#yes I’ve experienced the horrors can it not be so obvious on my fucking HEAD AHHHHH

[zfedraws]

I have to rant bc I’m going insane I literally just turned 26 and my greys r out of control

[stephobrien]

I’m coming from my vent account because I don’t want to get found out as a Jew on my main. Please, please stop posting in the antisemitism tag. You’re clogging it up and taking away a safe space for Jews by trying to delegitimise Jew hatred. Now, I don’t know if you’re good faith or not, but I’m leaning on no. You keep on going onto posts about Jew hatred from Jews, saying what boils down to ‘wow! I’ve learned so much from this!’ and then you go back to posting inflammatory things again. I mean, you posted something from Caitlin Johnstone, I can’t believe that you give a single shit about Jews (or Ukrainians) after that

As for your most recent post on how poor you just can’t believe lying Jews when we talk about discrimination because you’re scared we’re deceiving you, you put in a comment ‘If I'd seen said Arab nations' governments massacring thousands of civilians, while painting every single criticism of said massacre as Islamophobic, yes, I would have’. This is… I don’t even know how to tackle this, do you genuinely not know all of the horrific shit so many of the Arab states have done? Qatar is known as one of the biggest countries of modern slavery. The Houthis in Yemen sex traffic Ethiopian women, and also reintroduced slavery into Yemen. Just look at the atrocities so many of these countries have committed against Shia Muslims! Is your brain mush, how can you say this when there is so, so much evidence of the horrors that these nations have committed?! And if you think these states graciously accept criticism of those horrors… you’re being ignorant on purpose. And it’s still not okay to say that you don’t believe an Arab when they talk about anti Arab racism that they’ve experienced, I think we can at least agree on that. So why’s it not the same for Jews?

For a more personal example to Jews, look up the Mizrachi expulsion. The Arab states violently expelled almost a million Jews from their countries ‘because Israel’, which they only care about because it ruined their dream of pan Arabism, not because of any solidarity with the Arabs in the mandate btw. My family was lucky, we came from Iran, which is not Arab, so the violence was coming from the people rather than the state itself. But I’ve had to heard accounts from people talking about how they watched their family get shot in the head while their homes were repossessed for no reason other than the fact they were Jews. Is that bad enough for you? Does it even make a dent in your image of the Arab states? Or is it okay because it happened to Jews?

I know I sound very angry in this, and that’s because I am very angry. And that anger is completely justified! My life, and the lives of almost every Jew on this disgusting website, have been beyond horrible for five months. The number of times I’ve had to read about a new Jew hating shooting or stabbing in the world is too many too count. And then, non Jews like you decide to play the ‘oops, I just caaaan’t believe those Jews about Jew hatred because they could be zionists!’ (Which are around eighty percent of the Jewish population, but I don’t think you’re ready for that conversation yet, it’s reserved for people who actually want to learn). All of us are so unimaginably angry. All of us are at our fucking breaking point, or we’ve completely snapped already! The people you have interacted with have been some of the kindest, most levelheaded people here, but you’d better not get used to it, because we’re all tired of this bullshit

Thank you for taking the time to call me out. Between you and the several other people who contacted me about this, I’ve come to realize that that post was a terrible mistake.

It was meant to be a vent post about people who deliberately blur the lines around what’s actually antisemitism, and about my lack of certainty about my own ability to independently assess the less obvious instances of that (which is clearly still very lacking, as the response to that post made clear to me).

But it apparently caught a lot of innocent Jews in the crossfire, making them feel unsafe, unheard, and delegitimized. That wasn’t the intention, but it was clearly the effect. I screwed up badly, and I’m sorry.

I admittedly don’t know all the details about the horrific shit Arab nations have done. I was aware of Iraq’s government mass murdering protesters, and Saudi Arabia’s horrifically sexist laws, but some of the info you shared in this post is stuff I hadn’t previously heard of.

As for why I mentioned false accusations of antisemitism specifically, it’s because that’s the one I’ve seen several times a day lately, sometimes in the form of stuff like telling people who protest child murder that “You just don’t like it when Jews defend themselves.”

That said, you and the other people who responded have made it clear to me that that focus was based on an overly narrow view on my part. I’ve been more active in pro-Palestine circles than in circles that focus on the other situations you mentioned, so naturally that resulted in me seeing more antisemitism accusations than accusations focused on groups that aren’t directly involved in that conflict. So that resulted in a less than balanced viewpoint.

While my vent post was meant to be about one specific phenomenon I’d personally seen a lot of, the fact that I didn’t mention similar behavior on the part of groups I hadn’t personally seen as much of that behavior from did result in it being unjustly targeted, in a way I didn’t intend but should’ve assessed better.

What happened to you and other Jews at the hands of Arab nations (and pretty much every nation) was absolutely not okay. The effect my post had on you and other Jews who saw it was not okay. The treatment you’ve endured on Tumblr is not okay. And I’m sorry for the pain I caused you.

You have every right to be angry at me. I won’t ask you to forgive me or trust me, because I know I earned your anger with that poorly thought out post. I shouldn’t have made my own insecurities and frustrations other people’s problem like that. I screwed up badly, and I’m sorry.

[wildgirlcinna]

FFXIVWRITE 2022 - Prompt #10: Channel

“So… using Void energy in my spells is negatively affecting my aetherial channels?”  A nervous shiver raced through Cinna’s body, followed by another heated wave of deep, aching need.  She’d felt drained, even more so than usual after a hunt, and so instead of tele’ing back to her new house, she’d sought out the lala woman who’d mentored her in black magery.  These new symptoms she’d been experiencing, so different from her Echo-related headaches, felt too personal to bring to Master E-Sumi and the conjurers.

“Unfortunately so,” Lalai replied to her.  “It’s happening very slowly, but it’s burning you, from the inside out.”

“But this heat is different.  There’s a hunger with it, that has nothing to do with food.”  Cinna felt her cheeks flush, remembering a bit of the extremely lewd dream she’d had the night before.

“Of course there is,” said Lalai with a knowing smile.  “That’s not just any Void energy you’re infused with – from my understanding, you fell through that Void portal and straight into the arms of a succubus. The effects of that particular type of Voidiness have been dormant until now, but I believe your encounter with the Roe woman activated it.  She must have been extra special!”

“...Oh.”  Cinna blinked a few times, and was not at all surprised to hear that voice ringing through her head again, this time with a quietly triumphant chuckle.  She hadn’t heard it again since her battle with Ifrit, and had begun to think it a product of her overactive imagination.  And of course, that imagination got straight to work on this new problem, arriving at the obvious solution in rapid time – since, paradoxically, the problem pointed to its own solution.  “I… I need to fuck, don’t I?  And often?  To fight the burning and renew my energy?”

“Exactly!” Lalai’s chuckle echoed that of the miqo’te’s strange headmate, a saucy twinkle in her eyes.

“And… and I’m guessing there’s no way to scrub all this lewd energy out of me…?  and do I even want to?  Somehow I doubt I could fight the other Void horrors without it.”

“Not if you prefer to be on this side of the Lifestream, and I would much rather have you here.  Who else would I discuss Ul’dah’s juicy gossip with?”

That brought her own giggle from Cinna’s lips.  “Yes, I agree,” she replied. “All that tea can’t sip itself.   So now, I just need to figure out where – who – to start with.”

“Don’t go to the Quicksand,” Lalai said quickly, raising her eyebrows in almost-mock horror.  “People there can be… a little much.  I’m sure any of your adventuring friends will be more than happy to help.  Just be careful, and remember to respect yourself and your partners.  Also, I’d recommend a visit to my friend Laryn; she’s a chirurgeon here in Ul’dah, and she specializes in helping sex workers.  You may not be taking gil for this – although if you do, I won’t judge – but you’ll probably be giving your body just as much of a workout.  I can send word to her now, so she’s aware of your unique situation. She has extensive experience in not only physical, but also aetherial issues.”

“Ah. Yes, I’ll go see her.”  Cinna rose from her chair on slightly trembling legs. It seemed her life had entered a strange new phase, one that seemed exciting and intimidating all at once.  She bent down to enclose her friend in a warm hug.  “Thank you, Lalai.  You continue to be amazing; I truly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Excellent!” Lalai returned Cinna’s hug, then stepped back to look into the miqo’te’s eyes.  “And it’s my pleasure.  I feel like before long you’ll be bringing me some gossip of your own!”

“A lady shouldn’t kiss & tell,” Cinna replied with a sneaky smile.  “But fortunately, I’ve never considered myself a proper lady!”  She trusted Lalai completely; anything she told the other black mage would remain in confidence.  “I already have someone in mind; I should go pay him a visit now.  I’ll tell you all about it later!”

[ladyyatexel]

I Went On A Manga Binge

So you don't have to

For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.

I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.

Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.

Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.

I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.

Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)

I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.

That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha

Ryou Bakura.

Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself

On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.

Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.

Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.

Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.

Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.

Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.

Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"

Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.

Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes

Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.

I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.

Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow

Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media

[authenticdesperation]

A Review of Every Single Episode of Inside No. 9 [1/2]

Disclaimer: my opinions are not definitive but they are bloody good. There may be spoilers so read at your own risk. This will probably have to be a two-parter for the sake of my sanity and your scrolling.  

Series 1

1. Sardines 

A killer way to kick off a series with an absolutely top notch cast. This episode probably wins the award for the episode I’ve spent the most time thinking about after watching, putting all the little things that went over my head at first into place. I love the set design in this episode as well with everything seeming delightfully old fashioned. 

2. A Quiet Night In

This episode is something of a masterclass in farce and it is a Bold Move to have the second episode of a new series almost completely free of dialogue. It’s dirty, it’s fully of silly slapstick and it’s a nice change of pace after the rather harrowing ending to the first episode. 

3. Tom and Gerri 

This is an episode I enjoyed more when I thought about it more. It beautifully shows the decline of Tom’s mental health (acted impeccably, lovely work from Reece) due to grief. Also it was quite nice to see Reece and Steve acting opposite each other more, they have great chemistry together and Steve as Migg is perfectly unsettling. 

4. Last Gasp

Now, I have to be honest with you: I do not exclusively have glowing praise for this episode. I enjoyed it far more after watching it more than once as I liked the humour of it. One of my favourite things was the video camera perspective at the start, as well as some lovely moments with the music. However, I’m not overly keen on the ending, I just found it slightly underwhelming. 

5. The Understudy

Back on the praise train kids! I am a big old Shakespeare nerd (as are Reece and Steve, apparently) and I studied Macbeth for my GCSEs so I was particularly excited when I watched it. I will also have to give a little nod to the directing of this episode, it was an absolute feast for the eyes. 

6. The Harrowing

Oh hell yes (no pun intended). I think this episode is a great one to cap off the first series, really demonstrating the versatility of Steve and Reece. Also, I’m a big horror fan and the entire atmosphere of it really appealed to me. Though I would say that the second I saw that house I would have run about fifteen miles in the opposite direction.

Series 2

1. La Couchette

This episode is very similar to Sardines in the sense that it feels rather claustrophobic, but this time it leans far more towards the comedy side of things rather than drama. Bonus points for Steve demonstrating his German skills. 

2. The 12 Days of Christine

Ah yes, the episode I’ve cried at every time I’ve watched it. This one is a strong demonstration of how to wrong foot an audience: you never quite know what’s going on until towards the end and all of the horror-esque moments just add to the confusion making the ending one hell of an emotional gut-punch. I wouldn’t watch it if you need something to cheer you up, though.

3. The Trial of Elizabeth Gadge

My second favourite episode of series two, The Trial of Elizabeth Gadge is packed to the brim with silly puns and smutty jokes. I personally predicted the twist but in this case I don’t think it really mattered as I was too busy enjoying the Horrible Histories for adults thing that was going on. Bonus points for another killer cast.

4. Cold Comfort

The first of two episodes directed by Steve and Reece and really quite a bold one at that. The whole thing is filmed in the style of a CCTV feed, which I’m pretty sure an experienced director would warn you off trying, but it really pays off in the narrative. Since the camera doesn’t switch focus at any point, it really relies on the acting performances to keep your focus which, in my opinion, the cast fucking nailed.

5. Nana’s Party

If I had to describe the episode in two words they would be ‘domestic drama’. It’s a fairly classic setup of a family with their fair share of secrets, namely adultery and alcoholism, but happily doesn’t give the game away too early and a layer of humour is added by the slightly irritating prankster character of Pat. It’s the second episode of the series directed by Steve and Reece and has a sort of understated quality to it, showing Claire Skinner’s character’s exacting nature above a layer of familial drama. 

6. Séance Time

My favourite episode of series two, at first you think you’re walking into another haunted house scenario until you find out it’s a prank show that went off the air due to a scandal. There’s a great sense of humour throughout, and I don’t know whether I’m easily freaked out or the final jumpscare was genuinely terrifying but I flew about fifteen feet into the air when I saw it. Once I’d peeled myself off the ceiling, I really appreciated that it felt like a slow burn horror despite still only being half an hour. 

Series 3

1. The Devil of Christmas

I live for schlocky horror films that are so cheesy they give you nightmares if you watch them before bed. So the 1970s film within the episode, accompanied by a director’s commentary-cum-police interview performed by Derek Jacobi, was an absolute treat. The story of Krampus is one that has been done a lot, but never as a snuff film (as far as I know) so it was a nice little twist.

2. The Bill

Every time I rewatch Inside No. 9 this is the episode I always have to watch no matter what. It is such a simple premise and it feels slightly reminiscent of the Geoff, Mike and Brian sketches from The League of Gentlemen. Now is probably the moment where I should sing the praises of director Guillem Morales who has, quite frankly, become my personal hero having seen the many, many episodes of this series he’s directed. The framing in this episode is absolutely genius, but it’s only really obvious after you’ve watched it a few times and I have to give kudos for making a dialogue-heavy episode visually interesting. There are jokes that I think about at least twice a week and I am obsessed with Jason Watkins’ acting...I think this will be my longest review of this whole post. 

3. The Riddle of the Sphinx

This is the best episode I will never watch again. I love horror, and I’ve watched some bone-chilling films but something about this episode made me feel so uncomfortable. It is also a real testament to Steve Pemberton, who I’m led to believe is the cryptic crossword fan who took the lead writing this episode, that he wrote something involving cryptic crosswords that didn’t give me a migraine. 

4. Empty Orchestra

Ah, what a nice change of pace after the last episode with something far lighter. The karaoke booth concept is so fun and I’ve never understood the criticism of the episode. That being said, of every single antagonist in every single episode of Inside No. 9, Connie is the character I love to hate the most. All of the characters feel more like people you’ve met before and the vibe of a group of work colleagues in a karaoke booth going through the usual petty drama feels familiar. I think series three is one that has some of the darkest concepts and this is a great exception to that. 

5. Diddle Diddle Dumpling

When I looked in the background more while rewatching this episode, I noticed a lot of things were in twos. I can only assume that was a deliberate choice made somewhere along the line, and one that pays off when you notice it. Both Mat Baynton and Keeley Hawes played their parts to perfection, with Mat really doing quite a lot with a fairly small part. The whole episode reads as an interesting analysis of grief, in a similar sense to Tom and Gerri. Also, Reece’s character did not murder the remaining twin and apparently I’m the weirdo for thinking that was what was being implied. In my defence, there was cannibalism earlier in the series; filicide did not seem like that big of a leap.

6. Private View 

Agatha Christie eat your heart out (that wasn’t meant to be a reference to the ending, it’s just a happy accident). Murder mysteries are my absolute jam so I am obsessed with this episode. The modern art show is such a great setting for a whodunnit as demonstrated by the reaction to the discovery of Peter Kay’s character’s body. All the characters have their brilliant little quirks, and the killer is revealed at the perfect time and it was a good idea to not make that reveal the twist. 

[tatertotthethot]

The Doms Next Door 2.0

THIS IS A TEMPORARY REUPLOAD FOR THIS CHAPTER CUZ TUMBLR IS RAN BY A BUNCH OF BOTS. 2.1 HERE

Warnings/AN: frequent, casually cursing; comical, gay Jimin; insecure reader; steamy flirting; tattoo/sexualized Tae 🙃. Enjoy~ (TAEKOOK EDIT ABOVE IS ARTKOOK DONE BY NONCONMAN ON INSTAGRAM)

copyright © 2018 all rights reserved

_________________________________

Your tires came to a stop outside of the tattoo shop you've seen online— a brick building, covered in spray paint and street-style art. A sign buzzed over the awning of the entrance doors, with the built-in UV lights and graffiti-styled font displaying the name of the place in neon-red letters. Kink For Ink! The name alone was what first caught your attention last week, when you Googled "Tattoo shops near me" and it pulled up a list, with "Kink For Ink" being the first option. It just seemed so uncanny and fitting at the time, considering the previous run-in you just had with the sex-crazed neighbors a couple nights before. You couldn't help but to click the link to their Instagram.

A profile came up with 53.4k followers, which immediately blew your mind... but you quickly saw why. Every tattoo and piercing, no matter the body-placement, skin-type, or quirky design, was vividly appealing— certainly done by the articulate hands of certified experts. Even in the comments of the piercings that were posted, people were praising them for the "minimal" amount of pain they experienced, despite the fact that some of piercings were done in places you couldn't even fathom the thought of having a needle jammed through.

It said in the bio that the shop is owned by the two artists that work there— Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. You couldn't find out much about them, all their pictures showed was their work. You even went back to search for a personal account of their own, but nothing came up. You then went back to the bio and clicked a link to the official website, hoping to find out something, but you were met with a disclaimer rule at the top that automatically deemed your chances of even getting your piece done by them, slim-to-none.

• No walk-ins allowed.

• Every request/idea must be sent in through the DMs of our Instagram page. You will only be accepted only if it spikes our personal interests.

Yikes; You were instantly discouraged by this. The piece you wanted was something so common and cliché, that you actually got the image out of a child's coloring book.... It was the cartoon layout of the glass vase and enchanted rose, from the Beauty and the Beast movie. Cheesy, yes. But it was something of personal, nostalgic value. You remember when you were little— roughly around 3 or 4 years of age— when your parents started fighting and would spend all day screaming and throwing things at each other, putting you in a constant state of anxiety. But then you'd go to bed at night and pop the VHS tape, and the movie never failed to put you in a peaceful state of mind— a hopeful one. It's remained as your all-time favorite love story throughout the years. Which, is ironic, considering that the relationship itself was different, but almost as dysfunctional as your parent's. However, the fact that even the Beast was capable of change, and everything wound up so perfect and happy in the end, makes your heart happy. And even now, at age 19, it still puts you in your feelings. The previous remake of a movie is what actually inspired you to get the enchanted rose as a tattoo, after seeing it in 3D not too long ago. But you're only willing to shell out up to $200 for it, at most. You've just started college, and even though Jimin's parents own the house and let the two of you live there, rent free, you're still responsible for half the utility bills from month to month. Blowing every bit of money you have saved up, right at the start of the semester, would just be irresponsible. But $200 was manageable, and you're looking for anything that'll give you a little extra "oomph" to break you out of this introverted shell you've always known. Pushing it off would just delay it, and you were ready for change. The nose piercing you want is just a small little thing that'll hopefully add a bit of flare to the features of your face. These two guys could probably do the piercing/tattoo with a blindfold on and a hand tied behind their back. So, if it meant that you'd be able to get these things done in confidence, without having to worry about the outcome, you figured it wouldn't hurt for you to at least ask, even if they straight-up ignore you. So, after spending an unnecessary amount of time overthinking the wording of your text, you finally constructed a message in your notes and DM'd it to business page, after sending them a small, simple outline of the cartoony rose, and pressed send.

• You: Hello! I've been wanting to get this tattoo done for a very while now, and was hoping one of you will be willing to do it for me... along with piercing my nose? I know it's a very mediocre and cliché piece, and a nose piercing can be done anywhere. But I'm new to the area and I've never gotten a tattoo/piercing done before and I haven't really checked out any other places either because I found this page first. And from what I can see, you guys are pretty efficient and CRAZY talented. So, I trust it'll get done right.... only if you want to! I'm willing to pay $200 for this, but if it costs that much for just the outline I've sent then that's fine as well. But I understand if neither of you want to do it cuz that is really cheap compared to the ones I've seen lol. But either way, thx for ur time 😁

A few minutes went by and you had just unlocked your phone to check the message again, when the word "seen" popped below the message. You held your breath for a second— but seconds turned to minutes, and time went by with no reply, what-so-ever. You figured maybe you sounded a little too immature to take seriously; kind of like a prepubescent 12-year-old asking someone out for a dance... and you blew it. Which was disappointing, but predictable. So fuck it. Maybe it's a sign; you shouldn't get it after all.

11pm rolled around, many hours later. You were now hiding beneath your covers, beginning your "amateur threesome" exploration on PornHub. You were ready to see what this whole "2 guys, 1 girl" thing was all about. But just when you were about to type it into the search bar, you were interrupted by an Instagram notification dropping down from the top of your screen.

"KinkForInk sent you a message."

You audibly gasped, eyes turning to saucers as you clicked on the notif and switched over to the Instagram app.

• KinkForInk: Hi (Y/N). This is Tae, one of the artists of the shop. The tattoo you sent in is worth roughly $100... but I want to run an offer by you in hopes that you'll be interested.

— Your brows scrunched in oddity, stomach fluttering. An offer? For you?

• You: Okay, sure. What's that?

• KinkForInk: I've been looking for someone willing to showcase the custom design I've come up with, specifically for a much more... exclusive version of the Beauty and the Beast tattoo you sent. And if you'd be down for letting me and my partner put it on you, it'll be free. No charge. BUT you'll also have to sign a contract saying that you'll do a little bit of modeling for us once it's done. You think you'd be in to doing something like that, even if you get it?

— Your head spun for a second, reading the message over and over again until you could fully wrap your mind around what he was saying.

• You: Hold on... YOU wanna put a tattoo on ME so that I model for you? And it's FREE? Are you sure about this? I'm not even model material lol.

• KinkForInk: Yes, yes, and yes, you are. You'd be perfect for this.

• You: How do know that? Is it a face tattoo? Cuz I only have 6 selfies on here and you can't see anything past my shoulders.

—"Seen" came up as soon as you hit send, but a couple of minutes rolled by with no reply to the message, nor was he even typing. Maybe you came off a little rude. But it was already sketchy and it was a logical question.

— An image suddenly popped up: a screenshot of your Facebook profile. Then another— and much to your horror, it was the photo Jimin tagged you in last week, when the two of you were swimming at a local community pool. You were wearing a simple two piece, sitting at the foot of the lawn chair Jimin was also sitting in, as his legs were visible on either side of you and his lap was practically framing your ass. The photo was at an upward angle and looked so scandalous— but really, you had just asked Jimin to put sun screen on your back and he didn't want to stand up because the pavement was too hot against his bare feet. But you actually liked the picture at the time; it was just a silly joke and your ass actually looked quite nice from that angle. Plus, everyone knows nothing sexual actually goes on between the two of you, for obvious reasons. But Taehyung doesn't, so you couldn't help but dreadfully cringe when you saw the caption of the screen shot.

"Babymama 💦🍆"

• KinkForInk: Is this you??

• You: Yes, that's me. The caption is a joke tho... pay no mind to that. But this is like, really happening? You really think it'd look good on me?

— Why that picture though? You couldn't help but wonder.

• KinkForInk: Yes. Like I said, you're perfect for this piece. Are you down to at least see what the tattoo will look like? We don't expect you to be experienced with modeling or anything, but if you listen to us and cooperate, you'll do just fine.

• You: Yes I wanna see, and I'll do the best I can if I decide to get it... I'm just a bit shy, is all.

• KinkForInk: You'll be in good hands. I promise.

• You: Okay... are you going to show me??

• KinkForInk: Can't send it over a message, I don't want it plagiarized or the concept stolen. But the piece itself isn't necessarily crazy or anything, just more creative. I'd be more than happy to show you at my shop some day this week, if you'd be willing to swing by.

• You: Yeah, I can do that. When should I come?

• KinkForInk: Are you available after 5 tomorrow?

• You: I am, I get off at 4:30.

• KinkForInk: Great. Be here by 5:30, and make sure you've eaten in case you like the piece and wanna get started. It's pretty big for a first timer and gonna take a lot of time and patience. It'll have to be done in sessions but I hope you have a fair enough pain tolerance to at least get the outline of it done first.

— It can't be any worse than a bikini wax, you thought, shivering at the memory. That a story for another time. You decided on an alternative scenario.

• You: I give blood from time to time... but that's easy and doesn't really hurt that much. I think I can handle it though... maybe. I honestly don't know lol, I'm sorry 😣. But I can try my best. Can I ask where it's supposed to go?

• KinkForInk: That's okay, I'll work with you. It's supposed to go down the middle of your back. Starts between the center of your shoulder blades, and trails down the length of your spine to your lower lumbar. You'll see how it looks once we transfer a template on your back. But if you don't like it, there will be no hard feelings from my end. I can still do the tattoo you want if that's the case, free of charge just for your time.

• You: Oh no, you don't have to do that! I'd still pay!

• KinkForInk: Not if I don't accept your money. Trust me, I'm not worried about it. The nose piercing is gonna be $30 regardless, though. JK isn't so lenient.

• You: Of course. Will I have to take my shirt and bra off for the tattoo?

• KinkForInk: Yes, and for the pictures once it's done.

— Your mind blanked at that; thumbs froze over the keypad. He was typing again.

• KinkForInk: Don't let that discourage you. Again, you're in good hands. You can bring something to cover your chest. And the pics will be if your back as well.

• You: Okay, I can handle that. So 5:30 tomorrow?

• KinkForInk: Yes, please don't flake on us!

• You: Lol, I won't. I'll be there.

"They're gonna knock us the fuck out and sell our organs to the black market," Jimin declared. He had parked next to you outside of the shop, and was now sitting in the driver seat of his car with his door locked and windows all the way up, refusing to get out. You were standing right outside his door, still having to talk on the phone. "And is this Tae-guy an AllState representative or something?"

Jimin is petty. You wanted him here for moral support— which he's usually reliable for— but this time, he's just plain salty right and doing everything he can to remind you of that. Reason is, he's been begging you to get a matching tattoo with him ever since your 18th birthday, and you've always refused because of what he wanted to get.

Cupcakes. Jimin wanted to get matching cupcake tattoos... in honor of Cupcakke the legend. Sorry, but H E L L no.

You rolled your eyes, growing frustrated. He only has enough time to pop in and confirm that these two aren't gonna kill you, and then he's gotta head home to get ready for work. You were already supposed to be in there. It was 5:33pm, 3 minutes past the time.

"Jimin, you're the one that insisted on coming along! And now you're making me late!" you ranted. "I'm going in without you."

"Hold your horses, hoe! I'm finishing my blueberry slushie," He retorted, sassily bringing the straw to his mouth and loudly slurping it into the phone. He then abruptly flinched away from the straw with a disgusted expression, nostrils flared, body locking up; lips drawing into an air-tight knot that was so extreme and unnatural, it caused an ugly snort to break out of your nose.

He smacked his lips in exaggeration to the taste, face falling back into stone as an eyebrow arched over the top of his aviators; unamused and saltier than before... Like you were at fault for that, too.

"Or... Blueberry-ass, I should say."

That forced another giggle out of you as Jimin stiffly rolled his window down, phone still pressed to his ear and eyes still scowling at you behind the inspector shades. He bit down on the straw and withdrew it with his teeth before dumping the dark-blue contents of the drink out of the window, making it a point to shake the styrofoam cup empty of every drop before tossing it over his shoulder and into back seat. He then spat the straw out of his mouth with an audible "PLUUUUH!" of a French accent, and waited until the window rolled all the way up again, just so he could hang up the phone. You scoffed at this as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, scornfully watching Jimin exit the car and slam the door behind him. He snatched his glasses off his face as his cotton-candy hair swayed in the breeze, revealing his scornful eyes right back at you as he gestured for you to lead the way in exasperated manner— as if you were the one wasting his time now.

"Go on, lead us to the grave," He shooed, a snippy little shit. You sauntered away, walking up the side of the shop, then paused just before reaching the glass entrance door, when you remembered how much of a coward you are. You've never even stepped into a parlor before, and supposedly, this was a famous one. Which makes it more and more surreal when you think about it.

"Are we doing the mannequin challenge now? Is that what we're doing?" Jimin sardonically inquired.

"You go first, I'm nervous!" You whisper-hissed.

"You don't want me to go in there first— I'll show out," he reasoned, simply stating a fact.

"Please don't," you whined.

"Then, again, I'll show out?" He reiterated, as if to say duh. "How else am I supposed to break the ice? I look like Timmy Turner's Fairy-Gay- Parent."

You gave him a wary look... he's right. You sighed, slightly kicking your foot in distracted defeat. Fuck, you hated making an entrance to new places—

"Hold up— is that Drake?" Jimin suddenly blurted, holding his hand up to silence you. You honed in on the muffled track playing from behind the glass door, and Jimin's face soon light up like a Christmas tree before he spun around you, unstoppable.

"Jimin, NO—!"

"KIKI, DO YOU LOVE ME—?!"

It was already too late. The door was flying back behind him as he Milly-Rocked his way into the shop, leaving you no choice but the chase in behind him.

"—ARE YOU RIDING? SAY YOU'LL NEVA-EVA LEAVE FROM BESIDE ME— hello there."

You were panting, coming to a stop right behind Jimin, where you instantly latched on to the back of his shirt as you met the face of the man behind the studio counter. And, as corny as this is gonna sound: the world actually stilled for a solid beat... or maybe you were in the verge of cardiac arrest.

A pair of glossy-Black eyes looked up at the two of you; A series of silver-studded earrings trailed along the outer cartilages, peaking out beneath a head of soft, layer-swept hair. It was a Carmel-tinted blonde in color— thick and shaggy, and neatly spilling in waves around a headband that proudly sported a high-dollar brand-name you've never seen anyone wear in person before. G U C C I, it read— Meaning that the headband alone was probably worth more than some of your college text books, put together. It sat just a few inches above a pair of dark brows, that oddly brought out the shape of his cat-like eyes— irises like polished marbles. His ample lips had a sharp, well-defined Cupid's-bow, and a natural shade of pink that fit the porcelain appearance of his melanin-kissed complexion, to the finest degree.

And here you are, looking like an actual bum. You had just enough time to clock out of work and head straight over here to make it in time. You didn't even have any makeup on, and the only thing hiding your raggedy hair from those captivating eyes is your old baseball cap from high school. It took a second for him to take the bold presence that was Park Jimin— who was also frozen to the spot as he openly checked the guy out. He was hunched over the counter, a v-neck hoodie covering the rest of him with a thin, loose-fitting material. It was Black and allowed a full visual of his tan neck, and prominent collar bones. And it certainly didn't hide the fact that he had a pair of wide-set shoulders, either. A pencil sat in his hand— one that was laced with masculine veins, and lot of decorative ink. There was a silver ring on his thumb.. and a very heavy-looking Rolex watch.

The man cracked a grin at Jimin— a boxy one that dimpled in at the corners.

"Love the hair," he humorously began, twisting a quirky eyebrow at Jimin. You subconsciously snagged the bill of your hat as your eyes went a little wide at how mature the man's voice was.

"Love the watch," Jimin retorted, then reached around and gripped you by the wrist before pulling you into full view beside him. "You wouldn't happen to be Taehyung...?"

"Mhm," the man hummed, absentmindedly moving his wrist at the mention of his watch. His eyes cut over to you, and you swore you could see a minuscule reflection of yourself in his eyes, before they flashed back at Jimin and blinked. "You must be the babydaddy?"

Blood rushes to your ears. It's really him... a guy who looks like a high-dollar model himself, asking you to be his canvas model. Your own conscious didn't even know what to say right now. So you stayed quiet and still as Jimin took charge... which was a mistake.

"She wishes, but no. I'm the best-friend— and a gay one, at that," Jimin replied, and you knew he did that for his benefit. Thot. "I'm just here to make sure you're not gonna sacrifice her to Satan, or anything of that nature. I need her around in case I ever forget the Netflix password."

Taehyung chuckled at that, mouth opening to reveal a row of teeth shinier than Chip Skylark's. But then, you caught something behind his teeth that caused your gut to leap. A silver ball... a tongue ring. Your thoughts clouded over for a second.

"Well, I can assure you, she's safe with me," he said, looking over at you again. You blinked, nothing more. His brow arched at your lack of response, but this time, it was done more handsomely as he was still smirking at you. "Still, you don't look too thrilled to be here... You sure you wanna do this?"

"She's just nervous because you're really fucking hot," Jimin announced, unyielding. "You should feel how sweaty her hand is."

"Don't listen to him— I'm gay too," You lied in panic, trying to defend yourself from the absolute truth Jimin spoke just then. You snatched your hand away from him and jutted a finger at the door, eyes beading and lid twitching as your nerves ran amuck. "Goodbye, Jimin."

"She's a lonesome hetero," Jimin told Taehyung, assuring him with a face that showed no bluff. "One look at her camera roll, and you'd see for yourself—" You were yanking him away by the arm now, in a tug-of-war game that Jimin obviously could've won if he really wanted to. But he figured you suffered enough and eventually let you drag him out of the shop, waving bye to Taehyung before turning to look at you with beading eyes.

"I think he wants to fuck you— text me as soon as you can," Jimin uttered with unmoving lips as before he walked to his car. You stopped for a second, noticing he was actually being serious. How could he possibly think that he wants to fuck you, just from that small encounter? And what is the odd sensation currently coiling in your stomach? Things grew awkward again when you re-entered the shop, coming to a stand at the same spot... only alone now. He was still amused, it seemed. And so calm and cool despite this odd, intense look in his eyes. It gave him a Casanova effect, where all he had to do was give you that look and it'd instantly make you blush.

"He seems like a fun person to be around," he noted, somewhat honestly, but more so making fun of the red-hot appearance of your face.

"He's a pain in the ass," you muttered, trying to conjure up a smirk but hardly even able to speak properly from how dry your mouth was. It felt like there was a white-hot iron expanding in your throat. "I'm really sorry about him."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're here— thought you'd chicken out." You nervously wiped your clammy palms over the back pockets of your jeans as Taehyung got up from the barstool behind the counter and approached you on the other side of it, a whole head-and-a-half taller than you. He was wearing black cardigan jeans and matching combat boots.. his headband and jewelry the only thing not black on him. And oddly enough, he made it look fucking fantastic.

"Mh-mm," You hummed, not trusting your voice. You've never needed a sip of water so bad in your life— he even smelled expensive.

"Well, It's very nice to meet you," he formerly began, and you mustered up the normality of placing your (dried) hand into his much larger one, as he held his out to you in greeting. And boy, was he close. So close that the heels of your spine itches to lean back from the proximity.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I'm really sorry if I'm acting weird. I'm just nervous." — Your mind struggled to stay focused on your words, arm tensing at the skin-to-skin contact. You were extra-effected by the firmness in his grip. You really wanted to look down at all the bold ink you saw dashing across the veiny surface of his tanned hand, or see if those were images or scripted letters on the knuckles of lengthy fingers... But you were held captive by those God-blessed eyes... And that fucking tongue ring. It was infecting your head in ways that weren't necessarily healthy for your current state of mind, as you saw it peering in and out at certain words.

"And physically shaking," Taehyung pointed out, brows twitching down at your trembling hand in his as if he was concerned for it. But his smirk gave off an odd sense of fascination to the involuntary symptom, like it was cute or something? Hm. He glanced back up at you, causing your dehydrated throat to bob as his other hand came to clasp over the rest of yours, swallowing it completely from the wrist down. "Intimidated?"

"V-Very," you spluttered, a small slither of saliva copulating down your throat as you looked back up at him. He absentmindedly rolled his tongue ring over the button row of his teeth as he watched you with tainted eyes— undoubtably getting cocky with that damn grin of his and proudly teasing you about your reaction to him. It gratified the effortless sex-appeal he had. You were even beginning to imagine that tongue ring elsewhere, and you literally just met him. Then, as you felt the band of a ring move along with the pad of his thumb as gently ran it across your trembly knuckles, chills shot up all the way to your shoulder. Oh... oh wow. You glanced down at his knuckles on reflex this time, and saw a four-letter word scripted in black ink across the bottom row of his knuckles, and another word scripted on the middle section of his fingers. A silver band on his naked thumb. STAY TRUE, it said.

"And why's that?"

"I.. feel like you're a celebrity," you sheepishly admitted, your other hand wedging into your back pocket as you had to stop yourself from reaching for the bill of your hat again. Is he flirting? The words seem too innocent for the way he was making you feel. It was getting so hot in the oven of his massive palms, and he wasn't even squeezing you hard enough to cut off any circulation, but yet your fingers were beginning to tingle.

"Mm, no. Just a little popular, really," he granted, teetering his head a little as he pondered the thought. You could see his vocal chords contract in his sleek neck as they project his smooth, pungent voice. "You still trust me?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. He'd gotten even closer, to where his hand had gone into a prayer stance around yours. You were aware of how wide your eyes had gone from the awe you... you knew this was just the beginning. He was going to be very handsy throughout this whole process. But in a very twisted way, you were more than okay with that. Even if it meant you were at risk of fainting from actual dehydration. Maybe you were in over your head. But you couldn't will yourself away from this now. And then, just as a wide, heart-stopping smile edged out on that mind-numbingly handsome face, the door at that back of the room swung open, and heavy-metal rock blasted through the quiet vibe of the scenery and caused you to jump a little at the disturbance. Taehyung shot a wicked smile over his shoulder, and his next words nearly knocked you out right then and there as you beheld yet another, breathtaking sight.

"Oh, there you are," Tae eagerly acknowledged, one hand still holding yours as he walked around to grab your with the other, presenting you to the.. hulking presence in the room. "This is (Y/N), our next little experiment."

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Dark and Dusty

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Damnit, did Reynolds forget he took my watch again?" Jane heaved her stiff body away from the person desperately shaking her awake. Gods, she felt like hell. Take a hangover and add being run over by three buses filled with elcor.

"Jane, I wouldn't-," Roy's usually calm voice laced with fear, pleading with the stubborn woman to get up, "there's an emergency. I need you."

The building reverberated, dust wafting into the air in the aftermath of the sudden tremor. The woman sprung from her cot, scrambling through the hallways at breakneck speed. Her footing proved not to be so cooperative, but she held her pace. The rumble had come from the western parking lot, and the rest was slowly forming into a clearer picture, the hushed building, and the distant discharge of guns faint but persistent. Footsteps kept pace behind her, but his words faded into the pounding of her head and the blur of her singular purpose. Arriving in the parking lot out of breath finally drew the situation in a complete picture: they were under siege.

Jane slid into the concrete barrier where Silva rested the barrel of her sniper rifle, her silver eyes flicking over the human a minute later, "you look like shit."

"I've had worse days," she quipped, "what's going on?"

The Turian pulled in a long breath, "I don't know exactly, we got a report of armed assailants. I'm only here to stop them from getting in- Korvac wants you upstairs," the tilt of her head motioned both of them up the ramp.

"Jane, wait!' Roy called as they set up the ramp. The blue-eyed woman giving him a steely gaze, "your weapon?"

"Thank you," she mumbled, forgetting to grab a weapon was not her usual move.

"If you're too hurt-"

"I've had worse," Jane hissed coldly.

The LT gave up, but she felt his gaze on her back. He had more to say. Thankfully, it wasn't coming. The short but brisk trek to the top level of the parking structure drew out in silence. Both comfortable with focusing on the task at hand, the Turian leader waved them over. Directing Jane to look down the scope of the Sniper rifle he handed over to her. The alien was silent, gaze pinned in a westward direction.

She looked down the scope, finding the problem in short order. The familiar krogan, but now flanked in a small force of vorcha. The dull click of the safety-on weapon a very disappointing turn.

"I take it that is only the forward assault?"

"Yes," the Turian hummed, "we're getting reports of at least three other groups. One in each direction."

"Looks like old members of the Blood Pack."

Korvac nodded.

"Where are the varren?"

The structure shook again, "rigged to explode."

Jane handed the weapon to her silent superior, "we need to get all the civilians out, now."

"How? The bastard knows all the routes in and out."

A stand was the obvious answer. They knew they couldn't lose the building; several months' worth of food, clean water, and medical supplies couldn't be moved in time. The gardens and restored generators meant a sustainable future until ships could start rolling off the planet and out of the system. A restart meant a very uncertain future.

They all knew this time was coming. It was just too soon. All preparations, perhaps foolishly, were spent on improving their ease of life. Or more considerately, on the influx of refugees that sought out aid or shelter.

"Alright, Princesses, we can start fighting back now that the Krogan are here," Wrex taunted with misplaced enthusiasm, somethings never changed.

"Wrex," Korvac greeted with unexpected civility, giving a brief overview of the entire situation.

"I volunteer to head off Greenie," the two alien leaders looked at her curiously, "he has the biggest beef with me. If I keep him distracted, or better yet kill him, he can't use whatever knowledge he has of the building. The rest of you can focus on the fodder."

"That's supposing he hasn't given away all our secrets, and it's more than just vorcha; it's every opportunist he could round up," Korvac cautioned.

"Well, we lack time to make a better plan," but he made a good point, but at this time fucked was fucked.

"We can only hope those opportunists are too greedy to share information," Wrex chimed in, "plus this one knows how to make his blood boil."

"Has anyone started to round up the civilians?" Jane asked in Roy's direction.

"I-," the human stuttered.

"Reynolds, this is Recruit- yes." Jane radioed the first soldier she thought could handle the responsibility of gathering the noncombatants. Luckily he was already on the task, but Jane made sure to drill all relevant issues to assure success. Her short conversation and the two alien leaders discussing joint strategy coincided.

"Can you handle the western edge?" the Turian questioned after a long moment, "that could buy us some time. The other groups are still a bit further out."

"You aren't going alone," Roy broke from his stupor, "I'll join you."

"LT-"

"He's right, you need help. Take Silva and the squad at the ramp exit. We need you to slow them."

"How come she gets all the fun," the krogan mused, "fight hard."

"Aim for the head," Jane returned gently.

She picked at the shoddy chest piece that was several inches too big. At a time like this, she shouldn't be picky about such a thing, it was lucky to have a functioning piece of armour, but when one got used to custom and tailored armour, it was hard to go back. But how it already dug into her uncomfortably, it might be better not to have the thing at all. But it was the draw of having a working shield that made the risk worth it.

The most concerning issue was Roy's silence.

"LT," she cooed, "everything alright?"

He toyed with his assault rifle, cheeks puffing out, "this is serious, isn't it?"

Right, Roy hadn't experienced much in terms of combat; before the Reaper War he had seen none in his military days. This up-close, high-risk mission with a small squad was out of his foray, especially with the consequences of failing. Manning the perimeter and firing shots at assailants behind windows was a different ballgame from the full-fire combat.

"It's not too late to join the others," Jane was already miffed that a squad followed behind her; the hair-brained suicide mission felt like a better option. To see Silva and Roy tied up in it was a lead weight in her heart.

The man huffed again, and she reflexively looked down, braced for his angry retort. Instead, his arms pulled her in, wrapping around her tightly, a hand cradling the back of her head, "not now. We both know how important this is."

"No need to get all emotional, LT," she teased gently, working herself from his grip slowly the attention it brought both of them stopping the moment from lasting, "keep your head down and stay undercover. Adrenaline takes over the rest."

"I'm glad you know what you are doing," but he managed to smile, "I'll stop moping."

Jane tenderly nudged him, "I've seen lifelong soldiers piss themselves before their first battles, I think you're doing fine."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Varren were easy.

Not in the familiar way of sending the lot of them flying with a biotic blast of energy that tore through the pack in a single flick of her arm easy- but one headshot seemed to do the trick. Silva caught a few from behind her shoulder, sticking to her vantage point further downwind. Roy's assault rifle hit the explosive packs, wiping out several in one burst.

It was the vorcha crawling over the rubble and concrete barriers that had her worried. They took far more time and attention to deal with. Their innate regeneration meant missed shots becoming more costly, and the extra time needed to line up an accurate headshot took attention away from the swarming varren. And wherever that damned Krogan went.

The first turian went down, a missed varren sending shale and dust rocketing across the entrenched ramp.

Vorcha swarmed through the haze, the real heat of battle ensuing in the panic. Some resorted to hand-to-hand combat, while others fired into the fog. Screams echoed in the concrete chamber, and they were getting overrun quickly. Several more detonations followed, rocking the building and dust from where it rested.

"Hold fire!" Jane screamed.

Attempting something she had only ever seen but not done.

A pulsing blue shield of biotic energy enveloped the entrance to the parking structure. It wavered, shrinking a meter before it swelled back into its original size. Jane stood in the middle, the swirling energy coating her body.

The defenders didn't need to hear Shepard's strained command to return fire. Varren and Vorcha alike collided against the barrier, if they were not gunned down. The biotic force a shield against further explosions and, more importantly, the rubble from the blasts.

"Jane, Greenie just ahead," Silva radioed- the rest of her statement ignored in the blur of her focus shift and the human's collapsing against the concrete barrier.

Roy slid against his recruit once he needed to reload, "we could have used that firepower long ago, Recruit!"

"Heh," half of Jane smirked, blood streaking from her nostrils. Peering over the concrete sloppily to get a look at the green crested Krogan that approached. Her smile widened as Roy looked at her with growing horror.

Roy grabbed her face, his thumb tracing down the unreactive side of her cheek. The odd scars glimmered beneath the touch, her eyelid reacted slowly to his thumb hovering over it. His worry intensified as the woman snapped forward, her head colliding with his chest plate. Unconscious for only the moment her forehead met armour.

"We're the only ones left," the voice over the radio stated in a panic, a shot careening over their position.

"Don't do this," he murmured, grabbing the stubborn female's chin. Purple washed over her skin despite the tear leaving his eye.

After all his fuss, he was powerless against the otherwise harmless force of energy that sent him toppling into another barricade; Jane looked down at him from a shakey height, "I won't be the last again."

In a splitting snap, Jane was gone, transforming into a hurtling meteor of blue energy racing at the oncoming krogan. The mass of energy collided full force with the krogan, bashing him into the wall a resounding crack of bone and sinew followed but still, the alien managed to shove the woman to the ground. Jane rolled to avoid the shotgun blast, using the momentum to charge again. This time with only the force of anger and spite.

The shimmering purple and blue gathered into her palms, exploding nanoseconds later in a pulse of bright light that filled the structure. Rocking it aside more than any of the rigged varren could manage. Once the light settled, the recruit's form lay lifeless on the ground. The Krogan's teetering foot lifted, on course for her exposed skull slamming with the last of his might.

[thechildofstark]

Fuck John Walker (and also some other stuff): A Response To Episode Four

WARNING: some bad language, death mentions, violence mentions, blood mentions, racism, spoilers for for ep 4 of tfatws 

DISCLAMER: I have some Opinions about various characters. These do not extend to the actors, who I’m sure are lovely and should be treated with the dignity, privacy and respect that they deserve. 

“Fuck John Walker” was originally meant to be the subtitle. I decided on it when he screwed up the op for Sam. It got ungraded during the final scene, because nothing else could possibly compare as a necessary title to this post. 

Essentially, some (out of order) thoughts on episode 4:

~*Sam and Bucky, working together*~ (pretend this is a musical jingle)

The contrasting ways that they interacted with the displaced

While the incredibly valid argument can be made that Sam is the least privileged of the group (I’ve made it) it is obvious that he has had the most structured civilian life: approaching the people he comes across openly. Yes, he is polite and calm, but the closest thing to this he has personally come across in the past (that we know of) would be the war vets he worked with and the critical difference is that they wanted to be there. From what I remember of Sam’s groups they didn’t seem to be a sort of mandatory requirement: you came because you chose to. Or at least, you came prepared for the situation. Here, Sam is an outsider and an unwelcome threat. These people are not going to open up to him. 

Bucky is quieter, but still quite straight forward in the way he presents himself. I think he may show a little more care for the environment he is in than Sam but that isn’t saying much. Yes, he has experienced much worse things than Sam but we still see his unfamiliarity with this sort of situation paired with some less than stellar social skills really not working in his favor. 

Look, I love both these 2 to death. But this is not what they know. 

Zemo on the other hand quite likely lived in a place similar to this after his family was murdered. He shows an understanding of how this sort of situation would work, going to children who:

a) wont necessarily peg him as an outsider

b) are bribable

also I think he was genuinely super glad to give those kids that candy and money. He would have been such a good dad. now I have Zemo feels. somebody help me.

The inclusion of the Dora Milaje was incredibly awesome, and not just because I simp for powerful women. Narratively, this was the perfect place for them to join the party and assert their right to apprehend Zemo. 

Bucky speaking Xhosa (i think it was?) is very cool

 I would like to take this moment to formally state that Caption John Walker is a motherfucking asshole. 

It was also really nice to see Sam’s therapist skills, that worked against him earlier really help him here. 

I liked seeing that more human side of Karli, and having her interact with the “enemy” and have serious conversation about what everyone is doing.

Until Captain Insecurity has to destroy the op because he doesn’t trust the people he chose to work with, no one has comms or anything I guess?

Also Walker deferring to Bucky for team decisions over Sam, talking over Sam and acting like he knows better than Sam?

I smell racism in this Chili’s tonight

It was also really interesting to get a more in-depth look at how Zemo views supersoldiers. Nearly all the ones that he has either heard of or interacted with (destroyed) had either volunteered for the serum or were so brainwashed that it didn’t make a difference. These people are a dangerous enemy to be eliminated, alongside people like Dr. Nagel. His entire worldview is focused on their destruction that the idea that one of them could be a normal person is impossible to him. The only exceptions acknowledged are Steve (paragon of saintly virtue) and Bucky. 

And the fact that after his family died and his country devastated he would most likely have fixated on both the Avengers and the “concept” of a superhuman being as something to blame for his loss. His refusal to concede his position to Sam isn’t just arrogance, although that seems to be a part of it, but the fact that he has spent so much time and energy in destroying both the Winter Soldier program and most likely other similar operations, along with the Avengers that this hatred and belief in the danger has most likely become one of his core beliefs. To change this would be to question his vendetta against the Avengers, to question his actions against the Winter Soldier program which he knows was a horrible thing, and to question why he has spent the past seven years in maximum security prison. This isn’t something he is ready to do yet.  

The fact that Bucky is a noted exception is something that stands out to me. Zemo knows that Bucky is a good person, regardless of the serum. 

Bucky is also the only main character (that I can think of) that was injected with the serum against his will. The fact that he didn’t seek it out could quite likely be part of the reason that Zemo doesn’t look down on him for it - it is framed that the sort of person that seeks out that sort of strength/power would be a “supremacist”, someone who would use their abilities to harm and subjugate others.

And while we are at the apartment may I say how funny it is to see Zemo just. Literally being Sam and Bucky’s sugar daddy. He transports them and houses them and makes them fancy tea. It’s possible he’s providing them with clothes. Either way, love it. Cannot wait for the boys to work it out.

Sam and Lemar’s responses to being offered the serum are an interesting juxtaposition to how they view the concept of supersoldiers. They have both experienced hardship and survived war but Sam is the one that has gone up against Gods and monsters and he wants none of that, thank you. 

And Lemar is so comfortable with saying yes because it isn’t actually being offered to him. Walker expresses some hesitation in their discussion because for him, it isn’t hypothetical. This is something real that can and will effect him for the rest of his life and he wants to make the “right decision”.

The return of Erskine’s belief that the serum not only effect the physical but the mental, emotional and (possibly?) spiritual. This isn’t something that’s really been touched on outside of The First Avenger and I liked that it turned up here. But the fact that it was the reason Walker felt comfortable taking the serum? Eww

The Dora Milaje kicking names and taking ass is super awesome. They are so incredibly skilled and have such amazing teamwork and are also super beautiful I love them 

Sam and Bucky just. Watching. Enjoying the show. Absolute kings. 

Zemo being the sneaky little sneak that he is :)

One one hand, Bucky losing his arm in the fight was very awesome. One the other hand, he has a long history of complicated bodily autonomy in relation to that arm so........  Neutral opinion it is then 

Karli, honey, I really want to like you but can you please keep the mans family out of it. Okay?

And another thing that this show made me think about: kids left to fend for themselves after the Blip (uuuurrrggh it hate calling it that. stupid canonical name). I think it’s good that at least some people took it on themselves to take these children in, to give them good lives and families.

The way that Sam has incorporated his wings into his combat style is very cool

Okie dokie can’t avoid it forever lets get this over with. 

LEMAR MY BEAUTIFUL SON NOOOO

those fuckers (the writers i mean)

Side note: did they really have to make the first main character death of the series a Black “sidekick” character? No. No they did not. 

Side side note: I understand that this is a perfectly valid way (ew) to “advance the plot” but I can and will be annoyed about it

And now we really get into the shit. But...........................

As much as I absolutely unequivocally hate John Walker I actually like the thematic parallels of how they did this. All throughout The First Avenger Steve is adamant on how he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, he just wants to stand up to the bullies. It’s only after Bucky dies that he says he wants to kill all the Nazis and really get into the horror of it all. The fact that John, who has absolutely been on the edge for the entire episode if not longer, only loses it after Lemar dies?

Because Lemar is arguably meant to be that stand-in for Bucky in the eyes of the public, and they are obviously close friends..........

Just - 

I feel I may have accidentally been slightly nicer than I planned to Walker in this post. I’m not sure how I feel about that. 

But C****** J*** W****** is NOT Captain America. Up until now I’ve been calling him “Fake Cap” in my head and to my family, but he doesn’t even deserve that honor. 

And the blood on the Shield. Dear god that was horrible. 

And the fact that, as it was pointed out in this very episode, this man fully represents everything that is Captain America, to the world. He isn’t only tarnishing his own legacy, he is also destroying Steve’s. And to some extent, Bucky’s. The whole reason that Bucky Barnes is considered a “Superhero” is because, at least in America he is known as “Cap’s Best Friend”. He was marketed that way for over half a century, and after the whole “Winter Solder” thing, goodwill or no, brainwashing or no, this could end very ugly for him. Not to mention that Steve Rogers is most likely to be forgotten to history in favor of this freak. 

And on that note, where the fuck is Steve? This is set only 6 months after Endgame, if he had died we would know. So what the hell is he doing? Because I know he got perpetual brainrot going back in time to be str8 and boring but dear god if the show tries to tell me that he’s just chilling in some senior’s center in Alaska I will actually call bullshit. Steve Rogers would never. Okay this is a whole separate post on my thought on Steve. Watch this space I guess. 

And while we’re all here, Bucky Barnes needs a goddamn boyfriend. I’ve done some thinking, and here is a compiled shortlist: 

Sam

Zemo

De-aged Steve (he would be higher but I’m still mad at him for the whole “vanishing without a word to relive Jim Crow and the Lavender Scare. :/ )

IN THAT ORDER. 

That’s all folks. 

Feel free to send me asks if you want clarification or extra details on anything. 

And finally - 

the thing we all came to see:

FUCK

JOHN 

WALKER

fin

[panda-noosh]

the missing part {George Weasley x Reader}

Words: 10.5k

Summary: The trio becomes a pair.

Genre: angst

Warnings: mentions of death - grief - this is also a platonic fic so if you’re looking for some good good romance, you might not wanna waste your time with this one. 

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - THIS IS A SAD ONE BOYOS 

----

You receive the news shortly after everything happens.

   The change to the wizarding world is a physical one. Wizards all over the globe can feel the difference, even though they weren't at the scene, even though news has yet to break of the details describing what really happened that evening in Hogwarts. People are cheering and screaming victory in the streets, because everyone just knows. Everyone is breathing normally again. Everyone is safe.

  It's excitement that claws at you first and foremost, because you're stuck in that head space where nothing feels wrong. Voldemort is dead – you know it, the world knows it, everyone is okay. You celebrate with a glass of wine, too absorbed in this massive victory to think of the sacrifices that must have happened to make it happen. For tonight, all you want is a chance to bask in a freedom you have not felt nor experienced in many, many years.

  But the euphoria can't last forever. One problem has been taken care of, and now there is room for more to trickle in.

  You receive the letter the next day. You wake up from a wine-induced sleep to the sound of the owls beak tapping against your window; you retrieve the letter with a hopeful mind and trembling fingers, because it has been so long since you've received a letter that isn't a warning of the Ministry getting closer to your home, or a newspaper reporting news you do not want to hear, news so false and manufactured it made you start buying The Quibbler just for a real taste of what was happening in the outside world.

    You open the letter at your kitchen table, and this is something you will always, always remember, a moment that will forever be locked in your brain due to the trauma – genuine trauma – it swept upon you. Over a glass of milk and a bowl of cereal, you read the words Fred is dead, scribbled in the handwriting of Molly Weasley.

  You read it over and over again, just to make sure your mind is not playing tricks on you – you would be less surprised if you suddenly found out your months of isolation had made you gone insane, because it seems most impossible that Fred Weasley is no longer alive, no longer with you, no longer laughing and smiling and brightening up a room with his twin brother at his side.

   Through your heartbreak, this thought leads you to the even more heartbreaking thought of the twin that is still doing all those things – George. How his world must have shifted, how he must be feeling. You remember sitting beside him back at Hogwarts, listening to him and Fred speak at the exact same time – back then it felt so weird, and you'd cringe and tell them to stop; now, however, you can barely stomach the idea of not hearing their synchronised sentences.

  You write back, asking Molly if there's anything you can do, sending your condolences without making it obvious you are completely and utterly crushed. She replies shortly, saying she wants you there for the funeral, George wants you there for the funeral, Fred would want you there for the funeral.

  And you don't want to go. Call it selfish,cowardly, but you don't want to. Standing beside his casket, surrounded by his family and friends, will make it real. When you're huddled in your home, away from it all, it's easy enough to pretend Fred is sat at The Burrow, celebrating the same victory as the rest of the wizarding world, the victory he played a part in.

  Nonetheless, you arrive at The Burrow the very next day.

   Molly opens the door before you've knocked, having clearly heard the faint pop of you Apparating in her front garden. A gnome runs right for your knees, but Molly shoves it away with her foot before dragging you into a bear-like hug; you can see she's been crying furiously, her eyes swollen, her face having aged a number of years in the space of a day. Her hug, though, is just as you've always remembered it, arms tight around your neck, body swaying slightly from side to side as she whispers unintelligible things in your ear.

  She pulls away and holds you at arms length; you can't imagine what she must be seeing. That young wizard she used to babysit is gone now, replaced by someone harder, someone more refined and experienced. She's not the only one who has aged a great number of years in such a short space of time.

  “How are you?” is the first thing you can manage to say.

  And already the tears are flooding her eyes again, like the question has triggered some memory she cannot fight off. Her lower lip trembles, and she humours you with a small nod before she wraps her beefy arm around your shoulders and guides you into the warmth of a home that should not be able to hold so many people but does so anyway.

  There they are – the Weasleys, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, all stood in the kitchen. They're chatting, but the conversation is hushed and it ends as soon as you make an appearance. Harry is the first to stand, offering you his hand for a handshake he is too young for; you roll your eyes and tug him into a hug. He grunts against you, but you don't even care – it has been two years since you laid eyes on the Boy Who Lived, and a handshake will simply not cut it.

    “You made it,” Hermione says, approaching you once Harry has stumbled off. She wraps her arms gently around your waist. “How was the trip?”

  “Easy enough,” you reply, lips pressed into her hair.

  “Where have you been all this time?” Bill asks.

  Still holding Hermione close, afraid of letting go lest she takes your composure with her, you say, “I've been hiding. Just a flat in Hogsmeade; a pure-blood owns it. He let a bunch of us Muggle-borns stay with him until it all died down.” You glance at Harry. “You feeling alright?”

  He nods. “Just. . . Still tired, I guess.”

  You can understand that; though you know the newspapers will never do the scene justice, you were able to gather the basic jidst of the events that took place in Hogwarts only a few days prior – the deaths, the injuries, the horrors so many young kids have seen and will now never be able to erase from their memories.

  “Well,” Molly exhales shakily. “I'll get the kettle on. Y/N, you must be starving. How does a bit of stew sound?”

  You nod, giving Molly a grateful smile before your mind zones back in on where you are, what you're here for. Instinctively you search the room for any sign of your best friend – the one that's left – and it's not exactly a surprise when you see he is not there. The rest of the Weasleys are – even Percy, who sits in the corner with his legs folded over one another, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of coffee in his hands. He looks up at the feel of your eyes burning into him, surprising you by nodding towards the back door.

  You raise your brows, but follow him out nonetheless. Percy and you never truly got on – he was Fred and George's bossy older brother, and that was always what you left it as. Whenever he decided to abandon the Weasley name for the sake of his precious minister, you lost what little respect you had for him.

  Now, however, it's difficult to keep that attitude up; the other Weasleys all look exhausted, but Percy looks a little ill, stumbling over the final step the two of you descend. You grab his elbow before he can fall, and he shakes you off in his attempts to pretend he hadn't nearly fallen face first onto the concrete.

  He turns to look at you when you're a decent enough distance from the house. “I wasn't sure if you were going to be here.”

  “Of course I was going to be here,” you reply, startled by the croak in his voice, as if he hasn't spoken to anyone in weeks. “He was my best friend, Perce.”

  “I know. I know he was, but – just – with everything that happened. Mum wasn't even going to send you an owl. She was just going to let you enjoy the celebrations with everyone else. It was Dad who had to step in and tell her you had a right to know.”

  Your stomach flips. “Well I'm glad she told me. I'm – I'm glad I can be here.”

  Percy nods, looking off into the distance. “Has anyone told you what happened?”

  “No. I'm not going to make you relive it if-”

   “I was there when it happened. I watched the curse hit him.” His voice breaks, and that drives it home for you; Percy Weasley, usually so composed and professional, is struggling to form a sentence right now. He can't even bring himself to look in your direction.

  You step forward and touch his elbow, as if that will cure anything, take away his pain. His eyes close at the feel of your fingers.

  “I'm so sorry,” you mumble.

  “Yeah,” he replies shakily. “I got the bastard who did it, though.”

  You force a smile. “Good.”

     “And you know what the most fucked up part of it is?” He opens his eyes and looks at you. “My first thought wasn't even Oh God, my brothers dead. It was Oh God, George is going to be heartbroken.”

  Your lower lip trembles before you can stop it, before his words have even properly processed; it's heartbreaking to hear something like that, a blow to the gut you were not prepared for.

  Percy laughs, cold and dead. “Can you believe that?”

  “Yes,” you choke out. “Yes, I can. Where is George?”

  “In his room. He didn't want to see you yet.”

  It doesn't even hurt your feelings. You completely understand, considering you're not entirely ready to see him just yet, either.

  You glance over at the front door; everyone is beginning to gather round the kitchen table. Arthur pops his head in the window and beckons for you and Percy to hurry up; you give him a thumbs up before whirling back to Percy and grabbing his hand. He starts, eyes widening, but you hurry on before he can say anything.

  “What happened to him, Perce? What happened to Fred?”

  Percy pauses. “He was dead before he even hit the floor, Y/N. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

   You inhale shakily; you cannot cry, not right now, not whenever dinner is being served and his family has pulled themselves together. Percy pulls you into a tight hug when he sees the struggle for peace on your face; you asked for that detail to see if it would help, to see if stripping the mystery from the equation would help you heal a bit quicker, but it doesn't. Now all you can imagine as you walk back into The Burrow, tucked under Percy's arm, is that curse blasting Fred's chest cavity apart, his forever smile fading away for good.

  ---

  The next morning arrives, and you are still yet to see George.

  Molly apologises a grand number of times for his absence, but you brush it off every single time – you understand. He's healing. He's suffering, trying to process this just as much as you are. Seeing you after so long apart will only bring back fresh memories, and you don't want to be the reason behind his breakdown.

  So you keep your distance, helping Molly and Ginny with breakfast before heading out into the garden to help Ron and Charlie clean up bits of shrapnel that had been left behind from Bill and Fleur's wedding, shrapnel they weren't able to clean up with everything going on.

  Charlie keeps the conversation up, forever the chatterbox. Ron humours his older brother with little bits of laughter sprinkled in here and there, but it's obvious he wants nothing more than to just sit in silence for a little while.

    As the morning rolls into the afternoon and jobs become scarce, you find yourself walking around the garden on your own. Once upon a time, this used to be the playground for you, Fred and George – three best friends who had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, an entire summer on their hands. Your parents never outwardly disowned you after you received your letter to Hogwarts, but they were always weary of you afterwards, as if expecting you to snap at any given moment. Their fear gave you an excuse to spend the two months of summer holidays at the Weasley's house, where you, Fred and George would play Quidditch for hours on end, hiding from Molly when you could just tell she wanted you to do a job for her.

   The memories come back to you in waves, and it hurts, but you force yourself through it, because you'd much rather remember the good times spent with Fred than sit and concentrate on the fact there will no longer be any more of those good times.

   You arrive at the tiny square of grass you used to use as a make-shift Quidditch pitch; George would haul the bins over and enchant them to float high enough in the air that you could trick yourselves into believing they really were Quidditch goal posts. You would always be Seeker, because you were good at that, and Fred and George would play against each other with the Quaffle, yelling insults that had Molly emerging from the house, threateningly waving a wooden spoon in their direction. You could never hear what she was saying from so high up, but maybe that was for the best.

  You place your hand on the fence, gazing out at the square, so unused and untouched. A gnome scatters across the centre of it and dives into a hole on the other side; you don't even try and grab it.

  The sound of footsteps makes you freeze; after months of being in hiding, any noise you cannot immediately identify has you on edge, though this is something you're trying desperately to combat; Voldemort is dead now – he doesn't have to control your life any more.

  “Mum told me you were walking about on your own, you little loner.”

  George's voice is like a song. Your favourite song. A song you haven't heard in years, but one you love no less than when you heard it every single day.

  You glance at him over your shoulder; he's still in his pyjamas, red hair stuck on end, lips chapped and cheeks sunken. His skin looks pale – paler than it usually does – but he's still smiling when his eyes meet yours. You know it's not real, but you appreciate his attempts nonetheless.

  “Yeah,” you reply. “I was just getting a bit of fresh air.”

  “Nothing fresh about the air around here.”

  “It's better than being inside.”

  George shrugs. “I didn't get the memo.”

  You hollow out your cheeks, turning back to the field. “Harry told me about your ear.”

  “Oh, did he? Did he happen to find it lying about somewhere, 'cause if so, I'd love to have it back.”

  “He said you lost it. It got blown off or something.”

  George hums. You can see his knuckles tightening on the fence, and you silently wonder if you've perhaps said too much; maybe he doesn't want to talk about that time.

  “It was Snape,” George says at last. “Knocked me out cold, so I don't remember too much. Not like I really need to – I've got all the evidence I need of it happening right here.” He turns his head, showing off the hole where his ear used to be. It looks clean, unbandaged, not very painful if his jokes and snide grin are anything to go off.

  Nonetheless, your heart skips at the sight of it; yet another moment where George needed your help and you weren't there to offer it.

  “Bloody hell, Georgie,” you whisper. “How many girls did you manage to bag with an injury like that?”

  George scoffs. “Not many, I'm afraid. Bit of a waste, I think.”

  “Definitely.”

  It's quiet for a moment. The wind whistles, and the birds chirp, and there's a gnome cursing beneath the dirt, but all you can focus on is the heavy presence of George standing beside you.

  Maybe it's not even George's presence you're focusing on. Maybe it's Fred's, because you know he's there. He's always there, making sure you and George don't step out of line or embarrass him, because now it's the job of his two closest confidants to carry on his legacy – Fred Weasley would want to keep an eye on that.

   “How are you feeling, Georgie?” you whisper, the silence suddenly too much when you think of Fred standing within it. It would never be silent if he was really here. Never. “How are you really feeling?”

  George takes a moment to answer. You glance over to see him nibbling his bottom lip, brown eyes trained on a spot in the garden where yet another gnome has just emerged and is scarping across the field to freedom. “I don't know.” He looks at you. He's taller now, so he has to look down. “What about you?”

  You shrug. “I've – I've definitely been better.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Percy hugged me.”

  “He hasn't been taking it well.”

  “I can't really blame him, poor git.”

  George chuckles; it's not a noise George usually makes, but you don't question it, knowing he isn't really himself right now.

  “The funeral's tomorrow,” he says after yet another pause. “I don't know how any of us are going to do it with dignity.”

  “Dignity isn't important at a funeral.”

  “You know full well Fred would take the mick out of us all if we showed up to his funeral sobbing our eyes out.”

  Your lips twitch, the first signs of a true smile you have worn in weeks. “I suppose so. But he's going to have to get over it, isn't he?”

  George chuckles. “You tell him, Y/N. You tell him.”

  You and George hang around the makeshift Quidditch pitch for only a few more minutes before you start back towards The Burrow; although neither of you want to acknowledge it, you have to get ready for the funeral tomorrow. Things have to be put in place for the small number of visitors who are due to arrive tomorrow morning – Fred, McGonagall, Oliver Wood, some other members of the old Quidditch team. Over the hill, you can see Molly already stressing out over everything that has to be put in place, and your heart aches for her.

  “She never slows down, your Mum,” you say before you can stop yourself.

  George hums, a fragile attempt at agreement. “Keeping busy helps take her mind off things, I think. It's when she stops that it all crashes down on her.”

  “Will she be okay tomorrow?”

  “No.”

   You're glad he isn't lying. At this moment in time, you can almost pretend it was all a dream; opening the letter, reading the news, having to come to terms with it all. None of it will truly be real until you've looked down and seen Fred's body for yourself, and maybe that's why you're dreading it so much. It's not the idea of seeing him – god, what you wouldn't give to see his smiling face one last time. It's the idea of no longer having that excuse. Once you've laid eyes on his body, any denial you have of his death will just be pitied.

  You and George head into the house and go your separate ways. You head into the bedroom you're sharing with Ginny and Hermione whilst George goes back to his own room; you don't think Molly bunked him up with anyone, considering the circumstances, and the thought of him sitting in Fred and George's room on his own makes your heart ache. You have half a mind to turn and go after him, but your plans are foiled when Ginny emerges from the bedroom and smiles warmly at you, despite the puffiness around her eyes.

  “Hey,” you say. “You alright?”

  “I was just coming to find you,” she replies. “Can we talk?”

  Anxiety prickles at your skin, but you nod and follow her into the bedroom anyway. Hermione is nowhere to be seen, though her funeral clothes have already been folded and stacked upon her camp bed, along with a packet of tissues and her wand.

  Ginny takes a seat on the end of her bed. You stand by the door, nervously biting your lip as you realise this is the first time you and Ginny have been alone since everything happened. You haven't had a proper chance to sit down with the youngest Weasley and ask her how she is truly feeling.

  Keeping her eyes on her freckled hands, she says, “Were you talking to George?”

  You tilt your head. “Y-yes. He came down to the Quidditch pitch – oh, uh – the fields, sorry, just to talk.”

  Ginny sighs, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes. She's clearly exhausted, no longer even trying to hide it. You have the urge to reach out and hug her, just as you would have done when she was younger, but Ginny has been through so much in the two years since you last seen her; she might not appreciate a hug any more, so you keep your distance.

  “And has he gone back to his room now?” she asks.

  “I think so. I think he's getting ready for. . . you know. . . tomorrow.”

  “He's not handling this well, Y/N.” She drops her hands into her lap, shaking her head grimly. “I know none of us are, but I've never seen George acting like this. The only person he's properly spoken to in three days is you.”

  Your heart lurches. “He's grieving, Ginny.”

  “We all are! We've all had to grieve before this, too.” She hollows out her cheeks, and it's only then do you spot the tears making their way to the surface of her eyes. “The Weasleys grieve together – that's how we've always done it. We're a family.”

  Something inside of you snaps. You dart forward, sitting down beside her and tugging her into your chest. It is there, wrapped tightly in your arms, that she finally lets go, sobbing into your collarbone with a ferocity you've never seen from her – not once. Not even when she used to take a tantrum every time one of her brothers got to go to Hogwarts and she didn't, not even when her cat passed away, not even when she was possessed by Lord Voldemort himself.

  She clings onto your jacket, trying to speak but being unable to do so past the sobs. You grip her tighter, stroking your hands through her red hair that hasn't been brushed in days. There are things to say, procedures to take when this kind of thing happens, but nothing you have been taught to say comes to the surface; she's heartbroken, utterly heartbroken, and you know why. Just because you're not sobbing doesn't mean you don't feel the same way.

  “Make sure George is okay,” she chokes out. “Please make sure I don't lose him, too.”

  You close your eyes, tears slipping from your eyes. “I will, mate. I'll – I'll try my best.”

  ---

  Everyone is here.

  You greet them all, because that's what is expected of you. They give you hugs and kisses on the cheek, because that's what is expected of them. Nobody wants to acknowledge the fact that nobody truly wants to be here; to the untrained eye, this gathering of black-clad wizards could very well be some kind of high school reunion.

  But it's not.

  A high school reunion would hold the air of memories, people rekindling, saying hello after a long time apart. This event holds the air of denial, sadness, saying goodbye to someone taken too soon.

  All morning you are busy taking over the jobs of Mr and Mrs Weasley; both of them are too shaky to function, though Molly tries her damned hardest to get out of her chair and do something. She ends up tipping a cup of coffee over poor Harry, and so you and the Weasley kids take over. This means you have barely any time to find George.

  He's not around. Ron told you he's still hiding in his room, not wanting to show his face until the very last minute.

  “You should go and talk to him,” says Ron, voice wobbling with the effort to keep the tears at bay. “He won't let anyone else in. Mum's tried, Dad's tried, I've given it a go.”

  You flick your wand, sending a chair across the grass where it lines up with the rest of them. “What makes you think I'll be any different?”

  “He likes talking to you. He only came out of his and Fred's-” Ron's eyes slip closed. He takes a deep breath before starting again. “He only came out of his room yesterday because he heard you arrived.”

  You bite your lip, flicking a glance back towards the house; his curtains are still shut. He might still be asleep and nobody would even know.

  You sigh, handing Ron the stack of napkins you were given. “I'll go see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, Y/N.”

  You nod and duck into the house, giving Oliver Wood a watery smile which he returns as best he can, hands trembling around a glass of pumpkin juice. You march upstairs before anyone else can see you, heading directly for the room at the end of the hallway.

  The glittering sign is still nailed to the door: Fred and George's Room. KEEP OUT!

  You wonder how long it will take for George to take that down – if he ever will.

  You knock softly and take a step back, folding your hands in front of you. For just a second, there is no answer, not even a call of Who's there? And you force yourself to step forward and knock again, a bit harder this time, lest he didn't hear you.

  Again, there is no response.

  Heart hammering, you do the last thing you can think of – you tap three times, pause, and then tap again. It's the secret knock the twins used to do on your door when they wanted you to come out with them past curfew, how you would know they were up to no good.

  There is a moments hesitation, and then, “Y/N?”

  You press your forehead against the door, relief flooding you. “Yes. It's me. Are you okay? Can I come in?”

  You pull away from the door just as it opens and George pokes his head out; his hair is still a mess, but he's wearing something other than pyjamas at least. His outfit consists of a white shirt tucked into a pair of black trousers, a black blazer hanging over one shoulder. Fred would be laughing if he could see him now.

  George gives you a tiny smile before moving out the way, offering you access. You hesitate, and George notices.

  “I know,” he mumbles. “You don't have to if you're not ready.”

  But he's been forced to sleep in this room since everything happened. He's had to endure that pain, so you will too. You brace yourself before stepping in, trying desperately to ignore the flip of your stomach, the sudden fight or flight response that is attacking your system at the sight of it all.

  The room has barely changed since the last time you stayed here nearly three summers ago. Two beds pressed against either wall, one perfectly made, the other slept in. Posters hang upon the walls of different Quidditch teams you remember they used to be mad over, and thrown in the midst of them all is a new poster you have never seen before – a poster dedicated to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

  “Mum made his bed the day we got back.” George's voice is fragile. You glance at him; he's still stood by the door, hands pushed into his pockets as he watches you wade around the room. “Fred never made his bed when he woke up, so she always used to do it for him.”

  You nod, remembering those summer mornings when all you could hear was Molly telling Fred off for – yet again – not making his bed.

  “Old habits die hard, huh?” you reply, and George hums his agreement. “Ron sent me up here to make sure you were ready.”

  George scoffs. His bed springs protest when he leaps onto his mattress. “You can go back down there and tell Ron to have a little patience. I'm fragile today.”

  “You are a little late, Georgie. Worryingly late; I thought you'd gone back to sleep.”

  George rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. You stand over his bed, arms folded over your chest. “I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have my brothers funeral to attend today.”

  You bite your lip. “You know, George...” And this is it. The sentence has started, and George's eyes have snapped to meet your own, waiting for you to finish whatever you have to say. “We're all grieving. A lot. A whole lot. But locking yourself away like this isn't going to help anything. It's not going to make anything easier. Not for you or anybody downstairs right now.”

  George stares at you, waiting for the punchline.

  “I'm serious.”

  He lifts his eyes back to the ceiling, wearing a frown you have not seen him wear in the many years you have known him. Your heart picks up, panic spiking at the idea of upsetting him; he's not going to listen to you, that much is clear. He hasn't listened to anybody else when being told the same thing, so why should you be any different?

  “Look, okay,” you hasten to add, “we'll go down there together, alright? You and me. You don't have to do this on your own.”

   “I don't want to go at all. I don't want to see him like that.”

  You sit down on the corner of his bed and grab his hand, pulling it onto your knee. The tears slip from the corners of his eyes, which he squeezes closed in an instant.

  “I know,” you mumble. “I don't, either. Nobody does. But once we've got this funeral out of the way, you're free to mourn however you want. It's over then; Fred will be peaceful, and we can . . . we can move on. We can try and move on. That's what he'd want us to do.”

  George's shoulders jerk, a silent sob. Tears of your own flood your eyes. You grab his shoulders and pull him up, pulling him into a hug that reminds you so much of last night, the exact same scene but a different Weasley sibling. You just want to comfort them all; you want to round up each and every one of them and pull them into this embrace, let them know it will all be okay and you will not leave them to suffer on their own, not like last time. You will be there for all of them through everything if they'll let you.

  George's arms wrap around your middle. He rests his head on your shoulder, stifling his sobs as best he can; he's better at it than Ginny, who all but wailed into your collarbone yesterday evening. George doesn't want to be seen like this, but it's clear he can't hold back any more.

  “It's okay,” you whisper. “It'll be fine. We'll go downstairs together.”

  He nods, pulling away slowly. He bites his lip, glances at your shoulder and says, “I got tears on your shirt.”

  You shake your head, brushing his hair out of his face with trembling hands. “Don't worry about it. Fred would say it adds flare.”

  “He would,” George chokes out. “He really would.”

  And so, the two of you stand and head towards the door, hand-in-hand. George hesitates before shutting his bedroom door behind him, and you pretend not to see the way he gently runs his fingers over Fred's name engraved in the metal sign.

  You walk downstairs slowly. Heads start turning when you appear in the doorway of the kitchen, George all-but cowering behind you, his hand still in your own. You run your thumb along his knuckles, giving his awaiting family members a smile despite their eyes all being trained on George.

  Molly is the first one to run forward. A cry escapes her lips, and you have only seconds to jump out of the way before she barrels through the doorway and into George's arms; George grunts, stumbling before he catches his balance and hugs his mother back with just as much enthusiasm as she is showing. You slowly remove yourself from the scene, letting the rest of the Weasley family file in to mimic their mothers actions.

  “So you did it,” Harry says when you find yourself standing at the back of the room with him. “You got him to come downstairs.”

  “He just needed some coaxing,” you reply, wiping your eyes. “Is Fred here?”

  “Kingsley's just brought his body back.” Harry nods out the window, but you don't follow his gesture because you know exactly what is going to be there; the back garden, chairs all lined up, Fred's casket set up at last. You can only imagine that is the reason the Weasley family is stood inside – they don't want to be around it any longer than they have to be.

  But they cannot hold off forever. Arthur and Molly head out first, Arthur with his arm around Percy's shoulders, Molly holding Ginny's hand. Together, the Weasleys take their seats at the very front of the garden, each sobbing quietly into handkerchiefs and sleeves and partners' shoulders. You, Harry and Hermione take the seats directly behind them whilst everyone else files in behind you.

  And you see him up there, eyes closed, hair styled, suit perfectly pressed. His hands have been folded on his chest, and his wand has been tucked into his fingers. Standing beside his casket is a picture of him and George – because there is not a picture in existence where the two of them are on their own, not one – and Fred is pulling a funny face whilst George looks off into the distance, oblivious to the photo being taken.

  It hurts. It hurts worse than you ever imagined it would, but you can't bring yourself to cry – not whenever his body is right there in front of you. Fred used to chastise you every time he saw you cry, swat you over the shoulder, make some wise-crack comment along the lines of, “What do you have to cry about? You have me!”

  You always did have him. You always will have him, as long as you keep his memory alive.

  Kingsley says a few words, kind words that speak of Fred's bravery and his knowledge and how he did not die in vain. They sound so official coming from him now that he's the temporary Minister of Magic, but you know for a fact Fred would have appreciated it, scripted or not. Oliver Wood says some things, and Molly and Arthur try their hardest to get some words out about their son, but it doesn't go to plan and they end up just sitting down, passing the baton onto Percy who makes a big, emotional speech about how he and Fred didn't always get along, and how he's glad they managed to find peace with each other during those last few hours of complete turmoil within the Hogwarts castle.

  George doesn't make a speech. Neither do you.

  The funeral ends with the burning of the body. Kingsley waves his wand and the white curtains fall from nowhere, closing around the casket, and soon, the only thing you can see is the smoke billowing from the top of them. The air suddenly erupts with the smell of black current – one of Fred's favourite scents – and people are standing, giving each other hugs, crying.

  You and George stay seated, him directly in front of you. You don't tap his shoulder, don't move, don't say anything at all – you just watch his shoulders rise and fall as he tries desperately to keep his breathing slow and steady. He's staring at his brothers casket like he can't quite believe it's there, and you don't blame him, because you're feeling the same way.

  How can a ten minute ceremony be enough to celebrate the life of someone like Fred Weasley? How can a few words passed between people who knew him be enough to remember the wonders he discovered, the joy and laughter he brought upon so, so many lives? It doesn't seem possible. It's ludicrous, completely unfair, and suddenly the sadness you have felt since hearing the news is morphing into anger, and you have the urge to just scream, to just let your lungs rip in half with the fury that rushes through you at a million miles per hour.

  But in real life, you're rooted to your seat, fingers curling against the back of George's chair, staring at the smoke rising high, high, higher into the air, disappearing amongst the clouds – Fred's final resting place.

  George stands up.

  It's so abrupt. It takes you a second to even comprehend what he is doing as his chair tips back against your knees, only failing to fall due to you still being seated behind it. Your head snaps up, mouth opening to call him back, but you don't get a chance to say anything before Angelina Johnson is grabbing you and pulling you to your feet, into an embrace you were not prepared for in the slightest.

  “Oh, Y/N, I knew you'd be here! I knew you'd make it! Fred would have been so happy to see you and George back together again!”  You laugh awkwardly, watching George march up to The Burrow over her shoulder.

  ----

  George doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the day.

  The guests Disapparate, giving the Weasleys some much needed time and space after the exhausting day they have just performed. You, Harry and Hermione head up to bed for the same reason, crowding in Harry and Ron's room for a few hours before you and Hermione excuse yourselves for the night.

  Hermione is asleep in minutes, and you can't really blame her. Not only has that girl gone to hell and back these past few days, she's also had to deal with the additional baggage of death. She has fought absolute monsters, seen things no person of her age should ever see, had to think quicker than anyone just to stay alive – and now that it's over, she's been given the additional task of mourning people she loves.

  You, however, struggle to close your eyes without the thoughts flooding your mind, making you restless. You keep remembering his body, the tip of his nose peaking out from the casket, the smoke that billowed, the smell of black current that was surely conjured to hide the smell of Fred's burning flesh; god, you want to throw up. You feel ill, and angry, and you want to punch something so, so desperately.

  Back in your school days, George taught you how to use Quidditch as a way to get your anger out; he and Fred had been the best Beaters the Gryffindor had ever seen, and they claim it was solely because they got themselves riled up before a game. They would make themselves so angry that the idea of volleying a heavy ball at someone was all that could calm them down again.

  That's what you need right now; a good game of Quidditch, a Bludger to just annihilate someone. But you have none of that; all you have right now is your pillow, which you shove your fist into multiple times over now with no results. Your stomach still feels tight, and tears are still threatening to reach the surface, and you're beginning to lose hope that you'll ever feel calm and collected ever again.

  The clock has struck four am when you finally give up trying to sleep. You slip your feet into a pair of carpet slippers – courtesy of Hermione – and head downstairs, pulling a dressing gown on as you do so. The kitchen is barren, the sun just starting to peak over the green hills surrounding the cosy cottage. From the window you can see a garden gnome furiously kick a wicket chair before howling in pain and bouncing back into the floor to go and huff on its own.

  You head outside. The fresh air feels nice on your skin – cold, but it's enough to bring you back to reality a little bit. You walk across the garden, and before you know why, you're sitting down in the very same chair you sat in whilst watching people talk about your dead best friend, like you want to relive that moment all over again.

  But this time you're on your own. It's just you and the chairs, and the odd garden gnome that sprints across the grass, sees you and then sprints in the other direction. You fold your legs over one another, stare at the space Fred's casket once stood, and then you start speaking.

  “Miss you, buddy.” It starts as a whisper, hoarse and fragile. “Thank you, for everything. Fighting for the sake of the world – you're braver than me. I couldn't have done it. I was – I was hiding away in my flat, pretending nothing was happening, convincing myself you two weren't stupid enough to get yourself into any danger.” You close your eyes, tilting your head back, talking directly to him now. “Nothing feels right any more, Fred. The world isn't meant to be without a Fred Weasley. George isn't meant to be without a Fred Weasley. God, I'm not meant to be without a Fred Weasley.”

  The tears start trickling, running quickly down your cheeks and disappearing within the corners of your mouth.

  “I'll make sure he's okay, Freddie,” you whisper. “George, I mean. We'll keep each other sane, I promise. You can watch over us and – and make sure w-we keep each other in ch-check. I won't let him out of my sight ever again.”

  “Y/N?”

  Your head snaps up, eyes opening. Standing in the pink light of the slowly rising sun is George Weasley, wand in hand, still dressed in the very same clothes he was wearing earlier. His tie has been pulled loose from its knot and is now cascading messily down his middle, a few of his buttons undone, his hair back to being a disgruntled mess.

  You stand up. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “You sound like Filch.” He tilts his head to the side, just enough to let you see the bags under his eyes. “What are you doing?”

   You awkwardly kick at the ground. “Nothing.”

  “Mhm.” George walks over, examining each of the chairs as he does so. “You were talking to him, weren't you?”

  You don't reply; he knows. You don't feel a need to confirm it for him, not when he probably heard every single thing you said.

  “I can't do it,” he continues. “It feels weird not having him say the exact same thing as me. My voice isn't meant to be on its own.”

  “Yeah,” you croak out. “I noticed that, too.”

  “I'll get past it,” he mumbles. “I just. . . I just wanted everyone to leave today, you know? I didn't want all these people in my house, staring at my brothers dead body, crying over him like that. This was supposed to be a family event.”

  A tinge of guilt stamps an imprint into your heart. “Right. Should Harry, Hermione and I have left?”

  George purses his lips. “You guys are family – it's everyone else I was a bit iffy with.”

  And maybe it's the anger from earlier that boils over now. Maybe it's the reminder that George left – halfway through his brothers funeral, he got up and left his family, his grieving family, to deal with everything. You know he's upset, heartbroken, downright traumatised, but so is everyone else. Nobody is taking this lightly. Nobody was here today just for the sake of it.

  You curl your hands into fists. “George, you're being really selfish right now.”

  His head snaps up. “What?”

  “How can you sit there and say you wish those people who came today had just stayed home? Do you think they wanted to be in this situation any more than you did? God, You-Know-Who was killed a few days ago – people want to be out celebrating their freedom, not going to the funeral of one of their friends. None of this is easy on anyone, so it's really bloody ungrateful of you to say they should have just stayed home, because I'm almost positive that's what most of them wanted to be doing in the first place!”

   George's eyes cloud over. “Fred wouldn't have wanted the Ministry taking over his funeral.”

  “Kingsley knew Fred just as well as I did!”

  “No he didn't! You and Fred were best friends – Kingsley was part of the Order. That's how he knew Fred – through business! That isn't a bloody friendship!”

  “So, what? Kingsley should have just moved on, walked away whenever he looked down and saw Fred's body that day in the castle, huh? Because god forbid somebody grieve if they don't know someone for more than seven years!”

  George throws his hands in the air, face beaming red. “You're putting words in my mouth now, you are. You know that's not what I meant-”

  “Yeah? Well, maybe you should learn how to word things better, because at the minute you're sounding like an absolute arse!”

  George opens his mouth to respond, but you're crying. You're crying, and you can't stop it, and you don't want him to see you like this. You dart off before he can get the words out, cracking your shoulder against his before picking up your pace to a run, darting back towards the house. Behind you, George calls your name, but you don't listen. You shove past Charlie, who stands in the kitchen door with a mug of coffee, and head directly to your room, not wanting to talk to anyone.

  ---

  Charlie comes to visit you a few hours later.

  It's eight o'clock now; Hermione has risen, said good morning and headed off to help Mrs Weasley make breakfast. You stayed huddled under the covers, using the excuse of exhaustion as a way to get her to leave without worrying too much; as soon as she was gone, you had pulled yourself from your bed and headed to the window, where you have been for a while now, dreading the moment you will have to go downstairs and face George again.

  Charlie knocks softly on your door before letting himself in. He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants this morning along with an oversized jacket. His skin has been paler since he came home from Romania, since his little brother died, since it felt as if his world was falling apart. This morning, he looks a bit better, as if the relief of having finally set Fred free was a weight from his shoulders.

  “Morning,” he says. “You alright?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine. You?”

  He closes the door and walks to your side, placing his head against the wall as he, too, takes to gazing out the window. “I'm good. Better than I was yesterday. Worse than I'll probably be tomorrow.”

  “What a Charlie way to answer that question.”

  He smiles before nudging your arm. “You gonna talk to me about what happened this morning?”

  You purse your lips and look away. Charlie gazes at you, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you don't really know what he wants to hear – that you're sorry? That you were tired and heartbroken and it just kind of happened all at once, a jumbled mess you couldn't quite keep track of?

  That's not what it was at all. It was the truth spilling from your lips, though you will admit you now wish you could have executed it with a little bit more sympathy. George, the man who has been your best friend for so many years, didn't deserve that kind of treatment – not after everything. Not when there's still so much more to come.

  Charlie sighs, folding his muscled arms across his chest. “You know George loves you, right?”

  “And I love him.”

  Charlie pauses, contemplative. “I just – I don't know what you two were arguing about, but I think it would be a real shame for George to lose two loved ones, which is what is going to happen if you don't talk to each other. Do you want to cut ties with him?”

  Your head snaps up. “No! No, of course not. Look, Charlie, the argument wasn't even that serious. We just-”

  “If it wasn't that serious, then why did George punch a whole in the dry wall when I tried to ask him what happened?”

  You pause, mouth running dry. Charlie raises a brow, leaning against the wall. Your voice is quiet when you say, “He did what?”

  “He punched a hole in the wall. Tried to punch me, too.” He sighs. “Obviously, a scrawny little git like him compared to me didn't get very far, but it was the intent that shocked me; George hasn't got a violent bone in his body. Not a properly violent one, anyway – a few dangerous pranks here and there, but he would never want to genuinely fight someone. I think this whole thing is getting to him – and bad. The only time he's been calm is when you've been in his bloody eyeline.”

  “He tried punching you?”

  Charlie waves a dismissive hand. “That isn't the part of that speech I wanted you to pick up on.”

 You close your eyes, pressing your head against the window. “I lost my temper, started an argument with him for no reason. I should have realised he's not in the right head space – he isn't talking right, Charlie. He isn't himself.”

  “Well, no, I wouldn't say he is.” Charlie leans forward. “But right now, the only person getting through to him is you. How I see it, you're the only person who's going to drag him through this before he hurts himself or somebody else.”

   “That's a lot of pressure, Charlie.”

  “Has it been difficult talking to him since you got here?”

  “No.”

 “Then you're fine. Just keep doing what you're doing.” Charlie stands up straight, brushing his hands down his jacket as he does so. “Mum said breakfast is gonna be ready in a few minutes if you're feeling hungry. If not, don't tell her that or she'll be up here in two seconds flat with the thermometer out; she did it to Ron a few days ago, gave him a right telling off when it turned out he just wanted to stay in bed for a bit longer.”

  You nod, giving him a warm, grateful smile as he walks out of the room.

  You give his words thorough thought; though your brain is no less exhausted, and your heart no less broken, you can see where you went wrong now better than you would have been able to at four this morning; Charlie has helped you realise that perhaps everyone needs to be a bit patient with each other right now, needs to learn how to put themselves in other people's shoes.

  You get changed and head downstairs. Sure enough, breakfast is already being served, and everyone besides George is already sitting round the table. You take a seat next to Hermione and tuck in, trying to regain some energy sapped due to your lack of sleep.

  Once breakfast is finished, you head straight to George's room. Charlie gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up when he turns away from the washing up basin and sees you heading upstairs; you give him a smile, though a nervous one.

  You have to do this now. You have to talk to him, tell him you're sorry, explain yourself a bit better than you did earlier, and if you don't do it now, you're going to back out and you won't ever do it. And so, you reach his door and do the secret knock that granted you access yesterday, and you wait.

  There's a shuffling on the other side, followed shortly by George's soft voice calling, “What?”

  “Hey, mate. Can I come in and talk to you for a minute?” You wince at how formal you sound – this is George you're speaking to, your best mate, the person you've grown up with. “Please?”

  “You're just gonna tell me off again, aren't you?”

  “No, George, don't be daft. Open the bloody door, or-”

  “Yeah, yeah, shut up.” The door opens, revealing the exhausted looking George. He isn't smiling, but instead keeps his eyes narrowed when he looks at you. “Do you wanna come in, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don't ask for much, do you?” He rolls his eyes and steps out of the way, granting you access to the room that still sends eerie chills racing along your arms, because Fred is no longer occupying it, too.

  You push these thoughts from your brain and enter, immediately spinning around with your arms folded. “Our argument was stupid.”

  George falters, one hand still secure round the doorknob. “Come again?”

  “Everything I said to you was stupid, and said in a fit of blind rage. I didn't mean it. Not really.”

  “Right...”

 “So, yeah.” You nod, glance around the room once before saying, “That's all I wanted to say.”

  “Is it now?”

  “Yes. I'll see you at lunch if you fancy coming down for a bit of food. If not, I'll – uh – see you when I-” You try to step around him, but he's quicker, blocking the door. You bite your lip. “George-”

  “Nothing you said earlier was wrong, you know.”

   You lift your eyes, and the tension in the room suddenly becomes a physical thing. He's staring down at you, that exhausted look in his eyes that he's worn for weeks pushed to the forefront. His lips are still chapped, and his knuckles are white around the handle of the door. You want to push his hair out of his face, but you're scared he'll push you away or cringe from your touch if you even try.

  “I was being a selfish little git when I walked off, and I should have been – should have been thankful to have so many people come out to send Fred off. He would have liked that, I think, having a crowd around him.”

  You laugh softly. “He always did enjoy the attention; you both did.”

 “Oi.” He nudges your shoulder. “You were part of our group, you know. You liked the attention just as much as we did.”

  And he isn't wrong. So many pranks, so many years of getting into trouble, so many years filled with laughter. When it felt like the world was falling apart, when your parents stopped talking to you, stopped asking you to come home for Christmas, stopped sending you owls – it was Fred and George who reminded you that you didn't need anyone. You were perfect on your own.

  “I agree that our argument was stupid,” he says softly. “But you were right.”

  “I shouldn't have made you feel bad-”

  “You could never make me feel bad. Not with a voice like that.”

  You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder. He laughs, stumbling back into the door. You realise with a jolt that this is the first time you've heard him laugh since you arrived at The Burrow, and it seems as if George is realising this too. His smile fades uncertainly, as if he's not allowed to let himself laugh, not allowed to let himself smile when Fred isn't around to join in.

  You tilt your head to the side. “Well that's a step in the right direction.”

  He closes his eyes. “I haven't had the chance to tell you how happy I am that you're here.”

   “Of course I'm here. I would never miss-”

  “No, I know.” He opens his eyes and shrugs. “I'm glad you're here to – like – mourn Fred and all that, but I'm glad you're here for me. Most people would have given up on me by now. Nobody would have bothered putting me in my place.”

  You shudder, can hardly help it when you're hearing him speak like this; it's so weird, so not what you're used to, but it hits a nerve nonetheless. You have the sudden urge to throw your arms around him, to pull him in for a hug that means more than just It's going to be okay.

  “I'm a complete state when you are here, but I wouldn't even function if you weren't,” he continues, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Everyone's told you that already, though, haven't they?”

  You bite your lip to suppress the giggle. “I've heard I've been a good helping hand.”

  George rolls his eyes. “Don't let it go to your head. No one likes an arrogant bastard.”

  Your grin breaks to the surface before you can stop it. It feels weird upon your face after spending so long believing you would never smile again, and yet with George stood in front of you, it couldn't make more sense. You're brought back to your Hogwarts days, when this very smile would never leave your face, was a permanent fixture to your expression. And it doesn't feel like you're back there – it will never feel like that again, not with Fred missing – but it's a start. It's the first step back into the normal world.

  Looking up at George's smile now makes you feel like you're walking back into it, slowly, with George by your side.

  ----

  “So what's the point of all this then?” you ask, struggling to fight your way through the crowd of screaming school kids.

  George moves with such grace, not even pausing when a group of kids nearly bowl him over in their struggle to reach the Pigmy Puff pens on the other side of the shop. He's grinning from ear to ear as he walks, his fancy, dragon skin blazer billowing out around him.

  “This, my dear Y/N, is what Fred and I have built from the ground up – and we're about to take it to the next level.”

   You raise a brow at his back. “Oh?”

  “Oh, indeed!” He hurries up a flight of winding stairs and stops at the top. He spins and smiles at you, pulling a sheet of paper from his blazer pocket with that dramatic flair you love so much. “Have a read of this and tell me how proud you are of me, right now. Quickly!”

  You roll your eyes, snatching the parchment and unrolling it. At the very top are the words Dear Mr and Mr Weasley, followed by the announcement that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will be opening a shop in multiple areas around England and Northern Ireland.

  Your eyes widen, snapping back up to George who is staring at you fixedly, waiting for your reaction. You don't even have words. All you can do is stare at him, jaw open, hands beginning to tremble.

  George glances at your shaking hands and laughs, rushing down the steps towards you. He snatches the parchment back and bundles you in his arms, laughing brightly into your hair.

  “Don't show too much excitement, Y/N, we're in public!”

   “George Weasley, you brilliant old git!” You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head in his chest, and together, the two of you laugh – you just laugh, unable to fully process that this tiny little business Fred and George have always dreamed about will finally be taking off, dotting itself around the globe for wizards everywhere to enjoy.

  You pull away from the celebration and yank the parchment back, giving it yet another read. “Mr and Mr Weasley – you and Fred?”

  “Of course,” George confirms. “I sent the request letter in using both of our names – it didn't feel right just signing it with my name and my name only. Fred would kill me if I did that.”

  “Aye, it's better not to take the risk. I'm still convinced he's punishing me for ordering that BBQ base pizza the other night.”

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  You reread the contract over and over again, grin getting wider every single time. It gets to the point where George groans and has to pry it from your hands, getting tired of watching you read the same sentence over and over again.

  You look at him and shake your head. “It's so cool that I'm able to say my best friend is a businessman. A real life businessman.”

  George cocks a brow. “You're gonna use me to make yourself look good, are you?”

  “You still owe me for that time I got you out of detention with Umbridge – it's the least you can do.”

  George laughs, bundling you in his arms again. “Just remember to mention Fred when you're giving us the good reviews – he'd appreciate it.”

   And you know, somewhere out there, Fred is nodding, saying, “You've done a brilliant job, Georgie.”

[shutupandshipit]

Sharpen your blades - Ch.3

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 3/20

Previously <- Chapter 2: Refusal

Chapter 4: Fear -> Next

Author’s Note: Sorry, I 100% forgot to post yesterday, but I’m only a day late. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Training

Izuku was still in bed when his mom tapped on his door. After his injury and the subsequent surgeries, he rarely left his room unless he was going to school, physical therapy, or struggling through his chores. His hip, ankle and wrist were all weak, and his doctors still weren’t sure when or if he’d be able to do anything more than a fast walk.

Tearing his eyes from the video of Katsuki’s latest first place performance, he said, “Come in.”

Inko’s dark head poked around the door, an uncertain smile gracing her lips. “Hey, baby, there’s some people here to see you. I don’t know if you’re up for visitors.

With a grunt, Izuku pushed himself up against his headboard. “Who is it?” he asked, running a hand through his unruly curls.

“They say they’re coaches, and there’s a doctor with them. Um, Toshinori and Aizawa?”

Izuku almost swallowed his tongue. Through his choking, he gasped, “Like Toshinori Yagi and Aizawa Shouta?” He tossed back his sheets only to realize that he was still in his pajamas that were several days old, sweat stained and wrinkled. Then his eyes jumped up to the walls of his room, papered from one end to the other with posters of Toshinori when he’d still been skating competitively. There was a singular embarrassing photo of him and Aizawa the single time they’d partnered for a showcase.

What made it embarrassing wasn’t the fact that it was on his wall, but the fact that it was a blurry screenshot blown up to the point that it was almost unrecognizable.

“They can’t come in here!”

“Then come out here. They’re having tea right now.”

“I-I-” Izuku tried to think of an excuse, a reason not to see them. There was no reason two of the Skating Commission’s top coaches should be in his home. Why would they waste their time talking to someone as broken as him? He didn’t want to hear anything they had to say when they saw just how bad he was. He didn’t want to see the looks on their faces.

He frowned at the black mood that started to creep over him as it often did since his injury, sapping his energy and life until he felt barely human at all. When he glanced up, there were blue eyes looking at him over Inko’s head. Squeaking, he scrambled for his blankets.

Inko released a very similar noise to her omega son when she glanced around. Pushing into the room in a desperate attempt to get away from the hulking alpha, she left the door open.

Toshinori raised a placating hand, smiling. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you, just came to check. My name is Toshinori Yagi.”

“I know,” Izuku whispered before he realized that it might have sounded rude, cheeks heating as he glanced around the room at all his figure skating paraphernalia. He swallowed, sucking down a mouthful of the alpha’s sweet pound cake scent. He'd thought the blogs had been lying about his scent, and his mind reeled with this new information. “I’m just… not sure why you’re here.”

The smile never left Toshinori’s face. “Please, come out and we’ll explain. Chiyo would like to take a look at you as well.”

Izuku swallowed again, eyes wide as he stared. “Like Shuzeji Chiyo? The famous sports medicine doctor that put you back on the ice? Why…” He stopped, taking in Toshinori’s face again. Biting his lip, he shuffled to the edge of the bed and slowly eased his legs onto the floor. Inko immediately passed him his cane, and he grunted as he leaned into it heavily. “Okay. I’ll come out.”

Inko trailed closely behind him, ready to catch him if he stumbled. He could feel the burn of Toshinori’s eyes as he passed, and he couldn’t help the flush that colored his cheeks. He loved his mom, adored her more than anything else in the world, but at that moment, he felt a twinge of animosity rise from the black pool in his chest. He wished she wouldn’t shadow him like a just born calf, didn’t care half as much as she did.

He dismissed that thought as soon as he had it. Without his mother, he didn’t want to imagine where he’d be. Dead in a ditch probably.

It was slow going to the chairs that Inko had set out across the coffee table from the couch. Their couch wasn’t made for three bodies to sit on, but their visitors seemed to be comfortable enough as Izuku eased himself down into a chair. He didn’t release his cane, but instead held it more tightly as he glanced from the exhausted looking Aizawa Shouta to the ever chipper Shuzenji Chiyo and finally to the similarly sunny yet nervous Toshinori Yagi.

“Um, hello,” he murmured awkwardly after a moment, reaching out a hand, “I’m Midoriya Izuku. I’m sorry to be so forward, but I’m not really sure why you are all here.”

“Thought it was obvious,” Aizawa said, voice deep and deeply uninterested in the proceedings, “We’re here to recruit you for Yuuei’s newest generation of skaters. All we need is a yes or a no.”

Izuku’s hand tightened, knuckles going white. He glanced from one passive face to the next. “The doctors said I’d never skate again. They don’t even think I’ll be able to run again.” Biting at the inside of his cheek, he did his best to force back the heat pressing in at his eyes.

Shuzenji's smile widened. “That’s why I’m here, young man. I’ve gotten skaters with some rather nasty injuries back on the ice. Take Toshinori for example. Do you have your x-rays over the course of your recovery? And the first. I’d like to take a look if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Inko said before Izuku could even look at her. She jumped up from her seat and hurried down the hall to her room.

“Why is Yuuei looking for a new skating team? They already have one with a lot of really strong skaters.”

“Right,” Toshinori said, jumping into the conversations before Aizawa could answer, “but a lot of them are nearing the end of their competitive careers or are planning to go solo. Within the next ten years or sooner, all of them will be officially retired from the competitive circuit. So, we have to start training the next generation to take their places.”

Inko returned with a thick manila folder, and Shuzenji jumped down to take her into the kitchen where there was better light.

Izuku was quiet for a moment, listening to the quiet murmur of the two women. “So, why me? Even if I can skate again, it’s going to take a long time before I can compete again. I’m not even sure how you found me. My recent track record hasn’t been good.”

“Which is fine because we’re really interested in the team as competitors for senior divisions, not juniors. Yes, there was a decline in your performance over the past two years, but before that, you and your partner were making remarkable headway as competitors. We’d already had our eye on you two, and we were disappointed when you didn’t get a chance to go singles. We’ve already talked to Bakugou, and he’s agreed to join us.”

Izuku flinched at the mention of Katsuki, seeing all over again the look of horror and disgust on his face as Izuku lay broken on the ice just before he passed out. “I’m not skating pairs again. I want to skate singles.”

“That’s what Bakugou said as well,” Aizawa said, sitting forward to lace his fingers between his knees, “Good thing we’re only looking for singles. Yuuei isn’t known for pairs. One day, we might include them, but for the time being, there’s no reason to.”

“Good news, young man, I believe you’ll be able to get back on the ice by year’s end provided we change and increase your physical therapy,” Shuzenji called as she came back out of the kitchen, Inko trailing behind with tears wetting her cheeks. “Even if it’s not by the end of your year, you’ll definitely be able to skate again. Your breaks were a little messy and your dislocations bad, but everything seems to be healing well. Your doctors just have you doing the wrong kind of therapy. It’ll be hard work, but I have no doubt you can get through it.”

Swallowing, Izuku met Aizawa’s and Toshinori’s eyes again. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

…..

October Week 2

The music cut off suddenly. Izuku stumbled across the ice, toe pick catching and sending him sprawling.

“Midoriya,” Todoroki said, at his elbow in a moment with his peculiar snow and orchid scent.

Izuku accepted the helping hand, panting hard as sweat dripped down the side of his face and neck. He wiped at it with the sleeve of his shirt, dropping his hands to his knees.

“Maybe you should take a break. You haven’t stopped moving since we started, and you feel warmer than normal. Are you about to start your heat? You shouldn’t be on ice if you’re in pre-heat.”

Perceptive Todoroki, or maybe it was just an omega thing. Either way, Izuku quickly shook his head. Actually, when Izuku had looked at the figure skating calendar taped to his fridge, he’d been surprised to not only find that today was the start of week two of training, but also that there was a red line stretching for seven days into the third week of October. Izuku had immediately popped a suppressant, and went about his day.

He couldn’t be focussing on anything other than training. He just didn’t have the time.

“No, I’m fine. Just tired. This routine is going to be hard.” Izuku smiled up at his friend, but Todoroki’s mismatched eyes looked skeptical at best.

They stood up straight as Aizawa’s voice echoed through the rink. “That’s it for today. Pack up and get out, or don’t. I don’t care. We’re in the studio tomorrow. Don’t be late, or Nemuri isn’t going to be happy.” He turned from the rink entrance, striding away and not giving them time to ask him any questions.

The team met on ice only three times a week, in the studio twice for off ice training, and once at a nearby track for cardio and calisthenics. When they trained together, it was never more than three hours long. Any other training they did was on their own around jobs and college. Aizawa had supplied them with keys to the rink -perks of being the city’s official skating team-, but as far as he knew, Izuku was the only one who actively practiced every single day and often multiple times a day.

Izuku and Todoroki glided smoothly to the entrance with the rest of their teammates, but where the rest grabbed their guards and chattered loudly about classes and work and ‘I’m never going to get that jump down before December!’, Izuku remained on ice. “Chako, can you hand me my headphones and cell?”

Uraraka glanced over at him, cheeks flushed more pink than normal. “You’re not coming? We were going to get ramen. Just us omega.”

“Ah, no, I’m going to stay here a little longer. There’s still some things I wanted to go over.”

With a sigh, she reached into his bag behind her, easily finding the items along with the suppressants he kept in a plastic bag in case of emergencies. She stared at the pills, eyebrows pulling together as she frowned.

“Just vitamins!” he said too quickly and too loudly, leaning over the wall to grab his cell and headphones, “Thanks! Have a good time at ramen! I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Shoving the buds into his ears and away from the wall, he slid back toward center ice where he stood to fiddle with his playlists.

Besides skating, he didn’t really do much else. He ran a figure skating blog where he posted videos of his own routines and lessons on how to perform different techniques and jumps. He also posted analyses on the wider skating world or particularly interesting foot work from other ice sports, ice skating events taking place across the globe, figure skaters’ costumes, ice skates, and so on. If it had anything to do with figure skating or putting blade to ice, it would inevitably end up on his blog one way or another. He earned enough from the blog to cover his living expenses and put some into savings. Everything else was covered by the wildly popular figure skating podcast he co-hosted where he got a kickback from the sponsorship deals and whatever merchandise they were able to sell. Since Izuku had also started helping with merchandise designs and marketing, they’d started to actually sell out of things.

One day, if Toshinori and Aizawa ever agreed, he wanted to be the first to write the autobiography detailing their brief yet bright partnership.

It only took the rest of the team ten minutes to clear out of the rink. Before the doors slammed closed, his friends called, “Bye, Deku! See you tomorrow! Go home soon!”

He waved his own goodbye. With a sigh of relief, he pressed play.

It was only when Izuku was alone on ice late at night with music in his ears and losing track of time that he was well and truly happy. With the others on ice, there was always the looming black cloud, the sense of dread, the reminder that Katsuki would be back from his rut sooner rather than later and at some point it would have to be him and Katsuki on ice together again. He didn’t hate the thought, but he did hate the anxiety it invoked within him.

Pushing away everything bad floating around in his chest, Izuku allowed himself to just enjoy the monotony of practice. One technique at a time. One song at a time. One leg at a time. The hours fell away, and outside, the sky fell dark.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he caught a flash of blond hair, broad shoulders covered in black and an orange bag out of the corner of his eye. He stumbled out of his spin and hit the ice, the impact jarring straight up his spine. Scrambling, he looked toward the rink entrance just in time to catch the double doors clicking softly closed.

The timer on his phone to switch techniques chimed.

…..

Katsuki let out an explosive sigh as he stepped out of his apartment building, breath pluming in the chilly night air.

Katsuki hated his ruts. Realistically, if the laws allowed him to, he could be a functioning member of everyday society during his ruts, at least he thought so. No one seemed to agree with him. Not his mother, his father or any of his friends. For some reason, they all seemed to think Katsuki had violent enough ruts to destroy his apartment. None of them had ever seen his apartment after a rut, and they never would as long as he had a say, not with the lingering scent of desperation and sex clinging to the walls.

His ruts weren’t violent, but they were boring as hell.

Adjusting his skating bag across his back and tightening the strap across his chest, he took off at a sharp clip towards the rink. He didn’t live far which he’d done on purpose rather than by accident. The nerd lived in the same building for the same reason. Katsuki should know, he’d been the one to discreetly leave a flyer with the words “Within walking distance of the famous Yuuei skating rink” bolded across the front in Izuku’s bag just before they’d graduated high school.

For an entire week, Katsuki was cooped up in his small one bedroom apartment. He wasted away the hours working out, cleaning incessantly, and binging hours of figure skating videos for inspiration for his own routines.

Katsuki had to deal with the typical rut related issues like getting hard every hour and the insistent heat that lived rent free beneath his skin that only made him feel like he was sweating to death. Even with all of his apartment windows thrown wide to invite in the plummeting autumn air, he left damp palm prints on everything . It was fucking maddening. The near painful erections that he ignored for as long as possible and the even more painful orgasms that followed were the bane of his existence. He did pretty much everything to avoid having to touch himself until there was literally no way around it.

The cold stung his lungs, and he inhaled greedily. His muscles, despite being exhausted from the long week, warmed quickly to the familiarity of running.

Here was the thing, Katsuki was a fully functioning adult male who enjoyed sex and the occasional jerk session as much as the next, but during his ruts, each orgasm just heaped disappointment on him and made him more irritable than he already would have been.

He wasn’t an aggressive rutter by any means -no torn bedding or holes in pillows or cracked plaster walls-, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed them. He would have dealt with them better if he was allowed on the ice.

There were suppressants he could use with various effects. To make his ruts shorter, happen only twice a year compared to four, eradicate them completely. Beside the host of physical side effects, he’d seen first hand what they’d done to Izuku. He wasn’t ashamed to say he wanted nothing to do with them.

Katsuki dug out the keys Aizawa had given him as he neared the rink, pulling off his gloves with his teeth one after the other. He didn’t normally practice late at night. It was easier to practice early in the morning to accommodate the rest of his schedule; training with the team, his modelling gig, the classes he taught for young athletes, and his own schooling. It wasn’t normal for him to practice at night, but he was making an exception. He wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he tried. Not literally right after his rut ended.

When he stepped through the double doors to the rink, he wasn’t expecting to find the rink lights still on and the smooth sound of blades biting into ice.

Doing his best not to be seen, he looked out onto the ice.

Wild green curls and elegant movements greeting him. Izuku moved on the ice like he’d been born skating. Even though he was gliding in a simple circle, round and round with one foot held off the ice in front of him, he was mesmerizing. His eyes were downcast, expression soft and lax as the quiet sound of his humming filled the rink.

To this day, Katsuki had never seen another skater who moved like Izuku. Moved like the ice was their true home. Moved like no one was watching him.

Except that everyone always had their eyes on Izuku. Toshinori, Aizawa, their teammates, Katsuki…

He wanted to hate it, wanted to hate how drawn he always was to Izuku, but he’d come to accept that it was impossible. Even a decade later after his injury, even seventeen years after they set foot on the ice for the first time, even nineteen years after they first met, Katsuki still couldn’t manage to hate it.

He turned back toward the door.

[writtenspell]

SIRIUS BLACK X READER

Summary : You're just best friends with Sirius Black right ?

Warnings : some cursing

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

„Look into the crystal Ball, my lovelies“ Professor (Name) hushed, placing her hands in front her eyes, „See not with your physical eyes, hone your intuition, look with your third eye.“

Sirius groaned, looking towards you, his divination partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, but you quickly shook it off and focused on the crystal ball in front of you.

Placing your hands over the crystal ball, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The darkness inside your mind was quickly replaced by a flash of light, which soon was replaced by red fog which devoured everything whole. In your mind, you saw Sirius step out of the fog and whisper something to you, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

„Y/N?“ Sirius snapped, taking you out of your trance like state. „You ok?“ he said in a worried tone.

„I‘m fine“ you heaved, wiping the sweat off your brow.

„Well? What did you see?���

You shook your head. „You.“

„Well no wonder you were sweating and breathing heavily“ he joked.

Hitting him playfully, you brushed the vision off and kept joking with Sirius.

He was your best friend. You could talk about anything with him.

For obvious reasons, many of your peers mistook you for a couple, which was quite embarrassing at times, or so you believed it to be. After all, you guys were merely friends, right? However, despite cherishing your friendship, more than anything else, you couldn’t help but to feel almost disappointed that it was all just platonic. Deep in thoughts, you cradled your books against your chest, brows furrowed softly, as you excited the classroom and crossed the hallway, flat heels clicking sharply against the stone floor. The vision you experienced earlier was still on your mind, the heaviness of it all weighing you down. Merely thinking back on it, filled you with dread and you had absolutely no idea why. You weren’t sure if it was all in your head, or a horrid prophecy.

“Y/N, wait!” You snapped your gaze up, as you heard a voice calling after you, causing you to stop in your tracks.

„I’ve been meaning to ask you“ Vincent, a pure blood Slytherin your age smiled confidently „You know, whicht the Yule ball coming up... I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.“

„Oh“ You said a bit perplexed by the sudden question „Yes, of course“.

He smiled at you softly and nodded „I’ll see you there I guess“.

🌹

Sitting in the Gryffindor common room, you and Sirius studied a bit.

„Figured out already who you’re going to the Yule ball with?“ Sirius uttered, arms crossed and leaning over a table, his head laying on his arms. „You know, I figured we could go together... you know... to avoid this whole awkward phase of-“

“Actually-“ You interrupted, “Vincent already asked me to go with him.”

“Vincent?” Sirius spat, sitting up “The stuck up, ‘Mommy this, Daddy that’ pure blood Vincent?”

“Yeah, he asked me after divination class... I mean it’s-“

“Are you serious?” Sirius snapped at you.

“What’s the matter with you?” You said, furrowing your brow.

“What’s the matter with you?” Sirius laughed shallowly “I mean, what does that say about you?”

Furrowing your brow even further, you looked him in the eyes with a shocked expression.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You said through clenched teeth, getting up from your seat “What’s your fucking problem, Sirius”

“You’re my problem” he said eyeing you up and down “Why would you go with that douchebag?”

“That’s none of your business” you laughed bitterly while shaking your head.

“You know what, it’s really none of my business”

“No shit dumb ass” you spat with a look of disgust upon your face.

“Enjoy your night”

“I fucking will.”

🌹

Your fight with Sirius left you pretty shaken up. Sitting in your dorm, looking into your mirror, you watch yourself for a while. Your cheeks flushed and your eyes glassy, you sniffled and wiped away your tears. You were set on having fun tonight, even if it is just out of spite.

Having finished your make up, you but on your long, flowing (color) dress. You took out the curling rollers and glanced one more time towards the mirror before making your way to the great hall.

Entering the ball room, you scan it for a particular familiar face, sighing. Sirius is no where in sight. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the thought of him.

“You look beautiful tonight” Vincent said to you, pushing a strand of your curly (color) hair behind your ear.

You smiled softly and closed your eyes, however when you did all you could see was Sirius. The image of him just won’t leave your mind.

🌹

“Y/N, can I talk to you for a sec?“ James said, grabbing you lightly by the arm, pulling you away from your date.

„Have you seen Sirius anywhere?”

You shook your head in confusion. “No, why. Isn’t he here?”

The other cursed underneath his breath, a serious expression painted his features. “Listen, he had seemed quite upset earlier and you know how he can get. I couldn’t find him anywhere and now I’m getting worried.” You felt your heart pound rapidly against your rib cage, a dreadful sensation washed upon you, the same one you have experienced with your vision. “Y/N” James’s stern voice brought you back to reality, as he reached out to grip your shoulder gently. “Do you know where he could be?” You swallowed thickly, about to shake your head, as a sudden image crossed your mind, putting you in a almost trance like state. You found yourself in a dark place, the sound of a breeze ruffling through leaves, the startling and horrid sounds in the background, of creatures you couldn’t identify.Your heart almost skipped a beat, once a man suddenly appeared from the fog. It was none other than Sirius himself. Upon running towards him, you tried to reach him, but he disappeared into thin air and everything around you seemed to crumble. “Y/N?” James’s voice brought you back to reality once again and you couldn’t help but to break down. “We had a fight” agonizing sobs slipped past your lips, as you grasped the other man’s hand in desperate manner. “And I didn’t see him since then...but at divination class...I had this vision...that he was in danger and just now...I saw him in a forest...I-“ before you were able to finish your sentence, James widened his eyes, the horror was fairly evident upon his pale features. “The forbidden Forest.”

🌹

Rushing towards the forest, leaving James behind to make sure no one would notice you’re gone, you started looking for Sirius.

Your dress ripped from the bottoms as the trees held onto it, but all that was on your mind was getting to Sirius as soon as possible.

“Sirius!” You yelled, your echoes making the near by birds flutter away. “Sirius!”

You heard a distant yell from further into the woods.

“This Must be him.” You said to yourself and kept rushing into the forest.

Finally having found Sirius, you ran towards him, however, suddenly, the same red smoke you saw in your vision devoured the forest whole.

You gasped as you saw the red fog, not knowing what will happen next.

“Sirius!” You yelled again “Where are you?”

Your eyes started to get adjusted to the fog as it slowly cleared again.

There you saw him, laying on the cold forest floor with a acronantula slowly crawling on top of him.

“Flipendo!” You screamed, pointing your wand at the giant spider.

Running towards Sirius, you fell to your knees and put Sirius head on top of you.

Sirius’ Head now laying in your lap, you looked each other deep in the eyes.

“Look...” Sirius whispered

“Shh... it’s ok. You don’t have to explain yourself.” You hushed.

“But I do.” Sirius smiled “I was an idiot. A jealous idiot.”

“No shit” you laughed through your tears, letting them drip on his forehead before wiping them off him.

“I don’t mean it. None of it.”

“I know” you whispered softly.

Slowly getting up, Sirius looked at you and whiled your tears away before cupping your face gently.

Spending a few seconds like that, you just enjoyed each other’s company, with his forehead against yours.

At a loss for words, you looked each other one more time, before Sirius slowly leaned in to kiss you passionately.

🌹

Walking hand in hand out of the Forest with Sirius, you stopped right in front of the grand gates of Hogwarts. Standing in the rain, you looked deep into each other’s eyes. Although close to tears, Sirius held them back and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“There is one thing I still haven’t told you, Y/N.” He whispered, smiling softly.

“What is it?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side.

“In the forbidden forest... when you layed my head in your lap-“

„don’t remind me” you laughed softly, closing your eyes and letting a single tear run down your cheek.

“...and you cried all over my robe” Sirius laughed and wiped away your tear “I fell deep, deeply in love with you.”

You opened your eyes and looked back up at him.

“I love you too.”

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki x Reader - When the Future Meets the Past (Endgame Spoilers)

Summary: After Loki takes back the tesseract in New York, he uses it to escape but he doesn’t go alone, because you follow him. Little does he know it’s you from the future and you’re an Avenger now, on a mission to secure the team gets the space stone. Can you fight the man you love, the man you saw dead just years ago? One way or another, you have to help Loki, because future him told you a very deep secret, Thanos controlled his mind during New York. You were not going to leave in his Thanos’ claws once more… Warnings: ⚠️!!MAJOR AVENGERS ENDGAME SPOILERS!!⚠️ angst, vulgar language, mentions of death, mentions of torture, fighting, slight fluff at the end maybe Word Count 4.5K [PART 2]

Your POV

“Y/N, are you sure you want to go to New York again?” Steve asked me for what felt like the millionth time now. We were all getting ready to team up and travel back in time, which was crazy, but we had to give it a try. I was teamed up with Bruce, Scott, Steve and Tony and we were heading to New York, 2012, when Loki was captured. Just the thought of him made me smile a little melancholily. I really missed him.

Before I let my sadness show, I faced Steve and tried to look as bright as I could. “Yes, I’m sure. I mean, if Loki gets out of hand for some reason, and not to sound selfish, but I feel like I have the best shots of grabbing the leash again”, I explained to him like it was obvious. Steve knew that Loki and I had been together on Asgard. He knew that Loki could listen to me. He also knew I was devastated after his death, which probably worried him because I was going back in time and I could see him. Honestly, I had no idea how I’d react. Would I be able to stay in the shadows?

“I know you miss him, Y/N. It’s going to be difficult but you have to remember that this…this him is the past. He might not be what you remember him as”, He explained to me. I could tell he didn’t like to say these things but I understood why. He had experienced something similar when Bucky was under HYDRA’s control. Although it stung a little bit, I agreed by nodding to his words. Steve pulled his lips into a thin line and put his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get going, shall we?” 

“It’s now or never”, I replied in an attempt to forget our previous conversation. Then we returned to the team and we got suited up in our tie travel costumes that would protect us in the quantum realm. As an Asgardian, I knew something about it but I still felt a bit unsure. This could all turn bad really quick. Everyone seemed to be ready and so we all stepped on the platform. I looked at Thor, my king, hoping dearly that he wouldn’t screw things up. He had changed a lot in five years but I knew underneath all that, he was just as devastated as the rest of us. He couldn’t handle the loss which was very well understood, but we needed him to work well on Asgard. Thor noticed that I was staring and for a moment, he looked like his past self. He looked at me seriously and nodded as if he could read my thoughts. 

It was time to go.

We said our goodbyes and pressed our buttons. Everything happened so fast. I felt how I shrank madly as I got sucked into the quantum realm in lightning speed. My heart was racing by now but I focused as well as I could. My team and I all headed to the route that would take us back in time and the next thing I knew, I was standing on the streets that seemed familiar. The smell of smoke and dust made everything feel so much more realistic. Steve, Tony, Bruce and Scott were here with me and we all looked at each other in both shock and delight. It fucking worked! The screams and smoke around us didn’t seem to bother us too much. The fact that we were here felt euphoric - in a way. 

“Holy fuck!” I heard Scott cursing. He was as shocked as the rest of us, most likely. We just travelled back in time!

“Alright, let’s get going. We’re on the clock”, Tony clapped his hand to get our attention. I saw how Bruce ripped off his clothes to look like 2012 Hulk. Just like that, he was on his way to get the time stone. 

That’s when I used my magic to change my appearance from my battle outfit to a Midgardian disguise, a businesswoman. I looked like I worked at the Stark Tower or possibly S.H.I.E.L.D, therefore getting inside would be easy. “Good luck, guys”, I wished my friends the best of luck as I got ready to get back on track on my mission. Thanks to my abilities, I would get to the Stark tower in no time, definitely quicker than these guys.

“Keep a good eye on him, Y/N!” Tony yelled after me. I sure would.

“And if you get the mind stone before us, just snatch it!” Steve added quickly. 

                                                Once I reached the Stark tower, I just walked inside and found a hiding spot. I knew Loki would take the elevator down with the rest of the team. Then Tony and Scott’s plan would come to life and I had to keep an eye on Loki. They suspected he could use the chaos for his own good and I didn’t doubt that at all. As I waited for the elevator doors to slide open, I began to worry. I hadn’t seen the love of my life in five years and he would come out those doors any second now. Just the thought of it was enough to make my eyes sting but I kept my emotions somewhat in the side. I had to focus on my mission! I had to make sure Loki or anybody else wouldn’t get the tesseract before we would.

Then it happened. The elevator doors opened and the past Avengers and Loki walked out of it with the briefcase we all had eyes on. As I saw Loki, being walked out of there with a muzzle, I felt like I was frozen in time. It took every last ounce of strength I had not to run there and wrap him into my arms. Suddenly, my heart felt too big in my chest and my breath got stuck in my throat. Oh, how I wanted to, but I knew I couldn’t. I just watched from aside as they approached the men from HYDRA, who were pretending to be their allies. They made me wonder how Steve was holding up. 

I moved a little bit from my hiding spot, feeling rather confident in my disguise as a middle-aged businesswoman. Tony, dressed as a guard, noticed me and he simply nodded. Only a few seconds later, 2012 Tony fell on the floor nearby and all chaos broke loose. I turned around and saw people around Tony, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Then all of a sudden, the briefcase fell on the floor and a shiny, blue cube caught my attention

the tesseract!

My eyes widened in horror as I saw it on the floor. Then I hurried towards it, hoping I could catch it before anyone else could. Just as I tried to reach it, Loki did and I stumbled by his feet. I winced out in pain but tried to get up as fast as I could. “Loki! Don’t use it!” I begged and lifted my disguise, showing him my true self. He just stared at me with empty, rather blue eyes. It’s like he looked right past me as I looked at everything I ever knew to love and god it hurt. It felt like I was swallowing acid as I held back my emotions. I was on a mission.

Loki didn’t seem to care. He wielded the true power of the tesseract and a portal opened behind him. I didn’t think, I just did what I felt was right. As he stepped back inside it, I leapt in with him just in time. The portal shut behind me and I felt the darkness of space surrounding us. Loki didn’t seem too stressed about the fact I was holding onto his arm for dear life. But he also didn’t seem to care about the fact it was me. That eerie side of him just confirmed everything he had told me in the past after he was imprisoned. This was all Thanos. Loki was somewhere deep inside his shell but definitely not on the outside. But his scent was there, burning in my nose, bringing back memories that were made for just the two of us. God, how I wanted to hold him and forget the world but I knew I couldn’t. I needed the tesseract, billions of precious lives needed that cube. I had to take it back.

Once I opened my eyes, I noticed we were somewhere, possibly on a spaceship. Loki stood there and looked at me curiously. Since he hadn’t pushed me off yet, I felt confident enough to let go of his arm. He obviously wanted to know where I came from all of a sudden and why on earth I followed him to the unknown. 

“Took you long enough to show up. I thought you were thriving back on Asgard since you didn’t show up here with Thor. Or perhaps Odin didn’t have enough power to send the both of you at the same time, is that so?” He finally spoke and his voice was like music to my ears. It made my heart swell with misery. On the other hand, the tone of his voice sent shivers down my back because it was so mocking and honestly ominous. There was so much he didn’t know but then my mind got caught up with one word, thriving. Back when this happened, I was still loathing in self-pity back in our shared chamber, holding onto his blanket although it didn’t bring him back.

“Thriving? Are you out of your mind, Loki? Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?” 

He narrowed his rather blue eyes at me, studying my face like many times before. Only this time I knew he wasn’t himself. That’s when I got an idea. I knew I was working on the clock and I knew how dangerous it was but man, I wanted to do it. I looked around me and began to wonder, was this Thanos’ ship? It would make sense. If he controlled Loki, it would only be right that Loki came here to give the stone to Thanos.

Thanos.

If we were indeed on his ship, we could get killed. I didn’t have time to dwell on what had happened. I had to help Loki snap out of this.

“Perhaps, you’d like to explain to me why there were two men of iron back on Midgard”, Loki completely ignored what I said earlier. So he knew?

“I will if you listen to me, Loki. You can’t give the tesseract to Thanos-”

“What do you know about him?” Loki growled, being taken back by just hearing the Titan's name. Now he looked at me with a bit more emotion, concern almost. I looked at him and noticed that some parts of him were surfacing. I had to keep pushing him and hope it would help him break free. Natasha told me he snapped Clint out of his trance by hitting his head a few times but I wasn’t confident I could fight Loki after finally being reunited with him.

I swallowed thickly and got ready to defend myself if Loki wanted to fight, or the man who controlled him. I had to remind myself that if Loki got violent, it wasn’t truly him. It was Thanos. “I know that he tortured you after you…you fell down the Bifrost and got swallowed by that portal. I know he’s trying to gather all the infinity stones so he can fulfil his plan and destroy half of all life. What else do you want to know?”

For once, Loki seemed surprised. He chuckled lightly and looked at the tesseract for a while. “Something’s different about you, Y/N. The woman I once knew never stood in my way. You would’ve been ready to be by my side no matter what, yet here we are. I can’t let anyone stand in my way, not even you. You have two choices, darling, move out of the way or”, he paused dramatically, holding out his hand to me which was really tempting to grab, “or join me. I know for a fact that I’m returning this to him no matter what.”

Hearing that made me feel sick my to stomach. He really was Thanos’ puppet. I pushed his hand away from me and tried to grab the tesseract, but Loki was quicker than me. Loki stepped aside and I almost hit the wall but I caught my balance just in time. As I turned to look at him again, he made it vanish so I couldn’t possibly take it. “Your choice, love”, he sighed disappointedly. The next thing I knew, Loki sent a powerful energy blast towards me. My heart jolted to my throat as I created a shield before it could’ve struck me. This was not what I expected to happen. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline in my body, I would’ve possibly had a nervous breakdown. I was fighting Loki whom I thought was dead! This was insane!

“I know this isn’t you, Loki!” I screamed as I laid down my magic shield and grabbed my daggers from my weapon belt. 

“I’ve been gone for a while, how could you know me these days?” He replied angrily and grabbed his own daggers. I glanced at them and cursed silently. Loki had taught me how to fight with daggers so he knew my every move. “What? It’s a fair fight, don’t you think?” He smirked like this was fun.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this but I’ve got nothing to lose”, I began but he wasn’t here to listen. Loki leapt at me and tried to grab my throat but I was quick enough to dodge that death grip. I stepped aside just in time to see him turning around quickly. Loki threw a dagger at me which I didn’t see coming at all and it struck the side of my ribcage. The blade was sharp enough to cut through the leather that had protected me and it sliced my skin which stung like hell. I groaned in pain but it didn’t stop me. 

“What? Spill your little secrets, I’m all ears”, Loki encouraged me to keep talking. I pretended to be more hurt than I was by pressing my hand to my side and leaning against the wall. He bought it because he walked close to me calmly. Although he seemed like he was ready to kill me, I could still sense some remorse. His eyes said it all. He didn’t want to hurt me but it seemed he had no choice. This Loki still feared Thanos would come after his loved ones if he didn’t do his dirty work.

“He doesn’t care about your deal, Loki. He’s going to get those stones and then he will kill you”, I told him the truth, hoping that the god of lies could see that.

“I very much doubt that.”

“Well, I’ve seen it! This might sound..well it does sound crazy but I’m from the future! He killed you, Loki. He…he killed our people. I can’t let you do this, I can’t let you give that to him”, I stated the facts and swallowed my tears. As Loki processed my words, I used the moment for my good. I kicked his legs hard which made him stumble a little bit. Then quickly, I ran behind him and jumped on his back, holding the edge my dagger against his throat. It broke my heart to be in this situation but I knew I had no choice. 

“Ah, you’ve joined the silly mortals and my brother and now you’re against me. I didn’t think you’d be like everybody else”, Loki attempted to guilt-trip me which almost worked. It was painful to do this, it really was, but it was for his best too.

“I’m not. I’m doing this for you- fuck!” I screamed out in pain as Loki hit me against the wall. I fell on the ground and my daggers slid across the room we were in. Loki kicked them far away from me and then knelt right in front of me, holding my jaw roughly so he looked right into my eyes. I didn’t feel safe enough to attack him because he could slit my exposed throat easily. My blood began to flow quicker and I could hear it flowing in my ears. 

Loki sighed again. “You’re just like Thor, so sentimental.”

Just then, I got an idea. Sure, it was dangerous but it was my biggest chance of survival. “If you’re going to kill me, now’s your chance. Do it, Loki. I’m not going to be in your way.”

He seemed confused. He knitted his eyebrows together and looked at me like I was mad. “Whatever you’re planning, it’s not going to work. You can’t trick me.”

“Maybe not but I can do this”, I told him and grabbed his wrist with the arm I had the time travel gadget on. With my other hand, I pushed the button. Loki had no idea what was going on as we were both sucked to the quantum realm. Since he didn’t have the suit, he was knocked out of his senses. It hurt to see him like that but I held onto him tightly, dragging him with me to my present, his future. 

The two of us appeared back on the platform where we had started the time mission. I stumbled on it with a passed out Loki in my arms. The moment I realized we were back safely, I threw off my mask and hurried to help Loki. My entire body was trembling as I pushed him on his back and I checked his pulse. Once I felt his heartbeat throbbing against my fingers, I almost cried out of joy. 

He was alive!

Everybody else started to appear beside us as they returned from their missions. Steve and Tony looked at me and I saw a briefcase with them. Somehow, they got the tesseract which I was so relieved about. It meant that they had travelled even further back in time before Loki got it. They would probably be so mad I had Loki with me but I couldn’t care less. At least, I ensured he couldn’t give it to Thanos in 2012 and fuck up that timeline. 

“Where’s Natasha?” I heard someone ask. I had been so focused on Loki that I didn’t even see if everyone had returned. Everyone, including me, turned to look at Clint who had the soul stone but the misery and pain on his face said it all. Natasha didn’t make it…

***

It had only been a few hours since we all came back. The team was in a devastating state of shock because we lost Nat but we had to keep working. Then night arrived and some of us went to bed, knowing tomorrow was going to be a big day. We would assemble Tony’s version of the infinity gauntlet and someone would have to wield it. But I couldn’t rest.

Loki was strapped down to a bed in one of the headquarter’s healing rooms. He was still passed out and I was scared the quantum realm trip had hurt him too badly. If he wouldn’t wake up, I’d probably drown in my guilt. So I stayed by his side. I was ready to help him calm down if he woke up in panic. Oh and I wished and prayed to the gods that he wasn’t under Thanos’ control anymore. I didn’t see how it would be possible after he travelled in time so, in a way, 2012 Thanos couldn’t possibly control Loki in the future, right?

Gosh, some of the team members were pissed at me for bringing Loki back with me. I tried to explain that it was this close that I would’ve died and I explained how we were about to stare Thanos in the face, well Loki would’ve and then handed over the tesseract. I didn’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened if he had succeeded! Then, somehow someway Tony and Steve returned with the tesseract from the 70s. Since Loki was still in his deep slumber, I wasn’t sure if he still possessed the space stone or if it had vanished. All I knew was that time was hella confusing.

“Please wake up, my love”, I whispered after the silence grew too heavy around me. I rested my head beside his arm and I drew gentle patterns on his chest. He was still in his battle armour because we rushed to get him strapped down, in case of emergency. Thor had aided us then but he hadn’t shown up after. It’s like seeing his brother was too much for him at the moment or perhaps he actually wanted to brainstorm while being drunk. I didn’t know what it was. 

That’s when I felt movement. Loki tried to move his arm but realized soon that he couldn’t. I stood up quickly and tried to get his attention before he could freak out. But it was too late. Loki tried to yank himself free hopelessly and once he realized he couldn’t, terror decorated his face. “Loki! Loki, it’s okay, you’re safe”, I tried to get the word through to him. After I repeated myself a few times, he stopped fighting and he just stared at me. 

“Y/N…you’re alright!” Loki breathed out in shock. It seemed like he woke up from a terrible nightmare.

“Yes, but less of me. How are you feeling?” I just had to know. Loki seemed baffled and he took in his surroundings. This was all unfamiliar to him and I knew that. I didn’t want him to feel unsafe anymore. This was past him and for him, all the torture happened only a brief while ago. Being strapped down probably brought back awful memories but I had to know I could trust him before I could let him free.

“Hold on- what happened? I-…I was about to, god, Y/N I really hope you know it wasn’t my intention”, Loki began to remember what had happened before we got here. He probably had no idea that I knew everything and I couldn’t blame him at all for what happened on the ship.

“It’s okay, Loki. I know everything. You don’t have to worry about that”, I reassured him sweetly. He took a deep breath and rested his head against the pillow. He seemed slightly relieved about that. As I looked at him, my emotions began to crawl back to me. I was finally with him again after Thanos snapped his neck in front of us which was a picture that had tormented me for five years. But this Loki, he didn’t know any better. He never returned to Asgard, he never got imprisoned by his own father, he never lost his mother, he never fought for his home only to destroy it, he never died. 

“What?” He seemed to notice I wasn’t fully here. 

“Do you remember when I said I was from the future?” I wondered. He seemed to think about it and then remember something. 

“You were serious?” He questioned me entreatingly as if the answer was obvious but he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Now I sighed. “I’m dead serious, Loki. This-”, I paused just to look around us, “is the future for you but the present for me.”

Loki fell silent. I figured he was back to himself so instead of messing with his fragile mind even more, I went ahead and unstrapped him from the bed. He didn’t mind as I freed him and soon enough, Loki was all free. He seemed to be deep in his thoughts though, just like me. I really wanted to get in there with him and hug him but I also felt like I would cry which I really didn’t want to. Emotionally, I was exhausted. I didn’t know what to do really.

He sat up straight and threw his legs off the edge of the bed. I watched as his head hung low and he tried to gather himself. I wasn’t sure whether he was relieved he wasn’t under Thanos’ control of if he was letting everything that had happened to him finally sink in. No matter what it was, I wasn’t going to stand there and let him crumble to pieces by himself. I sat down beside him and wrapped my arms around his body. At first, Loki was hesitant, almost like he didn’t want my comfort but he couldn’t resist it. He leaned against me and wrapped his arms around my waist. His head was on my shoulder and it felt so good. That’s when everything got the best of me too. I was happy to hold him but I was also devastated because we lost Natasha. Everything was simply overwhelming and only Loki could make it all better. 

“I missed you”, I whispered and let a few silent tears roll down my face. Perhaps he didn’t even know how much I had missed him but it didn’t matter. Right now, we had each other and even if it was for a short while only, it was all that mattered. Tomorrow was going to be a new day but I didn’t even want to give it a thought. I wanted to be here for a moment like there was no tomorrow at all. 

But that wasn’t going to happen. We both heard footsteps approaching us and Loki let go of me. He cursed and got up, facing both me and the door with his back to hide his pained expression. It hurt to see how fast he changed but I knew Loki. He hated to show his vulnerable side to anyone. Then the doors opened and Thor walked in. He looked at me and then at his brother who was now by the windows. I used that moment to wipe away my tears.

“Y/N! We’re- Oh, you’re awake”, Thor muttered, talking about Loki. It’s like he forgot why he even came here.

“Good to know you still have vision”, Loki mumbled back with sass. It’s like all emotion and vulnerability he had ten seconds ago was all gone. Now it was his cold and hard shell that had taken years to break. Loki turned around and I saw no traces of the terror that had been in his eyes previously. Once he saw Thor, his eyebrows knit together. “You’ve…changed.”

[PART 2]

Author’s Note: I had to end this before I would’ve written a few thousand words more. I’m still shook over Endgame and really upset that Loki didn’t get to fight Thanos. So I wrote this little thing in hopes it would ease the pain but it didn’t. Might write a part 2. 

 Anyway, Feedback would be really nice! Thank you, darlings :)

[sparrellow]

It’s Not a Date (Or Is It?)

“Why would I, of all people, ask the poor girl out on her birthday, of all days,” he said. “That sounds like the worst birthday gift ever.”

rating: T genre: romance, humour pairing: rinlen words:  5,141

Although they had been friends since they were in diapers, when it came to Rin’s birthday, Len always had no clue what to give her.

You see, the girl was difficult. She didn’t really like her birthday—she refused to celebrate it, even. She went so far as to threaten to blackmail him (with childhood photos of him half-naked, suction cups on his nipples; it was better not to ask, for childhood had been a strange time) if he so much as ever planned a surprise party behind her back. 

Whenever he’d try asking about what she’d want for her birthday, she’d scoff and roll her eyes and tell him something stupid like, “A will to live.” Yes, Rin, we all want a will to live, he’d think. But alas I need something a little more obtainable.

And, well, it wasn’t like Len could just not give her a gift—he had to. It was obligatory. While Rin’s blood curdled at the mention of her own birthday, whenever it came to anyone else’s, she would go ham. The previous birthday, she’d knitted Len a sweater. A whole, mcfucking sweater. And you can bet this simp wore it so much the armpits started permanently smelling like the inside of a men’s locker room. 

So he had to give her something back as equally as awesome. It was just an unwritten rule in his book of life. It was Len law.

Despite spending a good portion of the year listening out for any things she could want, this year around was particularly tough. Rin had mentioned, in the off-occasion, wanting several things; a television (he couldn’t afford that even if he wanted to), a boyfriend (well… maybe? Ahem. Just kidding), and a trip to the ISS (h… how).

For obvious reasons, such gifts were unobtainable. Which came to the dilemma he experienced almost every year: what in the ever loving fuck should he give to Rin this year?

It hit one week before her birthday when he started to grow desperate. So desperate, in fact, he consulted two of Rin’s closest female friends—Gumi and Miku, who seemed to be (sometimes, mostly) on the same wavelength as her. 

He didn’t like talking to them. They were painful to engage with. Insufferable. The human embodiment of gremlins. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“A gift for Rin, huh,” Miku had echoed, when he’d planted himself at their desks one morning. Rin always came late, so, it wasn’t like he’d be caught in the act or anything anyway. 

Len nodded.

Gumi and Miku exchanged looks.

“How about you ask her out,” Miku suggested, a deadpan expression. Gumi, however, couldn’t do much to hide her amusement; bursting into a fit of giggles behind her hand.

He rolled his eyes. “A serious gift, Miku.”

“What?” She looked innocent. “It is serious.”

Gumi continued to snort-laugh off to the side.

“Well, what are you two giving her for her birthday?” he asked, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort arguing.

Miku tossed a pigtail behind one shoulder. “We’re going to have a sleepover, where we will forcibly sing happy birthday to her and make her eat a cake.”

Len frowned. “That sounds… nice. I guess.”

“You can’t steal our idea.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “Like I said, just ask her out.”

“Why would I, of all people, ask the poor girl out on her birthday, of all days,” he said. “That sounds like the worst birthday gift ever.”

It was their turn to roll their eyes. “Maybe to you, banana brain,” Gumi said. “It’s pathetic that you’ve been friends with her the longest out of us three, and you still don’t know what gift to give her on her birthday. Talk about dumbass energy.” Then they high-fived each other.

Len bristled, his pride taking a hefty blow. “And? At least I’m trying to give her something she wants,” he reasoned, voice squeaking.

“If you used any of that big, big brain in that big, big head of yours, you would know what she wants,” Miku shot back, waggling a finger at his forehead. “Like I said: kissy kissy. Go on a date with me. Let’s get married or something and live happily ever after.”

But he was unconvinced. Rin? Living happily ever after? That girl couldn’t sit through any romance movie for the life of her. 

He decided this conversation was not worth having. He would figure this out on his own.

Maybe. Hopefully. Probably.

.

“A gift for your girlfriend,” Kaito mused aloud, looking distant as he hung over the fence separating him and Len. Kaito was his neighbour; an older, more experienced neighbour (he was a university student and proudly boasted about his experience having dated two girls and one guy).

It was T-minus three days until Rin’s birthday, and Len was still running in circles trying to figure out what to give her. It had come to asking his neighbour. Who, in all the times they’d interacted, always smelt like bong water and cigarettes.

Len winced. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said—or, well, insisted.

Kaito ignored him. “How about a date,” he suggested. “Like, a really sweet date. You take her somewhere she likes to go and treat her. It doesn’t have to be grand or extravagant, or anything.”

Huh. Huh. The guy had a point. Not the date part, but the taking-her-out-and-paying-for-her part. It didn’t seem too bad of an idea, actually.

All of a sudden, Len had a great idea for what to do on Rin’s birthday. He quickly thanked Kaito for his advice and ran off, annoyed he hadn’t thought of it in the first place, but nevertheless plotting a master plan of where he could take her on her birthday.

First, of course, he had to check whether she was available that day.

Rin r u busy on Sunday, he texted her on LINE.

She replied two minutes later with, I’m at Miku’s in the morning, but I’m free in the afternoon. Why?

Okay, good. He didn’t need to rethink schedules or anything. Do u want to hang out? We could go 2 karaoke or smth.

Sure. What time?

Len paused to think, before responding, How abt one?

Rin’s reply came back almost immediately. Sounds good.

He was relieved. Okay. So. Now he just had to figure out what to do to make the whole thing, well, special. It was her birthday. Sure, going to karaoke was good and fun and all, but they already did that pretty regularly. It was part of the plan, but he needed something more. 

How about a nice restaurant? Or was that too, well, suggestive? Besides, he only had so much of his allowance he could spare. Hmm.

He pulled up the internet browser on his phone and began typing into the search function, Places to go on dat— Wait—delete delete delete. Places to go for birthdays. There we go.

Some articles popped up. He clicked on the first one, scanned the list. Restaurant. Cinema. Musical theatre. Park. Museum. Observation tower.

Observation tower?

Len thought for a moment. He knew he was too broke to take her somewhere exciting like, uh, Skytree or whatever. But then there was the Metropolitan Government Building in Shinjuku. And that was free. And they had a cafe at the top. 

Plus, it was sort of romantic— 

But the point of it was, it was for her birthday. Not a date. And it was something nice and unique, and he could totally imagine them sitting in the cafe watching the sunset over Tokyo's skyline.

So, that was decided. Karaoke. Observation tower. Maybe dinner if Rin was keen on getting something like Gusto because he didn't have the bank account for it. Man, Kaito was sort of a genius, in his own strange, Kaito way.

He reminded himself to buy the guy an ice cream sometime as a thank you gift.

.

Sunday finally came, and Len arranged to meet Rin out front of their usual go-to karaoke box. She was already there waiting when he arrived—which was strange, given the girl's notoriety for being fashionably late in most situations—looking bored and scrolling through her phone. She was dressed sort of cute; a mustard yellow overall dress and white collar shirt underneath, hair tied back by her signature white bow. 

He swept her up into an embrace, which she wriggled out of with a groan. "Happy birthday!"

Her cheeks flushed red and she rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

Len took no offence, steering her into the lobby of Joysound. "How was your sleepover with Gumi and Miku?" he asked.

Rin looked surprised. "You knew about that?"

"Oh. Yeah. I talked to them last week about it."

She blinked. "Huh." She seemed to brush it off as something minor, answering his question with a shrug of her shoulders. "You know. It's Miku and Gumi. We played monopoly before Miku got bored, and then they forced me to play truth or dare."

"Truth or dare, huh." Len had heard multiple horror stories about her previous experiences with the girls playing truth or dare. He grinned, glancing over at her. “So what did you do?”

“Dare, of course,” Rin said. She held up her wrist, showing an elaborate illustration of an erected penis. “What do you think?”

His eyebrows shot up. “That’s creative.”

She snickered. "Yeah. I think they were getting a bit frustrated with me. I kept saying pass on their dares, so the punishment was to drink a whole bottle of ketchup."

Len wondered what possible thing they were trying to get her to do that she would willingly drink ketchup over doing. "Did you?"

"Yeah. And then I threw up all over Miku's carpet, so they called it a night."

The way she said it so nonchalantly caught him off guard as they stepped up to the counter. He fumbled with his wallet, pulling out a membership card and scrambling to fill out the slip of paper the front counter clerk handed to him.

Rin was reading his writing over his shoulder. “Four hours? Really? I thought we would be going for like, eight hours.”

He handed the paper back to the staff and shot her his best, reassuring grin. "I've got other stuff planned after this, you know."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Other stuff?" she echoed. "Better not be a surprise party, or I will post those pictures of you all over—"

"It's not a surprise party. It's just you and I. Jeez."

The staff told him how much they owed, and he dished out the money before Rin could even get to her own purse. 

She frowned. "Hey. Tell me how much it was when we get to the room so I can pay you back."

"No," he said smoothly, pocketing the change and taking the receipt. "Today, it's on me."

Rin opened her mouth to argue as they started off down the corridor towards their allocated room number. "Are you sure? Four hours isn't cheap—"

"It's fine," he insisted. "It's your birthday. Think of it as part of the gift."

She wasn't impressed, but she knew better not to argue.

The room they were given wasn't huge—which was fine, not that they needed the space—so they sat next to each other bumping shoulders on the far side of the room, facing the television. Rin already had the remote in hand within moments of sitting down, queuing a ton of songs they usually defaulted to singing every time they went to karaoke.

When they cleared out what she had queued, she reached for the menu on the table in front of them and started looking through it. “I’m hungry. Can we get something?”

Len was trying to remember how much he had left in his wallet in terms of cash. "Uh. Sure."

She pointed at a picture of a plate of takoyaki. "Want to share some?"

They were only 600 yen. Not too bad. 

He nodded, before noticing a lack of drinks on their table, and the dry, scratchy feeling in his throat. He quickly checked the receipt they were given. "Shoot. I got us the drink bar. Want me to grab you something?"

"Oh." Rin thought for a moment, as if the decision was really tough, although the selection at the drink bar almost never changed. "Just get me some minute maid. The usual."

Right. Orange soda. The usual. As he got up from his seat, she reached over to unhook the phone from the wall.

"I'll order the food," she told him before he left.

Len poured himself a glass of calpis, grabbed Rin's soda. While waiting for the drink machine to finish, he acknowledged that he was feeling sort of nervous. His heart was beating hard against his ribcage, palms clammy. Why though? It wasn't like this was any different from any other karaoke venture him and Rin went on.

Well, besides the plans he had for the evening, but it was because of her birthday. Nothing else. No sinister thoughts here.

When he got back to the room, Rin had already queued another block of songs and was in the middle of singing something. He hadn’t even the chance to queue anything he wanted. 

God, she was such a remote hog, and he thought to tell her off, but reminded himself it was her birthday. Let her be the evil remote hog that she was for the day.

The food came when they were in the middle of a duet. Len almost missed his part of the song, because she hadn’t just ordered takoyaki, but also a plate of fries and a strawberry parfait. His eyes popped out of his head as the employee set down the food on the table.

Rin, he thought. Why are you like this. I love you, but why are you like this.

“Are you going to eat all of that?” he asked when the song finished.

She gave him a look. “No? We’re sharing.”

Len mumbled something along the lines of okay yeah whatever but I didn’t ask for this much food. He reached for a soggy fry, mourning his allowance.

.

Karaoke went by fast. In retrospect, it was probably better to have only spent four hours there, because his throat was raw by the third hour. Rin—the absolute madman—was still going somewhat strong, although her voice was a tad raspy by the end.

After Len paid for the food, they left and headed for the station nearby. On the way there, Rin asked, "So, where to next?"

"Shinjuku." He left it brief.

She screwed up her face. "Shinjuku? Ew. Why are we going there?"

"Because that's where I planned for us to go?" He gave her a hurt look, and she returned it, playful.

Admittedly, Len was a little worried, considering Rin had consumed almost all of the food they were supposed to share (not to forget that she also put another dint in his wallet). He was planning on them having cake or something at the cafe at the top of the north tower, because it was her birthday, but she probably wouldn't even be hungry.

The trains were starting to get a little busy—Sunday afternoon, everyone was going home—so they had to stand a little close together. Rin parked herself in the corner between the seats and the door, and Len right beside her, trying to avoid touching the other people around them but leaving enough space for Jesus between each other.

Normally Len wouldn't find himself so worked up over this situation, but today, his brain was like, stupid teenage boy mode or something because being so close to her was really bothering him. She seemed unaware of that, though, recounting some of the misadventures she'd had with Miku and Gumi the night before.

He listened, but didn't really listen, hyper aware of their hands and arms grazing with every jolt of the train, and eyes betraying him every few minutes by slipping down to her lips. Why, oh why, was he sexualising his best friend like this? On her birthday? Really, Len?

Eventually, they reached their destination station, and headed towards the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building.

Rin tried nagging him again about where they were going.

"You'll see in, like, five minutes," he told her.

She sulked. “Why is it some big secret?” she complained. “I hate secrets.”

“It’s not a secret. I just like seeing you suffer.”

“Len. Choke.”

He grinned as they turned a corner in the underground walkway leading them away from the station, reaching a set of long, long escalators. Rin peered up at the sign above, trying to catch a glimpse of what possible location they were heading to.

"Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building?" she read. "What's so special about that?"

Len feigned nonchalance, tossing a shoulder. "Oh, you know," he said. "There are observation decks at the top of each tower, and I heard it looks really nice at sunset, so I was just thinking of going there with you."

"Huh." Her expression went blank. "That's nice."

It was a short walk amongst the towering buildings of Shinjuku. This part of the city wasn't as busy or touristy; clean and pristine with wide, empty footpaths. A clear, blue sky peeked through the skyscrapers overhead. It was only five or so, so they still had a bit of time before sundown. Luckily, the weather and visibility were good that day, much to his relief.

The wait in line to reach the observation level was long, but admittedly, worth it. Rin seemed happy once they reached the top, running over to the closest window and pulling out her phone to snap pictures of the skyline. She ushered him over, made him squint into the distance to look for the ocean, and they spent a good half hour trying to spot landmarks amongst the sea of buildings below.

After walking the perimeter of the building, they settled down in the seats of the cafe. “Do you want anything?” Len asked.

Rin hummed, eyes skimming over the menu. “I think I’ll just get tea.”

He was a little disappointed she wasn’t interested in any of the sweets on display (the banana cake looked really good, okay), but decided in retrospect, he would’ve been terrified if that girl could fit anymore in after eating takoyaki, fries and almost all of the strawberry parfait.

After he came back with their drinks, they settled into a comfortable silence. Rin was responding to messages on her phone, and he was just happy to watch as her expression shifted with every thought.

Eventually, she set down her phone and stared down at the table between them. “So,” she began, in a tone that meant business.

He sat up in his chair, smiled at her, but it was nervous, because she—all of a sudden—seemed very serious. And serious Rin was not a common occurrence.

Her fingers curled into fists on her thighs, and her gaze flitted everywhere in the room but his face. “Is this, um, a date?”

At first, Len didn’t know how to respond. 

His mouth hung open, before he became aware of his expression, snapping it shut. Then he cleared his throat. “Um.” To be honest, he didn’t know. Was it a date? Well, maybe he lowkey wanted it to be but did Rin want it to be? By the looks of it, she didn’t seem very… impressed by the idea. “It’s, uh… whatever you want it to be, Rin.”

She blinked, eyes falling on him, then dropping back down to her knees. “Oh.”

Was that the right answer? Had he just made her uncomfortable? Had he just ruined her entire birthday?

He was too afraid to ask.

They sat in awkward silence, until the sky outside started to turn various shades of orange, and people began swarming the windows to watch the sunset.

Rin was kind of peering over, as if torn between getting up from the chair or staying seated.

“You want to go look?” Len asked, giving her a smile to try and ease the uncomfortable air between them.

She hesitated, the corners of her lips twitching. “I won’t even be able to see over everyone.”

He, with the intelligence of a mitochondria, said, “Well, I can just hold you up.”

Rin snorted. “Are you sure you can do that?”

He blew a raspberry, faking confidence. “Uh, yeah, sure I can.”

“Okay then, Mr Buff Arms. Prove it to me.”

She got up from her seat with a shit-eating grin, and he scrambled after her, crossing the floor in direction of one of the busiest windows. The reason why the crowds were gathering at that particular spot was not just because of the sunset, but because of the fact that you could see a beautifully clear silhouette of Mt Fuji in the distance.

He hadn’t even realised that; it was hiding behind the clouds before.

Len gestured for her to climb onto his back.

“Are you sure?” Rin looked uncertain, eyeing him like a venomous snake. “I’m like, almost the same weight as you, Len.”

“So?” he bluffed.

She stood there staring, before giving in with the roll of her eyes. “Don’t cry if I break something.”

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, hiking one leg up his side, and he hooked his arms under her thighs to hoist her up. She was right. She was heavy. But he was willing to be crushed under the weight of her for her to have a nice birthday.

“Hold on to me,” she ordered, arms unlatching from his neck. “I want to take some pictures.”

Len gave a grunt as a reply. It was the best he could do.

After a while (probably like, two minutes or so), he felt like he was going to burst a blood vessel somewhere in his body, so he wheezed out, “Rin. Are you done? I gotta let you down now.”

“Oh, yeah. You can let me down.”

He released his grip on her legs and she dropped back down into standing position behind him. Grabbing his lower back in pain, he turned to her looking like a crippled old man.

Rin laughed in his face. “Feeling sorry for yourself now, huh? I told you.”

He waved his hand, straightening up with a groan. “Yeah, yeah. Did you get any nice pictures?”

“Hmm. Let’s see.” She looked at her phone, then moved in close to show him her screen. “They’re not too bad, besides the dozens of heads in the foreground.”

It was strange, oddly disproportionate, the way Mt Fuji loomed over the busy streets of Tokyo. The sky was a beautiful array of golds and oranges and yellows; a perfect sunset for a perfect birthday.

“They’re nice,” he said. He glanced up from her phone to look at her, becoming aware of their distance, and aware of her ogling up at him. The golden light coming through the windows lit up her face, brought out the highlights of her hair, accentuated the freckles on her cheeks. 

Wow, he thought, his breath getting caught in his throat. He was utterly in love with her.

Much to his surprise, Rin’s face seemed to be moving closer. And so was he, his body unconsciously moving forward, down to her like drawn to a magnet. 

Her eyes fluttered closed, head tilting. 

Their lips were about an inch away from touching when a child right beside them started screaming. Immediately, Len was drawn out of his strange daze, jumping away from Rin. She seemed to do the same thing, putting at least a metre space between them.

Her face was bright red, and she forced her fingers back through her hair with a nervous laugh. “You know, we should get going before everyone else gets the same idea,” she said, acting as if nothing ever happened.

Len blinked, unsure if he’d just imagined what happened thirty seconds prior, or if he was really just about to kiss his best friend in front of thirty or so strangers. He decided not to think about it. “Right. That’s a good idea.”

So they headed for the elevators and made a quick escape before the crowds followed. His head was still spinning as they walked down the footpath back towards the entrance to the underground walkway. The sky was now fading to a deep blue; bare remnants of the day clinging in streaks of orange above their heads.

Rin tugged on his sleeve, pointing a finger at something across the intersection they stood. “Hey. I want to check that out.”

It was a park—Shinjuku Chuo Park, to be exact. He’d seen it on the map when researching where to go with her, didn’t think much of it. There was a waterfall display and some flowerbeds, people lurking about. There were winding paths and a handful of trees lining them, a maze within the middle of the city.

He shrugged his shoulders.

It wasn’t like he was in a hurry or anything. They had time, still, to go for dinner, if Rin was keen on it. She seemed awfully pensive compared to before, though, as they crossed the road and made their way over to the park.

He wondered if he’d said or done something wrong. Or… if what had happened between them with the whole phone-and-faces-getting-close-like-they-were-going-to-kiss-or-something had like, offended her.

They strolled down the winding path of the park in silence. There was a playground, some monuments, and finally, a shrine.

Rin slowed to a stop, staring at the shrine. He halted beside her.

“You want to pray?” Len asked.

She was quiet, before shaking her head. “No. It’s alright.” She glanced up at him, a small smile. “I was thinking, let’s go sit down somewhere.”

He obeyed, and they set off again, finding a lone seat along the footpath nearby. There were still a few people out and about, but it was relatively quiet. It had long turned to night, the cityscape surrounding them lighting up like tetris blocks. 

Their shoulders bumped, and Rin eased herself against him, before bringing her head down to rest on his shoulder.

His heart hummed to life in his chest, but he tried to ignore it.

“This is really nice,” she said, her voice soft. “This was a really nice day, Len.”

After a moment of hesitation, he lowered his cheek against the top of her hair, taking in the familiar scent of her favourite shampoo. A hint of something floral, a hint of something citrus—and a hit of something Rin.

He hummed. “I’m glad.”

Rin was silent for a passing moment, before she spoke again. “Do you know what would make it even better?”

Len’s stomach growled. “Gusto?” he half-joked.

“No.” She pulled her head away to look at him, and the cool night air hit his cheek like a slap to the face. He stared back down at her, captured by her gaze.

It was happening again. The whole moving-in-close thing, that was. Her face was getting bigger, and he could feel her hot breath tickling the tip of his nose. His head ducked down to close the gap between them, catching her wet mouth with his own so suddenly that he pulled away, shocked at the boldness of his actions.

Rin didn’t seem to care, though. Her hand went up to the back of his head and pulled him back down to her lips. It was sloppy, kind of gross, but they didn’t care. It was their first time. It wasn’t supposed to be perfect.

She kept him in place, balling up the fabric of his t-shirt with her fists. He allowed himself to melt into the kiss, hands trailing down to hold her by the waist. He wasn’t expecting the day to really end with them sitting in the middle of a park in Shinjuku making out, but he wasn’t mad by the outcome, either.

When they pulled away to breathe, Rin smiled something nervous, her lips glistening under the glow of the city lights. Her hands unravelled themselves from his shirt. 

“Better,” she said.

Len was stunned silent, just stared at her. He wasn’t sure if what happened had just happened. So he went back in for another kiss; this time a little bit more tender, less wet. 

“So Gumi and Miku were right,” he thought aloud against her mouth.

Rin pulled back a bit to give him this horrified look. “What did they tell you.” It wasn’t even posed as a question. She’d already made the assumption they’d told him something awful.

He chuckled nervously. “Well, uh, I tried asking their opinion what to do for your birthday…”

She raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“They straight up told me to ask you out.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Those bitches.”

His lips curled. “Well, I mean. It helped. Somewhat.”

“Yeah.” She frowned, reaching up to curl a strand of her hair around a finger. “I can’t believe they just—so blatantly did that, though. Even after I begged them not to say anything.”

She begged them? Wow. “I thought they were joking up until five minutes ago, Rin. You know I don’t take anything they say seriously.”

Rin sighed. “Yeah, but—” She paused, thinking, before tossing her shoulders. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. I just want to know, Len— is this a date?”

Len pressed his forehead against hers. Gazed into her eyes. They were a dark blue; alluring, always drawing him in, keeping him in orbit around her like a planet to its star. He admitted, “Not my original intention, no, but I think the simp in me was projecting a bit much that it ended up being one anyway.”

She cracked a grin. “Simp, huh,” she said. She lifted a hand to his jaw, trailed her fingers along it until her palm was resting on the back of his head. He wanted to shudder into her touch. “Well, kiss me more. I’m not done making the most of my birthday privileges yet.”

He opened his mouth. “I can kiss you like this every day if you wan—”

She silenced him with her lips, closing the space between them once again.

.

[epilogue]

The following weekend, Len knocked on Kaito’s door with a week’s worth of his favourite lemonade-flavoured popsicles in one hand.

Kaito’s eyebrows shot up into the ceiling upon spotting the bag of goodies. “What’s this?” he asked.

“A thank you gift,” Len said, handing it over.

“Huh.” Kaito took them, a confused expression on his face. “What for?”

“Your idea about the date? It worked. Rin and I are a thing now.”

A lengthy silence followed.

“You mean… you two weren’t dating before?”

[maxgrayarchived]

The Walking Dead & Queer Representation

How many horror movies and tv shows can you name with queer protagonists? The Walking Dead has been on air for ten years now, and given its genre, it has a surprising amount of queer characters. The numbers themselves are nice, but when writing any minority, it’s important to have tact. 

    As an avid fan of The Walking Dead and a member of the queer community, I’ve taken it upon myself to break down how the show chooses to represent queer characters and what they’re doing right and wrong.

    First, a few disclaimers: 

    This post contains spoilers for seasons 1-9, including major character deaths. I won’t go over anything that happens past season 9. 

    Queer people are going to die. This is a zombie show. People die in every episode. It would be pandering for all the queer characters to stay alive throughout the entire show. 

    I am a pansexual transboy. The characters I’m talking about are assumed to be gay, cisgender boys and girls. Notice that my experience differs from theirs and if I say something that counteracts something a lesbian or a gay man says about the characters representing their identity, you should listen to them and not me.

    I like the word queer. I think it’s a great word and I’ll be using it a lot. Since almost nobody’s sexuality in confirmed in this show I use it a lot to avoid pan/bi/ace erasure. If you don’t like that word, be prepared for it now or accept that this post is not for you.

    Finally, this does NOT include things from Fear the Walking Dead. Fear the Walking Dead is… such a different show in so many ways, especially in LGBT+ representation, and that’s going to require a whole ass different post (how did they fuck up that show so bad). 

    Let’s get down to it! 

    Introductions & Coming Outs 

    Tara: 

    We meet Tara when the Governor wanders into her and her sister’s apartment building after seeing her niece, Meghan, in the window. She immediately puts herself between her family and a potential threat with a gun in her hand. She doesn’t take any of the Governor’s shit, and her first priority is making sure he knows that if he does anything to hurt her family, he’ll pay for it. Once that’s all out of the way, though, she lets a friendlier side of her show and jokes around with him. 

    Our first introduction to queer characters in the show is done well. There’s nothing about her that would ‘tip off’ to the fact that she’s a lesbian, and she’s her own, fleshed out character. 

    We find out she’s a lesbian after she and her family leaves with the Govorner. They’re walking down a street with trees lining each side, and she starts to complain about it reminding her of an ex-girlfriend and a date they went on. This is dropped so casually that I didn’t even notice it in the first watch. 

    It’s later confirmed she’s a lesbian (instead of pan/bi/etc) when Eugene hits on her and she says, “Yeah, I like girls.”

    She comes out (the first time) in such a casual way that I’m hesitant to even call it a coming out. If the Governor wasn’t there, and if we weren’t watching, it would just be a girl complaining to her sister about an ex.

    Alisha: 

    This is my only time mentioning Alisha because that’s how minor of a character she is. 

    We meet her when Tara’s sister, Lily, is stitching up her palm after Alisha “got cute with her knife” and cut herself. Tara is watching from a bit away, and starts flirting with her by talking about weapons. Alisha asks if she’s always this full of shit, and Tara says, “Yes, I am.” It’s a really cute moment. It’s not overtly sexual, it’s not predatory, it’s not weird, it’s just two girls flirting with each other. 

    This is a great way to casually slide in a gay relationship. It’s not made to be a big deal, it’s just another relationship in the story. Before they mentioned that Tara was gay, now they’re acting on that, instead of pussying out like other shows do.

    Aaron & Eric: 

    I’m putting these two in one category because, when we met them, they were together. 

    Our first impression of Aaron is when he comes up to Maggie and Sasha, unarmed, when they’re alone. He puts his hands in the air and asks to speak to Rick, saying that he’s a friend and he has good news. When Maggie and Sasha bring him back to the barn they’re holed down in, he tells them about his community, Alexandria, and welcomes them all to come home with him. He gives us no reason to distrust him (despite the very obvious ‘this is a stranger and generally strangers either try to rob, eat, or kill us’) and is, all and all, patient and understanding of the group’s distrust.

    We meet Eric approximately twenty five seconds before one of the cutest kisses in the show. He sees the panic on Aaron’s face and quickly tries to calm him down, explain his injury and that it’s not a big deal, and that Maggie fixed him up, and he likes her, and- And then Aaron, in a fit of overwhelming concern and relief, rushes up to him and interrupts him with a kiss. 

    One of the cutest kisses in the show. 

    Eric then teases Aaron for being worried about him, we get some domestic goodness when Eric gives Aaron a license plate for his collection, we’re rewarded with this face:

    and, all in all, it’s a good scene. It’s cute, it’s realistic, we can see how much these two care about each other, and Rick’s reaction will make me laugh until I die. 

    Denise: 

    When we first meet Denise, she is a scared, overwhelmed new doctor. She does her best to lower the bar and expresses concern that she isn’t actually capable of being the doctor of Alexandria. 

    At one point, Denise almost has a breakdown from stress and tells Tara that her patient’s condition is too fatal, and Denise isn’t capable of saving him. Tara tells her that being afraid if just something she’s going to have to get over. A little while later, after Denise manages to stabilize her patient’s condition and save his life, she goes over to Tara and kisses her. That’s how we learn she likes girls. Her and Tara continue a romantic relationship after that, and it’s all really cute and sweet.

    Jesus: 

    For those of you who don’t watch the show, quick disclaimer… “Jesus” is the nickname of the character Paul Rovia. We are not talking about Jesus Christ. Just to be clear. 

    Our first impression of Jesus is… Kind of fucking awesome. So far our queer characters have been, by and large, absolute dorks. When we first meet Jesus, he scams Rick and Daryl, snags their keys without them noticing, and steals their truck full of food and supplies. After then he puts up one hell of a fight during his and the duo’s back and forth (unfortunately, none of them are badass enough to save that big truck from sinking to the bottom of the lake. Good job, guys). He even saves Daryl’s life during that very same battle. Jesus continues to do badass things during his introduction, but you probably get the gist.

    Jesus’s coming out is so far my favourite in the show. In the season after he’s introduced, he’s having a talk with Maggie, admitting that he’s never really fit in with anyone. He thanks her for making Hilltop feel more like a home. He says, “I’ve always found it hard getting close to anyone- Neighbors, friends… Boyfriends.” Unlike Aaron and Eric, it’s a very casual coming out, mentioned only to someone he’s come to really trust and admire.

    I think the way Jesus expresses his sexuality is a very important distinction from the way Aaron and Eric express theirs. Aaron is glad to mention it any time it’s relevant- For example he has a talk with Daryl when they’re alone about being outsiders, telling Daryl (who’s having trouble acclimating to his time in Alexandria) that it does get better. He references his romantic relationship with Eric and how, paraphrasing, some otherwise really lovely boys and girls will say the most hilariously offensive things. Jesus’s sexuality is a much more personal thing to him. 

    Both of these characters are valid, and there is nothing wrong with the way either of them choose to express their love. There needs to be more pieces of media that have queer characters that differ in this way. 

    Magna & Yumiko: 

    Magna and Yumiko are introduced towards the end of the ninth season, so I don’t know very much about them. They’re part of a small group of survivors who are looking for a settlement that’ll take them in. Magna is very distrusting, especially of Michonne. She’s impulsive, and paranoid. Yumiko, as a foil, is calmer and more rational. She’s defensive about Magna (and the rest of her group) and protective. They have the potential to make a really good team- They balance each other out well. 

   We learn that they’re together when they agree to split up so Magna can help the main group with the current crisis, and Magna kisses Yumiko goodbye. There were times before it was confirmed that they hinted at their relationship, for instance when one of them had their head in the other’s lap in the background of a shot and were talking quietly. When talking to Michonne, Yumiko tells a story about Magna with a fond smile.

   I think, so far, they’re in the clear. 

   Personality Diversity 

   It seems obvious, but it’s important to make each character different. A lot of cishet people (and even some queer people) when writing queer characters for the first time seem to get fixated on whatever they think are ‘queer qualities.’ Every queer character they write ends up being the same one. Let’s go over the ways each queer character on The Walking Dead are their own, and can’t be lumped into the same. 

   Levels of capability: 

   Denise was an objectively weak character. She had been hidden behind the walls of Alexandria the entire apocalypse, had never killed a walker, and didn’t even know how to fight. But she died trying to be better. She asked for Daryl and Rosita’s help, people much more capable and experienced than her, and she risked her life for the good of the community.

   The other queer characters are all very capable of taking care of themselves, to various extents. Tara started in a bit of a rough spot. She was better off than Denise, though, in that she knew how to shoot a gun and, being out with the Governor, she quickly grew first hand experience. Eric didn’t have as much experience, but, like Denise, he was ready to step up when they needed him. I would put Aaron on the same combat level as Tara. I mentioned Jesus’s badassery- He’s on par with Rick, Daryl, and Michonne in my opinion. As for Magna and Yumiko, they specialize in teamwork. 

   Strong suits: 

   The show also, in my opinion, did a good job at not making them the Token Gay Characters because they each have their own strong suits. Tara is extremely determined and good at giving tough love when someone else is willing to give up. Jesus is clever and savvy (firecrackers in a trashcan?). Denise was a fucking doctor (pretty much). We don’t know much about Yumiko and Magna, but I’m sure they’ll have their own strengths as well. Each character has a specialty that’ll come in handy in different situations.

  Nuance: 

  I mentioned before that a lot of our queer characters have been pretty dorky. In my opinion, they’ve done a good job at leveling that out with Jesus, Magna, and Yumiko.

  I’d also just like to take a minute to mention Tara’s fashion. I feel like they HAVE to have a lesbian on costumes, because the way Tara dresses is just a detail that you’d only think of if you’re involved in the queer community.

  Look at all those fucking flannels. 

  Deaths

  With any character, killing them is a big decision and should not be taken lightly. Sure, there are some deaths that seem relatively minor (Carter’s death when the hoard from the quarry split into two, for example), and there are deaths that are HUGE (Glenn), but each and every one served a purpose. Killing characters off for shock value or for blood or just to keep things exciting are all signs of a bad or inexperienced writer. 

  It’s also important to remember what this post is about- How they’ve been representing queer characters. Death is a HUGE part of that, it could make or break their entire score. Death is a sensitive subject in the queer community due to the countless hate crimes that resulted in the deaths of queer people that went unresolved and unacknowledged. In most genres, killing queer people off at all is seen as a no-no (we’re murdered enough in real life). But, as I mentioned earlier, in a show set in the zombie apocalypse, people are going to die, and that includes queer people. That doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have tact.

  Denise: 

  Denise’s death is the easiest to see why it’s necessary. Let’s break it down. 

  Denise died the exact same death that Abraham did in the comic books. Why is this important? Because that gave Abraham the opportunity to be there when Negan was introduced, which is when he actually died, which Sasha saw, which pinned all of Sasha’s (and Rosita’s) anger on Negan. That led to a HUGE plot point, and Sasha’s own eventual death and the almost-victory of Rick Grimes and the almost-death of Negan! And even though all didn’t go fully to plan, it still created the distraction that was needed to begin the war, which drastically changed the course of the series. That’s why Denise died. So that Sasha could distract Negan and give Rick and his group the upper hand in the war. 

  I was SO sad when Denise died, but from a writer’s standpoint, it’s a death I can appreciate.

  Eric: 

  I’m not saying Eric’s death was pointless, because it didn’t feel pointless, but I can’t exactly pinpoint the reason. However, we don’t always get to know that right away or have it be obvious. I’m inclined to do a pass on this one.

  Now, onto the death itself. It was… So goddamn sad. In a fight for freedom from the Saviors, Eric was shot. Aaron immediately gets him out of the battle and brings him to a quiet place. Eric convinces him to keep fighting, because he knows that they need Aaron, saying “I can die here just fine on my own.” They say they love each other, and they kiss, and Aaron runs back to the fight. When Aaron gets back, Eric has turned and is wandering off in the distance. Another Alexandrian keeps Aaron from running after him, and comforts him.

  And, I’m adding this because I think it’s important, when Aaron gets back to Rick and the group, Rick is holding a little baby named Gracie (let’s not get into how he found this baby). He needs someone to take her back to the Kingdom, so she’ll be safe… And Aaron takes her. He says, please, I have to, let me take her. Aaron adopts a little baby girl.

  I personally think the death was done very well. Queerness aside, it was STRONG. It was so emotionally powerful. Aaron’s friend being there to help him and keep him from doing something stupid, him putting his mourning into doing something good (taking care of Gracie), and ESPECIALLY Eric himself telling Aaron to go, that there are more important things to be done. Emotionally speaking, it might be my favorite death in the series. It hurts, but I think it was done so well.

 Jesus: 

 Jesus’s death was fucking stupid.

 Like, I know, blahblahblah, it was important to the plot, we need to be mad at the Whisperers, we needed a reason to fight, blah fucking blah I’m still not over it. I fucking hate Jesus’s death. I WASN’T expecting it, and I’m fucking annoyed.

 The biggest reason I’m annoyed is because I was waiting for them to reveal Aaron and Jesus’s relationship. I’ll talk more about why that bothered me later, but the reason Jesus’s death was awful, was because it’s inextricable from this fatal flaw.

 Tara: 

 I’m writing this after seeing Tara’s death for the first time pretty recently. I’ve only seen it once, and the problems I have with the death aren’t the death itself at all. In fact, I think, queer-wise, it was done pretty well. I mean, it happened with a whole bunch of straighties, you know? It’s not like they put a bunch of queer kids’ heads on pikes, she was the only queer one. So I hesitantly say it was alright.

 Eric, Jesus, & Tara: 

 This is an important part that bothers me a bit. I’m not sure how serious it is, because I very well could just be being sensitive, but… Jesus’s death happened VERY suddenly, and then right after that we lost Tara. And Eric’s death hadn’t happened too long before, either. Especially when, in comparison to the straighties, we have such a small cast of queer characters, to lose so many of them so fast… It was kind of exhausting. I’d love to hear other queer fans’ thoughts about this and if you think I’m being overdramatic, or if you feel similarly.

 What Did They Do Wrong? 

 Before closing out the post, let’s sum everything up and give some final thoughts. 

 Jesus’s death and his relationship with Aaron: 

 I was absolutely devastated when Jesus died, and not in the good way. I accidentally read a “spoiler” that said Aaron was Jesus’s boyfriend, so I was waiting for that to be revealed. Every time Aaron and Jesus were in danger, I wasn’t scared at all, because I thought they can’t die without revealing that first.

 And, I mean, after that six year gap SO many straighties were revealing their relationships. Not a single gay relationship? Not a single fucking one? I was waiting for Jesus and Aaron to reveal their relationship and instead, one of them died. 

 And it wasn’t just the spoiler that did this. My sister didn’t know this spoiler, and she thought they were going to get together, too. But it wasn’t just “oh there are two gay guys in the same room they HAVE to get together.” We’ve both seen scenes with the two of them together in previous seasons, and neither of us had ever thought they were going to get together. After that six year gap, Aaron and Jesus had chemistry. It seemed like they purposefully set them up just to kill one of them.

 No trans characters: 

 It’s been ten fucking years PLEASE give me a trans character. Or, and I know, this is crazy, but maybe a couple. Unless of course the zombies have a particular taste for transies and we were all killed off at the start. 

 I would KILL for a transguy character who can’t bind and doesn’t pass, but all the good characters are calling him by the correct pronouns anyway and it’s not a big deal. 

 Please. Add some trans characters. 

 Missed opportunities: 

 My best way of explaining this is calling back to a minor character, a man who got bit after the hoard from the quarry split in half. He’s talking about his wife, how he wants to get back to her and say goodbye. He could have easily been talking about his husband. 

 Some people might disagree, saying that since he’s bit and he’s going to die, that this would be a really bad idea, but… I don’t think so. There’s enough major queer characters in the show to balance this out, and, I mean, come on, it’s a show about zombies. People die every episode. This gay man just happened to be one of them. We don’t even meet his wife! It would be so easy. 

 I think it’s a weakness that their only queer characters are major characters, because background characters are part of what reminds you that there’s a whole world out there. It’s part of the immersion. If we never meet any queer background characters, it makes the major characters outliers. I realize this is nitpicking, but it’s been ten fucking years. I’m not going to take the time to tally up every single character, major and minor, in The Walking Dead and label them as assumed straight or confirmed queer, but we can all guess what that list would look like. 

 What Did They Do Right? 

 They made sure to always have at least one queer character: 

 We’re missing our queer characters in the first two seasons, but once we have Tara, we have at least one queer character to look up to in every single season. Some cishet people might think this is pandering, but it’s a very important part (NOT the entirety) of avoiding the Bury Your Gays trope.

 Every time they killed a queer character, there was a reason: 

 They’re not just slicing and dicing. 

 Personality differences: 

 They’re all their very own character, and there’s not any “queer traits.”

Coming outs: 

They were all in character and done realistically.

They didn’t queer-bait or introduce a gay character just to kill them:

Every queer character so far has had a decent shelf life. For major characters, let’s keep it that way.

xxx

Talk to me about this! I want to know what you agree with me on, what you don’t, whether you’re fans of The Walking Dead or not. 

Question/s of the month: 

My first question is for people of colour, both those of you who are fans of The Walking Dead and who aren’t: How do you feel about how the Walking Dead chooses to represent people of colour? Go crazy, ramble as long as you want, I really want to know! 

My second question is a request: Please recommend me movies and tv shows in the horror genre specifically that have queer characters! Whether it’s done well or not, I want to see them all (I’ve already seen It: Chapter 2 and I love American Horror Story). 

Let me know what you think about this series, please! I want to do one on the horror genre as a whole and The Good Place, so if this is well received, I’ll get started on that!

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Writing Ramblings

Adding my zombie apocalypse wips tag list:

@nemowritesstuff​ @sidhewrites​  

[thesinglesjukebox]

LADY GAGA - STUPID LOVE

[6.42]

Far from "Shallow" now...

Brad Shoup: Thudding sixteenths and vocal chop straight out of a Todd Edwards remix... it's always great when she visits. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: It must be exhausting to be Lady Gaga. Here's a short list of her accomplishments since 2013's ARTPOP: winning a Grammy for a jazz duets album, winning a Golden Globe for her role in American Horror Story, headlining the Super Bowl, co-hosting arguably the best Met Gala in years, winning an Oscar for A Star is Born, getting a number one Billboard single from the soundtrack, launching a vegan make-up line, and starring in a Las Vegas residency. And yet, the dominant critical narrative has still essentially been: Gaga is absent from pop music. (For comparison, Katy Perry has been a judge on American Idol.) Of course, her self-mythologizing is partially to blame for this, but it's unclear what could have possibly satisfied her critics and die-hard fans outside of re-reinventing music à la 2010. So what's her move given the weight of the world's impossible expectations? To make simple, unpretentious pop music on her own terms. In a recent Billboard interview, she laughed while stating, "I would like to put out music that a big chunk of the world will hear, and it will become a part of their daily lives, and make them happy every single day." My first reaction upon reading this was: yes, we should hold Gaga to a higher standard because she's Gaga, but how can we balance that with the potentially damaging effects for her mental health and sanity? So on "Stupid Love" when she sings, "Now it's time to free me from this chain/I gotta find that peace, is it too late?" I like to hope it's meta-commentary on her rediscovering the joy in her music and being, free of expectation. Gaga tracks are often described as "huge" or "epic", but none has ever so perfectly embodied "fun." I'm definitely excited about how this track sounds -- an ebullient return to her earliest disco pop roots, at a time when radio is dominated by trap -- but "Stupid Love" stands out to me because of her embrace of radical self-love. This is the Gaga that I've always loved -- and she's always been enough. [9]

Leah Isobel: The production filters back an entire decade's worth of Stefani's influence into a three-minute Fruit Gusher burst of tang, but the lyrics are decidedly forward-looking, all declarative statements of "now is the time!" bullshit. In the middle of this past/present/future time-play, as the beat drops out beneath her, she asserts the key line: "all I ever wanted was lahv." If it's a disappointingly shallow retcon for an artist whose initial breadth and ambition was the entire point, the promise of it lingers in my brain. After all, it's not too far from a similar pop megalomaniac realizing that she "traded fame for love without a second thought" about 20 years ago. That rich vein of popstar self-examination writ large is so suited to Gaga's talents as an artist -- a provocateur, fake-deep philosopher, musical theatre nerd, and hook-writing master all at once -- that I have listened to this song five times in a row pretty much every single day since it, uh, appeared on the internet. My paws are reluctantly up, Stef. Don't fuck it up. [7]

Jessica Doyle: Fun, and otherwise unremarkable. If you've been a Gaga fan for a while -- if you're invested in the narrative of this hardworking woman, who has been through downs and ups and downs and then ups again -- I imagine the fun is enhanced by a certain comfort and relief in seeing her have fun; in imagining her feeling strong and secure enough to release a fun song that doesn't have to upend anything. But I am a heartless, acontextual consumer, for whom the marginal cost of listening to something else is zero, and I miss "Bad Romance." [5]

Tobi Tella: For an artist who at her peak overstuffed everything with too many ideas, there's really not much happening here. It's loud and upbeat, sure, but the lyrics are barely the thread of a coherent song, and the production reminds everyone who wants "pure" pop to come back to be careful what they wish for. Maybe that A Star is Born "pop music bad guitar music good" cynicism rubbed off too much? [4]

Katherine St Asaph: Just when I thought Gaga was lost to the land of Real Music™, or worse, flailing attempts to be chill by the least chill performer in pop music (yes, including Taylor Swift), she goes and releases this, 50,000 firecrackers on a Eurovision stage. The thicket of hooks is packed, with Black Midi levels of referential density. The whole thing sounds like "Born This Way," which is to say it sounds like "Express Yourself"; there's a juddering sequencer out of "Do What U Want" (reminds me more of "Weekend" by Class Actress, but which is more likely to be the actual inspiration?) and a touch of, of all things, September's "Cry For You." Gaga fills every crevice of the song with singing, throaty and belty and huge: a relief after years of songs filled only with half-assed #vibes. If it feels frivolous against much of Born This Way and The Fame Monster and some of Artpop, and far less ambitious, it at least pulls her out of the "Shallow" piano muck. [7]

Vikram Joseph: Perhaps a stupid song about making stupid choices is the Lady Gaga lead single we both need and deserve in 2020. The battering-ram synths feel like running down a hill into a gale-force wind; the best thing about "Stupid Love" is that Gaga sounds like she's having a lot of fun, and by extension so are we. [7]

Alex Clifton: "Stupid Love," much like "Born This Way" before it, is ready-made for pride parades, grown from the same mystical lab that gave Lady Gaga her incredible melodic sensibilities. Unlike its predecessor, though, it has more euphoria in it, presumably because it's not making a political point. Gaga's more focused on having fun here, and you can tell. The verses aren't my favourite, but the chorus hits as an overwhelming rush of dopamine, and now I can't stop dancing in my computer chair. Between this and Dua Lipa's album, we're in for a hell of a good time for pop music this spring, and I am extremely excited. [7]

Thomas Inskeep: She was doing this better a decade ago. A lot better. [2]

Joshua Lu: The narrative surrounding "Stupid Love" regards it a return to the Pop Gaga that's been mostly absent since 2013: A revival if you're a fan, a regression if you're not. The issue with this narrative is that "Stupid Love" lacks any key similarities to the Gaga of yesteryear; the only real sonic link is how the bassline brings to mind the since-redacted "Do What U Want" beat. Instead we have something that's somehow not a Kygo song, with vocal chirps that got old last year, serviceable but clichéd hooks (the entire pre-chorus has all the charm of a Taio Cruz album track), remarkably basic lyrics filled with platitudes, and a title that has no bearing on anything in the song -- there's nothing lyrically or aurally stupid about anything here, and Gaga has shown a deep capacity to be stupid in her past pop works. In reality, what we have here isn't a return to anything, but rather the continued flagging of Gaga's desire to develop genuinely off-beat or interesting pop music, whether intentional or not. Gaga's talents as a vocalist elevate the song beyond the usual pop pap, but it's not nearly at the level I once hoped she could remain at. [6]

Alfred Soto: Kudos to Jamieson Cox for catching an obvious forebear: the rattling sequencer recalls 2013's forgotten "Do What U Want," which was all set to do some business until radio programmers remembered R. Kelly had been a menace for years. Amiably confusing lack of affect with simplicity, "Stupid Love" flexes its pop strength with the expectation that fans will admire it. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The synths pack a punch but they never quite get me to where I should be. I wanna feel desperation, exasperation -- that love is worth looking stupid for. All I get is a familiar, quasi-stoic performance that sounds like Gaga's doing some excellent karaoke. [4]

Kayla Beardslee: Sure, it's competent, but Gaga is capable of so much more. Many other blurbs will discuss the song's aggressive datedness and bland lyrics, but what really bothers me is that the two halves of "Stupid Love" -- the dramatic vocals and the unrelenting gallop of the synths -- don't fit together. Gaga is giving her all with those signature "laahv"s, but there's just not enough empty space left for her in the production. Her performance ends up laying flat on top of the track, adding nothing except a sense of laziness from her producers and engineers. [5]

Pedro João Santos: Serviceable Max Martin bopathon scams its way into my brain again -- no matter how direly in need of an incubator this whole structure is. Gaga's weakest lead single feeds you Kygo, threatens to ascend during "All I ever wanted was love", and still can't fight the aura of afterthought. [6]

Jibril Yassin: "Stupid Love" is a giddy rush of EDM-pop fun, but it's the first time experiencing a major Gaga single entirely devoid of surprises. Bracing yourself for a twist that never arrives or a strange turn of vocals rearing its head from nowhere, "Stupid Love" makes up for its unremarkableness with a masterclass in songwriting. What Lady Gaga hasn't forgotten how to do is translate the feeling of having your initial gut feelings completely validated. "Stupid Love" makes its magic in casting the act of love as necessary and dare I say it -- radical. [7]

Jackie Powell: On "Stupid Love" Lady Gaga achieved a corollary. By trying to put her healing process into simple poetry, she also created an accompanying sound that's comparable to an analgesic. The function of the track is to heal and liberate. (Truth be told, Little Monster or not, the song has helped me get out of bed in the morning.) Gaga's latest cut is packaged into a familiar formula, and that's part of the reason why this track serves as a formidable lead single and symbol for the upcoming Chromatica. The equation is one that mirrors the "best of" Stefani Germanotta. What's brilliant about "Stupid Love" is that its visual and lyrical messaging and surrounding sonic arrangement and melody bring what Little Monsters and casual music fans with a Gaga fascination expect. And that's okay. She has told Oprah that her goal now isn't just to shock people but rather to exude authenticity. She stirs elements from all of her pop eras into the most hearty and flavourful version of Gaga soup (and that does include Joanne contrary to popular belief.) Each ingredient works and is soluble. She tossed in the elements of the The Fame that made fans want to Just Dance and sprinkled some catchy Swedish-sounding pop melodies (Max Martin, hello!) and sung onomatopoeia from The Fame Monster, à la the "hey-ah, hey-ahs." A suspenseful build, uniquely potent and soaring vocals are ounces of Born This Way. Don't worry, ARTPOP is doused on this track not only in color, but in sound. There's a reason why that sped up "Do What U Want"-esque bassline works. There's a contrast between her bright vocal performance and the electronic bass' darkness. Joanne comes across in the allegorical concept which once again can be interpreted to reflect the current American experience. Music video director Daniel Askill confirmed that Gaga wanted to portray the "warring tribes as a metaphor for the state of the world today." So, Mother Monster is on a mission to introduce the world to her new brainchild, ever-developing ideologies and honest ways to examine life. "Stupid Love" isn't the end-all but merely the beginning. Paws up and welcome to Chromatica bitches. [8]

Nortey Dowuona: NOPE! WAIT. wait. This is actually a welcome back for... the bass, who is joined by his drumming sister, his synth bros and Lady Gaga, who has come here from the Make A Wish Foundation to take him around New York. They have a wonderful day together, with the synth bros getting their percussive background vocal girlfriend an NYPD hoodie, and the experience convinces Lady Gaga to make bright, happy pop music again! (The bass, in the midst of a happy dance, got hit by her limo and had to go back to the hospital.) [8]

Scott Mildenhall: Between its hyperventilating over-excitement and ever-exciting hyper-sincerity, Gaga seems to have finally created a pop emergency. The false alarm of "Applause" was overstuffed and underpowered, but "Stupid Love" redresses that balance by going harder and clearer, like a newly thawed cut from a cryogenically frozen, course-correcting Artpop Monster edition. Time might seem to have turned in on itself, but no: the greater lyrical directness arrives in a way that feels culminatory. The plainspokenness of that indelible "all I ever wanted was love" makes it almost an epitaph, grounding it in a present in which all experience has been lived, and all realisations are realised. Undeniably, Lady Gaga is not dead, but this is what she knows. [8]

Will Adams: I defended "The Cure" and lamented the immense pressure on Gaga to make every release the Next Big Thing, however even that soured when it turned out to be part of A Star Is Born's ~superficial pop~ world. So where to next, when she's caught between turgid rock balladry and ill-fitting trop-pop? On "Stupid Love," we get the best possible outcome: whizzing past Joanne, making a brief stop at Artpop but ultimately landing on the dazzling excess of Born This Way. Like any good synthpop number, the synths display a wide range of textures: they tunnel, they drill, they poof, they gleam. Gaga is more than willing to match their energy. Noteworthy, though, is that she takes a brief pause only on the pre-chorus's "all I ever wanted was love"; even the way the title scans it almost sounds like she could be singing "I want just to be loved." This is the essence of pop: amidst the big dumb fireworks display, a human message at the core. [7]

[chelleaslin]

Lukadrien June 2019 Day 9- Not Alone

@miraculouschallenges

“There you are!” Luka sighed as he finally found the guy he had been searching for all night, the birthday boy. Adrien had hired a hall out for his birthday, in secret of course. His Father didn’t want him celebrating his 18th birthday,he claimed that it’d be far too reckless of the boy. Adrien was completely devastated until his best friend, Nino, had this idea.

“Here I am.” Adrien sighed sadly from where he sat on the cold, concreate. It was just past 10pm and Adrien went MIA. Everyone was wondering where he had run off to and rumours started spreading about the ‘golden child’ finally losing his virginity.

Luka was a little miffed upon hereing this and went to look for the younger man right away, only, he couldn’t find him anywhere. Almost half an hour later and Luka found him out the back of the venue, sitting on the concrete, staring up at the stars.

“Are you okay? You kinda disappeared on everyone back there.” Luka laughed, breathlessly as he join Adrien on the ground. Adrien sigh, closing his eyes, his head still thrown back. Luka couldn’t help the way his mouth went dry, Adrien truely was a beautiful human. His blue eyes racked over his blonde hair, he had switched up his style few years back, opting to keep the top short and the side shaved, it made him look older. Luka subconsciously started to play with his much longer pony tail.

“I just-“ Adrien hesitated. “I need some air.”

Luka nodded, not bothering to mention that Adrien had been gone for over an hour now.

“Well when your ready, we should get back in their before the rumours get worse.” He faked a laughed. He cursed himself inwardly, he was a jealous idiot. He had no reason to bring up the silly, childish talk that was happened inside, to Adrien other than the fact that it gave him the upper hand to pry if the boy had done the deed tonight. He looked around, there really wasn’t anywhere he could go and do it and not a single person in site.

Luka sighed, even if Adrien did, he was legal and his own person, why did he care so much. A nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Sass told him he knew exactly why this was hurting him so much.

“What rumours?” Adrien piked up, fear in his eyes.

Great, now you scared the kid on his birthday.

“Uh, it’s nothing-“ he hesitated, “just that you’ve left the party to have sex..” he mumbled the last part, hoping Adrien didn’t hear it but the way his green eyes widen and a blush burned at his cheeks, he had heard.

“I-me-did..what?” He mumbled, completely mortified. “No, no, no, no, no.” He shook his head violently, as if to get the pure thought of it out of his mind. “I-I didn’t.. I swear.”

Luka held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, it’s okay!” He laughed. “Calm down. I believe you.” He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. Adrien seemed to viable relax under his touch, all his once tense muscles loosening.

It was silent for a few minutes, both boys just admiring th stars and enjoying each others company. Luka checked the time on his phone, he’d been out here for quite sometime, meaning Adrien had been ‘missing’ longer. He better get them back to the party. He stood up and stenched, rubbing his butt that was numbed by the cold concrete.

“Hey, we should-“

“I was offered to have sex tonight!” He blurted out.

Luka froze. He turned to Adrien with wide eyes, what the actual fuck was that. Adrien looked just as shocked that he had blurted such private information, his green eyes just as wide.

“Explain?” Luka choked out. Adrien’s face was bright red, he turned to stare at the ground, playing with his fingers nervously but he spoke anyway.

“Chloe.” He cleared his throat. “She offered to, Uh, rip the band-aid off.”

Luka felt a little sick hearing that. He knew that Chloe had feelings for him, feelings she had harboured for many, many years but to hear someone that claimed to care, to love him, talk about his first time like that, like it was a burden, it sickened him. Luka loved Adrien, there was no deniying that anymore, he wanted to hold him, kiss him, comfort him and make love to him. He wanted his first time to be slow and gentle, he just wanted him to feel loved. He sighed as he pushed those fantasies away, he needed to reply.

“Oh, that’s...nice?” He awkwardly replied. Adrien sent him a glare before glaring back at the ground.

“No, it’s not. Don’t lie.” Adrien spat. “It was disgusting and disrespectful.”

Luka apologised quietly before sitting back down.

“Can I ask why you said no?” Luka awkwardly asked. Adrien sighed, throwing his head back as he did so. He rolled hishead to the side and gave Luka a bitchface.

“Other then the obvious?” Luka nodded. Adrien thought for a second before speaking. “I know it’s expected of young males to be horny..” Luka gave him a weird look. “I’m not saying I’m not horny! I am.” An even weirder look. “Oh, god! Not right now, I’m not horny right now!” He yelled. Luka started to chuckle at the absurdity of this conversation.

“Noted.” He winked making Adrien groaned and bury his red face in his hands.

“I’m just saying I’m healthy, I do get horny, but I’m not in a rush to loose my virginity like most people.” He glanced at Luka who was giving him a unidentifiable look, he panicked. “No offence.” He rushed out. Luka furrowed his brow.

“Non taken?”

“Good. Well, I want to wait for the right person and the right time. Losing it to Chloe half drunk at my 18th isn’t exactly ideal to me. Actually just to Chloe in general.” He screwed his face up, making his button nose crinkled. It took everything in Lukas power not to lean over and kiss it.

“Actually just having sex with Chloe in a no-no, or any other girl, ever.” Luka froze, breaking away from his thoughts on Adrien’s nose and stared at the boy with widen eyes. “I can’t see my first time or anytime after that being with a women, oh god” he turned to Luka, his eyes wide as well.

“I think I might be gay.” He gasped. Luka choked on nothing, sending him into a coughing fit. Adrien panicked and slammed his hand down on his back with enough for to send Luka buckling forward. “Sorry!” Adrien apologised sheepishly.

“You-what?” Luka coughed, giving him a look of pure horror and maybe a tinged if excitement from other parts of his body.

Adrien gave him a flat look, Luka didn’t understand why.

“If your going going to be homophobic about this than-“

“What? No! I would-“

“Some people just like to have sex with men, okay?” Adrien raised his voice over Luka, cutting him off. Luka was mortified, what could he say to even get this kid to listen to him.

“Adrien, Listen, the thing is-“

“No! Okay?” Adrien snapped. “I’ve been thinking about this for forever! Literally my whole life, it’s been there at the back of my mind. Always pushed away and always ignore but no, I give up, it’s time for the truth to come out, it’s time for me to come out.” Adrien stood up, wobling on his legs a little. Luka wondered then, how much had he actually drank? “I’m Adrien Agreste and I’m gay!” He yelled out into the night air.

Luka jumped at his volume, quickly scrambling to get onto his feet and stop the boy, he clamped his hand down kver Adrien mouth, muffling whatever he was about to yell next.

“Adrien, quiet.” He hissed, face heating up as his blue eyes darting around to look for witnesses. Adrien bit down on his hand and pushed him way, a very angry expression on his cute face.

“You will not silence me with you homophobic ways!” He screamed, a fingering pointed right between his eyes, actually touching his glabella. “I want a cock in my ass and you can’t change that.” Luka felt like crying, from amusement or horror, he wasn’t sure. “You are a pathetic homophobe but I am the mighty gay!”

Luka grabbed the boy by his shoulders and shook him a little to get his attention.

“Me too, okay? You’re not alone!” He yelled back. Adrien seem to freeze as he took in the new infomation, his tipsy brain taking longer to process what Luka just told him.

“You want a cock in your ass too?”

Lukas face heated up, oh my god!

“Not exactly...” he drawled out “but I’m gay too.”

Adrien was silent for a moments more before a grin broke up on his face.

“That’s awesome now I have an experienced gay to ask all my questions too!” He cheered with glee. “Do you top or bottom? Or both? Because I’ve heard the phrase, a pancake isn’t finished tills it’s been flipped on both side, which I guess makes sense.”

Luka’s ears were burning because of how hard he was blushing . He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, for as long as he’d known Adrien, the boy had been quiet innocent. It was an on going joke amoung everyone that knew him, that must protect his innocents at all times. Yet here he was openly talking about sex, quite vulgarly as well.

“I-I don’t..” Luka stuttered, he pointed at himself as he spoke. “Virgin?” It came out as more of a question but Adrien seem to get what he ment. His mouth fell open in a small ‘o’ shape. “Yeah..” Luka awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“Well,d-do you wanna...” Adrien drawled out. Luka gasped as he realised what Adrien was suggesting, did he want to have sex with? His stomach fluttered with nerves, this was it it was finally happen, oh god.

“Yes, god, please, yes.” Luka gasped out. Adrien gave him a weird look.

“Did kmow you wanted to get back to the party that bad?” He laughed, pulling himself of the ground. “Come on, lest go?” He offered his hand to Luka how was too busy cringing, oh god. He wanted to go back inside not have sex, holy shit, he almost fucked that one up.

“Yeah, it’s just cold out here.” He lamely replied. He grasped Adrien’s hand, allowing himself to be lifted off the ground and onto his feet. Together they walked hand and hand back into the party. New rumours started after that, but each boy didn’t really seem to mind.