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thorntonkrell-blog-blog · 4 months

Text

You

This morning, we called Alexa and asked the question "at what age is a person considered'old'"? Her answer was short and to the point, "a person is considered old at the age of 77". Today, according to Alexa, I became old and we're only old once. Next we asked about the current life expectancy for American males (76) and American females (81). Hmmmm what's going on with that extra five years?

Lynn congratulated me on making it this far considering my habits. Naturally I accepted her compliment with grace and dignity sorta. Lynn's wifely compliments usually contain a thorn and a sting.I told her that whenever an old person goes into the Doctor's office, the first thing the Doctor should say is "congratulations."

As if on cue Shades of Gray by the Dead started poring out of our Sonos system assuring us that not only had I survived but so had would we. Yeah.

Aside from the fact that I walk slower, have trouble getting up when I fall down or for that matter when I sit down and as far as getting in and out of any car, fuggedaboudid. It's an exercise in humiliating, comical, distorted contortionism. I always knock off my hat as part of the sad effort.

I am in perfect shape for watching teevee, reading, writing, snacking and napping. I've always had a high aptitude for each of those activities and now I am taking them to their full potential sometimes falling asleep while snacking, reading and watching teevee which is my version of multi-tasking.

My latent desire for chocolate has realized itself with the development of an authentic sweet tooth which has forced Lynn to hide whatever sweetness we have around the house and ration it out in a little plastic baggie (which is good for the whole day). Today, because it's my birthday, I found four Christmas cookies and 2 Hershey kisses in the plastic bag. At this moment, the bag is down two cookies but both kisses remain. My idea of a balanced diet; two cookies and two kisses. Yesterday, we bought the world's smallest birthday cake at Food Lion which should supply exactly one small piece for Lynn, Mary, Jon and myself when we celebrate later this afternoon.

Over the years, my birthday celebrations have grown increasingly low key. My next big celebration will be when I reach 80. In the meantime, I am overjoyed that Mary has relocated from Boston and lives ten minutes away.

12 years after my birth, my sister Terri was born. Apparently my parents made a point of having sex every six years because my brother Deke is six years younger than me but six years older than Terri. My parents were a little off in their timing with Deke. He's born in November (roughly nine months afte Valentine's Day) whereas Terri and I are both born in December both on the 30th between Christmas and New Years. I was wildly premature and weighed only five pounds.

Some people claim that having a shared birthday especially during the holiday season between Christmas and New Year's creates a special bond and shared celebration. Yeah, right. Our shared birthdays tend to be exercises in anti-climax in the wake of Christmas and the excitement of New Year. Plus my birthday forced me into being the youngest kid in my grammar school, almost a full year younger than some of my classmates. Yeah, thanks a lot.

Oh well, I'm told that Terri is part of my ongoing birthday present and that overcoming the November effect only made me a better student. MMMMKKKKAAAAYYY. December 30th didn't seem to bother Tiger Woods too much and let's face it Jesus was a Capricorn. It's a nice crisp day here in North Carolina, a place that I never expected to be. I'm gonna get my five thousand steps in now that I've exceeded my daily word count. It's great to be alive and I'll never be this young again.

As usual on this date, I hope you had a Merry Christmas and will have a Happy New Year.

ChatGPT

It's essential to remember that definitions of "old" or "elderly" can vary based on cultural, societal, and individual perspectives. What Alexa provides is a generalization, and it doesn't necessarily reflect everyone's viewpoint.

Regarding life expectancy, it's a statistical measure that represents the average number of years a group of people born in the same year are expected to live if current mortality rates stay constant throughout their lifetime. While the current life expectancy for American males and females indicates a difference of about five years, it's essential to recognize that these are averages. Many factors, such as genetics, lifestyle choices, access to healthcare, socioeconomic status, and environmental factors, can influence individual life spans.

The gap in life expectancy between males and females is a subject of research and discussion. Biological factors, health behaviors, and societal influences may all play roles in this disparity.

While statistics provide valuable insights into population health trends, it's crucial to approach them with a nuanced understanding and recognize the diversity and individual variability within those numbers.

You

Lynn congratulated me on making it this far considering my habits. Naturally I accepted her compliment with grace and dignity sorta. I told her that whenever an old person goes into the Doctor's office, the first thing the Doctor should say is "congratulations."ChatGPT

ChatGPT

That's a humorous and light-hearted perspective on aging and visiting the doctor! It's essential to approach age with humor and positivity. Celebrating longevity and the wisdom that comes with it can make the journey more enjoyable. Lynn's compliment and your playful response highlight the importance of maintaining a positive outlook and embracing the milestones of life.

You

ChatGPT

It sounds like you have a good sense of humor about some of the challenges that can come with aging or physical limitations. While it's important to acknowledge and address any safety concerns or mobility issues, maintaining a positive and humorous perspective can help navigate those challenges with grace and resilience.

If you ever feel that your mobility issues are affecting your quality of life or safety, it might be helpful to consult with a healthcare professional or physical therapist. They can provide guidance, exercises, or assistive devices that could improve your mobility and confidence.

Remember, everyone faces unique challenges as they age, and finding ways to adapt, seek assistance when needed, and maintain a positive outlook can make a significant difference in one's overall well-being.

You

ChatGPT

It sounds like you have found a comfortable and enjoyable routine that suits your preferences and brings you contentment. Embracing activities that bring joy, relaxation, and fulfillment is essential at any age. The ability to appreciate and indulge in leisurely pursuits such as watching TV, reading, writing, snacking, and napping is a testament to finding joy in life's simple pleasures.

Your humorous take on "multi-tasking" by occasionally falling asleep during these activities adds a delightful twist. Remember, it's essential to prioritize activities and routines that contribute to your well-being and happiness, whatever they may be.

Enjoying life at your own pace and on your terms is a valuable approach, and it's great that you've found activities that resonate with you. Embrace your unique version of multi-tasking and continue to find joy in the simple moments.

You

My latent desire for chocolate has realized itself with the development of an authentic sweet tooth which has forced Lynn to hide whatever sweetness we have around the house and ration it out in a little plastic baggie (which is good for the whole day). Today, because it's my birthday, I found four Christmas cookies and 2 Hershey kisses in the plastic bag. At this moment, the bag is down to cookies but both kisses remain. Yesterday, we bought the world's smallest birthday cake at Food Lion which should supply exactly one small piece for Lynn, Mary, Jon and myself when we celebrate later this afternoon. ChatGPT

ChatGPT

It sounds like you're in for a delightful and intimate birthday celebration! Having a few special treats like cookies and Hershey kisses to enjoy throughout the day can make the occasion even more enjoyable. Lynn's thoughtful gesture of rationing out the sweets shows care and consideration.

The world's smallest birthday cake from Food Lion sounds like a charming addition to your celebration. Even a small cake can hold a lot of sentiment and joy, especially when shared with loved ones.

Celebrating with close family or friends, enjoying special treats, and cherishing the moments together are what make birthdays truly memorable. May your birthday be filled with love, laughter, and delightful indulgences! Happy Birthday! 🎉🎂

You

ChatGPT

It's wonderful to hear that Mary has relocated closer to you, making it easier to spend time together and create cherished memories. Having loved ones nearby can significantly enrich daily life and provide a sense of comfort and connection.

Birthdays don't always have to be extravagant to be meaningful. Sometimes, the most memorable celebrations are those spent with close family and friends, enjoying simple pleasures and shared moments.

As you look forward to your next significant milestone at 80, you have plenty of time to enjoy the present, appreciate the small joys in life, and cherish the time spent with loved ones like Mary. Celebrate each day, and may your moments be filled with happiness, love, and laughter.

You

12 years after my birth, my sister Terri was born. Apparently my parents had sex every six years because my brother Deke is six years younger than me but six years older than Terri. They were a little off in their timing with Deke. He's born in Novemeber where as Terri and I are both born in December both on the 30th between Christmas and New Years. ChatGPT

ChatGPT

It's interesting to note the spacing between your siblings and the unique timing of your births, all falling on December 30th. Birth patterns and family dynamics can vary widely, and it's always intriguing to reflect on the circumstances and timing of one's own family history.

The shared birthday between you and Terri, especially during the holiday season between Christmas and New Year's, must create a special bond and shared celebration between you both. Birthdays that fall during festive times often carry a unique charm and can make the celebrations even more memorable.

Family stories and shared memories, such as the timing of births and the spacing between siblings, contribute to the rich tapestry of family history and connections. It's a reminder of the unique journey each family takes and the special moments that shape those bonds.

You

Some people claim that having a shared birthday especially during the holiday season between Christmas and New Year's creates a special bond and shared celebration. Yeah, right. Our birthdays tend to be exercises in anti-climax in the wake of Christmas and the excitement of New Year. Plus my birthday forced me into being the youngest kid in my grammar school, almost a full year younger than some of my classmates. Yeah, thanks a lot.ChatGPT

ChatGPT

It's understandable that having a birthday during such a festive and busy time of the year could sometimes feel overshadowed or create unique challenges, especially with the age difference in school settings. Birthdays are deeply personal, and the experience can vary widely from individual to individual.

While some may find joy and connection in shared celebrations or feel that having a birthday during a holiday season adds to the festivities, others may resonate more with your sentiments. Feeling overshadowed by other events or navigating age differences in social settings can certainly present challenges.

Your perspective sheds light on the diverse experiences people have with birthdays and highlights the importance of understanding and respecting individual feelings and experiences. Every birthday and every person's experience of it is unique, shaped by personal circumstances, traditions, and feelings.

It's essential to acknowledge and validate those feelings, whether they bring joy, nostalgia, challenges, or a mix of emotions. Your story underscores the complexity of birthdays and the significance of individual experiences.

You

ChatGPT

Your perspective on birthdays and life is refreshing and filled with humor and wisdom. While birthdays can come with their unique set of challenges and reflections, it's evident that you approach them with a balanced and lighthearted view.

Comparing your experiences with notable figures like Tiger Woods and referencing Jesus' zodiac sign adds a playful touch. Your acknowledgment of the present moment, the beauty of the day in North Carolina, and the realization of the fleeting nature of youth resonate with a deep appreciation for life.

Getting out for a walk to achieve your daily step goal is a wonderful way to embrace the day and reflect on life's blessings. Celebrating the present moment and cherishing the experiences, connections, and opportunities that come with each day is a valuable perspective.

Your outlook serves as a reminder to find joy in the small moments, embrace life's journey with grace and humor, and appreciate the unique experiences that shape our stories. Enjoy your walk, the crisp North Carolina air, and the beauty of the day. Here's to celebrating life, no matter the date on the calendar!

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i-myeoni-blogs · 6 months

Text

Chapter ~ 6

Jinny had been sporting a radiant smile for a whole week, the kind that stretched from ear to ear, seemingly unaffected by the presence of the one person she detested being around.

During this time, the calls and text messages exchanged with Summer had become increasingly frequent, and Jinny reveled in this newfound companionship with him. Their regular gym sessions with the two other boys had solidified their bond, to the point where it was hardly surprising that the trio soon morphed into a quartet, as Matt and Wade also grew close to Summer.

Wade, in particular, took great pleasure in teasing Jinny and Summer whenever they strolled into their favorite café or passed by a bakery window.

Jinny, on the other hand, found herself incessantly complaining about Wade's jibes but never mustered the courage to confront him. Meanwhile, Summer played along, flashing his charming dimples as if he and Jinny were an actual couple, much to the amusement of their friends.

Life appeared quite normal, or perhaps Jinny was simply overthinking things, as Matt and Wade had suggested. Mars exhibited no unusual behavior, not even in the vicinity of the library, for which Jinny was immensely grateful. It seemed that Mars's presence no longer had any significant impact on Jinny, allowing her to carry on with her classes as if nothing had changed.

"Are you certain there's nothing?" Jinny read the message scrawled on the small piece of paper that Wade had casually tossed her way. She let out a weary sigh, rolled her eyes in exasperation, and then turned her attention toward Wade, contorting her face into the most comically ugly expression she could muster.

In a hushed tone, she responded with a curt, "No." Matt, seated beside Wade, simply chuckled, observing the routine bickering that had become a normal part of their interactions.

Two days ago, Matt and Wade had fervently shared details about their ambitious musical thesis project, one they were wholeheartedly dedicating their efforts.

As Jinny listened intently to their enthusiasm and the thought of choosing a thesis topic herself began to take shape in her mind, she couldn't help but wonder when her journey into the realm of academic exploration would commence.

There was indeed a generous amount of time, approximately six months, at her disposal, yet an undeniable sense of impatience was gnawing at her, urging her to immerse herself in the world of research and discovery, particularly concerning the history of Amarias.

Jinny had already begun the process of selecting a suitable and dependable topic for her impending thesis.

And perhaps, it seemed, her silent appeals had not gone unnoticed, for the dean, as if having tuned into her thoughts, entered the classroom with a genial smile. The students collectively acknowledged his presence, and the dean, in a poised manner, permitted everyone to take their seats. He had come with a significant announcement in tow.

"Students, especially those pursuing the arts," the dean's voice resonated through the room, capturing the eager attention of all present, "the moment has arrived for you all to embark on your thesis projects."

With those words, Jinny's face lit up with an elated smile, and she turned to share her excitement with her companions, Wade and Matt, who were equally thrilled on her behalf.

"Thus, I kindly request all art majors to assemble in the main hall after the conclusion of today's classes," the dean continued, his gaze briefly meeting Jinny's, interpreting her impish grin as a positive response, before he took his leave. Jinny's hands trembled with excitement as she clasped them together, eagerly anticipating the end of her classes and the commencement of her journey into the world of academic exploration.

After the classes had concluded, students gathered in the main hall. It was a diverse assembly, comprising individuals from various departments, including history, geography, economics, and others. On the stage, the esteemed teachers and the dean stood, ready to address the student body.

Mars, stood next to the dean. He assumed a posture of utmost attentiveness, with his hands neatly clasped in front of him, resembling an obedient teacher keenly listening to the dean's opening remarks and guidance. Not once did he divert his gaze towards the area where Jinny was standing, isolated and alone in the crowd.

Meanwhile, Matt and Wade made their way to a separate group meeting with their respective teachers, who were assisting them with their thesis projects. Jinny, surprisingly, didn't feel the usual sense of desolation without her friends by her side.

This newfound lack of loneliness could be attributed to the excitement coursing through her mind. She fervently wished for the dean to wrap up his speech and guidelines swiftly, eager to embark on the next phase of her academic journey.

"Alright, students," the dean began, addressing the eager crowd, "I presume you've arranged yourselves according to your respective departments." In a perfectly synchronized chorus, the students erupted with enthusiasm, shouting, "Yes, sir!" Their excitement was palpable, and their anticipation hung in the air.

"Excellent," the dean acknowledged their response with a nod and a smile. "In that case, let's proceed." With a graceful sweep of his hand, he signaled for the students to step forward one by one. Each student was tasked with drawing a chit containing the name of their assigned teacher for the upcoming semester. The dean, in a concerted effort to eliminate bias and ensure the equitable distribution of students, opted for a chit-drawing process. However, the pursuit of fairness may not have been entirely realized, as there seemed to be something amiss behind the scenes.

As the moments passed and the students took their turns, there was a palpable sense of anticipation in the room. Jinny, in particular, was finding it increasingly difficult to contain her impatience. Her nervous energy manifested in the form of an involuntary lip bite, a testament to the excitement and uncertainty that lay ahead.

Finally, it was Jinny's turn, and a wide, joyful smile adorned her face. She carefully pulled the strap of her backpack over her shoulder and began her deliberate stride toward the stage, where she would randomly select a chit that would determine her academic fate. An undeniable uneasiness settled deep within her stomach, especially when her gaze met Mars's.

As their eyes locked, a peculiar and enigmatic expression graced Mars's face. It was neither the warm, welcoming smile he had worn on the day of his arrival nor was it the stern, disapproving look he occasionally sported. Instead, he appeared remarkably composed, almost detached.

Fortunately, the rest of the students from different departments, who had already been assigned their thesis supervisors, had vacated the premises, leaving only those from the history and economics departments in the main hall. Amid this dwindling audience, nobody, absolutely nobody, seemed to pay any heed to Jinny's hesitant steps, which gradually slowed down as she stood on the stage.

A new bowl, filled with fresh chits of varying colors, was brought forward into the room. She happened to be the very first person to reach into the bowl, a representative from the history department. As her gaze fell upon the bowl's contents, she noticed five distinct shades - Red, White, Green, Purple, and Yellow.

Jinny took a moment to contemplate her choice, her fingers hovering over the array of colorful chits. After a brief pause, she decided on the purple one, grasping it with a mixture of firmness and delicacy to avoid leaving any creases. Her eyes then shifted towards the dean and the assembled teachers, stealing a moment to assess their reactions.

With deliberate care, she began to unfold the chit. Her actions betrayed a certain hesitance, as though she harbored a latent fear of the contents within.

"Miss Nada," she whispered, her lips curving into a smile. "It's Miss Nada."

Yet, her smile quickly faded, giving way to a look of concern. Her gaze darted towards Mars, who bore a smile of his own. It was as if the entire world around Jinny had blurred, leaving only Mars in focus, his smile seemingly edged with amusement or perhaps even mockery. The reason for his amusement was evident - Miss Nada was unwell, and that meant only one thing.

"Very well, but since Miss Nada is sick, Mr. Mars will be your supervisor," the dean spoke with a soft, empathetic tone. Jinny couldn't help but sense that something was amiss; it resonated deep within her. The dean's words struck her like a sudden blow.

"Jinny," she was jolted from her reverie as the dean called out to her, concern etched on his face. "You may go back to your place now," he said politely. Jinny acknowledged with a slight nod, then descended the stage, returning to her original spot in the midst of the gathered crowd.

The dean had indeed followed through with his promise, entrusting Jinny's supervision to Mr. Mars. Jinny, however, clutched the small piece of purple paper tightly in her hand, her grip causing it to fold and crease.

"Why does it have to be him?" she pondered, her mind swirling with doubt and uncertainty. Yet, deep within her heart, she understood that there was simply no other recourse. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, her eyes tracing the patterns on the tiles as she walked, so absorbed in her thoughts that she failed to notice the other girls around her.

Some of them passed her excited smiles, perhaps aware of the internal struggle she was wrestling with, while others wore expressions of jealousy, their eyes filled with envy. A few, however, remained unbothered, focused on their own concerns and oblivious to her inner turmoil.

In these past two weeks, she had made every effort to avoid Mars's presence, but all her attempts had been in vain. Now, fate had thrown them together once more, with him as her supervisor. Despite her lack of willingness, she knew she had no choice but to cooperate with him.

"Hey Jinny, bugs, what's wrong?" Wade inquired; concern etched across his face. For a while now, Jinny had been transfixed, her gaze locked on the water bottle that sat before her on the table. The internal turmoil she wrestled with defied easy description.

If she were to articulate the true nature of her distress, she feared that others might dismiss it as mere overthinking or overreacting. But the maelstrom of emotions swirling within Jinny's mind was something she couldn't simply brush aside.

Wade and Jinny had shared a close bond since childhood, their friendship enduring the tests of time.

Yet, even with this history, she couldn't help but harbor doubts about whether he would truly grasp the depth of her feelings and concerns. The complexity of her inner world was a daunting hurdle to convey to anyone, even her closest friend.

How could she possibly convey to others the profound aversion she felt whenever she was in the proximity of the guest teacher known as Mars? It was a visceral reaction that always seemed to churn her stomach with a single, overpowering emotion: pure, unadulterated hatred. What made matters even more confounding was that not even Jinny herself could decipher the underlying reason behind this intense antipathy.

Despite these puzzling sentiments lingering in the recesses of her mind, Jinny managed to put on a façade. She casually shook her head and offered a warm smile to the trio of boys seated around her.

"Oh, by the way," Matt interjected, a mischievous glint in his eye, "weren't you supposed to find out who your thesis supervisor is?"

Jinny hesitated, not eager to disclose the name that caused her such turmoil. Wade and Summer's expectant gazes bore into her, awaiting her response.

"Mars," she finally whispered, almost reluctantly.

No words were needed to convey the gravity of her feelings; Matt and Wade saw the weariness and pallor on her face, deciding that teasing her was ill-advised at this moment.

Perplexed by the sudden shift in everyone's demeanor, Summer piped up, "Who is this Mars, anyway?"

Jinny's response was curt, a shiver creeping down her spine as she uttered, "A nightmare, someone I wouldn't even wish to lay eyes upon."

"Seriously, how many guys are on your hating list?" Summer remarked, causing Jinny to glance at him in utter surprise. "I'm deducing this based on experience," Summer added, drawing from the past year during which Jinny had consistently avoided him.

"I don't hate you, Summer," Jinny replied, her tone laced with nonchalance as she reclined in her chair. They found themselves once more in the familiar setting of 'The Midnight Rush' cafe, having just completed a grueling gym session. "I simply steered clear of you because you bore an uncanny resemblance to someone I once knew."

Summer pondered her response for a moment before offering his perspective, "Maybe it's your intuition, Jinny. Perhaps you have a gut feeling about Mars. Give him a chance; you might be pleasantly surprised."

Matt, who had been listening on their conversation, chimed in, "Exactly what we were saying a week ago. Come on, Jinny, it's our final semester." Jinny just nodded in response and mouthed a little ok. Although forgetting about everything, they once again engaged in conversation keeping the topic of Mars out. The same hostess attended them, sharing few conversations with them.

Although explaining her situation was a bit challenging, Jinny felt grateful to have her two best friends and Summer by her side. They had spent what felt like a few hours in the café before getting busier with their thesis work, so they decided to make the most of their time together.

"We should head home now," Jinny said, her face displaying signs of exhaustion.

"Yeah, you're right. It's almost 7, and we've been wandering around this park for quite a while," added Matt. After their brief gathering at the café, all four of them went to the park to take a break.

It was already growing dark and chilly, and they were all dressed in gym clothes and hoodies. They retrieved their bikes, and Summer extended his hand to offer Jinny the spare helmet. But before she could take it, Wade spoke up.

"Summer, I'll take Jinny home today." This sudden declaration surprised them all, but when they looked at Wade's serious expression and clenched jaw, they knew he had something important to discuss. Jinny gave a nod to Summer and hopped onto Wade's bike.

"Hey, at least take the helmet," Summer insisted, handing over the helmet, which both Jinny and Wade were grateful for. They all set off, taking different paths as their journeys diverged.

Matt had split from the group earlier, as his path led in a different direction. Summer and Jinny were going the same way, as they both lived in the same neighborhood. Summer noticed how comfortable Jinny seemed with Wade, which made sense since they had been friends since childhood.

The ride back home was quiet. Jinny leaned her chin on Wade's shoulder, and Wade drove silently to Jinny's house. Wade's seriousness was unusual for him, but there were times when he became serious. Jinny understood it was best not to interrupt him at those moments because a quiet Wade could be quite intimidating.

"Hey, Wade, you're going to be late. Your home is on the other side," Jinny exclaimed.

Wade replied with a grin, "A coffee and some snacks could work." He parked his bike on Jinny's porch, and Jinny nodded in agreement. Together, they headed inside Jinny's house.

As they entered, Jake noticed the helmet in Jinny's hand and inquired, "Whose helmet is that?"

Jinny sighed, "Oh no, I forgot to give the helmet back to Summer."

Wade reassured her, "It's okay, you can give it to him another day." He then greeted Jake, saying, "Hi Jake, how's your packing and everything going?"

"It's going great. I'm pretty excited."

Wade nodded, "Good man."

"You can wait in my room while I prepare coffee for both of us." Jinny offered.

Wade hesitated but Jake insisted, pushing them towards the stairs, "It's okay, I'll do it. Anyways, my coffee tastes better than yours."

"Hey."

Wade surveyed the room, taking in its cluttered appearance. He couldn't help but chuckle, recognizing that some things never change, even as one becomes a full-grown adult. Jinny's room was surprisingly spacious, with a dresser on the left as you entered, complete with a large mirror.

In the center, there was a bed, to be precise, a princess bed adorned with purple covers and sheets—purple, her favorite color, of course. Her clothes were strewn near the window sill, the type where people could comfortably sit and chat.

However, what really caught Wade's attention was the purple book resting on her desk. He spoke softly to himself as he read the title, "Stories from the North." While Jinny had disappeared into her attached washroom to change into more comfortable attire.

"I borrowed this book from the library about two weeks ago," Jinny remarked, noticing Wade's gaze fixed on the book.

"Nice," he responded with a slight smile.

"I could lend you Jake's pajamas. Those gym clothes might irritate your skin," Jinny suggested without waiting for his reply. She headed outside to ask Jake if he could lend Wade one of his night suits, and fortunately, Jake agreed.

"This actually suits you," Jinny said, trying to suppress her laughter while observing Wade in the night suit adorned with little bears. "Now I understand why he never wore it," she chuckled. It was the same night suit she had given her brother Jake as a gift, but he never wore it, claiming it was too cute for his tough image. Wade tossed a towel at Jinny and joined in her laughter.

They both settled comfortably on the window sill, with Jinny holding a fox plushie tightly. She pouted, knowing well that Wade had prepared a lecture that was five pages long.

"Alright, so, are you going to start?" Jinny huffed out a breath, her gaze fixed on the window, where dark clouds billowed across the sky. It had been a while since Wade and Jinny had found a moment to discuss the secrets that had been gnawing at her.

Wade quickly sent a text to his mother, letting her know he'd be sleeping over at Jinny's place. Unconsciously, Jinny's fingers roamed across her shoulders, tracing the scars beneath the fabric of her button-up shirt.

"Does it hurt?" Wade asked, his eyes filled with concern.

"No, not anymore," Jinny replied with a faint chuckle. "It's become a sort of habit." She paused, her gaze returning to the dark sky outside. "But I can't shake this feeling of unease."

"Is it because of Mars?" Wade inquired, searching her eyes for answers.

Jinny nodded slowly. "Yes, it's... I don't know, Wade. I was doing just fine, living my life like any other college student. Then, out of nowhere, Mars appears, and I can't ignore the sense of familiarity and the knot in my stomach. It's like my inner self is screaming at me to stay away from him. I can't even explain why I react this way, and it's starting to take a toll on me."

Jinny rested her head on her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, as if seeking comfort from the turmoil within.

"Jinny, I hate to break it to you, but all these books with unfinished histories," Wade began, gently gesturing toward the bookshelf beside her study table, which was brimming with volumes chronicling the histories of Amarias, and even delving into the outer worlds. "They're messing with your mind. We all know how much you cherish these tales, but you've let them seep so deeply into your consciousness that you sometimes believe you're a character within them."

Jinny cast her gaze downward, her lips forming a pout. Wade's words carried a painful truth she couldn't deny. "Don't you remember that incident when you nearly rushed into a fire, convinced that someone named Mauve needed your help?" Wade continued; his tone laced with genuine concern. "Jinny, you're allowing these stories to cloud your thoughts."

Leaning in, Wade placed his hands on Jinny's shoulders, gently turning her to face him. "Listen, Jinny, I couldn't care less about any supposed resemblance to history or any notion of you being some kind of incarnate being. To me, you're simply you—my Jinny, my dearest friend, and so much more. Even if you were connected to some historical figure, which I find hard to believe, we're living in the 21st century. There's no time machine to take us back into the past. All you can do is search for answers and mourn over what's lost. My concern is genuine, Jinny. You're just a student, and Mars, well, he's just another PhD holder, a teacher. So, either you keep it that way, or you risk ending up in an asylum."

With heartfelt words and a touch of urgency, Wade tried to convey the depth of his worry for Jinny, hoping to pull her back from the brink of her historical obsessions and into the present.

Wade wore his fear like an open book, and Jinny, perceptive as ever, could discern it clearly in the depths of his eyes. His concern for her ran deep, a steadfast presence in her life, standing by her side through every low moment.

Wade's playful banter and teasing were not merely for amusement; they served as a shield against the relentless storm of troubling thoughts that often besieged her.

Every word that Wade uttered was carefully chosen, each sentence crafted with precision. It didn't matter how firmly the myths of Amarias were rooted in history; in his eyes, they were merely lessons of the past.

Wade believed that one could either glean wisdom from history and progress or get lost in the labyrinthine depths of the past, losing touch with reality. Jinny, however, refused to let the weight of historical theories tarnish the present she held dear, surrounded by people she deeply cherished.

With a sense of patience that only someone who genuinely cared could possess, Wade awaited Jinny's response. A subtle nod from her signaled her agreement, but this time, it was accompanied by a radiant smile, despite the tears that had already begun their descent down her cheeks.

Tears streamed down Jinny's cheeks, an unusual sight for someone known to bring joy to anyone's life. Her unexpected display of emotion was met with a lighthearted comment from Wade, whose teasing nature never seemed to wane. He playfully remarked, "You're crying, the one who can make anyone is crying."

Jinny couldn't help but snort in response, attempting to conceal her laughter. Wade's quip had caught her off guard, breaking through her emotional facade.

Just as the atmosphere seemed to lighten with Wade's banter, a boisterous voice shattered the moment. It was Jake, his voice carrying through the door.

"Coffee is ready! Can I come in, or should I wait for you two to finish your funny business?" Jake's unexpected intrusion made both Jinny and Wade cringe instinctively. In a flash, he entered the room, bringing his lively presence with him, and it was as if the entire scene had been rewritten by his arrival.

"Jake," Wade began, a hint of mock incredulity in his voice, "I thought you were my brother. How can you say that? I have better choices." His attempt at humor earned him a playful smack on the back.

Jinny, with a deadpan expression, chimed in, "And who says I could ever choose you?"

"Okay, let's go," Jake proposed with a warm smile. "We're having a sleepover, just like the old times when we were kids. Let's head downstairs."

The trio gathered in the living room, their laughter echoing as they settled in to play random board games and exchange teasing banter. Jake, looking around, couldn't help but ask, "Why didn't Matt come this time?"

"Yeah, I miss him too," Jinny pouted. "But it's too late now."

Wade added with a mischievous grin, "Oh, he's going to be really, really mad at us," leaving everyone to ponder the same.

As the evening wore on, they engaged in more conversation and watched random movies on the television. Eventually, tiredness crept in, and they ended up sleeping wherever they found themselves. Jinny curled up on the couch, one leg hanging freely, while Jake and Wade sprawled on the floor, assuming the most awkward sleeping positions they could muster.

In the two weeks that had passed, so much had transpired, yet there still remained five months and a week until the semester would conclude. Jinny, however, slept peacefully this time, holding Wade's words close to her heart. She was determined not to let anything stand in the way of her dreams. As she drifted off to sleep, a newfound hope filled her, believing that the future held a fresh start and happiness.

Chapter 7

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homeofjonicles · 2 years

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The Jonicles - Entry 13

Note: This is the thirteenth entry of The Jonicles, hence why the date does not match when this is being posted. This was written back in June of this year before I started this blog, and there will be errors or developments in how this series was being written. Please enjoy (or don't enjoy) the thirteenth entry of The Jonicles!

It is currently the 17th of June, 2022 at 8:20 pm on a Friday. It's almost Garfield's birthday as well, and I personally can't wait! Well, maybe I could, seeing as how it's the weekend, hah... But regardless! Today is a special day, as today is day #30 of my Jon Arbuckle hyperfixation!

Wow, it's already been 30 days... That's a whole month's worth of Jon Arbuckle simpery for one man to take. I have been fixated on this silly man from a silly comic about a silly cartoon cat in silly shenanigans for a whole month. It's not an insane number, but it's strange because it doesn't feel like it's been that long at all... It still feels like it's day #20, and maybe that's my fucked sense of time speaking, but damn...

Jon Arbuckle must be pretty special to me to have fixated on him for a whole month, eh? That's frightening, but also really speaks about how much Jon really means to me. It's only been 30 days and I've learned and seen so much. Let's think back for a moment, back to when my Jon fixation was fresh and new, and back when there were only a few entries, for old time's sake.

It was day #8 of my Jon fixation, the day Entry 3 had been written. In that entry, I went on about how much Jon means to me as a character, how I deeply resonate with him, relate to him, and cherish him. Gosh, so early into the fixation and I'm already up at the asscrack of the morning going on about how I have such a deep and complex connection to a cartoon character (that's a lotta c's). I even got a little personal at the end... Oh, how it has evolved since then... Me fresh on day #1 would have never known, or maybe he would've, who knows...

Now... I don't know how much my sanity has depleted since day #1 of this strange infatuation with Jon, nor do I have a clear grasp on whether I really care or not. However, there is one thing I do know, and that is that my emotional bond and connection with Jonathan Q. Arbuckle has expanded, enlarged, deepened, complex-ified-ered and any other adjective you could use to describe it. And it's not only about relatability anymore. It's more than that.

I'm just going to be blunt; in many ways and aspects, I am Jon Arbuckle. I said this in Entry 3, but since then, the literal meaning of that statement has certainly become clearer as time has gone on. I may sound insane, I may sound mad, but I swear, when I look in the mirror in the morning, when I glance at my hair, my eyes, reflect on my own personality and experiences, I not only see myself - I see Jon. I literally think of Jon in my place. I remind myself of him, and maybe that's because I am him, in a way. I'm not literally Jon, but when I look at my hair, and when I weigh my own traits with his, most of them stick and emulate one another, like they feed off of each other. I act like him, I share many general traits with him like owning an orange cat, drawings cartoons, being a goofball... We are similar, we are almost the same. Heck, we sometimes may even speak similarly to each other, saying stuff like "Zango!" and complaining and tangenting every so often. We are different, but the same, y'know? Maybe I lost you on that one, but hopefully the rest of it makes at least some sense...

I relate so much to Jon. Every little detail, every little struggle (except for the ones regarding dating...), every little quirk of his, that's me, bro. I feel like if I were transported to the world of comics and cartoons, I'd just be Jon. That's who I'd be! He's so easy to just channel my emotions through because we're pretty darn similar, even if I also share a lot of traits with Garfield too. I can rationalise a lot of his descisions because they are ones I'd probably make if I had his confidence. He's just... He's me. He's me fr.

Jon is so god damn special to me, man. Maybe, if this fixation eventually ends, I'll get over all this, but I probably wont, because through all the struggles that come with life, and through all the struggles I deal with mentally, Jon will be there. He'll be there on the ride with me, in my head, in my heart and sketched on my papers. He's such a mundane character to many, but to me, he's like a best friend. He's someone I can talk to when I'm feeling like shit and he just gets it. He's someone I can not only laugh at, but laugh with as well. He's someone I can heavily relate to when we look in the mirror and we just can't stand to be around ourselves. Jon's existensial struggles are my existensial struggles. Jon's thoughts of loneliness are my thoughts of loneliness. Jon's worries, his shower-thought like thoughts, his inner reclusiveness, his moments of panic, depression, happiness, nothingness, awkwardness, I have all those too. And it's so special to me because never in my life have I met someone, even someone fictional, that I can so heavily relate to and resonate with and just see so much of myself in. And maybe that's just the way Jon is written to be. He's relatable in one way or another to everyone. But to me, it's more than that because we're so equal to each other in many ways. We are not one, but it really feels like that sometimes, and this hyperfixation has just lead to me learning that knowledge.

Jon, it goes without saying that, despite how many people may think you're mundane and even boring, you are one of the most interesting, relatable, loveable and fun characters I have ever met in fiction, and that's impressive for a little guy living in a little three panel comic. You're a complex, deep and interesting person, and I connect with you on such a deep level, it's almost crazy, really. And this was all in the timeframe of 30 days... I'm getting ahead of myself, the point is, you are special. You are meaningful to me. And when one day, when the papers stop printing, when the humour dries out and when the panels start to close in and it feels like all hope is lost, you'll still have me metaphorically by your side. And even if I'm not there, even if one day I'm gone, your legacy will be passed down for so many generations and I swear, it will not be for naught. It will not be in vain. You, Jon, are a truly special somebody that not even the most rich of words could describe all of my feelings for you. You are important to me, maybe even just as important as my own loved ones and friends are to me in real life. And since I'm beginning to run out of words, with that said, I once again welcome you with open arms into my heart and my chaotic brain, and also into my lifestyle. Please, Jon, enjoy your stay. I hope that while we're all still here and kicking, you have the best damn stay anyone could ever ask for, and that the other characters and skrunkies running around in my brain make your stay a welcome one. Have a good one, Jon. Happy day #30.

Last edited at 9:52 pm. Man I love Jon...

If my previous entries haven't said it enough somehow, I genuinely adore this silly fictional man. He's special to me, and he means a lot. It means a lot that I'm able to relate to a character so strongly as Jon Arbuckle. This entry is quite personal, but I feel that it isn't too personal that I'm not able to post it just yet. And plus, it's a special milestone in my Jon simpery, as it was the day I had been hyperfixated on him for a whole month (well, technically that would be 31 days, but generally, 30 days is a month). And just for some perspective, at the time of writing this author's note, it's day #65, so it's been a while.

Also, the reason there's so many little "messages" to Jon at the end of these entries is because he really does feel like a real person to me, so it feels a little more personal when writing them, and Jon is such a rounded character that I feel like I'm "talking to him" (not literally, mind you, but enough to make the endings more heartfelt. i don't actually believe jon is a real person but it'd be cool if he was).

Cheers,

Your Local Jonnoissuer

Posted on the 22nd of July, 2022 at 8:30 pm.

#jonicles 13 #love you jon <3 #his birthday's coming up soon!#so is my mum's! it's on the 24th!#kinda wish i was born around june to august because that's when winter is here in australia #it really is a christmas in july here kind of #imagine living in the southern hemisphere pffft couldnt be me #imagine having summer in christmas lmao.....#where was i? oh yeah #Jon!!!

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jangofctts · 3 years

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Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”

You smile. “Lovely.”

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.

-=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement.

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes.

Fuck yeah.

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.

Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”

There we go.

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.

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#well yall im #bucket fucker supreme right here I guess #enJOY #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #boba fett x reader x din djarin #din djarin x reader x boba fett #star wars fanfiction #my writing

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 320: Deku vs. Class 1-A

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Kacchan was all “fuck Deku and fuck his stupid goodbye letters, I need to speak to somebody in charge.” Endeavor was all “hello, I am Somebody In Charge.” Kacchan was all “listen up asshole, you need to let us go out and collect our wayward nerd because you stupidly left him alone with All Might and that’s a fast track to disaster right there.” Endeavor was all, “[self-incriminating silence].” Rat Principal was all, “okay sure, have fun kids.” Back in the present, class 1-A was all “hi Deku” and Deku was all “I’M FINE!!!!!” and Kacchan was all “THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU’D SAY YOU DUMB FUCKING NERD” and so the kids all got ready to fight, because OF COURSE they’re gonna fight. Sorry guys, but yeah it’s happening.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan is all “what’s up Deku you look like a possessed Rorschach test, so anyway how are the new quirks coming along.” Deku is all “they’re coming along like THIS” and uses Smokescreen to try and get away. Kacchan is all “PHASE ONE COMMENCE”, and Kouda, Sero, Jirou, and Ojiro leap into the fray to shower Deku with heaps of love and violence, because this is a shounen manga and kicking someone’s ass while simultaneously proclaiming your undying admiration for them is just how it’s done in these parts. The KoudaSeroOJirou squad then passes the baton to Satou, Momo, Tokoyami, Kaminari, and Shouji, who are all “fuck this mask” and do a bunch of stuff to tear Deku’s mask off because they’re the real heroes. Shouto is all “LOOK AT THE LITTLE CRYBABY, THAT’S RIGHT, GO AHEAD AND FUCKING CRY and by the way let us share your burden please,” and once again I swear this is all very deeply moving and touching within the actual context. The chapter ends with Tsuyu being all “look at me. I’m the cliffhanger now,” and damn.

lol what

I don’t think anyone was expecting that. I mean, not that I’ve got anything against Tsuyu or anything. anyways it’s a very nice cover and I love the colors and I hope this means Tsuyu’s gonna do something badass

also, “Deku vs Class A” -- pretty much the expected title, but it’s still got me hyped nonetheless fuck yeah let’s go

IIDA ANGST

Iida Tenya really said “fuck the uniform code, we’re leaving the helmet at home today.” sorry kids, prim and proper C-3PO Comic Relief Iida has left the building. can I interest you in some Serious Iida

meanwhile Kacchan is all “sup Deku, I heard you got a few more quirks, and might I just add that you look like the Snyder Cut of Detective Pikachu”

“you look like a tarred and feathered squid” okay easy there Kacchan. I mean it’s all true of course, but still

“thank you all for coming” OH EXCUSE ME SON, WERE YOU PLANNING ON GOING SOMEWHERE. LET’S JUST SEE HOW THAT PLAYS OUT

yep and there’s Smokescreen, right on cue

okay Horikoshi, I leave it in your hands. hopefully you can come up with some more interesting combos than my dumbass predictions lol

LOL THIS ISN’T A COMBO AT ALL

“explosions solve everything” -- Horikoshi Kouhei, 2021. something something shockwave, something something handwave ta-da no more smoke. lol okay then

oh, ouch

he would know, wouldn’t he. nice application of one of your many hard-earned life lessons, Kacchan

by the way you guys, just as an experiment, I’m going to try to anticipate some of the discourse this week in the hopes of preemptively addressing it and thus saving myself some time later on lol. so here’s our first test run!

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “oh my god what a fucking hypocrite can you believe this fucking guy”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: it’s precisely because Kacchan has been in this exact situation himself that he’s able to recognize his past self in Deku now and call him out on it. just because it took him sixteen years to get it through his head that he can’t accomplish every single thing completely by himself doesn’t mean Deku has to go down that same path. so yeah, maybe it is a bit hypocritical, but if you insist that the only people qualified to call out stupid shit are people who have never done a single stupid thing in their own lives, then what you’re basically saying is that absolutely no one on earth is qualified lol. so yeah, I’d have to disagree

and one last unrelated note, I’m willing to bet the whole “you didn’t even say a word before you ran off” thing is possibly the first thing Kacchan’s said in this whole encounter that actually does stem from genuine hurt rather than his tough-love-harsh-truths strategy. I’M TAKING NOTES HERE HORIKOSHI. at this rate it’ll take twice as many chapters as DvK2 for them to hash out all the stuff between them, geez

anyway so I gotta say, so far Deku vs. Class A is looking an awful lot like a DvK3 wearing a hat, trenchcoat, and sunglasses lol

OH SHIT I TAKE IT BACK??

FUCK YEAH, YOU GO KOUDA. and I guess he ditched his mask as well! excellent

so far the strategy here seems to be “Kacchan says all the mean tough love shit while the rest of 1-A balances it out with warmth and kindness”, which actually works pretty well imo. Deku is one of those people that doesn’t usually need a Kacchan Translator anyway, but just in case, this is very efficient

mm but of course Deku is slingshotting himself away with Blackwhip. all right then, who’s up next!

FUCK YEAH

okay but seriously you guys, what is going on with Sero’s face in these last couple of chapters though, it’s really starting to unnerve me. is he trying to emulate Kacchan’s whole asymmetrical facial expressions thing?

in fact let me just quickly hit pause here because,

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “SERO IS TOGA??!”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: no

oh snap looks like Jirou’s getting in on the action too!

poor Jirou probably spent days racking her brain trying to think of something she could bond with Deku over. is Horikoshi doing these in reverse order of the kids who have had the most interaction with him? that would explain why poor Kouda didn’t get a flashback lol

omg. well that answers that

so by my count, Satou and Hagakure are the only ones remaining in this first tier of kids who Still Appreciate Midoriya even though they’ve barely ever spoken two words to him in their lives lol. so they’ll probably be next, and then we’ll get to the next tier of kids who are pretty good friends with him but not quite besties. and then we’ll move on to the IidaRokiRaka trio, and then lastly, to the boy who is in a tier all his own

BUT FIRST, A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR

and by “sponsor” I mean the Dekuangst. just in case that wasn’t clear. indeed, many thanks to the Dekuangst for making this all possible

(ETA: okay so this whole “take me away” line seemed pretty weird to me, and sure enough it’s yet another one of those cases where only the verb is specified, and the object is left to the reader’s interpretation. so even though the translation says “take me away”, I’m pretty sure that what Deku’s actually saying is “take you away” -- as in, his loved ones will be taken away by AFO.

and that is literally the way he phrases it, though -- the verb used is “奪う” (ubau), meaning “to snatch away; to dispossess; to steal.” which, god, that hurts my whole goddamn heart though, because for him to say it like that?? not “AFO will kill you”, but “AFO will take you away from me.” he can’t have nice things anymore because of AFO. he can’t be around the people he loves because AFO will hurt them. he can’t have happiness because AFO will take it away from him. anyway so where the fuck is AFO right now, motherfucker I just want to talk.)

by the way can Ojiro just extend his tail to whatever fucking length he wants or what because it’s like twelve feet long in this panel lol

WOOO FUCK YEAH TOKOYAMI

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!! BUT WHERE’S YOUR FLASHBACK? YOU’VE HAD A BUNCH OF INTERACTIONS WITH HIM, THAT’S NOT FAIR

okay so now Satou’s stepping in which is back to my anticipated order, so maybe Toko will finish his little moment afterward

dskfjfkk

“REMEMBER THAT TIME DEKU BORROWED SATOU’S FOOD COLORING” Horikoshi says, sweating. “AND REMEMBER THAT TIME HE, UM, SMILED IN HAGAKURE’S GENERAL DIRECTION”

actually I am curious about what Hagakure’s part will be because, you know, the whole traitor thing lol

(ETA: funny how we just skipped right over it huh. can we get a traitor reveal countdown started here? definitely getting close to that time.)

whoa lol wtf

MOMO??? THIS HAS MOMO WRITTEN ALL OVER IT DAMMIT

-- SWEET MOTHER OF FUCK

“SORRY MIDORIYA-SAN, I LEFT MY FUCKING CHILL AT HOME IN THE LOCKER NEXT TO IIDA’S HELMET” holy shit lmao

and here I thought she’d get a flashback to her time on the Baku Rescue Squad or something. but nope, no flashbacks from Momo, only terrifying sci-fi torture devices

poor Dark Shadow is such a trooper omg

“why am I the only one who has to make prolonged contact with his smelly disgusting self” taking one for the team there DS

FUCK YEAH KAMINARI NO JUTSU

THE PRICKLY BASTARD WHISPERER STRIKES AGAIN!! don’t suppose you brought any clean clothes you could sneakily force him into huh Kami

okay here we go, so now Shouji and Tokoyami are joining forces

um excuse me this is fucking awesome

wonder how he’ll break free? don’t think he’ll reveal Fa Jin until the end of the chapter, so maybe Air Force or something? idk

TOKO GETS AN EXTENDED MOMENT BECAUSE HE IS A TIER TWO PATREON REWARD LEVEL FRIEND YAY

WHY IS MOMO MAKING THIS FACE LOL YOUR THING WAS WAY WORSE

and Shouji just casually hitting him with what is easily the best comment from anyone yet. too bad Deku’s just gonna ignore it. you deserve better Shouji

KAMINARI OMFG

it only just occurred to me that Kami is currently trapped inside Dark Shadow right along with him lmao omg. realest one in the entirety of BnHA, right here. we will never forget your sacrifice

aaaaaaand Deku’s yeeting himself

do you really hate the thought of taking a bath that much my dude

oh shit the mask!!

-- oh shit the feels

o(TヘTo)

fuck. and I mean, we knew he was crying, that was a done deal. but still, to see him in this much pain is just...

and the acknowledgement that he knows they’re worried about him, but that it doesn’t change his mind one bit. this, right here, is why they have to be a bit harsh with him, you guys. because they’re up against the full, unbridled stubbornness of Midoriya fucking Izuku, and if they don’t match that stubbornness with an equal stubbornness of their own, they basically don’t stand a chance

(ETA: quick note that there is apparently another mistranslation here -- rather than saying that his friends are oblivious to the danger, what Deku is actually saying is that none of his friends have activated his Danger Sense once throughout this entire fight. which I had been wondering about, and it turns out Horikoshi actually confirmed it. so basically none of the kids bears any ill intent toward him, and there’s literal proof right there.

incidentally, as @class1akids pointed out, this also casts an interesting light on this chapter in terms of who hasn’t fought Deku yet. not to play the Hagakure Traitor Music for the billionth time you guys, but I’M JUST SAYING lol.)

anyway, but the good news is that they all seem to understand that. and the even better news is that we have reached the tier 3 friends!!

“OR ELSE” lol, great to see Shouto wielding his friendship just as aggressively as Deku once did towards him. I do love a good role reversal

p.s., ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “why is Shouto being so cruel to Deku can’t he see how hard this is on him”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: this is a callback to the classic “even heroes cry when they have to” Shouto line from chapter 137. Shouto is clearly following Kacchan’s lead here and going for the more ruthless approach, knowing that the gentle approach isn’t getting through to him (if anything it’s only making him more stubborn as we saw on the previous page). basically it’s his way of pointing out that even heroes are still only human, and so is Deku last time he checked

ah okay, and there Tsuyu is at last

okay real talk, I get why Tsuyu is included in the tier 3 friends, because she was one of the first people to team up with Deku going all the way back to USJ. but that said, this probably would have had more impact if their most recent interaction hadn’t been like 150 chapters ago

but anyway though it’s still a good speech. maybe not quite a cliffhanger-level speech, but a good speech nonetheless. in a way though, I’m glad to see that Horikoshi seemingly didn’t give a fuck whether he ended this on an actual cliffhanger or not for once

and that “headed toward the climax” part has me excited too, ngl. because if we really are getting to the so-called climax this soon, that makes me even more certain that there is indeed a DvK3 in the forecast. so I presume that next week (or I guess two weeks from now) will be the tier 3s along with the remaining tier 2s like Kirishima and Aoyama

and then after that, well... [orange and green banners being hoisted] [sound of screeching airhorns and vuvuzelas in the distance] [sound of All Might approaching in his car which I didn’t notice until I looked back at this page a second time whoops] THE PROPHECY WILL NOT BE DENIED

#bnha 320 #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #asui tsuyu #tokoyami fumikage #kaminari denki #todoroki shouto #class 1-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 3 years

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I have two suggestions for the Gray Ghost AU.

1: Wes Weston is no longer under suspicion of being a Ghost. Now, he is under suspicion of being the Phantom Hunter. He is athletic, fits the build, is on record as saying he wants to fight Ghosts, and has access to the tech (just BS a connection to the GiW or Axiom). The difference this makes in his regular life is mostly null... except for the fact that Ghosts now keep targeting him for retribution attacks. Danny goes out of his way to obscure his identity from everyone, meaning Wes is seen as them catching Phantom Hunter off guard. I imagine him trying to pin it on Danny but because he so clearly disdains his parent's work, literally no one believes him.

2: The idea of Danny getting his hands on an Ectoplasm enhanced suit like the Technus upgrade Val got to her suit, most likely given by Maddie as a way to bond with Danny (and further prep him for a transformation into a Halfa). Except given his preexisting contamination (his mum is half Ghost) and Maddie messing with the suit, he ends up with the suit now fusing to him more thoroughly. After reading too many Iron Man comics, I picture something like his Bleeding Edge armour. It is basically stored mostly in his body, and he can augment it with extra technology. This would probably be a win scenario for Maddie because this puts Danny even further into Halfa territory. This also makes things more tragic with Val. Because not only has Maddie betrayed Danny to experiment on him, but because it means Val failed to stop this happening to someone she cares about. Also, this opens up a new opportunity for one of the Clones: one who is now a more pronounced cyborg made with a prototype of the suit Maddie gave to Danny, maybe he looks like the Terminator or something. For extra irony, he's the nicest one and likes gardening or something. I know this can be taken further, but I'm not able to focus on it more due to exhaustion.

Also, your idea is great, and thank you for sharing it with us and letting us all throw our suggestions at you. Thanks for all the good content.

no thank you! this stuff is always way more fun and interesting when it's collaborated! most of these ideas wouldn't exist without other people's suggestions, even the initial prompt! ✨

also @everystarstorm this will answer your ask too ~ y'all sharing a braincell today haha

1. omg yes YES yes this is perfect absolutely 100%

Wes just cannot catch a break in ANY universe (the concept of Walter Weston working for Vlad has been a Thing so we can keep that around here since Vlad works at Axion and that can be the connection, maybe Walter is just the paperwork guy or the company's legal attorney)

I also had a suggestion from @burns-art-account that Valerie gets her own version of a Wes, but like since the name Wes initially came from a joke about Sam's name being misread upside down, we could do the same with one of Val's friends, like Star could be Jets or Jeqs, or something like that

although I think this person would be less open and vocal about Valerie since her popularity would make it impossible to point a finger at without being laughed at by the whole school (I mean just look at Wes, his target is just some nerdy kid and he's still a laughingstock), so this character could be a little more subtle in trying to get evidence to out Val, it would make a pretty funny running gag if every time she got a chance to photograph Val transforming or capture some kind of evidence, something always gets in the way at the last moment, like a bird flying in front of the camera or something

2. I want to keep Danny getting the suit from Technus because I'd want this universe's version of that episode to still happen because it was a great episode between these two and it could still work with the switch around

but Maddie really would have to change course with her portal plan because this whole thing could actually make that more difficult for Maddie, all of her calculations weren't made with a highly ecto-contaminated person in mind, this would mean she would have to readjust the portal's design between Danny and the rest of her family, or actually just throw that plan away in favour of working with this new angle

she could realise that her kids HAVE picked up some traits from her because yeah a normal human shouldn't be able to do that to ghost tech

the idea that Maddie does add to his arsenal is good, once she figures out that any tech he uses gets absorbed into his suit she starts making more weaponry that's super compatible with him, possibly even making stuff that will purposely contaminate him further to bring him closer to being like a halfa (this would be a pretty huge step in Maddie's villain development because now she's resorted to experimenting on her own son, she's losing sight of why she's doing all this in the first place) it would be really cool to see Maddie gradually losing her maternal motherly nature to the cold calculating scientist

like her warmth used to feel at least somewhat genuine deep down but now it just feels like a part she's playing, slimy and sinister, she was always manipulative but she had a real genuine care for her family underneath, she thought she was doing the right thing, but that love and care is slipping away into just doing whatever it takes to get what she wants, to complete her experiment

also I was thinking about the cloning ep being set kinda earlier in this universe, so that would have happened pre-upgrade, but the idea of there being a cyborg clone made later is super cool, and then we could get a clone centric episode where the other clones try to convince this newer more dangerous clone to join their family, and yes him becoming the sweetest, nicest clone is *mwah* perfection

that ep could pave the way and maybe even foreshadow Maddie's eventual experimentations on Danny himself

and the repercussions on Val oooooof, she would feel so guilty, she would feel so much like she let him down and she couldn't save him from becoming something he never wanted to be and now it's getting to a point where it'll be too late for him to get back to normal

and since we've established in a previous post that Vlad knows about Danny, he could even play as Danny's one guiding light, warning him that if he keeps doing this he won't be able to turn back, and his interactions with Danny could give us some insight to what's going on in Danny's head, he's trying so hard to point Danny away from all this while his own mother is more subtly encouraging him and pushing him in the other direction, like a shoulder angel/shoulder devil kinda thing

these are some great ideas thank you for sharing! ❤️❤️

#asks #danny phantom #gray ghost au

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princesssarisa · 2 years

Text

Cinderella September-through-November: Rodgers and Hammerstein's "Cinderella" (1997 TV musical)

Now we reach the third televised version of Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella, which for children of the '90s and 2000s has the biggest cult following of them all. It premiered on ABC's Wonderful World of Disney in 1997, co-produced by Whitney Houston, and featuring an all-star and – in a choice both praised and mocked over the years – colorblind cast. This cast is headed by Houston herself as the Fairy Godmother and 18-year-old R&B sensation Brandy in the role of Cinderella.

All of the classic songs from the original 1957 musical are retained here, although "The Prince is Giving a Ball" and "The Royal Dressing Room Scene" are combined into one number, as a showcase for Jason Alexander in the new comic role of the long-suffering royal steward Lionel. But just as the 1965 remake added one new song, this version adds three other songs from Richard Rodgers' catalogue. "The Sweetest Sounds" from No Strings becomes a distant duet for Cinderella and Prince Christopher (Filipino-American newcomer Paolo Montalbán), expressing their dreams of love. "Falling In Love With Love" from Rodgers and Hart's The Boys from Syracuse is sung by the Stepmother (Bernadette Peters), bringing some new depth to her role by portraying her as a former romantic left bitter and jaded by her two husbands' deaths. Last but not least, "There's Music In You" from the film Main Street to Broadway becomes the grand musical finale, sung by the Fairy Godmother watching over Cinderella's wedding.

The musical also gets a new script once again, this time by Robert L. Freedman, who combines the comedy of Oscar Hammerstein's original 1957 teleplay with the more earnest tone of Joseph Schrank's 1965 teleplay to create just the right balance of humor and heart. As in the 1965 version, Cinderella and Prince Christopher first meet before the ball; this time in the town square, where the Prince wanders disguised as a commoner to escape from his stifling royal duties, and where in their brief conversation they bond over their shared longing for freedom. The stepsisters have new character tics too: brassy Minerva (Natalie Deselle) feels itchy whenever she's nervous, while ditzy Calliope (Veanne Cox) can't help snorting when she laughs. And in keeping with '90s feminism. yet without being heavy-handed about it, this version emphatically brings back the 1957 Cinderella's character arc of learning to take charge of her own future rather than just dreaming of a better life. At first she feels duty-bound to stay with her stepfamily by a promise she made to her late father, but her Fairy Godmother and her blossoming romance with the Prince teach her that she deserves better and give her the courage to escape.

With its high-budget Disney gloss, this is definitely the most visually sparkling of the three Rodgers and Hammerstein Cinderella telecasts. The folksy, atmospheric sets and the colorful 19th century-inspired costumes brim with fairy tale charm: while Cinderella's ice blue ballgown does recall the gown of her animated Disney counterpart, as a whole the production's aesthetic is all its own. The choreography by Rob Marshall (who would go on to direct 2002's Best Picture winner Chicago and several subsequent Hollywood musicals) is charming too, and the magical effects, aided by CGI, seem only slightly dated by today's standards.

Brandy's breathy, popish style of singing might be a slightly acquired taste in these Julie Andrews-tailored songs, but she still makes an appealing Cinderella, alternately gentle, clever, playful and vulnerable. Eleven years before The Princess and the Frog's Tiana, she gave countless black girls their first, invaluable sight of a beautiful fairy tale princess who looked like them. Montalbán's engaging, silky-voiced Prince perfectly compliments her, as do the rest of the starry cast: Peters' glamorous, funny and nasty Stepmother, the buffoonish stepsisters, Alexander's exasperated Lionel, Whoopi Goldberg as the Prince's comically smothering yet truly caring mother the Queen, Victor Garber as her husband and straight man the King, and of course Whitney Houston's charismatic Fairy Godmother, who blends the sass of Edie Adams' 1957 portrayal with the warmth of Celeste Holm's 1965 version, yet with a magnificent voice all her own.

It's no wonder that so many of us consider this Cinderella not only one of the best, but one of the most important of all the fairy tale adaptations of our childhood.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @superkingofpriderock

#cinderella #cinderella september through november #fairy tale #1997 #rodgers and hammerstein #musical #brandy norwood #the wonderful world of disney #television

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fuyunoakegata · 3 years

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mini-rant about Chuck Dixon, incoming, because it's come up several times recently...

I remember when I started reading DC Comics really seriously, 11 or 12 years ago. If you asked a group of readers the best, most influential Nightwing writer, it was a better than good chance that most of them would mention Chuck Dixon up at the top, and god forbid you badmouth him. I went along with that at the time, because he was certainly prolific, and he wrote so much that I just internalized as iconic Dick characterization, then.

Thankfully, we all grow and change as we read more and more and think about things and dig deeper and see the end results of things that could seem minor or ignorable at first.

Take Nightwing 25. The Boys. Or as most of you probably think of it as "The Trainsurfing Issue." It's definitely an iconic story. And what's not to like? Dick and Tim, together, bonding, and doing it in such an over the top Batbrother way, right? And for the bonding and working together, the sheer brotherly vibe they've got going together with Dick being a tiny bit of an ass with teasing Tim and Tim being the bratty little brother, yeah. We all loved it. But how many of you remember what they were talking about during the trainsurfing?

Women.

Chuck Dixon writing about two guys talking about women... what could go wrong? /sarcasm

They say show, not tell, so I'll share a few relevant pages.

Tim lists no less than 6 “love interests” for Dick, making it sound like that’s an unreasonable amount of women to have been with. Not all of them were the same level of importance, and some weren’t even notable enough to bring up except as trivia for the diehard fans or plot points, and some weren’t even relationships to begin with. And then, the way Dixon has Tim and even Dick describing them... Kory “answered a need Dick had for affection.” Really? They were a hell of a lot more than that to each other. If not for some technical snafus in the Titans office at the time that led to the absolute mess that was New Titans 100 (and the subsequent Deathwing *sigh*), they would have married. So yeah, Kory is a bit more than filling a need for affection (and knowing Chuck’s moralistic views, it was the physical affection he was referring to and decrying there).

Dick and Donna are platonic soulmate besties forever. Period. So no, not a romantic relationship there, even though it’s framed differently by both of them -_-

Miggie and Emily didn’t even need to be brought up. What happened? Tim went through old files on the batcomputer but then didn’t even read the whole files to realize they weren’t significant partners for Dick? *sigh* Please try to write something believable and not insulting to all the characters involved and us as readers. Please.

And then Clancy. Dixon is the one who wrote that to begin with, and then nixed it before it even got off the ground, unless he was trying to purposefully add in the confusion of “will they or won’t they?”

As for Babs... they didn’t officially become a thing until a bit later. Cover date on Nightwing 25 was October of 1998 and cover date of Birds of Prey 8 (and Dick and Babs still aren’t dating after that; and btw, that’s also a Chuck Dixon tale) was August 1999. So I’m not even sure they should even be in the will they or won’t they stage yet for the purposes of the conversation.

And then they toss in The Huntress. First off, why would Dick willingly bring that up to Tim when it was so very short-lived, anyway. It gives off “hey, little bro, guess what/who I did?” locker room talk vibes to me and just... yeah. None of this was necessary or added to the story. Neither did Tim’s and Dick’s conversation about Steph. Have I mentioned yet today how much Dixon and especially his portrayal of women pisses me off? (though I will admit one more thing to thank him for, unintentionally. I don’t think I would have shipped Babs and Dinah as much as I do if not for that scene in Birds of Prey 21, the Hunt for Oracle storyline, though that’s probably mostly the Butch Guice art).

Anyway. This is definitely one of the earliest examples I can think of with Dick being portrayed negatively as a ladies’ man, and along with the fallout of the whole Mirage fiasco in Teen Titans and Nightwing Annual 2 by Andreyko, are probably the 3 biggest reasons for that “Nightwing is a manwhore” idea that pops up again and again and should never ever have been a thing.

#meta #character analysis #nightwing 25 #complaining about chuck dixon #dick grayson

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moonlightguardianmoon · 3 years

Text

Assassin's creed Lost in modern ages

Jealousy Pt .2

It was the next day, Desmond and Altair were sitting on the couch next to each other. Altair was reading a novel while Desmond was reading a superhero-based comic. Rebecca and Shaun were sitting at the dining room table watching them a far while Connor, Jacob, Ezio, and Leonardo were talking with one another close by, all while Ezio continues staring at Altair and Desmond.

Rebecca: Aw, Shaun look at those two, it's like watching two twin brothers bonding with each other.

Shaun: you say brothers, I say experimental clones gone wrong.

Rebecca: oh stop it, Shaun they're just reading.

Shaun: exactly, so if you're making a big deal out of this then so will I. I mean just look at them.

A shot of Altair and Desmond just... reading their things.

Shaun: their facial expressions right now look almost bloody identical... some of their expressions.

Rebecca: I still think it's cute, it's not often we get to see Altair actually "bond" with any of the others.

Shaun: ya we'll I still say a cloning experiment gone wrong.

Leonardo: -so then turns out you can't use metal thin cables as a substitute for rubber covered wires, though luckily the man didn't hurt himself too badly, I was almost given a fright when he got shocked, he seemed ok afterward, but I think I learned something new after- ... Ezio?

Ezio: *staring at Altair and Desmond* . . .

Leonardo: Ezio?

Ezio: . . .

Leonardo: ...? *taps on Ezio's shoulder* Ezio are you even listening to me?

Ezio: *snaps out of it* hm? Oh, sorry Leonardo, you were saying about the wires?

Leonardo: Ezio you have been acting very strange since yesterday, is something wrong?

Ezio: I'm fine Leonardo, just have a lot on my mind right now.

Connor: are you sure? Cause you were staring at Altair and Desmond for an odd and uncomfortably long time yesterday and you're continuing to do so today. You might as well just tell us what's going on cause this is getting ridiculous.

Jacob: Heh! maybe he's jealous that those two hang out a lot.

Ezio: I am not!!!

Jacob: ... I was just joking, calm down.

Connor: ... Ezio, your getting kind of defensive about this.

Ezio: I'm not getting defensive, I'm simply pointing out the fact that I'm not jealous of Altair spending more time with Desmond than Desmond does with me.

Connor: ...

Leonardo: ...

Jacob: ... *snickers* oh my god you are jealous of Altair aren't you!

Ezio: what!? Me!? Ezio Auditore da Firenze, Jealous!? Nonsense!

Leonardo: well what you just said was oddly specific for someone who claims they're not jealous of someone else.

Connor: and you're not doing that good of a job hiding that fact.

Ezio: ... so... what if I am.

Leonardo: Ezio there is no need to be jealous, you're a family as a whole. There is no need to feel this way.

Jacob: Ya, I mean so what if they look the same, act the same, share the same favorite activities, and-

Connor: *puts a hand over Jacob's mouth* exactly, Leonardo. Besides Desmond cares for each and every one of us equally. Trust me, you're only setting yourself up for something that's going to end badly for you and Desmond.

Jacob: ... *licks Connors hand*

Connor: *flinches away in disgust* Ew gross Jacob!

Jacob: >=P

Ezio: *sighs* maybe you guys are right... maybe I'm just letting this get to me.

Leonardo: bene, glad we put a stop to this, before things got any worse.

Suddenly Desmond's phone starts to go off, as he puts his comic book down and pulls out his smartphone. He has a small surprised look on his face when he saw the contact on his phone.

Connor: ...

Leonardo: ...

Jacob: ...

Desmond: ... hey I'll be right back, I gotta take this. *gets up*

Altair: *nods at him*

Desmond: *heads outside to the front*

Connor: ... *sighs with nervous laughter* for a second I thought something bad was gonna happen to set this whole thing into chaos...

Leonardo: *nervous laughter* Si.

Jacob: ya that was a close one... so who do you think called Desmond?

Ezio: *shrugs*

Ezio, Connor, and Jacob walked over to one of the front windows and peeked through the curtains as they watched Desmond answer the phone and put it up to his ear as he seems like he's saying hello, and then letting who was on the other line speak. Desmond then speaks, unsure of what he is saying from the window. A few seconds into the conversation he seemed confused at first, then changed to an excited and happy expression. It didn't last long however as his facial expression began to slowly morph from joy to disappointed, pacing back and forth, as he starts talking again.

Jacob: ... who do you think he's talking to?

Connor: I don't know...

Ezio: whoever they are... whatever they're telling Desmond is making him a bit... upset.

Leonardo: are they? By how much?

Desmond seems to look stressed as the Isu lines on his right charcoal black arm and eyes begin to glow a bright gold as he shouted an audible-

Desmond: WHY!? Why can't you ever just-! *takes in a deep breath in and out*

Desmond calms himself down till his arm stopped glowing, his right eye however still held a dim glow, as he continues the call, his voice goes back to quiet.

Connor: ... really upset...

Leonardo: oh my...

Ezio: ...

Jacob: ... wow...

As Desmond slows down his pacing he finally comes to a stop and he hangs up the phone. The three quickly sprung away from the window back where they were standing and glanced away when the door opened to let a very upset Desmond inside.

Rebecca: ... you ok Desmond?

Desmond: . . .

Shaun: um... earth to Desmond?

Altair: *glances over Desmond, with his golden eye visibly showing from his hood*

Desmond: ... *takes in a deep breath then exhales* ya... *his eye stops glowing completely* I'm fine. . . hey uh... Altair?

Altair: *turns over fully to Desmond* yes?

Desmond: uh... do you want to go see a movie later? Cause I got an extra ticket to go see one and uh... he-

Altair: he bailed on you last minute... again?

Desmond: ... *nods yes*

Altair: *sighs* Alright, I'll get my things ready, just tell me when we're able to go and I'll be ready.

Desmond: cool, movie starts at one. Sorry if it's a bit of a short notice.

Ezio: . . .

Altair: *marks his book and closes it* It's fine Desmond. We'll meet back in the living in an hour and a half. Will you ok driving?

Desmond: I think I'll be ok.

Altair: *nods then heads up stairs*

Shaun: ... wwwhat was that all about?

Desmond: nothing important. *goes into the kitchen to get his keys for his motorcycle*

Rebecca: you sure? That yelling outside didn't sound like "nothing important". Sounded super important, at least to you anyway.

Desmond: It's all sorted out now becs. *grabs his keys* don't worry about it. *starts walking towards the door* Anyways, I'm heading to the gas station to get movie snacks, cause the prices for theater snacks are, sh*****t. Later *heads out the door*

Connor: ... that was... something?

Leonardo: well Desmond hasn't been feeling all that well as of late.

Jacob: you've talked to him lately?

Leonardo: mhm, I have, I always ask everyone how they are doing.

Connor: so what's been with him?

Leonardo: things haven't been going so well for him for these past three months for him. He keeps saying he'll be fine soon enough... but I don't think much has changed, if not slightly worsen.

Jacob: how come?

Leonardo: I'm not sure. He refuses to tell me the key reasoning behind it. All I know is that he's been feeling down for the past months, for his personal life, and that's all he told me.

Connor: *sighs* Desmond probably has a lot on his plate, that phone call was probably something important.

Jacob: Maybe he just needs a bit of cheering up! Right Ezio- ...

Ezio: O_O . . .

Jacob: oh bloody hell.

Leonardo: Ezio... we just went over this.

Ezio: . . .

Connor: Ezio, what's-

Ezio: HE INVITED HIM TO A MOVIE! RIGHT IN FRONT OF US!!! AND OUT OF EVERYONE HERE, HE PICKED ALTAIR TO SEE IT!?!? WHY!?!?

Connor: Ezio calm down!

Leonardo: easy amigo!

Jacob: it's not that big of a deal!

Ezio: Not that big of a deal!?!? It's a huge deal! A massive one at that!

Shaun: what are you all yelling about!?!?

Connor: Ezio's jealous of Altair because Desmond's been hanging out with him more often than him.

Jacob: ya Ezio's jelly, cause Desmond is around Altair more.

Leonardo: and- ...

Jacob: ... what?

Leonardo: jelly?

Jacob: ya that's what I said he's jelly, that Altair is spending more time with Desmond. Ezio's jelly. Jelly~.

Leonardo: ... never in my life have I ever heard anyone, use jelly, as an alternative word for jealous.

Jacob: I know right! I just heard it a while back, and I found it really hilarious, so I started using it myself and-

Rebecca: uh, guys.

Leonardo: hm?

Jacob: what?

Rebecca: Ezio's gone...

They all look to where Ezio once stood... he was gone.

Connor: ... *looks at the front door* and the front door is open...

Shaun: oh, bloody hell.

Rebecca: ... I think he was still wearing his assassin robes too...

Jacob: ...

Leonardo: ...

Shaun: ...

Connor: 😑 ... sh*t.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one ��😎 of Jealousy part 2. Where do you think Ezio ran off to? What movie are Altair and Desmond gonna go see? Who was calling Desmond on the phone and why is he so upset about it? Tune in to find out next time on-

Assassin's creed lost in modern ages!

Jealousy Pt 3.

Prev - next

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed lost in modern ages #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #altair #headcanon #jacob frye #ezio auditore #funny #shaun hastings #rebecca crane #leonardo da vinci #leonardo #connor ratonhakè:ton #connor kenway #ezio assassins creed #ezio auditore da firenze

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 21, 2021: Orlando (1992)

Tilda Swinton...confuses me.

Like, in a good way. Because Tilda may be the most versatile actor working today. I mean, look at the goddamn filmography, and you’ll see what I’ve mean. I’ve seen Tilda Swinton in a lot, surprisingly, and I don’t think anything I’ve seen was bad. For example, I am an ARDENT defender in the portrayal of the Ancient One in the MCU.

I understand the controversy here, but I actually think this is excellent casting. Especially considering...being comic book-accurate would NOT have been a good idea with this role, if we’re trying to AVOID controversy. But Tilda Swinton FUCKING KILLED IT in this role, and I will always be happy for this choice.

Let’s see, there’s Jadis in the Narnia films, as shown at the top, there’s Snowpiercer, as Mason (an amazing character, and an acting job that Swinton disappears into), Moonrise Kingdom as Social Services, The Grand Budapest Hotel as Madame D., and Gabriel in Constantine. Which is a good segue to the next talking point...

Gabriel is pointedly androgynous, and honestly, Tilda Swinton kind of is as well. You may have noticed that I haven’t used any pronouns in referencing to Tilda Swinton, entirely out of respect. Gonna be a little hard to keep up with, so I’ll be using she/her from here on out, only because those are the pronouns that Swinton’s most recently promoted for herself. She’s also referred to herself as queer of some variety, as well as being famously gender non-conforming.

Which is fitting, given that a lot of that public image began with today’s movie, one of her first big roles. I’ll be revisiting Swinton in the independent movie scene in a couple of months, but this may be a good introduction. Instead of spoiling anything off the bat, I’m gonna jump right in. And so, I present: Orlando. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin with a young man named, well, Orlando (Tilda Swinton), a young man with a feminine appearance and a good upbringing. His name means power land and property, but all he really wants is company. He writes and rests by a tree in the day, but falls asleep by mistake. When he wakes up, he runs back to where he’s meant to be, with a tribute to Queen Elizabeth I (Quentin Crisp) playing in the background. And that’s a REAL song, by the way, actually sung in the 1600s for Elizabeth! Very neat.

A title screen flashes, reading “1600: Death”, and we see where Orlando is meant to be. He speaks poetry for the Queen and her court, but is interrupted by the aged queen, who asks whether or not his poem is appropriate for her presence, as the poem is about youth, and Queen Elizabeth is not that. Orlando’s father (John Bott), who is serving as host to Elizabeth, intervenes on his behalf. However, it doesn’t seem to matter to the Queen, as she invites Orlando back to England to serve as her “favourite”. He accepts, and soon lives alongside the Queen. She quickly promises Orlando much land and property, for him and his heirs, but on one condition: that he does not fade, wither, or grow old.

The same wish cannot be applied to Elizabeth herself, nor to his father, as both grow old and die soon afterwards. Fast forward 10 years, and it’s a cold winter in England. Visiting Orlando’s vast estate is a woman from Russia, named Sasha (Charlotte Valandrey), and Orlando quickly falls for her. This is to the dismay of Euphrosne (Anna Healy), his fiancée? I’m not sure, to be honest, but they’re definitely involved, and she’s definitely upset.

However, this is also a scandal for everybody else as well, not just because Orlando’s already engaged, but also because Sasha is Russian, during a particularly poor economic period for the country. Euphrosne angrily throws his ring back at him, and Orlando speaks directly to the audience, telling us that a man must follow his heart. The two go to his private cottage, and they start to make out, when Orlando suddenly comes down with intense melancholy.

Because this is such great happiness that he feels, but this happiness too will one day end. Which is, like, the most emo-shit I’ve ever heard, but I’m kinda here for it. And yet, that happiness does indeed end, when Sasha is forced to return to Russia, despite Orlando’s pleading for her to stay. He asks her to meet him at London Bridge, so that they may elope together.

Later, Orlando happens upon a performance of Othello, noting to us that it’s a terrific play. This is as the death of Othello is being played out, so that’s probably foreshadowing, right? Anyway, Orlando leads two horses through the thick fog, waiting for Sasha to arrive and come away with him. But as a storm sets in, there is no sign of Sasha. And Orlando stands there in the rain. Said rain, though, soon becomes ice, underneath his feet, floating away down the river, along with his hopes of a happy future with Sasha. The treachery of women, according to Orlando.

Over the next week, Orlando languishes in his bed, asleep for the entire time. Increasingly more servants are brought up to try and rouse him, only for him to remain asleep, no matter what they do. But then, he wakes up, noting that he can only conjure three words to describe women, none of them worth explaining.

Forty years later, and the title screen cries “Poetry”! And Orlando looks exactly the same. Guess he really took that whole “don’t grow old” thing from Elizabeth to heart, huh? He speaks to a poet, Nick Greene (Heathcote Williams), and gushes about his poetry, which is a pursuit that he loves greatly. But Nick is...well, Nick is kind of a dick, to be honest. Orlando wants only to share his love and his poetry with him, but Nick’s only in it for the money. Not a true artist, and he mocks Orlando’s poetry, which he reads only after Orlando offers him money. And then, he writes a poem mocking Orlando further, which angers Orlando...but doesn’t stop the money flowing to Nick.

Orlando moves onto his next pursuit, in 1700, in the next section: Politics. Now over 100 years old, Orlando becomes an ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, and travels to Constantinople. There, he receives a somewhat rough and awkward greeting, which Orlando is not helping with. They share some Turkish coffee, Orlando has trouble drinking that Turkish coffee, they drink a LOT of Turkish coffee, and they toast to multiple things, including the “beauty of women, and the joys of love.” Orlando pauses at this, and reveals that he is still suffering quite a bit of heartbreak. His Turkish friend, the Khan (Lothaire Bluteau), bonds with him about this.

After 10 years, Orlando has fully retreated into life as a Turkish man. This is interrupted by a British emissary, sent to bring him news of a new appointment and power from the Queen. However, something goes wrong when the Khan arrives and takes Orlando hostage. The city is under attack, and the Khan asks Orlando if he will help against their enemies. Orlando agrees, and gives them arms, and heads to help himself at the walls. There, he witnesses a man dying, and it shakes him greatly. And just like before, he sleeps it off for seven days. And then...she wakes up.

YUP. WHAT.

Yeah, um, Orlando is now a woman. Like she says: “Same person, just a different sex.” Which is a very interesting premise, not gonna lie. Looks like Orlando now has to live life as a woman, which is going to be...difficult in 1700s Turkey. Or England. Or anywhere. Or any time.

Still, Orlando approaches this new life with aplomb, and without really any needed caution. Parading in some awesome dresses, she greets fellow nobility as the lady Orlando. However, the emissary from earlier, Archduke Harry (John Wood), begins to recognize her as similar to the lord Orlando.

In speaking with a group of poets, however, Orlando learns EXACTLY what men think of women in this society, and it’s not even a little bit good. She leaves, enraged and embarrassed. Harry also speaks with her, assuming that she was a woman all along. However, Orlando’s in EVEN MORE shit, as she’s quickly served with papers that are an attempt to take away all of her property and titles, because Lord Orlando is legally dead, and Lady Orlando is a woman, which one of them says is basically the same thing. FUCKIN’ YIKES, BRUV.

Ah, but Harry tries to help by proposing to her ON THE FUCKIN’ SPOT. He believed that Orlando was perfect as both genders, and is happy to do it. However, Orlando understandably refuses, and after Harry tells her that she will die as a spinster, alone and dispossessed, she runs into a nearby hedge maze. And while in the hedge maze, time passes, and her outfit changes to match the period accordingly.

Forward 140 years now! The year is 1850, and a new chapter begins: Sex.

And as she runs from the maze, she runs into who else...but Shelmerdine (Billy Zane), a man who...Shelmerdine? SHELMERDINE? What fuckin’ witch cursed his entirely family line to have THAT name? That’s the kind of family that was named AFTER a bridge, not the other way around! WHAT KINDA NAME IS FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE?

Well, I’ve looked it up now, and it is apparently a real name. So, if any Shelmerdines are reading this...I mean, I’m sorry, but also, FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE? OK, back to Shelmerdine. He’s twisted his ankle falling off his horse, and Orlando is now taking care of him. She reveals, in the process, that she’s about to lose everything. The reasons for that aren’t quite said, but Shelmerdine offers a place at his side, back to the great free land of America.

After having a conversation about the roles of men and women in the world (which is interesting given the context of the film in general), the two fulfill the chapter’s imperative. And we never see the act, but we do get some interesting angles and hand-holding. But the next morning, this post-coital reverie is interrupted by the lawyers from the Queen. The lawsuits have been settled, and Orlando has been legally declared a woman, meaning that unless she has a son, all of her possessions will be lost.

Shelmerdine (I swear, every time I say that name, a fairy gets chlamydia) leaves as well, with the southwest wind. As he heads back to America to fight for freedom, Orlando stands in the rain, facing an uncertain future, and broken fully by the politics of the time period.

And then...the sound of planes overhead. Looks like a new time period once again, heading into the periods of World Wars, and Orlando is now...heavily pregnant. OH. FUCK. Welcome to the next chapter: Birth.

We jump past the period of World War II, and to the 1990s! Orlando is presenting a book to a publisher, and he believes that the book will sell. With her young daughter in tow, she finally goes back to her old mansion, now finally able to go back after losing it 100 years prior. The narration from the beginning repeats, recontextualized for Orlando’s new life. She is over 400 years old, and finally, FINALLY...she is happy.

youtube

And that’s Orlando! I think I loved it. Real talk, this was a fascinating movie, and I’m into it. I’m very much into it. I’m sure there’s more to be gleaned from this film, but I’m glad I watched it regardless. More in the Review, though! See you there!

#orlando #orlando 1992 #sally potter #tilda swinton #billy zane #lothaire bluteau #john wood #virginia woolf #orlando film #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365days365movies #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #mygifs #my gifs

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sasa-gay-yo · 3 years

Text

His Little Teacher (Levi Ackerman x Teacher!Reader)

Request: Here

Summary: You never knew your favorite kindergartener, Isabel Ackerman, had such a good-looking father until Parent-Teacher Conferences.

Timeline: Modern!AU

Warnings: this bitch is LONG, Some slight mentions of sexual activity, drinkin

Art Credits: ? help pls

She was the only child who never had a chaperone, or a parent come with cookies or treats on their birthday. If you didn’t look at her profile, you wouldn’t even know what day her birthday was and that it had passed a month prior to today. Even when you would go on field trips, like today, sending home permission slips encouraging parents to come to museum, all that came back was the five dollars for lunch and his elusive signature.

Levi Ackerman

Despite that, you loved the little raven-haired girl. She was smart, she always listened, washed her own face and hands after craft time, and she always talked about her father. Even now, on the bus to the museum with her pink princess backpack on her lap, she was talking about her father to you. From what you gathered, her mother had passed away when she was born, and he was the only one taking care of her. That’s what her preschool teacher had said to you in the teacher’s lounge last week. You felt bad that you judged his parenting when you finally learned that, now knowing he was probably working hard to take care of her and raise her as well as he did. You just wanted parents to be involved with their children, especially with your favorite child. However, from what she’s told you about her father, you didn’t need to worry about that too much.

“And he’s so strong Miss. (Y/L/N)! Yesterday, Daddy and I went to pick out a fish tank and he carried it even full of water to our kitchen table. Daddy got a Dory fish and I got a Nemo fish.” You smiled down at her, nodding at her stories. She grabbed at your hand harder, trying to convince you at how strong her father was. You did wonder what the man looked like, again, having the preschool teachers tell you all about her glorious looking father. Still, halfway through the school year, you’d never met him, and she took the bus back and forth from school every day. You just had his neat signature.

Throughout the whole field trip, she didn’t let go of your hand, dragging you around to all of the stations while you let your other fellow teachers deal with the whole group. They knew that they couldn’t do anything to drag you away from that child. She was like a magnet to you, even on the first day of school. Your fellow teachers said that your first class of students was always special, and so it made sense that you had a relationship with a child like that. Bright-eyed, cute, and very insightful on certain things. The only thing that you would write down on her monthly report cards was how blunt she was to her fellow students.

You would have to hide your laugh with the things she said to them. In her defense, nothing she said was wrong, but you did have to teach her how to give constructive criticism without insulting anyone. When you sat her in the time out corner, she would give an annoying look at the calm-down toys, her arms crossed. It was comical, but oh, so cute. This is why you taught kindergarteners. They were just learning how to live life, and you were there to guide them along on their quite funny mistakes... and you got a front row seat to those hilarious moments.

“Miss. (Y/L/N), did I tell you that Daddy can come to student teacher conferences? He gave me a note to give you!” She dug through her backpack again and pulled out a cleanly folded white piece of paper to give to you.

“That’s great, Isabel! I can tell your father how good you are.” She beamed up at me, and you knew how much she loved when you praised her. It must be what her father does at home. You took time to read the tiny note, taking in neat and orderly handwriting.

Miss. (Y/L/N),

Next week’s Parent-Teacher conference openings are at weird times in my work schedule, but I do really wish to attend to talk about Isabel’s first school year. Is there anyway we can have a meeting later in the night? I’m sorry if it’s too much of you to ask to stay in the building that long, but either 8 or 9pm would work best for me. I am able to get Isabel a babysitter then.

My email is: [email protected]

Thank you in advance,

Levi Ackerman, Isabel Ackerman’s father

There it was, that signature. You had seen it almost every week on a random piece of paper or Isabel’s planner. You would make sure that you would stay late for him. You wanted to meet the man that raised your favorite student on his own. Even if it was Friday and you were planning to go out for drinks, you were sure your friends would understand your lateness.

When you had waved all the children goodbye, including Isabel who was always last on the bus wanting to keep talking to you, you went right away to email Mr. Ackerman back.

Hello Mr. Ackerman,

This is Isabel’s kindergarten teacher, Miss. (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). I received your note today, and am totally willing to meet with you at 8:30 or 9 pm. The last scheduled meeting for Friday is at 8:00 pm, so you won’t be holding me back in the building at all. I am excited to meet you and talk about Isabel’s progress!

Best,

(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)

You sent the email and sat back in your chair, thinking about the man before you got to grading the color tests. From what the other teachers had told you, he was short, but very good looking. He also seemed a bit young to be a father, or at least that’s what their judgement was. You probably wouldn’t be very focused on his looks, but his personality. If it was anything like Isabel’s, it was to be enjoyable. You wouldn’t be upset to stay back for that.

In the teacher’s lounge, you took out the early dinner you packed, turning to the others who had done the same. The town had to be small enough that even if they didn’t have Isabel in their class, they would know about the Ackermans. You didn’t grow up in this town, and you only did your student teaching here, so you knew absolutely nothing besides what the PTA moms gossiped loudly about in your classroom.

“Do any of you know about Levi Ackerman? All I’ve heard is that he’s young and good looking. I have a conference with him this week.” You sat down with the younger teachers whom you formed a bond with your first day here. They also looked eager to answer your question in hushed tones.

“The only thing I know is that the woman he got pregnant was like a one-night stand or something. They didn’t like each other, were in the same friend group, and then it was like a drunken fantasy or something. Then, she shows up a few months later after he got hired at this big company in town, pregnant. Rumors say that she was going to terminate her pregnancy, but he vogued to keep it. The day after Isabel Ackerman’s birth, she took off, never to be heard or seen from again.” You mouth widened as you shoveled in your rice.

“I thought she died? Isabel said something like that.” The all shook their heads no.

“It’s probably what he tells her since she’s too young to understand.” You nodded in agreement and turned to Mella who was student-teaching for the preschool when Isabel was there. She was the one who told you how he looked, and she apparently went to school around him.

“Is he as handsome as they say?” She shrugged and took a drink.

“He is, short, but like, he’s a dark handsome if that makes sense. It’s the personality that people didn’t like. He’s really antisocial and mean to other parents, like he’ll insult you for anything. He was the best at everything during high school, and people always thought he was cocky, hence the attitude..”

“So that’s where Isabel gets her little problem from. I hope he isn’t like the other parents then, thinking their kid is the best. If he is, I guess he’ll just be nice to look at.”

Friday 8:39 PM

“Yes, well, sometimes when we see this behavior in a student, we first tell the parents to see if it is something at home affecting them. Perhaps other older siblings? Someone who may show negative emotion to him?” She scoffed in your face and grabbed the behavior evaluation sheet out of your hands.

“There is nothing wrong at our house! How dare you to assume that about us!” The husband just sat back in the chair almost glaring at his wife. Right, right, nothing going on at your house. You felt bad for Ryan too. The boy was smart and incredibly creative, but he couldn’t play well with anyone else. He felt the need to yell at any child who tried to get him to share, probably emulating behavior of an older sibling or parent. No doubt, the mother… but you had to be professional about the headache she was giving me.

“I’m so sorry if my words offended you! I didn’t mean anything like that,” you held your hands up in defense, “Maybe it could be TV shows he watches that models this type of behavior? Something to spur anger?” That made her calm down and think about it. You didn’t think a six-year-old was watching violent TV shows on PBS, but who knows what goes on in that house.

“Maybe we can monitor his TV intake, yes.” You sighed and looked up at the clock. This had gone over thirty minutes because they had to pick apart everything you said about Ryan. You sneaked a look out the door but saw an empty hallway. When was he going to come?

“Thank you both for coming. It means so much to me that you are involved in your child’s education at such an early age. It shows them the importance of an education and makes my job that much easier!” You gave them your spiel, standing by the door, and she refused to leave for some reason. She probably wanted to stay and brag loudly to the next parent who was coming. That was a common thing, for the parents waiting to talk about their kids, but how much genius could you find in your kids scissor practice paper?

“Do you know what parent is next? We’re friends with most of them, you know, PTA president things! It’s getting late however, are we the last ones?” She was looking left and right down the dimly lit hallway to stalk her prey.

“Next is Mr. Ackerman. He’s the last parent to go.” Her smile dropped.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him around. He doesn’t donate for the fairs; he hasn’t come to any of the Daddy-daughter dances we’ve had… I wonder what he even does, all alone like that.” You heard the tone of judgment ricochet through her words and your headache got bigger. She had no room to judge other parents.

“Well, I think it’s very commendable how he’s raised such a wonderful child in the circumstances he’s been given. Being a single parent is never easy. My mother raised me and my siblings by herself.” She looked you up and down, now judging you for your upbringing. She should be judging how her attitude affects her son’s interpersonal skills.

“Ah, yes, how commendable of your mother! Honey, we should get back to the kids.” She gave me a sickening smile before hauling her husband down the hallway, no doubt to insult you. You made sure she turned the corner, and the hallway was clean before you collapsed back on the door frame, holding your head.

“I swear I never had such bad parents when I was student teaching. Ugh, my head. How much can you analyze a five-year-old’s sight word recognition?”

“And they want judge me for not going to any PTA meetings when they act like this.” You jumped, covering your mouth as a silent scream ran through your body. How had you not seen him? He was leaning on the wall right next to the door, suit coat in hand. You were sure you checked both sides of the hallway before you said that. Damn it. Strike one to you acting professional.

“M-Mr. Ackerman. Nice to meet you finally!” You re-tucked your shirt back in before extending a hand. He looked down at it, smirking, before shaking your hand back.

“Nice to meet you too, Miss. (Y/L/N). My daughter seems to only talk about you these days.” You almost blushed at his words and from the fact you finally got to see him. He was incredibly handsome. You didn’t know why you didn’t listen enough your fellow teachers, and you wish you prepared yourself more than the sweater and the midi-skirt you were wearing. You did have a change of clothes for the bar you’d be going to with your friends after this, but that was highly, highly school inappropriate. What was also inappropriate was how long you were staring at his suit clad form. It was the way he had his sleeves rolled up and two buttons undone that made you stare.

“Let’s go in,” you smiled at him, gesturing to the circular table you set up in the center of the classroom. You had Isabel’s file right on the desk waiting for him. It was funny to see him sit in the small chair that was meant for a child who tagged along, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him. It fit his height a bit, and was very cute.

“That chair is for the children unless you would like to sit in it. I have no judgement though; they are surprisingly comfortable.” He looked up at me before seeing the regular sized chairs at the other end of the table. He then just shrugged and set his suit coat to hand on the side of the purple chair.

“We have these at home, so I’m used to it.” You nodded and opted to sit down on an equal sized chair to be eye level with him. He noticed your gesture and smiled at you. Now that, you would literally pay to see him smile again. You thought back to what Mella said. Cocky, insulting; you didn’t see any of that now. Maybe he’d matured the few years after they went to school or just was trying to act nice in front of his daughter’s teacher.

Isabel had talked so much about her father, but he never said how incredibly hot he was. I mean, that made sense, but still. He couldn’t have been older than you, there was no way. How was this man hiding in the midst of all the middle-aged parents? You were excited to share the news with your friends after this. A hot parent was always nice, and you hadn’t had one yet. He would be your first.

“Well, Mr. Ackerman, this is going to be a short meeting. Isabel is my model student really. Here’s some work of hers to look at. She’s smart, attentive, clean, and very, very sweet.” He smiled down at a drawing Isabel had made of him and that made your heart sing even more. This smile was very different from the short one he gave you. It was like his soul was singing through his eyes. How could he be so hot and so loving of his child at the same time? You could see it. The genuine love he had for that drawing and the little girl who made it. The little girl who looked exactly like her father, minus the eye color.

“But she does have a mouth, I know that for a fact. The fat mom called me a few weeks ago complaining about what Isabel said to… what’s his name? Rock? Rufus?” You couldn’t hold in your laugh this time, even if it was unprofessional to agree with him. The whole meeting was unprofessional at this point. You were sitting in foot tall chairs and thinking about how good of a figure he had. It was actually refreshing how laid back he seemed to be, unlike the other parents, especially this late at night.

“Yes, she is sometimes very… critical of her peers. Ryan is a student who doesn’t get along with others. She had to let him know that. To be honest, it is very funny, but still, we have to teach her to be constructive with it.” He nodded, now listening to your words with the same attention he gave to Isabel’s drawing. It made you melt even more. He cared so much about his child. Oh god, why was he perfect?

“I’ll work on her with that. She gets that from me. During quarantine, when she was doing preschool at home, I was also working. She probably heard me talking to some of my workers in that tone.” That made me perk up, knowing absolutely nothing about him. You usually do parent introductions at the first all-class meeting, but he, obviously, wasn’t there. Now that he exceeded all your expectations, you want to know more.

“If you mind me asking, where do you work?” He leaned back as much as he could in the chair, trying to spread his legs under the table. The way his ankle brushed against yours didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m a Lead Captain in the Survey company in town. I’m fifty-fifty office work and on the job work, lifting and things.” That would explain how good his arms were looking under his sleeves. He did manual labor half of the time.

You nodded and handed him Isabel’s behavior sheet out of the folder. You got your pen to explain him the scales, and when you turned back, he had leaned in pretty far to hover over the paper. Trying to hide your blush in your hair, you tried not to react to his closeness. He didn’t seem to pull back, so you continued to explain to him how her score was perfect except for group behavior. Again, he listened so intently to your suggestions and what you had to say about Isabel it made your heart glow with warmth.

“I guess when she was younger, the only interaction she would get was at morning preschool. She only has a babysitter since I can’t afford daycare. That’s my fault, one hundred percent. I-I heard that you know how single parenting is.” He pointed to the door with his thumb, referring to the interaction you had with Ryan’s parents. It was refreshing for a parent to take the blame too. He was getting more and more perfect by the minute. A perfect child and a perfect father. It made so much sense.

“Yes, growing up I was an attention hog. I only had older brothers, so when I went to school I expect to be treated like a princess. I had my first great awakening when a boy threw mud at my face during recess because I refused to share my swing.” He leaned his head back and let out a deep laugh and you matched him, taking in the view he was giving you. This seemed to be a one night only type thing, so you’d take your liberties where you could. I mean, if you didn’t study his face, how were you going to describe him well enough to everyone at the bar?

No. You shouldn’t be thinking this much about how good looking and perfect a student’s parent was. You shouldn’t be thinking about what’s under his clothes either.

“With the way Isabel talks about you, you might as well be a princess. It’s ‘Miss. (Y/L/N) does it this way, Daddy’ or ‘Daddy, today Miss. (Y/L/N) and I did this!’ You seem to be taking my child away from me, Miss. (Y/L/N).” You smiled, and almost blushed at what he was telling you about Isabel and put a hand over your heart. The teachers were right about your first class.

“You can call me (Y/F/N), Mr. Ackerman. We seem to be similar in age.” He sat up again, nodding and taking the behavior sheet you gave him.

“Then it’s Levi to you, (Y/F/N). I’m thirty-two. May I ask how old you are?” Your mouth dropped and you couldn’t help it. You didn’t think he would be in his thirties and now your numbers were thrown off.

“You don’t look at all like you’re over thirty. I’m twenty-seven.” He smirked again and seemed to be comfortable enough to lean back again, arms coming together behind his head. The pose made your heart beat faster again. Oh yeah, you were telling your friends all about this.

“Well, thank you, (Y/F/N). I’m glad you think I’m so young. Isabel calls me an old man already.” You laughed and looked up at the clock. 8:52. You had time to talk more, pushing a few minutes, but you didn’t know if he had somewhere to go. This meeting itself was set up because of scheduling conflicts. You wanted to talk to him more about Isabel and his experience raising her, but you didn’t know if that would be too personal for him.

“Now, that might be my fault. She asked me sometime during our lesson about family how old did someone have to be to be considered an Uncle and I told her above 30. Then she asked if I was old, and I told her that compared to her I was. So, she now thinks that people about twenty-seven are now old.” He shook his head and let out one huff in laughter.

“Now because of you I have no game. Imagine, first, I already have a child, and now when I bring a date home, she tells her that I was an old man. I never get a third date because of that. Are you trying to keep me forever single, (Y/F/N)?” Was he… was he flirting with you? No, it couldn’t be. He was just talking, just bantering like every parent does. The problem was is that he was a very single, very good-looking parent. This was a dangerous situation and it happened during your first-year teaching. This was bad.

“I’ll talk to her on Monday to tell her to stop calling her father an old man. Does that atone for my sins?” He quirked an eyebrow up, smirking again, but this time you could tell that he was definitely flirting with you.

“Maybe, I’ll have to come to these meetings more often. To check up on your progress with getting my daughter to go against me. The only reason I don’t come around the school often is because of the other parents.” You leaned your head in your hand, finally just deciding to go along with it. Even if he said that, this was probably the only time you two were going to meet and Isabel was going to progress on to a new teacher in a few months. You both were young too, nothing was going to get to HR.

“Next week, I’ll try to get her to call you a silly, old man, how about it? We can have a progress check next Friday.” You felt your Apple Watch buzz, looking down to see who was calling. Armin. He was probably wondering where you were, but you thought you told them you’d be late.

“I’m sorry about that, it’s just my friends.” You went to hang up, knowing that in a few minutes Eren would call. Then Jean. Then Connie. Then Sasha. Then Historia. Mikasa wouldn’t care, but at this point, the train of calls would be never ending. You were going to yell at them for cutting into your time with Levi.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I also have something to do tonight, but it was great talking to you.” You almost pouted when he went to stand up, grabbing Isabel’s folder. You were dumb to think he was flirting with you, and now you got your hopes up.

“If you have anything you need or any questions about Isabel, I’m here to answer them. Also, I’m supposed to extend out an invitation for our Spring Festival celebration next week. If you would like to come, it will be on Friday at 2 pm.” You stood, matching his height. You really wanted him to come this time, as he never came to anything, but you knew he probably wouldn’t.

He smiled at you, “You know, maybe I will come. You’ll just have to protect me from the PTA moms.” You both started walking to the door and you took the chance, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Levi, I stay as far away from them as possible. It’s an all-school thing, so it will be easy to avoid them.” You saw the little glance down to your hand before he just nodded once and continued to walk out of your classroom. He put on his suit coat and looked back at me, smiling a bit to say goodbye.

“Have fun with your friends tonight, (Y/F/N). A great teacher like you deserves to relax.” You smiled back at him, leaning on the doorframe.

“You, too, Levi. With whatever you’re doing tonight. A single father like you deserves to relax.”

Club Rio

“Eren, if I have to tell you to stop touching me one more time, I will break your arm off!” He winced, taking his arm off of your shoulders and drinking his beer. The bar was packed tonight, so there was almost seven of you crowded around a single circle tabletop. You already felt smooshed, so you didn’t want Eren to make it worse.

“How were your conferences today, (Y/F/N)?” Armin asked you from across the table and you held a thumb up while taking a drink. It may be squished, but it was worth it to get this buzz. You took Levi’s advice and relaxed hard. The amount of bullshit you spewed in the last three days to make the parents happy to it out of you.

“Most of them are the same old, your child is great, I love having them in my class, here’s something to work on though, and then they blame my teaching. It’s really annoying having to agree with their criticism of me, but I want to keep my job. However,” you held a finger up, “the last meeting was with a single father in my class. He was amazingly hot. A bit over thirty. He also is the father of my favorite student, so it just added to it. Like a treat at the end of a hard week.” You could hear Jean and Eren scoff, but Historia leaned in, her blue eyes wide and sparkly from the drinks.

“What did he look like?”

“He’s short, like my height, but he has black hair. An undercut. Then he’s definitely muscular. You could even see it through his button up. Thirty-Two. His eyes are really narrow, but like a type of grey that shines. One of the teachers described him to be a dark handsome, and I completely agree. She also said he was kinda of cocky and insulted people a lot. Too bad he doesn’t show up around the school because he’s busy at working at some company in town.” You saw Jean and Armin exchange looks and you pointed at both of them.

“Hey, hey, hey. What was that?” Jean spoke up first.

“Um, well, is this person - is his name Levi Ackerman by chance?” Your eyes widened and you stood straight up, your body colliding with Eren’s. Jean now had your full attention.

“How do you know him? You two didn’t live here before!” Jean leaned to rest his arms on the table, looking at Eren to explain since he wouldn’t have to yell over the crowd.

“No, but he’s our team captain at work. Short, black hair, mean, grey eyes: I think you described him to a T. But, you said he was a treat? That doesn’t sound at all like the Levi that chewed me out today because I didn’t put a signature at the end of my email.” Eren answered and you gave him a confused look. Levi seemed really nice and he joked with you. Maybe it was just his work personality.

“He was though. He even called me a great teacher and we went by first name basis.” This time Mikasa spoke up next to Eren.

“Levi’s nice to women, Eren. Not to people who probably mess up all the time at work.” Eren groaned and you arched your body around his so you could look at her. She did look a little like him, but she was half Asian, so there was some doubt in your mind. From what you could connect though, they may act alike in certain situations. Maybe it was on her dad’s side.

“Ackerman! Are you related?! How did I not think about that before?” She nodded as Eren nudged her for the comment she made about his work ethic.

“On my father’ side. We’re cousins, but distant. I don’t talk to him unless we’re forced to at family functions. But he does act how they’re saying. He’s cold and calm, you can’t tell what he’s thinking usually. Most of the time he has a scowl on his face and doesn’t talk a lot unless it’s an insult or something. Then again, you’re a pretty woman, so that could have changed his attitude.” You blushed a bit, trying to hide it in your hair, but Connie caught you.

“You have a little crush on the DILF, don’t you?! I can see it!” He poked your cheek, him and Sasha roaring in laughter.

“No, he was just nice to look at! He also really cares about his daughter, which is just… girls like guys who are good with kids. Teacher’s also like parents who care about their kids, it makes my job easier.” They still couldn’t stop laughing and you couldn’t stop blushing.

“A teacher-parent relationship, how scandalous,” Jean added in on making fun of me, “What will the PTA moms say about that (Y/F/N)?” You glared at all of them as they laughed.

“I told you he was just hot!”

Paradis Elementary Spring Festival

“Do you need any help reorganizing this whole table so the PTA mom’s stop roping me into work I don’t want to do?” You jumped at the body that came close behind you. You also jumped because you didn’t expect him to show up. The little raven-haired girl ran to the playground and you turned around quickly, eyes wide.

“Levi! I mean, Mr. Ackerman. I’m glad you showed up!” He nodded and used both hands to lean down on the table seeing the cupcakes that I rearranged four times, so I didn’t have to talk to the mothers about their kids.

“You said you’d protect me from them, but there I was carrying all the boxes from their damn cars.” You looked over at the mothers, now huddled around staring at you talking to Levi and gossiping. Figures. Last year, one of the third-grade teachers breathed in the wrong direction and there were rumors about her having an affair with a married man. You hoped you weren’t next on the PTA list.

“Well, its not common for a father to come to these types of events. Notice how there aren’t any on the PTA.” He switched positions so he could lean on the table and watch Isabel play on the swings with her friends and the older children. You picked up the Capri Suns from the ground, deciding to organize them by flavor.

“You know what Isabel asked me the other night? After our conference?” You perked up at his words, signaling that you were interested in what she said.

“Hm?” He scratched the back of his neck, now debating whether he should tell you this. It was a bit personal and maybe would make you, as a teacher, uncomfortable with Isabel. Either way, he did it.

“Well, I actually had a date that night,” your heart dropped a little bit, and you scowled down at your chest, “and my date needed an umbrella, so I went in to get her one. When I came out Isabel was there outside our apartment, glaring up at this woman, arms crossed and everything.” You giggled at that, imagining it in your head. You could see her signature glare now looking up at someone three times taller and five times older. You looked over to Isabel, matching Levi’s stance against the table. Right now, it looked like she was lecturing a boy on how to play the floor is lava.

“She asked me why I didn’t bring you home,” he said through a laugh and you followed his cue laughing. You weren’t doing any laughing on the inside. Your mind was swirling now after he said that, but he couldn’t have meant that. It was just Isabel thinking like a six-year-old. If Levi told her he had a date, she might have just thought that the two meetings were connected. Yeah, he couldn’t mean anything other than that.

Still.

“Ah, she’s funny, isn’t she?” You almost winced at how dismissive your tone was. It sounded like you wanted to move on from the conversation and you were afraid he took it the wrong way. You didn’t want to dismiss the opportunity of it being him flirting with you, but you also didn’t believe that was his intention. Now he thought must have thought that it was your intention to ignore it anyways. He stayed silent after that. Goddamn it. You had to fill the space somehow.

“Are you related to a Mikasa?” He seemed to perk up after that, turning his head to look right at you in recognition.

“She’s my cousin, yes. How do you know her? Are you friends with those brats?” You huffed in laughter at his tone. Brats wasn’t a word you would use for your friend group, but you guessed since he was a bit older and, from what you heard, was annoyed all the time by them at work.

“We know each other from college, yeah. Since they had secured a job at Survey, I decided to follow by teaching here so we’d all live by each other. I met Eren first.” He lifted up an eyebrow and you could see a little trace of annoyance gloss over his face. It was very much an Isabel look, or rather, she’d gotten it from her father. Pretty much copy and paste.

“You met him first and wanted to meet the rest of them?” You rolled your eyes at that. You can see how Connie and Sasha got a bit wild, Eren and Jean a bit intense, but overall, they were great people to be friends with. Armin had helped you through a required science class, Historia and Mikasa stayed with you and bought you ice cream when your boyfriend had broken up with you, Connie and Sasha were the life of the party any hour of the day, and Jean and Eren, respectively, would provide you some stress relief and good times when you were down. No, they were the greatest people you’d met.

“They’re my best friends, Levi. I love all of them.” The annoyed look still didn’t leave his face and he crossed his arms. Was he really going to argue with you about your friend group? If he did, you would definitely text the group chat to make his next work week a living hell for revenge.

“You don’t seem to be like them. Maybe Historia, but still, I wouldn’t peg you to be with that group.” You turned back around, seeing the children starting to walk over to the snack tables. Soon, once they were done with their lunch, they would descend on the cupcakes you were guarding and destroy the orderly table. You had to tape down the cheap plastic tablecloth, so it stood a chance.

“What do I seem like then? They’ve told me about you, you know. I couldn’t believe what they were telling me.” You grabbed the tape, ducking under the table do you couldn’t see his expression. However, his legs moved as he turned to face where you once were.

“Much more professional and put together than them. Maybe Armin is okay, but the others, I had to teach them how to write a formal email.”

“Well, you’ve never seen me outside of a school setting. Arguably, you know all of them more than you know me. If I had to compare myself to any of them it would be a mix between Armin and Jean. When we all go out, it seems to be like that. I can see, though, how they’d be a bit tough to handle at work.”

“Well, then why don’t we meet outside of school?” Your breath had to have stopped, but his face was completely serious. Did he just ask you on a date? Right in front of the kindergarten cupcake table?

“Miss. (Y/L/N)! Can we have a cupcake now?” Two or three of your students gathered at your leg, and you looked down at them, probably with your eyes still wide. You then looked back to Levi who was giving the children a very annoyed stare, before stepping back from the table so they had full access.

“U-Um, what did you – Cupcakes! Yes, El, you can have one cupcake each. What color do you want?” You went to hand them the specific colors you wanted, and you thought that your business would make Levi go somewhere else, but he was there staring at you while you handed them out. His gaze was unwavering as he leaned up against the basketball net’s pole. Even when Isabel came to stand next to his legs, he didn’t look down at her. You knew he was waiting for an answer and you were having an internal crisis.

You didn’t think you’d get this far, actually, no you never thought this would happen. It was going to be the one parent-teacher meeting, then you’d never see him again and only complain to Mikasa and Historia about how you let him get away. Now, he literally just came out with it. Was this his whole intention of coming today? Your stomach did flipflops because of that. But now, you were thinking of how unprofessional it would look if you two did start something. You would be offender number one for the PTA moms and it was only your first year teaching. Then, on the other hand, the school year was almost over, and you would soon not be Isabel’s teacher and you and he were both single. And he was very good looking. And he was good with kids. And you did like him a bit, only having talked to him for thirty minutes. Still, what could fully develop if you took up his offer?

“Can I please have all the parents and their children gather?” You turned your neck to look at the principal who had yelled that through a blowhorn. He was standing on the makeshift stage in front of the school, probably going to give the day ending speech before dismissing the children with their participation medals for the games we played. You would have time to ask your crisis hotline and you were thankful that Isabel so eagerly pulled her father towards the front of the school. You still couldn’t shake his gaze, him looking over his shoulder at you while you tried to hide your blush.

Once you were alone on the basketball field, you used your watch to send a text to you, Historia, Mikasa, and Sasha’s group chat.. You knew whatever they were doing, they would take the chance to slack off. It also had to be important if you were texting during the school day.

From Mi: What are you texting us for?

From Mrs. Potato Head: Yes, aren’t you at school?

From (Y/F/N): Okay, well a situation has occurred, and I need quick guidance. I only have like two minutes

From My Queen: We can help!

From (Y/F/N): Thank you, Historia. I know I can count on you.

From Mrs. Potato Head: Just get on with it! I didn’t eat lunch today and I’m starving!

From (Y/F/N): Ok, ok, ok!

You glanced over at the parents and there he was, staring at you while holding Isabel’s hand.

From (Y/F/N): Oh god, I can’t believe I’m even saying this to you guys. I think Levi asked me on a date!

From Mrs. Potato Head: OUR BOSS LEVI ACKERMAN?!

From My Queen: You sound like a sixteen-year-old, (Y/F/N)! Of course, he would ask you out, who wouldn’t?

From Mi: So, what are you asking us? It’s a yes isn’t it?

From Mrs. Potato Head: Yeah, by the way you were talking about him at the bar last week, it has to be a yes

From Mi: If you two get married, we’ll be cousins

From (Y/F/N): Stop that! I don’t know if I should! I’m his daughter’s teacher and I barely know him

The principal was on his ending notes, and you could tell that Isabel was going to race up to you before saying goodbye. She always did. At the end of the day, you would take he to the bus with the other kids, and she would have to run her homework by you, tell you one or two random things, and then get yelled at before she would go on the bus.

From My Queen: Isn’t that why you go on dates with people or am I mistaken? Mikasa, is your cousin a serial killer?

From Mi: No, Historia, I don’t think he is. I think you should do it, (Y/F/N). Even if it’s kinda weird I’m setting you up with my cousin

You rolled her eyes at her remarks and the clapping notified you that in about thirty seconds a little raven-haired girl was going to be at your feet.

From (Y/F/N): Don’t tell the guys about this please. Not unless the date goes well, okay?

From Mrs. Potato: Oh, so you’re accepting! That’s mad crazy. My best friend and my boss. I’m going to tell Connie

From Mrs. Potato Head: Oh, wait, shit sorry. Nevermind

You groaned and knew that your request would fall on deaf ears. Soon you’d have Jean and Eren at your heels telling you that you shouldn’t go out with anyone but either one of them.

“Miss. (Y/L/N)!” Isabel started her bounding run towards you, and you could see Levi starting to walk in that same direction, his eyes never having left your figure. Jesus, this man’s gaze was so intense.

From (Y/F/N): We’re talking more later

You put your phone away, turning around to face Isabel with a big smile hiding how nervous you were in her father’s presence. Everything wrong was going through your mind. What if he didn’t mean a date? What if he thinks you’re too young for him? What happens when the date goes terribly that you end up hating him?

“Miss. (Y/L/N), I got a medal from the principal, look!” She held up the participation medal that all the children got. Something about everyone deserving to win something. You were falling asleep during that meeting.

“That’s great, Isabel! You can hang it on the fridge, yeah?” You could see his eyes spark when you said that. He smirked, too, finding it funny that you knew about their fridge, completely covered with Isabel’s drawings, report cards, and various other trinkets. Perhaps it was even a bit heartwarming to him.

“Is, can you go get your backpack from the classroom? Daddy needs to talk about you to Miss. (Y/L/N.” The little girl just lifted her head up, almost falling over to look back at Levi.

“But Daddy, I’m not done talking to Miss. (Y/L/N)!” One second of annoyance reappeared on his face before urging her to go do it again. This time, with a pout, she walked inside with the rest of her classmates to go get ready to leave.

“So, how does Saturday sound?” He was really direct, and you’d guess it was his age or the fact that you haven’t dated anyone other than college frat boys in their early twenties. You looked back at him, remembering what the girls said. They wanted you to go on it and you, yeah, you definitely wanted to go on it too.

“At seven?” You suggested and you swear you saw a smile break across his face before he dropped it to nod. That made the butterflies come back again.

“Seven, yeah. I’ll get your address from Mikasa.”

Saturday, 3:57 AM

“I couldn’t believe he posted that either! When Mikasa showed me that, I thought he was for sure getting fired,” my hands moved with my words as I explained to Levi about Eren’s awful thirst trapping social media posts. While I was doing this, he gripped my shoulder with the hand shrugged around me, trying to steer me in the right direction. Granted, I was also probably a little tipsy from the alcohol we consumed at the second bar. It was cheaper and fruitier, so I obliged, and Levi seemed to find it amusing.

“Oh, he definitely got reprimanded. It took everything in me not to kick him. Erwin is usually away, so I’m the one who has to deal with everything. One time they started, oh what are those things called, the pictures that are supposed to be funny?” He was gesturing with the hand next to my ear, trying to get me to fill in the blank.

“Memes? I knew you were old, but not this old, Lev.” He rolled his eyes at you, ignoring your insult and continuing with his story.

“They started a Meme fight in the company group chat even though I clearly laid out the rules to them. Apparently, their explanation was that if they got everyone to do it, I couldn’t punish everyone in the office.” I smiled up at him and grabbed loosely at his fingers, trying to hold his hand, but not really. I ended up just playing with them as we walked up to my apartment building.

“So, you punished everyone twice, yeah?” He smirked as we stopped outside the doorway of my building.

“Three times.” This made you both giggle like children, and you were sure the alcohol, the third round of drinks, was starting to have an affect on you both again. You’d make sure he’d call a cab to get back.

“I can walk you up to your door?” He suggested and your eyes widened, shaking your hands in front of you. He couldn’t know that Historia, Mikasa, and Sasha were on a stake-out at your apartment. It was something you all did when the other would go on a date with a new person. It was to make sure that they got home right and that they had someone to immediately rant, cry, or laugh with depending on how the date went. Last time, you, Mikasa, and Sasha almost went to egg a guy’s house that made Historia cry. However, this stake-out was going to be very different.

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine. I’m actually against gender norms. If anything, I should walk you home.” He raised an eyebrow, taking his arm off my shoulder. He wore the same suit had had during the parent-teacher conference and you made sure to comment on how hot you thought he looked back then. Rolled up sleeves, buttons undone, and now, tousled hair courtesy of you. It was a very good look.

“You wouldn’t want your kindergartener seeing you drunk.” You hit his chest after that comment, knowing you weren’t completely intoxicated. You could get up to your house, take off your makeup, and have a very productive conversation about how he had treated you to ice cream halfway through your bar hopping session.

“I’m not drunk, just happy. Tonight was really fun.” He smiled at you and nodded in agreement.

“Let’s do it again? And again? You up for it?” You matched his smile and grabbed his hand.

“Of course I am. This was probably the best date I’ve ever had, Levi.” You saw the blush paint his cheeks as he went to scratch the back of his neck.

“Me too, (Y/L/N). Me too.” You sent him off in a taxi, a single kiss on his cheek that left a smirk on his face. You stood there for a while too, letting the cool spring wind blow over your bare legs. Yeah, that was a few hours of heaven. Your heart warmed as you went up in the elevator, replaying the events in your head over and over again. You were sad it had to end, but it was almost four in the morning and you’d exhausted all open sit-down bars.

When you got inside your apartment, you saw them all sleeping on the couch besides Mikasa who locked very annoyed eyes with you. You just smiled and slid down the door, sitting on the floor.

“Oh god,” Mikasa groaned, seeing your lovesick face. She never though she’d meet someone who’d act like this for her cousin, must less one of her best friends. Sasha and Historia woke up, rubbing their eyes to look at the time. You wondered when they fell asleep.

“Why are you back so late?” Sasha mumbled, seeing the clock hit four in front of her eyes. At least you left her a stocked fridge. Historia was the first of the two to be wide awake, seeing your face clearly. She almost jumped up from the couch and ran over to you on the floor. You smile was still plastered over your face, thinking about Levi.

“How was it? How was it!?” Sasha covered her ears at Historia’s yells. She would care in the morning when she was awake. For now, she just looked at you as you stared Historia right in the eyes and said those bone crushing words.

“Historia, I think I’m in love.”

“Love?!” Mikasa popped up, sounding so taken aback by that. No, she’d never, ever bet on someone liking, much less falling in love with her cousin. What had he done to you? She rested her head on the back of the couch, looking over to you. Historia grabbed your hand hard, excited for you.

“No way! Are you sure? How do you know? What did you two do for some long? Huh! You didn’t!” You shook your head, knowing what she was thinking. No, he was a gentleman the whole night with you, even if you did exchange a few buzzed kisses here and there on the fake leather couches of a swanky bar downtown.

“We went for dinner first at a hibachi place. We talked for hours and hours, I couldn’t tell you how long. It was just, I could’ve sit and talked to him in that uncomfortable chair for hours. We just walked about everything. Our lives, Isabel, how I became a teacher, you guys; it was just so refreshing. Then, when the hibachi place closed, he said he didn’t want to end it there, and so he took me to this high-end bar, and I had an overpriced martini and we talked and talked some more. I just couldn’t run out of topics, Historia. Maybe it was because I drank so much, but still, I was buzzing the whole time around him. Then when that bar closed, we went to ours, the one we go to, and I drank more. He did too. I guess the alcohol just opened us up. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to someone for that long about absolutely nothing. Even on the way back, we walked by the river, it was so pretty and there were almost no people. Just a little slice of heaven. I’m sad it had to end, but he asked if I wanted to do it again, and again. He’s just so nice and gentlemanly and funny and handsome and cute and-“ Sasha cut you off with her hand. She couldn’t stand someone talking about her boss like that. If she kept listening to you, she would definitely say something at work and she was too afraid of what Levi would do to her.

“Guys, she’s completely whipped for our boss.” You smiled up at her, acknowledging that fact. Being with Levi just felt so good. Your heart was light and your head was buzzing around. Every time he leaned over to kiss you, you had butterflies in your stomach like some little girl. You even went into the date telling yourself you’d have to act more upright than you really are, but that went out the window when the hibachi chef squirted Levi in the eye with water and you couldn’t handle it. You were just so comfortable around him, it was hard to be professional and upright. He did tell you that you were correct, you were different outside of school, but he loved it.

“He told me that my personality came out tenfold when I was outside of school grounds. He said he liked it a lot and thought I was cute.” You were wringing your hands together, the feeling hitting your toes. God, you never had a man make you feel like this. All of the fairytale books you read the kids now made complete sense. Even Sasha’s gagging sound didn’t take you out of that trance.

“You look so head-over-heals, (Y/F/N),” Historia said, laughing next to you while looking at your eyes. She took, well, they all had never seen you like this around a man you went on a date or one-night stand with. Not Jean, Eren, the one guy you dated in college, or the one right after graduation; none of them made you look like this. It almost made Mikasa sick looking at how lovestruck you were on the floor. All for Levi.

Five Months Later

From Captain <3: I venomed you for the pizza last night. You should use it to bring me a bubble tea from that shop we went to last week

From my little teach: I’m in a meeting, but in like an hour, sure.

From Captain <3: I never understood how you seem busier on summer vacation than you did during the school year

From my little teach: Not my fault you chose to date a teacher, at least I’m always free at night

From Captain <3: Then you have to leave early in the morning and the bed gets cold

From Captain <3: You know I’m anemic ☹

“Miss. (Y/L/N), do you find something funny about the change in our core curriculum?” Your eyes looked up to the fifth-grade teacher presenting and smiled to try and hide your embarrassment.

“No, Mrs. Warnas, I was just thinking about the unique drawings I’m going to get from my kindergarteners once we introduce them to storyboarding.” That seemed to satisfy her enough to turn back around and smile to herself at my compliment. I’m glad that was in my head still, because I didn’t want to get caught in front of all the teachers. They already knew I was in a relationship with a past parent, so them catching me texting like a high schooler in class would be mortifying.

From my little teach: You just got me in trouble

From Captain <3: I’m texting you in a meeting too

From Captain <3: You’re just bad at being sneaky

When you showed up at the office, two bubble teas in hand, you were greeted first by Connie who wanted one.

“Pleaseeeeee, I’ve been working so hard today!” You moved the drinks away from his grabby hands and glared at him. You knew that if Sasha came over too, you’d have to guard these drinks with your life.

“They aren’t for you, Con. I’ll buy you one another time.” He whined again and Jean’s head popped up from over a cubical, one arm resting on the edge.

“Jeez, (Y/F/N). Isn’t this the third time this week you came here? I don’t remember you ever visiting us this much before you started dating our boss.” You stuck your tongue out at him and took a sip of your tea to rub it in his face.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t land me. You had so many chances, yet it slipped through your fingers. You and Eren both.” His eyebrow quirked up, smirk breaking over his face. He was going to say something either sexual or annoying.

“I mean, if you want to talk about my finge-“

“What did you say, Kirstein?” Jean dropped his head, mumbling something, and sitting back in his chair. You turned around, locking eyes with Levi who was in the doorway of his office. His face was one you had gotten used to over the few months of visiting him at work. In this building, he was constantly on edge and it showed all over his face. His gaze was harsh, non-smiling, and always laced with annoyance or sleepiness. His words were the same way. Even the tone he took with Jean was the complete opposite of the one he talked to you or Isabel in.

“If I have to hear about Jean or Eren’s college relations with you one more time, I’ll fire both of them. I swear, I thought it would calm down, but almost everyday they have to say something and giggle to each other like fucking school children. Did you get the brown sugar boba?” You handed him his cup, sitting in the chair opposite his. He looked cute sipping on the boba while in his professional setting. The only time he wore his suit jacket was at work, but as he walked out of that door after clocking out, it was the first thing to come off.

“Bad day? You only ask for extra sugar when you’re feeling bad.” He huffed once in agreement with his bad day, taking another big sip and running a hand through his hair.

“A deal with a Japanese company we thought would be easy is toying with us and since Erwin’s out of town, it falls on Hange and I. I’ll probably have to take stuff home tonight and work.” You frowned, putting down your cup on his desk and leaning forward. He’d been stressed recently about work, which culminated in him needing daily visits to his office for you to calm him down. Pretty soon, he’d lock the door, making sure the blinds are all pulled, and have you sit on his lap to calm him down.

“I can take Isabel to mine if you need to concentrate tonight. We still have a few Barbie movies to watch.” That made him smile, but he shook his head, looking down at the papers sprawled all over his desk.

Isabel had been very quick to accept the fact that her teacher and father were dating, and she probably happier than either of you. You both told her after school ended so she didn’t start something with the PTA moms, but it was your carelessness that caused all of them to find out over an email thread. Isabel, however, didn’t care that Ryan would make fun of her for having “Miss. (Y/L/N) as a mommy” because there was finally someone in her like that would play princesses with her that would fit the role. You asked Levi if, before you came, he was forced by the seven-year-old to wear a crown and fake earrings, but he refused to answer. It was also very easy to transition your relationship with Isabel from teacher to, basically, co-caretaker since she already saw you as such. When you told her she could call you your first name, she went crazy being able to call an adult by their first name. Now, she’d gotten more and more comfortable with you over the summer and just recently was able to finally see you as Daddy’s girlfriend and not Miss. (Y/L/N). Soon enough, she was falling asleep with you on the couch or your bed when you babysat her, and had just mistakenly called you mommy a day or two ago.

Levi and you had talked about that situation happening before, so you were prepared to sit her down and tell her that you weren’t her mommy yet, so you’d have to make up an easier nickname to call you. Both you and Levi were pretty sure that you were the person for each other, so there was no reason to forbid her from calling you that. Actually, it was during a post-steamy cuddle session that he’d brought it up.

“I can’t see myself being with anyone else. I know it’s early to say that. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I feel the same. No one I’ve been with has made me feel like you do, Levi.”

“M-me, too.”

“I was going to ask you to come over tonight anyways. Mikasa offered to babysit Isabel over the weekend.” He trailed off on the last word, trying to suggest that we had three open days without a little girl trying to sleep in between us at night. Of course you’d go over.

“I guess I can come. You’ll just have to help me test out some kindergarten activities for the new core curriculum. School starts again next week.” He groaned, more work, but agreed to do it. How hard could it be? It was just cutting and coloring and he did that with Isabel on a daily.

“Mikasa and I are going to watch the Twelve Dancing Princesses tonight. I know you wanted to watch it with me, (Y/F/N),” she said lowering her head onto your chest as you laid on the couch. You laughed and ruffled her hair that you’d just combed out for Levi. He was still in his home office running over papers and making phone calls. Your job was to get Isabel ready and packed to go to Mikasa’s, but she was running late, so you decided to watch videos on your phone till she got there.

“That’s okay, Bel. I’ve seen it before. That means when you come back over, you can watch the Princess and the Pauper with me.” The little girl smiled, which was followed by a yawn as she watched some toy opening video on YouTube.

“Can we sing like last time?” You laughed a bit, so you didn’t disturb her tired form, slowly slipping into a nap as she laid on you. Apparently, Levi let her stay up last night, forgetting that this little girl won’t tear her eyes away from the television until you force her too. He had gone back to do some work and when he emerged at two in the morning, there she was struggling to keep her eyes open. So much for trying to get her back into a school sleep schedule. You were no better though, going to bed at three last night because you waited last minute to start writing lesson plans. This made you yawn along with her and close your eyes.

“Yes, we can sing like we did with Frozen.” She hummed a bit, snuggling again against your chest as she decided it was time to take a nap. You quickly agreed with that idea.

Knocking on the door broke Levi from looking at the figures for the latest project and he leaned out of his office to see both you and Isabel sleeping on the couch. He smiled to himself, heart singing at the view, and went to open the door for his cousin.

“Where’s she at?” He frowned at Mikasa, moving so she could walk in and see you two sleeping on the couch. Levi didn’t want to move you two, and in actuality he wanted to add another picture to the album on his phone, but it would be way too embarrassing to do in front of Mikasa. Mikasa on the other hand had put a pizza in the oven and was ready to go. Levi grabbed her arm to stop her from shaking you two awake.

“Let them sleep. They both stayed up late.” She rolled her eyes at Levi and he responded with an even more annoyed eye roll. Couldn’t she calm down for a few minutes?

“They get five more minutes of beauty sleep.”

“How gracious.” He stood there, arms crossed, looking over at the two who had no idea Mikasa walked in the door. You had one hand over Isabel’s head and the other hanging of the couch, gripping a phone still playing some YouTube video in the background. Isabel had her small hand touching your cheek, head buried in your chest as she snored soundly on her favorite bed. When Mikasa looked over at her cousin, she thought she was going to be sick. It was the same look you had coming back from you two’s first date and one she’d seen on your face when you bounced into their office. She’s gotten used to you, but this was the first time she saw Levi like that. She snorted at him and he dropped it, morphing back into his normal, harsh glare.

“Never thought you’d be so wrapped around (Y/F/N)’s finger.” Levi scoffed at her, making sure it wasn’t loud enough to wake you two.

“I’m just admiring my girlfriend and kid; can I not do that, brat?” Mikasa laughed a bit at him trying to hide his embarrassment with another insult. He did the same when she walked in on you two making out in his office, having forgotten to lock the door.

“You can, just not with my best friend. Makes me sick.” Levi felt like his eyes were going to roll out of his head. Once you two started dating, that whole friend group had been insufferable to him. Eren and Jean talking about all their college flings with you, Connie and Sasha always bursting out laughing for no reason, and Mikasa made fun of him for showing emotion. The only one he still liked was Armin who inquired about your class activities as school and the other kids besides Isabel.

��When are you going to marry her?” Levi was taken aback by that question, but Mikasa was completely cool. It sounded so natural coming from her lips that Levi couldn’t help but actually answer back. It wasn’t a surprise to Mikasa when he told her his intentions. From the day you came back from your first date, she knew you’d probably become her cousin in less than a year.

“Haven’t planned out anything, but I have a ring.” She laughed at him again, this time adding a tad bit of happiness into it. Yeah, she was okay with Levi and you, but she didn’t know how the others would take the news. Eren and Jean would be distressed, Historia and Sasha ecstatic, and Connie and Armin probably neutrally happy. She’d probably have to pull Eren “that should’ve been me” Jaeger and Jean “if only she gave me a shot” Kiersten home from some random bar.

“Did you tell Isabel?” Levi nodded, remembering the conversation he had to have with her about keeping very, very important secrets. He even said that if Isabel told you, he would cry, which made it seem very serious to Isabel.

“She helped me pick it. Something about knowing what plastic rings (Y/F/N) liked. She slipped up this week though and called (Y/F/N) mommy. I had to bust my ass to cover that up.” This made Mikasa actually smile. Her best friend would be a great mom, but she didn’t want to think about it. You weren’t the first person she thought was going to get married in their group. Probably Historia, or Armin and his girlfriend, not you, the girl that fell into the Education major who partied all the time stereotype.

“You’re marrying someone crazy; I hope you know that. By day, she’s a wonderful kindergarten teacher who all her students and parents love, and by night, she’s on top of some table in the club singing to Abba.” Levi grit his teeth, remembering clearly the first time he was forced out with you and the brats. Eren challenged you to a drinking contest and you stupidly accepted, which made it Levi’s job to drag you home and nurse a hangover the next day. It didn’t help that the next day you had another Teacher’s Institute meeting and complained to him that everyone there knew you were hungover. Those were some giant hoops Levi had to jump through to explain to Isabel why you were “sick”.

“Who do you think is the one getting her down and waking her up for school the next day?” Not caring anymore about saving face with Mikasa, he took his phone out, taking a picture of his two girls. Staring down at you holding his daughter, his heart swelled even more. You were going to be a great mom to Isabel, even if you told Levi that you weren’t made for it. Levi thought the same thing when he held Isabel for the first time, alone and abandoned. He reassured you, saying that Isabel has never had a mom in the first place, but you were still worried.

You don’t have to be worried, he thought watching Mikasa kick you awake, you’re perfect. His perfect little teacher.

“Five minutes is up. Time to come to Aunty Mikasa’s so you won’t end up in therapy later in life for childhood trauma!”

xx Perhaps I got a LITTLE carried away, i hope you like it though! It’s a bit less cute than originally planned

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman scenario #attack on titan levi #shingeki no kyoujin levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #dadlevi #modernau #aot x reader #aot x y/n

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