really ready to be put out?

(it is also kinda. iffy. how the only thing they've consistently been using their social media for is. merch drops left right and centre. which with the lack of anything else comes off as a slight cash grab (not a comment on merch prices, and i do get that it is the main way of making money as a touring band when not on tour) but maybe that's just me)

[quirkless-accident]

Oh, you havent heard?

Jazz-centric fanfic, pre-adoption. Moving in with a hero (stranger)

Jazz was smart. At least, she liked to think she was. Her grades certainly reflected that, anyhow.

So why did it take her so long to notice her brother was different?

At first she had brushed it off as normal, teenage weirdness. But he was physically colder. More closed off. He was keeping more and more secrets. That was normal for him to do to their parents, but to her? He had always been an open book with her. It hurt, to say the least.

She was always there to pick up the pieces. He was quirkless. Being bullied came with the territory. She had been the one to sit him down on the edge of the tub and patch him up with worried nagging, only to receive an eye roll in return.

Jazz had an empathy quirk. If she touched somebody, she could tell exactly what they were feeling, but she could decide when she wanted to use it. She learned at a young age that it was a huge breach of privacy to do that to people without their permission. So she never activated her quirk on Danny. Not intentionally anyway.

Not until the argument.

Mom and Dad were out of the house. Their precious portal hadn't worked. Danny was beat to hell, and Jazz was furious at the people who did it to him, and worried. Danny brushed her off for the millionth time, and she was stressed out because of that and school, and-

She had just wanted to help.

She had used her power when she had been patching him up, and the buildup of emotions had made her slip. The pain, the loneliness, the sheer worthlessness her brother felt...It was staggering. She had pulled back like he hurt her, an apology forming on her lips. her brother was smart, too, though. He knew what she had done in an instant.

They screamed at each other. Jazz apologized, but Danny was an emotional, abused twelve year old. It was only natural that her apology fell on deaf, angry ears.

He had stormed off. She hadn't followed. A door was slammed. That was normal, he was twelve. She thought it might have been the front door. Maybe he was just going on a walk to cool off.

But then the lights flickered. And there was a gut-wrenching wail coming from the basement.

Jazz was never one to run down the stairs, but if she could have she would have leapt all the way down.

What she found would haunt her for the rest of her life.

The portal was alive with power, casting the lab in an eerie, unearthly green glow. And then there was a body, sprawled out on the floor just outside of the portal. There was a faint trace of smoke lifting from the body. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted her nostrils.

He turned the body over onto his back, and couldn't help the cry of surprise, and the powerful tears that wracked her body almost immediately. Because even if his clothes were different and his hair was white, she'd be able to recognize her baby brother anywhere.

She knew him by the small scar on his lip from when he busted it by running into a tree on his bike. And by the one in his eyebrow from when he had jumped from a chair and busted his face against the edge of the counter. Of the pinched expression he was making, even in his unconscious state. He always had that expression when he came home from school.

She pressed her ear to his chest.

There was no heartbeat.

In the distance she could hear a pounding. Bang bang BANG on the door, but she couldn't bring herself to get up. Her little brother was gone. He was dead and he wouldn't even have come down here if it weren't for her. If she hadn't used her quirk on him he would still be-He would still be-

"What's going on down here?"

Jazz startled badly, head whipping over to the unfamiliar man. Her heart was beating against her ribcage, as if it had a personal mission to break every single rib.

"I-I don't know!" She cried. The tears were coming in full force now. Her body was shaking as she turned back to Danny. Even in death he couldn't be at peace. "We got into an argument and he came down here and-and-" She took in a shuddering breath. "The portal wasn't supposed to be working," she said in a moment of clarity.

The man, with long black hair and a black jumpsuit, looked between them and the portal. He came over and knelt beside her, handing him a card. A hero license. Eraserhead, it read. A pro hero.

He must have heard Danny's scream.

He looked Danny over, checking for a pulse. Even though he had just died, he was oddly cold. Usually bodies were warmer after they just died. Especially if they had been fried to death.

"What is this?" Eraserhead asked her. She glanced over to what he was talking about. He had Danny's left arm in his hands. But it didn't look like his arm. It had bright green electric-like patterns crisscrossing up his limb. It was bright and angry and raised.

"I-I don't know," she said. Eraserhead put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She couldn't stop herself from crying even harder.

Her parent's invention had killed her only brother.

But he was quirkless. Would they even care? They never seemed to care about anything else going on in his life. Would they even notice his absence?

Before she could jump further down that rabbit hole, she was being pulled behind Eraserhead. He was still on the floor with her, but his eyes were wide and focused on the body in front of them.

But the body was looking around wildly, his eyes full of fear.

Danny was alive.

He was alive.

Sheer relief washed over her like a wave crashing against the shore, and she lunged forward, scooping her brother up in her arms and holding him tightly.

"Wha-Jazz? Jazz, what happened?" He sounded worried, panicked. She only squeezed him tighter.

"What do you remember?" Eraserhead asked. Danny narrowed his eyes and shifted so Jazz was more behind him.

"Who are you?" He asked. His jaw was clenched and his grip on his sister tightened.

"He's a hero, Danny," Jazz said, pulling back. "He came when he heard you scream."

Eraserhead could tell he was not one to be lightly fooled, so he pulled out his license again and showed the boy. He looked between the card and him for a few moments before finally nodding.

"What do you remember?" Shouta asked again, looking over at the portal. Danny followed his gaze with a frown.

"Jazz and I got into an argument. I came down here to cool off. Mom and dad said the portal didn't work, and I...I was curious. So I walked inside. But I tripped..."

"And then?" Eraserhead asked. Danny just shrugged.

"I woke up on the floor with a homeless man standing over me."

Eraserhead huffed. he could feel a headache already forming.

"How do you feel, Danny?" Jazz was asking, looking over him in an oddly maternal manner. Danny shrugged and pulled at his shirt.

"I feel fine. A little cold, I guess, but otherwise I'm good. Why?"

Jazz bit her lip, and turned away. She seemed to be fighting herself, but Danny was patient when it came to his sister. He would give her the time to muster up her courage.

Eventually she did. She pulled out a little pocket mirror she used to adjust her makeup, and handed it to Danny. He popped it open and gasped.

"What...What am I?" He asked. He was starring at his reflection like he didn't recognize the person looking back at him. He pulled his white hair in front of his face and frowned. "What the fuck happened to me?"

Before any of them could start, however, the front door opened and the sound of their parents echoed throughout the house.

-------

The trial for custody had been quick and painless, mostly due to the fact that Eraserhead-Shouta, was a pro hero. The fact that his parents had been working on technically illegal person projects without proper lab safety also helped, but it wasn't enough to get them thrown in jail. Not even their cries about their son being possessed did anything.

The transition for Jazz was easy enough. She didn't have a lot of things she wanted to take with her, anyway. All a permanent reminder that she had come from a place like the Fenton household. She didn't like her parents, no matter how much they adored her. She didn't want to keep anything they gave her.

Danny, on the other hand, had quite a lot of stuff he wanted to take. Shouta and Hizashi, Shouta's husband, were helping him pack. Their parents had never gotten him a single gift. They bought some of his clothes and put food in front of him, but even that was being generous.

But that didn't mean Danny didn't have a lot. In fact, he had more than Jazz. Because as soon as Jazz was able to, she got a job to start saving up. She had gotten him a small army of model rockets and space posters for his birthday, and Christmas. Or if she just felt like it, because her brother was good and deserved it.

But she could tell the transition was still hard for him. It would be a new school, new friends. He had new powers, too, and could barely control them. Just an hour ago he got stuck halfway through the floor and Hizashi had to calm him down enough to get him to unstick himself. But in the couple of weeks he's had his powers, he's made a lot of progress. Baby steps, Jazz reminded him often.

The process for control was slow, but getting Danny to come out of his shell was even slower. Outside of training, or hanging out with Jazz, he didn't really talk a lot. Jazz had been careful not to activate her quirk again, but it was frustrating to watch him shut everybody out. Even her, to some extent. Anytime she showed any sign of worry he would clam up and tell her he was tired.

Jazz had expressed her frustration once to Shouta when they had gone grocery shopping. He just hummed with understanding while trying to decide between what breadcrumbs they would get.

"Well, it's only natural," Shouta had said. "Some people shut everybody out after a traumatic event. And up until recently, you're the only person he was able to rely on. It only makes sense he doesn't want you to worry about him or how his death affected him."

Right. His death. Because that's what he was, wasn't it? Sure, not all the way, but her brother had died. Had died because her parents were careless. Had died because Jazz didn't know how to keep her nose out of his business.

There was a quick, sharp pressure suddenly on her forehead. She looked up at Shouta, who was poking her. He gave her a tired smile.

"He needs time, Jazz," he said. "You're already doing everything you can by being there for him. So don't blame yourself, okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "Okay."

----

It had been three years since then. Jazz had moved out, but she still came over every weekend for family dinner, and took Danny out once a week for ice cream.

Being able to see her brother so carefree and light made her indescribably happy. She had never thought she'd ever be able to see him like this.

So yeah. His death had been a tragedy. But it made his life much more vibrant.

[quokkalatte]

[1:25 p.m]

Pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

Word Count: 1360 

Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, sort of car sex, degradation, unprotected sex, very slight breeding kink if you squint

-

In celebration of the ab reveal ^^

- - - -

His hand was warm against your thigh, gripping the fabric of your jeans tightly, massaging the flesh. You thought he was just trying to soothe you, after all it had been awhile since you had seen your brother, and he brought along his new wife. Jeongin, your ever angelic boyfriend, was polite and courteous when talking with your brother's family, smiling brightly and laughing at your brother's dumb jokes. 

So it was a bit of a shock when Jeongin's hand began to slide up towards the top of your jeans, toying with the metal button that fastened them. You swallowed thickly, glancing over at Jeongin, who's face remained serene as he listened to your brother's wife talk about her newest project for work. You bent your head, taking a bite of your lunch, trying not to focus on Jeongin slowly tugging the button open, and pulling the zipper, so agonizingly slow, so as not to rouse suspicion. 

"So Y/n, I heard you got into a little traffic accident last week, what happened?" Your brother said, eyes on you. You looked up at him, shrugging 

"It wasn't anything too bad, some teenage boy over-corrected himself and tapped my bumper." You reply, your breath hitching when Jeongin slid his hand past your jeans and your underwear, his middle finger prodding at your clit. The restraint of your clothing had his fingers flushed against you, so any minimal movement sparked a shock of pleasure. Your brother's wife frowned. 

"You sure that was all? You seem a bit jumpy at the memory." She notes. You gave her a mild smile, tensing when Jeongin slid his hand lower, stroking the outside of your folds, easily soaking them in your amounting wetness. 

"I'm fine, it was a bit jarring at the time. I think the boy was more scared than I was if anything" you say with a laugh, but it was cut short when Jeongin inserted a finger inside of you, crooking his finger to stroke your walls. Jeongin turned his head to you when you let out a gasp. 

"You okay baby? Feeling ill?" He asks, as if he didn't just insert another finger into your tight walls. Your cunt hugged his fingers, and your hips rutted ever so slightly against the palm of his hand, trying to gain any friction to stimulate your clit. 

"Im- Im fine. Just a cramp." You manage to say, and Jeongin smiles, a mischievous glint in his eye. Your brother and his wife didn't seem to notice the hidden evils behind Jeongin's stare, because they prompted him questions about his work schedule. 

You could barely hang onto the conversation, the words losing all meaning as Jeongin began to grind his palm against your clit, pressing down harder as his fingers moved with limited mobility inside of you. The angle he had his hand in, he couldn't reach your sweet spot, which was a whole other level of teasing. You internally wished that the lunch would be over, so that you could whisk Jeongin away to a secluded location and have him fuck you until you couldnt walk anymore.  

Right when you thought your climax might come, the stimulation from your clit giving you enough buildup, Jeongin's hand stilled, and he suddenly snaked his hand away from you as quickly as he had placed it there. You turned your head to him, eyes wide, almost blowing your cover, wanting  to know why he hadn't finished, but you were soon answered when the waiter approached your side of the table with the check. You swallowed, your cheeks tinted pink, and palms sweaty at your robbed orgasm. Jeongin merely thanked the waiter and bickered with your brother over the payment. 

As you said your goodbyes, promising to text your brother when you reached home safely, you were tightly wound. Your lower regions ached for Jeongin's touch, wishing for him to give you the orgasm you were robbed of. 

Your silent pleas were answered when you both walked to the car, and you were suddenly pressed against the door, Jeongin's mouth on yours in an instant. You kissed him back eagerly, your hands snaking into his hair, gripping onto it. Jeongin let out a hum of pleasure, moving from your mouth to your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses in his wake. 

"You're such an ass you know that" you pant, and he chuckles against your neck. 

"Don't act like you weren't begging for me to take you in that restaurant, in front of everyone." He said in your ear, and you let out a huff; which he laughed at.  "Instead, how about i finish what i started here?" 

"Right here? In the car?" You say, and Jeonjin shakes his hand, his hands coming to tug down your jeans, and you gasped when you realised his intent. "Jeongin we can't! someone could see!" 

"Why do you think I parked so far away? Under a tree?" He says, after he'd pooled your jeans and underwear down at your knees. He began to pull down his slacks. "Plus, I think you'd like it if we got caught, hmm?" He whispered in your ear, and you let out a whine as his fingers prodded your entrance. "Mmm you're so wet for me baby. I must have gotten you so worked up." 

"Jeongin please-" you cry out when he slipped a finger inside of you, reaching deeper than he had in the restaurant. 

"You're so tight baby. " he comments, slipping another finger inside of you. You grinded against his hand, begging for any friction he could give you, and Jeongin was just as eager to see you fall apart on his fingers. He gripped your waist with his unoccupied hand and hoisted you higher, your legs wrapping around his hips. With the new angle Jeongin was able to stroke your inner walls farther, prodding at your g spot. Short gasps and pants left your lips as you grinded against his hands. Pleas of  'dont stop' left your lips, and Jeongin lowered his head to your neck, sucking blooming purple marks in his wake. 

Jeongin sped up his pace, crooking his fingers in a way that made your breath hitch, your nails dug into his shoulders, your cunt spasming around his digits, your orgasm washing over you.

 Jeongin  pulled his fingers out of you, and he gripped your hips, slotting himself between them. "Think you could cum again for me baby?" He says, tugging  his underwear down, pulling out his hard cock. He jerked it a couple of times, smearing precum along the tip, before he finally slid inside of you. 

A groan of satisfaction left you, and. Jeongin began to rock his hips into you, lowering his head for another heated kiss. He thrusted into you, hips snapping at a fast pace. The feeling of his cock outshining his fingers. You let out small moans, trying to contain yourself so that you wouldn't get caught. 

"I know how loud you want to scream, how you want to let everyone know how good im fucking you. How much you begged to get taken even if it was in a parking lot where anyone could see. Such a little slut arent you?" Jeongin said, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips as he worked you both to your  highs. You moaned at his words, head falling back as you gave way to the pleasure. "Thats all you want though isnt it? To be stuffed full of my cock." 

"Jeongin!" You cried out, trying to meet his pace, grinding agsinst him to chase your orgasm, the hot coil in your abdomen tightening with every snap of his hips.

Jeongin began to rub his thumb against your clit, the final stimulation sending you over the edge and you came with a cry, rutting your hips against his. Jeongin gave a couple of sloppy thrusts before he came inside, spilling himself into you. Both your chests rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breaths. Jeongin looked down at you and grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Round two when we get home?"

[eurynome827]

I'm Coming Too

Post CA:WS Recovery!Bucky

I wrote this while writing prompts for my 2k Followers Challenge. Inspired by Hadestown - more proof that I see Bucky Barnes everywhere, even if he's Eurydice and I'm Orpheus singing a song to lead him out of the underworld.

I'd like to dedicate this to @nix-akimbo who heard Bucky in this song, @godofplumsandthunder who loves this show, and @jobean12-blog who, when I asked her to name one or two things that she associates with me as part of the poll for my challenge, answered "New beginnings and the buildup of love and hope" - I really don't know how I got so lucky. Thanks, Jo.

Lyrics from "Wait For Me" in italics - Hadestown written by Anais Mitchell. No Warnings but my blogs are 18+ spaces always.

The tall, silent man across the hall with the haunted eyes. You didn't know where he had come from. He'd been hurt, shying away from your offer of friendship at first like a bruised animal. You persevered, offering little gifts at his door and soft words, cultivating a safe haven. Sitting quietly together and letting him just breathe - and finally he allowed your hand in his, the leather of his glove covering what you knew was cold metal.

You loved him on his terms. Slow and safe.

"Bucky." He answered the question you hadn't had the nerve to ask.

"Stay with me, Bucky."

Danger creeping in, his eyes darting on the street. He evades your questions, reverts to his old ways. You're afraid - scared you will wake up one morning and he will be gone.

You can see it in his eyes even when he avoids your glance. You just hope he tells you first.

You'll have to take the long way down

Through the underground, under cover of night

Laying low, staying out of sight

There ain't no compass, brother, ain't no map

Just a telephone wire and the railroad track

You keep on walking and you don't look back

"I have to leave, it's not safe for you."

"I'll go with you!"

"You're not safe with me."

Wait for me, I'm coming

Wait, I'm coming with you

You bargain, and he agrees but your heart is cold. Rushing to pack a bag, it hammers a steady beat. Don't leave me - I'm coming - trust me.

You're on the lam, you're on the run

Don't give your name, you don't have one

And don't look no one in the eye

Bursting through the door, a sob escapes as you see his room empty. It can't end like this - it repeats in your head. This isn't how the story ends. You can still feel him in the air, and you know it hasn't been long since he left. Slamming the door and rushing down the stairs and out onto the street, you search.

Wait for me, I'm coming too

I'm coming too

"Wait!"

He hears you and turns. Waits. You rush up to him, out of breath, eyes rimmed with tears. "I'm coming too."

He's silent, staring at you. It's hard for him to speak, difficult to explain the storm in his head and you know that. You know he's worried and he doesn't know if he can keep you safe, you see it in his eyes. Taking his gloved hand, you pull on each finger, stripping the glove from the metal and curling your fingers around his.

"This is the only hand I want to hold."

A ghost of a smile on his lips, and he nods. Hand in hand, you start off together, down the road.