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wnnbdarklord · 3 years

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EDIT: so I started writing this like a week ago, but honestly the finale killed any desire in me to interact with this show in a fannish way. So have these half assed notes. I think it's obvious where I lost steam. These ideas are free for use for anyone who wants them in fic, have at you. As it is, I don't think I'll interact with this show as a fan any further than this.

How I would write a Loki show in bullet points (and a mishmash of short scenes and dialogue, let's be honest) for my sanity!

Presuming some disney exec came down from on high and forced the inclusion of EG!Loki and the TVA (because otherwise it'd be IW!Loki that survived and it'd be all about him finding his best life away from Earth, Asgard, Thor and the whole Thanos/EG situation. Or if I only had to include the TVA, it'd be IW!Loki dealing with the TVA, not EG!Loki):

Fair warning: this will likely be a mess since I'm not entirely motivated to not have it be so.

[cut for length]

Ep1:

- Loki escapes to Nidavelir and uses the tools there to get rid of the chains and muzzle. A CONTROLLED use of the Tesseract, thankyouverymuch

- the TVA comes for him and Loki is wary and on the alert, exhausted from the whole Avengers thing so he immediately makes a clone to interact with the TVA and observes from afar

- the TVA fall for it when they try to bitchslap him like in the show, but immediately regroup when it goes through the illusion and start a search pattern. Their tech can scan for his temporal aura and they close in on Loki quickly (show the TVA as at least somewhat competent or they're shit antagonists for Loki)

- Loki, who still has hold of the Tesseract, portals out of there

- what follows is a quick chase scene across multiple planets and realms, but the TVA are always on his heels. The longest time they take to find him is during an ongoing apocalypse on a random planet that's enough for Loki to get a quick breather. but you know, disaster's on the horizon, so he has to leave eventually. but this is the first clue both we as an audience and Loki get about potential hiding places.

- when an exhausted Loki finally turns to fight, he manages to take several minutemen out (justifying B-15's hate on for him) before one of them gets in a lucky shot and freezes him

- "Who are you people?" [short flash of Loki's eyes flashing green and the entire scene getting a strange cast, floating energy swirling around everything. It's beautiful, but the TVA people's energy is out of sync, out of touch and strangely jagged compared to their surroundings]

- they slap the collar on him and march him into the TVA

- Loki immediately tries to pull the same illusion trick but it doesn't work cause no magic in the TVA (maybe some visual indication of what he's trying to do, but it doesn't go past his skin. You know, like Sylvie managed in ep 3 -.-)

- he doesn't wildly panic, but we see his breathing speed up and he immediately looks at his left hand and relaxes when he sees it isn't turning blue.

- okay so the TVA have caught him, he's on their shit list, no magic, exhausted, no idea what's going on, who these people are or how powerful they are - he chooses to play nice for now and bide his time

- the whole intake process is spent in quiet observation mode, only speaking when spoken to

- discomfort at being out of his clothes, but maybe only a wry joke about them wanting to strip him naked (making him a participant in all the thirst jokes)

- he doesn't ask if a lot of people don't know they're robots like a child wanting validation and he's not visibly afraid. Instead, we see him look at his hand again and try for wry humor when asking. But he steps into the device without much hesitation. It's death vs certainty and we already know he's chosen death once before.

- the propaganda cartoon is much shorter and plays in the background so we can see Loki's incredulous eyebrow raise at it. the ticket thing gets an eyeroll, but ready compliance since it's not worth it to argue

- when he sees the other guy get "pruned", he immediately reaches for the ticket to reassure himself it's there, but doesn't wave it around triumphantly, just sighs in relief

- trial can stay mostly unchanged, just no stupid magic attempt in the middle

"It's not your story, Mr. Laufeyson, it never was" (AND THIS SHALL BE PROVEN FALSE, you know, unlike in the show where it turned out to be their fucking mission statement) also, Loki gives her murder eyes for calling him that

- in fact, instead of trying magic, Loki holds up the controller he stole from B-15 as she was escorting him to the trial and waves as he disappears through a door backwards

After that scene is the church scene with bodies, establishing Mobius as a hunter of dangerous variants. Someone is killing TVA officers

Mobius gets called back as in canon, but arrives too late to stop our Loki from leaving

Sidenote: Loki still has the tesseract since it was in his pocket dimension during the fight the TVA nabbed him in

Ep 2:

- it's now a few days/weeks later. Loki is back in his own clothes, a simpler outfit not geared for war. He's in the biggest library in the universe, the depository of almost all knowledge, looking for information about the TVA. there is Nothing, suspiciously so

- once again, the TVA shows up and he has to run yet again. maybe he kills this team too, to buy himself more time. he steals a melt stick and more time pads and reset charges

- he needs more information and the only place he'll get it is at the TVA it seems, so he shapeshifts into his female form, dressed as one of the many paperpushers at the TVA and we see her being relieved that the spelled clothing is holding once she passes through the time door

(another aside, but ideally the female form is more like Eva Green or Katie McGrath. AND NOT BLONDE)

- acting like she belongs, Loki effortlessly manages to snoop around the TVA for a few hours

- there's only one close call with C-20, but Loki manages to deflect suspicion by parroting the motto at her, which Loki reads from a nearby propaganda poster (cause Loki is good at lying, manipulation and flying by the seat of their pants)

- eventually, she ends up at the archive area and begins researching. We see that Loki is competent at this and is quick to pick up the filing system. the variant number from the papers she signed the episode before becomes relevant to finding the appropriate files

- before she can dig too deep into her own life story as laid out by these people, just as she finds the Ragnarok Report, Mobius finds her (maybe there was a silent alarm triggered by unauthorized access or something. Slightly more competent TVA)

- there is a scene where Mobius and Loki play a game of chicken and manipulation, wordplay and lying until it becomes clear Mobius knows who Loki is (actually establishing some camaraderie)

- Loki gets a little hoisted by their own petard since they're enjoying the banter so much, the backup Mobius called for catches them a little off guard, collared again

- since info gathering is still the name of the game, Loki doesn't try to get away just yet

(during this entire scene, Mobius is the same offhandedly condescending prick he is in canon, but it's very obviously framed that way)

(also featuring confirmation of the genderfluidity thing because fuck you disney)

M: "Nice disguise. Really had me fooled for a second there."

L: "It's hardly a disguise. I am always myself."

[Loki shifts back to male, though the clothes remain the same (shifting =/= magic)]

M: "Yeah, well, next time you want to go undercover at the TVA, maybe don't choose a face we already have from several other of your variants."

[Loki twitches a little, since that wasn't a form he openly wore a lot (even when he wanted to) cause Asgard is a dick about shifting genders]

L: "And how does that work exactly?"

M: "Got your entire life on file, buddy. But you know, sometimes Asgard isn't a complete stick in the mud the day you gather enough courage to show up to dinner in a dress. We usually have to prune those timelines quickly."

[Loki's grin is more like a snarl, frozen on his face, since he picks up the implications loud and clear (the implication being that him being too happy is not allowed in the Sacred Timeline)]

M: [picks up the files Loki was looking at] "Come on, I've got something to show you."

-cue time theater scene

-that little scene of looking out at the TVA does not feature Loki being impressed or awed at the TVA's tech. It features him being scared/uneasy because the TVA is completely dead to his senses. Loki's eyes do the same flash as before, but everything is completely dull, no energy anywhere. He can barely see some swirls on his own arms]

-Loki asks why this charade, Mobius tells him the TVA is willing to come to an agreement with Loki for his help

"You're not the only one running around messing up the Sacred Timeline. Come on, job interview time."

(it's really really not)

- Mobius tries the same schtick as before, but it's both less and more effective. Less cause Loki has had a bit more time to collect himself since the invasion, more cause he's more aware of the TVA's power and has been chased by them for a while now

- we see Loki being affected by the Frigga thing BUT he also picks up how edited the reel is

- still, he lets Mobius do the "only thing you're good for" bit until we see him look up with murder in his eyes, even through the tears

- "I am going to burn this place to the ground and I am going to start with you. That is my bargain."

"Yeah, cause your "bargains" [Mobius full on air quotes here] work out so well for you," he says, offering Loki a hand up

-cue alarm and Mobius rushing out

-Loki grabs the files Mobius left behind, and also the tape in the hologram projector and escapes

- no infinity stones scene, cause Loki still has the Tesseract and doesn't go to look for more

- cut to the TVA running around in a panic, multiple branches forming on the displays. It's the same bombing plot as in the show, but now serving as a distraction for Loki to get away

- when they figure this out, Ravonna: "You should have just pruned him when you found him. There's a reason we don't reset Loki variants. Our luck always runs out eventually with them. Fix this, Mobius. Or you'll have to answer to the TimeKeepers."

- back to Loki, he steps out into chaos as something explodes behind him. He's in another apocalypse. During his running from the TVA, he noticed it takes them longer to find him whenever there's a lot of chaos around him, death and destruction. He finds a still intact building, seems high tech. Everyone else has already evacuated

- he takes the Tesseract out and blue and green energy surges around him and engulfs the building. It's suddenly quiet and we see outside the windows are pitch black

- Loki quickly looks away

"Finally, some peace and quiet."

He slumps down to the floor, files scattered around him, tesseract nearby and curls up, dejected and exhausted

Side note: Loki doesn't need to worry about recharging tempads since he has the tesseract, which was established in Avengers as able to provide infinite energy

Ep 3:

- he finds out about the variants in this episode, maybe goes looking for other variants before the TVA finds them

-how Loki finds out the TVA are all variants: he'd knocked out B-15 for a bit to interrogate her

-they're found by another team of minutemen, led by B-16, who is wearing B-15's face. Several of the other minutemen we've seen Loki kill in earlier episodes as well. They attack *both* of them cause they assume B-15 is compromised. Loki and B-15 work together and kill the whole lot, staring at each other incredulously

"You're Variants! You're all Variants!"

[B-15 collapses to her knees in shock]

End episode

EDIT: My basic idea for episodes 4 & 5 were Loki and B-15 working together and travelling through various timelines trying to get to the TimeKeepers, but realizing something was wrong the further they went. Time begins breaking down, paradoxes are all over the place and the TVA keeps pruning some specific place so much that sometimes two teams are on top of each other. Stuff like that.

I also had a few scenes where Loki meets other variants (that aren't him), but who actually like and even love him. Men, women, variations thereupon, and one or two who would mistake Loki for their Loki. So we get bi confirmation without actually including romance in the show itself, because 6 episodes isn't enough to develop that along with everything else that's going on.

Vaguely outlined here:

My "how to include the bi thing without the main story being a romance and also indicating that Loki is able to be liked and loved by people who aren't just variants of himself, please and thank you":

(note to self, rewrite this so it makes sense lol EDIT: lol, don't feel like it so this is all you get, folks!)

a variant significant other, male: kisses Loki

Loki: You are clearly my type, but I'm sorry. I'm not him.

[heartbroken expression on the variant]

from another timeline Loki visits:

woman holding a sword to his head after looking at him suspiciously: Change back!

Loki: Into who?!

woman: Her!

[Loki shapeshifts into his female self]

woman lets go of the sword

"You escaped! When Odin took you away, I thought he would kill you. Why did you never come back to me, my love?"

EDIT: My "twist" ending was that the Time Keepers were dead, not that they never existed. Some sort of mcguffin exists to just break the whole TVA and free the timelines. Idk, maybe the TVA was just a test to see if it'd work, but the system just kept perpetuating itself after the power hungry losers kept it going beyond the bounds of the experiment. Either way:

villain plot twist: the time keepers are long dead. the TVA is a terrible system that perpetuated itself on its own, only a few judges were aware that the timekeepers had ever died. The entire System Has To Go (lol like disney would ever go there)

The system is literally Killing the Universe, since the universe's natural state of being is a multiverse. But the system don't care, system don't give a shit. System only exists to perpetuate itself, system's survival is the most important, catastrophic universal failure need not apply

(this is way too on the nose for disney, but since this rewrite's motto is Fuck Disney, it shall stay)

EDIT: this was how I imagined the climax of the series.

Mobius or Ravonna (i never decided): "All the chaos, all the possibilities? How can you stand the uncertainty? How can you believe the world will be any better than it is now?"

Loki: "Because it has to be!" [smashy smashy TVA]

series ends with the timeline breaking free

we see various scenes of the variants in their former lives, happy

and AU scenes of the previous movies:

Loki gets pulled up on the bridge

Loki accepts Thor's offer during the Avengers

Loki gets up on Svartalfheim, bleeding heavily, but doesn't go to Asgard but to Thor

Loki tricks Thanos during IW

Loki as an Avenger

Loki as a kid

Loki as a girl

Loki on jotunheim, fully jotun

Loki on Asgard, jotun

faster and faster, all sorts of different AU scenes until the screen goes dark and we see our Loki, smirking

"But...well, those are stories for another time."

and he steps back into the shadows.

#loki series spoilers #loki series negativity #loki series #fanfic #sort of #loki #half assed rewrite #half assed meta #my stuff

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anarcho-smarmyism · 3 years

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How would prison abolition deal with murderers, serial killers, paedophiles, torturers,kkk members,neo-Nazis and terrorists? Some people are a legit danger and cannot be allowed to roam society.

So I didn’t answer this at the time, because the anon who sent it is almost definitely the racist troll sending me shit I’m not going to publish (so like uhhh bear that in mind lmao), but I’ve blocked them now and it’s been a few days, so hopefully they’ve fucked off by now. Plus, I’ve been thinking about this question a LOT since before I received it. It’s a question that I think most people have about the concept of prison abolition and reparative justice, and not everyone with these concerns is asking in bad faith. Besides which, with the recent attempted coup and the way it looks like people who participated are actually going to face legal consequences for it (which alone was somewhat surprising to me tbh), I’ve been seeing a lot of leftists discoursing over whether it’s morally okay and intellectually consistent to be happy about cops beating up, killing, and arresting KKK members and Neo-Nazis, so it is now actually topical! Under the cut due to long response~

So the first thing I want to point out, is that literally every single one of the groups of “legit dangers who cannot be allowed to roam society”, are already out there right now. In our current “justice” system, it’s common knowledge that monsters often get off on a technicality, or because they just have the money to throw lawyer after lawyer at the charges, or because they outright bribe someone, or countless other ways to get around the law. You can look on my own literal tumblr blog and watch me argue with grown ass adults who will bold faced admit to consuming child porn with half-assed excuses, and you’ll find more open pedophiles on sites like twitter, reddit, or 4chan, or porn sites where “teen” is usually one of the most popular categories. Besides which, have you ever looked at the average sentences for convicted rapists, wife beaters, or pedophiles, as compared with the sentences for getting caught selling drugs? In middle school I had to walk a mile or two to get to school through a neighborhood we’d been warned had a convicted pedophile in it, who had just been released after less than 15 years. In that same city, I heard a story about a woman shooting and killing her rapist, and prosecutors were discussing giving her the death penalty for it (she was bragging and laughing about it on video, it was definitely premeditated, but still). Have you ever looked at the statistics of how many rapists and abusers aren’t reported, or if they are reported aren’t prosecuted, or if they are are prosecuted with a slap on the wrist (remember Brock Turner????) Also I notice how you didn’t even mention domestic abusers or rapists in your list of people who need to be locked up lolololol shows where your priorities vis a vis “public safety are I’m sorry, but the system just does not work the way you think it does, the we are taught it does.

People who make this argument always act like the systems we have now are efficient and nigh on flawless when it comes to “not letting dangerous people roam society”, but it isn’t and it can’t be and it never will be. That very fact ought to be enough to shake your faith in the idea that society will become a nonstop Purge of indiscriminate violence if everyone who’s committed a sufficiently despicable act of violence isn’t locked up for the rest of their lives -but you might say, “okay, but those are flukes, the system still works because most of the people who are “a danger to society” are usually locked up.” I’m not completely sold that that’s even true (have you ever heard of the opportunities cops had to bring in serial killers and murderers, who just didn’t care enough to try? Jeffrey Dahmer is a good example of this), but I’ll assume it is to move on to my next point.

Even if we assumed that the system as we have it, worked flawlessly as designed, that doesn’t change the fact that a lot of the categories mentioned here are people that are actively running the very systems that this rhetoric is defending. It’s well-documented that American white supremacists of various stripes have infiltrated law enforcement and the military for the express purpose of not just “roaming free”, but getting to exert the power of the State over people of color. Cops and soldiers kill people all the time, and not only are they not penalized, they’re celebrated for it. Agents of the State fucking torture people all the time, and I don’t just mean Guantanamo Bay or war crimes by soldiers; cops have been caught on camera spraying protesters with pepper spray and beating them once they’ve already been handcuffed or while they’re chained to trees or whatever -not because they think they “need” to, because they want to, and they know they’ll get away with it. Cops also systematically torture people in prison with solitary confinement. Heads of state drop bombs on civilians for “politically motivated reasons”, they do all kinds of shit that would be called “terrorism” if anybody but a State did it; and people might disapprove, but they don’t (generally) claim that the politicians and generals who made that call are “a danger to society” that need to get life in prison. If you genuinely believe that whether these acts of violence are “legal” or not changes whether they’re okay, or that a person who engages in illegal violence is “dangerous” but people who engage in legal violence aren’t... I’m honestly not even going to try to refute that here lol, prison abolition is level 5 shit and you’re at level -1, study how authoritarianism in general works before trying to understand prison abolition (not trying to be a dick here, it’s what i would tell my younger self when I believed the same thing).

It simply does not hold up to rational scrutiny to believe that society will collapse into an orgy of violence and mayhem if we abolish prison (or that we’ll have to resort to medieval punishments instead??? lol funny take i remember from some racist troll or other over the years), when those dangers are already present (and in some cases widely celebrated as “heroes” and given the power to indiscriminately brutalize “acceptable targets” with the State’s monopoly on violence) under the current system.

The next thing people need to understand is that contrary to popular belief and despite how counterintuitive it sounds, even the brutality of our current prison system is not an effective deterrent to crime (linked a Guardian article that looks like it has some good info on this, but I recommend a book called Unfair: The New Science of Criminal Injustice by Adam Benforado for more information). Let me say that again: the threat of prison has been empirically shown to be INEFFECTIVE as a deterrent to crime. Do you really think that a serial killer or someone who wants to blow up a building full of people is going to be more likely to follow the law for fear of prison, than regular people doing regular people crimes like selling drugs or getting into drunk fights that go too far?

I don’t think anyone is actually willing to argue that prison “rehabilitates” anyone, or does anything besides make regular criminals into angrier, more antisocial, more desperate criminals with more criminal connections and less options for any kind of a legitimate living, so I’m just going to point out that having such a large prison population arguably creates more people who have shitty lives of poverty and are surrounded by people who are in and out of prison. It’s not like that “makes” anybody into a serial killer, but I feel like you’d have to willfully ignorant to act like it’s not a factor in increasing violent crime in affected community.

So, I’ve so far argued that prison is an ineffective solution to the problems it claims to exist in order to solve, and that in many cases, it actually makes the problems that lead to these sorts of dangerous people (”regular” murderers and the radicalization of Neo-Nazis and KKK members in particular, I think) becoming dangerous, or at least more dangerous, in the first place. What I haven’t done, is talk about what I believe is the real core of the issue when it comes to prison abolition: nobody wants to fucking peacefully rehabilitate these people. I am arguing for a system that would handle these people basically as gently as possible, with the goal of releasing them back into society eventually, and I still believe these things mostly intellectually, not emotionally. I don’t want the men who sexually assaulted me and/or my loved ones to get off scot free (they did, of course, but that’s beside the point), much less serial killers or Nazis, and I’m not about to get on my high horse about wanting revenge on people who’ve committed these kinds of atrocities. The reason I’m a prison abolitionist in spite of these feelings is that I do not believe the desire for revenge, for punishment for punishment’s own sake, is an impulse we should indulge when creating social and political infrastructures that have ultimate power over millions of lives. In the words of someone talking about abolishing the death penalty, the question isn’t “do they deserve to die”, the question is “do we deserve to kill”; and here, the question is not “does anyone deserve to be imprisoned in this system”, the question is “do we deserve to brutalize people in this way for virtually zero practical benefits to our society”. What any person “deserves” is a subjective moral and philosophical question, one that no conceivable human justice system could ever actually answer. We as a society need to build alternatives to prison (and police!) that can actually address these problems, actually prevent the conditions that create and enable monsters, and actually rehabilitate (to whatever extent that is possible) criminals -even the ones we, personally, despise. Any long-term incarceration that may end up being 100% required should be designed to reduce the suffering of the person in it, no matter how despicable of a person they are. Trying to solve “the problem of evil” instead of trying to create a more functional and just society is a fool’s errand that can only lead to more evil existing, in the end.

At the end of the day, the “irredeemable” people you listed off as justifications for the continuing existence of prison, are only a tiny fraction of the people in prison, even the ones with life sentences. A full understanding of the horror and oppression the prison industrial complex enacts on the people in it and their communities (and how the system is designed to make a profit off of human suffering and death) is something you’ll have to read some actual books about in order to acquire. However, I don’t think it’s controversial to say that any horror we as a society deem “acceptable” to do to the worst of the worst, will also be done to regular criminals, as well as to innocent people who are wrongly imprisoned. Any brutality you design with a serial killer in mind WILL eventually be a punishment for a petty thief or drug dealer or sex worker, or a person who didn’t commit the crime they were incarcerated for. Is it really worth it? Is it really, really worth all the misery and oppression prison causes, to satiate our sense of justice? I don’t believe that it is. I believe that we have a responsibility both to the incarcerated and to their communities to base our policies and institutions on actually solving these societal problems however we can, and leaving our “eye for an eye” mentality in the dark ages where it belongs.

If you are interested in prison abolition as a concept, I can recommend some good books on it. You also need to understand that concept of “reparative justice”, which I’ve alluded to here but not really explained because OH MY GOD THIS POST IS TOO LONG ALREADY. Short explanation of it is that it aims to repair the harm done by the crime and rehabilitate the criminal through through therapy and trying to get them to actually understand what they’ve done and empathize with who they’ve hurt, while also providing therapy and resources to the victim of the crime (when it’s something violent and the reparation can’t just be “give them their money back plus extra for damages” or something). The point is not to satiate anybody’s sense of justice or revenge, but to proactively try to solve the problem the crime has caused and prevent the offender from doing it again. It would need to work in conjunction with the abolition of police (and replacement with better infrastructure for the few things cops do that we actually need done) and various other social programs and measures to prevent the circumstances that lead to crime. This sounds like a long shot because it is, but just because it hasn’t been done on a wide scale before doesn’t mean it can’t be, and just because it will be difficult doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.

#prison #prison abolition #reparative justice #anarchist #anarchism #prison industrial complex #asks #anonymous

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years

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Let the Sunshine In - Prologue

It’s here! This is the prologue of the Jasonette fic I’ve been promising to celebrate my 100+ followers. I’m going to apologize in advance, this particular section is kind of angsty. I recently watched Under the Red Hood, and I’m in the middle of Violet Evergarden and I HAVE EMOTIONS.

***********************

Ladybug collapsed in an empty alleyway, her entire body screaming from the latest akuma attack. She desperately wanted to cry, but she couldn’t give Hawkmoth any reason to try to akumatize her. Besides, in this state, she might just agree to his demands.

She still had a few minutes before she transformed back, and in desperation, she flipped open her yo-yo. “I know the Justice League told me to stop ‘prank calling,’ but… I just need to feel like someone cares about this city. Please find me one person who is willing to help.”

Jason should have been at school, but after getting in a fight he’d made the executive decision that he was taking the rest of the day off. He knew Alfred was planning on cleaning the mansion that day, so he found himself loitering around the Batcave when a call came in.

He was already in costume for… training, so Jason just had to slap on his Robin mask before answering. “Hello?”

On the screen was the most beautiful girl that Jason had ever seen. She looked around his age, wearing a red-spotted suit and a matching domino mask. However, her mask didn’t obscure the clearest blue eyes that Jason had ever seen. They were entrancing, but also a bit broken, like him. She had seen too much, done too much.

“Hello?” she said in heavily accented English. “Who is this?”

“You’re calling a super-secure super computer, sweetcheeks. I believe that’s my line,” Robin said with an impish grin.

He immediately regretted his statement when the girl looked close to crying. “I-I’m Ladybug, one of Paris’s heroes.”

“But Paris doesn’t have--”

“Obviously we do have heroes,” the girl--Ladybug--snapped. “I’m not just a child pretending like the Justice League accused me of. Our heroes are real, and our villain is very real. Hawkmoth is getting better and more dangerous as time goes by. I don’t know how much more our city can handle.”

Jason straightened, somehow already sold on this girl’s story. “Do you have any photographs or footage of any of the events? I can talk to Batman about it--or at the very least irritate him until he listens.”

Ladybug’s eyes widened, a glimmer of hope lighting up her face. “Batman? That means you’re--”

She was cut off by a beeping noise that made her curse softly under her breath. “I have to go, but I’ll call again. Thank you for listening, Robin.”

“I’ll do what research I can, Ladybug. We’ll help you out,” Jason promised earnestly.

Marinette smiled, the first genuine smile she’d had for days, possibly longer. Probably since she had become the Guardian of the Miracle Box. “You really don’t know how much I needed someone to care, Robin. Thank you. Bug out.”

From then on, Ladybug fought with the knowledge and hope that people could and did care about her city. She called Robin on and off to plan how to convince the League that the situation in Paris was very real. He was brilliant, although it was obvious that everyone could see it except Robin himself. They even got to the point that Marinette would call them friends. There were a lot of things she couldn’t tell him and he couldn’t tell her, but they learned to ease one another’s burdens in whatever ways they could. Robin made her feel like Marinette could handle being the Guardian, and Ladybug made Jason feel like he was more than a street kid who couldn’t fill Dick Grayson’s shoes.

Things seemed to be looking up for Marinette on all accounts--schoolwork seemed easier, she had just the perfect number of commissions, and Lila had at least temporarily directed her attention elsewhere.

They had set aside a time to plan every week, but one week Jason didn’t answer right away. Marinette didn’t think anything of it at first, he was probably busy. But when she tried again, it wasn't Robin that answered, but Batman.

“How did you get this channel?” he demanded in a voice gruffer than Marinette thought was possible for a human being to produce. “Who are you?”

“L-Ladybug. I’m Ladybug, sir, and I was calling for Robin.”

At these words, the man’s face distorted into the embodiment of distrust and rage. “You think this is funny? Because I will--”

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked, dread curdling in her stomach. “Did something happen to Robin?”

She couldn’t see his eyes from behind the cowl, but Marinette knew Batman was glaring at her, the singularly most terrifying moment of her life. “Robin is dead, because that’s what happens when children try to play hero. Leave that kind of thing to the adults, little girl, unless you want to end up the same way.”

Robin is dead.

Those three words pounded through Marinette’s head like an inescapable drumbeat. At some point the yo-yo had fallen out of her hand, and Batman had hung up with the strict instructions never to call again.

The world felt fuzzy, not quite real to Marinette. In an unexpected moment of clarity, though, Marinette realized: strong emotions were coming. She knew she wouldn’t be able to deny Hawkmoth, not with the fresh grief coursing through her. Right now, even if it was just a short time, she needed to be able to feel.

Marinette swung herself through Paris’s streets faster than ever before, launching herself at her balcony with desperation. Her transformation timed out just as she landed, making it easier to slip on Kaalki’s glasses.

She had transformed with Kaalki once or twice before, and for some reason this kwami always made her feel a bit antsy. The second that the transformation settled, Marinette opened up a portal to the first place in her mind that was both out of Hawkmoth’s range, and secluded enough that she wouldn’t have to worry about being seen or heard.

It was too much, losing Master Fu and then Robin. They had been the only things keeping Marinette sane and grounded, and she couldn’t talk about them with anyone else. That combined with the pressure of being Ladybug made Marinette feel like she was going to explode. So she screamed, she screamed until her voice broke, dissolving into pathetic sobbing as she collapsed in on herself on the forest floor.

One by one, the kwamis emerged and surrounded her, concerned.

Tikki was the first to speak. “Are you alright, Marinette?”

“How did he die?”

The kwamis traded uneasy glances. “What?”

“Robin. Can you tell me how he died?” Marinette asked, clutching her knees to her chest. “I just… I need to know.”

“Marinette, I don’t think--”

“She deserves to know,” Wayzz said, interrupting Tikki. “Marinette is no child. SHe’s already had Master Fu taken from her, but she can’t grieve with anyone. She can’t even speak to anyone about it but us. She needs this closure, even if it’s heavy to bear.”

Tikki reluctantly agreed. “This would be easier if Plagg were here, but we can probably show you an approximation of what happened to the boy.”

The kwamis present circled around her, a soft magic glow spreading across all of them. A series of images flashed through her mind, each worse than the last: the glint of a raised crowbar, a pale face with a maniacal grin, blood spattered across grimy floorboards… The worst of all, however, was the image of Robin’s face as the bomb counted down to zero, the hopelessness that came from knowing that no one would come to save him.

Logically there had been no way for Marinette to know that any of this was happening, but she knew she would never be able to forgive herself. One of her only allies in the entire world had died scared and alone, and there was no excuse for that.

She allowed herself to cry for a while longer, the torrent of emotions too much. But alas, negative emotions, and often emotions in general were a luxury that Marinette Dupain-Cheng could not afford. When her tears ran out, Marinette simply straightened up, fed Kaalki a sugar cube, and went back to Paris.

From that day on, Marinette never spoke of Master Fu or Robin again, even to the kwami. She locked them deep in her heart where they could stay until Hawkmoth had been dealt with. As both Marinette and Ladybug, she devoted herself to ensuring that no one would ever feel as alone and afraid as Robin had.

Ladybug was stronger, better at her job than before while Marinette was kinder, more helpful, and more generous than ever. To some it seemed like it was the same as always, but those that really knew her had noticed: her smile was never the same. It was… damaged, somehow, something like seeing the outline of the sun through a veil of clouds.

**********************

This fic is NOT going to be like this most of the time, I swear. I have a good friend that I swap story ideas with named Kit, and we have a lot of fluffy nonsense ahead, with the occaisional splashes of angst. This is actually going to take place a few years in the future, when Marinette is starting college. Just as an FYI, I write fanfiction because it’s fun, but also because it gives me a medium to get feedback and improve my writing. Let me know what you guys think, and if you have any questions or suggestions. This is a side blog, so just know that when I reply in the comments, it’s under the username rogueptoridactyl. Just let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, and hopefully you guys like it!

Taglist: @slytherinsheashire @cravethosecrazysquares @krispydefendorpolice @thesunanditsangel @sonif50 @kris-pines04 @persephonebutkore @tbehartoo @corabeth11 @caffeinetheory @drarryismylife101 @bluerosette23 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5 @heaven428 @thethirdwheelfriend @thetinymoonflower @interobanginyourmom @chocolate1721 @akana-sama @skyel0ve @katiegardneriscoolerthanyou

#maribat #jasonette #jason x marinette

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demonfox38 · 3 years

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Completed - Zelda II: The Adventure of Link

Oh, my language is going to be vulgar on this one.

So, I'm a crusty millennial who likes old garbage. Most of the media I like is old enough to drink and be a member of the US congress, but probably couldn't be due to the country that produced it. Now, I'd like to think that I've got good reasons to like older media, particularly when it comes to video games. It's a bit hard for my NES to bug me for microtransactions/DLC and emanate the screams of children and man-children alike. But, as much as I like my retro junk, there's one thing I'm very, very happy about regarding modern video games. The variety of game types now-a-days is a blessing. It's rare that someone is stellar at all game types, and I sure have my weaknesses.

It took me a long time to realize that I could be good at video games, and I wholly blame the glut of 1980s platforming games on that.

Look, platforming is not a forgiving genre. Particularly, back in the day where you had characters dying in 1-3 hits before factoring in death pits. It existed then for the reason that fourteen million instakill indie horror games exist now. Instantly killing the player is a lot easier to code than, say, having to track a health bar or their new position as an enemy swats them into a different room. Sometimes, a coder's gotta do what they can to keep themselves sane.

But, from a player's perspective, this style sucks!

Getting good at a platforming game requires practicing the same levels over and over again, developing a sense of your character's inertia and limitations. Without a save state or a warp to narrow in on a particularly troublesome location, it's hard to get learning to stick. You could lose a lot of games and time trying to put it all together. And some poor little character is always suffering because of your ineptitude! Such failure feels like a fork in an electrical socket. Succeeding in these circumstances requires a great deal of emotional resilience and a contrary attitude. And you know what? That's just not something I had as a kid. In fact, one could say I had my aggression and competitive drive scolded out of me. I'm just now getting that back.

So, yeah. I had a little trouble with "Zelda II: The Adventure of Link."

"Zelda II" is part of a trifecta of NES games that get routinely shit on by retro reviewers. Like its peers "Super Mario Bros. 2" and "Castlevania II", this game is generally considered an inferior game due to an extreme change of gameplay and appearance from its predecessors. And you know what? That attitude sucks. I'd rather have a variety of different games with a cast I like than have them pigeon-holed into one genre. In "Zelda II"'s case, however? The game mechanic shift was so extreme that I can easily see the ire it raises. Hell, I felt it. I wouldn't go so far to say that it's the worst Zelda game ever, but man, does it have structural defects.

In "Zelda II", Link's goal is to save an ensorcelled Zelda from eternal slumber by picking up a Triforce chunk that was pitched into a fuck-off palace way at the edge of Hyrule. (No, not the Zelda from the first game. Another Zelda. Same Link, though.) To do that, he's got to slap six gemstones into various temples across the countryside. Naturally, that includes picking up his trusty sword, leaping into battle, and then maybe straight into a death pit.

That's right. This Zelda is actually a Mario.

Further complicating the matter is a sharp switch in battle style and item accruement. While the previous Zelda game was about room management and ranged combat (or at least, as much as that was allowed), this game is all about jamming Link's dinky sword into an enemy's face and running off as fast as he can. Now, Link can learn a few tricks to help with the slash and dash, like directional stab mechanics and spells. But, as far as getting new weapons to help you? Sorry, bud. No bombs or boomerangs here. Well, except for the assholes throwing boomerangs at you, anyway. You just can't steal them.

The game encourages polishing the player's skill with Link through a level system. After acquiring XP through good ol' fashioned monster murdering, Link can cash his points out, improving his life, magic, or attack power. As the player levels him up, stats become more costly to improve. If Link gets a total game over before you use your XP, it is wiped out. Alright, fine. Fair, I guess. But, I wouldn't recommend looking at Japanese footage of this game if you don't want to give yourself a migraine. It turns out that as a part of some rebalancing, the level-up system was stacked to try and keep players from dumping all of their points into a single stat early into the game. Particularly, attack. Considering how painful and annoying enemy logic gets in this game, it's such a drag to learn that Japanese players literally could cut their way right out of that struggle. Thanks for dicking with the game design again, American publishers.

I guess we got better looking sprites and sound effects out of the deal? Hooray for wiggly Barba.

Even with leveling mechanics and a handful of heart and magic containers, this Link feels much frailer than the original Zelda's Link. Like, it's hard to believe he's supposed to be the same guy. Even at max health and defense, you could get Link wiped out with 8-32 hits (as opposed to 16-64 hits from the first game.) Exacerbating that is a life system that can yoink those health bars at any pit's whim and Link's range/health restoration being tied to a limited pool of magic. It feels like you're playing with a ceramic replica of the original character. You can make it work in a fight, sure, but you'd rather have a sword than a shard of a broken teapot.

If you don't have a bushido-level acceptance of death, you're not going to make it very far in this game. I'm not being hyperbolic. You have to accept that you are going to kill Link. You're going to watch that little fairy boy fade to black as the world flashes around him, and you're going to see that a lot. You're going to toss his bitch ass into the river to get a game over and restock your lives because fuck if you're going to wipe out inside a dungeon and have to start your bitch ass back at Zelda's temple again. That little counter on the main menu isn't how many times you have wiped out. It's how many times you've clawed your way out of the abyss with a middle finger raised.

Oh. Minor epilepsy warning on boss and Link deaths, by the way.

Having gone full bleak there for a moment, there are a few pieces of knowledge that can help slow down the cycle of life and death:

There are towns with nice ladies in red dresses and orange robes that will heal your ass for free. You should talk with them a lot.

There are classes of enemies that will drop items after they have been killed six times. Most of the time, this is a magic bottle that restores MP. Sometimes, it's a bag of experience. No monster will drop anything to heal your HP.

Also, some enemies are literal rat bastards that steal your XP. Some also give you no XP on killing them. Yeah. I know. Annoying.

The Life spell is in Saria. The downward stab is in Mido. (I realize these are very strange sentences if you're more familiar with "Ocarina of Time.") Getting these can make a night and day difference in surviving the game. So, keep that in mind.

You do get a spell that will turn you into a fairy. You can use it to game pits and sneak past lock doors. Just don't abuse it too much. It's expensive.

The dungeons have this little statue in front of them that you can whack with your sword. In most locations, it'll drop either a magic bottle or an Iron Knuckle. Game entering and exiting a dungeon as much as possible to restore yourself to full vitality.

You can get into random fights on the overworld (represented either by a little black blob or a more threatening human-sized blob.) Staying on gold roads will mean these encounters produce no enemies.

Also, you can use those random battles to override forced platforming sections. Not that I would recommend cheating in such a fashion. 😉

The game will give you a level up after you plug a gemstone into a dungeon. If you're close to leveling up anyway, turn around and grind up to the top, cash in what you've got, and then go pitch that gem.

Link has a crouch, not a duck. You think pressing down on the D-pad will evade projectiles aimed at your face, but it does not. Crouching is only good for blocking floor-level garbage. It's best not to think of the down button as much as possible, really. Only use it to pick up crap off the ground and cheese the final boss. Otherwise, jump.

I know that I said earlier that "Zelda II" is mechanically like a Mario game, but you know what other perspective might help? Try and play Link as a Metroidvania Castlevania character. There's an attack style in games like "Castlevania: Symphony of the Night" and "Aria of Sorrow" where you walk, jump, and attack in such a way that you never stop moving forward. That's what you've got to do. Walk, jump at an enemy, bonk on forehead. (Depending on how fast you press the attack button, you may need to delay swinging your sword just a teeny bit. At least, I had a bad habit of swinging too early.) With any luck, when you hit the ground, you will be able to keep on moving. You do not want to get stuck playing "poke-the-hole" with your enemies, particularly with how turtle-y some of them can get.

So, the game's a brutal bitch, but I don't want to spend the entire time shitting on it. Let's talk about improvements.

Honestly, I like the sprite style of the side-scrolling sections better than the previous game. Everyone/thing has more room to be rendered, so they look clearer. I can't say the monster or dungeon design here is my favorite, but hey. Easy to see. Yippie. Could have used a map though. Maybe some more tile textures in the dungeons?

NO. STOP. BE NICE.

There are more people around that want to help Link out. Like, whole towns filled with helpful healing ladies and dudes that will teach you magic and the occasional sword strike. Most of their conversation makes sense (although, there's a memetastic fault in translation regarding a character being named Error instead of what I'm assuming should have been Errol.) People good. Want to help people. People help me.

Except for towns where some of the people are monsters, and one of the times they overlapped a healing lady to get text box priority, and then they killed me. Boo.

I'M SORRY. I HAD A HARD TIME.

The music variety is pleasant. Only a few tracks have escaped the game to go into use elsewhere, but there's only one that I'm really iffy on. The NA release did a fine job transposing what they could using a different sound chip, and there are striking uses of the sample channel being used in ominous situations.

But…like…I struggle to see where fighting through this game is worth it. And maybe it comes down to the final boss. Like, the penultimate one? Absolutely cool. A bitch to fight, but I can't knock how massive and intricate its sprite is. But, the final boss? I suppose it comes down to personal tastes, but I find mirror matches/rivals to be exceedingly dull. Like, good for you. You know how I fight. I do too. Come back to me when you know the weaknesses of my style and use a fresh set of skills to throw at me.

Like, it's not the worst ending in the Zelda series. (My vote for that would go to "Link's Awakening.") You do get Zelda saved. But, given that the final boss is some kind of dark clone of yourself…it begs a lot of questions. Was there any concrete plan for the forces of darkness in Hyrule, or were various monster tribes just scuffling around, being dicks without any overarching plan? Were some monsters trying to keep you out of the Great Palace for a good reason? Would there have been any threat of Ganon reviving at all if Link just…sat on his ass behind a castle for the next century or managed his anxiety in a different way? Why does the manual bother to separate Zeldas and the game does not? Oh, wait. The Japanese intro correctly distinguishes this and the American one does not. Why am I not surprised? What's the difference if you don't see the Zelda you saved from the first game, anyway?

This game is a lot of work. I had to psych myself up to play it every time, and by the end, I was rattled enough by my nerves that I literally camped in my bathroom for a few minutes just to make sure I didn't get sick on the couch. Very stressful. And I'm not sure that stress was worth it, frankly. Life's hard enough as it is right now. I literally have a stress rash on my neck from the shit I'm going through in real life. No, you did not need to know about that. But maybe you need to know that I've been having a hard time lately, and this game did nothing to alleviate me from the stresses of reality. And what's the point in checking out from reality if a fantasy world is just going to make me miserable, too?

There are better games to play in this style. Hell, there are better games on the NES in this style. You know what you should go play? "Faxanadu." It's uglier than "Zelda II", sure. An absolute idiot when it comes to basic mathematics. But it's very chill about platforming and death. And maybe I just want to chill the fuck out for a while.

#post game evaluation #zelda ii: the adventure of link

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vankoya · 7 years

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Extra Cheese, Please!

✽ Read the indecorous follow-up piece, Less Cheese, More Please!

Genre | Best Friends to Lovers / Housemates AU.

Pairing | Jeon Jeongguk / Feminine Reader.

Words | 9,524 words.

Conspectus | Jeongguk dislikes three things: 1. Having his Overwatch marathon nights interrupted, 2. Dealing with drunk people while he is sober, and 3. Cheesy ramyeon. His best friend slash housemate slash insufferable crush is the drunk girl with an incessant craving for super cheesy ramyeon who interrupts his Overwatch marathon night, and ultimately proves that the aforementioned meal looks just as gross coming up than it does when it is first in the bowl.

Luckily, there is always a silver lining. Even in the worst of situations.

Warnings | Swearing. Alcohol. Vomiting as a result of being overly drunk. Sexual innuendos. Fondling. Jeongguk cannot deal with cleavage.

Jeongguk guesses that it is nearing one in the morning when his phone buzzes four times in succession. The vibrations occur no more than a few seconds apart against his balls, which is where the device has slipped down to nestle over the course of the past eight minutes.

He knows he should probably reach between his thighs and retrieve it to check the slew of texts that tickle his dick through a pair of grey sweatpants. He is also ninety-nine percent positive that he knows precisely who the sender is. But the military bomb payload is that fucking close to being at the Deadlock Gang’s cave hideout, just having passed Checkpoint B, and Jeongguk is quite possibly playing his best Escort game since he planted his sweet ass on the living room couch. The four instant ramyeon packets that he inhaled at eight o’clock are still burning off in his system. Well-needed fuel for a long, uninterrupted night of Overwatch.

Well, the chances of that peaceful gaming occurring were narrowed to considerably slim once a certain someone had slipped out of her bedroom and announced she was going out for cocktails. She had managed to breeze through the front door before Jeongguk could really have enough of an opportunity to stare at her magnificent ass in those jeans. But if his calculations were correct, he has made it through a solid five hours of tranquility so far.

When he sees the attacking team’s Lucio put up a sound barrier, Jeongguk cannot help but blast a grin of victory. He unleashes his McCree’s deadeye, obliterating the entire team. There is a triumphant shout that is echoed amongst his own teammates, and he nearly throws his goddamn PS4 controller at the television when he fist-pumps the air out of excitement. Through the headset, Yugyeom makes a comment amongst his hooting along the lines of: “McCree, that OP motherfucker!” while Jeongguk spams McCree’s: “I’m the quick, you’re the dead,” voice line over and over in the final seconds that the payload reaches its destination and the game comes to a close.

Earning play of the game was expected after the shit he pulled last minute. Though Jeongguk finds himself surprised when he gets ten votes out of the twelve players, considering the opposing team is currently shouting a stream of insults. Because yeah, McCree is overpowered as fuck. But the sheer laziness in him cannot bear the thought of having to train up on a different hero, at this stage.

“I’m out,” Jeongguk announces to Yugyeom as he reaches down to grab his phone, beginning to vibrate against his balls again due to his lack of response. Yugyeom laughs, the connection slightly static.

“Gotta get your girlfriend, huh?“

“Fuck you, not my girlfriend,” Jeongguk barks before exiting the main screen, albeit with a tiny smile, and then shifts his headset to sit around his neck. When he clicks the home button of his phone, he is greeted by a screen lit up with eight notifications, confirming two things.

It is definitely past one in the morning, and it is definitely who he was expecting to be.

Jeongguk gets his heart stuck in his throat, bites his tongue and stupidly grins at the last text that was sent, chest tight at the thought of her missing him. He can picture that dumbass drunk smile of her’s so clearly; a sight that he has seen enough times to have it burned into the very cells of his brain. It is the one thing that is beyond fucking adorable when paired with her glassy eyes, staring roundly at him while she perches that amazing ass on his lap. Right on the zipper of his jeans so that the jagged metal presses right against his dick and– Fuck, too far.

He chances a glance at his sweatpants and yeah, shit, he is a little bit hard now. Jeongguk slaps himself, firm enough to properly wake up from his unexpectedly lascivious daze, and then he quickly punches in his passcode.

He sputters and incredulously shakes his head, running a hand through his hair because hell yeah, she is a twelve alright. More than that even, a hundred in his books, if numbers had to define her. Maybe Jeongguk should not think such thoughts about his best friend of seven years slash university flatmate of two. But then again, her attractiveness is common knowledge amongst their friends and all those alike who encounter her. As clear as the sky is blue and the grass is green. Simply, Jeongguk is just confirming the obvious and nothing more than that.

Yeah, definitely nothing more than that. Totally still not semi-hard over the thought of her drunk smile, of all the boner-inducing things about her.

Before he can text her back, the theme song to Legend of Zelda is filtering through the living room and the ugliest photo he has of her is appearing blown up on the screen. The image is one that is zoomed right in on her face from where she breaches the ocean, pixelated by the added effect of it being a screenshot. The fast motion of her coming up after a wave had crushed her makes it appear as though her face is being dragged down by gravity; mouth parted in a gasp; completely wet hair plastered to her scalp, and presented at such an angle that she looks bald.

It is fucking hideous. Jeongguk had laughed so hard that he peed himself a little the first time he noticed it in one of the snapshots that he had taken on his DLSR at the beach that day, and he never let her live it down. But they did come to a mutual agreement to not allow such a monstrosity to be released to the general public on an unfortunate Facebook birthday post, or as a tactic for revenge. Otherwise, Jeongguk would similarly be having a picture of himself exposed as far as the eye can see. The one where he is slumped backwards over their coffee table, blacked out and wearing nothing but a pair of her pretty pink panties, the tip of his sad and soft dick poking out the leg hole.

Jeongguk stares at the caller ID photo a moment longer, eyes watering with hilarity before he swipes his finger across the screen to answer with, “Well, well, if it isn’t–“

“Th–The sexiest motherfucker you know?” slurs through the other end of the line, nearly drowned out by the commotion she most likely sits cross-eyed within. “Who s’about to be joined by a much less sexy motherfucker, hmm?”

“Let me guess,” Jeongguk runs his tongue over his teeth, unhooking the headset from his neck and placing it on the coffee table, “I’m the less sexy motherfucker?” he says as he reaches for the remote to turn off the television.

“Ding ding, ten points to Gryffindor,” she whoops and giggles, and god, Jeongguk melts a little as he stands up but definitely not because he thinks her intoxicated laughter sounds fucking adorable. No way. “Y’gonna come collect the goods?”

He stuffs his feet into a battered pair of Vans and reaches for his black parka, looking like a damn slob and all with nothing but a dark shirt and his grey sweats underneath. He has no plans to stay longer than absolutely necessary at the bar, anyway. “I can’t think of any goods I need to collect,” Jeongguk sighs, swiping his house keys and wallet from the dish atop the entry cabinet and making way towards the front door. “A drunken mess that unfortunately so happens to be my best friend sounds more accurate.”

“At leas’ she’s got a great ass!” she defends herself, Jeongguk mentally agrees, then literally has to slap himself across the face again for focusing too long on the mental image of it, which he has copied in high-definition into his memory. Her voice becomes distant from the speaker, shouts out, “No you may not touch it, fuckin’ perv! Go piss in yo’ girly fuckin’ Cosmopolitan, yeah?!”

“Please don’t get yourself killed before I get there,” Jeongguk raises his voice a little in hopes of her hearing over the music. A smidgen of the tension that is suddenly squeezing at his chest is released when he hears her indignant huff right against the speaker. “I’m gonna be pissed if I walk all that way just to find you’re dead.”

“It’s like, one kilometre tops, pussy,” she retorts, the eye roll practically audible as Jeongguk locks the front door and then heads down the hallway to the elevator. “A light jog’ll get you here in what, five minutes. So start runnin’, boy.”

“Fuck no. I’m hanging up. Stay alive.” He mutters, punching repeatedly at the elevator button as if it will make the doors open faster.

Distantly, he wonders why he is in such a goddamn rush. He narrows it down to just wanting to get back home again as soon as humanly possible; to return to his disturbed Overwatch marathon. Yeah, of course that is why.

“Thanks babe, you th’ best!” she sings, hangs up before he can, and Jeongguk jams his finger against the button with a greater ferocity until the elevator dings open after what feels to be centuries of waiting. (It was not even thirty seconds.)

He ends up speedily jogging the entire way to the bar to build up his blood circulation because it is cold as tits outside, of course. Definitely not because it means he will get to see her sooner, make sure she is safe and sound and not being leered at by some drunken, creepy lecher.

Nope. No way at all.

They say that there is always a silver lining to every unfortunate and downright dreadful situation. Jeongguk is currently wondering where the fuck such lining happens to be once he finally finds a particular girl that he was forced and threatened to brave the cold in order to collect, only to be met by the pout that she knows gets him all pliable and willing. He does not know it yet, but the silver lining is still coming. Slowly, gradually, but it will.

Even if, right now, that shit seems as likely as getting a blow job from Beyonce.

“How much?” he shouts to be heard over the pounding music, repeats for the second time because he refuses to believe the sum that the bartender first announced.

At Jeongguk’s hip slouches the self-proclaimed goods. The treacherous best friend, who keeps having to be hiked up by his arm curled tightly around her waist since her bones liquefied by liquor are failing to keep her standing. She has that goofy smile pulling at her plush lips, and Jeongguk is torn between wanting to slap from her face, or to kiss it away instead.

The bartender checks the amount again, then leans towards Jeongguk with a somewhat empathetic expression to call back, “Rounded to one hundred and eighty-four dollars.”

On the inside, Jeongguk might be crying a little. Funny how the reason behind his internal agony is also the same thing that is keeping him slightly sane through his mental calculations of how much money he has left in his bank account. Pressed against his side with an intoxicated, unfocused gaze that stares up at him too endearingly for him to be one hundred percent angry. He is at ninety-nine point nine-nine percent. Okay, maybe on the cusp of no less than ninety percent. Goddamn.

“I’m letting you go for a second,” Jeongguk warns her and begins to slowly recede his arm, giving her enough time to support herself on the bar. Rather than doing this, she wraps her own arms around his waist and nestles under his armpit.

In any other situation than the apparent one, where he has to aid his best friend’s spontaneous cocktail night with his own miserable funds, Jeongguk would be fighting to tame the glee. The kind that would be demanding to tuck her closer, and perhaps press his nose to the crown of her head so he can breathe in the soft scent of her vanilla shampoo. Unfortunately, no matter how much he wills himself to be dreaming that his weekly budget is about to be kicked repeatedly in the balls and that maybe, instead, they are just at home on the couch and it is one of those movie nights where she gets extra cuddly for no apparent reason, Jeongguk is still stuck in the apparent situation.

He glares at his tormenter, who continues to latch like a lock around his body, and barely manages to keep his tears from falling as he retrieves his wallet and flips it open, fingers shaky. An extra tug is required from the bartender to loosen the measly grip Jeongguk’s fingertips have on his debit card when he hands it over.

“Girlfriend?” The bartender politely chips in as he swipes the card through the eftpos machine and then faces the keypad towards Jeongguk. As Jeongguk punches in the pin number, the bartender darts his gaze up to him with a raised eyebrow. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“Neither, and I don’t know if that makes it better or worse,” Jeongguk smiles, the kind that conveys his immense internal suffering. The bartender gives a sympathetic nod and hands back Jeongguk’s card before rushing off to continue serving drinks.

The latest, monstrous attachment on Jeongguk’s side squeezes him with her feeble, jelly-drunk arms. Albeit the situation, something softens inside of him when he grabs her chin so that she will properly face him. She blinks languidly like an overtired kitten, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, lipstick smeared a little on her chin. Not in the way that suggests somebody else had their mouth on her own. It is definitely the familiar mark caused by the back of her hand rubbing against her lips after taking a shot. Jeongguk is still weighing up whether he prefers the latter to the former.

“‘m tired, Jeonggukie,” she whines, slumps closer to him, and he wraps his arm around her waist again, hoisting her up with a displeased sound.

“All that talk about wanting me to have a drink with you, and now you’re making me pay the bill and run?” Jeongguk teasingly chides, and she unabashedly nods against his right pectoral. Alarm bells start ringing in his head when her weight against his side grows a tad too close to the ‘falling unconscious’ side of the spectrum. “Woah, hey– No. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me, ___. You still have to walk home.”

She hooks her chin on his shoulder and conjures that goofy, heart-melting grin that has Jeongguk crying a little on the inside, because he is such an absolute sucker for her. In that moment, her pout becomes the bane of his existence as she says, “Jus’ carry me, yeah?”

“Hell fucking no.”

Jeongguk carries her on his back the entire damn way.

By the time they reach the front door of their apartment, Jeongguk’s knees are weakly trembling and he feels utterly winded. Maybe it is a sign that he needs to get back into the gym on the weekends instead of indulging Yugyeom with Overwatch marathons. Or, more favourably, he needs to find a new best friend who will not 1. have him pay for her expensive, alcoholic ways, and then 2. make him piggyback her through the bitter cold night while she is practically deadweight against his shoulders in her partially asleep state.

“For someone who was calling me a pussy because I couldn’t be bothered walking to the bar, you’re awfully hypocritical in riding my back the whole way home,” Jeongguk says, gasping a little, jiggling the key in the lock and bustling them both inside once the latch clicks.

She clambers off his back, staggers slightly, and then catches herself on the back of the couch. Miraculously, she appears minutely more sober than she was twenty minutes ago. “Could’ve got an Uber.”

Jeongguk kicks off his shoes. “What, and paid him with the moths flying out of my wallet?”

She shrugs. “It would’ve cos’ like, three dollars.”

“That three dollars is lasting us until next Thursday, thanks to a certain someone who just made me blow my pay that I only got four days ago,” he hisses, sliding out of his jacket and hanging it over one of the dining table chairs.

And there it is again. That silly little grin tugging softly at her lips as she wiggles her hips against the couch. Strategically, Jeongguk briskly turns on his heel and strides into the kitchen before she can get her nails in him. Moulding him like the pathetic putty that he is. He can practically hear her pout when he ignores her blatant attempt at melting down his cold facade. Then, her heels unsteadily click across the vinyl flooring to watch him pull out a saucepan and fill it halfway with water, positioning it on the largest hotplate.

Jeongguk does not cast his eyes her way, even if every inch of his body, particularly his dick, is demanding that he do so. Because holy eight-pound six-ounce sweet baby Jesus in his cradle of hay, he did not notice in the dim lighting of the bar, but she is wearing a black v-cut sweater that exposes her shoulders and collarbones and a barely there shadow of cleavage. That, in itself, is saying something since her tits are a size that would fit neatly in his palms without any overflow. Just a nice, small and cute handful. God, he has never seen her with even a hint of cleavage like this before. This is unchartered territory that he has no idea of how to face, especially when he can barely cope with the sight of her amazing ass in any kind of legwear.

Jeongguk, staring blankly at the packet ramyeon in his hands, mentally forces himself not to get fucking hard like a teenage boy in the middle of their goddamn kitchen.

“What’cha doin’, good lookin’?” she hums, now perched on a breakfast bar stool with the side of her face mashed into the heel of her palm, elbow propped up on the kitchen counter. In his periphery, those small, adorable breasts spill from the v-neck onto the white laminate as a result of her slouched over position. Every single one of his nerve-endings is aflame.

Jeongguk releases the air trapped tightly in his lungs and then proceeds to make way towards the slowly simmering pot of water. He dares not a single glance at her, for the fabric of his sweatpants leaves little to the imagination, and she has definitely recognised a semi in them before.

“I’m making you something to eat since you always get hungry after drinking. Also, because I’m the greatest best friend that this world could’ve ever graced you with.” Jeongguk’s eyes are glued to his hands as he begins tearing into the packets. He dumps the dehydrated noodles and seasonings into the water, and desperately tries not to think about how sweet her tits would look in his hands. Praying that she takes the bait, he adds on as an afterthought, “Why don’t you get changed into something comfortable, and the food will be ready when you are?”

There is a pause, a moment where Jeongguk’s tongue pulses like a heart in his mouth, and he tries not to break into a nervous sweat. He can practically hear his own words clicking into place in her mind; connecting, disconnecting, reconnecting; fumbling through the drunken haze that still lays thick on her thought process. Twenty seconds pass, and he ends up so on edge that when she slaps her open palm against the countertop, he startles so abruptly that he rips open a seasoning packet with the ferocity of a gorilla. Beef flavouring bursts over his shirt and the stovetop in a cloud of brown dust.

“I shall go do that,” she announces. Jeongguk, going from nearly hyperventilating out of surprise to having a coughing fit from inhaling seasoning particles, sees her slither like a lizard off the stool out of his watering periphery. Except drunk, and with a goddamn, freshly fucking harvested cleavage.

He only lets a tear roll down his cheek once she has staggered down the hallway. This is Jeon Jeongguk, at the ripe age of twenty-three, accepting that he may die tonight.

Despite this possibility, he goes about cleaning up the spilled beef flavouring, saving as much of it as he can and depositing it in the simmering pot. The ramyeon-making itself goes rather smoothly. He manages to not spill the boiling water all over himself, nor accidentally rub his eyes after touching the chilli sauce like he did that one, hellish time that rendered him blind for just under three hours. He stirs the noodle broth and listens to her clomp around her bedroom, the occasional grunt and groan emitting when she cracks her hip against her desk, or whacks her shoulder against the frame of her walk-in closet.

She remerges in an acceptably less boner-inducing outfit. Consisting of one of his black hoodies that nearly reaches her knees, and assumedly (he prays, at least) a pair of unseeable boyshorts underneath. Jeongguk starts straining the ramyeon into a bowl.

“That’s mine,” he says about the hoodie while she clambers back onto the stool, looking soft and cuddly in her bundle of cotton and fleece. Her attire may not be as threatening to his vulnerable dick, but it is definitely as murderous to his weakened heart.

“Finders keepers, losers are weepers,” she immediately fires back, settling into her previous palm-smushed-against-face position, waiting for him to finish plating up the ramyeon. “Dun’ forget the cheese, either.”

At that, his whole body shudders with repulsion. For the first time since the growth of her cleavage was made apparent, Jeongguk faces her directly and hopes that the sheer suffering she puts him through is perfectly translated through his withered expression when he says, “You are disgusting,” before opening the fridge anyway and retrieving the container of pre-sliced easy-melt. “I will never understand how you can perform such sacrilege against the two holiest foods by combining them into the edible-equivalent of Hell.”

“Excuse you, cheesy ramyeon is the best gift this world has given us.” She frowns at the ceiling, thinks this over for a moment, and then corrects herself with, “Has given me, since I’m the best gift this world has ever given you.”

Jeongguk merely chuckles, does not deny it, because one may call him a deadset liar if he were to do so. Instead, he peels two slices of cheese out of the container and places them atop the bowl of steaming ramyeon, pressing them down with a fork so that they melt faster.

She makes an iffy little sound, somewhat of a whine, and says, “Extra cheese, please!”

“You’ll make yourself feel sick,” he warns, yet all she does is glare adorably at him until he caves like the weak man that he is and adds an extra two squares. A thought itches at the back of his mind, informing him that he is most likely going to regret this, and he brushes it away just as quickly as it forms. Under that beguiling gaze of hers, she could ask Jeongguk to stick chopsticks up his ass and impersonate a popsicle and he would.

An over-exaggeration, but you get the point.

“Alright, one extra cheesy ramyeon for the drunk girl with disgusting taste in food,” Jeongguk declares, reaching across the counter to place the dairy-laden bowl in front of her before grabbing her hand, putting the fork in her open palm and forcibly curling her fingers around it with his own. He holds her hand a moment longer than necessary between his own, grinning tightly, remaining to ignore the voice that is now screeching in his head that feeding her this is a very, very bad idea. “Bon appétit,” he finalises, and the deal is done.

She smiles up at him, eyes shining and all of her teeth on display. Jeongguk wonders what wars he must have ended in his past life to be rewarded with this girl of starlight and vanilla and honey who winds around him, softens him into warm and easy. Before he can further dwell on such a tender thought, she shovels a grotesque forkful of cheesy ramyeon into her mouth.

“Tfhanksh Jeonguffie,” she says around the stickiness, and Jeongguk, now the perfect picture of nonchalance, wordlessly turns on his heel and begins to clean up the dishes. Anything, really, to distract himself from projecting the small amount of vomit that has lurched up to the back of his throat at the horrendous meal making contact with those lips that deserve so much better.

Minutes slowly go by, stretching past two in the morning and beginning to progress towards quarter-past. Besides the sickening slurps that she makes behind him, and the clattering of the saucepan with a handful of dirty dishes from his own dinner being washed in the sink, no conversation is made, and it is comfortable. These moments are precisely why Jeongguk has not risked it yet; asking her the big question; the determiner as to whether their best friendship will advance into something more. If she were to deny him, he believes he would be able to handle it, but he knows well that such knowledge would be on her mind every time she looks his way. The awkward tension would ensue, she would overanalyse his every move, and he would become distant because he does not want her to get the wrong idea. They would anticipate the day that the lease on their apartment runs out so they can go their separate ways as soon as possible.

So, he keeps quiet and basks in the contentment that they have created together in their little home. At the end of the day, she is his best friend, and he could not imagine a future without her in it. No matter if they were romantically involved, or purely platonic. Sure, he would love to kiss her collarbones and put his hands on her hips and maybe – just maybe – tell her that he loves her in the morning glow of a lazy Sunday, whispered across the pillowcases. But he can live without that. He can be a big boy about it and move on.

He keeps telling himself this, at least. Soon, he will genuinely be convinced that he can do it.

“Jeongguk.”

“Mmm,” he hums in response, turning around when her follow-up is delayed, and he instantly notices how her expression has suddenly transformed.

Honestly, Usain Bolt could not even compare to how fast his ass moves. Jeongguk skirts around the kitchen counter, pulls her off the stool, and hastily guides her towards the sink while cursing under his breath.

“I feel…” she mumbles as Jeongguk takes out the plug and then gathers her hair up as well as he can manage, holding it in a loose bun at the crown of her head and cringing when her torso slightly convulses. “Like I’m gonna– Ugh–“

“Oh my god.”

Jeongguk swears he did not make her that much cheesy ramyeon. But dear fucking lord, the sheer amount that comes up and splashes into the sink is simply horrifying. The noodles must have expanded in her stomach for such an extensive volume to now be regurgitated in disgusting, yellow chunks that make his own stomach turn with wooziness. He cannot believe he thought cheesy ramyeon looked bad in the bowl, because it is appearing to be at least ten times worse in the form of barf.

“You owe me– Ugh, christ– So big after tonight, you little shit,” Jeongguk grunts at her between clenched teeth and gags when he gets a whiff of the stench. Like over-fermented dairy left out in the sun for weeks, doused in a hefty helping of vodka.

The sound she makes is awful when the next heave is unleashed onto the stainless steel, and she reaches one hand back from where it is braced on the counter to weakly pat his stomach. When she shakily murmurs, “I’ll give you the best blow of your life as thanks,” Jeongguk has to bite the wet, fleshy inner of his cheek to stop the visualisation of her words from drowning his mind until it is all he can think about.

“Don’t talk about sucking my dick while you’re vomiting,” he groans with a small tilt to the corners of his lips despite himself, collecting a loose strand of hair that is falling dangerously close to her mouth. She halfheartedly laughs before another surge of cheesy ramyeon makes its departure from her body, and Jeongguk dry-heaves in perfect synchronisation.

By the time the contents of her belly have been completely and utterly expelled, Jeongguk is admittedly feeling much weaker in the stomach than he was before her bout of throwing up. Especially after having to wash it down the drain. Once there is not an inch of cheesy noodles in sight, he gingerly carries her bridal-style into their shared bathroom and props her up on the sink, one hand on her waist to keep her steady and the other reaching for her toothbrush.

Jeongguk bites his lip to hide his smile when she leans forward and rests her forehead on his chest while he squeezes out a line of toothpaste. He wets the brush a little under the tap, and then takes her chin like he had back in the club, lifting it up so that he can see her sleepy, downright adorable face. Seriously, who looks this cute after vomiting up their breakfast, lunch, dinner, and all of the vodka sloshed in between?

“Open your mouth,” Jeongguk says, moving his fingers so they can squeeze her cheeks and make her lips pout like a fish. His heart weeps like the pathetic thing that it is at the sight.

She waggles her eyebrows to the best of her ability in her sobering, exhausted state. “What’re you going to put in there?”

“Not my dick, unfortunately for you,” Jeongguk chuckles, holding up the toothbrush, and she sighs loudly with faux disappointment. Well, he thinks she is joking. Surely she is.

Obediently, she opens her mouth. Jeongguk abruptly shoves the toothbrush in there and starts scrubbing at her pearly whites before he can think of the way she looks with her lipstick-smudged lips parted so obscenely like that.

His brain is the epitome of a keyboard smash.

It only glitches all the more when Jeongguk gradually comes to realise the entire position that they are both in; taking him over like a virus. His non-brushing hand still cups her small jaw. Glitch. Her bare thighs brush against his hips as she lightly swings her feet. Glitch. She blatantly stares at him, eyes half-lidded and looking like melted butter. Error: Jeon Jeongguk is no longer computing.

At least he can thank all of the deities that she is no longer wearing the Cleavage Sweater of Jeongguk’s Absolute Demise. Otherwise, he would have a bird’s eye view of the goods in question, and he, undoubtedly, would be a dead man.

Before he can linger on the dangerous thought of her small breasts while he is at this high-risk proximity, she makes a distressed gurgling sound. A sliver of Jeongguk’s sanity returns to him and he realises that toothpaste is spilling out of her mouth and onto his hand. With a panicked yelp, he yanks the toothbrush out of her mouth and she hurries to swivel around and spit out the accumulated mass of minty foam into the sink.

“Jesus H. Christ, Jeon,” she rasps, coughing once and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Her glare is watery and suspicious. “Were you trying to drown me? Imagine that. Death by toothpaste.”

He sputters, swallowing down laughter. “Shit, sorry, I was just– Uh, thinking about something,” he mutters, sheepishly smiling and reaching around her to rinse off the toothbrush.

“‘bout what?” she hums, dipping her head down so she can cutely shove her face in his own. Jeongguk grunts and cranes his neck away, but she grins wider and follows him, accidentally bumping her nose against his jaw. “What’cha thinking about, huh?”

“Ugh, hey– Stop!” He lets the toothbrush clatter into the sink and smooshes her cheeks between his large palms, holding her still, approximately an inch away from his nose. Cautiously, Jeongguk leans back, redeems the blush that is steadily heating his own cheeks by saying, “I was just thinking about all the ways I’m going to make you repay me for making me deal with your drunk ass.”

She half-heartedly waggles her eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”

“Oh, you know,” he says as he drops his hands to her knees, but he does not fucking know at all since he was thinking about her tits again. His barely functioning, overtired and exhausted brain manages to conjure a handful of weak options. “I could make you do the dishes for a whole month. Or maybe, I could get you to buy the groceries for the next two fortnights. That’ll wipe your cocktail debt, at least.”

“You’re too soft on me, Jeongguk. Even when I can make your life a living hell,” she sighs, sleepily blinking at him. Unexpectedly, she knots her hands into the front of his shirt and pulls him close, successfully bringing his face back to the proximity that it was only a moment ago; nearly nose to nose. He can very suddenly feel his pulse practically vibrating in his throat. “‘m really sorry. You deserve something better than just some silly chores. I’ll pay you back the money of course, but– … Hey, what does my breath smell like?”

Before Jeongguk can even question her, she is forcefully exhaling onto his face. A gust of peppermint fills his nostrils, powerful enough to make him flinch. “Minty fresh. Why?”

Her lips stretch into a gentle curve, and beneath the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, it almost appears nervous. “Good, ‘cos here goes nothing.”

Jeongguk is about to frown, about to speak, about to something. He cannot recall. Not now that she has closed the short gap between them and is accurately planting her mouth upon his own.

For a moment, Jeongguk thinks he might well and truly be dreaming. That tonight was some ridiculously real, torturous fantasy that his imagination managed to conjure in his unconscious state. But then her soft, damp lips part ever so slightly. Warm with the heat of her mouth, yet cool from the toothpaste. She opens up to him, her hands sliding up his chest to lock around his nape, the tip of her tongue skimming along the rosy flesh of his lower lip, and he knows.

This is very, very real.

Holy shit.

It takes a second for him to comprehend that he should kiss her back instead of standing there like a startled creature. And so, he slides his hands up from her knees to the middle of her thighs, the soft flesh warm beneath his palms when he gently grips them, and he tilts his head slightly to the side to deepen it. At this, she makes the most pleasant, lovely little sound. The edges of her nails lightly graze against the hair on the back of his neck, and elicit gooseflesh that tingles along his arms.

Jeongguk parts his lips, lets her in, groans quietly when her tongue brushes against the underside of his own and then recedes. He chases after it, tasting warmth and cool peppermint as he carefully sinks his teeth into her lower lip, nibbling at the plush flesh and releasing it. A thin string of saliva connects their mouths as they separate for the most infinitesimal of moments before they dive back in. They are abstrusely drawn to each other. Like a black hole has formed between their bodies and they are radiant stars, pulled to the centre by gravity, colliding and becoming one.

Jeongguk cannot think straight. His mind has become an unrecognisable labyrinth that he cannot navigate; sent into turmoil by the taste of her, the feeling of her underneath the weight of his hands. He searches higher up her thighs, skimming beneath the hem of the hoodie and over her boyshorts, finding her waist and anchoring his fingers there, pulling her closer. Now, with her torso melding against his own, she loops her arms over his shoulders and her legs around his hips, locking her ankles and hands so that the embrace cannot be broken. Jeongguk melts completely, and he prays that this is not just some measly, intoxicated repayment. That what he feels in the slow movements of her lips and the press of her tongue is what he thinks it is.

What he has been hoping for all this time.

As if she reads his mind, she suddenly jolts away like she has been electrocuted. Jeongguk, startled and with his lips still parted, stares at her with awed, lovestruck eyes. She gazes back as though she is very, very unsure.

Oh no.

“Woah,” she breathes, then she is untwining her limbs from his broad figure and clasping her blushing face with something akin to embarrassment. Jeongguk would think it looks utterly adorable if the fear was not currently spiking his adrenaline. “Wow– That was– Oh. Geez. I’m so sorry–“

“Why are you apologising?” Jeongguk barely whispers, and he almost does not want to know the answer for the fear of her words shattering his feeble heart like a hammer taking to glass.

“I’m– What? I’m apologising because that– That was something I shouldn’t have done,” she stammers, then sighs, letting her hands fall into her lap and staring down at them. Jeongguk is frozen, his own palms still firm against her waist underneath the bunched up fleece. “It was out of line. We’re best friends. I mean, I could blame it on being drunk if I wanted to and we could forget all about it. But in all seriousness, I’ve wanted to do that for a while. It was a very sober decision–“

Jeongguk exhales, and it shudders reluctantly out of his lungs. “You’re not making sense.”

“Okay, fine, fuck it!” she suddenly shouts, and it makes him jump. Her voice echoes around the bathroom, and she looks up at him again, eyes overflowing with frightening determination. “Jeongguk. I like you, okay? There. I said it. I like you so much, and I get that saying this might fuck up our entire friendship but I really like you–“

He cuts her off with his mouth on her own and thinks: How were we this blind for so long?

This time, the kiss is brief, yet urgent. A sense of desperation hides in the corners of their mouths. Not searching for an answer, but out of the sheer desire touch one another, breathe one another after being oblivious for so long. Jeongguk begins to laugh, soft chuckles against her mouth that draw mystified, hopeful giggles from her own chest. The kissing becomes quite pointless, for they are simply smiling so wide out of the absolute ridiculousness that they could have been doing this for months, maybe even years, at this stage.

They were just too foolish and scared of losing the other. Yet none of that matters now.

“Is this you confessing back to me?” she mumbles, and there is so much delight dancing like starlight in her eyes that Jeongguk’s heart races. He pecks at her mouth once, twice, then moves to her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and her chin until she is laughing all over again and holy shit, Jeongguk is quite possibly too in love for somebody who was so firmly denying it no less than two hours ago.

“Something like that,” he hums, squeezing at her sides before slipping his hands out from underneath the hoodie so he can reach up and cup her face. There is something radiant bursting through his ribs. Most likely, his elated heart. “I think I love you. At this stage, for me at least, I feel like I love you. I thought I just loved you as a best friend, but it’s definitely more than that.”

“Oh thank god,” she grins, and he feels it against his palms. “I was going to say I love you instead of I like you, but I thought it might be too sudden and scare you away. So yeah, I love you too, asshole. Also, I’m still a bit tipsy.”

Jeongguk’s face feels as though it is going to split in half from smiling so hard. He tucks her hair behind her ears, dies a little on the inside at the fact that he can do that, and so much more, now that they have laid their cards on the table. Brushing his thumbs over her faintly blushing cheeks, he kisses her, and then says, “Really? Wanna go to bed?”

“Yes,” she sleepily nods, latching her limbs around him again like a starfish. “Onwards to my bed, O’ Noble Steed!”

“God. You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love, bitch.”

“Wow, there’s the best friend that I know. Thought I lost you.”

“Nope. You fell in love with this, so you’re stuck with this.”

Grin still plastered to his face, Jeongguk hooks his hands underneath her thighs and lifts her up, delighting in the way she giggles with glee in his ear. In navigating out of the bathroom and to her bedroom, he carries her towards all the light switches so she can flick them off. He kisses her cheek with every single one.

When they enter her bedroom, the overwhelming fragrance of her hits him like a shockwave. Even more so as he carefully lays her down on the bed and then tucks in behind her; the gentle, vanilla aroma lifting from the pillowcase. She rolls over to face him in the dark, and Jeongguk loops his arms around her waist so casually that anyone would think they have been doing this for years.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi,” he murmurs back, pressing his lips to the centre of her brow. At this rate, he believes he may never stop kissing her now that he has started.

Languidly, she blinks, and then mumbles, “This is real, right? I didn’t black out on cocktails, did I? I’m not just having some crazy, amazing dream?”

“Definitely real,” Jeongguk chuckles, pulling her closer. She cranes her neck, angling upwards to catch his mouth against her own, still tasting faintly of mint and pure, unadulterated joy. He licks at her bottom lip, and she groans, pulling away.

“Don’t do that. You’ll make me more horny.”

Jeongguk’s dick, in an act of betrayal, begins to stand to attention for the nth time that night.

“Y-You’re horny right now?” He clears his throat, swallows saliva down his suddenly very parched windpipe.

“Yeah, ’cos I’m still a little drunk,” she whines cutely, but it is nearly lost on Jeongguk. Because now all he can imagine is peeling her out of his hoodie and the boyshorts, seeing her lovely and bare, and then making her cry out his name with every fluid thrust inside of her.

“Fuck, now I’m kinda horny,” he mutters, and she cackles evilly.

“Are you hard?”

“Half,” Jeongguk admits, and she shifts so that she is propped up on her side by her elbow.

“Can I touch you? I’m too tired to jack you off but– I just want to, y’know, feel it,” she is smirking through the shadows and Jeongguk cannot roll the yes off his tongue fast enough.

Then, her small hand is on his dick, almost immediately causing it to swell to its full, erect size.

Jeongguk releases a tight exhalation that whistles between his teeth, draws soothing patterns on her back with his fingertips to try calm himself from potentially blowing his load right here and now. He cannot believe that he has dreamed of this more times than he can physically count on both hands, and now it is actually happening. Out of fear of disturbing the moment, he keeps his muscles locked. She stays rather silent as she feels around him through his sweatpants; gently squeezing his shaft, his balls, her thumb gliding smoothly over the head.

Then, she nods to herself. Her hand recedes, and Jeongguk feels the loss like a blade driving through his gut.

“I always thought it would be big after seeing your semi that one time, but this is quite impressive,” she very casually states while she lays back down, and Jeongguk’s heart stutters. He cannot decide whether it is torture or euphoria that he is experiencing right now. A concoction of the two, most likely, because 1. she thinks that he has a big dick, and yet 2. he refuses to drill it into her while she is still a few steps away from sober. He wants her head completely clear for that.

Instead, Jeongguk latches onto two of the words that she speaks, smirking himself as he says, “Always thought, huh?”

“Oh come on, you can’t say that you haven’t thought about my body, too!” she accuses good-naturedly, wriggling closer to him so that all of her curves and slopes press against him. His painfully hard dick nestles into her thigh. The desire to roll it against her spreads through him like wildfire. “I might’ve been drunker earlier, but don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at my cleavage like a man deprived. That shirt is a godsend for my tiny titties, right?”

“God, you have no fucking idea,” Jeongguk shamelessly admits, burying his face into her neck and softly biting the flesh there, shivering when she squirms. She is better than he could have ever imagined in all of her reactions to his touches, the sounds that she creates. So real. “That’s why I told you to get changed. I thought I was going to die.”

She threads her fingers through his hair, softly stroking the dark locks. “I’ll make sure to wear it more often then.”

“Well, here’s your cautionary warning that I probably won’t be able to hold myself back when you do. I don’t care where we are or who sees.”

“That’s hot,” she laughs, and then yawns. Jeongguk untucks himself from the nook of her shoulder, licks his lips, and presses a firm kiss to her mouth. When she moves her thigh to wrap around his own, it brushes against the head of his hard cock and he has to swallow down a needy moan.

“Sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?” He murmurs. “And we’ll fix this horniness problem. Also, side note: can I hold your ass?”

“Yup, go for it,” she hums, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his own. Jeongguk smooths his palms down her spine and then over the supple flesh of her ass, and lord, it honestly feels as fantastic as he had expected. He gingerly gives it a squeeze, and she makes a soft, appreciative sound that has all the blood rushing out of his head, leaving him lightheaded and so fucking in love that it hurts. Well, hurts his dick, for the most part.

The room fills with placid silence, yet his heart thrums loudly in his ears, keeping him awake. He focuses on the way her breathing begins to even out, and tries to match his own to her pace. Slowly; in through the nose, out through the mouth. The minutes pass, and Jeongguk feels his body become heavier, heavier, until he closes in on the soothing edge of unconsciousness.

She stirs.

“Jeonggukie.”

“Mmm.”

“I think I’m going to vomit again.”

Jeongguk has been woken up in numerous unusual ways. Being punched in the face is a first, and is quite possibly one of the more painful methods. Even if it was an accident as a result of somebody flailing too close for comfort.

“Ow– Jesus!” He squawks, immediately rolling onto his back and cupping his nose where the fist had made sharp contact.

When he opens his watering eyes, he notices that his best friend is looming over him with a very confused and very concerned expression. The sight of her as the first thing he sees when he awakes is not abnormal, for she has proven to be a much more efficient alarm than his own cell phone on numerous occasions. Even if her method this time around was unnecessarily more painful.

But it is the fact that her bedroom surrounds the both of them that throws him off. Because that must mean he is sleeping in her bed. And why on Earth–

Oh.

That’s right. They confessed. They kissed. Jeongguk fell asleep with his hands on her beautiful ass after holding her hair back while she threw up a second time.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, a sleepy half-smile beginning to tilt his lips.

That is, until she very bluntly says, “What are you doing in my bed?”

The smile immediately vacates his expression, and he suddenly feels as though he has fallen off a cliff face and is plummeting through the air. Jeongguk’s voice trembles in the back of his throat as he quietly says, “What do you mean?”

“Why are you in my bed?” she questions him again, and Jeongguk thinks he is literally about to be sick. “Oh! That’s right. You came to the bar, didn’t you? Jesus. Did we get that drunk again that we ended up crashing in my bed together?” She shakes her head. “I bet it was like last time when we passed out in your bed after that frat party. You remember the one, right? Where we had a full-blown argument over pineapple on pizza–“

Jeongguk swiftly scrambles upright and out of the bed, his chest feeling tight in the worst possible way. Did he genuinely dream everything that occurred last night? Did none of it actually happen? Or was she drunker than he initially thought and she has completely forgotten everything that occurred?

“Don’t you remember, ___?” He whispers, and his voice cracks.

She tilts her head to the side. The sunlight filters through the bedroom window, casting her in a sheen of gold, and she looks so unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly gorgeous that Jeongguk feels something in his chest begin to splinter.

“Remember what?” she says, utterly clueless, and Jeongguk casts his eyes to the ground, confused and hurt beyond belief.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, starting towards the door. He cannot completely comprehend what is happening right now, but he knows that something is definitely off because he swears on his heart that it was not a dream. She was real. Her warm mouth shaped against his own was real. Her voice wrapping around the words ‘I love you’ was very, very real; he knows that he could never imagine such a confession so vividly–

Behind him, she bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Oh my god. Jeongguk, you’re more gullible than a dog running to fetch the ball that its owner pretended to throw!”

He whips his head around, eyes as wide as Jupiter. “W-What?”

“I remember what happened, dumbass. Everything. I kissed you in the bathroom, we confessed our undying feelings for one another, I touched your dick, yadda yadda.” She crawls across the bed until she is kneeling before him, carefully reaching up to clasp his face between her palms and Jeongguk is torn between wanting to beat her with a pillow or kiss her senseless. Huh, he supposes this is what angry sex must be all about. “Was I really that convincing?”

He closes his eyes, furrows his brow. His mind is still suffering from the sudden whiplash, and is now doused in liquid fury. “I’m honestly going to fucking kill you.”

“I love you too,” she placates him, rising up to tentatively kiss him. He cuttingly stares at her half-lidded gaze as she dusts tiny pecks to his unmoving lips until he finally caves through the simmering anger and gives in to her, flicking his tongue out to meet her own. Carefully, as if she is unsure whether he will tear her head off or not at the slightest misjudgement, she begins to travel her mouth down his jaw, mumbling, “I’m sorry, that was mean of me.”

“I genuinely thought for a moment there that I must’ve had the wildest lucid dream,” he mutters, settling his hands on her ribs and angling his head to the side so that she has easier access. “But I feel like I could’ve never imagined the sight, nor stench of regurgitated cheesy ramyeon with such disgustingly intense clarity.”

She chuckles, quietly apologising again, and the exhalation of it on his skin raises the hairs on his nape. She reaches the under of his jawline, plush lips coming into contact with an especially sensitive spot on his neck, and an involuntary moan escapes him when the light suck of her teeth sends shivers down his spine.

Jeongguk can feel the curve of her languid, wicked grin instantly forming against his skin.

“Instead of fucking killing me, how about you fuck me to my grave?” she suggests, and her tone is too saccharine around such filthy words. Unbearable enough to bolster his morning wood to its full capacity, even when the flame of rage from her awful joke is still dying out.

“You’re insane,” Jeongguk chuckles despite himself, and she leans back, divine smile still intact.

“Insanely horny after keeping my sexual frustrations for you locked up in my body for roughly a year now? Yes,” she confirms with finger guns and a wink. He shakes his head out of incredulity. “And, I do believe I have a dick to blow to say thank you for last night. And also to say sorry for scaring you just now.”

“Baby, I don’t think you realise this yet but if we’re really a thing now, then you’re going to be sucking my dick for a whole month to pay me back for the past twelve hours.” Jeongguk sighs, running his hand through his hair and then down his face. His heart soars from the way her expression meekly transforms at the sudden nickname. “I’m going to have to start a fucking tally.”

“Well,” she hums, slips her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, and Jeongguk becomes lightheaded, “consider this strike number one, baby.”

The way she says it melts him down like candle wax, and he cannot help but tackle her onto the bed, grinning at her surprised squeal that is soon suffocated by his lips. Jeongguk knows that they have all morning for this. That he can take his time to explore her body in all of its magnificence until he can perfectly map it out in his mind, can understand the raw shape of her, what glorious noises she makes when he touches her, and what specific places on her being elicit them. He mouths his way down her throat, catches the blissful sigh as it releases from her lungs into the early morning, and then detaches so he can sit back and look at her, straddled beneath him.

Jeongguk entwines her hands with his own and slowly draws them above her head. She simpers, her half-lidded, glassy eyes flooded with unadulterated desire, cast in golden sunlight that makes her appear unbelievably ethereal. He slides his palms to her wrists, leans down so that his lips hover just above her own, gazes right at her and thanks his lucky stars for gracing him with an embodiment of themselves in the form of a girl so radiant that she blinded him; enough, that he could not recognise the love cooped up in her eyes until she spoke it.

He murmurs, “___, I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Even if you destroy my savings account and eat the most repulsive meal known to humankind. You’re my best friend, and I want to escalate our best friendship to ‘best-friends-who-fuck-each-other-and-are-ridiculously-in-love’. What do you think?”

“Well, I love you too,” she smiles, her eyes flicking between his own, a glint of mischief hiding underneath the flutter of her eyelashes. “And I completely approve of such an upgrade. Partly because I cannot even express how long I’ve wanted to hold your hand and tell the world that you’re my boyfriend, and partly because I really want to blow you while you play video games.”

There, the realisation drives straight through Jeongguk’s heart. And his dick.

Ah, silver lining.

Note | I just wanted to write about Jeongguk’s phone vibrating against his balls. That is all. I have also never played Overwatch, so if any of the references are incorrect, I apologise. Thank you all for reading, liking, and reblogging this fun and silly little piece. I would love to hear your thoughts on it! ♡

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook fanfics #bts fan fiction #jeon jungkook #extra cheese please #ecp #/ vomit #/ alcohol #vankoya #gukvory

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im-a-peanut-bar · 6 years

Text

111. “Delete it. Now.”

Requested by @thiamlife

Also can be found on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13645203?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_149505330

Liam felt like an idiot just laying in his bed with the blankets pulled up to his chest as his thoughts prevented him from sleeping. Damn gay thoughts were keeping him up every night for the past few weeks. He couldn’t help it, his mind just kept going back to thinking about Theo. The way the chimera kept him grounded and sane, the way he looked when he genuinely smiled, the way his laugh sounded when he found even the stupidest of things funny. He was falling for the chimera...hard. Feelings like this were to tough to avoid, especially when said person lived in the same house and was two doors down from his bedroom. He really hoped Theo couldn’t hear his heartbeat and the way it pounded uncontrollably. Why did Theo have to do this to him? He groaned as he glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 3 a.m. You’ve got to be joking. Liam was gonna be running on E all day if he didn’t go to bed now. He rolled to his side glancing at the wall before forcing his eyes closed. This was good all he had to do was relax and not think about… he blinked his eyes open with huff. This wasn’t working, being overly tired made it even harder for him to control his thoughts.

He sat up suddenly reaching for his phone. He read somewhere that writing down your thoughts helped get rid of them. Like writing your emotions in a letter and then setting it on fire. Apparently burning the words would make the feelings fade too and at this point Liam was fucking desperate. He didn’t feel like getting up to physically write a letter so he was gonna type it and delete it. Simple solution to his ongoing problem. He just needed to get the feelings off his chest. Liam’s fingers hovered over the screen, opening his text messages before he began typing.

~I love you, Theo. There I said it, well more like typed it, but same thing. It’s out there now. No longer trapped inside my head. You’ve been driving me crazy, you know? Constantly on my mind. You say I never stop thinking, well guess what? This time it’s your fault asshole. I mean how is it even possible to be that good looking. You look like you were carved from fucking marble or sculpted by God himself. Yeah I know “I’m an atheist you dumbass” but still like that shit’s not fair. It’s not even just your looks (I mean Damn) but it’s your personality too. Like you're smart, incredibly smart. Sure at first you didn’t use your brains for the best of reasons, but you are still friggin observant and intelligent it’s crazy. I also like how sarcastic you are. When you're being a wise ass you get this smirk on your face, like you think you're the most hilarious person in the world. Did you know you do that? I act like I hate it, but I really don’t. Not to mention you deal with me all the time. You are the one person who doesn’t treat me like a ticking time bomb. You don’t make me feel like I’m a monster. You are always there for me, you calm me, anchor me. Who knew out of all the people in the world you’d be the one to keep me sane. I should thank you for that. I don’t think I ever have. You’ve saved my ass so many times and I don’t think I ever told you how much I appreciated it. I probably wouldn’t be living if it wasn’t for you. I don’t know when it happened exactly, but all I know is I fell hard and fast. So friggin hard that I’m writing a full on novel about my mushy feelings at 3 in the morning. You know what the worst part is? I can’t even fit everything I want to say in this message. You know I’m not good with words. Its now 3:30 in the morning and I’ll leave with this final note, you deserve to be loved Theo. I know you don’t think you do, but you really do even if its not with me. And I hope one day you feel that way too, I hope you find someone that shows you what happiness is. I hope you find someone who makes you smile. You should really smile more, it’s beautiful.~

Liam let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as he looked down at his phone screen. Was it possible for him to feel worse than he did before? Writing out his feelings made him realize how much he truly cared for Theo and it hurt because he was too chicken to do anything about it. He closed his eyes letting out a sigh as he tapped the screen to clear the message.

He went to go turn off his phone screen when he saw the love confession he wrote Theo in a bright green bubble. Green meant sent, GREEN MEANT SENT. Liam’s eyes widened as his heart pounded in his chest. “No no no no no.” he tapped at the screen, but there was nothing he could do. The message sent, he was to late. He did the one thing he could think of, he facetimed Mason.

The phone rang for a few seconds before connecting with his best friend. The image of a tired and unamused Mason greeting him. “Liam do I even want to know why-”

“I fucked up.” Liam cut him off as he ran his fingers through his hair nervously.

“What could you have possibly fucked up on at 4 in the morning?” Mason asked as he sat up, realizing that this conversation was probably going to need his undivided attention.

“You know how they say to write all your feelings out in a letter and then burn it to get rid of those feelings. Well I did that, only with a text message. I typed all of my feelings out in a long ass paragraph with the expectation of deleting the message before anyone could see it. I thought it would help me feel better because my gay thoughts are keeping me up at night and I haven’t slept in days.”

Mason didn’t know if it was his still half asleep brain or not, but Liam was rambling and incredibly hard to follow. “You wrote out a text message to get rid of gay thoughts?” he questioned raising his eyebrow.

“Yes! I wrote it all out, telling Theo all about my feelings.” Liam whispered as he fidgeted with the blanket.

“Okay and?”

“And I sent it.”

“You sent it?!” Mason spoke a little too loudly for what time it currently was.

“Will you shut up? I don’t want all of Beacon Hills to know.” Liam groaned hiding his face in hands. “I wasn’t supposed to send it obviously. I meant to delete it, but I was tired and not thinking straight-”

“Well, I mean you definitely weren’t thinking straight.” Mason teased earning a pretty intense glare from Liam. “Sorry, sorry. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” he tried to comfort his best friend.

“I told him I thought he looked like he was carved from fucking marble Mason.”

“Oh my god.” Mason snorted.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Liam groaned as he tried to think of ways to erase his existence.

Mason being Liam’s best friend knew just how much he was panicking. “I’m guessing me saying just wait to see what he says isn’t going to fly with you?” he asked and Liam’s gaze immediately went back to the phone. Expression reading ‘what the hell do you think?’ Mason should have figured Liam wouldn’t want Theo to read it. He didn’t know what else Liam had confessed to Theo besides his perfect structure, but he assumed there was plenty more embarrassing things in the message. He sighed looking over at the clock before turning his attention back to his phone. “Why don’t you just steal his phone and delete the message before he reads it?” Mason suggested.

“What?”

“Liam its almost 5 in the morning, Theo is probably still asleep like a normal person. Just take his phone and delete it. The evidence will be gone and Theo will have no knowledge of you feelings towards him.” Mason clarified. All he really wanted to do was go to bed and pretend this conversation never happened.

“Oh my god Mason, You’re a genius! I’ll talk to you later” Liam replied muttering a quick thank you before hanging up. He dropped his phone on the bed and quickly rushed out of his bedroom, quietly heading towards the guest bedroom. He slowly opened the door, cringing when it squeaked slightly. He peeked inside and saw Theo still fast sleep, with his phone resting on the night stand beside the bed. This was his chance, he could do this. He walked into the room, holding his breath so not even him inhaling would wake the chimera. He was a few inches from the night stand, when the floor creaked beneath his feet. He glared down at the hardwood floors, even going as far as to flip it off. Because if sneaking into his crush’s room at five in the morning wasn’t crazy enough sending the hardwood floors a silent fuck you definitely was.

“Liam?” Theo’s raspy voice filled the air as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What are you doing?”

If Liam wasn’t currently in the most awkward situation of his life he would have taken time to appreciate just how attractive a just woken up Theo was, but at the moment he just wanted to curl up into a ball until he vanished. “I uh… my phones not working so I need to use yours.”

“You need to use my phone at...5 in the morning?” Theo furrowed his brow as reached over towards the bedside table. Theo’s hand was inches away from the phone and Liam didn’t think he just acted, as he quickly slapped Theo’s hand away. “Ow! What the shit Liam?”

“You were going to touch your phone.” Liam replied quickly making Theo look at him like he had two heads.

“No, I was reaching over to turn on the light. But even if I was, it’s my phone. I’m allowed to touch it.” Theo retorted wondering if Liam realized just how weird he was being.

“You can’t!” Liam shouted panicking when he saw Theo actually reaching for his phone this time. Liam realized Theo's silences was an invitation to continue. “I uh I sent you a message and don’t want you to see it, it wasn’t meant for you.”

“Okay? Is that it. It can’t be that bad of a message.” Theo chuckled, stopping when he saw the look on the beta’s face. “Oh god Dunbar, don’t tell me you accidentally sent me a dick pic.”

“What?! NO” Liam shrieked voice going shockingly high as his face turned a bright shade of red.

“See then it’s nothing bad.” Theo spoke as he grabbed the phone. “Let’s see what the little beta sent me.” he teased with a smirk.

“Delete it. Now.” Liam demanded going to reach for the phone again, only for Theo to move it out of reach. “Damn it Theo, just let me delete it.” he whined as he tried to grab the phone again. A few minutes later and things quickly turned into a full out wrestling match. Liam was wrapped around Theo’s back the chimera’s elbow painfully digging into his ribs. “Give me the fucking phone.” he growled. The only reply Theo gave him was another painful jab in the ribs.

“OW! Did you- Did you just fucking bite me?!” Theo shouted when he felt Liam’s teeth latch on to his shoulder. “Just because you don’t get what you want doesn’t mean you get to bite people like a goddamn dog.”

“If you would have given me the phone-”

“It’s my phone!” Theo yelled back earning a painful pinch in the arm. That damn asshole used his fucking claws too. “I can’t believe I actually love you back! What kind of idiot am I?!” the chimera shouted just in time for Liam to slap the phone out of his hand making it land on the ground with a loud thud.

“You what?” Liam froze. Maybe his heart pounding in his ears made him mishear the chimera.

“I said I love you too, you jerk.” Theo restated with a sigh as he laid back on the bed with an exhausted sigh.

“You do?”

“Yes Liam I do. I read your message a few minutes after you sent it.” Theo muttered as he glanced over at the beta who was no longer clinging to him. “I was just going to wait until the morning to talk you about because bothering you at such an ungodly hour seemed rude of me.” Theo deadpanned.

“You didn’t think about telling me that before I smacked the phone out of your hand?” Liam asked failing to hold back the smile on his face, the ridiculousness of this situation finally hitting him.

“I honestly didn’t think it was going to turn out this way. I really should have known better.” Theo replied his own smile mirroring Liam’s. “Dude we are so fucked up.” He laughed shaking his head fondly.

“That’s what makes us, us.” Liam said softly as he reached for Theo’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Looking at Theo with a grin.

“Yeah it is.” Theo smiled back at him. Was this how he thought he was going to confess his feelings to Liam? No, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m sorry about your phone.” Liam apologized as he leaned closer to Theo, resting his head on the chimera’s chest.

“It’s fine, I forgive you” Theo replied as he wrapped his arm around Liam, pulling him closer. “But only because you think I look like I was carved from marble.” He teased.

“Oh god I should have known you wouldn’t let that go.” Liam groaned hiding his face in Theo’s neck.

“Afraid you’re never gonna live that one down little wolf.”

#teen wolf #thiam #fanfic #oneshot

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addicted-to-dc · 7 years

Text

Damian Wayne/ Robin X Reader- Murder Kitten

After this post, there will only be 2 requests left!! Yay!!!!! Also, this was requested by @abigailredgrave, who requests some pretty awesome stuff!!! I hope you guys enjoy this and have a nice day!!!! If I am counting this right, THIS IS MY ONE HUNDREDTH FANFIC!!!! YYYAAYYY!!!

Warning: Swearing

Gotham was full of geniuses, but some of them were psychotic. Psychologists say genius is related to mental illness, hell, even being crazy, but that’s why you keep it to yourself. Most intelligent people either were like that or had disabilities. The Riddler was an excellent example, but that would be too simple. It bugged you to know that people don’t understand what’s underneath the super villain and superhero label slapped onto their foreheads, to not understand what their motivations were and what caused them to resort to crime. Mister Freeze, or Doctor Victor Fries, resorted to crime to save his wife from an incurable disease. You understood why his efforts were stopped by heroes like Batman. He harmed innocent people, and that was not what society allowed. Even if the people he harmed were corrupt, their influence would allow them to get away with almost anything. Poison Ivy, or Pamela Isley, was a botanist who took Eco-terrorism too seriously. You also agreed that something should be done to protect the Earth and the life it supported, but not as much as she did. Most of the people labeled ‘Villains’ were geniuses, but they just used their brains the wrong way.

Luckily for you, you weren’t like them at all. Sure, maybe you agreed with their ideas, but the less extreme versions. You agreed that the human race needed to stop harming the planet, but not by human extinction. Humans are capable of using renewable energy to support their electronic needs, but of course they won’t do it. Cures could be made if scientists would focus on the diseases rather than focusing on biological warfare and creating new heroes. Humans would be a greater race if they would band together and stop the fighting, but you knew that it would take a long time for that to happen. People want to have a Utopia where everything would work out, there would be no war, and everyone would be equal, but there are some who are the complete opposite. There are people who want the be the superior race with all of the power, who think their self-interests are more important than the lives of others. The Earth’s past clearly displays that there will always be someone who does not see others as their equals, including the pompous asshats who enjoy to pester and bully you whenever you step foot on Gotham Academy’s grounds.

It’s not like your intelligence went unnoticed in the halls of Gotham Academy. You spent less than half of the day at the Academy taking classes, and the rest at Gotham University. Your teachers were surprised to see you, a 16 year-old, have a higher IQ than them. After that, you were taking classes that college students could barely understand. Out of all of the classes you took, Psychology and Criminology were your favorites. It was fascinating to learn what the human mind was capable of, and you used that to your advantage. It was annoying that the Academy still required you to take electives, but you only had to take them this year, and after that you’d be able to go to college with a full ride. It was easier said than done, but that didn’t mean you had to go through it alone. Most of the students thought you were insane, but you simply understood the world more than them. Even your humor was based upon it, but not everyone appreciated it nor understood it. You based most of your jokes on the superheroes and super villains of the world, and knew the identities of most of them.

“Okay, class, today is your final grade for the year,” Mrs. Merz stated calmly. “You are going to finish making your improved cake recipes for the baking competition. Since the Seniors are not here, you’ll be a bit understaffed, but since you prepared your dry ingredients yesterday, you’ll have plenty of time to bake your cakes.”

Turning over to your partner, Damian Wayne, you asked, “Did you bring the decorations?”

“TT. Of course I brought them,” Damian answered, gesturing to the bag near his feet. “I still do not understand why we decided on the ‘Willy Wonka’ theme for this cake.”

You rolled your eyes and tied the apron around your waist, “This is supposed to be dessert, and Willy Wonka specializes in desserts. Most of the imbeciles in this class are doing a superhero theme or something idiotic like the beach theme Tyler and his posse are making.”

Damian scowled and put his apron on, “I do detest them.”

“Yes, and their cake has more capsaicin in it than Batman’s smoke bombs,” you said and placed your improved recipe on the counter. “They did not even test their recipe out at home.”

Damian smirked, “Not like you did.”

You scoffed, “Unlike them, I actually enjoy this class and plan on getting good grades.”

“Also, they do not have your cunning intelligence and wonderful personality,” Damian inputted while placing the dry ingredients into a bowl. “They have no respect for anyone but themselves, maybe the occasional harlot that they have relations with, but mostly themselves.”

“I agree with that,” you said while looking at the recipe and pulling out more bowls and measuring cups. “I’m going to go get the liquid ingredients. While I do this, can you prepare the dry ingredients for the frosting?”

“Of course I can.”

————————————

“Ow!” you shouted, placing your burnt finger under cold water. “That’s hotter than Superman’s heat vision.”

“How would you know that?” Damian asked, stirring the raspberry frosting.

“Have you ever heard the wonders of over exaggeration?” you asked, still running the cold water on your finger. “Technically, if I had a piece of debris that Superman cut with his heat vision, I could tell how many degrees it would be.”

“You are full of many surprises, (Y/L/N),” Damian said and placed the bowl on the counter. “Do you want me to take the cake out of the oven? I think I can do it without burning myself.”

“I didn’t know the oven mitt was wet,” you muttered and gave him the other mitt, which was dry.

“Of course you didn’t,” Damian said and lifted the chocolate cake out of the oven.

You rolled your eyes and shut the faucet off when the pain in your finger died down, “Everyone makes mistakes, so stop bickering with me and criticize everyone’s cakes as ours cools off.”

Damian rolled his eyes and took the mitt off, tossing it onto the counter, “Fine.”

———————

“Their cake is greener than Poison Ivy,” you said while making a disgusted face. “I did not see them add any green food coloring either.”

“Tyler’s cake is supposed to be grape, but it’s bluer than Mr. Freeze’s ass,” you stated, shuddering at the thought. “Do you think his skin is baby blue or icy blue?”

“Why is this relevant?” Damian asked, poking at the cake to see if it was cool enough to start decorating.

You shrugged, “You know that my humor is mostly based on superheroes and supervillains, so answer the question already.”

“I believe it would be lighter than Icy Blue,” Damian admitted. “The cake is ready.”

————————

“Damian, I need you to do something for me.”

Damian stopped sparring with Dick, looking over to his father with confusion, “What is it?”

“Come over to the Bat Computer and I will show you,” Bruce said, turning his chair around.

Dick gave Damian a puzzled look before following him over to the Bat Computer, frowning when he saw your photos on the screen.

“Why do you have (Y/N) on the screen, Bruce?” Dick asked with a puzzled expression. “I’ve seen her around the college and the only terrible thing about her is her corny superhero jokes.”

Bruce rose a brow, clicking on a video file attached to your own file. “You’ve got Teen Titans, Young Justice, and the Justice League. Whats next? Toddlers of titanium?”

“What do you call an actress whose dress goes up in flames? Starfire.”

“I’m gonna wonder woman spin my way out of this.”

“I bet Aquaman hates Spongebob.”

“Robin’s mask literally only covers a fourth of his face, how has nobody recognized him yet! At least batman covers half of his!“

“Who the hell hides themselves behind a pair of glasses and a bitch curl-ooohh..”

“That pair of pants has more pockets than Batman’s utility belt.”

The last video showed you messing around with your glasses, taking them on and off saying: "Look I’m Superman! Wait, now I’m not!”

By the end of the clip, Dick was laughing while holding his stomach, which made Bruce give him an unamused expression. Damian read over your file and noticed that you went to the same school he did, but you go to Gotham University for most of your classes.

“She obviously knows Clark’s identity,” Bruce stated, returning his attention to the screen, “and has a high IQ. Damian, I want to see how much she knows, and if she’ll be a threat or not.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce!” Dick said, throwing his arms up into the air. “(Y/N) might know our secret identities, but do you realize who you’re talking about?”

“Yes I do,” Bruce responded, “which is why I think Damian would be the perfect person to befriend her, and find out if she can be trusted.”

“I can handle it,” Damian stated. “It is common knowledge that (Y/L/N) does not have any friends at the school, and she will be hesitant, but I’m sure I will figure something out.”

“Good, because our identities are at risk.”

———————–

“So, Sherlock, are you gonna do it or what?!?!” Tyler shouted, waving his homework in front of your face. “Or do I have to make you do it?!”

“You know, when you call me Sherlock, you’re admitting that I am smarter than you,” you smirked, not even flinching when his fist met the locker to the left of your face.

“Shut it, Watson!! If you’re not gonna do it, I’m going to kick the shit out of you, you insane freak!” he threatened.

You scoffed, “'If you’re going to insult me stick to one character per show.”

“That’s it!!” Tyler shouted, raising his fist.

Just as it was going to meet your face, Tyler was pulled away from you and thrown onto the ground. You looked over to find Damian glaring at Tyler.

“If you ever touch her again, I swear I will-”

“Okay, Murder Kitten, I think we should get to class before we’re late,” you interrupted, grasping Damian’s hand before he murdered Tyler.

“TT, I wasn’t going to murder him,” Damian grumbled.

“Judging by your posture and feral look in your eyes, that’s a lie.”

#Damian Wayne #older!damian #imagine damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin #robin x reader #robin imagine #dc x reader #dc comics imagine #dc imagine #dc #dc comcis

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str-spangled-banner · 7 years

Text

1769 - Steve x Reader

Summary: You’re an Avenger by the name Anima, whose powers are immortality and invulnerability. You’re on a mission with a few from the team when your abilities are put to a test.

Warnings: Light swearing, light violence.

Words: +2 900

A/N: Please request! I’m up for writing just about anyting! Also, this is my first writing on this blog so please go easy on me :)))))))))

Truth be told, I quite like the thrill of warfare. Call me damaged and psychotic all you want, but there’s something about it that gets me riled up like nothing else. Perhaps it’s the patriotism in me igniting for fighting for my country? Perhaps it’s the built up rage being relieved by punching a few bad guys in the face? Perhaps it’s the fact that I know I won’t fall on the battlefield? I can’t really put a finger on the reason as to why I enjoy it so much. Maybe I am a lunatic? I don’t think I’d know if I were one. Lunacy tends to shield itself rather well from the person it possess. Let’s just say I wouldn’t be surprised if a doctor went on to tell me I was medically mad. The amount of bloodbaths I’ve gone through with a smile on my face are too many to count on my both hands.

“Y/N?” Steve called out as he looked across the Quinjet from his seat to mine, a crease carved between his brows. “We lost you there for a second.”

Had they? I didn’t realize I had been so deep in my daydreaming. "Sorry, just memorizing the Declaration of Independence in my head.” She made fun of the Captain of the America who always rolled his eyes at her nationalistic comments.

“I was going over the plan. Are you okay with being ground-bound on the west side? According to the little intel we have, that’s the side that’s the most guarded area of the premises. Lang and I will head for the center to get the files while Romanoff and Barton guard the entrance. All you need to focus on is the-”

“Bomb, yes, I got it.” She saluted only to receive yet another eye-roll.

“I hate to interrupt, but am I the only one worried that this bomb might go off? Who says it’s not an atomic bomb? We could put a big hole in the middle of Canada’s map here.” Scott said, anxiously looking between the group of five who had been assigned the mission to infiltrate the newly created Hydra facility in the middle of the cold, harsh Northwest Territories.

“It’s not atomic and it won’t blow up. If it does however, I can’t promise that I’ll go to your funeral.” She leaned her head back casually and shut her eyes to rest for a moment.

“Oh- oh you douche. That’s a low blow.” Scott whined.

“Stop it, both of you. This is a serious mission that we have in front of us. Hydra have never had a permanent structure this close to America before. If I were you, I’d take this a little more seriously. God knows what they’re up to out here.” Steve lectured before his eyes trailed out the window to the seemingly endless forests spreading out beneath them. He remained staring out for a while with an empty look in his eyes before returning his focus to within the aircraft. “How far off are we?”

“T minus 2 minutes, according to this shitty GPS system Tony upgraded to.” Natasha informed from her seat in the cockpit.

"You know I’m on the line, right?“ Tony’s voice erupted into everyone’s earpiece. ”Talk shit about my equipment agin and you might just have to use your own.“

"I’ll happily do that anyway. Hell, even the GPS on my phone is better than this.”

“Stop!” Steve repeated, louder and more urgently this time. I looked at him and could see the worry in his eyes which was an unsettling sight. The whole mission was really setting him on edge. Hydra had been his arch nemesis since day one as Captain America. Maybe she didn’t know everything about them, but as far as her knowledge stretched, Hydra had never left Europe in this way before, not by settling down at least. Maybe she was too uneducated about the subject to even assume how things had been and how they were, but Steve really seemed to dislike that they were so close this time around.

“We’re approaching.” Natasha broke the short silence which had filled up the Quinjet awkwardly. “I don’t know how high tech these guys are, but if they have radars, we’ve been on them for a couple of minutes at least.”

“Right. Just prepare for drop-off and we’ll handle things as we go. Y/L/N, you’re up first.” Steve ordered and I simply nodded. I unbuckled and stood up, looking down on my black and grey suit with imbedded with hundreds of vibranium disks, making it flexible yet damage-safe of incoming projectiles of as good as any kind. I slid my finger across the keypad by the back and the mechanism to the door began to buzz as the hanger lowered. Air whirled inside violently and wipped my ponytail around my neck to my throat and I narrowed my eyes as I observed the ground that no longer was so far beneath us. There was straight road which cut through the forest, leading up to the Hydra outpost with at least four guard towers along its way that I could see. No doubt there were more around the facility itself.

“Ready for drop off?” Clint, who had been silent for the hour prior, called back to make sure I was good to go. I held up a thumbs up, and on cue, the jet slowed down and steadied whilst hovering in the air.

I exhaled deeply before turning my back to the open back of the aircraft and closing my eyes again, feeling the wind grab onto my snug attire as I let myself fall backwards. As I continued to fall I peaked my eyes open, seeing the Quinjet flying across the grounds to where Steve and Scott would be dropped off. As a couple of seconds passed, I arched my back and raised my arms above my head skillfully until my body swung around in the air and aimed with my feet down. Only a split second went by before I landed with a ground breaking thud, literally. I would like to think that I timed the turn due to skill, but knowing myself it was most likely because of coincidence.

As I stood there, thanking higher forces that I had spared myself from an embarrassing landing with my whole back facing down, bullets began to pepper at my side. I slowly turned towards their source only to find three Hydra soldiers brutally shouting as they did little to none in damage. As they began to realize that themselves, their facial features turned from offensive to defensive and their open fire ceased until none existent.

“I already hate you guys…” I couldn’t help but mumble as I picked up speed with the three soldiers in my sight. In panic, they opened fire again. Bullets rained down on me like a goddamn, tropical storm and I could feel them ricochet off of both my armor and my skin. When I finally reached them, I grabbed a hold of one and threw him over the two others, knocking them all to the ground. They tried to scramble to their feet but before they could I held one of their rifles in my hand and grabbed the end of the barrel.

“Don’t…” I used the weapon as a golf club and hit the head of one of the men, knocking him out. “Be…” I hit another. “Dicks!” I hit the end of the weapon in the head of the remaining soldier and let it go afterwards, the rifle flying down the cliffs which began shortly outside of the fence surrounding the premises.

“Language.” Steve commented into my earpiece and I couldn’t help but let out a long groan.

“Don’t you start with that again.” I warned him, not in the mood to have my profanity pointed out. As the line remained silent after that I grabbed the two rifles left on the ground before I continued my way inside. I put my free hand into the net fencing and tore it apart, creating a hole large enough for me to enter through. A soldier patrolling on the roof of the concrete structure opened fire and I took one of the rifles in my hand and threw it like a dart, knocking the soldier to the ground like someone had slapped a fly with a flapper.

“Tell me when you got eyes on your target, Anima.” It was Steve again, and my focus was pulled from reality upon hearing him call me by my superhero name, or whatever I was. He never used it, never used any of the names we all were called. I can’t honestly tell if I like it or not. I can’t tell in what way he said it either. Unemotionally and negatively, or motivationally and inspiringly?

“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t think of a witty answer. A few soldiers had rushed out upon hearing the shooting and fired at my head and upper body, a few bad shots hitting my legs and the ground behind me. “Could you not?” I turned towards them. As they didn’t as much as stutter in their attack, I took the last rifle and threw it towards them. They flew back into the wall beside the door where they had exited and unconsciously sagged to the ground into a pile.

Anima was not something I came up with myself, but I did allow it to stick around. Originally it had been Peter’s idea. When I first became part of the team, months after things had settled after their civil dispute, a late night in the Stark Tower after an all too long party, a rather tipsy Tony insisted that I should have a superhero name. I had refused at first but everyone else had liked Tony’s idea and before I knew it, Peter had names me after the Latin word for life. It grew in the team and I didn’t really argue about the naming, so it stuck. Now, that A clings onto the upper parts of my suit like an emblem I should be proud to wear, which I actually kind of am.

I was inside before I knew it but things didn’t exactly looked how my mind had pictured. There was a huge room like that of a hangar, a few cars in one end and a dozen of guards surrounding my obvious target in the very center. They opened fire, just like all their coworkers, and I pushed forwards in their peppering ammunition.

“God that’s loud.” Clint commented on the line, referring to noise from my end.

“I’ve tried to tell them to stop a few times now but it seems they don’t want to listen.” I replied as I reached the men. They tried to engage in hand to hand combat instead but I began to knock out one by one slowly but surely. As my focus was on grabbing a guy from the floor and toss him down the large room, a crash filled my left ear as I felt a poke at my cheek. I turned my head around just in time to see the shards of a knife fall to the floor, a soldier standing with its handle by my head where he had attempted to pierce it.

“Did- did you just try to stab me, in the face?” I questioned him, watching the blood drain from his own face in absolute horror. “Do you know how much I like my face?!” I grabbed hold of his body armor and slammed him down to the ground. His helmet pushed up over his forehead but he was still able to see. “Did you seriously think I’d let you get away with that?”

I waited, gave him time to come up with some kind of an answer, but as he began to whimper in fear and rattle like a dry leaf in the wind, I used my head against his own to juggernaut his ass to sleep. I rose to my feet, eyes locking onto the bomb centered in the great hall when I noticed the small screen on it, my limbs numbing upon realization.

“Fuck!” My hands reflexively went to my head to pull at my hair, but it was tightly kept back and I felt my hands drop to my sides.

“Lang-”

“It has a timer!” I interrupted Steve, definitely not in the mood to be scolded cause of my language. “The bomb has a fucking timer on two minutes!”

“What?” It was Natasha, not wanting to believe what I was saying.

“One minute fifty seconds! There are no buttons on it, no wires. I can’t disarm it!” I could feel my breaths becoming shallow, my heart racing inside my chest. I’ve never been worried about dying, simply because I can’t, but everyone I know doesn’t have the blessing in a curse of being immortal and invulnerable. The blast radius of the bomb could be the size of the room it was in, but most likely it would wipe out the entire base and then some. Hell, even what Scott said about it being an atomic one seemed plausible when the timer was ticking down right before my very own eyes.

“Scott, you need to get to Y/N and get inside the bomb. We need to disarm it..” Steve ordered and I just shook my head, not caring that no one was around to see me do it.

“There’s no time! I’m improvising.” I watched as the timer went past one minute as I picked it up, cradling the cylindric piece of metal in my arms. I could hear Steve yell something about not doing anything stupid through my earpiece, but frankly, I couldn’t care less of what he had to say. I was holding a bomb and god knows how much it’ll take down with it if it goes off. I emerged from the door I had entered through, almost tripping over the soldiers still hanging around outside. I began to turn the corner when more billets began to rain down and I threw myself back to the safety of the wall. That way was a no go, so to the left it was.

I walked around the other corner of the extended part of the facility, a clearing which seemed to be a landing area for helicopters and such expanding before me. I glanced down at the bomb, seeing that the timer was down to forty already. “I’m north west of my drop-off point and I really need you guys not to come here right now.” I said as I came to the middle of the landing platform, kneeling to the ground with the bomb resting against my thighs.

“Y/N, I see you.” It was Steve. I looked up only to see him and Scott further away, far enough so that I couldn’t see their faces properly. “Don’t do this. We don’t know if you’ll survive!”

“Get back, Captain!” I called out, probably audible physically as well as over the intercom. “I walked around Hiroshima the day after the bomb dropped. I kissed a guy who died of the plague, whilst he was kissing me! I’ll be fine!”

“You’ve never contained a bomb before, you stubborn idiot! Drop it and run!” Steve truly begged now.

I looked down towards the timer, seeing it count down to ten. I took long breaths, feeling my body relax as I cradled over the bomb and covered as much of it as I could, a smile spreading on my face. “Cover your ears, guys. This one is gonna be loud-”

The bomb detonated. Flames whirled out from the areas where her body hadn’t covered it. Steve and Scott flew into the wall behind them as the shockwave rammed into them. The ground quakes at their feet and the Hydra base around them rattled in the bombs wake. Steve crawled up to his hands and knees before grabbing ahold of the wall for support. His knees buckled but he managed to stand, eyes gazing out over the helipad where he saw nothing but smoke.

“No…” He felt his heart sink. “No, no, no. Please-”

Steve went quiet as the smoke began to clear out, my body being detectable in its midst. I brushed sooth off of my attire, pouring as it stained the grey fabric black.

“Are you kidding me? I just cleaned this.” I tried to rub it with my fabric clad hand, my fingers peaking out from the fingerless gloves being just as black as them thanks to the sooth which was there too, along with the rest of my body.

“Oh you f-…” Steve cut himself off, beginning to jog my way. I tried to not look over at him as if I hadn’t noticed him. Instead, I nonchalantly continued my useless attempts in cleaning myself up. As Steve from out of nowhere was an arms length away, I looked up only to have two, huge arms wrapped around me. My eyes blew open and my body remained stiff as a stick as he continued to hug me without remorse.

“Uh… Steve? You good?” I questioned as I tried to wiggle my arms free and could feel him tighten his grip of me instead. After a few more seconds he let go and looked into my eyes, his being burning red from the smoke around us.

“You’re a damn idiot, you know that?” He seemed to wait for an answer, and I awkwardly broke eye contact before smiling again.

“I was born in 1769, Steve. I think I’ll live a little longer.”

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