#that's exaggeration but i really am being thrown for a loop

[fangsup-cobrastyle]

Apparently I've been singing the wrong words to "Amber Lynn" by Mayday Parade for..... idk 10 years?? And I only found out when I decided to cover it, looked up the lyrics, went "that CAN'T be right!" and listened to the song on my studio headphones. I'm shaking crying, I feel like my whole world is a lie

#that's exaggeration but i really am being thrown for a loop #mayday parade #amber lynn #valdosta

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

#Obey me #Obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me shall we date #Obey me Headcanons #If you got through all of that... thank you! you’re a real one! #obey me! headcanons #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me MC #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #obey me asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Diavolo #obey me dialuci #Dialuci #Obey me! Lucifer #obey me! belphegor #obey me! beelzebub #Obey me! Mammon #obey me! leviathan #Obey me! Satan #obey me! asmodeus #Obey me! Diavolo #Lucifer’s Kid #This was legit so fun to write! I’ve been thinking about this idea for a while now and it’s so nice to see it finally in written format! #keep in mind: I wrote this with the idea that MC was 13/14 years old

[niskoo]

Burrito run

pairing: rich kid! Jake x rich kid! reader

genre: fluff, crack, bff2l! AU

warnings: food, swearing, sneaking out (??)

word count: 3k words

a/n: my dumbass posted this on my nct acc omfg

this was originally for haechan of nct for my nct acc (@daegall) but i thought i could treat you guys to hehe

networks: @enhypennetwork

You had known Jake for more than half of your lives. Thanks to both of your rich ass parents setting you two up for a playdate at the age of 12, now you have found your rock and partner in crime. You know when he's feeling down, when he wants to cause trouble for no reason, when he has an eye for someone, heck, you know when and how to get him out of any situation when needed.

Like right now, as he gives you a side glance as he talks boringly to a group of men. All they talked about was business. Jake wanted to talk about that one burrito place down the block, he wants to get out of there and go get some. He wants to get out of this stupid high class party he has no part of.

He knows you do too, he knows by the way you keep glancing at the back door by the kitchen, and how you occasionally move to each group closer to the door. You know he catches up to the plan, how he also moves from group to group, excusing himself every 2 minutes.

You politely excuse yourself from the many unknown rich aunts who just questioned your love life, giving them a very passive smile, before turning to move to another group.

You don't get to go to another group, because you're already so close to the door, and Jake approaches you.

"Why, hello there, miss Y/n."

You feign shock at his greeting, holding a hand to your chest, "My, Jaeyun, wasn't it? It's been too long!"

Your best friend nods, playing along to the small skit you two have created, "About 2 hours, I think? You've grown very beautifully,"

You flick your hand at him, nudging his shoulder not-so-gently, "Oh stop."

You bite your lip to hold back a loud laugh when Jake winces at your harsh push at his shoulder, watching as his face twists in playful anger. You can't help but thin he looks absolutely adorable, nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed in a non meaningful glare, you ought to kiss his puffed cheeks.

You shake the last thought from your mind, bringing the elegant glass of champagne to your lips, sipping lightly at the sweet and slightly sour liquid. You then take a double check around the spacious room, to see if anyone is watching.

Your mother and father were chatting at the far corner with the parents of Jay, a guy you met earlier this evening. He looked just as bored as you. Jake's parents stood not too far from your parents, greeting anyone who approached them.

This was your chance.

Quickly, as Jake was mumbling something about you growing up strongly as well, you grab his arm. He yelps in surprise, as you drag him through the back door, lightly blushing at your gentle touch at his wrist.

The back door soon slams behind the both of you, and you are met with a large yard.

"Y/n! What if someone caught us?"

Giving Jake a side glare, you start to trudge down the flight of stairs to the garden, "You were too busy complaining about my guns to notice we had a chance to escape. You're welcome."

"You're weak!"

"Am not!"

"Are to!"

You ignore the upcoming argument you could've started, taking off your painful heels. They were absolutely stunning, but stung your feet constantly. Beauty is pain, as mother says.

"Lead the way to the burrito truck you claimed to see on the way here!"

Through the many bushes, and many guards, and even more bushes, you finally make it out the the big mansion, and into the dark streets. It's 10 in the night, you hope the burrito place is still open or your only choice left is a McDonalds about an hour away or convenience store food. Not that you minded, but you haven't had a burrito since you were 18. You had it right after graduation day with one of your closes friends who you have no idea of her whereabouts now.

The last time Jake had a burrito is about last week, the first time he met another rich kid named Sunghoon. Their parents gave them a bunch of money to go spend on expensive and top quality foods, but they both mutually agreed to get cheap burritos that would probably give them a bad stomach.

Jake takes the lead, as expected, for he was the one who spotted the food truck. He took off his blazer some time ago, you don't remember when, but with his jacket thrown over his elbow and sleeves rolled up like that, you can't help but admire.

You notice every single little thing about him, his slow, rhythmic paces, occasionally kicking stray rocks on the sidewalk. You watch as his hair slightly bounces as he kicks yet another rock, and you want to pet his hair.

There was that one time when you were 16 and you had a movie night as your parents went away for some business, he had his head on your lap, you didn't mind for some reason. At some point you had started playing lightly with a few strands of his hair, but you didn't notice. The moment you softly ran your hands through his hair, you realized, and decided to keep your hands to yourself after that. To your surprise he protested against it, claiming it was very comforting. So now every time one of you come over to the other's house, you would somehow find yourself playing with his hair, like pure human instinct.

But now as you observed your best friend more, you have a different feeling running through you as you had an urge to softly play with them once more, as if it wasn't as platonic anymore. But that was absurd. you've been friends for 10 years now, why are you just feeling like this now?

Your heart jumps in your chest when you are suddenly met with Jake's eyes, shining brightly with a slight mischievous gloss glazing over them. "Can we pick up the pace please? I'm getting pretty hungry and I know you are too."

Your heart softens as he sticks his arm out, gesturing you to come next to him. You jog barefoot to his side, instantly looping your arm with his.

It doesn't take long to find the food truck Jake mentioned, just a 10 minutes from the mansion, somewhere near the center of town. You had to drive about 2 hours to get here, and so did Jake, so it's a bit strange how he knew his way around the town so easily. You guess he just is that way.

You practically drool at the smell of savory foods that lingers in the air, sucking the saliva in your mouth.

Your best friend eyes you playfully, nudging your hip with his, "See? What did I tell you? Burrito food truck!"

You don't respond, simply grunting and dragging him to the cashier to order some food.

It takes a lot of time to decide on what burrito you'd buy, there were even tacos, and weirdly, cookies and croissants. It was your dream food truck, really. In the end, you both went for the classic burrito, nothing could beat it.

There were no seats to the food truck, sadly, so you and Jake opted to sit on the curb, legs sprawled out on the road, hopefully no cars drive by.

"You ready?" Your best friend asks you, looking at you with much anticipation. You stare at your own burrito in much more anticipation, it's been 4 years since you had a burrito. You wonder how you could survive that long.

You nod vivaciously, already opening your mouth to take a bite. Jake chuckles as he watches you take your first bite, your cheeks instantly puffing out full of the contents. You shut your eyes in bliss, licking your lips for anything left on them.

As you continue to chew, you shake your head, "Shit, I haven't had anything this good in sooo long." You exaggerate, taking yet another bite of the heavenly treat.

Jake can't agree more, he just had a burrito last week, but somehow eating one with you feels different. Especially when you don't mind him seeing and pointing out the smeared food around your mouth, simply trying to search for it with your tongue instead.

Your best friend wants to cherish this moment forever, keep it deep in his heart and laugh at it in the future when he suddenly gets reminded of it, he wants to brag about it to his friends, maybe even share it with his grandchildren, he doesn't know. All he knows is that you're it for him.

You're the one he's spent all of his teenage years with, his first heartbreak, first sleepover, first drink was with you, heck, you were his first close friend!

You know so much about him, you share so much about yourself to him, he's the one you trust. He's the first person you call out to when you're down, first person you call out to in the best of your times. It amazing how much you've been through together, and Jake thinks anything is possible, as long as it's you.

Falling in love seems so much easier than ever, especially at that moment, eating a burrito instead of the expensive caviar at the party before, just with him. And nobody else.

He wants to make you his. Not just his best friend, his lover, his soul mate, his whole world. Not that you weren't already.

"What's wrong?" you suddenly ask Jake, startling him. "You nudge your chin at the burrito in his hands, "Why aren't you eating?"

Jake flushes, realizing he's been staring at you the whole time, taking a big bite of his burrito, before looking away bashfully. "It's nothing."

You grow suspicious of his actions, watching as he swallows and bites his lip shyly. You choose to leave it there, instead bringing up your parents being out of town next week.

The conversation keeps going, from one topic to the other, swerving all over the place, but that's just how it is, talking to the person you're most comfortable with.

The conversation goes on and on until you find yourself walking along the streets blindly, fiddling with the paper packaging of the burrito you ate. You also find yourself wearing Jake's shoes instead of walking barefoot, he gave to you after you complained about walking over so many rocks, and you didn't like how your heart swarmed and beat dangerously fast as he claimed it would be better if you borrowed them for the night.

Strangely enough, his blazer he took off about and hour ago now stayed on your shoulders, keeping you warm from the cold breezes of the night. All your best friend's actions made you swoon over him, and that wasn't something you would feel often. Maybe occasionally, but not everyday.

Jake doesn't know what got into him when he took his shoes off for you, or when he draped his blazer on your shoulders, or why he took your heels and held it for you. What he does know, is that he enjoys the way your lips purse and a light shade of pink dusted over your cheeks. Or how you pull his blazer tighter around your body and sub-consciously loop your arm around his again.

You two never really got to go through the proper high school experience, your parents forced you to go to a strict school with strict rules, they didn't even have celebrations.

Jake always imagines what it would be like to go to a dance, prom, maybe? Full of fun, dancing, and definitely you. You had a similar vision. Chugging down punch or soda and dancing crazily together until you both get sick and throw up in the bathroom.

Prom was like a mutual yearning for the both of you.

God, how you would kill to have a normal high school experience.

"You know," Jake starts, "this feels like I'm walking you home after prom."

You can't stop the grin from reaching your lips, giving into it and letting out a soft laugh. Softly, you elbow his side, "Corny."

There are a few laughs here and there after that, but overall just comforting silence that goes throughout the night. The crickets that echo throughout the night are your only noises, and the few cars rushing by. You two come to a stop at a random bench by a streetlamp, settling there until you realize it's time to go back to the party.

You realize it, but you just don't want to let go of the moment.

You feel Jake hook his leg under yours, swinging them together in sync as you rest and stare into the night sky. Tonight isn't that much of a pretty night, no stars, barely a moon, but that's alright, you're enjoying the most of it.

You turn your head away from the boring black sky, instead facing the mot interesting thing you find in life. Jake is staring down at your swinging legs, smiling at the sight. He fiddles softly with your fingers, caressing and tracing them as if they were one of the most precious things in the world.

Your eyes trail from your tangled legs, to your tangled hands, all the way up to Jake's face, tracing each and every detail with your gaze. You don't remember when he matured, you only remember the fluffy cheeked bowl cut Jake when you two were still middle schoolers. Now all that cheek has become more defined, especially his jaw, you can't help but admire him. He was like a piece of art. Your favorite piece of art.

For the second time that night, you focus on his hair, and ought to run your hands through them once again. To pull him into your embrace as he rests on you, to simply relax and twirl his strands around your fingers.

It seems like whenever you're staring at his hair, Jake just startles you with his eyes, still glossy, but this time they hold something different.

They admire you just as much as yours admire him.

Slowly, as if an unspoken agreement, you lean in closer to his face. His breath close to your cheek sets goosebumps trailing your body, and his touch now on your neck warms you inside.

Your eyes flit between his eyes and lips, oh those plump, soft lips you dream of. You would never admit it, but you have had many urges to crash your own upon them.

And that's exactly what you do. Though, crash isn't the right word to describe it. They press together softly more than recklessly, pulling into a soft lock, something much more than just platonic love being poured into it. Pure bliss and love are being poured like gentle and calm rivers, the ones you find clear and beautiful in parks. It runs faster as Jake tilts your head to kiss you closer, lips wrapped up in the warmth of yours. It feels like home to him.

Jake is absolutely perfect, you decide, despite all the many nights spent together breaking down, left for each other to pick the other up, it makes him perfect.

He thinks you're the most flawless thing he's ever seen, despite all the gems and crystals he sees in most parties, you're the brightest one shining, he could never find any jewel more valuable than you.

You pull away with one last soft lock of your lips, but stay close and ghost them together. You find his eyes the shining the most you have ever seen in the 10 years you have spent with him, one different emotion fluttering behind them. Love.

You surely don't feel that big of a person when you're at these big rich parties, even if everyone knew of your name. But kissing your best friend and being the one he sees, he loves, being his, you feel like you could rule the world.

You know you're his after this. How could you not? The way he breaks out into a very bashful smile when you leave one last peck on his lips, the way he holds you so close. There was no way he couldn't be yours after this.

A week later you have a very sleepy boyfriend on your couch, his head resting on your lap as you play softly with his hair. Nothing is all that different, except for all the kisses he steals when reaching up to you. And of course, the corny lines being thrown at each other as a competition to see who can come up with the cheesiest, most disgusting pick up line ever.

"I want to wrap you in my arms and make you my baerito."

"Ugh Jake that was just straight but bad! Not even funny or cheesy!"

Jake simply laughs, and wraps his arms around you just as he claimed to have wanted to, mumbling how he agreed into your forehead.

Being in his arms, you feel like you could fight everything that would try to hurt your lover, but for now you stick to the playful pokes he gives to your stomach and sides.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #i land #enhypen jake #jake sim #jake #jake sim enhypen #jake enhypen #jake sim imagines #jake sim scenarios #jake sim fluff #jake sim x reader #jake imagines

[smallblip]

Forever Fifteen

Levihan | Part I of Good Bones | written for Levihan Week 2021- Memory (day 6)

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33635872

“Hello stranger…”

Hanji doesn’t have to look behind her to know who it is. Already, she’s pulling a cigarette case from the inner pocket of her jacket. She holds one out to her side, and with a brush of cold fingers against hers, it’s gone. Her heart beats out of her chest.

Oh be still! We’ve been through this before! This should be as mundane as- doing the laundry.

She turns to face him, scanning him from his nice dress shoes to the way his hair is slicked back, an exaggerated simper on her face.

“What’s a handsome stranger like you doing in a place like this?”

He scoffs. “The party’s not over yet…”

“I know…” she replies, tilting her head to get a better look at her company. “I’m just watching…”

He follows her gaze to the courtyard below the balconies, to where Jean is sitting with Mikasa. Just- talking.

“Happened right under our noses…” Hanji chuckles. Oh right… she mutters when Levi gestures for the light. There’s a little fumbling because of Hanji’s penchant for pockets, but she finds the box of matches eventually. She strikes one and holds it close to Levi. A bright little light that burns embers into the greys of his eyes. The dark circles under his eyes have made a permanent home under his skin, and there are now lines carved into the shadows. When did those get there?

As always, Levi is the first to look away.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that would you?” He raises a brow.

Jean is now laughing at something. Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance. In the many years he has known these damned kids, he hasn’t once laughed at anything Mikasa has to say. Jean must be a fool then. Jean is a fool because he listens too well to Hanji. Listens when she tells him he should go for it if that’s what he wants. Tell her a good pickup line, swap a few jokes, share a little fruitcake. Easy.

Hanji gasps dramatically, “as Commander of the Survey Corps, I would like to remind you that I am well aware of the policy against fraternisation!”

“That never stopped you…” Levi answers. But oh it has. The people who knew them as lovers are now dust. And now the rumours speak for them, past prefixed to lovers as a way to explain the familiarity, as a way to grow the distance.

Oh it has stopped them.

“Never stopped you either… If only they knew the great Captain Levi wrote crazy ol’ Hanji Zoë a love letter in his youth…” Hanji chuckles, a little too brave so it must be the alcohol, because she feels anything but brave lately. Her laughter is a little too bright for the night. A little too beautiful and familiar that it makes Levi smile. There’s a spray of pink on his cheekbones. The thought of people knowing the details is mortifying to say the least. But no one will know. This secret will be buried in a shared grave. A cosy little grave that gets a little damp in the summer. But they’ll brave the heat. Good things happen in the sun. Good for the linens too. Just- not good enough to untether the smell of Hanji’s skin from the fabric of his sheets.

“Do you remember what was in that letter?” She continues.

He doesn’t look at her now. His gaze is fixed on Jean’s fidgeting and he thinks of his own attempts at romance. His own little love story that blossomed beautifully and died tragically as they grew older. When they were put in charge for lives outside their own. When Erwin had named Hanji the next in line for the cursed role of Commander. One last night with her. One kiss and a handshake and a- hello stranger, my name is Hanji Zoë.

Levi. He had replied, just Levi.

He remembers Pyxis’ smug little “maybe your boyfriend can help with the mission” and Hanji’s vacuous, unthinking “oh he’s not my boyfriend anymore…”. The look on Pyxis’ face had been one for the books- a genuine surprise from coming by two pieces of information. So they are exes. The rumours were true. Menacing Levi and Kooky Zoë. Levi had launched a kick at Hanji’s shin under the table. Never in Levi’s life had he wished so much for the earth to swallow him whole.

“No…”

He says. It’s not lying if she knows what he really means. If she can tell, between each drag of her cigarette, what he’s thinking.

And she can. Oh she can.

He lets the memory dance across his eyes. That night at the pub, two kids puffing out their chests so they wouldn’t rouse suspicions (not that people care much in the Underground), listening to the men sing songs about love. Oh what Levi would give be young again. To look at Hanji, really look at her for the first time and have his mind play static on loop. To realise that for the rest of his life he’ll only be mesmerised by her.

She chuckles. Another drag of her cigarette, two taps to watch the ash drip. A wink.

“We must be getting old then, Levi…” She says, “in a few years we’ll be a couple of old prunes, you and I…”

Levi smiles at her. He’s never really thought about the mechanics of growing old. But he thinks the image is nice. Of Hanji tracing pruny fingers along the length of his pruny skin where the crescent scars sit in the leather of his skin. And he’ll remind her of the time when they kids, because that’s what old couples do right? Tease each other endlessly, talk about the ambiguity of the good old days, reminisce over long walks? Levi wants the complete works. He laughs to himself, a private little joke that simmers to a murmur-

Four-eyed prune…

It’s a little later when Hanji decides maybe it’s time to stop eavesdropping and get back to the party. The musicians announce the last dance of the night. The trumpets trail after the saxophone and the sound is something grand. And Hanji asks Levi if he wants to dance, because she’s a sucker for romantics, even though she’ll never admit it. And she knows Levi is too. And Hanji thinks life must still be pretty sweet if she’s dancing with her ex lover with a sea of memories between them and the abject refusal to explicate the boundaries of exes. Because it’s hard to forget. Because it’s hard to wash your lover’s scent from your sheets. No matter how hard you scrub, no matter how much the sunlight eats at the fabric and bleaches it. So much so that Hanji thinks it’s all in her head. The smell of his skin, the taste of cigarettes on his tongue- he only smokes with her, only with her- the ghost of his breath against the shell of her ear.

And Levi’s heart is beating out his chest.

Oh be still! We’ve been through worse! We scrubbed at the sheets until our fingers were raw and pruny, remember?

But with Hanji it’s hard to catch a break. He knows. He’s dealt with this for so long that he doesn’t even flinch when she tells him-

“You’re my best friend, Levi…”

But she recognises all the signs. The slight twitch of the corner of his lips, the creasing of the skin between his brows, the sadness in his eyes so bright that she has to avert her gaze.

“Do you tell all the boys that when you dance with them?”

He answers. And she hears the rhythmic grate of the sheets against the washing board.

Forgetting is hard.

“I don’t dance with other boys…” She replies, channeling Hanji Zoë at fifteen- was it sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen maybe? Hanji Zoë who would sneak into the boy’s barracks to make out with her boyfriend in the dead of night and scurry back under the sheets before anyone found out. “You know I like you the most…”

“Good…”

He says. And he’s Levi- a few years older than she had been, a little too curt, a little too much misplaced possessiveness, thinking to himself that maybe love isn’t so icky and banal. Thinking maybe this is what his mother had promised him. This is all that’s beautiful.

He leans his chin against her shoulder, wrestling against the caution thrown at his beating heart.

Let them talk. Let them say we were lovers in a past life. Because that’s all we are.

Hanji presses her temple against his. The familiarity is jarring in all the ways a stain is. Bright mustard yellow against white cotton, evidence of a split second stupid decision to eat on the duvet. This is a cumulation of mustard moments then- a stain so big the entire world turns yellow.

“I like you the most too…” Levi says, voice low like this is a secret. Like as if the whole of Paradis Island doesn’t already know.

Hanji chuckles, and the vibration that spreads from her bones to his makes him blush. He knocks his temple against hers. Stupid Hanji. Stupid mustard stain.

“Liar…” she laughs. The word is a breath that caresses his cheek. But she knows him- this boy Erwin collected from the underground city. He got under her skin and she proceeds to make it her job to get under his. She had greeted him with scars on his forearm and in return, she walked away with a bruised eye, a broken nose, and an epiphany. And in the years after- the good years- they do what every teenager would do-

fuck around and fall in love.

Levi pulls apart, and in that moment, his lips brush against her neck- fleeting casualness befitting a hey big idiot. It’s the hottest day in the history of mankind but I’ll brave the stickiness to kiss your sweaty neck. Befitting a lifelong stain of a crush on a stain of a human being that will never quite go away.

It’s hard to forget.

Hanji watches as Jean crosses the hall back to where Connie and Sasha are. A sheepish grin plastered on a bright red face. The two tease him endlessly and as always, Jean swats them away, trying to maintain his cool. Hanji knows nothing really happened, but his reaction can only mean hopeful possibility. She smiles.

“Hey, do you think we would’ve worked out?”

Hanji asks when they’re walking back to the barracks, her jacket concealing a few bottles of alcohol. The other bottles have found their way to Levi’s reluctant hands. They’ve been through this before. It’s okay now. After all, comfort is a stained duvet. Soon, she’ll have to bid him farewell with a goodnight, stranger. But for now, Levi answers without looking at her.

“Yeah…” he replies, matter of fact, “we’ve got good bones…”

Oh be still! Hanji feels betrayed that her heart- a wretched thing so broken- still beats the same for him- this beautiful stain of a human being. This moment is living, breathing nostalgia. What had they been before one another? Menacing Levi and Kooky Zoë. How could anything bad ever happen to them. She grins at him.

“The best…”

#levihan #lhw2021 #levihanweek2021 #day 6 #memory #Levi x hange #Levi x Hanji #Levi Ackerman #Hange Zoë #my fic #mine #levihan fanfic

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (2)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

... PREV / NEXT

...

Life in his hospital bed passes slowly while he waits for his chakra to replenish. Always a sluggish process for Kakashi. With nothing to do, nowhere to go and a significant lack of motivation to find either, there is a lot of time to think. Too much time. With what was shaping up to be the fourth great shinobi war, there was no time for reflection or resting. To suddenly have this much downtime thrust upon him is throwing him through a loop. And he doesn’t even have his periodic trips to the memorial as a distraction. If only Sakura could see him now, resting and recuperating like a good injured shinobi.

Doctor Wada, the ever-attentive physician, returns a few more times to ask more questions and offer more reassurances. He seems set on his theory that Kakashi’s yet to be properly identified quirk was the cause of his memory problems. Kakashi runs through a sweet of memory and vision tests. A baseline for later testing when his eye is healed he is told.

“The police have a few questions regarding your situation. With your permission, they would like to conduct an interview,” says Wada on Kakashi’s third day of being officially awake, “Of course, as your doctor, I have the final say in the matter so if you would rather wait just say the word.”

Kakashi gives another bland smile, “Ah, you are too kind.” Police…as in, an authority the dealt with civilian conflict? “I think I’ll answer their questions. Wouldn’t want to stall an investigation.”

He had been wondering when or if he would be investigated. How similar would it be to Kohoha’s internal police force?

“Humph. If you think you’re ready for it.”

He maintains his smile. It was as good an opportunity as any to continue gathering information with the bonus of breaking up the monotony of waiting in a hospital bed for his injuries to heal. Doctor Wada spends the rest of the check-up muttering about pushy police officers and how underappreciated his medical opinion was.

..

The two men that come to question him are wearing matching uniforms which are very telling of the sort of organisation they belong to. White and dark blue. Not made to camouflage or reinforce. Restrictive seaming around the arms, preventing any extreme movement. Their shoes are sturdy but inflexible with heavy soles. Manurable but not designed for any excessive combat. Not a uniform you would give a force intended to physically subdue threats. Whereas Konoha’s police force was comprised mainly of genin and chunin, these men were closer to civilians in pure physical ability. Ah, but he is beginning to suspect that this was the norm here. The people here were softer in a way that was hard to define. 

Kakashi watches them approach, seated upright in his bed, hands resting loose in his lap, aiming it create an impression harmlessness. One good thing to have come from agreeing to this interview was getting his own private hospital room. Now there was no one around to raise an alarm if something went wrong and he was forced to act.

“Good morning,” The older one of the two starts, politely dipping his head, “Kakashi was it?”

“Hmm,” he smiles, “Morning.” There is a pause like they are waiting for him to give his last name. He doesn’t.  

“Well,” The man clears his throat, “I am officer Takata Toyokazu, currently in charge of investigating the circumstances surrounding the assault on your person.” An ID card, very similar to Konoha’s own ID cards is presented, “This is my partner. We’re from Hosu’s Central Police and we have a few questions if you don’t mind answering them for us.”

“Ah,” Kakashi eyes the ID, lamenting the fact that his sharingan is covered under a swatch of bandages and thus inaccessible without obvious movement, “I am afraid my memory just isn’t all there. Apologies in advance if my responses are lacking.”

He lets a little humour leak into his tone. It was time to do a little prodding and gauged how this place's ‘police’ conducted their investigations.

“Yes. We were informed about your memory problems.” The two share an obvious glance and there is a definite note of scepticism there. “Nevertheless, any information would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”  He easily agrees, shrugging, projecting an air of casual nonchalance.

Takata blinks “Right,” and Kakashi can practically see his brain stalling, “Well, you were found on the corner of First and Eleventh street in Hosu’s Central Business District. Would you say this is accurate?”

Kakashi thinks for an exaggerated moment, “I do remember a lot of people. I think someone called for help?”

“You were picked up in an ambulance yes. Do you remember what happened before that?”

“Hmm, I was attacked…there were a lot of trees.” He nods like he has just delivered a useful bit of intel.

“Trees?” Is the deadpan response.

“You know…tall plants with leaves and a….”

“We know what trees are. So, you were in a place with a lot of trees before you were in Hosu’s business district.”

“Probably.”

“A park maybe? There are a few around Hosu. Do remember anything else. Distinctive landmarks?”

“Ah,” he waits for a beat, “No.”

Kakashi is the subject of a disbelieving squint. “No names. Streets. Nearby locations?”

“Nope. All gone.” He says cheerfully and Takata’s brow twitches into an irritated frown.

“You were admitted with multiple stab wounds. Do you remember how you got them?”

He shrugs, “A knife probably.”

“Well, do you remember anything about who was holding the knife?”

“OH!” The two men startle at this sudden exclamation, “It was a man.”

There are a few seconds of silence. “What did the man look like?”

“I don’t remember that bit.”

This time he gets a very obvious frown. Apparently, realising that the current line of questioning is getting them nowhere, the officer motions to his partner and is handed a large envelope. After some shuffling around, a paper file is produced and flipped upright in Kakashi’s direction. It is a photograph of kunai, shuriken, senbon, razor wire and assortment of other weaponry he carried around on his person. He had wondered what the hospital had done with his stuff.

“These are the weapons found on your person when you were admitted to hospital. All confiscated. It’s illegal to carry these sorts of thrown weapons and knives in Japan.”

He scans the photo with interest. The image has his weaponry all laid out in neat lines.

“Really?” He is not even faking his curiosity this time. No one carried around any weapons at all? That wasn’t just a trend limited to the hospital? 

“Yes.” Comes the short response, “what were you using them for.”

“Oh, I don’t remember,” he says gleefully, “How scary.” And gets another round of scowls. After doggedly refusing to give more than vague answers and misdirection, the two increasingly frustrated men prepare to leave.

“If you do remember anything, please call.” A small paper card displaying a string of numbers is presented to him. “You’ll have to come down to the station and give an official statement once the hospital clears you as well so don’t forget. We’ll  get in contact if any arrests are made regarding the perpetrator.”

Kakashi knows enough about investigations to recognise that one, the two standing next to his bed were searching for some specific information and had found Kakashi’s responses lacking, and two, they had no idea who Kakashi was and knew even less about how he might have gotten here.

In the end, they just leave. No threats. No mind games. No attempts to arrest or move him to a secure location for further questioning. Nothing. Kakashi follows after the pair, pausing behind his door to listen to the two talk just outside his room. Officer Takata is obviously angry going of his slightly uneven breathing.

“That was a waste of time,” he grumbles.

“Do you think he was lying?”

“Oh, that smiley bastard definitely knows something more than he is letting on. Tch. Memory problems my ass…”

The is a pause before the younger man asks, “still think it’s connected to that Hero Killer sighting from a few days ago?”

“If he is telling the truth then no. The stabbing lines up with the Hero Killer’s MO but the target is all wrong. There is no Kakaski with a ‘sharingan’ quirk listed on the Registry or as any Hero, Sidekick or Hero agency employee. If he did have a run-in with the Hero Killer, it wasn’t targeted. Probably annoyed the guy into stabbing him if anything.”

There is the sound of footsteps as the two men begin to retreat down the hall.

“A dead-end then.”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

“What a shame. I thought for sure, what with the extent of the injuries, that this was a Hero Killer case. Perhaps it was another Villain? Or a vigilante maybe?”

“Who though? Hosu doesn’t have any active Vigilantes or big-name Villains. Not ones who go around stabbing people to that extent. You saw the hospital report. The man was seconds away from bleeding out and that head wound was obviously aimed at disabling his quirk.”

“Tch. Without any leads, we have nothing to go on. And if Kakashi is a Villain or criminal himself, there’s no evidence and nothing we can pin him with other than a fine for carrying banned weaponry.”

The voices grow fainter as the two walk further away from his room. They seemed suspicious but not overly concerned with Kakashi’s lies so it is not a huge surprise that nothing came of the interview. Despite their obvious irritation, their response had been ones of mild annoyance and moderate distrust. If either of them had had a kekkei genkai it hadn’t been used. Perhaps, their abilities weren’t suited to interrogation. Kakashi had been obtuse enough that surely, they would have been tempted if it were a possibility. It does conform to a general trend in which people underestimate his threat level, treating him  like a civilian. It was probably for the best.

Kakashi returns to his bed and stares at the paper card with the numbers. Obviously, they expected him to know what to do with it. Something to do with communication. Probably related to the small plastic devices nearly everyone in the building carried and spoke into on occasion. A radio of some sort. He had seen a few with numbers running across them. 

From the exchange, he has a few more points to consider and mull over. Villain. Hero. Vigilante. He knows these terms, has heard people in his ward mention them before and knows they are important in some way.

…

Having a new room meant he needed to relearn everyone’s schedules.  While doing so, he finally pinpoints why the people here feel so off. They lacked a level of…weariness…vigilance…that was both hard to describe and hard to notice until it wasn’t there anymore. Kakashi eyes the young nurse as she enters his room yawning, fixing her hair up as she walks, talking over her shoulder at someone behind her.

He had always thought the civilians of Kohoha lived free from most trouble. Not completely relaxed but still having a calm enough life. Well, calm when the village wasn’t being invaded. Now, he is revaluating that opinion.  When compared with these people, Kohoha civilians were stiff, suspicious, almost paranoid. Konoha’s people had hardiness to them, a useful trait when living in a Hidden-Village. They were especially wearily when it came to interacting with shinobi no matter how banally and harmless the shinobi acted. It was an attitude to be expected when there was a very real chance of deadly injury should the shinobi be unfriendly or unstable. A very real possibility with all the war and ever-present threat of enemy invasion and chakra monster attacks.  

Or maybe that was just his own experience as he never really interacted with many civilians and he his reputation wasn’t great.

“Hello Kakashi, how are you this evening,” The nurse greets him with a relaxed grin. He gives his bland smile and watches as she checks the various medical apparatus around Kakashi’s bed.

“I talked to the ward supervisor about your television. It should be working now.”

“Is it?”

Kakashi knows what a television is…they had a few of them in T&I, used for surveillance, and for a few more for monitoring remote training grounds like 44’s Forest of Death.

“Here is the remote. There are quite a lot of channels so now you’ll have something to keep you entertained.” He stares at the metallic rectangle object. He thinks that there might be a cultural difference between his understanding of a television and the nurse’s because watching an interrogation was never something he found particularly entertaining.

“Maybe it will help jog your memory as well.” The nurse gives him an encouraging smile before returning to her work.

Kakashi examines the object, bemused, “Ah, thank you Ms.”

“My name is Iori Ie I handle this ward on weekday evenings. I’ll be happy to answer any other questions if you have any. Anything to make this transition process easier.” She is sincere in her next assurance, “Just you wait, by the time your injuries are healed, we’ll have you right back up to speed.”

Television is…interesting and somewhat baffling. It’s not that Kakashi hasn’t seen examples of this sort of technology before now, it is just the availability and use he finds strange. Whereas a sensible village might hoard any new technology of its own use, here it is distributed and shared without limit. There was one of these things in every patent’s room! The same went for the information it communicated. Information so undervalued there was almost too much of it. Kakashi gives up trying to make sense of anything a few days into gaining access to the television and its hundreds of ‘channels,’ pumping out a constant stream of information. Some of it was obviously fictional, movies, entertainment, but most of the time it was hard to tell if what he was looking at was staged or if he was misreading a cultural difference. There were ‘channels’ devoted to daily status updates, delivering ‘news’ on everything from the weather, local politics, villain attacks, general crime and everything in between.

One thing he does confirm is that he is nowhere near any hidden villages or even on the continent, maybe not even in the correct world. This place was separate. This village or city as it was called, consisted of millions in a country of billions. There were more people in ‘Hosu’ than there were in the whole Fire Country. A logistics nightmare for sure. No wonder security was so lax around the hospital. Kakashi shakes his head and ends up switching off the television. Never would he have thought that having too much intel could be a bad thing.

“Ms Iori how would I go about getting something to read,” he asks the next day. She seems to be genuinely happy about his sudden sudden request. Kakashi hasn’t spoken or interacted much since waking, to busy trying to gauge whether the people surrounding him were threats.

He ends up with a pile of old manga volumes detailing the heroic adventures of some up and coming Hero protagonist and a stack of thin ‘magazines’ belonging to the nurse’s grown up son. The magazines are full of Hero analysis, speculation, and rumour like some sort of super detailed self-defeating bingo-book.  He just…doesn’t understand why anyone would let this sort of information circulate.

At least now he has a better idea about what a Hero and Villain was. A Hero was this word’s shinobi equivalent- if shinobi went out of their way to draw attention to themselves- acting more like a police force in that they managed threats to civilians instead of taking commissions and repelling external threats. Actually, they were nothing like Shinobi apart from their use of blood line abilities in combat. A Villain was like a missing-nin, hiding among the ridiculously large civilian population…sort of…

He needs to start working on a way home because he definitely doesn't understand this world.

...

NOTE: When Kakashi discovers the internet his brain will explode. 

PREV / NEXT

#bnha #naruto #my hero academia #boku no academia #hero killer arc #CrossOver #dimension travel AU #hatake kakashi #fanfiction #crossover fic #kakashi headcanons #culture shock

[dreamypeaches]

run, baby, run | jj maybank x reader

request: @drewsephsmiles asked: an imagine where reader and jj sneak into midsummers under a different name, and he finally confessing his feelings as you guys are running away??

summary: angry at your friends for spending the night on the dark side without, you and jj decide to crash midsummers, only to grow closer throughout the night. 

warnings: alcohol use, cursing, ward cameron

word count: 3.2k

a/n: this made me so happy while writing it. it’s just a bunch of fluff and dorky jj. also, lmk if you notice the parks and rec reference in here. i think it’s pretty obvious lol. enjoy :)

You and JJ had been abandoned. Thrown to the wayside in favor of some Kook party. And not just any Kook party, but Midsummers, the Kookiest event of the year. To be fair to your friends, none of them wanted to be there either. Pope had to work with his dad, Kiara was forced by her parents, and John B was Sarah’s date. Usually, you would have attended as Kie’s date, keeping her company while the two of you got drunk off expensive champagne. But, since John B was attending this year, you didn’t want to leave JJ all alone. So now you found yourself in the least Kook place in the Outer Banks: lounging on the couch on the porch of the Chateau, smoking with JJ while complaining about your friends going to the dark side.

“Did you see John B is his monkey suit? He looked ridiculous. Sarah’s got him whipped for sure,” JJ noted, referencing the suit Sarah had picked out for his best friend for Midsummers. The moment John B had emerged from his room wearing a dark blue suit and a pair of fancy loafers, JJ couldn’t help but go off on the boy.

“Leave him alone, he’s in love,” You said emphasizing your words with a fake dreamy voice, “Besides, we both know your ultimate dream in life is to go Full Kook.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to complain about it now. I mean, that suit probably cost more than my whole life, and Sarah just bought it like it was nothing.”

“You should see her closet. She’s got shit in there that could pay my parent’s mortgage five times over.”

JJ passed the joint you and you took a hit, mind wandering to Sarah’s closet full of beautiful party dresses. JJ sighed and flipped around so his head rested in your lap. Your fingers instantly went to his blonde locks, running through them lazily.

“If I went full Kook, I would buy a suit for every day of the week. No, every day of the month, plus one to sleep in. That’s what I want, so much money that I can sleep in a suit and not even think about it. If I fuck it up, oh well, I’ll just go buy a new one.”

You giggled at JJ, looking down at him as you passed him the joint. His red, hooded eyes met your own, just as glazed as his. For a moment, you were thankful that your friends were all stuck at Midsummers. You cherished moments like this, where it was just you and JJ. You had been friends with him and John B as long as you could remember, the three of you sharing a third grade class. The three of you were thick as thieves. You thought of John B as a brother. JJ, on the other hand, was something else entirely. He was your person, always there by your side. He could read you like no one else could, and you understood him just the same. That’s why you loved spending time alone with JJ. Neither of you had to be anyone else but yourselves. Sure, you could do that with the Pogues, but with you and JJ it was just different.

You’d really started to notice the difference lately. You noticed it in the way he looked at you, in the way his touch would linger on your skin, the way your heart skipped when he laughed and they way your stomach flutter when he sat close to you, like he was doing now.

Looking down at your best friend, observing his lazy smile and the way his hair felt against your fingers, you could safely say you were in love with JJ Maybank. And you were okay with that. You were also okay with never telling him your feelings, because you couldn’t risk losing him. Even if it was only as friends, you wanted to keep JJ by your side for the rest of your life.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by JJ booping you on the nose after handing you the joint, small giggles escaping his lips.

“Whatcha thinking about, sunshine?” He asked. You took a hit to avoid answering for a moment, mind racing to come up with something.

“Just imagining myself as a Kook at Midsummers right now. As much as I complain about it, I actually love getting all dressed up and getting shitfaced with Kie.” You said, Midsummers being the first thing that came to your mind. JJ suddenly shot up from his place on your lap, almost knocking your head with his own in the process. He spun around so he was facing you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Then let’s fucking do it!” He said. You furrowed your eyebrows at the blonde boy.

“Do what? Go to Midsummers? JJ, how will we-”

“Sarah got John B an extra suit, just in case she hated the way the other one looked on him. And I’m sure Kie wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of her dresses, it’s not like she uses them anyway.”

You opened your mouth, ready to question every aspect of his plan, when JJ jumped to his feet and stopped you. He positioned himself so he was standing obscenely straight, a studious look on his face.

“Ms. Y/L/N, would you do me the pleasure of allowing me to escort you to Midsummers this evening?” He said in a terrible fancy voice. He extended his hand towards you expectantly. You looked at his hand then up at his face. His gaze was soft as he looked at him, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he waited for your response. After a few moments of thinking over everything that could go wrong, you looked at him again, and remembered, this was JJ Maybank. You would walk through Hell for him. The only differences between Midsummers and Hell was free booze and food.

You gently placed your hand in his, meeting his eyes and smiled.

“It would be my honor.”

After stealing the extra suit from John B’s room, sneaking into Kiara’s house to pick out a dress (you knew where she hid the spare key), and quickly doing you make up in the car, you and JJ parked outside of Kook country club where Midsummers was taking place.

“So what’s the plan?” You asked. JJ just looked at you.

“What do you mean?”

You stared at him incredulously, throwing your arms in the air.

“What do you mean “what do you mean”? What is your plan for sneaking into the most prestigious Kook event in the Outer Banks?”

“When have I ever had a plan?”

You glared at him for a moment, before rolling your eyes and stepping out the car. He met you on your side of the car, positioning his arm for you to hold onto.

“If we get caught, I’m telling them you kidnapped me.”

JJ chuckled and started leading you towards the door.

“Don’t worry, sunshine, we’ll be fine. Just follow my lead.”

You sighed and shook your head, too used to JJ’s antics to truly be worried.  

When you were a few feet from the door, JJ leaned down till his lips were close to your ear.

“By the way, you look beautiful, sunshine.”

You turned your head away from him, trying to hide the smile that was stuck on your face.

A man stood in front of the door into the country club, blocking the way. He looked the pair of you up and down as you approached, picking every detail that set you and JJ apart from the Kooks. Despite dressing the part, you two didn’t hold yourselves the same way the Kooks did.

“I’m sorry, but the club is closed for a private event,” The man said with a look that said “sorry, not sorry.”

“Oh, we’re well aware. We’re here to attend. Sorry, we’re running late, you know how women can be with their make-up,” JJ said, motioning to you. You lightly elbowed him while continuing to smile politely at the man.

“I understand, sir, but…the event is at capacity. Maybe next year!” He said, giving you a snide smile. You glared at the man while JJ removed himself from your grasp.

“Excuse me, do you know who I am? My name is Charles Cameron, and I don’t think my uncle, Ward Cameron, would be very happy if his favorite nephew didn’t make it to his party. Especially a nephew who is visiting on his honeymoon and wants to show his wife the absolute best the Outer Banks has to offer.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as he referred to you as his wife. But you didn’t have time to dwell on it as the man opened the door quickly. The look on his face made it clear he didn’t want to take the chance of facing the wrath of Ward Cameron. JJ looped his arm with yours once again and led you inside, giving you a wink and a smirk after thanking the doorman.

“Wow you really unleashed your inner Karen back there, Charles,” You laughed.

“Nah, it was more of my inner Gretchen Wieners. I’m so glad you made me watch that movie last week. I went all my father, the inventor of toaster strudel on his ass,” JJ said, putting on his best teen girl voice.

“I think we need sign you up for acting classes, you’re a natural!”

“Classes? Nah, sunshine. The master doesn’t take classes, he teaches them.”

You threw your head back in laughter as he pulled you to the open bar. The pair of you ordered the fanciest and most expensive drink you could think of, trying your best to blend in with the Kooks surrounding you.

Sipping on your disgustingly expensive drinks, you moved through the crowd. You spotted John B and Sarah at he edge of the dance floor and led JJ toward them.

“What the hell are you doing here? Is that my suit?” John B questioned.

“It’s not like you were gonna wear it. Anyways, Y/N and I were no pissed that you guys abandoned us for this Kookfest, we decided to come crash your party. Free booze, dancing, the chance to fuck with some Kooks, it’s one hell of a honeymoon.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, giving John B an exaggerated smile.

“Honeymoon?” Sarah questioned, raising her eyebrows and giving you a sly smirk.

“Yup. Oh, and, by the way, if anyone asks, I’m your favorite cousin Charles. Okay, we’re gonna go find Kie. See you love birds later.” He led you away from the dance floor, but you didn’t miss Sarah mouth we’ll talk later at you.  

Sarah was the one to help you realize your feelings for JJ. When she had first started dating John B, she has assume the two of you were dating. When she asked you about, you were disgusted. After asking her to elaborate as to why she believed you were dating your best friend, it became less and less disgusting. Suddenly, you realized that you very much wanted to date your best friend. That had been three years ago. Ever since, Sarah was constantly pestering you about telling JJ how you feel. She would always mention things that proved JJ felt the same way. From the way he looked at you, how protective he was of you, how he got jealous when anyone was even remotely interested in you. But no matter how much Sarah pointed out to you, you could never believe that JJ would want to be anything but friends.

The pair of you wandered around Midsummers. You eventually found Kie, who had escaped the center of the party by hiding by the grill with Pope. After complimenting your dress, then realizing it was her own, you were forced to explain how you kinda, sorta broke into her house. You and JJ escaped her wrath quickly, running to the other end of the party. You spent the next hour wandering around, drinking champagne and making shitty small talk with the Kooks who always found ways to rope you into conversations. JJ had somehow convinced a lady that the both of you were very wealthy entrepreneurs on the look out for new companies to invest in.

“So, you do a lot of investing?” The lady, you think he name was Eleanor, asked.

“We like to dabble. I recently invested in some shirts I got a garage sale. Left those at Wendy’s on the way home, so,” JJ raised his glass towards the women, giving her a serious look, “the economy.”

You both let out the fakest rich laughs you could, causing the women to step away from you quickly. Your fake laughs turned into real giggles at the look the lady’s face. You walked father away from the crowd learning against a wall near the edge of the party.

“Who knew Midsummers could be so fun,” You remarked, grinning at JJ. He smiled back, bumping shoulders with you. You dissolved into a comfortable silence, observing the party moving in front of you. You glanced toward the front of the club and noticed the doorman from watching you and JJ.

“JJ!” You tapped the boys shoulder and nodded toward the man. He looked at him quickly before looking back at you.

“I think it’s time for an acting lesson. Lesson one, method acting,” JJ said. He leaned forward, placing a hand on your cheek. For a second, it seems like his lips are heading straight for yours. You stomach flips as he gets closer. But he suddenly changes course, his lips landing on your cheek.

“I don’t think that’s what method acting is,” You said.

“It’s my method of acting,” He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He quickly pulled away, going back to leaning against the wall. You gave yourself a moment to calm your racing heart before looking back towards the doorman. He was no longer watching the pair of you, thankfully. You returned your attention towards the party, trying to ignore the tingle on your cheek where his lips has touched.

Your head perked up as the music changed, the band playing Dream a Little Dream of Me. You let out a content sigh.

“I love this song,” You said. JJ gazed at you, taking in the peaceful look on your beautiful face. He slowly took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles as he met your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his gaze and practically swooned at the tone of his voice has he quietly spoke.

“Sunshine, would you like to dance?”

You could only nod, smiling at the boy as he led you to the dance floor. Your hands stayed clasped together, while your other hand rested on his shoulder. His hand landed dangerously low on your hip, gripping it and pulling you close. Your face was only about a foot from his, breath mingling as you swayed to the music.

“You look beautiful tonight,” He whispered.

“You already said that,” You whispered back.

“And I’ll say it again.” He grinned at you, pulling away to give you space to twirl before pulling you back in, closer than before.

“God, you deserve this. Not having to worry about a thing. Getting to wear beautiful dresses and go to glamorous parties. Why do people like Rafe Cameron, the living equivalent of trash, get to enjoy this shit while you, a literal goddess among women, gets stuck on the Cut with trash like me.” He glanced down has he spoke, refusing to meet your eyes. You placed your hand under his chin, lifting it to look at you.

“I’m glad this wasn’t my life. Because if I was stuck on Figure 8 I never would have had met you. I’m glad I’m stuck on the Cut, because I get to stuck with the coolest people I know. Even now, if I were given the chance to go Full Kook, I wouldn’t go anywhere unless you were with me.”

JJ looked at you, mouth agape. Your hand moved from his chin to his cheek. You started to move in, as did JJ, breath picking up the closer you got. Suddenly, a hand slammed onto JJ’s shoulder, making both of freeze.

“Enjoying your honeymoon, nephew?” Ward Cameron spoke from behind JJ. JJ looked in your eyes and smirked.

“Well honey, looks like we’re heading home early.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a few security guards making their way towards you. JJ gripped your hand and began running off the dance floor. You ran with him, laughing as he antagonized the security guards chasing after you. You kicked off your shoes as you ran, making a note in your head to apologize to Kie later. The two of you weaved through the crowd, running down the beach and into a grouping of trees. JJ suddenly pulled you to the side pressing you up against a tree. You could hear the the security guards talking at the edge of the woods.

“Just make sure they don’t make it back in.” One of them said, before walking away. You barely paid attention to the security guards, though, too busy staring into JJ’s eyes. You both were breathing heavily after your daring escape. JJ’s hair was a mess, falling into his eyes. He licked his lips, eyes moving from your eyes to your mouth. You reached up to brush his hair back. Hi hand caught your wrist, pulling you closer to him before his hands wrapped around your waist. His lips crashed onto yours  hungrily. You kissed him back with equal fervor, hands tangling in his hair and forcing his head closer. He tasted sweet and bubbly like the champagne you had consumed the night. He tasted like the stars, beautiful and sparkling and like a dream.

When you finally parted to catch your breath. His hand move up to your face, cupping your cheeks.

“I love you, Y/N. It may be selfish, but I’m so glad you got stuck on the Cut with me. Being around you makes me feel like I can be anything and that I don’t belong dead in a ditch somewhere. And for so long I thought I could handle just being friends, but I can’t fucking do it anymore. I want kiss you and hold you and make you feel good!You are my fucking sunshine and I want to give you everything you deserve. I may not be able to give it to you now, but, if you’ll let me, I will stop at nothing to give you everything.”

You were frozen. Tears were gather at the corner of your eyes as you took in his words. One of your hands moved to cover JJ’s on your cheek. You gave him a watery grin.

“JJ, you’re here in front of me. I already have everything.”

He smiled and captured your lips once again, silently thanking the universe for putting you in his life.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #obx fic #my writing

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew 2x2

Me in my naïveté: surely, the Nancy Drew writers, the best writers the CW has on staff, have run out of ways to bring back past moments and episodes that seemed unimportant at the time.

ND writers: Bitch you thought?

Y’ALL

When I say tonight’s episode made me absolutely lose my actual goddamn mind that is not in any way an exaggeration. My brain physically pried itself out of my skull and ran away down the street.

Jesus Jedediah Christ the way they brought back those five people/ghosts who at the time seemed absolutely unimportant and sent me so entirely off my rocker if I even attempt to think about it for more than two seconds I’ll spontaneously combust so we’re going to have to work around it.

First off, no surprise: HANNAH GRUEN. My bae. My wife. Love of my life. You were only there for two minutes but they were exquisite.

Second I fucking KNEW that dude from the Marvin funeral episode was important. If you’ll recall from my review my theory at the time was that maybe HE killed Owen, but you know what this was so much better.

Okay, to business. At the beginning when Nancy is seeing all of the scratches on Douglas Marvin’s grave and then we zoom out to kind of see the Aglaeca in the side of the frame, and then zoom out more and it turns around and LOOKS at us doing that creepy little swaying thing? POETIC CINEMA. Riverdale wants what Nancy Drew has.

That “unfortunate first meeting” George had with Nick’s mom and her subsequent attempts to prove herself, culminating in Millie giving her the dumpling recipe? Adorable. Speaking of the mom, I do indeed hope we see more of her. Her and Nick’s moment at the end of the episode where he talked about seeing her cry in the courtroom absolutely broke my heart. I can’t handle the thought of him not at the very least having the occasional phone call with her from this point onwards.

To be entirely honest almost every scene with the mom broke my heart. When she was talking about how she and her husband raised Nick to always do everything right and lost him anyway? Hhhhhhhhhhhhh it hurts. The writers said they would be keeping BLM in mind while writing this season, like how they kept Me Too in mind for the first one, and I was a little worried it would be hamfisted. But if they continue as they did tonight it will be nothing but beautiful.

Guys. Guys. I know I said I had no idea how to talk about it but I have to talk about it. That scene in the orphanage. When they find the photo. And Nancy realizes she has seen all of those ghosts before.

GUYS.

EPISODE 3.

SINCE EPISODE THREE THE WRITERS HAVE BEEN PLANNING THIS.

GODDAMN DO WE LOVE CONTINUITY AND FOLLOWING THROUGH ON PLOT LINES AND WRITERS WHO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY’RE DOING. I WANT TO FIND THE SHOWRUNNER AND KISS THEM ON THE MOUTH.

Ahem.

Anyway.

I thought Carson and Ace had some really nice moments this episode. i.e. “The guy at the store said it was a one man job.” “I think the guy at the store lied to you.” I am, however, curious if Nancy is going to ever bring her father in on the fact that supernatural beings exist and that she deals with them on the reg. Like I know he helped them out with the coma ritual with McGinnis (McGinnis come back 😭😭😭) but they never really brought it up with him again, and he’s been like kept out of the loop on it all ever since. I’m just wondering if he in fact actually knows and is just remarkably calm all the time, or if he’s in denial, or what. But tbh I do have a very strong amount of sympathy for Carson, and I really want him and Nancy to get back on good terms. At the end of the episode when she brought him the coffee and stuff I teared up a little. I’m an adult, I can admit it. Maybe it’s just because I’m such a massive fan of the books, where she and her dad were so close, but having them at odds especially after they started out that way, is painful.

Speaking of the books.

Fernwood orphanage. Hhhhhh writers I see what you did there. But for those of you who don’t know, in Nancy Drew #9 The Sign of the Twisted Candle, Nancy Bess and George stop at a roadside inn/bed and breakfast type place. At the inn is a 100 year old man named Ada Sydney who Nancy befriends, along with a young orphan waitress named Carol Wipple whom Ada has a soft spot for. The next day he dies, and turns out Carson is his lawyer and Nancy goes with him for the will reading. Long story short, Carol is apparently his granddaughter and he leaves her like EVERYTHING, but when she was young she grew up at, drumroll please!

FERNWOOD ORPHANAGE. I AM DECEASED.

And the Stratemeyer woods? For the same people, Stratemeyer Syndicate was the place that published all the Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Bobbsey Twins, Tom Swift books, etc. You will not be able to find them today however, as they were bought by Simon and Schuster in like 1987.

Back to the show.

When Detective Tamura (aka The Inferior McGinnis Who Can Rot In Hell) said the skeleton was Buddy and NOT KJ (AJ? I’m deaf) I got suspicious. And then as soon as they played the record and only five ghosts showed up, I was all ‘HOLY SHIT HE IS ALIVE’ and then he WAS. At the end of the episode, when they saw the flowers on the graves? You guys I was LOSING. MY MIND. And then the note saying “forgive me -kitsune” aaaaaaah. I am in fact afraid that he wants forgiveness because he sacrificed the others to save himself, but I am praying the writers do not do that to me.

I’m interested in finding out, assuming we meet KJ/AJ next episode, WHY the 1975 group reached out to the Aglaeca in the first place. Nancy and Crew did it because they needed Lucy Sable’s bones from 20 years ago to get Carson off the hook for murder, I am assuming these guys had at least as good a reason. And the Aglaeca herself. Dear god you guys. Odette Marvin. I’ve been saying and we’ve all known for a while, that she was wronged by the Marvin family. But Lordy that’s extreme. Listening to the overlaying recording? They low key abducted her, stole her fortune, her chaperone and the captain betrayed her, she was presumably bound hand and foot had her head shaved and got thrown into the ocean. I think I might be a little murderous too ngl. Although it begs the question, why exactly did Douglas Marvin have her painted into the hall of tragedies? I don’t think it was to gloat. Maybe Odette haunted him after the fact and added herself into the painting? But my favorite theory is that Odette as the Aglaeca started killing all the people who were in on it, her chaperone, the captain, etc., (I assume there were six) and Douglas saw the others dying and painted her into the portrait as a way to warn future generations of Marvins, rather than fess up to what he had done. I also want to know the deal with the first women to summon her, and the mirror? There is potential there I KNOW IT.

If you’re not a Drewson shipper feel free to skim this paragraph but guys Nick and Nancy are soulmates it’s confirmed. I’m not even kidding guys I was in no way shape or form prepared for the amount of Nick x Nancy content I got tonight. When Nick is at her house and they mention how they skipped friendship the first time around? “We skipped a lot of things the first time around.” DEAD. And then later at the Claw, when Nancy and not George came to comfort him post fight with the mother? And then he saw that look Nancy gets where her eyes flit around cause her mind is working overtime? *chef’s kiss* My prediction is they will spend this season building up a strong, solid, foundational Nancy x Nick friendship and then when they give the romance a second go they will be so. much. stronger. I’m guessing season 3 will be spent in a bit of a complicated love triangle with Nick and Nancy (re)developing feelings for each other while still having them for George and Ace, making the eventual payoff all the more delightful.

I close this review - which was admittedly less of a review and more of me shrieking incoherently - off with a plea to the writers.

*eyes turn black*

WHERE IS DEAD LUCY

WRITERS

WHERE IS SHE

IT HAS BEEN ALMOST A YEAR. FOR TEN MONTHS NOW I HAVE GONE WITHOUT HER. SHE HAS BEEN GONE SINCE EPISODE 16. NO SCREAMING. NO CREEPY CRAWLING. NOTHING. WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER. BRING HER TO ME.

*shakes self* Glad to get that out of my system. See you all next week for 2x3, The Secret of the Solitary Scribe.

#Nancy Drew cw #Nancy Drew #Bess Marvin #George Fan #Ned Nick Nickerson #Ned Nickerson #Ace #Carson Drew #Hannah Gruen #Lucy Sable #Dead Lucy #Lucy wasn't in the episode but she's in my heart #the reunion of lost souls #Drewson #Nick x Nancy

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Strings”

Happy Saturday, RWBY friends! I am, quite obviously, going to dive into the recap in just a moment, but first I wanted to take a short detour to discuss the elephant in the tumblr room. Namely, Supernatural.

For those of you out of the loop, the tl;dr is that a fifteen year, beloved show ended with a truly horrendous finale. Specifically, the finale rejected everything that the show had been building towards: the logical conclusion to character arcs, the theme that “family don’t end in blood,” the potential for a queer romantic relationship… I could go on. The point I want to make is that the fandom had every reason to believe we’d be getting these things. This isn’t a case of fans upset that the finale didn’t go the way they wanted as an individual viewer, but rather that the finale didn’t go the way the show clearly and explicitly said it would. It’s not an exaggeration to say that in many respects, viewers were straight up lied to.

(I recommend reading the reviews.) 

What does this all have to do with RWBY? Well, I can’t help but think that history is repeating itself. Certainly there are some notable similarities between the two series. Both have long, meandering plotlines with no clear end in sight (though I hope RWBY doesn’t reach the 15 Volume mark…). Both began with a small, core cast, but quickly expanded—generating the expectation that these now equally important characters will be given their due. Both have moved from the small conflict of fighting everyday monsters to a god-based mythology. Both have a popular queer relationship dangled in front of the viewers, featuring scenes where they’re “obviously” in love… but will it ever be confirmed? Both have a fanbase that says loudly and confidently that the writers know what they’re doing. Just wait! It’s all been planned! We’ll be rewarded for our patience and soon all the naysayers will be proven wrong.

Thing is, the Supernatural fandom wasn’t rewarded. Right up until a week ago those fans—myself included—had faith that the writers knew what they were doing because they can’t really be that out of touch with their own story...right? It’s not possible. Yet they were, it was, and now that I’ve gotten solid proof of precisely how far a show can go to reject its own logic, themes, and premise, that just makes me more wary of RWBY’s mistakes. Before I had a solid faith that things couldn’t possibly get that bad, that no matter how much RWBY might be messing up in the short term, it will undoubtedly pull it together overall, because what show wouldn’t? Especially a show with such promise and, at times, wonderful storytelling. Well, Supernatural didn’t manage it and frankly I’m not sure what to do with that information.

Seriously. I don’t have any grand conclusion here. It’s not my intention to suggest that anyone should stop watching RWBY, or to claim that it will absolutely fail because Supernatural did. Obviously, we don’t know what will happen until we get to see it in the show. I only want to acknowledge these parallels and the similar journey I see both fanbases on. I can’t help but wonder if, a couple years from now, RWBY fans will be making incredibly optimistic posts about how it’s all coming together, just have some faith, everyone who says that the group won’t get a satisfying ending, or Blake and Yang won’t be confirmed are just mean trolls… only to wake up that Saturday morning and get another metaphorical slap in the face.

It’s something to think about.

But here I’ve spent a page talking about the wrong show. Let’s get into the episode!

We open on a black screen with lots of ambiguous noises. At first I thought this was Oscar struggling in the Hound’s grip or something, but then I remembered that RWBY likes to insert an episode between cliffhangers. I watched Ironwood (presumably) shoot a guy and he only came back this week (though that question still isn’t answered. At this point I kind of wonder if it will be). Oscar was kidnapped last week, which means we won’t get to see him until next week. Or… two weeks from now? RT skips the week of Thanksgiving, don’t they? Sounds familiar doesn’t it? Something horrible happens to Oscar and we need to wait two weeks to find out how it’s resolved. 

Watch him escape the Hound off screen and return to the group with a new outfit 😂

So it’s not Oscar we hear, but Ruby, the last one coming out of the tube. Weiss is in the process of pulling Nora’s ear for that stunt… with a frankly strange looking hand. What’s up with RWBY animating weird hands lately? I’m pretty sure that’s not how anatomy works.

Anyway, Nora counters that this was a “Once in a lifetime experience,” but they were all going to go through the tubes regardless. Weiss isn’t pissed that you sent her through, she’s pissed that you did it unexpectedly when she was alone, heading into enemy territory. But of course, there’s no one in the room to hinder them, so the mistake is meaningless.

We’re setting the tone again though. For the first half of this episode everything is sunshine and giddy adventure, which doesn’t fit the situation at all. It also creates emotional whiplash when I’m suddenly supposed to be super worried about things later on. This sort of about-face works once in a blue moon, as an emotional punch, like we see in Mulan: 

But RWBY does it every other episode, which makes the overall tone of the series confusing instead. Half the time RWBY feels like two different stories—the cartoony tale of girls going on fun adventures, and the traumatic tale of a fantasy war—that have been badly spliced together.

“Alight, Robo-Girl, which way?” May asks and Penny demonstrates why she’s the best for sneaking into a facility. She’s able to map out the whole place, including seeing where everyone is so they can avoid detection. Kudos to RT for going this route. I was worried that they would have Ruby and the others straight up attacking Atlas grunts, knocking them out/potentially even killing them because who cares, right? They’re the bad guys! So I’m glad they’re working to get in and out undetected. Granted, we see in some places that they’re clearly willing to fight the soldiers if it comes to that—they’re reaching for their weapons when Penny opens the final door, expecting the room to be full of people. They were going to attack—but at least they’re trying to lessen that conflict as much as possible. That’s the sort of choice I expect to see from heroes and I’m glad we got it here. 

After scouting the area Penny corrects May: “And my name is Penny,” to which Ruby gives a satisfied “Heh.” I’ve got no problem with Penny rejecting nicknames, even potentially well-meaning ones, because she’s always struggled with her status as a real girl and her name is her own. She gets to decide what others call her. I do, however, have a problem with making the presumed trans character the one who is corrected. Granted yes, we haven’t gotten confirmation in the show that May is trans, but RT doesn’t get to cash in on that rep without likewise suffering the consequences for how the character is treated. You’re telling me that a trans woman is going to roll her eyes when someone asks her to use a specific name? Please give May flaws, yes, she’s a person, but out of all the millions of flaws across the human spectrum, this is the one we’re shown? 

Not to mention Ruby’s continued attitude. It’s like, ‘Yeah, May. Stop being a horrible person who draws attention to the fact that Penny is a robot. I never did that.’ Except when Ruby first met her she didn’t know Penny was a robot. Just like she didn’t know Blake was a faunus—something we’re reminded of this episode. We might assume Ruby wouldn’t have ever made any missteps at the beginning of these relationships, but the fact remains that she got to know both girls before their minority status was ever revealed. Ruby loved them before she ever had to grapple with their differences. 

Put in her place, May then demonstrates that she can make lots of people invisible, not just herself. That’s handy. She creates an invisibility bubble that reminds me of Harry’s invisibility cloak. In the sense that others might not be able to see you, but they can still hear and touch you, which makes sneaking around still pretty challenging.

No sooner have I thought that then two guards get into the elevator with them. The group keeps quiet as the duo discusses how no one can get close to Salem’s storm without “getting shocked right out of the air.” Interesting. And frankly one hell of a roadblock if the Hound escapes into the clouds. Oscar may be gone for a while if he doesn’t escape on his own... The woman also comments about how creepy it is that all the grimm are just hanging out, waiting. It’s “worse than if they’d attacked.”

No it’s not! RT, stop trying to implement the idea that Salem withholding her forces is some epically cool choice. She should have decimated everyone by now and the fact that she hasn’t just shows how transparent the problem is: you’ve created a villain that’s too powerful and now you don’t know what to do with her.

As the group sneaks out of the elevator Nora grins and presses all the buttons, which is, as expected, a dumb move. They’re supposed to be sneaking into this base. If they’re caught they’re going to be thrown in jail at best, killed at worst, but Nora wants to risk that for a practical joke? Again and again we see this insistence on incorporating comedy where it’s not only unnecessary, but actively interferes with other aspects of the scene.

Reaching a terminal, Penny inserts her finger and gains access via Pietro’s credentials. She’s really demonstrating this episode why she’s… pretty terrifying? I mean, Penny is an incredibly powerful fighter with a computer’s view of the world, access to everything in the most powerful Kingdom alongside its information, and she now has Maiden powers to boot. Which, I should add, it took her one fight to master (because remember, the heroes are now always as strong as they need to be to win…). Now that Watts is planning to hack her, I expect her to be an incredibly formidable enemy, just given the amount she could potentially do. I think Penny herself is too kind to exploit all that potential and as we’ll see via Pietro briefly taking control, she doesn’t always have the knowledge to use the tools at her disposal. But in the hands of someone like Watts? He’ll turn Penny into the ultimate weapon.

Access granted, they learn that they have to go “Right through central command!” Of course, Penny makes it sound like a fun game and the spy-movie music/cartoon lecture doesn’t help. Again, tone. It’s adorable! It just doesn’t fit sneaking into a military base with your lives on the line while Salem waits outside. That was a RWBY Chibi moment. 

Penny explains—twice—that Ruby can use her semblance to fly them all through central command and it’s treated like a revelation. At first, I was pretty confused because Ruby has been dong this for ages? She carried Weiss in “Argus Limited” and Nora during the Geist fight. But upon close inspection, what Penny seems to have “figured out” is that Ruby can carry multiple people at once because the “mass doesn’t matter.” Okay. Not a contradiction then, though I think RT could have made it a little more clear that Ruby was shocked at the idea of carrying multiple people, not carrying someone at all.

What I do take issue with though is Ruby mastering this skill instantaneously. I mean, why is Ruby being forced to try this on the fly (pun not intended)—Penny has known the layout of the building since they made this plan. She knew they had to get past central control and that it would be packed with people. She’s obviously thought about Ruby’s semblance a great deal—and why is she succeeding? Give me a Volume 7 where Ruby actually trains in this technique, set up via Harriet’s comment early on about her semblance, and then she’s victorious here when it finally matters. Or give me Ruby assuming she can pull off this incredibly difficult skill only to fall out of her semblance halfway through, a roomful of Atlas personnel staring at them. Then what? 

Not this.

This is a character who does everything perfectly on the first try without ever having to fail. Ruby is boring like this.

Crisis averted, we transfer to Ironwood who is… working with Watts.

What else is there to say? I’ve already laid out all the reasons why this is stupid and makes no sense. Others keep coming onto my posts to explain to me how Ironwood’s awful deeds up until now fully show his decent into villainy, conveniently ignoring the numerous limitations he was under and his choice to do what he thought was best for the world using inaccurate information. Ironwood was always a divisive character and many are happy to ignore the years’ worth of deconstruction done—a man who looks like the Evil Military General but actually isn’t—because they never liked him to begin with. Not liking him is fine, no one has to like any character, but I’m honestly shocked by the number of viewers who refuse to acknowledge how bad the writing is, even if it means defending a character they hate a teensy tiny bit (#SupernaturalVibes). As a friend put it, Ironwood now feels like a caricature of his former self, a Pure Evil Ironwood who appeared out of nowhere and is now here to stay. He shoots kids. He shoots unarmed civilians. He teams up with Salem’s men and tries to hack Penny. These are undeniably horrible acts, they’ve just been given to a character who never would have done them until RT randomly flipped the Evil switch.

The “RWBY” tag, alongside all the fluff moments of this episode, is now filled with posts encouraging Marrow to turn, yelling at the Ace Ops for being “bootlickers,” and capslock screaming at anyone who dared to speak up for Ironwood. It still sucks to have bad writing twisted into an attack on the fans and it’s going to continue to suck until at least the rest of Volume 8. I’d like to again remind everyone that Qrow teamed up with Tyrian a few episodes, yet because he’s again in Ruby’s graces, that was twisted into a ‘not that bad’ situation. The issue isn’t really that Ironwood is teaming up with one of Salem’s subordinates, but that he’s doing it to go against RWBYJNOR… the second a character teams up with Salem to get what Ruby wants (to not have her team in jail) then that’s totally fine… but that’s a wrinkle a lot of people are happy to ignore. 

So yeah, Ironwood is an idiot now too. Like Qrow also was last Volume. He really thinks Watts isn’t going to betray him somehow? Although, I do wonder if the chance to ruin Pietro’s creation outweighs his loyalty to Salem, but the point is that Ironwood can’t be sure of that either. At least he’s smart enough to keep Watts under continuous guard. He puts his hand on Watts’ shoulders and goes, “I’d hate for us to have to try motivating you. Again.”

So he tortures people too now? Like I said, caricature. This was Ironwood and we were given no clear idea of where he disappeared to.

RIP a great character.

Watts notices though that Pietro has apparently accessed a secure area and alerts Ironwood to it. I laugh that the information is just ¡EMERGENCY! In large, red letters. Ironwood immediately makes an announcement for everyone to be on guard. It’s a level 3 lockdown — that won’t impede the group leaving via airship! — and they’re to use “lethal force” if necessary. Weiss is disgusted.

As much as I disagree with making Ironwood into a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy  — he’s definitely wrong to be doing this — I also find myself rolling my eyes at reactions like that. Yes, Weiss. You attacked four operatives until they were knocked unconscious. Prevented an entire city from escaping Salem’s wrath, endangering them all. Now you’re breaking into the most classified room in the Kingdom to steal an equally qualified project and use it for your own means. There’s no reason why Ironwood would level his might against you. Is death still an extreme response? Yes. Should Weiss be acting like Ironwood is crazy for responding to them in an extreme manner? No. Her remark makes it sound like Ironwood is attacking her poor, innocent, defenseless team… not the team that’s been lying to him, betraying him, attacking him, and stealing from him. Not the team carrying deadly weapons into a facility to take what they want at any cost. 

With their presence known, May wants to go grab an airship. That’s the series now.

Meanwhile, Penny insists that they can still complete their mission and we see Nora come up with some sort of plan. 

Except, what plan was this?? What did she say to the group? ‘Hey, let’s wait around until some guy conveniently walks by with a full cup of coffee. Then we can trip him and the mug will fly alllll the way across this gap to land on a terminal, startling at least two workers. Except this guy will be hated by the whole room because he’s always messing things up—his coffee mug has been changed from #1 Dad to #1 Dud—so that this little mishap will create a ruckus that gets everyone involved, giving us the opportunity to slip by them all.’

Seriously, what? This kind of “plan” only works with someone like Clover, where we know he has a good luck semblance and thus all these unlikely pieces fall into place. I could absolutely buy Clover smiling smugly, working under the knowledge that he just has to wait around a few minutes and something will come along that works entirely in his favor. But Nora? How did she know any of this would happen? Obviously she couldn’t have, so what exactly was their intention if this coffee carrying, hated guy didn’t show up? RWBY, your contrived plots are showing.

I do, however, love the grimm Jaws poster. Jaws is an absolute favorite of mine, so seeing a reference to it in RWBY? A funny one at that? It almost makes up for how bad this episode is lol.

Because frankly I’m bored. The group sneaks around, criticizes May and Ironwood, briefly confuses me about Ruby’s semblance knowledge, and gets through tons of Atlas personnel in the stupidest way possible. I have to watch this guy running out of the room with coffee on his pants screaming, “WHHHYYY???” and he doesn’t notice the five girls standing right next to him. It’s silly. It’s boring. Luckily for RWBY, things are about to pick up in the second half.

After Ruby gets them upstairs and the final room is also conveniently devoid of people, Pietro takes control of Penny—including yellow possession eyes like Oscar has with Ozpin—and he...gets Amity started. That’s it. After a whole volume of ‘It’s not finished yet’ and ‘We barely have the resources’ and ‘Robyn stole what we were using to do idek what with’ he presses buttons for a while and they’re in. How good for them!

I do love that Penny calls Pietro “Dad” though. I’m here for the android-father relationship.

While Pietro works we turn to Blake, Weiss, and Nora. Blake tries to convince the audience that Ruby and Yang had an actual fight with, “I’ve never seen Yang and Ruby fight like this.” Yeah, because no one in this group has ever said the sliiiiightest thing against Ruby, so you all read the tinniest disagreement as a “fight” to be worried about. I mean, doesn’t RT have friends to draw inspiration from? They’ve never disagreed about Huge and Complex Questions before? Never gotten pissed and then shrugged it off the next time you want to text? RWBY’s idea of a diverse friend group feels like many other writers’ idea of a sibling relationship: anyone with an actual sibling goes, “What is this?” Speaking of, Weiss explains that sisters often have “very different ideas about what’s right” as if, again, people don’t have different ideas? Just in general? Why is this suddenly a sister thing? She’s clearly thinking about Winter, but doesn’t actually bring it up, so all we’re left with is the same situation we had last Volume. Weiss thinks she’s right, Winter is wrong, and they’re just going down their separate roads because there’s definitely no reason to re-examine any choices here. It’s all static. 

Until Winter betrays Ironwood, of course. 

Nora tries to reassure Blake that the group will be fine (ha) even though they’ve split, the irony being that we, the audience, know they just got wrecked by the Hound. Jaune is a great leader though, Oscar has grown so much, Yang could defend them all in a fight, and Ren… well, she can’t think of anything to say about Ren. I hate the Nora is acting like Ren has drawn away from her for no reason, after she chose to kiss him—without consent—rather than listening to what was bothering him, then proceeded to pretend that this mystery problem never existed. What does she expect? I do, however, like the general acknowledgement that she doesn’t know who she is without Ren. Who is Nora? Someone who is “strong and hit[s] stuff?”

See, this feels like RT writing self-consciously because Nora doesn’t have much of a personality. Oh, on a surface level she’s bursting with it, but past the bubbly exterior? That single layer? We can add maybe one thing to this “Likes Ren, is strong, hits stuff” list: she’s funny. That’s it. Anything else we might add like “she’s loyal” or “she’s kind” is just a generic characteristic of this entire team. They’re all meant to be crazy talented good guys and even the “is strong” aspect is suspect when others frequently pull off attacks as showy as Nora’s hammer hits. So who is she? What are Nora’s dreams? What are her hobbies? Her fears? Her history? We’ve seen a single flashback of her on the streets and one scene back at Beacon where she listens to music and reads a magazine. Seven years worth of material and that’s it. There’s a reason why the go-to, non-combat action for Nora in fics is “makes pancakes.” We know so little about her still. 

So I was excited for a brief, shining moment. Yes! Explore who Nora is outside of being strong and hitting stuff! … and then her big action this episode is, as she says, being strong and hitting something. Don’t get me wrong, outside of that setup it’s pretty epic. I like Nora going to those lengths to save Penny and I absolutely love the repercussions of the choice: a broken aura, passing out, and badass lightning scars all over her arms and neck (especially when women often aren’t allowed to accumulate scars in visual media). That’s pretty damn awesome. It’s just that it comes on the heels of the story insisting that Nora is more than this, that we’ll learn something new about her… and we haven’t. This is indeed cool, but we already knew that Nora was willing to crazy lengths by hitting things really hard. That’s already her established norm.

At least this moment has some really nice characterization alongside the stupidity. The conversation between Ruby and Penny is just plain stupid. Penny wants to stay to help with the evacuations, but Pietro says she should come with him in Amity. Why? As Ruby says, because then she’ll be up in the sky and Salem won’t be able to access the relic.

That’s what Ironwood wanted to do! We could have had this conflict episodes ago with you all working with him! I really can’t with this cast. Also, the rest of this is still confusing. I thought pretty much everyone was in the slums by now, so what evacuation are they talking about? Do they plan to evacuate everyone in Mantle out of the kingdom somehow… like Ironwood wanted to do with Atlas? And why are they acting like Amity is evacuating some people too? I thought they were just using it as a communication device? To add insult to injury, Ruby then contradicts herself a minute later when she tells Harriet that Ironwood can’t have the relic because “Salem will find her way to the relic no matter where you go.” Ruby, if Salem can access the relic high in the sky she can also access Penny in the sky. If you believe that literally nowhere is safe then why are you sending Penny away under the claim that she—and via her the Relic—will be safer? If you want Penny in Amity to lessen the chance of Salem getting the Relic, why can’t Penny be in Atlas while simultaneously (hopefully) getting a whole slew of people to safety? 

I’m continually confused by this “plan” of theirs. Their claims just flip-flop according to what (supposedly) contrasts them with Ironwood. Even though that’s not actually the case.

Penny is me, sad while watching this train wreck of a scene. 

So yeah, the Ace Ops are here. I’ve wondered since the trailer why Weiss looked smug while everyone else was startled. Turns out it’s because of her line, “So, your first time losing to us wasn’t enough?” I can’t express how much I dislike all the girls’ personalities now. I want to shake some compassion and humility into them. Plus, they never should have won that fight in the first place. Marrow yells, “We were holding back!” but coming from the team’s weakest member it reads as defensive. Like we’re supposed to go, ‘Lol yeah right, Marrow. Just admit you got your ass kicked,’ even tough the Ace Ops should have wiped the floor with them, holding back or not. That’s my biggest takeaway from this fight: it’s the reverse of what we should have gotten. The Ace Ops should have beaten Team RWBY with ease and struggled greatly against an android Maiden, not falling before a bunch of teens and succeeding against Penny if not for Nora’s timely breakthrough. Your half-trained cast of growing heroes should not come across as more powerful than an intelligently designed weapon now wielding magic.  

Before the fight starts we get a whole lot of lines that are, frankly, frustrating. Vine tells Penny, “I thought you were supposed to protect the people, not hurt them” which is true enough. Penny is taking action that is putting a lot of people in danger, regardless of the fact that Ruby is at the helm. Problem is, the Ace Ops then blame her for Winter’s injuries and “stealing” the power? That’s not the issue here. The issue is Penny’s blind loyalty to Ruby, but by having the Ace Ops back a stance that is clearly inaccurate—Penny didn’t cause Winter’s injuries, Cinder did; Penny didn’t steal the powers, she was encouraged to take them—it makes them come across as Very Evil people who will twist things to make poor Penny look like the villain. Even if this is a case of Ace Ops having bad intel (which seems unlikely. Wouldn’t Winter have told them what happened?) RT has avoided letting the Ace Ops take a justified stance here because that would make them look too sympathetic… even though they do have multiple justified stances to take. Like, ‘Hey, stop keeping half a kingdom here where Salem can easily kill them all’ or, ‘Hey, why did you spend months betraying Ironwood and then turn on us instead of trying to find a compromise?’ Even, ‘Why did your uncle help kill our leader?’ There’s plenty that the Ace Ops should be rightfully pissed about, so choosing Penny and Winter out of everything feels like RT is firmly backing them into Ironwood’s corner: you’re just bad now and bad people blame innocent girls, rather than acknowledging the actual wrongs done against them. 

So we have Ruby contradicting herself and the Ace Ops backing warped ideas that make them look worse than they actually are. Adding to the stupidity is the fact that Elm mentions that Winter is in “critical condition” and Weiss… doesn’t care. Harriet then tells Ruby that she’s “throwing [her] in jail right next to your uncle, runt” and... Ruby doesn’t care. Qrow is missing and Ruby just found out he’s been captured by Ironwood, yet there’s no reaction whatsoever. This show continues to go hard on the ‘screw adults’ mentality, huh? Ozpin needs to keep quiet and is horrible for coming back. Ironwood is now a cartoon villain. Winter made the wrong choice so no one cares about her anymore, not even her sister. The Ace Ops remain enemies despite trying to talk things out. Qrow? Barely know him. Who’s he? This is a Ruby loves Penny episode. There isn’t enough emotional nuance for her to care about him too.

The sad thing is I adore Nuts&Dolts. In a different context these moments would be a goldmine for me. 

If anything, this episode feels worse than the majority of last week’s because there are good things here that have been thrown into a bad setup. I can’t get excited for the group’s battles when I see who they’re attacking. It’s hard to squee over Ruby hugging Penny when she doesn’t react to Qrow. Watching Nora go all Thor feels like it only has half its potential when it’s coming out of a very messing, ‘I’m more than just being strong and hitting things… which is why I’ll continue being strong and hitting things.’ RWBY has excellent moments set into a terrible story.

The fight, at least, is exciting. The Ace Ops goad Penny into stepping away so they can trap the rest of Ruby’s team—smart—and she’s forced to hold her own while Weiss tries to break through with her knight, then Nora overloads the system. To be frank, I’m not great at analyzing combat. Not unless I’m looking for something specific like whether a win is justified. I’ve already mentioned above the broad issue of the Ace Ops very nearly beating the most powerful fighter next to Salem herself, yet failing so spectacularly against Team RWBY. Outside of that context though? I really enjoyed this. Lots of tight action, creative attacks, teamwork, some emotional pauses throughout… it feels like a pretty solid battle. Put it on Youtube as a clip, outside of the rest of the story’s messiness, and you’ve got yourself a fantastic watch. 

We can’t stay in the combat forever though. During all this Weiss calls the Ace Ops “cowards” for making it four vs. one. You know, RWBY should really just do away with dialogue and make the show purely action because the cast frequently sounds so stupid when they speak. Like her comment about Ironwood’s lockdown… really Weiss? ‘Yes, we might be wanted criminals who betrayed this group in the worst possible way, but how dare they not do the honorable thing and have three of their teammates sit out while trying to capture us? Even though the girl they’re trying to capture has magic. I mean, the nerve of them!’

Weiss, at this point I’m not sure how to explain to you that the people you’ve made into your enemies do not owe you a fair fight. 

Another detail: we get to see Ruby fall off the edge of the walkway and this time she remembers she can fly! A definite improvement from Volume 6.

Finally: by the time Penny’s eyes go full Maiden in Elm’s grip, I think we’ve seen everything from our trailer. Episode 4 will truly be a mystery.

Ironwood has, of course, been watching the fight this whole time. When it looks like the Ace Ops will lose against the team he means to send in reinforcements, but Watts says he has “a message for your operatives.” Instead of capturing Penny they steal one of her swords instead, ending with a shot on Marrow looking conflicted.

Because remember, there’s no actual moral grayness in this story. The protagonists are right and everyone else is wrong. It’s (supposedly) black and white. Which means that if the Ace Ops have any hope of surviving this Volume and being seen as anything other than evil bootlickers, they have to join with Ruby. Marrow seems primed to do that.

Am I surprised? No. Disappointed? Always lol.

May has the airship ready to go and they fly off… despite the shields. And the lockdown. Consistency? Who’s she? Nora is said to be “in bad shape” and after another hug Penny leaves to hide in Amity, even though Ruby thinks that hiding is a useless, cowardly choice. Just not when she and her allies choose to do it.

We end the episode with Watts receiving Penny’s sword and making the statement, “If you can’t beat them… then make them join you.” I have to say, his cheesy villainy is something I continue to enjoy, even if it’s heavy handed at times. Watts is just fun. I do have to say though: if Penny is hacked, what does that say about her agency? We double-downed on the ‘real girl’ narrative by giving her the Maiden powers, but she’s simultaneously synthetic enough that a single piece of her can remove all autonomy? It once again feels like RT isn’t sure what point they’re trying to make, they’re just chucking a lot of themes at the wall and seeing what sticks. Still, we’ll have to let it all play out before making any judgements.

And that’s it for this week. It seems like this is a slightly shorter recap than normal, though that may be because I struggle with discussing pure action sequences, which made up a decent chunk of this episode. I’ll no doubt return to the Ace Ops vs. Penny fight when I’m not on a self-imposed, one day deadline for posting. The only thing left is to update the Bingo Card, but I don’t think we made any headway this week. So... good job, RWBY? 

I’m still going to hold off on the civilian’s square until Salem’s army actually attacks, as well as the two day timeline square.

No Winter this episode

Watts is teaming up with Ironwood which is… so much worse than him teaming up with Jacques again. Does a square get an X if the canon is even worse than what you assumed it would be??

Maria was mentioned this episode. Jury’s out on whether she’ll actually do anything.

Atlas is still standing, we knew Penny was heading towards a hack so it’s not much of a cliffhanger, no Qrow, no Ozpin, no Neo or Cinder.

It certainly looks like we can check off “The team gets Amity up and running,” but let’s just see if there are any problems next episode. If the problem is only ‘We would have launched it if not for Salem’s attack’ or something, I’m checking it off. The point is it would have worked.

I’m also leaning towards “More obvious Blake/Yang implications without confirming a relationship” given Blake’s heart-to-heart with Nora… but let’s see if the Volume does anything more egregious.

All in all (and perhaps despite what I’ve written above), I don’t think it’s fair to totally drag this episode. As said, this feels like a strong episode in a bad story, something that I would have LOVED if a) Salem weren’t here and b) the ‘ethical dilemma’ wasn’t boiled down to a ‘Team Ruby is good’ and ‘Ironwood and everyone associated with him is evil’ situation. It’s an episode whose tone and character action belong in a different version of RWBY. If you gave us this fun episode in an earlier Volume against a Pure Evil antagonist? It would have been great. 

Ah well. It is what it is. Expect more emotional whiplash when we come back and everyone learns that Oscar has been kidnapped by Salem’s talking pooch 🙃

See you then! 💜

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby strings #mymetas #rwby recaps #apologies if this Recap is messier than normal #I have a zoom meeting in five minutes lol #gotta go fast!

[buckybeardreams]

Unwanted

Chapters: 5/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Words: 2,258

Tony bit his lip, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was sticking up in weird places from trying and failing to sleep last night. There were bags under his eyes that made him look like he hadn't slept in weeks and, well, really that wasn't too far off. Sometimes he drank enough to pass out for a little bit here and there, but he never just got a solid night's sleep. To be fair, Tony didn't sleep all that well even before he found his soulmate and then pretty much rejected him by never calling him.

Tony didn't sleep well when he was alone, but even when he wasn't and he did fall asleep instead of tossing and turning restlessly before giving up and going for a cup of coffee, Tony didn't sleep more then five hours tops unless he was passed out drunk. So maybe that's one of the reasons that he drinks so much.

He wasn't drinking right now, well, not much. He had a couple of beers, but that was nothing. Just a little something to take the edge off before he went to re-meet Brock's new mate. Tony sighed, took one last look at his disheveled appearance and flinched away from it, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch before heading out.

It was a cold day, windy and blustery with clouds hanging overhead that threatened to soak the inhabitants of the city as they walked down the street in large groups, pushing and shoving, each desperate to get where they're going before the rain ruined their hair or makeup. Tony was far less concerned and when the rain did come down and he was left with wet hair clinging to him and soaked clothes and a gloomy atmosphere that the rain couldn't wash away, well, he thought at least his hair wasn't sticking up all over the place.

He showed up on Brock's doorstep and was relieved when it was Brock who opened the apartment door. Brock was grinning, but it faltered slightly when he saw Tony.

"Hey, you okay?"

Tony nodded.

"Yeah, 'course. Now are you gonna invite me in or make me stay out in the hall for dinner?" Tony said, trying and failing to sound like his usual snarky self.

Brock still looked concerned, but he nodded and stepped aside to let Tony in.

"Yeah, of course, come in."

Tony entered into a small hall, kicking off his shoes before heading further into the apartment. He froze when he saw Steve sitting on the couch next to Sam. Tony's heart raced in his chest and his mind was thrown through a loop, because what the fuck was his soulmate doing here?

"Tony, this is Steve, Sam's friend." Brock watched him anxiously, wondering how he would react.

Steve was staring at Tony, clearly just as caught off guard as Tony was. Steve looked far more put together than Tony did, like he wasn't completely miserable about his mate rejecting him, and didn't that just make Tony feel way worse about looking like a wet rat. Sam's confusion quickly gave way to understanding as he put the pieces together. Anthony, who works at a bar, and is Steve's soulmate. Of course it would be Tony. By the looks of it Brock was already aware of this. Sam sent Brock a stern look and Brock returned it with a sheepish one.

"What?" Brock asked innocently, going to settle in his Alpha's lap.

Sam rolled his eyes, but hugged him close. Tony and Steve were still staring at each other, neither one moving or saying anything. Tony was the one to break the silence after a few more awkwardly drawn out moments.

"No, you're not Steve." Tony shook his head in denial. "You can't be Steve."

Steve's mouth opened and closed a few times like he was trying to say something, but couldn't quite get the words out.

"I am... um, Steve," Steve managed to get out, blushing over how awkward it was.

Tony rubbed at his temples and shook his head again.

"No, I can't- I can't do this right now."

Tony headed straight back to the door, grabbing his shoes, not even bothering to put them on, and walked out. Steve whimpered, looking hurt and lost and like he kinda wanted to chase after Tony, but was also afraid of just being rejected again. Brock just groaned, grumbling under his breath about being way too fucking stubborn before heading after Tony.

"That's- That was my soulmate," Steve said, somehow sounding both shocked and heartbroken.

"Yeah, I kinda got that," Sam said, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder. "You okay, man?"

Steve swallowed and nodded, but truthfully, he had no fucking clue if he was okay or not. He was completely blindsided by the sudden appearance and then just as sudden disappearance of his soulmate and he had no clue how to feel about that. He thought devastated might be the right word, but then somehow that didn't seem like it fit at all. Steve felt like he was dying, and no, he did not think that was an exaggeration.

*****

"Tony, stop!" Brock called out to him. "Don't make me run after you."

Tony groaned, coming to a halt at the end of the hall and turning to glare at Brock.

"You knew," Tony accused.

"I did, or at least I was like ninety percent sure about it."

"You should have told me. You know how I feel about Alphas."

"I know, but you told me-"

"I know what I said!" Tony snapped. "Don't use my own words against me. I confided in you and you used it against me."

Tony swallowed back the lump in his throat, feeling betrayed and confused. He wanted an Alpha, but he didn't want the things that inevitably would follow, like being controlled or looked down on. Most of all he was scared that Steve would be perfect and Tony wouldn't be good enough for him.

"Tony... I'm sorry, but I knew you were going to be stubborn about this. You told me that you regret not calling him. This is your chance to get to know him. You might like him if you give him a chance."

Tears pricked at Tony's eyes. He wasn't worried about not liking Steve, well, he was worried about that. Mostly though he was worried about falling too hard, too fast, only to be rejected. He wasn't the kind of Omega to just submit and say yes, sir. He had opinions and dreams and no intention of letting anyone else tell him how to live his life, but those weren't the kinds of things that most Alphas wanted in a mate.

"Tony, I've spent time with Steve and he's literally the softest Alpha I've ever met, and I'm mated to Sam so that's really saying something. My Alpha is totally wrapped around my finger."

Tony smiled a little at that.

"Sam does seem nice... for an Alpha," Tony teased.

Brock laughed and nudged his shoulder.

"He is and Steve is too. Just talk to him, Tony. See what happens."

Tony groaned, but let Brock lead him back to the apartment. Steve was still in shock, only a few minutes having passed since Tony walked out. It wasn't nearly enough time to process what had happened and suddenly Tony reappeared. Tony shifted on his feet, his hand slipped into Brock's, his palm sweaty. Brock squeezed his hand encouragingly and leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

"Do you want some space?"

Tony licked his lips, not sure he wanted this at all, but he owed himself this. He needed to at least try or he'd always be left wondering if it could have worked out. Besides, Brock was not going to let this go until Tony at least gave it a try. He swallowed down his fears and nodded. Brock nodded, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and pulled Sam deeper into the apartment. Steve and Tony stared at each other and it started to feel tense and awkward.

Tony groaned.

"We need to talk."

Steve looked nervous, certain that Tony was about to reject him, but he nodded.

"I don't like Alphas," Tony blurted out when the silence dragged on.

Steve flinched like Tony had slapped him.

"Oh," Steve said, unable to hide his disappointment.

He just knew that his Omega was about to reject him and Steve wasn't sure he would survive the rejection.

"Yeah..." Tony said. "I'm willing to give this a try though, but if you try to go all Alpha on me..."

Tony shook his head and Steve's brows furrowed.

"I don't like the way Alphas feel entitled to an Omega's body. Like Omegas are beneath them and only there for an Alpha's pleasure."

Steve bit his lip, not wanting to get his hopes up. He was pretty sure his Omega was suggesting that he wanted to be the dominant one in their relationship. Or maybe he was just saying he didn't want to submit to an asshole Alpha. Either way, Steve could definitely work with this.

"I would never force myself on you, Anthony."

"Tony."

Steve blinked at him in surprise before smiling softly. He didn't want to assume that Tony was comfortable enough with him to use a nickname, but it touched Steve to know that his Omega was trying. Tony wanted to give this a try even if he was worried about it and that was enough for Steve. He would be the best Alpha ever, because he would be exactly what Tony needed him to be. He knew already that he'd give Tony anything he wanted and he'd try his best to be whatever Tony wanted him to be.

"Tony," He breathed out.

The word rolled off his tongue like velvet and Tony felt all fluttery inside. He cleared his throat, feeling the urge to escape the foreign sensation.

"How old are you even?" Tony blurted out, feeling awkward and uncertain in a way that he hated feeling. He was so not used to the warm feeling inside of him or the desire to go to Steve and touch him and be held close.

Steve blinked at the question, caught off guard by it.

"Um, I'm not that young."

Tony raised a brow at him and Steve squirmed.

"You look young," Tony pointed out.

"I'm legal!" Steve said defensively.

"So you're what? Eighteen?"

Steve looked down at his feet, looking awfully small for a six foot, two hundred pound hunk of pure muscle. Tony took that to be a yes.

"You're what? Ten years younger than me?" Tony said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're practically still a pup. I can't date you."

Steve pouted.

"I don't want to date you. I want to mate with you. I want you to be mine."

"That's infinitely worse," Tony said, flinging his hands up in exasperation. "You do realize that right? That's so much worse."

"No, it's not. There's nothing wrong with an age gap, besides no one would judge us for it. The goddess chose you for me," Steve insisted.

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Or maybe she chose you for me. Ever thought that maybe it's not the Alpha that owns the Omega, but the Omega that owns the Alpha?" Tony snarked.

Steve blushed.

"Okay," Steve said, a little breathless. "I'll be yours, if only you'll have me."

Tony narrowed his eyes at him.

"You'd let me own you?"

"God, yes. Please, just don't reject me."

Tony licked his lips.

"Okay, come here, pup ."

Steve's blush deepened at being called a pup, but he didn't object to it. The moment Steve was within reach Tony grabbed his shirt and slammed their lips together, turning them so he could shove Steve up against the wall. Tony's hair was still dripping wet and his shirt was drenched. It got Steve wet, soaking through his own sweater, but he didn't care.

"Okay, then, pretty Alpha. You want to play, then let's play," Tony said, coming as close to a growl as an Omega could.

Steve gasped when Tony's hand grasped him in between his legs and groped him through his pants. His face lit up bright red and Tony smirked at his blushing Alpha. He was so fucking sweet. Tony thought that maybe, just maybe, this could work out, but they were going to have to agree on one very important thing if there was going to be any chance of them mating.

"Let's be clear, I still want your knot, but I'm in charge here and you do what I say or I'll throw you out and you won't get another chance."

Steve swallowed, nodding rapidly.

"Yes, sir."

Tony smirked, licking his lips.

"Good boy," Tony purred in his ear, his tongue darting out to lick his neck, his teeth sharp on his skin.

Steve whimpered, his head falling to the side to give his Omega better access. Clearly, the goddess knew what she was doing when she paired them up, because this was better than Steve had dared to hope for. Steve had always been excited about having a mate, but he had always thought he'd present as an Omega. When he didn't, he was concerned that he'd never be a good enough Alpha, but the moment he saw Tony in that bar he knew that he was in love, knew that he'd do anything to please this man.

Now here they were and Tony wanted him, wanted to use him, and Steve was in heaven. There was nothing that he wanted more than to please Tony, to be used by him, to be ordered around by his pretty little Omega.

Tony tried not to think about how young and naive Steve was. He didn't want to admit that a part of him was thrilled to be more experienced, to be the one teaching his Alpha about pleasure. It was pretty obvious that Steve had no experience, because when Tony kissed him Steve had no idea what he was doing. He had no rhythm and he clearly didn't know what to do with his tongue when Tony licked at his lips and dove inside his mouth. Tony thought it was cute though. Steve squirmed and whimpered, his blush spreading down his neck, and Tony ate it all up.

"Fuck, you're cute," Tony groaned when he pulled away. "Maybe I'll keep you after all."

#stony #stony fic #superhusbands #stevetony #steve x tony #steve rogers/tony stark #steve/tony #a/b/o au #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o verse #a/b/o fic #avengers a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #unwanted #my fic updates #ao3 wip #ao3 fic #ao3 work #ao3 writer #tony stark #steve rogers #iron man #captain america #marvel fic #marvel #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu #mcu fic #the avengers fanfiction

[followerofmercy]

Hey for anyone wondering, 

Ketamine fucking sucks

Details of being on drugs at the hospital under the cut. We all write fanfic and need to know what it feels like okay.

Ok, so the other day I came out of surgery for some cauterization of a bleed that had started because of my tonsillectomy about a week ago. I was in a decent bit of pain. Not excruciating or enough that I really felt I needed painkillers, but enough the nurse wanted to give me morphine... which didn’t do anything for some reason. I’m magical.

(Also I’m not exaggerating. The nurse told my mother later “yeah she didn’t respond at all to the morphine. It was weird)

Anyway. This sweet, wonderful white girl that wanted to do no harm suggested ketamine. She warned me that it was a dissociative and can make people see things, so I shouldn’t go chasing the pink elephants down the hall

I was like, sure! She seems to think it’s a good idea! I’m still buzzing from anesthesia and will probably feel the cauterization pain soon. I’ll take some ketamine! 

To preface: the most recreational drugs I’ve ever done were some CBD to help with anxiety, a shot of vodka that I immediately threw up and a tiny bit too much Jaeger on a camping trip. 

So the sweet, wonderful nurse puts the syringe of ketamine up to my IV. I’m laying there all cheerful and serene, chatting away, and then I became a cat trying to fight off the 2AM demons. 

First the room started spinning. It was like the one time I actually got drunk and tried to stand to drink water out of a tarp (different story), but this time I was Very Aware that it is not normal. I forgot where I was and couldn’t tell if I was in the operating room before I went under, in the operating room mid-surgery, or was in the post operation observation (where I actually was). Time passed weird. It seemed to loop back on itself, stop, start and reverse at random.

The blurred vision continued and scared the shit out of me. I don’t recall hallucinating anything specific, but I couldn’t see people except as colors with parts of faces on them. At one point my anesthesiologist came in to check on me and I have NO idea what he asked or what I responded with. 

I recall that conversations happened between me and some people, but I have no fucking clue what their contents were or how I responded. I don’t think I sounded high off my ass? I have a talent for giving meaningful feedback when I’m half asleep, high on meds or very distressed. I do remember laughing when my nurse went to go check some paperwork and then asking her “was I laughing?” when she got back.

Note: nothing was funny. I just started laughing like a hyena and abruptly stopped.

It’s hard to remember details, but the biggest sensations were the vertigo, the fucked up time, not knowing where I was and not knowing who I was. It was like all my higher thoughts stopped being my own. It wasn’t like an out of body experience or watching myself through a movie, more like I had become a dolphin/chimpanzee/etc with some random human’s thoughts thrown on top. 

Thankfully I was too weak/tripping balls to like, get up and run screaming butt naked down the hallways, but damn I could wiggle on that gurney. 

Again, I am Very Calm in most situations. There’s not much that will get me to have a full on freakout, BUT APPARENTLY KETAMINE IS ONE OF THEM. The worst thing is I dunno if I actually verbalized any of this shit or if I was just stuck in a circus from hell in my head with a :| expression.

When I came down off of it enough to talk reasonably again, the very first thing out of my mouth was “Please don’t ever give me that again” lol. 

My mother got to see me after I was able to ask the nurse to never ever ever EVER give me ketamine, and please put in my chart not to give me ketamine. Oh, but I was still very much on ketamine. She said it was like watching me try to fight off a nightmare.

I struggled to enough consciousness that I was like “yeah I’m good to go home please get me out of here so I can sleep and get me away from the demon juice.” I think I actually called it demon juice lol

Overall extremely disorienting, unpleasant and frightening. Would not recommend. I cannot understand how people do ketamine for fun.

#drugs #medical #ketamine #daily life with mercy #don't do drugs kids #and if you do #do normal people drugs like weed and alcohol #or vape #seriously vaping is awesome and fuck anyone that says otherwise

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 17

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger!

Phone calls will have to do.

Martin has an uneventful Friday night.

“Just- what am I supposed to do, wait for you all to save up for a holiday?”

Martin felt silly, pacing back and forth on the beach and yelling into his phone. A whole day spent too nervous to say anything in that horrible building and there was no keeping it down now, even for his mother. So there he was, outside and cold and freaking out a bit.

Tim sighed. “Look, we’re working on it, but when we got back here we had a mountain of work waiting for us. It’s not the first time this has happened, but if I were the paranoid one I’d say Elias is trying to keep us busy.” 

Pinching the skin between his eyes, Martin said, “I know, I know, it’s not your fault.” Except for all of the stress they’d caused him, all of it for nothing- “Where does it all leave me, though? What can I do?”

“Stay put and do what you’ve been doing. We’ll work things out on our end, but if Evan is… missing, then it’s best you keep your head down. Maybe that’s what he’s doing now that Peter’s back.” Tim paused. “I suppose taking a quick holiday isn’t in the cards?”

“No, not really. Besides, I’d like to still be there in case, I dunno, something happens? Be the man on the ground?”

Tim snorted. “Well, ‘man on the ground’, do your best to stay there. We still don’t know what all that Fairchild business was about, either.” 

“Right. Yeah.” Martin took a moment to tilt his head up at the sky, almost entirely dark. “So, you’ll be the one to contact if things start going sideways?” 

“Seems like it, though I’ll see if we can set up a group text or something. We used to have one for the three of us, but for reasons I will not explore here it was unjustly deemed ‘superfluous’.” Tim seemed to cover the receiver for a moment. “I stand corrected. According to Sasha, it was ‘a gratuitous distraction that only served to flood our notifications with garbage’.”

“...Was it?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Tim’s grin was so audible to be infectious.

Martin laughed a little. “That’ll work. Just in case you can’t be reached.”

“I’ll let you go for the night and give you the details on that once I’m done with all this homework.” There was an exaggerated sound of papers rustling. “Really, I can’t describe the amount of work he’s piled on us. It almost loops back around to Elias being normal Elias.”

“Sure. Good luck.”

“Same to you. And sorry again for the raincheck on dinner!”

“It’s fine. Nothing you could’ve done.”

Click.

Pocketing his mobile, Martin rubbed his face with both hands and willed himself to calm down. It was unfair to be angry at them for needing to do their actual jobs, but if rent needed to be paid then they shouldn’t have promised anything. All he had at that moment was the hope that eventually, long after he was thrown in with Evan, one of them would have the courtesy to come back and record the event for posterity.

“Statement of Ms. Blackwood, regarding the disappearance of her son at his place of employment,” Martin mumbled, kicking at some stones on the ground. “Ugh, that’s morbid.”

Martin looked out over the dark sea, but all that served was to sting his eyes and push his mood down even further. What a horrible habit. Look from the lighthouse, look out to sea, for there is no-

Best to keep his eyes down for the foreseeable future. Unless he’s high up, at which point he’ll keep his eyes anywhere but down. And if he’s stuck in some secret, impossible room, well, he won’t remember which way to look anyway.

--

He was at the table, microwave steamed vegetables and some leftover something or other plated in front of him. Across the table his mother ate in silence save for the dull chewing sounds no one could possibly help. At that moment they were making Martin’s teeth grind. 

A quiet meal could be so aggravating with the wrong person. The tiniest sounds, chewing, breathing, sighing, a cacophony of what should be inoffensive signs of life grating on the ears. 

He’d often heard about the bad effects television during meals could have on family. There had never been one visible from the kitchen, but he could think of many reasons why having one would’ve been a blessing in that house. Even if the one they had could be heard from the other room, there was still nothing to look at but his own plate, the terrible window view, and his mother.

“Is it a porch night?” Martin asked, poking at a sad-looking slice of carrot with his fork. “It’s gotten colder, and darker. Before long it’ll be dark before I get home each day.”

His mother took another bite, a sigh escaping her lips. “Yes.”

“We can’t stay out long,” he warned.

One of her nostrils twitched, but she said nothing. 

“I mean it. You never cover your face.”

“I know what’s best for myself.”

“So do I. It stings my eyes.”

“You won’t outgrow that sensitivity by avoiding it.”

Martin scoffed. “I don’t avoid it.”

This earned him a dainty sniff. “If that were true it wouldn’t sting anymore.”

“Would you-”

“Go get tea started. You’ve let your mouth run enough for one night.”

Martin stood with a sudden force that made him feel like an incensed child who hadn’t gotten his way. He bit his tongue and did as he was told, leaving her to finish her meal. 

The filled kettle was placed gently onto the stove with shaking hands. After switching the stovetop dial, Martin stood with his back to the rest of the kitchen. Tea was made and served in quiet, the tremor still clinging to his hands. The warmth of the cup did nothing to quell the shakes, but if it was noticeable she made no remarks.

Now it was the low sound of her blowing on her tea. The loud sipping noise as she tested the taste. Lip smacking, fingers tapping, everything dragged at the back of his skull, why do people make such noise when they do things?

Finally, he was able to take the cups, his own almost entirely full, and fill the room with clattering and the rush of water out of the sink. It would be enough to rinse for the moment. There would be plenty of time to wash things at any other time.

When the time came, her hand just barely touching his arm, they prepared themselves and went outside. Her breaths were long and loud, in and out through her nose. Though Martin covered his face as best he could, his eyes watered all the same. 

How could she enjoy this?

The walk back indoors, the removal of shoes, the slow movement to her room. Martin just barely stopped himself from slamming her door behind him after getting her to bed, though he had no doubt she’d make a comment on his impatience the next day. There was nothing left but to turn in early himself. What else could he do?

The staircase towered before him, each step upon it harder than the last despite his long legs, but he didn’t look up. Martin could learn from his mistakes if he tried, and he was trying. 

Could she hear him taking his sweet time? Did every creak of the steps set her teeth on edge as she tried to fall asleep?

Martin made it upstairs eventually, and to his bedroom after, though by that point he knew sleep wasn’t coming for him just yet. Checking his phone, he found no new messages or calls, as if he hadn’t kept the thing on vibrate to be alerted of anything new. He dropped the thing on his bedside table after flipping his alarm off. There was work to be done the next day, but he didn’t owe Peter an early start on a Saturday.

As Martin sat on the edge of his bed, the day washed over him and he slumped forward, forearms pressed against knees. He gently tugged his hair out of its elastic, not that it had been all that held back by the end. Running fingers through it, brushing it back and scratching at his scalp, Martin let himself sulk for one more horrible minute.

If they’d stayed, he probably wouldn’t have been able to go out to dinner with them anyway. Irresponsible to have thought otherwise, really. Now there was no reason to worry about it.

Apparently this was what the evening would be: Martin Blackwood feeling snappish and awful.

He would apologize the next day, he thought. His mother, while not helpful, hadn’t actually done anything to make him cross besides exist nearby, and Tim certainly didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Martin’s panic and frustration. Only one person deserved that, but chewing out Peter was a sure way to get himself disappeared. So, the options were limited.

He was lucky Jon wasn’t the one who had to call him. How was he not supposed to be angry after Jon worked harder than anyone to convince him that things would work out? The man had outright promised to help Evan even though they had no real plan on how to do that. Sure, it had been heartfelt and sweet, and determination did nice things to his face-

Martin groaned, pulling down at his cheeks. No, anything but that. He wanted to be angry and petty and upset about his possible upcoming death, not disappointed that his one-sided thing was even more doomed than before. Sure, after a bit he would get over it, but it had been a while since he’d fancied someone a little. It was a nice feeling. 

It was even better writing material. Perhaps that would help, writing. At the very least it could prevent another weird scene at the dinner table. What was that line that popped into his head earlier? Could be the start of something cathartic, even if it ended up being complete rubbish.

Reaching down to his nightstand, Martin jumped at the sound of his phone buzzing against wood. From his hunched position he could see an unknown number. He grimaced. Of course he’d get a weird spam call during all this. He let it ring and grabbed his notebook and pencil. There had been a thought earlier, some lines that had a nice cadence despite being off the cuff. A bit boring, but perhaps they could be worked with. Look from the lighthouse-

“Hello, Martin. I’m calling- right, this is Jonathan Sims? From the Magnus Institute? I had Tim give me your number but I’m realizing now that he might not have told you yet. I-”

Scrambling for the phone, Martin dropped the notebook right onto his toes. “Shit-” 

“-wanted to discuss some things with you. Let me know if-”

Finally, Martin managed to press the right button and answer the call. “Sorry, hi, it’s Martin. I didn’t-”

“Oh- yes, hi. Am I interrupting, or-”

Quickly, Martin said, “No, no, I just don’t usually answer unknown numbers, so-” 

“Right, right, I thought that might be the case. Glad I caught you, then.” Jon cleared his throat. “So, how are you, ah, holding up?”

He thought he could sense an attempt in Jon’s tone to be casual. Martin’s mouth quirked downward. “Fine, I guess. Still here.”

“Good. Tim said you’d had some concerns, so-”

“Not much anyone can do about them, is there?” Jesus, could he not be snippy at someone for five minutes? “Sorry, it’s… it’s been a long day. Tim told you, then?”

��Yes, he did. We’ll do our best to get at least one of us back there soon, if not the whole team. Elias wasted no time getting us back to work. For now, phones will have to do.” 

Martin waited for a few seconds, but there was nothing after. “So… is that what you called for? To go over what Tim and I talked about?” 

“What? No. I thought we could... Well, we have some other business that would be best kept between us. Establishing contact felt like the best next step on that front.” Again, there was a strangely long pause, but before Martin could think of anything to say, Jon continued. “And because the goodbyes were relatively abrupt this morning, I didn’t have the opportunity to apologize.”

Sighing, Martin rubbed his eyes. “Well, you didn’t say it for twenty-four hours, so I suppose you get half credit?”

Jon huffed. “I misread the situation and Elias. I hadn’t expected him to downright deny us an extension without discussion, and I certainly never pegged him as the type to have us pack up and leave with barely any notice. We were as shocked as you this morning.”

Not likely. “So, what now? How long do you think…”

“Honestly, I don’t know yet. I want to keep an eye on Elias after all of this strange business, but of course he’s not here.” Martin could feel the scowl on Jon’s face. “It may take some time for any of us to make a trip out there outside of work. I’m afraid you’ll be on your own for the next couple of weeks.”

“Oh.” Closing his eyes, Martin let himself fall back onto the bed. “Okay.”

Quickly, Jon said, “Not much longer than that, I hope. I tend to work on my days off which should cover the extra assignments more quickly, and Sasha or Tim may be able to make a trip out there sooner than I could.” At the end, Jon’s reassuring tone dropped into an irritated grumble. 

Martin smiled a little and fought back a yawn. “Worried they’ll fix things up before you get here?”

“That’s not- I wouldn’t say- I’m sure they’re capable of doing so, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to enjoy sitting on my hands while real work needs to be done,” Jon said, recovering from his indignant sputtering. “I’ve only looked at some of the new assignments, but most of them are guaranteed to be either misunderstandings or blatant lies.”

“You can’t know that just by skimming them.”

“You haven’t had to read some of these things,” Jon said with a tinge of disdain. “No, people love to waste my time and keep me both from my personal research and more pressing situations like your own.”

Martin looked up at his window. “Okay, but mine would probably sound fake on paper though, right? ‘Oh, the lighthouse I work at is tall and makes me dizzy, also I think an old classmate is trapped in the walls?’, or something like that. I wouldn’t believe it.”

“But it’s demonstrable,” Jon said. “And if you’d chosen to put more time and effort into it, you’d have put in the more compelling details. Not that we don’t get statements like that. Some read like a trite pitch for the script someone is workshopping rather than a true paranormal experience.”

“And that’s what’s keeping you busy now.”

“I’m sure you’re glad to hear that important things are happening while you wait. If by the time we return you’ve already been trapped in an impossible lighthouse prison, we’ll have plenty of entertaining material to refill your vocabulary.” A silent, awkward moment passed between them. “Right, okay, not funny.”

“Not really, no.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s… fine.” It really wasn’t, but Martin wasn’t in a state to argue anymore that day. “What kind of fake stuff is it, then? That’s so important you just had to be back?”

Jon groaned. “Don’t get me started. There’s one from a man who claimed to be seeing the same strange fellow at the park everyday, as if he doesn’t also visit that park everyday and by his own logic could be a supernatural creature himself.”

In a way that Martin felt must’ve been some breach of confidentiality, Jon proceeded to lay before him complaints of monsters (“Particularly loud raccoons”), doppelgangers (“Plenty of people look like other people”), and other phenomena that Jon found particularly ridiculous. They were so unconvincing that Martin had to wonder whether Jon was leaving out the spookier details. 

But that was fine, Martin found. Why would he want to hear about anything other than people in ordinary circumstances when his own were decidedly not? And if Jon was happy to talk Martin’s ear off about frivolous things, it worked out well enough for both of them. 

Like before, it didn’t take much to keep the man going. In the middle of a peculiar story of shifting room layouts, Martin asked, “Okay, but there could’ve been something weird about the building, right? Probably not, but-”

“Well, we gave her the benefit of the doubt and Sasha looked into it. It turned out the woman had confused her own flat with the one next to it and unwittingly trespassed through an unlocked door. She was happy enough to drop the whole thing in embarrassment.”

Pushing his glasses up, Martin pressed a hand over his eyes. “Oh God, I would’ve died on the spot.”

“Ultimately she was happy to not have wandered into an alternate universe. I believe Sasha also saw to it that the neighbors practiced proper lock safety without giving the whole thing away.” 

“Happy ending, then.”

“For now. Can’t say it won’t happen again, but it won’t be our problem.” From the other end, Martin heard a muffled voice.  “Sorry, hold on.” 

“Sure.” The call was put on hold, and Martin checked his screen.

Oh god, they’d been on the call for over an hour. When had that happened? Had he been loud enough for his mother to hear him this whole time? What had he even said for that long? He must’ve been saying something. 

Jon’s voice came through again. “Sorry, I’m staying late tonight to get a head start on things. It seems Elias is back, so I’m going to have to let you go. Thank you for your understanding earlier.”

Internally, Martin let out a thankful sigh. “It’s no problem, really. Thanks for checking in.”

“And about the other issue. If there are any questions-”

“It’s fine. We’re all fine here.”

Jon cleared his throat again. “Good. Good night, Martin.”

“Night.”

The call ended, and Martin found himself in the weird place of adding a new contact and staring at the slightly longer list of names. 

Jon had asked for his number. 

For the purpose of talking about Martin’s mother, obviously, but that had only come up two times. The rest of the conversation had been primarily an outlet for Jon’s work frustrations. It hadn’t exactly been a professional call, had it?

No, no, no, that was enough and he was going to bed immediately.

#tma #the magnus archives #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au #breathe in the salt

[magioftheseas]

Faces, Dazes, Moon Phases

Summary: The day always starts with him waking up before Amane. The day always ends with Amane killing him.

Rating: T+

Warnings: Lotta murder, so lotta violence. It’s not fun.

Notes: So, I had a lot of thoughts about Sumire that turned into thoughts about Tsukasa because that’s the kind of person I am. And because I always come back to time loops, here’s a time loop angst fic where Tsukasa gets to relive the last day of his life. It’s not fun. yeah I still have undertale feelings what of it

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

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The morning always starts with him waking up first.

“Amane! Amane, Amane, Amane!”

Amane grumbling under his hands as he pushed at his twin over and over again. Amane swatting his hand away lightly, griping at him to, “Stop, Tsukasa. I’m up, I’m up.”

He’d plop down as Amane pushed himself up, yawning loudly with his mouth opened up all the way. Once Amane rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes, he’d give him a tired smile. It’s an okay smile. One that only stretches a little across the face. One that didn’t have anything lurking underneath besides morning grogginess.

Of the expressions that this Amane could make, he considered this smile middle of the road.

“Are you going to class today?” Amane asks next.

Tsukasa doesn’t answer. He just looks down, blinking at the ground. Sometimes, his vision blurs and darkens. Sometimes, it flashes red. At this point, he’s gotten used to it.

Because. It doesn’t matter.

What he chooses. What he does. What he thinks.

The morning always starts with him waking up first.

The day always ends with Amane killing him.

And then it repeats from the morning.

--

“Why are you doing this, Amane?”

A confused look.

“What do you mean, Tsukasa?”

...

“Do you hate me, Amane?”

Raising eyebrows. A flash of panic.

“Why would you ever think that, Tsukasa?”

..

“I’m tired, Amane.”

A worried smile.

“Does that mean you want to stay in today?”

.

“I’m so tired.”

A deeper frown. A gentle hand pressed against his forehead.

“What happened, Tsukasa? Tsukasa?”

--

He tried to keep count. Then he lost count. He tried again. And he lost again. Since it was getting frustrating in addition to pointless, he stopped.

The thing was—while the starts and ends were almost set in stone, the middle could be whatever he wanted. Sometimes, he’d do things entirely differently. Sometimes, he’d change up little things. He liked to see how things would change before snapping back, how much of this prison’s boundaries he could push.

One time, he convinced Amane to skip school with him. They’d run up and down the neighborhood, play around in the forest, and would overall have a really fun time. Then, they’d playfully wrestle and while he’s too busy laughing, Amane would bury the knife into his gut. And then, Amane, with tears running down his face, would stare down at him as he choked on his own blood.

He does remember Amane crying as he laid there dying.

It’s hard to remember anything about what actually happened anymore, but at least a few things stuck. He’s sure of that much, at least.

--

There are the more banal days. Ones where he just goes to school, sits there, and goes home with Amane. They hold hands on the way back. And Amane—Amane would give him looks.

“Are you feeling alright, Tsukasa?” he asks, squeezing his hand. “The teacher said you were quiet all day.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I was bored. It’s the same lesson. Every single day. I can’t even pretend to care.”

“I guess it is pretty boring,” Amane laughs. “Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow.”

Tsukasa looks at him.

On one of these days, he pushes Amane to the ground. Because Amane is holding his hand, he tumbles down too. Amane scolds him. If he chooses to aggravate things further, to hit, punch, and kick Amane—then the day ends early. Because Amane stabs him into submission.

Instead, he ducks his head, and Amane just sighs as he accepts the non-apology. Just brushes it off as Amane was prone to doing. Had been doing. For almost all their lives.

Amane even let him cling to him despite them still being mad at each other. That’s the kind of person Amane was, although maybe this world exaggerated it. He wasn’t sure?

The thing is—dying wasn’t really scary. Amane hating him wasn’t that bad either. But—the fact that he became less and less certain of the person his brother had been...

That was scary.

--

Sometimes, he pushes things because he wants to reaffirm aspects of Amane’s personality. Like how Amane would try to nudge him in a certain direction but ultimately give in if he whined enough. How Amane would still get carried away and laugh with him. How Amane worried and doted on him when he acted reckless. How Amane would smile at him. The many kinds of smiles Amane would wear for him.

But, sometimes, he’s not sure if it’s Amane or if it’s just a projection of Amane. If these traits were real, imagined, or exaggerated.

Amane was—patient, right? Sometimes quiet. Nice. More normal. More responsible. They had always been together. They know one another best.

Except, he thinks that maybe he’s been stuck with this Amane for longer than he’s been alive. He’s lost count of the days. Writing on anything, making notes or even carving into the wall all get wiped away once he dies and wakes up again. No matter what he does, it ends the same and starts the same.

He did ask Amane several times about this. If the days were repeating. If he remembered anything. Always, always, always, Amane would look utterly lost, eyes vacant of empty of recognition. Then he’d blink, and he’d dote on him, brushing back his hair and checking if he had a fever.

He did ask Amane why he killed him. His answer was always Amane killing him. The words would change. The means never would.

--

He does try to behave, he thinks. It takes a few—several attempts. Being the right amount of quiet is worrying. Being too attentive is worrying. There were times where he gets so frustrated he starts throwing things. His utensils, his books, his desk. The classmates would scatter, the teacher would scream. Amane would tackle him to the ground and kill him to stop it.

He gets it right exactly once, he thinks. He figures it out, enough that he’s desperate for praise and Amane does praise him, petting his hair and smiling down oh so sweetly—before apologizing.

“Why?”

Just like before, Amane buried that knife in his chest.

“Why, Amane, why? What am I doing wrong?”

It’s hard to speak through blood bubbling up his throat. Each desperate heave hurts and in that moment, he wishes that he didn’t exist.

“A—ma—ne...”

“I’m sorry.” Just like before, Amane cries over him as he lies there dying. “I’m sorry, Tsukasa, I’m sorry. Please...don’t forgive me.”

But why?

He does remember.

He remembers the face that Amane makes whenever he kills him.

--

There’s a sticker on his cheek that reads seal. It’s black with red lettering and it can’t come off. If he tries to scratch it off, it’s as if it’s part of his skin. No one else can see it, apparently. He’s tried to peel it off. With knives. With scissors. Amane would usually stop him. Usually by stabbing him. Always with the knife, never with the scissors.

He’s sure it has something to do with the prison, but he’s tried everything he can think of. Just like with his attempts to sway Amane from killing him, it all amounts to worthless.

Maybe, this is just punishment for being bad. Like being forced to carry full buckets or being locked in the closet. There are times where even a fit won’t change anything. He’s thrown many, many fits and they all end the same.

Amane killing him.

And Amane looking down at him.

--

There was exactly one time where he killed Amane first. At the very start of it, he snuck into the kitchen, took the knife, and struck before Amane could wake. He stabs Amane several times, and Amane flails and sobs. He chokes out his name several times.

He wonders if this was really what Amane sees—really how Amane feels...but he’s sure that it’s not. Because he doesn’t feel anything. Amane’s face is warped in eternal horror and misery. All that—and Amane didn’t even ask him to stop.

That’s not right.

Any living person, no matter how patient they were, would beg. Amane wouldn’t have just laid there and cried.

This isn’t real. It’s fake. It always has been. The only certainty... The only certainty...

That’s—

--

“Tsukasa?”

He’s lying down right now. He let Amane wake up on his own, so he just lays there on his back, limbs sprawled, just waiting for death. Amane looms over him, brow pinched in worry.

“Tsukasa, what’s wrong?” Amane presses a hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I wanna stay in,” he says. “I wanna sleep all day today.” He grabs Amane’s wrist and holds it still. “Stay with me.”

“Okay... Sure thing.” Amane nods uncertainly. “Do you want to talk, Tsukasa?”

He shook his head, pausing in the middle and mulling it over.

“Have you always been like this, Amane?”

“Like what?” Amane asks.

“Mm...” He wiggles his fingers as he tries to formulate the words. Frustrated, he kicks his feet. “I remember—you really liked collecting wish papers. At the festival. And. You’d talk and talk and talk about stars. I...”

I don’t remember any of it. Not a word. Because it’s been so long.

“Ah,” Amane exhales and laughs softly without any actual cheer that he’s sure Amane had once upon a time. Surely. Surely. “I get it. I’m sorry, Tsukasa. I didn’t mean to worry you so much. It’s okay, alright?”

Amane brushes his hair back, gentle and loving.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulls Amane down, burying his face into Amane’s shoulder. Amane holds him through the day, crooning sweet nothings about how they’ll always be together, how he’ll never go anywhere. Something about those words do feel familiar, but the weight of them is...heavy.

Heavy like they’re pulling him under.

Amane does pull away, saying he needs to go to the bathroom, get water, check the mail, whatever—he shakes his head over and over, pulling Amane back. Amane sighs. Once, twice, thrice.

And on the fourth time, Amane shoves him back, shoves him down, and kills him.

Amane, who was gentle, affectionate, and kind the entire day—wears an expression of twisted contempt. An expression that would crumble, that would lead into Amane bursting into tears as he apologized profusely and begged to not be forgiven.

But why wouldn’t I forgive you, Amane? Isn’t this who you are deep down? Isn’t it wonderful that you can be so free?

This is the only certainty—that these are your true feelings.

--

The most wonderful thing was when he realized the extent of Amane’s true feelings!

That the sticker was because he was a yorishiro, the most precious possession of the seventh of the seven wonders.

Admittedly, it took him time to understand, because he was sure Amane hated him but it turned out that Amane did love him, too. That hatred and that love—they existed side by side, like him and Amane. Hence why he was still there. Hence why Amane killed him. Over and over.

But, unfortunately, those precious feelings—the precious way Amane looked at him—they were just as trapped as he was. Wasn’t that just the worst?

If burying such things is what it means to maintain balance and harmony—who needed it? Right?

People should just be allowed to do whatever they want. Right?

Living the way Amane did in that fake way, and the way fake Amane did up until he’d morph into the real Amane—patient and kind and gentle and affectionate—it wasn’t any good at all. Because those weren’t his true feelings. Such things shackled his brother even now. That was unacceptable.

I want us to be free.

“Amane.”

Free to express ourselves from the deepest part within.

“Amane, Amane, Amane.”

It’s okay. It doesn’t matter what you want, good or bad. It doesn’t matter who you hurt. Even if you don’t want to be forgiven—how can I not?

“Amane, I love you!”

I’ll forgive anything and everything. Because I understand. I understand, I understand, I understand.

“I love Amane, I do, so, please—”

Let’s be free so that nothing will stand in our way anymore.

--

He doesn’t miss that world, but he does miss Amane’s expression. Which is in part why he’s so giddy now, because he’ll surely get to see it again soon. Amane’s true feelings will flow out once more and he’ll be free. They’ll both finally be free.

First, though, he has other things to do.

“For the next rumor,” he says, smearing black all over the wall. He makes the shape of two bodies, connected by a knife. “How about one involving the grim reaper?”

“That’s a little...” Natsuhiko trails off, brow pinching and lips pursing. He makes a face that’s not like Amane’s at all. “What do you think, my lady?”

“It’s overzealous,” Sakura says, cool as always. “But if you so wish...”

He can’t help but giggle at that. He writes out Amane’s name, sounding out the syllables as he does.

“Amane knows,” he sing-songs, scratching at his seal. It starts to tingle and then burn. “He’s going to have to kill me again soon. I can’t wait.”

That look on Amane’s face—his true feelings—

“Kid? Everything alright?”

For some reason, he’s shaking all over. With anticipation. With excitement. It’s burning.

“O-Oi, kid?”

“Natsuhiko, is he—?”

He’s fine. He’s just. Remembering. Remembering all the times Amane killed him. Over, over, over, over, over—

“Amane, he’s going to—again, again, again—!”

For some reason, he’s being steadied. It’s just that guy he doesn’t care about—the one that tries to be all big brotherly but isn’t like Amane at all. Amane would never be both openly annoyed and concerned. When he was sick, Amane was only ever...because Amane would...

A hand presses to his forehead.

“...tired...” he slurs out. “I’m...so tired...?”

“Yeah?” that person asks, and Amane would never frown at him like that. It’s too sincere. “Just rest then, kid.”

“Rest for now,” Sakura says, softly. Gently. Kindly. Patiently. Soon, she’ll be free, too.

Tsukasa let his eyes fall shut.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #tsukasa yugi #yugi tsukasa #Magi Fics #jshk spoilers

[mistkissedmoon]

Blankets made of Trust

“You have one night to decide”.​​ ​​Jason felt the words thrum through the air on loop before slamming into him, nearly knocking him over as he clenched his teeth until the words in his mind became an indecipherable ringing in his ears. ​​You’ve got to be kidding me. One Night to decide whether I want to become a zombie or an attack dog?! He thought furiously. He wrenched his head up and caught the warning stare of the Bat through the bulletproof glass - Who called him again, Jason thought scathingly - who raised an eyebrow. Careful, he seemed to be saying. Don’t talk, or I’ll take away all your options. Options? That was a fucking joke. There was no other option! The Lazarus pit’s madness had been growing more overwhelming by the hour, and if he went without some kind of spell he would become a mad serial killer. At the same time, what they were proposing was out of the question. Jason scoffed and turned to stare out between the thin bars of his cell. It was a damn miracle the idiots hadn’t been broken into already, most of their walls being made of glass, he thought sourly. It’s not like they leave a guard behind when they fight. ​​

​​“Red Hood. Did you hear that?”​​

Jason snapped his head back and levelled his most threatening glare at Nightwing. The idiot puffed his chest out and gazed at him like he thought he was actually intimidating.

 ​​“Yes.” He gritted his teeth and forced out the next words; “thank you.”

​​Batman - you poor excuse for a father mentor, Jason thought bitterly - motioned for everyone to exit his cell and they left without a backwards glance. That self-righteous Bat, the lapdog golden boy and the rest of his fantastic five crew including his replacement left- how humiliating low, to be replaced and then judged, in every sense of the word, by both my brothers him, while he stood in a cell that only had a toilet, sink and bed - with that absolute bitch of a magician. When everybody had left, the door of the enclosed witness area clicked shut, the scrape of a lock echoing soon after. Jason’s head fell back against the wall as he let his breath out explosively.

 “Anyway,” Zatanna had said, glancing meaningfully at Batman, “I can definitely block the Lazarus madness, but seeing as he is a criminal I think we should add a few rules to the spell.”

 Of course, their pet magician would insist on a few more rules being thrown in; Jason would lose the ability to kill, there was a ‘code phrase’ to make him do whatever they say (paranoid old bat and his lousy replacement) and Jason would hold the spell up with his own energy stores, making him tired easily. Lap dog or Rabid beast. Jason grimaced, closing his eyes to stop the burning sensation just behind them. Doomed if I do, doomed if I don’t, he thought grimly.​​ ​​A flash of purple light had his eyes snapping open in shock as a figure with an armload of objects materialised in the shadows of his room. Jason tried not to stare as the residual smoke revealed the objects to be a shiny diadem, an old - and well preserved, he noted approvingly - tome as well as a few bottles of what seemed to be softly glowing…somethings.

 ​​“Hey there, lucky little ravenclaw. You coming out? What's up your ass?” He inquired tiredly.​​The figure - Raven, he remembered- looks like a literal shadow, clad in a deep blue cloak that seemed to suck at the very light around her until she was little more than a barely discernible silhouette against the dark walls. All the same, the way she carried herself made him think of a sorceress or queen of old from the books he used to read. Heck, maybe even a goddess, like she’s saying ‘I have made a decision, and nothing you say or do will stop me’. Like she wasn’t thinking about how much care that book deserved or whether she should consider giving it away.​​“I’ve made a decision,” She answered in a low, musical voice. “And nothing you say or do will stop me.” ​​Well. That was serendipitous.​​ ​​“I’ve thought about what Batman wants Zatanna to do to you, and…” Raven hesitated. “I don’t think that this is right.”

 ​​Dully, Jason wondered if she would ever gain the courage to do more than just voice her disapproval with Batman’s methods. If any of these ‘heroes’ would. Probably not; there must have been a reason she worked here, after all.

​​“I’m willing to offer you an alternative solution; I can cast a spell on you instead.” ​​Her words were delivered with complete certainty, taking an subtle breath and squaring her shoulders afterward. ​​Pure unadulterated rage sprang to life within his veins. Jason’s face rearranged itself into a truly ugly, fearsome expression, his muscles tensing in preparation for a fight.

​​“So, what? You’re just going to put your own spell on me before she does?” Jason spat bitterly. 

​​“No. I’m going to -”​​

“I’m not going to be your slave, or anyone else’s, for that matter. You can tell Zatanna that, too.”

​​“I don’t want you to be my slave. I want you to pick and choose the words of the spell that will seal the Lazarus away, so I can, with your consent, cast that specific spell on you.”​​

Jason’s eyebrows decided to try defying gravity to fly into his hair. After a startled second, he barked out a laugh. He crowded the female titan against the wall and glared down at her, clenching his hands. To his annoyance, she seemed apathetic to the point of boredom.

 “Give me a break, sunshine. In what universe would the golden boy -”

​​“Don’t call him that.”

​​“The Bat’s loyal bitch-”

​​“Language.”

 ​​“-ever send you to free me without stipulations?”​​

“As far as I know, none. Which is why I am here of my own volition, without his knowledge.”​​

Raven swept passed him and laid her belongings on the bed. Jason’s eyebrows held an unanimous meeting and promptly decided to retry their earlier flight. “What?”

​​Raven paused her idle flipping of her book to spare a dry glance at him.​​ “Are you hard of hearing, Jay-son?” she carefully enunciated.​​  Jason scowled. 

”Forgive my surprise, oh smart one. I’m just surprised you of all people would go against his back. You aren’t ruled by your emotions, and you always do what your leader says -”​​  Raven twirled around to face him suddenly, something flickering in her eyes, gone before he could decipher it.

​​“I don’t do what Nightwing tells me to do. I do what I think is right.” she corrected, a hint of soft rebuke in her tone. She resumed her flipping of the books pages until she reached her goal and moved on to sort the eerily glowing crystal bottles.​​ 

“And helping a convicted criminal is part of your moral obligation, is it?” ​​ Jason slouched against the wall, raising his hands incredulously.

​​“Helping anyone and everyone who truly needs it is a part of my moral obligation.” Raven declared proudly without hesitation. Was this girl serious? One look at her face and Jason knew she clearly was.​​ “I understand you heroes think all killers were beyond redemption.” He commented with wry amusement.​​“You shouldn’t stereotype.” She said coolly, “Or tell your assumptions to a hero, who happens to be a demon.” Jason paused, mulling that revelation over. It was common knowledge among those who fought in the same circles as him that Raven’s magic was uncommon. Several unscrupulous magic users he talked to had fearfully claimed that her energy was ‘demonic’. Jason silently apologised for rolling his eyes or dismissing these accounts as fanciful or exaggerations and resolved to buy any of them drinks if he happened to see them again. “Besides, it’s usually unwise to be so presumptuous of a person you desperately need help from.”​​ ​​“What makes you say that?” He parried defensively, scratching his chin. “For all you know, I could have broken out and found another gullible magician to give me a few potions or something.”​​

 “But you won’t. You’ve already tried, and none of them were powerful enough.” She supplied bluntly. “I..” She looked away, almost shamefaced, “I felt it.” 

​​ She… what? Ah. Right. Empath, he suddenly recalled, wincing. He was good at concealing his facial expressions, but nothing could have masked the sheer desperation he felt when he showed up at their door. Merde. He must have looked like such a fool for trying to seem like he didn’t need her help.

​​  “I’m not trying to control you, Jason. The book is a dictionary; you can pick and choose the words you want me in the spell and I’ll perform it.” Her soft, persuasive tone urged him to believe her. ​​

“Why should I believe you?” Jason snarled, lashing out with a feeling of vicious satisfaction upon seeing her take a step back. “What if this is one of Nightwing’s tricks to rummage around my head gathering intel?”

​​”I will not enter your mind - that’s not necessary at all in this circumstance - and if I do, you can easily overpower me while I am in a trance.”​​

“What use would that be? Then we’d both be in here, and I can add resisting arrest to my list of crimes.”

​​Raven looked like she was having difficulty stopping herself from rolling her eyes. She waved her hand, magically unlocking the cell door.  “Are you always this paranoid?”​​

“No. Just when I’m in the headquarters of sworn enemies and about to be magically lobotomized within twenty-four hours - not to be rude, but at least a third of your colleagues have tried to send me to Arkham asylum.” Jason reminded her flatly, crossing his arms.​​

“Exactly! What do you have to lose!?”

​​“My life. Also, I’m doing fine. I could easily break out of here if I wanted too.” Raven looked pointedly at her spell book, exaggeratedly feigning patience. Jason’s lips twitched, satisfied. Annoying her was fun. 

“Although I appreciate your sense of derring-do, I really must insist I block the madness trying to make you go on a killing spree before you leave.”

​​“While telling Nightwing all the extra little details you’ll happen to hear while we talk, huh?” Jason’s eyes bored into her, suddenly agate-hard. It really isn’t fair, he thought suddenly, that Raven could so easily try to deceive me like this. Life wasn’t fair. Jason knew this, and didn’t understand why he felt like crying right now. It must have been the stress. Or the Lazarus pit. It certainly couldn’t be anything else, since he’d been lied to so many times before and he’d generally been unbothered. In fact, he had started expecting certain people to lie about being on his side and had taken to wearing a doubly reinforced Kevlar suit. It had saved him from knives in the back - literally - more than a few times. The bruises still hurt like a motherfucker, though. Raven slowly took out her communicator - and slid it towards him.

 “There. Now I can’t contact him in any way. Is that all?” He bent down and slowly picked it up. Jason thought about it for some time. He disliked any kind of spell on him, especially spells that would be permanent and affected his mind, however positive the effect might be. All the same though, it was necessary and Raven was giving him as much freedom that he could want. Something akin to grudging respect; or gratitude welled within him.​​

​​“Fine.” he complied gruffly, resisting the stupid urge to thank her. “I just have to pick out words in this book, right?”

 He strode over to the tiny cot and picked it up, carefully not taking his eyes off her nor touching the freaky looking vials. “What’s the language - oh, right, English is this half of the page. Okay, this should be easy enou- no. Stay where you are. I don’t want you to move while I’m reading this book.”​​ She threw him an exasperated look and disregarded his command, sitting beside him and leaning against the headboard. 

​​ “Of course, Jason. Would you like me to hold your hand?” she asked sardonically. “That should be reassuring enough, shouldn’t it?”

 ​​ Jason ignored that, trying to concentrate on being irritated with her instead of the thought of his hands, warming and covering her tiny ones. He cleared his throat and tapped several words in quick succession to distract himself. “Would those words work?”​​

​​Raven, he learned, had a incredibly wide vocabulary and impressive command of tone. She could add inflections that added entire volumes of meaning of her words. On the whole, though, he would have preferred a less exhaustive running commentary of the kind of gruesome implications his miswording could cause. In retrospect, he realized that he should have chosen to ‘block’ the madness, instead of ‘concentrating’ it in his head, but Raven took great pleasure in describing the resulting explosion that would cause. Raven went on to describe - very unnecessarily in his opinion, the other various failings that would stop his heart, give him wings on the sides of his heads and cause his face to erupt in highly painful tentacles in glowing terms with apparent relish, never mind that any one of them was good enough reason to reword the spell. Raven tended to overdramatise certain things, he noticed. Especially things that would result in giving him a terminal injury, which, ha, he was sure wouldn’t be permanent this time over, either, especially if the Lazarus was still in his system. He said as such to Raven, who promptly whacked him over the head with her book - ow, it was heavier than she made it look - and told him to “focus, you leather-skulled domnoddy.”

​​“You aren’t afraid of me? I’m apparently a very unhinged serial killer, after all.” Jason grumbled half-curiously, rubbing his complaining skull.

​​“I could ask the same of you. I’ve never met someone who was so calm upon learning about my heritage. I’m practically a descendant of lucifer.”

​​That- That was something he had not considered. “If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization.” Jason quoted, shrugging.

​​“Well said.” Raven said after a pause.​​

“I’m afraid I can’t take credit - a quote by Robert Green Ingersole. I’m more than willing to share his belief when it comes to you, though.”

​​“That’s kind of you. Although, I think you give the serpent too much credit. I like to think we would have eaten the apple eventually anyway.”

 ‘We’ he mouthed. Not ‘you’. Interesting. ​​“I can’t tell if your view is cynical or optimistic, little birdie.”

​​“Optimistic. I like the thought that we’re curious enough to try to better ourselves, no matter how flawless we may be.”

​​“Hypothetically, could it be said that the humans were truly flawless before they ate the apple?”

​​“No. If they were flawless, their faith would have made them invulnerable to tempting. Besides, their children became the first murderer and victim of the world; seeing as how humans learn from their parents, they couldn’t have been close to flawless.” Raven countered.

​​“Fair enough. If neither of us can accept that eating the apple was evil, and that faith isn’t our greatest strength, what is?”

​​“Perception. Just because one person sees it differently doesn’t mean either is wrong. It’s what makes us human and helps us advance - If Eden’s humans were perfect, it must have been a pretty bland place.” Raven smiled shyly, - cute - like what she just said had a special meaning for her. “And if you define perception as a type of knowledge, then it was gained by eating the apple.” ​​Jason stared at her, a little in awe. His debating skills had been blunted by his lack of intelligent company since Alfred, but he had enough wits to recognise a superior orator. “You’re delightfully witty, little bird.” He complimented. There was a lull in conversation while she focused on reading the spell. Idly, he wondered if she was avoiding his eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he’d made her flustered (of course, he would want to make any girl flustered, Jason thought, consciously not questioning if that was true). “Thank you. This wording ought to do it.” ​​ ​​Raven withdrew a rod from within her cloak, upon which closer inspection revealed a point easily as sharp as a dagger. Jason felt the blood rush from his face and stumbled away from her, falling off the cot and sending one of the vials flying, shattering on impact with the wall next to the cot. Raven jumped and refocused her eyes on Jason, befuddled. After a awkward pause, in which Jason remained frozen with consternation half on and half off the bed, acutely aware of the foul-smelling concoction dripping onto the cot, Raven coughed, folding her sleeve over her nose and gingerly edging away from the liquid. 

​​“Jason.” She scolded nasally, “I need to draw some symbols on your skin before I can cast the spell on you.”

​​“No way.” He refused flatly, surreptitiously putting the cot between them. “The last person to approach me with a piece of metal that big killed me and I’m not letting you inscribe stuff into my skin.”

​​“First on all, if you want to recover from that trauma, I know a couple of therapists who won’t care about your alter ego. I can accompany you if you really want help.” ​​She spoke haltingly, turning away to dip her instrument in one of the vials while a curtain of hair shielded her expression.​​Jason’s snapped to hers in astonishment. That was not the response he was expecting. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was most certainly not that. ​​“Secondly, I would never kill you, ever! If you can’t go with me, don’t you have someone else to accompany you to therapy?” Raven looked at him, fire sparking in her plum eyes. Jason sat back down on the cot and put his interlocked hands behind his head. ​​“You saw how Bruce looked at me, little birdie. I don’t trust my brothers one bit with this and the one person who might go with me is back at the old Batman HQ. I can’t exactly pop in and ask him to come to therapy with me; god, what would he think anyway?” Jason scoffed, too jaded for tears. ​​

“I believe you.” Raven admitted quietly. She sighed, her exhale sounding like branches rattling in the wind and Jason suddenly remembered Catherine, tired, Catherine, jaded, Catherine, with a sigh like branches rattling in the wind and a will like a dying ember. Jason frowned. That sound was far, far too tired to match one so courageous and lovely as her. If it was up to me, she’d never make that sound again. He thought firmly. 

​​“You don’t belong there anymore; I know what that’s like.” Raven looked even more tired then, not angry, just… sad. Her eyes looked old. Her lashes fluttered, as though just keeping them upright was causing her effort, and Jason had a strange impulse to wipe that look of her face. ​​“But.” Raven straightened, Jason mirroring her, and suddenly the formidable titan was back. “That doesn’t mean you have to cut off contact with that person. Dick’s told me about him - his name is Alfred, right? If what Dick has said about him was true, then you should write to him - he’s been worrying about you.” ​​Jason looked down, wishing he’d had the foresight to smuggle in a cigarette with him. 

​​“He wouldn’t welcome my letters, little bird.”

​​“Yes, he would! You’re so smart,” she protested. “How can someone as smart as you not see that!”​​

Jason felt the tips of his ears glow in an odd kind of embarrassed pride.​​“Alright. I’ll try.” He coughed, feeling foolish.​​ Raven looked oddly proud, her eyes more tender than Jason felt was appropriate.​

​“Try to write about something you love or admire. It’ll be easier that way,” she advised, placing her rod - which emanated an uncomfortable burning sensation - directly over his heart. Jason tried not to flinch unsuccessfully. “What is that?” 

​​“A toothpick of a giant.” Raven replied nonchalantly, focusing on her work.​​ Jason blinked. “How?” He was unable to articulate further than that, but Raven must have gleaned what he was asking through his gobsmacked expression. After quelling a fit of laughter with a snort, Raven explained, ”We were sucked into another dimensions on one of our missions. Nightwing, in his infinite wisdom, took one look at the sleeping 30ft giant and decided to punch it in the nose, and then got us both sucked in it’s left nostril when it snorted.” ​​Jason cackled wildly. Raven shook her head jokingly, smiling at him. “Honestly, if we hadn’t acquired such a valuable tool climbing out of it’s mouth -” Raven punctured her tale of woe with a horrified shudder, to Jason’s renewed cackles growing ever-louder. “I think I would have left him there when we managed to teleport back here.”​​

“So it was like a series of unfortunate events, huh?” Jason lilted flippantly. ​​Raven swatted at him mock irritably, but he could see the hint of a grin on her face before she composed herself. Why did she do that? Jason immediately began running through his repertoire of book references for something that might bring that beautiful smile back. Woah. Beautiful smile? He questioned himself, mentally shooing away from that thought. Bad thought. Go back to wherever you came from, because you certainly did not come from The Red Hood’s esteemed intellect. ​​Jason cleared his throat, his palms unreasonably sweaty for some reason and almost dropped the book he remembered he was still holding at the last minute. ​​“Aren’t you afraid of Nightwing catching you red handed?”

​​Raven’s eyes dropped to the whitewashed floor. “No,” she uttered softly. “He’s much too busy fighting with Starfire right now to worry about anything else”. Raven met his gaze with a pained smile, her eyes soft with sadness. Jason’s stomach twisted nauseatingly and he suddenly regretted his question. 

“Trouble in paradise?” he joked feebly, raising an eyebrow. He wanted to take back the words as soon as he said them. “Something like that.” Raven crossed her arms and blinked away any emotions that had been present in her gaze.​​ No, no, dammit! Look what you did, he snarled inwardly, you made her close up! 

​​ “Starfire’s people are traditionally polyamorous but Dick-Nightwing refuses to talk to her about any options or - well, anything outside of work, now.”

 ​​ Her words, although sudden, were unusually soft and tired compared to their earlier banter. Jason jolted up to look at Raven, who had apparently taken his silence for an inquiry.​​

“Uncommunicative as ever when it comes to love, those bats, I see. ah, lord, what fools these mortals be.” he blurted impulsively, wincing inwardly. Raven threw her head and her hood back - she has such lovely plump cherry lips!  - and laughed. Her laugh was deep, and husky, he noted absently, as it quieted to infectious chuckles, and quite possibly the warmest thing he had ever heard in his life. Somehow managing to be on the quiet side, yet filling the room with her vibrant presence until he felt like he could hardly breathe. “Nobody who loves is a complete fool, and if it indeed foolishness, then it is divine folly.” She teased playfully, the tiredness in her voice vanishing like mist on a hot day, the corners of her mouth still twitching. Jason let out the breath he had been holding, a chuckle of his own beginning to rumble in his throat as he leaned back on the small cot. ​

​​Jason reached for a flask among the glowing vials, to find Raven curling protectively over it, calling it her Assam; her favourite tea. He had to release a few more chuckles upon seeing her so passionate of her tea - she’d get along well with someone he knows. After that, however, the tension surrounding them eased into something easy and almost familiar, almost distracting him from the complicated patters Raven was twirling over his bare chest.

 “Do this often, little bird? Only artists like painters normally have this level of precision.” He commented.​​

“I don’t just do it for other spells.” She admitted reluctantly. “I make art of all kinds.” Jason tilted his head, curious. “I use paint to draw murals, I draw the stories I read about, and I draw the plants and animals I’ve seen from other, um, other-” She elaborated eagerly. Her eyes sparkled and she tossed her head, displaying a burst of passion Jason found himself unable to look away from. “Places?” He offered.​​

 “Planets.” She finished wryly. “And sometimes dimensions, too.” She frowned, studying him closely. “Hold still. I need to kiss this seal in order for the spell to activate.” ​​ Without waiting for his reply, Raven swooped down and planted a light, soft kiss on her glyphs, which began to glow with the same light her vials had. Jason started, lowering his hand from behind his back to touch the place she had kissed him - and whacked her soundly on the nose as she looked up.​​ “Ow!” Raven slid in his lap.

​ “Sorry! Sorry!” Jason yelped. “Are you okay, little birdie? Oh, god, I haven’t broken anything, have I? Deep breaths, Deep breaths. Should I call an ambulance - do you even have a doctor in this place?!” 

Jason’s arms fluttered uselessly around her as she pressed against the bridge of her nose gingerly.​​ 

“I’m good.” She winced. “I have healing powers.”​​

 Jason felt unbearably awkward. Would turning himself into the bat end the feeling of wanting to climb under the cot and never come out? Jason wasn’t sure, but he seriously considered it for a few, long silence filled minutes. Raven exhaled heavily, her breath touching his neck, and Jason suddenly became excruciatingly aware of their position. His heart kept banging against his chest like it was trying to reach her. Jason could have counted every single one of her eyelashes. Her brow creased. Oh, god. She could hear his heartbeats, couldn’t she? Geez, had they always been this loud? Ugh. Jason felt like he could die of embarrassment. Raven cleared her throat and gracefully stood up on the cot, moving around him to inspect the mess on the wall. Always so graceful. Jason stood up hurriedly and turned to face her back, rubbing his neck. 

“The spell is complete; the pit’s madness will never affect you again. If you want, you can leave; There isn’t anything very interesting to do now,” she murmured, almost apologetically, beginning to clean the stain away with magic.

​​“Why would I? As if you could ever be boring.” he said reproachfully.​​She blushed, which shot a thrill up his spine that manifested in what must have been a thoroughly dopey smile on his face. God. What was she doing to him? Jason wondered. Whatever it was, it made his chest feel confused and happy and tight and yearning at the same time, so he pushed the feeling down and forced himself to smirk.​​“What is that, by the way? You didn’t use it, did you? That looks nasty.” Jason cringed as another drop of the mystery liquid reached his bedding.

​​“No, I didn’t. You didn’t choose any of the words that required it. It’s human blood.” Raven explained absently, rolling his eyes, at his disgusted expression. 

“It was one of the men we were too late to save - he tried saving another man who had been framed who was imprisoned in his kingdom’s palace dungeons.”​​

“He was idealistic for trying to save someone in the government’s headquarters” Jason decreed firmly.​​ Raven gave him an amused look. Damn, she was way too perceptive for her own good.

​​“Or perhaps he was honourable to not condemn the prisoner to an unjust fate.” She lilted, almost playfully. Did she just flutter her eyelashes at me?

​​“You know what I‘m implying. If robin figures out you did this, he could kick you out, little bird. I’d be happy to host you as a selfless citizen, myself, though.” Jason brightened, not at all selflessly. 

​​“That’s a chance I’m willing to take. You should not have to suffer for his need to micromanage everything related to the Titans. Besides, he’s so emotionally stunted he’d never punish me in a way I can’t see him gloat over my misery.” Raven retorted pertly. ​​Jason tried to choke back a cackle, staring at her incredulously. He ended up making what he imagined to be the sound a dog toy made when it broke, which was why he tried to stop imagining and change the subject. Did she really just say that?​​ “And if he puts you in this cell?”

​​“I’ll tell him to stop sulking like a spoilt brat. He always looks like he needs to take a shit.”

 Jason struggled to control the tide of snickers pouring out of him. Okay, he decided, she wasn’t just witty, she was hilarious.

 ​​“He probably won’t try anything too painful, with you long gone and I being as valuable as I am - oh!” Raven slipped off the bed, into Jason’s instinctive embrace. Sudden, burning fury roared within him, the type that threatened to lash out if provoked.

 “And if he tries to hurt you like a spoilt child, I’ll cut off his cock and nail it to a sewer wall somewhere until he remembers his manners.” Jason growled fiercely. ​​ She stared at him from their close proximity, the laidback energy between them tightening and fraying with tension. Jason fidgeted, realising how protective that statement had sounded. What was she doing to him? 

“Since you’ve been so good to me, and all.” He added hastily.​​ 

“That’s gross, Jason.” She said, relaxing in his arms - too close, too fucking close, her back was curving against his arm - and he set her down carefully, supressing a shudder.​​ Jason’s eyes widened. 

“Here!” He thrust her communicator back at her. She glanced at it, surprised, as if she had forgotten about it too. When she reached to take it, Jason impulsively clasped her hands with his other fingers. 

“Would…” Jason licked his lips, steeling himself, noting how raven’s eyes traced where his tongue had been and drawing strength from it.

 “Would you like to come to dinner with me?” he waited, breathless.​​ 

“I’d like that…”

 She squeezed her eyes shut, and tensed her shoulders like she expected Jason to reprimand her or make her feel guilty.

 “What convinced you?” he asked, curiously. She looked up in surprise and blessed him with a gentle smile. Jason found it oddly adorable. 

“I hadn’t realized what a charmer you were.” she drawled.

 Jason blushed furiously and rubbed his neck, glancing at Raven, who seemed to be more amused by the second. 

“So, where should we meet? Your place? You don't exactly have a secret to keep, now.” She pointed out.​​ Jason guilty thought of the red x costume in his condo. 

“I do have a secret, actually.”​​

“I'm sure it must be simply dreadful.” Raven said placidly, reclining on the cot. ​​ Jason thought about the way she hadn’t hesitated to help him regardless of what her leader said. He thought about the look she’d given him when he had told her about not being able to go home. He thought about how she looked when he’d said he would write to Alfred. He swallowed and cradled her cheeks. If he was feeling particularly brave when remembering this later, he might have thought that she had nuzzled into the cradle of his hands. 

“It might be, honestly. I can’t tell how you’ll see it as. But if you come to my condo next week, I promise I’ll tell you everything.” he whispered hoarsely - apologetically - in her ear.

 “Everything?” Raven echoed. There was an unspoken question in her eyes, and Jason wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and rock away the doubt in her eyes until she felt secure again. He settled for wetting his lips. Later, he reminded himself. Later. “Yeah, Little Bird. Everything you want, okay?”​​ 

“Okay. Thank you. In our world, telling me your information means a lot.” She looked at him with growing respect and a touch of admiration in her eyes. “That must have taken a lot of courage.”​​Jason smiled at her. What a weird person. What a weird demon. She was simply wonderful, he decided. Absolutely wonderful. Jason stared into her amethyst shining with hope, and privately managed to gather enough thought to decide on writing to Alfred about her. He thinks that he’ll write that his lady (if it would not be presumptuous to call her that) is unapologetic when breaking rules, brutally honest, a real demon but that she paints for fun, is loyal to her ethics first and foremost, keeps her books in pristine condition, a true hero yet a gentle soul and would look terribly, terribly breathtaking if he can convince her to wear a flower crown and get her eyes to sparkle like they were again. ​​

​​Ripping his eyes away from her reluctantly, he backed out of the door and looked back - to see a flash of purple smoke. Of course! He felt like hitting his temple with the palm of his hand. She has magic; she could have left or alerted Nightwing at any time without his knowledge! For some odd, indecipherable reason, this revelation caused him to break out in bouts of uncontrollable snickers as he jumped out the closest window. ​​ ​​He decided to add Assam tea to his shopping list.  ​​

 ​​Epilogue.​​

“Little Bird.” Raven spared a questioning glance at her - their - bed’s other occupant, who winked at her and waved lazily. Raven pursed her lips and aimed her gaze back at the novel in her hands, stifling a yawn. “It’s time to sleep.”​​

“One more chapter.”​​

“Mon petit oiseau, you know I adore a good book as much as you do. But I adore our bedtime ritual even more, love. Haven’t you finished that tea yet anyway?”

​​“Almost.” She turned a page and cradled her mug with both hands, draining it.​​“Awesome.” Jason stole a languid kiss to distract her as he plucked her book out of her hands and set it down on his bedside table. 

“Mmm- Jason!” Raven protested weakly. He grinned at her and palmed her hips slowly. “What is it, darling? You know neither of us can sleep properly unless you do your ritual.” It had started about a year into their relationship, after a particularly bad nightmare. ​​She set down her cup down with a mellifluous rap and squirmed to straddle his lap. Jason quickly draped a blanket around her shoulders and held her in a warm embrace. He'd quickly learned that she would get cold very easily and took full advantage of this fact to shamelessly encourage her to press every inch of herself against him whenever she was cold. Privately, Jason thanked whoever was up there that she hadn't caught him turning their 'broken' heater off yet. Raven exhaled as her fingers slowly caressed his face. Starting with his jawline, pressing kisses to his temple, lingering below his ears - he had to focus on not keening when she suckled beneath his earlobe -then combing his explosion of hair back, her dainty fingers travelling lower to his temples. 

Three years onward and she still did this ritual every night, he thought fondly. “You have wrinkles”. she breathed abruptly. Wrinkles? On his gorgeous face? Jason thought. Oh, hell no. They were not wrinkles. They were the bags beneath his eyes. A few good nights sleep with his Raven and it’d clear right up. If not, the wrinkles had better pray for nothing more than skin lotion.​​ 

“Where?” Jason demanded indignantly. ​​Raven touched the corners of this eyes gently, her eyes glowing tenderly.

​​“Did you know”, she began conversationally, “that there is one smile that cannot be replicated unless you are happy? It’s the only smile that includes the eyes - that’s where the saying ‘smiling eyes’ comes from.”

 ​​Jason sat back, wondering where the hell she was going with this, but happy to let her talk for as long as she wanted. 

“If you smile that smile enough, well” she shrugged, tapping his wrinkles. “You must have been smiling a lot for some reason.”

 ​​“I wonder why,” Jason quipped, looking at her dimpling mouth hintingly. Raven let another of her low chuckles escape, curving her mouth invitingly - success! Jason rejoiced, part delightedly, part triumphantly -  and leaned forward and brushed her lips against his - alright, fine - wrinkles then teasingly nibbling his lips before withdrawing, smirking impishly and batting her eyelashes coyly. Jason growled as she licked her lips deliberately. “I’m glad you’ve been smiling more,” she whispered earnestly, the look in her eyes taking Jason's breath away. He softened and swooped to capture her lips in a kiss that made her head spin and forced a swoon out of her mouth. ​​

​​Jason wondered how she’d react to the information of her own acquired stunning wrinkles. Better not tell her, he decided lovingly, before Raven purred his name in his ear and he lost all coherent thought.​​

________________________________________________________________ ​​“A series of unfortunate Events” - references a series of rather unpleasant, old children’s books.​​“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” - A midsummer’s night dream (Puck)​​“Nobody who loves is a complete fool. And if it is, then it is divine foolishness.” The squire, his knight, and his lady by Gerald Morris (Ganscotter and King Arthur)​​If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization. - Robert Green Ingersole.​​ ​​________________________________________________________________ ​uhghhhhhhhh this was an absolute monster, @theplacewherebeautylies. “Let’s start writing! It’ll be easy! I can quit at any time” AND I CHOOSE TO MAKE A FREAKING 6341 word fic. IT’S 2AM. This is my first fic and I can already relate so much to those sleepless writer’s post. I hope you enjoy and thank you to @bluescove for beta-ing, I think it really helped!

#raex #redrae #raehood #6K #oneshot #jayrae #ow. ow. ow. #my writing #fanfic #lunar crow #so glad it's over #soft #how long will it take you to read? about as long as I took to write it I assume #teen titans #teen titans fanfiction #xrae #so many red underlines saying I misspelled something #I didn't #but still #very annoying #lots of quotes bc I am a bookworm @ heart #I gave up looking at a rainstorm to finish writing this #THAT'S HOW INVESTED I WAS IN FINISHING THIS STORY #6341 words #Gonna go stuff my face as a reward woo! #bluescove #theplacewherebeautylies

[n0iseyniya]

Baby Doll {2/?}

Warnings: A Dark-Fictional Piece, Contains Eventual Non-Con Elements. (18+)  

Characters: (Dark!) Steve Rogers, Reader, OC! Nya. (For Chapter)

Summary: (For this Chapter) Steve starts to show his possessive side.  

Synopsis: Steve begins an unhealthy obsession over the reader, which then sprouts into complete and utter chaos.  

Note: Hi guys! It’s Niya here, back at it again with another update. This took so long to post because I wanted to jump the gun in a sense, and have Steve kidnap the reader, but then I thought about it and that’s just not how I want this story to go. I actually want it to be a slow burn. But not overly slow. I’ve been thinking about 20-30 chapters. And I want y’all to really enjoy it. Also, if y’all haven’t noticed, *ahem* that OC... is me, I thought it would be cute if me and the reader could interact a little. And I’m such a hoe for Bucky, so it was a no brainer. Anyway, this is the most y’all will ever see of Nya in this chapter, so I won’t be drowning you guys with ‘her’. But I do want it to be noted that the reader is established and does have friend(s). Now that we are done with all of that, enjoy you guys.  <3 (Also, if you want to put a face to ‘Nya’ , I have my face as my profile picture.)

Tags: @bookgirlunicorn @ironlady1993 @notyourtypicalrose @readermia

(tags are open 😊)

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

Three weeks.  

Three weeks of consistently seeing you.  

It became a routine.  

Every Sunday and Saturday morning at approximately 6:30 am, Steve Rogers made his way to the family owned library to see his favorite little book worm. His day always being made when he laid eyes on you. His smile lifting, his eyes twinkling and his heart speeding up a beat. It was amazing the effect that you had on him.

All his worries that creeped up on him in the middle of the night vanished at the mere sight of you.

You never did cease to ease his pain.  

Smiling at himself as he walked down the sparse sidewalk, he rounded the corner of Bleeker Street, pausing once he seen the first glimpse of you. You were laughing, head thrown back, eyes crinkled shut and hands clutching your chest dramatically.  

You looked stunning. Carefree and gorgeous.

And if it hadn’t been for the women standing next to you, Steve would’ve been able to properly appreciate the sight in front of him. But he couldn’t, not when she was grasping your arm tightly as she laughed. Her head leaned over in happiness, and her body hunched over as she tried to catch her breath.  

Steve tensed as he looked inside the window. Several questions playing a loop in his mind,

Who was this woman? Why was she touching you? Was she your girlfriend? Did you like girls? Oh my God, what if you weren’t into guys?  

A thousand questions clouded his judgment and he found himself tensing at the mere thought of losing you before he even had you.  

Steve snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the door’s bell jingle, signaling that someone had left. He smirked when he seen that it was the woman that previously occupied your time. Briskly sliding past, he made his way into the bookstore. Making eye contact for a few seconds, he took a mental note of her face.

Brown skin, round lips, a full nose, slanted dark brown eyes and dreads.

He’d get her information, if it was the last thing he did for the day.

Smiling as he walked through the door, he took in his surroundings as if it was the first time coming here all over again.  

Walking smoothly over to the front desk, he beamed as he sees you, eyes glimmering when he makes eye contact.

His pride swelling when he seen your smile widen in recognition but frowning when he seen it drop.  He tilted his head in confusion, shoulders slouching when your smile didn’t go back into place.  

“You’re late.” You spoke softly, smiling.

Steve visibly relaxed, chuckling softly. You had been waiting for him.  

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”  

You shrug unbothered. “The good news is, Nya kept me company. So, you should be thanking her for my current attitude.” Steve straightened up at this, this was it. This was the moment he could get his answer.  

He tilted his head in mock confusion. “Who?” You roll her eyes playfully and pointed to the door. “The girl that you just brushed past, like two seconds ago silly.”

Steve look dumbfounded for a second or so, before finally making an exaggerated realization. “Oh! So, that’s Nya?” Sell it Steve, don’t overdo it. “...is she single by chance?” Damn it Steve, too much.

Your eyes widen in shock, and you find yourself chuckling nervously.  

“Um... yes, why Steve?” You ask quietly. Almost as if you fear his response.  

Sputtering a response, Steve racks his brain for any possible answer. Bring up Tony! But for what? Nothing! Maybe bring up Sam, he could save him. Natasha? Wanda? Maybe mention Brock? His mouth casts a decision before his brain can. “Uh... well my friend... Bucky! Yeah! Bucky, is looking for a new partner for his... morning runs.” Yep...that sounds right. “And your friend...Nya? I believe, would make a great running partner for him...I think.” Way to go Steve, now Bucky’s going to kill you and Y/N’s going to want nothing to do with you freak. Way to start rambling about nothing and everything, she’s going to really think you’re crazy now.  

Steve is interrupted by your giggle. And if he didn’t know any better, he would say it sounded like a sound of relief. You shake your head softly, a few hairs escaping the loosely done bun. “Well, Steven, if you must know, I don’t think my friend will just want to run with a random guy; no matter how famous he may be. However, if you really insist, I’ll let her know.”  

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Grinning from ear to ear, he can’t help but to make a teasing remark. “Is that a sound of relief I hear?”  

You pause for a second, nervous that maybe you reacted impulsively. But you breathe in and relax. Shaking your head, you steady yourself and reply, “Quite the contrary Steven, I was merely preparing myself to give you a rejection. You see, my good friend doesn’t care for blondes.”

Friend.  

It’s the one word that bounces around in his head. The one word that makes sense. He doesn’t even harden when he hears the slight attitude in your tone, something he would’ve been quick to correct.

She was just a friend. Only a friend.  

At this realization, Steve switches on the charm, ready to lay claim on what he almost lost.  

He breathes in and smoothly leans his upper body on the desk, gracing you with his sparkling smile. “So, Y/N, I’ve been thinking, maybe, that me and yo- “ He’s interrupted by your gasp, and you running around the desk, hurridly sliding past him and to the door.  

Steve had been so focused on getting you on a date, that he had completely ignored the bell and the sound of someone making their way into the shop.  

He raised his eyebrow in confusion, slowly accessing the scene in front of him. You, gushing over the delivery man, who was currently holding a large tote filled with books. Steve grunted non committingly, feeling himself tense all over again.  

Finally taking a look back at Steve, your eyes sparkle and you can’t help but to let out a nervous giggle. Taking in a quick breath, you happily rush out a stream of incoherent words that not even the super soldier can understand.  

Steve finds the will to relax, and smiles before asking you to repeat yourself.  

“These are THE new Jane Fonda books; do you know how hard it is to get these books?! Thank goodness I managed to get them. Don’t they look pretty Steve- I can’t believ-”

Tuning you out, Steve takes a moment to really look at the delivery man before him. He can’t help but to notice the way the delivery man eyes roam you unashamed. He can’t help but to notice the way the man inhales deeply, the way the man gulps audibly. He can’t help but to notice the way that you seem so oblivious to this blatant ogling.  

It stokes something deep within his core, and he has to forcibly take his eyes away from the man and give you a strained smile in response. Clenching his fist to his sides, he takes this as comfirmation.  

An oblivious woman is a dead one.  

----

A/N: Passive aggressive Steve is everything. (1,873 words). Anyway, I hope yall get that Steve is holding back. We’ll see what’s good next chapter. See y’all then. :)

#baby doll #series #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #au #captain america #dark steve x reader #mcu #marvel #dark fic #dark!fic #dark!verse #dark!au

[iamtotallycool]

EOA Ship Appreciation Week Day 6: Date Night

Sorry that this one and my day 7 might be a day late! Work is seriously interfering right now!

However, I was glad to get out my last Carzel fic for this week! Thanks to everyone who’s starting to love this couple as much as I am!

Enjoy!

It was safe to say that Carla Delgado had never been on a proper date before.

Honestly, how could she with the way her life had been up until this point?

However, she knew how to flirt and dance and even kiss. With those skills, this evening should be a piece of cake.

So why was she so nervous then?

Carla was sitting on the edge of the fountain in the heart of Nueva Vista. She fiddled nervously with her lucky purple necklace as she looked up at the City clock. Marzel would be here any moment to meet at their agreed time.

A few people kept looking over at her when they walked by. Carla pretended not to notice them as she pushed back a styled curl from the high ponytail that her hair had been slicked back into.

After rehearsals had ended at the Seahorse Theater, the haughty play director, Felipe, had taken an unusual interest in what her evening plans were. There had been something so condescending in his tone, that Carla couldn’t stop herself as she retorted back that she had a hot date tonight. Luckily, she had stopped herself from saying who.

What had been aggravating is that Felipe’s expression didn’t even change as he then asked her, “And what exactly are you planning on wearing? Do you even own anything decent?”

If she didn’t need this job, Carla would have thrown her script at him.

Marzel hadn’t said anything about where they were going or what they were doing.

After he had surprised her by meeting her after her lesson with Sabine and saw that she made it safety back to the shore, he grabbed her hand and just casually asked, “Will you go somewhere with me on Saturday? Just the two of us?”

Carla had been taken aback. They had spent time together, usually with at least one other person, and that person, or Sirena, being Marisa. She did think he was attractive though and it was fun to flirt with him, and she hadn’t done anything fun in so long. So why not?

Still, Carla didn’t have anything in the way of formal attire. She had left Avalor with a few clothes that were mostly hammy downs from Rafa De Alva. And since she had started earning money, she had bought the occasional small item here and there, but most of her paychecks went to her rent and necessities.

“I suppose I can be of some assistance,” Felipe sighed out.

Before Carla could ask why he was being so uncharacteristically nice, he barely talked to anyone who wasn't the main actors, she was yanked to the side by one of the make-up artists and shoved into her usual chair. Felipe had even loaned her a dress for her to wear. A pink, strapless dress with a soft tulle skirt that was short in the front, but flowed long and elegant in the back.

“Remember, it’s only for tonight,” Felipe said sharply before she shoved her out the door rather quickly. “So I expect it back tomorrow in perfect condition.”

 Carla had felt a little abused and a little silly being so overdressed as she walked down the city streets. What she was most nervous though at this very moment, was how Marzel would dress. Last time Marisa and Marzel had decided to hang out on land during a local festival, they showed up in the most appalling display of patterns, fabrics, beads, and feathers. Carla had to pull them down the nearest alleyway and do her best with fixing those ridiculous outfits.

The Noble fashion here in Nueva Vista wasn’t any help either. Cristóbal may have been conniving and evil, but he also had the worse fashion sense. I mean, a giant pink bow? Really?

Carla’s eyes then flickered over to the nearest canal. It would probably be better if he even just showed up in his usual Sirena Attire. Even if that meant they would be horribly mismatched.

“Hey, Carla!”

Carla felt her heart begin to rise at the sound of his voice coming from the opposite direction.

She took a deep breathe before she turned to see him…dressed normally?

Marzel was wearing tan breeches, tall black boots, and a brown vest decorated with intricate gold designs over a green puffy sleeved shirt.

In fact, he looked better than normal, he actually looked really handsome and dashing, and all those other adjectives her scripts described the main hero as.

Marzel’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m not late, am I?”

Carla realized that her mouth was hanging open like an idiot and quickly shut it.

“No, you’re right on time,” Carla said as she stood up and smoothed out her dress’s skirt.

“You look beautiful,” Marzel said sincerely with a lop-sided grin.

Carla gave him a half lidded look in return. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

The Sirena Prince offered her his arm, which she gladly took and let him lead the way. They ended up at a set of stairs that lead down to a basement apartment. A wooden sign hung right about it that said “The Grotto” with an arrow pointing downward. Carla raised an eyebrow at him, but Marzel only responded with a wink as they walked down the stairs and opened to large oak the door that was located at the end.

Blue light and collective sound poured out as they entered this secret room.

Carla took a sharp intake of breath as she realized this was an underground restaurant, and one that was underwater themed to boot. The walls were made out of some kind of shimmery stone that were extenuated by the blue, green, and white globe shaped glass lights the hung above them along with deep green streamers that emulated seaweed. There were also large tanks of tropical fish strategically located throughout.

“Can I help you?” The quite snooty looking host asked.

“There should be reservations for two under Marzel.”

“Ah yes, our associate let us know that you were coming.” He grabbed a couple of menus, “If you will please follow me.”

Carla was starting to get a little annoyed by just how suspicious this all was, and how she felt she was the only one not in the loop. Then a waiter walked by with a tray of delicious smelling food, and she decided that she would let it go. At least until after dinner.

They were seated in one of the far and intimate corners of the restaurant by a large tank of starfish.

“I’ll be honest, I might need your help figuring all this stuff out,” Marzel said sheepishly as he flipped through the many pages of the menu.

Carla had learned that Sirenas could only consume seaweed and kelp. However, being half-human allowed for Marzel and Marisa to consume a little bit of land food when they had their legs.

So, after much deliberation, they decided to try and share the pesto veggie pasta and coconut black bean soup.

Being in this incredible restaurant though, Carla felt a little awkward as the fully gravity of the situation started to really set in. She decided to resort to the things she knew in order to not avoid even a second of awkwardness throughout the dinner: keeping a constant smile, tilting her head just so, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

However, Marzel had to throw her off by telling her that the starfish in the tank were telling him about that snooty host apparently sung opera very badly and very loudly when he was by himself after hours, causing her to almost snort her tea up her nose, which he profusely laughed at her for.

She got her revenge later when they ordered dessert that came with some

“Awww, look at these,” Carla said as she picked up one of the chocolates. “Wonder if this looks like the jellyfish you were dared to kiss when you were 10. Which then stung your tongue and you couldn’t talk right for a week.”

Marzel turned a bright shade of red. “Marisa?”

Carla shook her head. “Cuco.”

“There is no loyalty these days, I tell you what.” Marzel groaned as he spooned another mouthful of the ice cream.

As they left the restaurant later, Carla was thoroughly surprised by how much she was enjoying this date so far. She had never spent time like this with someone that had been a friend first, which she never had a lot to begin with, and was now a…she wasn’t quite sure yet. But, she was willing to find out what as they continued to walk down the boardwalk.

They then came across a rambunctious tavern, whose party seemed to have spilled out of the building on onto the boardwalk as fast music was playing and just as fast dancing was occurring.

Carla smiled as her foot began to tap along to the jig. She loved music so much, it had brought her so much joy in the darkest times to be able to dance with her father.

How the two had easily decide to side with a witch that would’ve taken that away she’ll never understand.

Carla hadn’t even noticed that she had started to move towards the crowd until she was abruptly stopped in her tracks.

“I don’t think so,” Marzel said, staying firmly rooted to his spot.

“What? Why?”

“You remember what happened at that festival right?” Marzel looked away in shame. “And I’m still that horrible.”

The Sirena wasn’t exaggerating. While Marisa had spent so many secret hours on land and with her legs that her and Carla twirled and danced gracefully next to each other. Marzel on the other hand, had been a total disaster. Between trying to horribly copy every one’s movements around them and how unsteady he was on his legs, he kept knocking into people and it required both girls to save him and his pride.

Carla had at least a thousand lines in her back pocket for a situation like this. She could easily use the one she had used on Mateo during the Sunflower Festival. But she didn’t want to use any of them, not on him.

“Well I want to dance,” She said flatly. “So you’re just going to have to trust me, your highness.”

Her response threw Marzel just enough that she easily able to drag him to the farthest corner of the impromptu dancing area.

Carla grabbed both of his hands and placed them on her hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, thankful for how much height her heels gave her. She sometimes enjoyed how level they were when he had his tail or when they were floating in the water. Marzel was stupidly tall when he towered over her on his legs. However, there was a benefit to his height as she fit perfectly against his chest.

She met his eyes to make sure he would follow her lead. They began to move their feet in small steps and slowly began to rotate in a circle. They weren’t exactly in sync with the music, but they were able to keep it light and fun, which was increased with the mimicking swing of their hips.

Marzel chuckled. “Is this really dancing?”

“Of course it is,” Carla said. “This one in particular is just called…swaying.”

Marzel’s hands slid from her hips until he clasped them together on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. “I think I like this one a lot.”

While she didn’t saying anything out loud, she was starting to have a new appreciation for this dance as well. Between the warmth of his body and how secure she felt in his arms, there was an alarmingly growing desire to rest her head on his chest.

“I have a confession to make.” He then said abruptly.

Carla sighed, the spell now slightly broken. “Most guys do.”

“I may have had some help with planning this date.”

“From who?” Carla asked, trying to run down the list of their acquaintances. 

“Felipe.”

“He did?” She was absolutely dumbfounded.

Marzel nodded. “Well, he didn’t want to, but after I offered a small bag of pearls, he was more than willing to help.”

“Now that sounds like him.”

Carla felt a little foolish now, this romantic scene was something exactly with the director’s taste. The young couple, dressed in amazing costumes, at only the most visually romantic settings. His work was always incredibly cheesy, but audiences here ate those fantasies up. And at the very least, Carla could say that she got to live one of them.

She was half tempted to turn around and she is she could find him, and maybe his assistant Astrid, in some long coats and ridiculous fake mustaches. Watching them just to make sure Marzel wouldn’t be coming back for a refund.

“Didn’t want to get advice from your human expert this time?” Carla said, referring to Marzel’s other half.

“I think there’s a difference between being an expert and just being an enthusiast.”

Carla laughed and nodded in wholehearted agreement with him.

“So,” Marzel said in a low voice as he brought his face closer to hers. “How did I do?”

Carla bit her lip. “Well, I’m afraid I have to confess something to you now.”

Marzel cocked his head to the side slightly.

“I’ve done all this stuff before,” Carla said, waving her arm in a large sweeping motion. “I even had some young lord buy me a diamond after only knowing me for an hour.”

Her father and her had pawned off the necklace later that day. Carla at the time had hated how she had to give away something so beautiful, especially with the way it sparkled against her neck, but she had done her job and the money helped them survive the winter.

“However, I didn’t feel anything with any of them.” Carla continued on, noticing the slightly crestfallen look that was starting to form on Marzel’s face. “So, I’m starting to realize that it doesn’t matter what we do on the date, it just comes down to who I’m with.”

She swallowed as she dared to move on of her hands so that her finger tips lightly gazed the small strip of bare skin around his neck.

“And I’m starting to like my choices.”

Marzel closed his eyes briefly, reviling in her touch.

“Well, now that I know better,” He began, his arms tightening around her. “What would you want to do?”

Carla shrugged. “I guess you’ll just to wait till next time when I get to pick.”

“Next time? I really like the sound of that.”  His face was so close now that his breath was tickling her cheek.

“So, tell me, your highness.” Marzel rolled his eyes at her excessively sarcastic use of that title. “How does this scene end?”

“Felipe thinks I should just leave with a kiss to the back of your hand. Always best to leave a tantalizing cliffhanger.” Carla shook her head slightly, leave it to a director to not know when to quit. “But I’m certainly open to changes, if the leading lady agrees with me.”

Carla just smiled coyly as she began tipping her head back so she could fully get a good look at him. His great smile, cutely pointed ears, and the way his amazing eyes were holding such genuine adoration. She wanted him. There was no doubt about it.

“Yes.” Was all she said.

Marzel wasted no time as he dipped down and placed his lips softly against hers. Carla tightened her grip on him as her other hand up into his hair. It was nothing like the descriptions she had read earlier this week in the surprising amount of Sirena themed romance books that were written and sold here. His lips had a slight salty taste to them, not fishy. He wasn’t trying to squeeze the life out of her with his inhuman strength but was actually very gentle as one of his hands came up to cup her face. And Carla didn’t feel some deep conflict and guilt over this kiss, she was loving every second of it.

People were no doubt staring at them for the umpteenth time that night, this crowd making it more obvious thanks to the vast supply of alcohol. They were not use to seeing a Sirena walk around, and definitely having never actually seen an open human and Sirena romance before. And Carla finally had enough of it, especially as she was now really enjoying herself now.

Forget waiting for a ‘next time.’

“Come on,” Carla said, gripping his hand and leading to the nearest set of stairs that led to the beach.

“Where are we going?”

“You said there were some secret caves near my cottage, right?” Some probably very dark and very private caves. “I want you to show them to me right now.”

She a twinge of remorse as she could feel that she was practically dragging Marzel down the rickety steps, his legs probably already tired from how long he had been on them. She would make it up later to him very soon though.

“Won’t Felipe get mad if we get these costumes all sandy?”

Evidently, it sounded, Marzel had received the same warning, no doubt after being practically shoved out the door as well. So, feeling this spike of annoyance and protective nature for Marzel, Carla decided she didn’t mind being a little bad right now, even though there would be hell to pay later.

“I like to think of it more as us going off script and improvising.” Carla shot him a cheeky look over her shoulder. “Which, as you just experienced, I happen to be an expert at.”

#carla delgado #marzel #prince marzel #Elena of Avalor #carzel #carlaxmarzel #Disney #disney jr #ship appreciation week

[nice-neck-by-the-way]

All of the Ghouls Come out to Play

Author’s note: so this is just a rant i wrote, i needed to vent and i guess this was the easiest way to do it

I just did it through Anne, although i know it’s not very in character, that was not really my point for this, so i apologize

Also i didn’t check any spelling errors, or coherence, i just wrote it in notes on my phone and posted it, so i apologize for that aswell

Ps: I’m sorry it doesn’t have a ‘keep reading’ but I’m on my phone, so I’ll fix that when I turn on my computer

TW; Anxiety

“Too fast for freedom,

Sometimes it all falls down,

These chains never leave me, I keep dragging them around”

It had been a good day, considering everything, i mean it looked like a good day to a normal person i guess, she had gone out with the girls, which normally made her happy, but there was something about interacting with other people that made her uncomfortable

I mean it was really no surprise, she had always had trouble when it came to social interactions, it became a bigger problem as she became older, making new friends became impossible, it was like every person in the room scared her, it was stupid, she knew that, but it seemed like her body didn’t, her heart always seemed to beat faster every time someone talked to her or even just sit next to her, and she really thinks that it’s a miracle that she still hasn’t thrown up in front of someone

It started like normal shyness, but now she couldn’t even say ‘hello’ to someone because she was overthinking too much, what if they judge her for the way she says hello, what if the other person wants to carry on with the conversation and she didn’t have an answer, her brain just got overwhelmed by thoughts

She always felt like those were small insignificant problems, but for her, it tormented her since the day she can remember

It felt like that saying people say about creating a storm in a glass of water, but she just couldn’t help it, and believe me when i say she really didn’t want to be this way

Today it was no different, when out with the girls they ran into a lot of people, to Anne’s dismay, she wanted to leave or avoid it, but Cathy didn’t let her, saying it was rude not to say hello to the people they knew, and Anne agreed, people thinking that she was rude because of her inability to talk with others was also one of her fears, which just put her on a loop

Later they were invited to dinner at Bessies house, she really wanted to say no, but she had been skipping so many gatherings that she was scared that the other girls would start to hate her, it was not her fault, but she didn’t want to tell them how her brain panicked every time she had to be in a room so full of people

So she went, and although it was uncomfortable the whole time, it was actually bearable and she managed to live through it, and everything was great right until the point when she got ready for bed

The minute she laid down she started to feel her palpitations quickening, and then came the nausea and stomach ache, just what she needed, her anxiety kicking in full force

For a part she felt grateful that this feeling didn’t present itself earlier when she had to be with so many people. But another part hated it cause it meant that she wasn’t going to be able to sleep

She tried rocking herself back and ford trying to calm herself, she tossed and turned but it didn’t work, at some point she sang herself to sleep, and for a minute it kind of worked, but she could still feel herself shake in her bed, she was asleep but awake at the same time if that even makes sense

Before singing herself to sleep she checked the clocked that read 3:47 am, she let out a sigh knowing it was going to be a long night, and she was right, as the next time she saw the clock it said 5:00 am, well at least she got 1 hour of shitty sleeping

She groaned, it was times like this that she really hated herself, she hated the way she was wired, she just wanted to be like the other girls, their current lives seemed so simply, sometimes Anne had to admit that she was jealous

She thought for a second going downstairs and ask someone if she could sleep with them, but then quickly disregarded the idea, because she just felt like she still wouldn’t be able to sleep but not only that, she was also going to feel trapped, it had happened before, and just the thought started to male her feel worse, so she just decided to stay in bed and look at the ceiling in the dark room

It’s been years and she still can’t handle herself in this type of situations, she was disappointed at herself, she sometimes felt like she really made progress, she has hope that maybe she is getting better, but when she goes through her darker periods of time, all that hope fades away, and she feels like she is back to square one, or even further behind

She knew that she was being dramatic, but everything was just too much, her surroundings felt like too much, her brain was too loud

She felt like people would judge her if she actually spoke about her feelings, that feared was created by her parents at a young age, which it was surprising considering they used to be the same way, and you would think that would make them have empathy, but every time she told them about how she felt bad because someone rejected to do a school project, or didn’t feel like hanging out with people, or how she was sad because she sat alone in class, they just told her she was exaggerating the situation and she needed to get over it, and then they wondered why she wouldn’t talk to them

Well the at least the good thing about her parents is that they actually got her help, and for some years it worked, not to perfection, but she manged to get out of a really dark place, but now she needed a new therapist to go to, she was feeling judge by the old one and couldn’t really trust her enough to tell her the problems she was having. The issue with that was that she was still looking for someone new, which meant that she hadn’t been able to talk about her feelings in a really long time, maybe that’s why her life was getting so out of hand

She looked at the clock again, 6:30 am, she was sleepy but her stomach aches wouldn’t stop, there was no way she was going to keep sleeping, which honestly sucked a lot

But she did lay in bed, dreaming with open eyes about a life where everything was better, a life where she was normal, a life where she wouldn’t have to worry about everything single detail in her life

At this point, she could only hope that one day, that dream would come true

“'Cause I'm gonna be free and I'm gonna be fine

(But maybe not tonight)”

#I’m sorry this is dark and sad #It’s late/early and i felt like i needed to write #six #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #anne boleyn #catherine parr